"May the light of truth keep you safe and show you the way. Praise the light. At long last, the seekers have come."
***
Nathaniel struggled to make sense of the situation. This envoy of the Temple was the third keeper, guardian of a secret that might destroy that same Temple. But as the day progressed, Nathaniel discovered something more: this humble man was leading an exemplary life, better than he himself had ever aspired to.
When the vicar invited them to share his meal, he assured them it would draw no attention; he often welcomed travelers who passed through town. Hospitality was a virtue of the light. But he warned not to expect much. While the people of Bradford were willing to provide whatever he desired, it would be wrong to exploit his position. And so, despite the imposing rectory, he led a simple life, accepting the largesse of the people only to meet his most basic needs.
He brought out a basket of bread and cheese with a bowl of strawberry jam, but apologized for the meal.
"This isn't Bradford's best season. A month from now, I'd offer you the most wonderful blueberries around."
After they'd eaten their fill, the three swamped the vicar with questions. He listened graciously, promising each their turn, then offered to answer Orah first.
"As a vicar," she said, "you must know the secrets of the Temple. Are you willing to reveal them to us?"
He listened attentively, then nodded.
"I'm at the lowest rank of the Temple. The greatest secrets are for those higher up, so I may know less than you presume. But your question shows you misunderstand our positions. I may be a vicar, but I'm a keeper first. My life's work is to serve the seekers. I'm honored you've found me and will tell all I know."
Orah balanced on the edge of her chair. "How is it that word of us can travel so far and so fast?"
"To answer that," he said, "I must start with things that aren't written in the book of light. What preceded the Temple wasn't darkness, but an age of innovation and genius. Freedom of thought was boundless and nature was harnessed in unimaginable ways. While damning that knowledge, the founders of the Temple kept the more useful inventions to themselves, especially those that could be used to control the populace. Medicines they distribute to the children of light, thinking machines that keep track of information, and the answer to your question-a remarkable system of communication."
Nathaniel tried to wait his turn, but the vicar had disputed the primary precept of the Temple.
"But the book of light tells us, 'Thus ended the darkness and the age of enlightenment began.' We're taught that as the basis for the existence of the Temple."
The vicar winced. "I'm sorry, my son. I know what you were taught, as I have taught it myself. But you're a seeker now and must know the truth. A more honest statement would be: Thus ended the age of enlightenment and the darkness descended."
Thomas's eyes popped wide and Nathaniel let out a whistle-their world turned upside down. But Orah honed in on the details.
"How does it work? What lets them talk over such distances?"
"A difficult question, Orah. Do you know what a temple tree is?"
She nodded.
"Apparently, words are made to fly through the air. Each temple tree receives the words and passes them on to others. All clergy have machines that can catch these words, either as sound, such as the grand vicar's blessing you hear from the sun icon, or on paper, such as the bulletin that warned me of your approach."
Thomas gasped. "Temple magic!"
"It may be magic, Thomas, but not of the Temple. It was stolen from the prior age."
Orah pressed for more. "But what makes the words fly and how are they recaptured? There has to be an explanation."
The vicar shrugged. "There may be, but I don't know it. I'm not even sure the gray friars know."
"The gray friars?"
"Ah, of course. You'd have no reason to encounter them. No temple magic in Little Pond. The gray friars, so-called wizards of temple magic, are a secretive order who serve the clergy. While we study the book of light, they ponder the knowledge of the past. It's they who service the Sun icon and printing devices. But they don't understand how they work."
Orah's eyes widened and she spoke in a whisper. "Can they listen to our words?"
"I don't believe so. To converse requires a device on either end activated by speaker and listener. There may have been ways to listen once, but I doubt they survive." He hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I'm quite sure, because from what I know of the Temple, if such a capability existed, it most certainly would have been used."
Orah's voice returned to normal. "And what else can they do?"
The vicar paused to organize his thoughts. "Have you seen the deacon's star?"
"Yes."
