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e。 I live with these books。 When someone touches them； I can tell。 You see this smudge in the dust？ It’s not mine。 It’s the Prelate’s。’
Warren carefully lifted open the cover and； with both hands giving support； turned the yellowed pages。 Richard didn’t recognize any of the words； or some of the letters for that matter。 On one of the pages that Warren flipped； Richard thought he recognized something： a drawing。 It sparked a deep memory。 Warren flipped over more pages； finally stopping。 He leaned over Richard’s shoulder； pointing。
‘This is the prophecy you spoke of。’ Warren moved around to the right side of the table。 This is the original； in the prophet’s own hand。 Few have ever seen it。 Do you understand High D’Haran？’
‘No。 It just looks like scribbling to me。’ Richard glanced over the meaningless writing。 ‘You said there was argument over its meaning。’
Warren’s eyes had an intense gleam。 There is。 You see； this is a very old prophecy； perhaps as old as the palace； maybe older。 This is the original prophecy。 It’s in High D’Haran； as is everything in this room。 Very few people understand High D’Haran。’
Richard nodded。 ‘So people have only read the translations； and there is reason to believe that those translations may not be accurate。’
‘You understand；’ Warren whispered。 His movements became more lively。 ‘Yes； yes； you see the problem。 Most don’t。 Most think one thing in one language must mean a certain thing in another。 In order to plete the translation； they settle on an interpretation that fits their view of the meaning； but in so doing； they create a conspectus that may or may not be the meaning of the prophecy。’
‘But that doesn’t take into account possible different meanings；’ Richard said。 ‘So when they translate it； they give it only one version。 They can’t translate its ambiguity。’
Warren thrust himself forward in excitement。 ‘Yes！ You have it！ That’s what they can’t understand； and so they argue over the various translations； as if there is a right way and a wrong way to do it。 But this is High D’Haran 。。。’
Warren’s words trailed off。 Richard was staring at the page。 The images there were drawing him in。 It was almost as if they were murmuring to him。 He had never seen such words before； but somehow they resonated with something deep within him。
His hand slowly reached out； drawn to one of the words。 His finger came to rest on it。
‘This one；’ Richard whispered； as if from a trance。 The strokes of the letters seemed to lift from the page； as if alive； and coil around his finger； the dark lines caressing； fondling； with intimate familiarity。 Before his eyes； too； floated the image of the Sword of Truth。
Warren’s white face came up from the book。 ‘Drauka；’ he whispered。 That’s the word that is the center of the controversy。 Fuer grissa ost drauka … the bnnger of death。’
Pasha leaned over。 ‘So what’s the controversy？ You mean those words can be translated differently？’
Warren made a vague gesture with his hand。 ‘Well； yes； and no。 That’s the literal translation of the words。 It’s their meaning that is in dispute。’
Richard pulled his hand back。 He banished the image of the sword。 ‘Death。 It has different meanings。’
Warren practically laid on the table as he leaned over。 ‘Yes！ You understand！’
‘Death is plain as pie；’ Pasha said。
Warren straightened and rubbed his hands together。 ‘No； Pasha。 Not in High D’Haran。 The weapon the Sisters carry； the dacra； its name es from this word。 Drauka means death； as in dead； like if I were to say ‘the mriswith Richard killed is dead。’ Drauka。 Dead。 But it has other meanings； too。 Drauka also is a word that represents the souls of the dead。’
Pasha leaned forward with a frown。 ‘Are you saying that drauka； in that sense； can make it mean ‘the bringer of souls’？’
‘No；’ Richard said。 He whispered the second meaning of the word。 ‘Spirits。 The bringer of spirits。’
‘Yes；’ Warren said in a quiet voice。 That is the second interpretation。’
‘How many of these different meanings to drauka are there？’ Pasha asked。
Three； Richard thought。
Three；’ Warren said。
Richard knew the third。 The underworld；’ he whispered as he stared at the word drauka on the page。 The place of the dead。 That’s the third meaning of drauka。’
Pale as a spirit； Warren leaned toward him。 ‘But you Won’t understand D’Haran？’ Richard slowly shook his mead； his eyes fixed on the page。 Warren’s tongue darted out to wet his lips。 ‘Please tell me you don’t have D’Haran blood。’
‘My father was Darken Rahl；’ Richard said softly。 ‘He was the wizard who ruled D’Hara； and before him； my grand…father； Panis。’
‘Dear Creator；’ Warren whispered。
Pasha put a hand to Richard’s arm as she leaned toward them both。 ‘Underworld？ How could it mean underworld？’
‘Because；’ Warren said； ‘the underworld is the world of the dead。’
Her brow knit tighter。 ‘But how could it mean ‘the bringer of the underworld’？ How can you bring the underworld？’
Richard stared blankly ahead。 ‘You tear the veil。’ The silence echoed around the stone room。 Pasha looked from one face to the other。 She finally broke the silence。 ‘But I was taught that for a foreign word in a prophecy that had different shades of meaning； you had only to inter…pret it in context。 It should be a simple matter of seeing how it is used to decipher its meaning。’
Warren lifted an eyebrow。 That’s what the argument is about。 You see； in this prophecy； it speaks of things that could pertain to each of the three possible meanings of the word drauka。 Depending on which meaning was intended； it changes the meaning of the prophecy。 That is why it cannot be interpreted with surety。 It’s like a dog chasing his tail。 The more you try； the more you just end up going round and round。
This is why I’m so anxious to know the intended meaning of the word drauka。 If I could know that； then I might be able to decipher the rest of the prophecy accurately for the first time。 I would be the first in three thousand years to understand it。’
Richard pushed his chair away from the table。 ‘Well； as I said； I’m not very good with riddles。’ He forced himself to smile。 ‘But I promise to think on it。’
Warren brightened。 ‘Would you？ I would be so appreciative if you would be able to help me。’
Richard squeezed Warren’s shoulder。 ‘You have my word。’
Pasha rose。 ‘Well； I guess we better get to Richard’s lesson。 It’s getting late。’
‘Thank you both for ing。 I rarely have visitors。’
Pasha leading； the three of them went toward the door。
As she passed through the doorway； Richard slapped his hand to the metal plate on the wall。
The door grated closed。 Pasha beat her fists to the stone； as the slit had bee too small for her to e back through。 She shouted for them to open the door。 As the stone sealed closed； her words were cut off； leaving Richard and Warren in silence。
Warren stared at the metal plate。 ‘How did you do tha