Free Stone of Tears by Terry Goodkind Page B

No one was.
    Either way, he was probably the most dangerous man alive.
    “Where is the Prelate?” he asked in a deep, menacing voice.
    She picked up the pen. “It is the middle of the night, Nathan. We are not going to wake the Prelate simply because you throw a fit, demanding she come. Any Sister can write down a prophecy. Why don’t you sit down and we can begin.”
    He came to the desk, opposite her, towering over her. “Don’t test me, Sister Margaret. This is important.”
    She glowered up at him. “And don’t you test me, Nathan. Need I remind you that you will lose? Now, you have gotten me out of my bed in the middle of the night, let’s get this over so I may return to it and try to salvage a part of a night’s sleep.”
    “I asked for the Prelate. This is important.”
    “Nathan, we have yet to decipher prophecies you gave us years ago. It could not possibly make any difference if you give this one to me and she reads it in the morning, or next week, or next year for that matter.”
    “I have no prophecy to give.”
    Her anger rose. “You have called me from my bed for company?”
    A broad smile spread on his lips. “Would you object? It’s a beautiful night. You are a handsome enough woman, if a little tightly wound.” He cocked his head to the side. “No? Well, since you have come, and must have a prophecy, would you like me to tell you of your death?”
    “The Creator will take me when He chooses. I will leave it to Him.”
    He nodded, staring off over her head. “Sister Margaret, would you have a woman sent to visit me? I find I am lonely of late.”
    “It is not the task of the Sisters to procure harlots for you.”
    “But they have seen to a courtesan for me in the past, when I have given prophecies.”
    With deliberate care, she set the pen on the desk. “And the last one left before we could talk to her. She ran back half naked and half mad. How she got through the guards, we still don’t know.
    “You promised not to speak prophecies to her. You promised, Nathan. Before we could find her she had repeated what you had told her. It spread like a wild fire. It started a civil war. Nearly six thousand people died because of what you told that young woman.”
    His worried, white eyebrows went up. “Really? I never knew.”
    She took a deep breath and spoke in a soft voice to control her anger. “Nathan, I myself have told you this three times now.”
    He looked down with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Margaret.”
    “ Sister Margaret.”
    “Sister? You? You are far to young and attractive to be a Sister. Surely you are but a novice.”
    She stood. “Good night, Nathan.” She closed the cover on the book and started to pick it up.
    “Sit down, Sister Margaret,” came his voice, again full of power and menace.
    “You have nothing to tell me. I am returning to my bed.”
    “I did not say I had nothing to tell you. I said I had no prophecy to give.”
    “If you have had no vision and have no prophecy, what could you possibly have to tell me?”
    He withdrew his hands from his sleeves and placed his knuckles on the desk, leaning close to her face. “Sit down, or I won’t tell you.”
    Margaret contemplated using her power, but decided that it was easier, and quicker, to simply make him happy and sit down. “All right, I’m sitting. What is it.”
    He leaned over even more, his eyes going wide. “There has been a fork in the prophecies,” he whispered.
    She felt herself rising out of the chair. “When?”
    “Just today. This very day.”
    “Then why have you called me in the middle of the night?”
    “I called out as soon as it came to me.”
    “And why have you not waited until the morning to tell us this. There have been forks before.”
    He slowly shook his head as he smiled. “Not like this one.”
    She didn’t relish telling the others. No one was going to be happy about this. No one but Warren, that is. He would be in a state of glee to have a piece to fit into the puzzle