“Ishaq, I’m dead on my feet. Do you think you could give me a ride in your wagon partway to my house?”
Ishaq clapped Richard on the back. “Come, you can ride in the back. I’m sure Jori would not mind. At least he can save you part of your walk. I must stay here and see to the teams and wagons.”
Richard thanked the smiling Victor. “In the morning, my friends, in the full light, we will remove the cover and see beauty one last time. After that…well, who knows.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Victor said with his sly laugh. “I don’t think I will sleep tonight,” he called after Richard.
The months of effort seemed to all come down upon him at once. He climbed into the back of Ishaq’s wagon and bid the man a good night. As Ishaq left, Richard curled up under a tarp to shut out the light and was asleep before Jori returned. He was dead to the world as the wagon rolled away.
Nicci watched as Richard departed with Ishaq. She wanted to do this on her own. She wanted it to be her part. She wanted to contribute something of value.
Only then could she face him.
She knew precisely how the Order would react to the statue. They would view it as a threat. They would not allow other people to see it. The Order would destroy it. It would be gone. No one would ever know about it.
Twining her fingers together, she wondered how to proceed—what should be first. Then it came to her. She had gone to him before. He had helped Richard. He was Richard’s friend. Nicci rushed across the sprawling site of the palace and up the hill.
She was winded by the time she reached the blacksmith’s shop. The grim blacksmith was putting away tools. He had already banked the fire in his forge. The smells, the sights, even the layer of iron dust and soot gave Nicci a joyful flash of her father’s shop. She understood, now, the look that had been in her father’s eyes. She doubted he had fully understood it himself, but she did, now. The blacksmith looked up without smiling as she rushed into his shop.
“Mr. Cascella! I need you.”
His frown grew. “What’s that matter? Why are you crying? Is it Richard? Have they—”
“No. Nothing like that.” She grabbed his meaty hand and tugged at him. It was like tugging on a boulder. “Please. Come with me. It’s important.”
He gestured with his other hand around at his shop. “But I have to clean up for the night.”
She yanked again on his hand. She felt tears stinging her eyes. “Please! This is important!”
He wiped his free hand down his face. “Lead the way, then.”
Nicci felt a little foolish pulling the burly blacksmith along by the hand as she raced down the hill. He asked where they were going, but she didn’t answer. She wanted to get down there before the light was gone.
When they reached the plaza, guards were patrolling up at the top of the steps, keeping everyone off the plaza. Nicci saw Ishaq nearby, loading long planks in a wagon. She called to him, and, seeing the blacksmith with her, he ran over.
“Nicci! What is it? You look a frightful—”
“I have to show you both the statue. Now.”
Victor’s scowl grew. “It will be unveiled tomorrow when Richard—”
“No! You must see it now.”
They both fell silent. Ishaq leaned close as he gestured covertly.
“We can’t go up there. It’s guarded.”
“I can.” Nicci angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her voice regained the quality of grave authority she had wielded so often, that dark intonation that had passed judgment on countless lives, and sent people to their death. “Wait here.”
Both men pulled back at the menace in her eyes.
Nicci straightened her back. She lifted her chin. She was a Sister of the Dark.
She ascended the steps in a measured pace, as if the palace were hers. It was. She was the Slave Queen. These men were hers to command.
She was Death’s Mistress.
The guards approached her warily, sensing that the woman in black was a threat. Before they could speak, she spoke first.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“What are we doing here?” one asked. “We’re guarding the emperor’s palace, that’s what we’re doing—”
“How dare you talk back to me. Do you know who I am?”
“Well… I don’t think I—”
“Death’s Mistress. Perhaps you have heard of me?”
All dozen men straightened. She saw their eyes take in the black dress again, then her long blond hair, her blue eyes. By their reaction to what they saw, it was obvious to Nicci that her reputation preceded her. Before they could say another word, she spoke again.
