There Comes A Prophet by David Litwack

become mirrors reflecting the fading light.
    "And how do you know this, Nathaniel of Little Pond?"
    He told her of Samuel, kept prisoner for twenty years, and how he was the first in the chain of keepers.
    He had her now. She wanted to believe. But she'd have one last doubt.
    "How do you know the story's true? What if the years in prison made him mad?"
    Without a word, Nathaniel reached into his stocking and pulled out the scroll. He waved it in front of her eyes, which had gone from mirrors to moons.
    "What is it?" she asked with little air escaping.
    "The scroll of the first keeper. The first clue in the chain."
    She reached out a hand to take it, but he yanked it away. "It was given into my protection."
    "You'll be the one who needs protection, Nathaniel, if you don't let me see it."
    He offered the scroll, then pulled it back one last time.
    "Be careful. It's survived a long time."
    Orah was laughing again-a wonder to see. "I'll take care of it as if it were you as a baby."
    He handed her the scroll. She let her fingers glide along it.
    "I've never seen anything like it. It ripples like paper but feels like glass. Is it temple magic?"
    "I don't know. Maybe magic from before the Temple."
    She unrolled it, then brought it closer in the dim light. She turned it over and did the same on the other side.
    "There's nothing on it," she said. "Is this one of your jokes? Are you trying to distract me from never speaking to you again?"
    With a sinking feeling, he realized this last piece of proof was itself unproven. He took a deep breath and prayed the old prisoner had not been deluded.
    "The first keeper told me it appears blank so the wrong people won't discover its contents. It must be held over a fire, he said, that it will not burn, but the heat from the flame will reveal the words."
    Orah stared at the blank scroll, running her fingertips over its surface as if touching the words would make them appear. Then she popped up and began to rush off.
    "Where are you going?" Nathaniel called after her.
    "To make a fire."
    He laughed. "Well you might want to bring some wood with you."
    She stopped, embarrassed, and returned the scroll to Nathaniel. Then the two gathered kindling and hurried back to the clearing.
    ***
    By the time the fire was lit, it was twilight. The next task was to build a frame to hold the scroll. Nathaniel found four straight branches, each as long as his arm. While he whittled off their twigs, he sent Orah to fetch twine from his pack.
    "What happened to your pack?" she said. "It looks like new."
    He glanced up to find her stroking the leather.
    "They cleaned it for my journey."
    "And why would they do that?"
    "The benefit of being a future vicar."
    An edge came into her voice. "But you're never going to be a vicar."
    "They don't know that, do they? Come on, now, I'm ready."
    While he pressed two sticks together, Orah bound them with twine. They did the same with the second pair. Then, as he held them parallel, Orah slipped the scroll in between. He tested the frame to be sure it held fast. Finally, he and Orah squatted by the fire.
    Until this moment, everything was just a story. If the parchment burned or no words appeared, he was lost. He looked at Orah and hesitated. She touched him on the arm and nodded.
    Gripping the ends of the frame, he eased the parchment toward the fire.
    They waited. The parchment did not burn, did not even blacken. But its surface was changing. Nathaniel watched spellbound until Orah noticed the wood beginning to smolder. He withdrew it and laid it on the ground within the glow of the fire.
    At once, they were children again. There was no coming of age, no teachings, no Temple. On the surface of the parchment, words and a picture had appeared.
    Nathaniel whispered as in a place of worship.
    "The city, the symbol, the pass phrase and the rhyme."
    Orah turned to him, her voice softened by the same awe. "What did you say?"
    "The city, the symbol, the pass phrase and the rhyme. That's