Chapter 10

Old Version: 

Jane opened her eyes and screamed. A million mornings pressed in on her, all of her darkest hours happening all at once. All of her fathers from all of the stars invaded her world, chasing her through the forest, all of their eyes glowing a hateful red.

"Jane!" Bear's face appeared. "Jane, you're okay," he said.

"Liar!" she screamed. "Nothing is okay! No one is okay! It's not okay, not okay, never okay…." She sobbed. A knot of despair lodged halfway between her heart and her throat radiated jagged sorrow throughout her body.

She felt Bear's arms wrap around her. "It's okay, Janie," he said. "It's okay." It wasn't okay, but slowly, the pain retreated, and the knot loosened. Jane felt herself relax, but now she was so tired. Weariness settled in her bones, and she sank into Bear's embrace, too tired to even feel. She closed her eyes.

She waited to sink back into sleep, but it didn't come. The sound of wagon wheels on a dry dirt road made it's way into her consciousness. Then the familiar jogging motion. The smell of hemp. She opened her eyes. Sarah, Georgie, and Bear all hovered over her.

In an odd way, fear and exhaustion were more familiar to her than seeing her friends look so serious. The strangeness made Jane smile. Then she sneezed.

The three pulled back.

"Ugh!" Georgie said, waving away Jane's sneeze.

"Jane," Sarah said, disgusted. She wiped at her bare arms. "Warn a person, for crying out loud."

Jane couldn't help but laugh. She let Bear help her sit up. She scooted over to the side of the wagon, and leaned against it. "Sorry," she said, her grin belying her penitent tone. She laughed again, just happy that she was able to. In the fog, it hadn't seemed like she'd ever laugh again.

She let out a deep breath and looked around. They were in a different wagon than the one they'd been travelling in the night before. Farmer Beverly's apples were gone, replaced with piles of rope. The chest of swords were gone, replaced with more rope. What were they supposed to need all of this rope for?

"What happened?" she asked.

"The shadows from the prophecy," Georgie said. "They came out of nowhere and started pelting everyone with needles. I was knocked out almost immediately."

"Me too." Sarah shook her head, her gaze focused on the memory. She shuddered. "When we woke up, we were in the back of the wagon and you were passed out. Georgie and I started pulling needles out of you, while Kate and Bear carried Rufus to the wagon. They're up front," she added, waving halfheartedly toward the front of the wagon. "Bear managed to wake Rufus up, but he was pretty woozy. Kate seemed okay, so she's driving."

"Sarah and I got all the needles out of you," Georgie said. "There were a lot. We only got hit a few times each, but you looked like a porcupine." She pointed to a bunch of needles piled in the corner of the wagon, surrounded by a coil of rope.

"It took you a long time to wake up," Sarah said, clearly trying to keep her expression neutral. "Bear helped you, somehow."

Bear stroked his horn. "Magical healing powers," he said with a weary smile. He'd again taken up his post at the tailgate.

Sarah and Georgie exchanged a glance. Georgie cleared her throat. "Hon, Bear said that he had you covered. Why did you --"

Jane stared at her hands. "I thought I was supposed to fight them," she said.

"The prophecy says flee and fight," Sarah said. "I think in this case you were supposed to flee. Or at least, not run directly into their fire."

Humiliation burned through Jane. "Or," she said slowly, unable to meet anyone's gaze. "Maybe I'm not the savior. Maybe if John Anthony Sawyer had been here, everyone would have been okay. Or," she added. "Nobody else would have been here because the entire village wouldn't have put themselves in jeopardy in order to help me." Tears filled her eyes at the thought. They splashed down on her hands.

She felt the girls' shocked silence, but Bear emoted nothing. After a long, torturous minute, Jane braved a glance up at him, afraid to find agreement in his face. Instead, his eyes were amused. "Don't be so eager to hand your destiny over to someone else," he said, his lips curling up into a smile.

Sarah snorted. "Honestly."

"Welcome to the family," Georgie said. She and Sarah burst into laughter.

Jane smiled, relieved that her friends still believed in her. But she had to admit to some doubt. When she'd pushed Bear off of her, she'd been so sure that she'd be able to fight off the shadow. But she'd been taken out before she could even get to a weapon. Her lovingly crafted hero gear had -- and she felt so guilty that she almost didn't allow herself to have the thought, but it had -- been useless.