“And what do you suppose Emperor Jagang’s consort is doing here? Do you suppose I came without my master? Of course not, you idiots!”
“The emperor…” several mumbled together in shock.
“That’s right, the emperor is arriving for the dedication tomorrow. I have come to make my own examination, first, and what do I find? Idiots! Here you stand, with your thumbs in your ears, while you should be standing to greet His Excellency as he arrives into the city mere hours from now.”
The guards’ eyes widened. “But…no one told us. Where is he coming in? We haven’t been informed—”
“And do you suppose a man as important as Jagang wishes his whereabouts to be known for any assassin in the neighborhood to find him? And if there are assassins about, here you fools stand!”
All the men bowed urgently.
“Where?” the sergeant asked. “Where is His Excellency arriving?”
“He’s arriving from the north.”
The man licked his lips. “But, but, which road from the north? There are any number of routes—”
Nicci planted her fists on her hips. “Do you suppose His Excellency is going to announce his route beforehand? And to the likes of you? If only one road was guarded, then any assassin would know where to expect the emperor, now wouldn’t they? All the roads are to be guarded! And here you stand, instead!”
The men bobbed and bowed nervously, wanting to leave to do their duty, but not knowing where to go.
Nicci gritted her teeth and leaned toward the sergeant. “Get your men out to one of the north roads. Now. That is your duty. All the roads are to be guarded. Pick one!”
The men bowed repeatedly as they sidestepped away. After scurrying only a few feet, they broke into a dead run. She watched them collect other guards as they went.
As they vanished out of the plaza, Nicci turned to the two startled men. They climbed the stairs, now unhindered by guards. Some of the people treading the cobblestone paths, come to look at the carvings on the walls, had heard yelling and turned to watch what she was doing. Women on their knees, praying up at the carvings in stone of the Light shining down on depraved people, looked over their shoulders.
As Victor and Ishaq reached the top of the plaza, Nicci untied the line, grabbed the linen in her fists, and ripped the shroud off the statue.
Both men stopped in their tracks.
In a half circle around the plaza, the walls were covered with the story of man’s inadequacy. All around them, man was shown small, depraved, deformed, impotent, terrified, cruel, mindless, wicked, greedy, corrupt, and sinful. He was depicted forever torn between otherworldly forces controlling every aspect of his miserable existence, an existence incomprehensible in its caldron of churning evil, with death his only escape into salvation.
Those who had found virtue in this world, under the protection of the Creator’s Light, looked lifeless, their faces without emotion, without awareness, their bodies as unbending as cadavers. They stared out at the world through a vacant, mindless stupor, while all around them danced rats, through their legs wriggled snakes, and over their heads flew vultures.
In the vortex of this torrent of tortured life, this cataclysm of corruption, this depravity and debauchery, rose up Richard’s statue in bold, glowing opposition.
It was a devastating in
dictment of all around it.
The mass and weight of the ugliness surrounding Richard’s statue seemed to shrink back into insignificance. The evil of the wall carvings seemed now to be crying out at their own dishonesty in the face of incorruptible beauty and truth.
The two figures in the center posed in a state of harmonious balance. The man’s body displayed a proud masculinity. Though the woman was clothed, there was no doubt as to her femininity. They both reflected a love of the human form as sensuous, noble, and pure. The evil all around seemed as if it was recoiling in terror of that noble purity.
More than that, though, Richard’s statue existed without conflict; the figures showed awareness, rationality, and purpose. This was a manifestation of human power, ability, intent. This was life lived for its own sake. This was mankind standing proudly of his own free will.
This was exactly what the single word at the bottom named it:
LIFE
That it existed was proof of the validity of the concept.
This was life as it should be lived—proud, reasoned, and a slave to no other man. This was the rightful exaltation of the individual, the nobility of the human spirit.
Everything on the walls all around offered death as its answer.
This offered life.
Victor and Ishaq were on their knees, weeping.
