The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson Page A

enemy, and he was led, like a pig to the slaughter, into the realm of sorcery. But the righteous right hand of God is mighty.
    (His mercy extends to His people.)
     
    I sit back and consider. The passage rings true in my heart; the Godstone vibrates softly in response. But there is newness here too, and I let it seep into my mind a moment. The realm of sorcery. The gates of the enemy.
    “Why did my Vía-Reforma family hide this from me?”
    Father Nicandro leans forward and smiles. Like all good teachers, he loves the moment of revelation, when the light of knowledge passes to his pupil. “It’s all about this word right here.” He points to the passage that reads, He could not know what awaited at the gates of the enemy . . . “‘Could.’ One tiny word. The natural reading of the text indicates that the champion is ignorant, for whatever reason, of the danger that awaits him.”
    I nod. That is exactly how I interpreted it.
    “But!” He waggles a finger at me. “There is another passage. ‘He who serves must not lose purity of intent.’”
    I’m familiar with those words. They’re from the Common Man’s Guide to Service . A favorite quote of Ximena’s.
    “Two different meanings,” he continues. “‘Could not’ and ‘must not.’ In the original language, however, it’s the same word: ‘Né puder.’ Our forefathers, for whatever reason, translated them differently. The Vía-Reformas believe the first instance is in error. Where it says ‘He could not know what awaited,’ it should read, ‘He must not know what awaited.’”
    “So they believe it means that the bearer should not be told about the danger. It became a mandate rather than an observation.”
    “Precisely.”
    “So I have been kept in ignorance.”
    “Yes.”
    “Because of one word.”
    He shrugs. “There are other similar passages they use to bolster their claim, but this is the main one.”
    “The other bearers, the ones from Joya. Were they kept ignorant?”
    “No. Just you and Hitzedar the bowman.”
    I put my face in my hands, trying to understand it all. Father Nicandro hasn’t answered all my questions, but I’m too tired to remember them right now. I worry what Ximena will do when she finds out I know about Homer’s Afflatus . Maybe it would be best not to tell her. And what if the Vía-Reformas are correct? What if I’m not supposed to know any of this?
    “Father.” I despise the quaver in my voice, but I’m helpless to stop it. “What awaits me at the gates of the enemy?”
    “My dear girl, that I cannot tell you. No one knows. We only know that great danger awaits the bearer.”
    “But I will win through in the end, right? I mean, it says, ‘The righteous right hand of God is mighty.’”
    “Again, I don’t know. I don’t wish to alarm you, but I’m more concerned with what it doesn’t say. It doesn’t say the champion prevails.” He reaches across the table and flips the scroll over. “Look at this.”
    It’s a list of names with corresponding dates. One name every hundred years, with a few astonishing gaps in between. Toward the bottom, I see my own name. Lucero-Elisa de Riqueza . It’s been newly added, for the ink is darker and the letters do not bleed into the page. I stare at them in wonder. Homer leads the list. Hitzedar the bowman is only a few slots above me.
    The bearers before me. Real names, real people.
    “There are gaps.” I give Nicandro a questioning look.
    “Yes. Our record is incomplete. Either we’ve lost the history, or some of the bearers were never recognized.”
    A startling thought. “How can that be?”
    He shrugs. “Maybe they lived far from a monastery, raised in superstition, ignorant of their destiny. Maybe they died—or were killed—before they could complete their service. Who really knows?”
    “So it is possible.” My greatest fear realized. Destiny is too fluid a thing to ensure with a mere stone. “It’s possible to die before completing the