If she really was the hero the prophecy foretold, she should have been able to do something, right? She felt Bear's gaze on her. He couldn't actually read her thoughts, but experience told her that he was probably guessing pretty closely.

"So what now?" Jane asked.

"The shadows seemed to abandon the village and start chasing us as soon as they realized we'd escaped in the wagon. Fortunately, they were a mile behind us by that time, and they move slower than we are, so now they're actually a mile-and-a-half behind us."

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't shake the guilt of plaguing half of the town with the nightmares she'd experienced, just because they happened to live where she did, growing up with stories about how she was going to save them. But her relief was short-lived, as she pictured herself and her friends being pelted by needles again as soon as the shadows caught them.

"So, around this next bend, you me, Sarah, Jane, and Rufus will all get out and walk the rest of the way. Kate is going to drive to the next town as though we're all still on the wagon. Once there, she'll set the horses free, abandon the wagon, and blend in with the townsfolk. By the time the shadows realize that you're not there, we'll be in Erinrae."

A jumble of images plagued Jane, including one of the shadows catching up with Kate, and her body being studded with needles and engulfed in fog -- and one in which the shadows immediately knew that Jane's group had detoured, caught up with them, and all of their bodies being studded with needles and engulfed in fog.



And then, of course, the world ending because some old, dead king had overestimated her greatness -- and his. She spared a moment of resentment toward Esomha. He could just predict a false future from the comfort of his throne and then die. There were no consequences for him, if he was wrong. Her friends, her family, the world would suffer. But not him.

Old Version: 

Before one reads the Prophecy of Binyne, one must remember that the prophecy was written a thousand years ago. Certain prejudices color the author's descriptions. Take, for instance, the Kingdom of Muska. In the prophecy, the kingdom is described as "dark" and "terrible" and the ruler "unjust". It's important to keep in mind that the prophecy is written by a king, and even a king as just as Abydos is subject to his own rivalaries. A king may be a hero to his own people and unjust his enemies. No two people look at a third in the same light.

The kingdom of Muska did not come to be until seven hundred years after the prophecy was written. In King Abydon's time, Muska was beginning to flourish as a farming community. Life was easily sustainable due to the abundant crops, fish, and the herds of goats that were natural to the area. Trade was not only unnecessary, but nearly impossible.

The island rises up about five hundred feet from the surrounding water and with nearly sheer rock face in summer, and abundant waterfalls the rest of the year. The people of Muska in King Abydon's time were not known to be friendly. In fact, they could be quite ruthless. In order to avoid inbreeding, when a child was born in Muska, the infant's father would venture out, find the nearest town with a newborn of the opposite sex, steal it, and bring it home. The baby would be given to a neighboring family to raise in the hope that the children would grow up and choose to mate. Muska, therefore, is built by kidnappers and their victims.

King Abydos, of course, very much disapproved of these actions and tried unsuccessfully to stop them. The most epic failure on his part was a raid in which over three thousand of the king's men (and the king himself) were brutally slaughtered. The waterfalls ran with blood for days. The bodies that were tossed into the river floated downstream, causing a horrific, unnatural dam. This forced the citizens of the river towns to clean up and bury the bodies in mass graves in order to avoid disease. Still, the polution of the water lasted about a decade, and as a result, the populations of those river towns fled and were not repopulated until over a century later.

Due to his habit of removing his crown before going into battle, the king's body was never recovered or properly buried and no doubt lies amongst the skeletons of the men that he sentenced to death with his hubris.

King Abydos has the most extensive collection of correctly prophecied events, both large and small, in our human history. However, despite the clarity of his visions, and his reputation for fairness and generosity, he was an ambitious king. Therefore, it is not unusual that the kingdom that defeated him 700 years before it came to become the kingdom it is today, is described in the prophecy in less than flattering terms.

The Prophecy of Binyne

Seven hundred years from today, on the dark island of Muska,

a woman not born but stolen shall rise. She will wreak

vengeance upon her enemies and set out

with sword and tongue to conquer the world.

From four lovers, four powerful families shall rise,

Sara, destroyer of monsters, Jane, ward of light,

Sam, forger of wills,  John, thief of night.

From John seven scions sired, all stronger than man, but each weaker and poorer than the last.

From the weakest begotten another anchored to fate,

will battle her* father from infancy until he dies at the hands of his friends.

His foes, her friends, they shall raise and provide,

A child unremarkable.

