The Omen Machine

“I’m sorry to hear that— being lonely in your beliefs about prophecy, I mean. So, there is no king for you?”

She shook her head. “No. Duty has been my companion since I ascended to the throne in my late twenties after long years of grooming for the position. That makes it hard to, well, hard to find the time for myself, for the companionship of one who shares beliefs with me.”

“That’s a shame. I think the Creator gave us the capacity for passion for a reason, just as He gave us prophecy for a reason.”

Her brow twitched. “Yes, I’ve heard some talk of what you’ve mentioned to others, talk about your beliefs that prophecy has a connection to the Creator, yet you do not worship the Creator. That seems a curious contradiction.”

Ludwig took a drink to give himself time to gather his thoughts.

“Well, have you ever spoken with the Creator?”

She let out a laugh, putting fingertips to her chest. “Me? No, He has never deemed it worth His time to speak to me.”

“Exactly.”

The laughter evaporated. “Exactly?”

“Yes. The Creator created everything. All the mountains, the seas, the stars in the sky. He creates life itself. He creates all living things.”

She turned more serious and leaned in a little. “Go on.”

“Can you imagine a being that could do such things? I mean, really, can you imagine a being such as the Creator? A being that created everything, and continues to create new life in uncountable numbers every day? Every new blade of grass, every new fish in the sea, every new soul born into the world. How could we, mere men, even imagine such a being? None of us can, really. We have no point of reference for creation out of nothing on such a cosmic scale. That’s why I say the Creator has to be beyond what you or I could ever begin to imagine.”

“I suppose you have a point.”

He tapped his temple for emphasis. “So if our small human minds are incapable of even imagining such a being, then how can we know Him? Or presume to think that He notices us individually? If we cannot possibly know Him, then how could we have the temerity to worship Him? How can we presume to think we know that He would even desire such worship? Why would He? Do you long for the worship of ants?”

“I never looked at it that way, but I see what you mean.”

“That’s why He hasn’t spoken to you— to any of us. The Creator is everything. We are nothing. We are specks of dust that He brings to life, and then when we die our worldly bodies return to specks of dust. Why would He talk to us? Would you stoop to talk to a speck of dust?”

“So you don’t think that the Creator cares about us? We are just specks of nothing to him?”

“We believe, where I come from, that the Creator does care about us, but in a general sense— we are His creation, after all— and so He does speak to us, but not directly.”

She was caught up in the story, and returned the hand to his forearm as she inched closer to him.

“So you think He really does care about us? And so He somehow speaks to us?”

“Yes, through prophecy.”

Dead silence hung in the room.

“Prophecy is the Creator speaking to us?”

“In a way.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. He leaned toward her. “The Creator created all things. He created life itself. Don’t you suppose that He would have an interest in what He has created?”

“Yes, but you said He doesn’t speak to us.”

“Not directly, not individually, but He does speak to us in a sense. He created life, and He also gave some the gift— magic—as a way for mankind to hear him. He knows all things— everything that has happened and everything that will happen. Through the gift of magic that He gave mankind, He gives us prophecy so as to help guide us.”

She went back to drinking her wine as she thought it over. After a moment, her gaze turned to him again.

“Then why would Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor not want us to know the prophecies that the Creator Himself has given us to help guide us? After all, they are both gifted.”

Ludwig arched an eyebrow at her. “Why indeed?”

Her frown grew. “What are you saying?”

He studied her face a moment. She really was an attractive woman. A bit thin, but very appealing, actually.

“Orneta, who would have an interest in us not knowing the words of guidance the Creator has given mankind so as to help us avoid dangers to our lives? Guidance so that we might live?”

She stared off a moment, thinking it over. Realization bloomed on her face. She looked back, her eyes wide.

“The Keeper of the underworld…” she breathed.

CHAPTER 43

Orneta straightened a little, pushing back with a hand braced on her knee as she thought better of the suggestion. “You’re saying that the Keeper of the underworld is, is what … bewitching Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor? That they are possessed?”