"They're not just decorations. They solve a problem. The deacons are unruly men. The star lets the vicars track their whereabouts, showing their location relative to the nearest temple tree. It's not precise, but it keeps the deacons out of trouble."
Then he waited, trying to remember. Finally, he gave up.
"Beyond that, I don't know. I'm sure more was possible, but so much has been lost."
"But if the old age was so powerful," Nathaniel said, "why does the Temple rule in its place?"
"A good question, Nathaniel. I can only surmise. My theory is that the quest for knowledge brought change so fast it couldn't be assimilated. For every benefit, there was an offsetting harm as our penchant for evil found ways to abuse it. Eventually, the bad outweighed the good. There was a revolt against unfettered thought, and the wonders of that age were destroyed.
"Fortunately, the greatest of that era preserved their treasures in the keep and set up a trail so it might be rediscovered someday. We keepers are small steps on that trail, but we've kept faith across the generations. And at last you've come-the seekers."
Thomas perked up at the mention of the keep. "Do you know what's there?"
"I wish I did. All I know is that the keep embodies the wisdom of the past."
The vicar's eyes took on a far off glow. Nathaniel recognized it as the look of a dreamer.
"How I envy you," he finally said. "Who knows what wonders await? I only pray it's intact."
Orah nearly rose from her seat. "Intact? Why wouldn't it be intact?"
"Nothing goes on forever, Orah. The founders hoped the seekers would arise in a few generations, but it's been so long. The keep may have exceeded its intended life."
"But if the keep was at risk, why wouldn't the keepers have acted sooner?"
"That would have destroyed the keep's purpose-to restore the world to its former greatness. Creating a new world is like making a fine meal-it needs ingredients and fire. The keep holds only the ingredients. The fire must come from us. If the keep were revealed too soon, we'd have insufficient fire. The world would remain unchanged and the chance lost forever. The emergence of the seekers is supposed to be proof the world is ready."
Nathaniel listened and wondered. Had he emerged? Or had the old prisoner chosen him as an act of desperation?
He put his concerns into words. "Why has it taken so long? And how can we be sure we're the true seekers."
"Why so long, Nathaniel? Because the Temple is good at what it does, especially extinguishing the fire in people's hearts. What else do you think teachings are for?"
Thomas stood suddenly and shuffled to the window. The vicar looked perplexed.
"He's had a teaching," Orah whispered.
"Oh my," the vicar said. "I've been insensitive again."
"It's not your fault." Nathaniel rose to fetch Thomas. "Come back, Thomas. We don't have time for-"
The vicar waved him off and went to Thomas instead. When he touched his arm, Thomas shivered.
"Forgive me, Thomas. I misspoke. A teaching can never snuff out your fire but can only drive it deeper."
Thomas turned and faced him. "Then can it blaze again?"
"I don't know, Thomas. That's up to you."
The vicar led him back to his chair and then riveted Nathaniel with his gaze.
"Are you the true seekers? You'll only know when you've found the keep and changed the world."
The day was wearing on. Nathaniel's dreams, once airy like gossamer, now took substance, threatening to crash to the floor of their own weight.
Why him? Why now?
The vicar glanced out the window, noting the angle of the sun. "If you hope to travel today, you should leave soon. But I have one last obligation."
He opened the cabinet on the wall, exposing the sun icon and slid aside the shelf on which it rested. Beneath was a hidden compartment from which he withdrew the now-familiar scroll.
Orah raised an eyebrow. "You hid it beneath the sun icon?"
He gave a half-smile. "My little joke."
Nathaniel rose to accept the scroll, but the vicar strode past him to Thomas.
"Why are you giving it to me?" Thomas said.
"Because you are a seeker."
Thomas hesitated, then accepted the scroll.
The vicar beamed. "Next you go to Riverbend, a place that's farther than all the distance you've come to date. But I can help you get there. Have you ever seen a map?"
"Do you mean a treasure map," Orah said, "like we made when we were little?
"Similar, but on a broader scale."
