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Somehow, as inconceivable as that was, it still sounded too simple. The book, after all, called the machine Regula, and that meant so much more.
But the book Regula down in the library was merely a translation of the symbols, of the language of Creation, that the machine used to convey its predictions. The book only helped them to understand the omens that the Regula machine issued. It did not explain why it called the machine Regula. “Regula” meant to regulate with sovereign authority. What that had to do with omens Richard couldn’t imagine.
He supposed that in a way, through its prophecies, the machine actually was controlling what was happening. Or someone else was, and making them look like prophecies coming from the machine. It also seemed that the prophecies issued by the machine were not enough. Those same prophecies also came to light through various people in the palace, as if to insure that the messages could not be kept secret.
It could be, he imagined, that the machine was very much regulating— controlling—what was going on through its recent prophecies, so in that way the name Regula fit, although that seemed a stretch.
It seemed to Richard far more likely that the answers to the machine’s true purpose were in the part of the book that was missing, the part hidden away in the Temple of the Winds. What ever was in that part of the book had to be important, or else dangerous, to warrant being hidden away in the Temple of the Winds.
Richard didn’t relish the idea of again setting foot in that place. It would be far from simple and could easily create more problems than it solved.
He tried to push the troubling thoughts aside. He wanted to be up in the Garden of Life with Kahlan, to be in her arms, to have her tell him that everything would be all right … to tell him again that it wasn’t his fault. He knew that it wasn’t, but that still didn’t make him feel any better. It couldn’t undo what had happened.
He had to find out what was going on and put a stop to it.
He knew that the representatives would be in an uproar, not only over the murder of a queen while she was a guest of the palace, but even more so over King Philippe denouncing Richard as the ruler of the D’Haran Empire. It was a declaration driven by raw emotion, but even so, Richard knew that there were a number of people who would side with King Philippe and follow his lead. Richard wasn’t sure what he could do about it, but at the moment, he had bigger worries.
While the king and others found it convenient to blame Richard— and Richard blamed himself for failing to link the prophecy to an unborn prince— that didn’t get to the heart of what was going on. He needed to figure out what had really happened and why. Something, or someone, had been in that room and had killed Queen Catherine.
He was convinced that someone was behind it, that it was deliberate. After all, someone had set about watching the queen. Someone had scratched that symbol in the floor outside her room. Someone was watching and when she had been alone they had struck. At least, that was the way it seemed to him. He had to admit that as incriminating as the symbol was, the murder might not actually be connected to it. He couldn’t let himself become locked into only one possibility.
He was even more puzzled as to how someone could have gotten into the Lord Rahl’s quarters, past all the guards, and then, unseen, scratch that same symbol in the floor outside their bedroom door.
As much as he wanted to be with Kahlan, he needed to think things through. More than that, though, he needed to be alone.
Somehow, it seemed certain to him that the machine, a machine that could issue omens, had to be at the heart of the the darkness that had settled over the palace.
Richard remembered what the sick boy down in the market, the boy who had scratched Richard and Kahlan, had said. He’d said there was darkness in the palace. Darkness seeking darkness.
Richard no longer doubted that there was darkness in the palace. It had descended on them all.
He reached out and placed a hand on the machine.
“What are you?” he whispered, wondering out loud to himself. “Why are you doing this?”
As if in response, a low rumble came from the machine as the gears began turning against one another. It wasn’t like in the past, though. In the past it had always started with a jolt that shook the ground.
This time it began softly, the shafts and gears slowly beginning to move, to gather momentum. In the past it had always been a sudden, thunderous initiation of movement. It had always started at full speed.
This time, it was very different. It was a quiet beginning that was building toward that eventual mechanical mayhem.
Richard leaned over, looking into the slit of a window. He saw the light inside gradually intensify as the slowly turning gears picked up speed with the machine’s awakening. The same symbol projected up onto the ceiling as in the past, though this time instead of igniting at full intensity, it gradually grew in strength.
Before long, though, the inner workings of the machine were in full motion. The ground around it rumbled. The light burning up from deep inside steadily grew brighter. The symbol on the ceiling rotating above his head glowed.
A latch on a rotating wheel popped up beneath the stack of strips on the other side of the machine and pushed a strip partway out from under the stack. Pincers then plucked the blank metal strip from the bottom of the stack.
As the strip was pulled onward through the interior mechanism, the light from below intensified again, narrowing and closing down into a beam that burned lines and symbols into the underside of the strip. As the light inscribed the underneath side of the strip, it caused hot spots to glow through onto the top of the metal.
After passing over the beam of light, the strip moved along the same as he had seen others move through the machine in the past to finally make it all the way across and drop into the slot near the small window.
Richard licked his fingers and plucked the strip from the slot where it rested. He tossed it onto the top of the machine to cool.
He blinked in surprise when he realized that the strip had not been hot at all. He reached out and touched it, testing. It was cool to the touch.
Frowning, he pulled it close. There were symbols burned into the metal as before, but for some reason this time the process hadn’t left it hot. He couldn’t imagine why not.
Richard turned the strip around so he could read it. He bent closer to the light of a proximity sphere and deciphered the unique collection of elements assembled into a single emblem that made a phrase in the language of Creation.
I have had dreams.
Richard stood frozen, staring at it. He thought that he must have read it wrong. He rotated the metal strip around, looking at each element in the circle, as he worked out the translation again to make sure he had it right and then spoke it aloud.
“I have had dreams.”
He took a step back from the machine.
It had always given a warning in the past, an omen, some kind of prophecy. This didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t sound at all like prophecy.
It sounded as if the machine had … said something about itself.
As he stood staring, Regula paused momentarily as shafts disengaged and gears slowed; then the gears interlocked and picked up speed again. The machine drew another strip from the stack on the other side and pulled it through the inner mechanism, in the process passing it over the focused beam of light to engrave a new message on the second strip.
When it dropped into the tray, Richard stood looking at it for a long time before he finally pulled it out. The second strip was as cool to the touch as the first had been. He held it up in the light, looking at the unique organization of symbols that made up the two emblems burned into the metal.
Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, he read it aloud.
“Why have I had dreams?”
The machine seemed to be asking him a question. If it was, he had no idea how to answer it.
Richard remembered then having heard before what was now written in the la
nguage of Creation on both strips. It had been the boy down in the market, Henrik, who had said “I have had dreams.” Richard and Kahlan hadn’t been able to understand why he’d said it. They had thought he was sick and delirious. He had then asked “Why have I had dreams?”
Now the machine had just asked the very same thing.
The boy hadn’t been delirious.
It had been the machine speaking through him.
