Zel blinked, staring into a bright light that blurred his vision. As he kept blinking, the light dimmed and he saw the lone bulb staring down at him. He lay on a stiff bed, and turned to see Korrich asleep in a cushioned chair by his side.

Zel sat up slowly, a stinging pain nearly bursting in his side. That felt odd to him. It’d been a while since any injury had been bad enough to last this long. But he ignored the pain and sat up to look around. He was in a small, square room, and the simple furnishings told him that it was in Korrich’s home.

Slowly, he edged off the bed, taking care to avoid making a creak when his feet hit the cold floor. His clothes, lying on a plastic table, were torn, but had been repaired, again. His sword lay at the foot of his bed. These people might not have liked Prophets, but they knew enough about them to realize where their power came from.

Zel quickly changed and strapped on his sword. As he made his way to the door, Korrich stirred. Blinking, the man gave Zel a look of contempt. Rising slowly and without a word, the man crossed to Zel and did something the Prophet had never expected a man of such linguistic skill to do. He punched Zel square in the face.

A fresh cut on his lip, Zel was more stunned than hurt.

“You blasted fool of an outlander! Why would you do something so undeniably idiotic?” Korrich shouted.

“You’re welcome,” Zel said as he licked off the blood.

“They took Silen! The forsaken, brotherless shame took my wife onto that helicopter and flew off to a Grichian prison!” Korrich grabbed Zel by the collar of his freshly laundered shirt and pulled him onto the bed. He would have thrown him, but Zel wasn’t about to let himself be tossed. “I was under the impression that you were to be a protector to my house, so-called Prophet.”

“How long was I out?” Zel ignored the man’s pulsing hands on his shirt.

“Six hours,” Korrich growled, and tilted his head toward the shaded window. It was dark outside.

“You were here the whole time?”

Korrich let go and turned away, slightly embarrassed.

“You were worried about me?” Zel asked.

“Don’t change the subject. You saved my life, giving me a greater debt than can ever be paid. And you probably got me more support than ever before. There’s a lot of turmoil about me using the Sevens Prophets, and I don’t think it’s making me more popular with the Grichians,” Korrich said, sounding a little better. Punching Zel had calmed him down a bit. But his voice was still a little on edge. “Most people realized that you only tried to save me. And all anger has dried up with worry over me and hopes that you may have died.”

“So they think I’m dead?”

“Mostly. I did as well, so I had you rushed off when my aides came to discover that I was in good health. Here.” Korrich tossed Zel something, and Zel caught it. It was a mangled and stained shot. “They found that sitting on top of my stomach. Your arts surely pushed it out, saving my life.”

Zel nodded thanks for the feeble gift as Korrich walked to the window.

“After you were brought here, I couldn’t just leave. It pained me to do so, but I have a responsibility, you see, to the people. I had to bring back order and revive their hope in me. With my survival, they viewed it as the first victory in a long line of reclamations,” Korrich explained. He turned back to Zel, his hands behind his back in thought. “As much as I’d like to deny it, had the attack not happened, we might not have rallied as much of the neutrals as we did. It seems the whole planet is awake to our cause. I even received a call from the Minister of the Bines.” Korrich sighed. “It would be a perfect day, had Silen only made it.”

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Zel, ashamed, fell on his knees with a thud. Korrich tilted his head as Zel grabbed his hand and pulled it toward his head. With his head bowed, Zel said, “I’m sorry Korrich. It was my fault.”

Korrich chuckled. “Your fault that I am alive maybe, my friend. But… I suppose you did all you could for Silen. After all, you are no god. Now get up, your wounds may open and stain the floor. I’m still cleaning the blood from my meeting hall.”

“No, Korrich. I’m healed. But it is my fault. I let the men attack you,” Zel said, his face tilted up with a sorrowful pain in his eyes. “My plan worked. You’ve gained more support because of this. But it cost you too much. And this end does not justify my means.”

“Cease talking as I do Prophet,” Korrich said, contempt renewed in his voice as he pulled his hand away. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, he’s awake,” Joff said as a group of advisors and Cawn council chairs walked cautiously through the door. They kept their distance from Zel, contempt of Prophets still strong in their hearts. Zel could see thanks in their eyes, though, fueling a dilemma.

“Shut your mouths and do not speak,” Korrich said, holding a hand to silence his fellows. “The Prophet has something to say.”

Zel, still on his knees, faced everyone and said, “Last night, when Mandrin was talking about the move of the platform, he was a little too excited. I checked it out, and found a bomb planted under the platform, right where you’d be standing. There were long-shot gunner spots that I found too.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Korrich could have been killed!” Maella asked.

“I know. But I moved the bomb safely away and reduced its power. I also memorized the gunner spots so I could stop them when they fired. I… I didn’t realize they had helicopters.”

“You deliberately endangered my people?” Korrich asked.

“Why?” a councilman asked.

“It sparked a fire in people,” Zel said simply, and paused, letting those in the room understand for themselves.

“In five years, we’ve gathered half of our people to our cause. Even today, there were people who didn’t care about the poor treatment they receive,” Maella said. “But this evening, I’ve been given reports saying that all registered Cawns have sent their support to us, saying that if we are really for peaceful measures, every man and woman on Grichia will come to us, to support Korrich.”

“You knew this would happen. All of it,” Korrich said.

Zel nodded.

There was a pause as the councilors and Korrich thought on the impact of what Zel had done. Korrich pulled the gun with the one remaining shot out of his coat pocket. He thrust it at Zel’s forehead and turned the safety catch off.

“You meddling Prophet!” Korrich screamed. “I should have known you’d do something like this! We are not toys nor game pieces to be played with, do you hear me! I will not tolerate interference!”

“Peace is worth a lot,” Zel said, unafraid of the gun. “But not innocent lives and losing cultural identity. I’m sorry. I thought I was helping you.”

“You thought wrong, you pathetic worm!” Korrich stiffened his grip on the gun.

“Wait!” Maella spoke up, her emotions in battle with each other on her face. “He may be a Prophet, Korrich, and he may have interfered. But he’s helped us in a way no one else could have. I… I think that I’m grateful for it.” She nodded thanks to Zel.

Zel would have nodded back, except there was a gun to his head. A simple tilt of his eyes was all he could do.

“Don’t encourage this filth! You may be convinced, but I say I should have killed him the moment he came into my house. I should have used this shot,” Korrich said, and looked like he wanted to spit on Zel. “But you let my wife fall into Grichian hands. Even though it won’t bring her back, your life will pay for hers.”

“I’ll get her back,” Zel said calmly.

“What?”

“I’ll get her back. I swear I’ll get her out alive. Will that make up for the pain I’ve caused?”

“Through the Grichian prison! The most protected and secure instillation next to the Capital House itself?” Korrich laughed, his hand steady.

“If that’s what I have to do,” Zel said, staring blankly at Korrich.

The advisors stood still in the doorway, waiting for Korrich to respond and their opinion visible. Korrich thought about Zel’s proposal, his hand tightening then loosening, then tightening again. His breath came fast, and he edged closer and closer to pulling the trigger. He suddenly lowered the gun.

“Whether by this shot or at the hands of the Grichian guards, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re dead I’ll be satisfied. Now go,” Korrich said, and pushed his advisors aside, holding the door open for the Prophet.