Who shall travel with four trusted companions and to be tasked

with three trials and many tribulations The Trial of Destiny shall bring forth a false red moon and a usurper to challenge her role; The Trial of Identity, in the presence

 of the most powerful families of Muska, a broken hero must be mended

From a tiny hamlet in the terrible kingdom of Muska, ruled by

An unjust and violent King, our hero must brave perils and losses

that will challenge both mind and heart, to the kingdom of Binyne,

Longsuffering from greed, lust, and anger, this is where

three true red moons will signal The Trial of Sacrifice will bring a choice

 that will rend or destroy the world, And in either case, the Hero of Binyne no hope to survive.

* The original stone that the prophecy was carved into was damaged almost immediately, and the gender of the hero is a matter of some debate. It is also the only place in the prophecy in which the gender of the Hero is mentioned. However, an overhwelming number of scholars have erred on the side of "her" based on their own observations of the original stone. Our most venerated contemporary interpreter of the ancient language of Tirksnas, Naic Sodyba, has suggested that King Abydos himself damaged the stone as soon as it was carved, in order to protect the identity of the Hero. However, Sodyba has also confirmed what about ninety percent of scholars have claimed, which is that the tablet indicates a "her" rather than a "him".

The gender of the Hero is, of course, unimportant, except in identifying the Hero. Indeed, as of the writing of this book, the Hero of Binyne has been travelling around world for about five years, giving speeches and accepting gifts from her admirers. I have never had the chance to speak to her directly, however, it is widely known that she travels, mainly from orphanage to orphanage, to spread and courage and hope to the downtrodden.

The almost entire first half of the propecy is concerned with establishing the Hero's origins so that throughout the years, her origins could be followed to the Hero herself. When the Hero's father, John Sawyer, the seventh and final scion of the so-called "thief of night", settled down in a hamlet near Muska and married a girl from a local farming family, everyone knew that this child would be the one the world has been waiting for, for a thousand years.

In order to keep the child safe, local mapmakers for the past hundred years have often mixed up the names of the hamlets surrounding the city of Murka, so that would-be kidnappers or murderers wouldn't be able to find her. Because nothing of worldwide importance centers around those towns, and because the road to the city of Murka is well-kept and well marked, there have not been many consequences to this intentional mix-up. The correct hamlet itself is rumored to have an enormous statue of the Hero of Binyne in its town square, which would defeat the purpose of keeping the Hero child safe, except that one has to find the town to begin with and then one has to contend with the Hero's protective neighbors.

As with all of King Abydos' predictions, this one is very specific and easily confirmed. The Hero of Binyne's great-great-great-great-great grandmother, Ohppas, was stolen from a neighboring town and raised on Murka. It should be mentioned that despite the Murkan habit of stealing babies, which could be argued to be a neccesity of survival at the time, Murkans were essentially simple farmers. They, generally, raised their stolen children with kindness and generosity, as though the children were their own.

Unfortunately, Ohppas's adoptive parents were cruel.

They abused her and her siblings, so when Ohppas came of age and figured out that she had been stolen from a more potentially happy home, she wasn't happy. During a yearly harvest festival, Ohppas poisoned the wine in the cup of every person on Murka that was above the age of twenty-five. Neither of Ohppas' parents drank spirits, thinking that spirits were from the devil, so as the adults in the town fell over, gasping from breath at the feast table, Ohppas stood on the table, walked the length of it, and sliced off her parents' heads. However, several children snuck sips of their parents' drinks -- something that didn't occur to Ohppas due to the stinginess of her own. So in the middle of a rousing speech about building a bridge to the land and opening up honest trade that would naturally bring new people into the town, several small children fell over dead, as well. To be fair, Ohppas' speech was not going well, as most of the young people in the town loved their adoptive parents.

Ohppas' lover, Thomas Dale, helped her escape. Nine months later, she snuck into town and left a baby with him. Everyone in town knew that the baby was hers, and half of them shunned it, and the other half embraced it. Thomas Dale, although he had tried to talk Ohppas out of her plan (and thought he'd succeeded) liked a lot of her ideas about expanding the town. Handsome, well-reguarded, and naturally charismatic, he was able to implement them. He built the bridge to land, with enough fortification on either end to make the townsfolk happy. He also became the town's first king.