He fetched a paper from the cabinet and unfolded it on the table.
"This map describes our whole world-another secret the Temple conceals."
"It says Bradford," Thomas called out when he recognized his surname. "Is that where we are?"
"Yes, Thomas. And at the far edge is Little Pond."
Orah traced their journey from Little Pond to Adamsville and Bradford, then released a sigh. "I wish we had this when we started."
"And you must go to... " The vicar slid his finger along the map, not stopping until the word Riverbend.
Orah gestured at an unusually windy road. "What's that?"
"A river. From the breadth of the lines, a very wide one."
"And this?" She pointed further north where there were scribbles to the edge.
The vicar shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe wilderness. Or the end of the world."
Nathaniel's shoulders slumped. So far to go, so much unknown. When he glanced up, orange light was filtering through the window. Time to leave. But one last question gnawed at him.
"I'm grateful for your help, but I need to ask. How do you resolve the lie between vicar and keeper?"
As soon as the words were out, he worried he'd offended his host. But the vicar was unperturbed.
"My son, in every age there's good and evil. The Temple brought much good, overcoming the evil of the prior age, but over time it has become corrupted itself. Someday a new order will replace it, but it's not for me to do this. My role as keeper is to watch and wait. In the meantime, I do what I can for my people. But make no mistake-when the world changes, I'll support the new way. You three may be the impetus for that change."
The day had flown by. The light streaming through the window diminished.
Light was diminishing in Nathaniel as well. When his first test had come, he'd run to the mountains. When Samuel offered the scroll, he thought only of childish dreams. He'd been impatient with Thomas; the vicar had been kind. And the vicar, who'd kept the secret all these years, still managed to minister selflessly to his people. Both he and the vicar were dreamers, but only one was worthy of the keep.
He went to his pack and took out the first two scrolls. Then, as the others watched, he presented them to the vicar of Bradford.
The vicar was bewildered at first, then understood.
"No, Nathaniel. This is your burden, not mine. The people of Bradford need me." Then he smiled. "And if a vicar tried to seek the keep, he wouldn't get very far."
"You're more deserving than I am."
"More deserving?" the vicar's eyes flared. "How would you know? That depends not on how hot your fire is now, but how it burns when the time comes. Until then, no one knows who's deserving."
Thomas went to Nathaniel and handed him the third scroll. Orah came forward as well and pressed his fingers until they curled around the three. It was settled.
"I can gather supplies," the vicar said, "but I hate to send you out so late. I'd be pleased to host you for the night so you can leave refreshed in the morning."
Orah glanced longingly at the roof over their heads and began to answer, but Nathaniel cut her off.
"Thank you. But you've shown us the magnitude of our task. More than our comfort's at stake. We should start now."
The vicar of Bradford, third keeper of a great secret, gazed at Nathaniel.
"My heart wishes you'd stay, but my head tells me otherwise. These messages I received were more urgent than any I've ever seen. I fear for your safety."
As light faded from the rectory, Nathaniel dwelled in his thoughts. The journey had begun as a dream and continued as an adventure. Later he learned to appreciate the risks. But only now did he understand the goal.
The seekers were the bridge to a new world.
The End of the Chain
That night, as soon as the campfire was lit, Orah insisted on viewing the scroll. Thanks to the vicar of Bradford, she knew the name of the next city. The symbol was a drawing of a shoe, suggesting the next keeper would be a cobbler. The pass phrase was more obscure. They were to say: "We have traveled far, but our journey has just begun. The true light drives us on." The keeper's response would be "May you find the end you seek and may the truth you discover hasten a new beginning."
The wording troubled Thomas. "A beginning? If Riverbend's the beginning, my feet'll fall off before we find the keep."
"Oh hush, Thomas. It's just an expression. Let's move on to the rhyme before the words fade."
She prayed the latest verse would help. But the lines on the third scroll proved no more intelligible than the others.
For a full eight days you shall race
Two doors to the mouth of the snake
Once great, it now stands alone