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Book Three: The Prophet
TherealizationformedasuddenbondwiththeolderwomansothatChanireachedoutandclaspedJessica’shand.Theansweringgripwaspainfulinitsintensity.
“Helives,”Jessicasaid.“Iassureyouhelives.Butthethreadofhislifeissothinitcouldeasilyescapedetection.TherearesomeamongtheleadersalreadymutteringthatthemotherspeaksandnottheReverendMother,thatmysonistrulydeadandIdonotwanttogiveuphiswatertothetribe.”
“Howlonghashebeenthisway?”Chaniasked.ShedisengagedherhandfromJessica’s,movedfartherintotheroom.
“Threeweeks,”Jessicasaid.“Ispentalmostaweektryingtorevivehim.
Thereweremeetings,arguments...investigations.ThenIsentforyou.TheFedaykinobeymyorders,elseImightnothavebeenabletodelaythe....”Shewetherlipswithhertongue,watchingChanicrosstoPaul.
Chanistoodoverhimnow,lookingdownonthesoftbeardofyouththatframedhisface,tracingwithhereyesthehighbrowline,thestrongnose,theshutteredeyes—thefeaturessopeacefulinthisrigidrepose.
“Howdoeshetakenourishment?”Chaniasked.
“Thedemandsofhisflesharesoslighthedoesnotyetneedfood,”Jessicasaid.
“Howmanyknowofwhathashappened?”Chaniasked.
“Onlyhisclosestadvisers,afewoftheleaders,theFedaykinand,ofcourse,whoeveradministeredthepoison.”
“Thereisnocluetothepoisoner?”
“Andit’snotforwantofinvestigating,”Jessicasaid.
“WhatdotheFedaykinsay?”Chaniasked.
