Excerpt
They made their way slowly down the lane, Paran’s eyes absorbing the totality of their surroundings without holding too long to any particular detail. There were shops and hawkers, but after a while these gave way to a series of gatherings, where people of all sorts stood on boxes, crates, or whatever else they could find. The gatherings gravitated around these men and women, who spoke in grave tones, their faces solemn and eyes aglitter.
Street prophets.
Paran found them intriguing, but what commanded his attention were the looks on the faces of the listeners. Some ignored what was said, some agreed, some laughed. But in all of their faces he could see something similar, like an invisible vein running through each and every one of them. As he was thinking this, he felt a tremor, as though in that moment something had passed through the vein, like a sonic pulse transmitted along a length of string. He didn’t try to understand this, but merely continued on his way.
Fragments of words came to Paran as he and Kolan walked, pieces borrowed from whichever prophet proved nearest at the time.
“And with the deaths of two men will the time of change be proclaimed. Fire will rain from the heavens. The streets we now walk in a tenuous peace will be littered with the dead, and mankind will traverse the skies. Creatures of legend will walk the earth once more…”
“…save those who listen. The voices of those who see what’s at hand will not be ignored forever. We cannot go on living like this. The physical laws of the universe demand a balance…”
“…imbalance of epic proportions…”
“…that we don’t see it does not mean it isn’t there, and if we continue to pretend it is not, it will assert its reality, in a manner which—to it—will seem perfectly natural. To us it will appear violent…”
“…cannot fix what needs fixing here. Only near the breaking point do the laws relax their grip. Only there can the changes we make spread far enough to free us of the doom we have been summoning for time beyond measure. Near that point we must cast a stone into the waters of the universe, for from there the ripples will spread with the speed of thought…”
“…heaven and earth are nearer than you think, people. Have you looked at the moon today? See how large it is…”
“…we are drowning in a confusion of numbers. There’s an order lurking in the shadows if you hold the key, but without it—without the right equation—you can look all you want but you’ll still see nothing but numbers. The answer is buried in the sum—add up the terms and their meaning will be revealed, even if none remain to understand it. You, sir! Tell me, what does the number 328 mean to you?”
Paran stopped dead in his tracks and looked to his left, staring at the man who had spoken. He hadn’t been talking to Paran, but for some reason Paran felt like he had been addressed.
The man addressed by the prophet frowned. “It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. It’s just a stupid number, the same as any other. Unless you’re going to tell me it’s the number of drinks you had before you got up there this morning.” Laughter bubbled in the throats of some of the people around him, and he joined in with a wry chuckle. But the prophet looked unruffled.
“Paran!” Kolan had stopped about thirty feet ahead, finally realizing he was alone. “You coming?”
Paran nodded to Kolan and started forward, but when he glanced back he gave a mild start, for the prophet’s eyes were fixed on him with an unreadable look. Paran hesitated then averted his gaze, suddenly feeling the need to be moving. The crowds were beginning to thin, and in the distance ahead they could see the far end of the Prophets’ Row.
Paran paused once more, at the last of the street prophets, astonished to discover that she was a child, no more than twelve to his reckoning. His astonishment deepened when he heard the sophistication of her words.
“Do not let your eyes deceive you. They have collected the enamel of age and the grit of others’ impressions, others’ opinions, others’ realities—a film that distorts the true image. Youth is not our enemy; we should not treat it as such. Instead, embrace it for the truths it can illuminate. Let it remind you that the world can be seen through a child’s eyes, no matter how old you may become. See the rivers and the skies and the winds as a great mystery, the way you did when you were young, and simply accept them as they are. Let them keep their inner light, and you will see something more wondrous than anything you have ever imagined. You will see our corner of time and space as something beautiful, something spectacular.”
Paran stared at her, captivated.
She glanced at him. “We live in an age of miracles. We have but to realize it.”
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