The Law of Nines. Terry Goodkind
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If there was ever a look that meant business, she was giving it to him.
Still, he just couldn’t bring himself to take seriously such talk of people coming from a different world. He wondered yet again if his lifelong worry was coming to pass: he wondered if he could be going crazy like his mother had. He knew that she believed things that weren’t real.
He pushed the thoughts aside. He wasn’t crazy. Jax was real enough. It actually made more sense for him to believe that she was crazy. Yet, despite how absurd her story was, she simply didn’t strike him as crazy.
Even if he couldn’t believe that this woman was from some other world, something seemed to be going on, and it was serious. Deadly serious, if he was to believe her.
He wanted to ask her exactly how she had traveled from this other world, but he instead checked his tone and started over. “I’m listening.”
She took a sip of tea. “Someone is meddling.”
“With my family?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Most likely because you’re a Rahl. We believe that unless you have children you will be the last in the Rahl bloodline.”
“And you think someone is interested in the Rahls?”
“If I had to guess I’d say that they may have killed your father to prevent him from getting to his twenty-seventh birthday.”
“My father died in a car accident. He wasn’t murdered.”
“Maybe not.” Jax arched an eyebrow. “But if you had been run down the other day don’t you suppose it would have looked like an accident?”
“Are you saying that was intentional? That those men were trying to kill me? Why?”
She leaned back and sighed as she dismissed the suggestion with a flick of her hand. “I’m only saying that if they had been trying to kill you it would have looked like an accident, don’t you think?”
He stabbed a piece of chicken as he recalled the murderous look the bearded man had given him. He looked up at her. She was watching him again.
“Why are these people so interested in the Rahl bloodline?”
“We’re not entirely sure, yet. Like I said, we don’t fully understand their reasons or what is going on.”
She seemed not to be sure about a lot of things. Alex didn’t know if he believed that she was as in the dark as she claimed, but he decided that since she chose not to tell him yet she must have her reasons, so he let it go.
Jax sat back a little as she went on. “When I was but a child, a few people started to get an inkling that something was going on, something nefarious. They dug into things, followed people, spied on them, and eventually, along the way, as one thing led to another, they found out that your mother was in danger. They tried to help her. In the end they weren’t able to do so. They didn’t yet know enough.”
“If twenty-seven is so important, what with the Law of Nines and all,” he asked, “then why didn’t these dangerous people do anything to my grandfather, Ben? He’s a Rahl.” There were just too many holes in her story. He gestured with his fork to make his point. “Or, for that matter, why not come after any of the previous generations?”
“Some of my friends believe that these other people simply weren’t able to get here yet.”
“But you think differently?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “I think that important elements of the prophecy weren’t yet in place. It was too soon. Up until now it had been the wrong time, the wrong Rahl, for the prophecy.”
“I don’t believe in fortune-telling.”
She shrugged. “It could be that you’re right, that it’s nothing more than some kind of baseless lunatic idea they came up with. They would hardly be the first group of people who acted on a completely deluded idea.”
He hadn’t expected her answer. “That’s true enough.”
“Whatever their reasons, some time ago they found a way to come here. These are people who, in my world, kill for the things they believe in.”
Alex again thought about the plumbing truck that had nearly run him down. He thought about the two dead officers, their necks broken. He remembered his mother saying “They break people’s necks.” He didn’t want to ask the question for fear of lending credibility to a subject he didn’t think deserved it, but he couldn’t help himself.
“What is this prophecy?”
She glanced around the empty room, checking that no one was near. The two women had already paid their check and left. The waitress was at a distant wait station, her back to them, folding a stack of black napkins for the dinner setting.
Jax leaned in and lowered her voice. “The gist of the prophecy is that only someone from this world has a chance to save our world.”
He bit back a sarcastic remark and asked instead, “Save it from what?”
“Maybe save it from these people who are coming here to make sure that the prophecy can’t come to pass.”
“Sounds like a dog chasing its own tail,” he said.
She opened her hands in an empathetic gesture. “For all we know, it could be that they don’t believe you’re a part of this prophecy.
Maybe they want something else from you.”
“But you think I’m involved in this in some way.”
She laid her fingers on the sunlit place in the painting beside her before looking up at him. “You may live in this world, be a part of this world, but you have links, no matter how insubstantial, to our world. You proved it by painting a place in my world.”
Or so she said. “It could just be a place that resembles it.”
She remained mute, but the look she gave him was answer enough.
Alex ran his fingers back through his hair. “Your world, my world. Jax, I hope you can understand that when all is said and done I can’t really believe what you’re telling me.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it when I first came here and saw what looked like huge metal things floating in the air, or carriages moving without horses, or any of a dozen other things that to me are impossible. It’s not easy for me to reconcile it all in my own head. This will not be easy for you, either, Alex, but I know of no other way if there is to be a chance to save our world.”
He felt as if he had just seen a sliver of light through the door she had opened a crack. This was a mission of desperation as far as she was concerned. She meant for him to help her save her world.
He wasn’t sure if she had intended for him to see that brief glimpse of her purpose. Rather than try to pry at that door and have her slam it shut in his face, he asked something else, hoping to put her at ease.
“How is your world different from mine? Is it that they don’t have advances like airplanes, cars, and the technology we have?” Were he not sitting with a woman who seemed deadly serious, he doubted that he could have asked such questions with a straight face. “What makes the people there, what makes you, a different kind of human?”
“This is a world without magic,” she said without a trace of humor.
“So…you mean to imply that there is magic in your world? Real magic?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve seen it? Seen real magic.”
She studied his eyes for a moment before a slight but intimidating smile grew at the corners of her mouth.
“Among other abilities, I am a sorceress.”
“A