The Prophecy

Zephir (4)

But over the course of the days I spent in Gliralinn, the so-called "hospice for the dying", I realized how wrong I was. Morthor II appeared to me in all its splendor then. For, indeed, he was not born to govern, but to heal, to listen and to calm. To heal all sicknesses, all wounds. There was in his brown eyes, in all his gestures a calm, a serenity that commanded respect.

So, I stayed in Gliralinn, without moving from my litter box, for a good two weeks. Contrary to what I had feared, I didn't have time to get bored: there was always something going on. Not always very cheerful, by the way. And some days the Ladies of the Palace came to visit the sick, to give their support and sometimes their help. I found myself waiting impatiently for them to come. Like most of the residents, I had been conquered by their beauty, their elegance and the simple and touching way they would look away when the vision they were offered was too unbearable. And then there were their jewels, whose brilliance shone up to my eyes, and which were true enchantments of the senses. Finally, they brought that air, that breath of fresh air that I missed so much. One evening, it was yesterday in fact, after their departure, Morthor II had allowed me to walk slowly and silently through the corridors. He knew that I was almost healed; that, despite the prolonged absence of the healers, my strength had returned to me and I had already planned to leave them.

_ You're going to leave, aren't you? he had told me.

_ Yes. I replied, as there was no need for lies.

_ You can't, you haven't said goodbye to them.

_They'll understand. I'll miss them too, but I can't stay here, I don't belong here...

His silence proved how right I was, and he knew it.

_ I will miss you too, Morthor the Second!

I walked for a long time that night, along the corridors, the doors, the paths open to the winds. My thoughts were wandering to the rhythm of the winds blowing at my temples. I suddenly came out of my mind when I found myself in a low room, tiny in comparison to the dormitory, planted with pillars with incredible arches. At its end, the only architectural madness: a wooden portal carved to look like a lace. It was the entrance to Gliralinn, the noble, proud entrance. It was probably through this entrance that our Belles of the Tower arrived. I imagined them, amazed, passing through the portal and discovering, some for the first time, these bare stones shaped and assembled with art and balance. I could have dreamed of this scene for a long time, with many variations, but I suddenly caught a wave that struck my ear. Somewhere, behind a pillar, there was whispers. I decided to stand as still as possible. And yes, I wanted to spy! And with what feverishness! I tried not to pay attention to the nervous shivers that ran through me to concentrate fully on the sound, that slight clicking of the tongue? There were two of them. A man and a woman. From the texture of his voice, the man, a Gelfling, must have been big and strong. Strong shoulders, a muscular back, safe legs, neither young nor old. His voice was deep and warm. He spoke calmly, without excessive ardor. The woman, also a Gelfling, seemed younger to me, three hundred years at the most. Her voice was fresh, high-pitched and light. You could guess her slender, charming silhouette. A great nobility emanated from her. After these details that charmed me, their speech froze me.

_ The City appeared as the Curse had predicted today: Karstol 9 Lïon(1) of this year 1307, My Lady. Two of my best knights brought the news back to me, just about a ray of sun(2).

_ Good, Adamas, good. We are on time. By Norii(3), the Demi people will therefore reappear. Finally, we have been waiting for so long. We have three months left to be ready to welcome them.