Two weeks later, Hazen stood with an arm around Renny as they watched a jeep drive off with Jazzmon. An urn was tied to the roof of the jeep. Without argument, Seth had allowed Jazzmon to use Gyantse's local phone bar and make travel arrangements. She was taking Oryan's remains home to their Kota community in Scandinavia.
The three remaining prophets had parted with promises to stay in touch, but Hazen doubted Jazzmon would want to remember what had happened here.
This whole prophet thing works in partners, thought Hazen. I still have Renny, thank God. But Jazzmon must feel so alone... I'll have to keep tabs on her. She's a fellow nightmare-er, after all. Either of us could turn into Vin.
Renny wiped a tear. "Have you still had no visions?"
"No. Not a single one. You?"
She shook her head and watched the jeep as it grew smaller and smaller down the highway.
They weren't sure what the sudden stop of visions meant. None of them had had a vision since Oryan's death. Renny and Hazen had talked about this while Jazzmon kept to herself, and they were sure their work wasn't finished.
Hazen looked along the temple walls and saw no one nearby. He lowered his voice just the same. "I know you recited the prophecies for Seth to officially record, but did you tell him about your new Interceder dream?"
"No, I haven't said anything to anyone. I never even wrote about it in the book Vin burned, so even Lhamo didn't know. Lhamo probably read what I recorded about your Interceder vision, but... Well, he'll never tell anyone either." She swallowed and looked freshly saddened.
Hazen kissed her forehead. "Come on. Seth wanted to see us once Jazzmon left."
They walked back through the temple gate. A vulture cried above as it flew from the mountains, and Hazen wondered if this was a scavenger who'd picked at Vin's remains. The Kota had given him a sky burial on the side of a mountain, leaving his body to return to nature any way it pleased.
It's a creepy ancient custom, thought Hazen, but practical. And none of us wanted to give Vin a funeral, anyway. Let the birds have him.
He decided not to point out the vulture to Renny.
They walked into the temple and to the library, where Seth had told them to meet. It was a small room, much smaller than Hazen's father's study. But it was cozy, with a few soft chairs to sit in and a desk from which Lhamo had conducted Kota business. Now Seth sat at this desk, looking at mail collected from Gyantse. Books lay open on the table, all in a language Hazen couldn't read.
Seth looked weary as he lifted his head to see them enter. "How are you both?"
"Okay," said Renny.
"Hmm." Seth leaned back in the wooden chair. "Mino and I have talked. We don't feel it's right to keep you here anymore now that your visions have stopped. And we thought we were keeping you safe here, but..."
Hazen scowled. "Are you kicking us out?"
"No. You're welcome to stay if you wish, but you should be free to go home. Be young and in love while you can."
Hazen blushed and glanced at Renny to see her looking anywhere but at him.
Seth grinned and changed the subject by patting a notebook on the desk. "Renny, I'll be eternally grateful for your good memory. We'll translate these prophecies and have the monks make as many copies as they can. The prophecies won't be lost again, I promise you."
YOU ARE READING
The ProphetScience Fiction
Mind your own dystopia. Hazen Stephenson grew up pampered, and he knows it. But he's never had it easy. Hazen's nightmares aren't merely products of his imagination, and he wrestles daily with guilt, responsibility, and questions of fate. Setting...