The adventures of Ohppas and her children could fill several volumes. Indeed, many of their adventures have already been recorded, although generally fictionalized. I intend to tackle these now myths as historical subjects at some point but do not have room in this volume, so I shall attempt to be brief in order to provide a historical context, but please understand that this is the briefest sketch.

Opphas travelled, trying to track down her own origins from the few clues she'd been able to put together. Alas, she was never able to find them, but she did birth three more children, all from different men, and left the men to raise them. The blacksmith raised Sam, the forger of wills (a laywer, it turns out), and the local accountant raised Jane, the ward of light, who, true to her prophecy, opened up several orphanages. Also, true to the prophecy, all of the families rose to prominence.

Ohppas' baby became Sara Dale, the prophecied destroyer of monsters, and a beloved enough figure to almost make up for her mother's horrific actions. Much of her life, she spent at sea, but she did return home long enough to drop off a baby who would be raised by her father, Thomas Dale. Sara never sat on the throne or indeed returned home. It is said that she died in battle on the ocean, her body was never recovered or properly buried. Thomas Dale died a decade later, leaving Sara's son to take over the throne.

Sam Smith sired several children, one of whom returned to his roots as a blacksmith and became world-renowned for his iron work. His work can be seen in many a castle, most notably the Palace of Murka, in the enormous chandelier that graces the front hall, as well as several smaller chandeliers and ironwork found within the castle. All of his scions have continued on as blacksmiths and were/are equally regarded by their contemporaries as masters of their craft.

Jane Ward's children have also done great things in the world, and the name Ward is known far and wide to be synonymous with generosity of spirit. Many family members are publicly elected officials and all are well-favored.

As for the final family mentioned in the prophecy, John Sawyer's scions were all successful adventurers, albeit, as predicted, each less successful than the last. The seventh scion, named after the original, and the Hero of Binyne's father, had modest success in the King of Murka's navy and died young of a heart attack.

It is difficult to condense 300 years of history in just a few paragraphs, however, the focus of this chapter is on the Hero of Binyne, so I must address her origin here before we move on. Raised by her mother and  the people of her village and surrounding farms, our Hero flourished in that idyllic setting. I mentioned earlier that the prophecy is tinged with King Alydos' own prejudices, and there are two more points at which I would balk.

First and foremost, at the description of the Hero of Binyne being unremarkable. Again, as I have mentioned, she is a most striking, eloquent, and generous woman who travels the world offering succor to orphans and hope to everyone. Second, the prophecy mentions an acrimonious relationship between the Hero of Binyne and her father. This is, of course, impossible, as the Hero's father died when she was four, and by all accounts was as devoted to her as any father could be. Thus, I add this warning to anyone reading any prophecy: understand that human fallability makes perfection impossible.

Although we now can look back upon history and match the actions of Ohppas and her scions through the prophecy, much about the Hero of Binyne's actual journey is unknown and will remain so until it happens. Also, although a book about a prophecy my be an unusual place to talk about free will, a prophecy at it's base is a prediction. It is at best, a guess, set in stone. But stone crumbles, as the current state of the tablet the prophecy is carved on can atest. Although the prophecy suggests that the Hero of Binyne will not survive her quest, whether she is successful or not in defeating an evil so great that it could destroy the world, death in prophecies does not always mean a physical death, but more on that in another chapter.

***

A stone settles in my stomach. No one ever mentioned the last part of the prophecy to me, and to see it written out in such stark terms turns my arms to lead and the book falls from my hand and lands with a soft thud on the floor. The Librarian's assurance that me dying in the prophecy doesn't mean I'll die doesn't offer much assurance. Especially since the parts of the prophecy he doesn't agree with are kind of weak. First, that the king of Murka is not a bad guy -- sure, the one I met is nice, but his father wasn't. And neither was his grandfather. In fact, none of the kings has been known to be wise or just since the original, King Thomas. The brat that Sara Dale abandoned ruled his kingdom greedily and cruelly and so did his scions. The Librarian was very careful to not mention any of that.

Also, The Librarian's assertion that the Hero of Binyne is remarkable is based on his impression of Imogene, not me. And his version of my father is far different from the reality. Acrimonious? Yes. The prophecy had it right.

It hasn't occured to me, until now, that I'm going to die. I mean, yes, of course, someday. But not because of this. This puts a dark spin on Imogene's trips around the country, taking a victory lap now that I won't be able to later. It also casts a sinister light on the people I grew up around.

Nobody ever mentioned me dying, not even my own mother. But everyone has been so nice and encouraging my whole life. No one ever said, "Hey, Janie, ignore that whole prophecy thing. Just live your life. Possibly in a town that doesn't have a giant statue of you." They couldn't because it was either me or them. I mean, if everyone died in the apocalypse I would too, so then it would be me AND them. And it's not like I can back out. Dead if I do, possibily dead if I don't. It doesn't really matter, I guess. Life has never been fair, why should it start now?

I can't sleep. I slide out of the hammock and pick up the book. I pull my boots out of the pack and slip them on. I borrow one of the capain's coats from the back of her door.

***

I find her at the wheel. She raises an eyebrow at the jacket but doesn't seem upset.

"I can't sleep," I say. I don't know what I expect her to do about it, but for some reason, I think she'll have the answer.

She nods toward the mast that the Crow's Nest is perched on. A pirate is climbing down. "You can take the midnight shift on the Crow's Nest."

"Thank you," I say.

"Mabel," she calls out to a pirate climbing up the mast. "The Hero of Binyne is going to keep watch."

Mabel shimmies back down the mast and sizes me up. She doesn't seem impressed, but she shrugs and heads off toward the galley.

"Call down if you see anything," the captain says.

I nod. The mast has hand and footholds. I tuck the book into one of the captain's coats and then climb up the mast. It's a lot more difficult than either of the other pirates made it look. The Crow's Nest is a basket at the top of a long pole. The nest itself is secure, but the boat sways with the wind and the waves, making my perch feel more precarious than it looked from below.

The waves are dark in every direction. I'm not sure if being able to see myself swaying over the waves would make it better or worse, but it doesn't take as long as I'd expect to get accustomed to the rhythm of the swaying.

It's cold, and I'm glad that I borrowed one of the captain's coats. My braids whip against my face until I tie them back. There's something about the air up here that goes straight to my lungs without getting blocked up in my throat.

It's too dark to read but that's fine with me. I can't read right now anyway. I can't take in any more information.

I stare up at the moon, letting wisps of thoughts fly up and bounce off of it. Up here, with the moon and the stars the only things I can see, I feel a kinship with them. Hanging up in the air, their fates already decided.

It must be hours later, although it feels like minutes, that the sky starts to lighten, casting reflected light over the water. I can see land, far off, jagged edges of darkness thrusting into the water and the sky.

My muscles have all frozen into one. I stretch each muscles slowly, starting with my toes and working my way up. A spyglass is propped in the corner of the basket. Remembering what I'm up here to do, I pick it up and look ahead. The horizon is clear.

 I turn to look behind us. My heart sinks. It's just a coincidence. It has to be. People sail. The armada at the edges of the sight of the spyglass is just a bunch of boats, right?

"What is it?" Captain Nancy calls up to me.

I pull the glass away from my eye and look down at her. "I think we're being followed," I call back.

The captain pulls out her own spyglass. She looks through it and then straps it back to her belt. "Merceneries," she says grimly. She looks up at me. "It was to be expected,"

I nod calmly, as though I hadn't been dreading this since I woke up on this boat. "Should we, maybe, go faster?" I suggest, not wanting to overstep.

She smiles. "We're going as fast as safely possible. There are some jagged reefs coming up that I know how to get around. Unless they're native, they'll shipwreck themselves some time in the mid- afternoon." She tilts her head. "You should take a break."

I nod and climb down, stiff arms, legs, toes, and fingers all working against me to make it even more difficult to get down than it was to get up.

Mabel wanders up from belowdecks, gives me a sleepy nod, and then passes by.

***

I use the head and then go back into the captain's room. I'm still wearing the king's underwear under the captain's coat. Remembering that there are fresh clothes in my pack, I dig through it. I change into fresh underwear and put some socks on. The clothing I wore to the palace were taken away for cleaning, so the only other things in the pack that I can wear are my new tunic and the chainmail that Sarah made for me.

I'm feeling even less like a hero than usual, so I leave the heroic garments in the bag. I look through the captain's closet and pull our a worn old top and some pants. They fit well enough, and with my boots, I almost feel like a whole person. I stuff the king's underwear into my pack. My hand hits something hard and I pull it out. Right. The knife. My borrowed pants have a knife holster sewn onto one of the legs. I take the knife out of its sheath, and I slip the knife into the holders. It fits perfectly. Fate, I think with a rueful smile.

I comb my braids into some sort of order and then use a few of the longer ones to tie my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck.

I'm presentable, but now that the distraction of dressing myself has passed, I sway to the motion of the boat, trying to figure out what to do next. I'm still exhausted, but I can't sleep. Now, when I blink, I'm confronted with images of Imogene and the farmers bleeding, and the nobles at the party, the servants in their homes, and now new images of pirates being torn apart by merceneries as I watch. Sarah and Kate and Bear -- I shake the images away.

I have to do something. I slip the captain's coat back on. I should ask to borrow her things, but something tells me she won't care. There's also a part of me that doesn't care if she cares. I need clothes. She has clothes.

***

Above deck, sailors -- pirates, I correct myself, are swabbing the deck, adjusting the rigging. Mabel and the captain are shouting back and forth to each other. I find Kate in the galley. Sarah and Bear are at the table, empty bowls in front of them. Sarah waves a half-eaten loaf of bread at me. I take it from and and start nibbling.

Sarah looks to be in good spirits. I guess playing with metal made her feel like she was more in her element. A rough-looking -- a more rough-than-usual-looking pirate sticks his head in, catches Sarah's eye, and jerks his head, indicating his need of her elsewhere. Sarah brightens, and pops up from her seat. "Thanks for breakfast, Kate," she says. She tousles Bear's hair and then kisses me on the cheek. "I'm around if you need me," she says before practically skipping out the door.

Bear smoothes his hair, although Sarah did zero damage to it. "Good morning," he says with a smile. He assesses me and clearly isn't happy with what he sees, but he doesn't say anything.

Kate sets down a bowl of porridge in front of me. It tastes buttery and oaty and I can see raisins and slivered almonds freckling the surface. She drizzles honey on top from a small pitcher, and I suppress a smile. Only Kate could make porridge delicious with limited ingredients on a ship full of pirates. The same skinny, battered cook from yesterday is busy chopping more almonds.

Kate is looking down at me with a concerned smile.

"I'm fine," I say, blushing when I catch her looking. She nods and returns to her pot.

I go back to eating, letting the simple mechanism take over my concentration. A pirate comes in with an empty bowl.

"Could I have some more? Please." he asks. Manners are clearly new to him, as the question is more of a demand, but he ducks his head when Kate smiles at him. She refills his bowl and he leaves.

She looks at my nearly empty bowl. "More?" she asks.

I shake my head and she returns to the stove. Dark circles under her own eyes tell me that she's not holding up well. Probably the only thing keeping her sane is the smell of bread baking in the oven.

Bear catches my eye. "Walk?" he says.

I nod and stand as three more pirates pile into the galley. "Thanks, Kate," I call out, as Bear and I squeeze past the pirates. I'm not sure if she hears me or not.

***

The air is crisp and dew clings to every surface. Bear leads me past the captain. She looks me over, sees that I'm wearing her clothes, and then one corner of her mouth quirks up into a smile. I didn't care what her response would be when I put her clothes on, but my stomach clenches and relaxes as I follow Bear over to the bow. We both lean on the railing.

"Ask me anything," he says.

"What?" I say, startled.

He doesn't look at me. "You're always complaining that I won't answer your questions, and I can feel you slipping into a dark place. You feel like even though you're getting all of this help, you're ultimately in this alone, and I want you to not feel that way. I'm here." He meets my gaze, briefly, before returning his to the horizon. "Ask me anything."

I don't know what to ask, and to be honest, I don't feel much like talking. Maybe I am slipping into a dark place, but it's the only place I feel comfortable right now. Maybe it's better if I slip away and never come back. How did the prophecy describe me? Unremarkable? My pure spirit can stay with my body, and my escorts can take it to the top of the mountain or whatever. I don't need my body or my spirit, I just need my mind to be separate from both.

"Why aren't you mentioned in the prophecy?" I ask.

Bear blinks and looks over at me. "What?" He grins and wraps his arm around me, tucking me into a hug. "You see? I can never guess what you're going to do or say, next."

I lean into him, letting his embrace soothe and cool the hot ache of terror that has me trembling inside and out. I don't know why my question is so surprising, or why it makes him so happy. Apparently he hasn't figured out that I'm unremarkable yet. The thought pleases me. "You're my best friend," I say. "You have taken me everywhere I've ever been outside of Murka, brought me nearly every book I've ever read, taught me anything I know about -- anything. You're a unicorn, for crying out loud. Why aren't you even mentioned in the prophecy?"

Bear shrugs. "I don't know. I've never read it."

I pull away and stare up at him. "You've never read it?!" I demand. I snort. "Oh, okay, it's been around for a thousand years and you have been around for longer than that, so, what? You've only heard it recited? Were you there when it was written?"

"Certainly not," Bear says, wrinkling his nose. "I have never heard the prophecy in its entirety, only the few lines that everyone repeats as though they mean anything. I've never read the prophecy. I certainly wasn't there when it was written. I was no fan of King Abydos."

I'm stunned. By all accounts, King Abydos' soul was carved from gold and honey and rainbows. The Librarian is the only one I've ever known to even mildly question the king's reputation. "Did you ever meet him?" I ask.

"Once," Bear says, wrinkling his nose again. "When he was young. That was enough. I managed to stay away from him but his stink is on everything. I travelled for a long time, trying to get his smell out of my nose. Then, I found the glade where I live now, and not long after that, you were born."

"What do you mean, his stink?"

Bear sighs. "I don't know how to explain it. You ever meet someone that everyone likes, but there's just something off about them?"

I think about his question. There's The Librarian, but that was my own prejudice that made me dislike him. After reading parts of his book, I like him better. And nobody liked The New Commissioner when he took over from his father, except for the teenagers in town who found his having left town ever to be incredibly impressive. I think harder, and find myself sinking into the darkness Bear was talking about.

I don't remember much about my father. I have vague, blurry memories of a man; enormous and loud and roughly affectionate. I remember once, running to wrap my arms around one of his legs, when he came through the door. I was new to running, so I grabbed onto his leg, as much to catch my balance as to hug him. He picked me up and threw me up in the air and caught me and just held me up. I beamed down at him. He basked in my adoration. But there was something different about his play than my mom's. When I would hug my mom, she would hug me back, taking in my love, and then pouring it right back into me. But my father just took, and took, and took until my light dimmed and I grew cold.

I shiver. I always thought of that second half of my memory as fantasy, a combination of my love for him warped with the memory of him trying to kill me.

Bear hugs me tighter and I marvel at the difference between the coolness of his hugs versus the coldness of my father's. My father's hugs were warm on the outside, but made my insides cold. Bear's hugs are the opposite. They cool my feverish body but make me feel full and warm on the inside, like Kate's porridge, but all over.

I remember the thread of our conversation. "Yes," I say. "My father seemed good to everyone else and only my mother and I got to see the worst of him. People still call him a hero."

"Exactly," Bear says. "Being around young Abydos made me feel like I'd just drunk from a frozen waterfall. He made my stomach cold. I did my best to avoid him, but his prophecies were so prolific and his followers so fervent that he was impossible to escape."

I marvel at the parallel of Bear's description of Abydos with own internal description of my father. Most people think of evil in terms of fire, maybe because it's so callously destructive. But Bear, who has been alive for longer than most of civilization, describes it as cold, which is reassuring. Although, as much as I personally don't like him, I understand that it's because of the horrific effect his prophecy has had on my life. It never would have occured to me that he was bad. Every orphanage bears his name, as it is synonymous with caregiving. Then again, it doesn't really matter if he was evil or not. It doesn't mean that his prophecies have been less than perfectly accurate over the past thousand years.

"Do you have any other questions?" he asks.

"Too many," I say, embarassed at the crack in my voice. My eyes fill up with tears and I stare straight ahead, willing them back into my head.

Bear chuckles and squeezes my shoulder. We stand in silence for a while and then he wanders off. The coolness of his body is replaced with an equally cool breeze, but I suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable.

I look up at the crow's nest, wishing to be separate and unreachable, just for a minute. But Mabel and the captain are still calling back and forth to each other about the ships behind us. The mountains have gotten bigger and bigger and now they close in on three sides. Clearly, the only need of me at the moment is for me to be out of the way, but I don't want to go belowdecks. There's an area between the rail and a rope spool, and I sit down, leaning against the spool. I should read more of The Librarian's book, be aware of what is going to happen, but I can't bring myself to read any more. I stare up and up. The mountains are so tall that they block out all but a circle of sky. I concentrate on that spot, and try not to think. A cloud passes over the coin-sized sky, and the world goes dark.