The blacksmith lifted his arms up toward the statue before him, laughing as tears ran down his face.
“He did it. He has done as he said he would. Flesh in stone. Nobility. Beauty.”
People who had come to see the other carvings, now began gathering to see what stood in the center of the plaza. They stared with wide eyes, many seeing for the first time the concept of man as virtuous in his own right. The statement was so powerful that it alone invalidated everything up on the walls. That it had been carved by man underscored its veracity.
Many of them saw it with the same understanding Nicci had.
The carvers wandered away from their work to come see what stood in the plaza. The masons came down from the scaffolding. The tenders set down their mortar buckets. The carpenters climbed down from their work at setting beams. The tilers laid aside their chisels. The drivers picketed their horses. Men digging and planting the surrounding grounds set down their shovels. They came from all directions toward the statue in the plaza.
People flowed up the steps in ever expanding ranks. They flooded around the statue, gazing in awe. Many fell to their knees weeping, not in misery as they had before, but with joy. Many, like the blacksmith, laughed, as tears of delight ran down their happy faces. A few covered their eyes in fear.
As people took it in, they began to run off to get others. Soon, men were coming down from the shops on the hill to see what stood in the plaza. Men and women who had come to watch the construction now ran off home to get loved ones, to bring them to see what stood at the emperor’s palace.
It was something the like of which most of these people had never in their lives seen.
It was vision to the blind.
It was water to the thirsty.
It was life to the dying.
Chapter 66
Kahlan pulled her map out and took a quick look. It was hard to tell for sure. She glanced up and down the road and noted that the other buildings were not quite as well kept.
“What do you think?” Cara asked in a low voice.
Kahlan slipped the map back inside her mantle. She snugged the fur up over her shoulders a little, making sure it covered the hilt of Richard’s sword she wore strapped behind her shoulder. Her own sword was hidden under her cloak. At least the sun had just gone down.
“I don’t know. We don’t have much light left. I guess there’s only one way to be sure.”
Cara eyed the people who looked their way. For the most part, everyone in the city seemed remarkably incurious. With their horses stabled outside of the city, there would not be any swift escape if they needed to get away. The general indifference of people, though, somewhat eased Kahlan’s concern.
They had decided to simply be as aloof and casual as possible. She had thought they looked pretty simple in their traveling clothes, but in a place as drab as Altur’Rang, the two of them had a hard time being inconspicuous. In retrospect, she wished they would have had the time to find something shabby to wear. Kahlan felt they were about as inconspicuous as a pair of painted whores at a country farm fair.
She climbed the stairs to the place as if she knew where she was going and belonged there. Inside, the hallway was clean. It had the smell of freshly scrubbed wood floors. With Cara close at her heels, Kahlan moved down to the first door on the right. She could see the stairway farther down the hall. If this was the correct building, this would be the proper door.
Looking both ways, Kahlan gently rapped on the door. No answer came. She knocked again, a little louder. She tried the knob, but it was locked. After checking the hall again, she pulled a knife from her belt and worked it under the molding, springing it out until the door popped open. She grabbed Cara’s sleeve and pulled the woman in with her.
Inside, they both struck a pose prepared to fight. There was no one in the room. In the light coming in from two windows, Kahlan saw first that there were two sleeping pallets. What she saw next was Richard’s pack.
Kneeling on the floor in the far corner, she flipped back the flap and saw his things inside—his war wizard’s clothes were in the bottom. Near tears, she clutched the pack to her chest.
It had been over a year since she had seen him. For almost half the time she had known him, he had been gone from her. It seemed she could not endure another moment.
Kahlan heard a sudden noise. Cara seized the wrist of a young man as he charged in brandishing a knife. In one fluid motion she had his arm twisted behind his back.
Kahlan thrust her hand into the air. “Cara! No.”
Cara made a sour face as she lowered her Agiel from the young man’s throat. His eyes were wide with both fear, and indignation.
“Thieves! You’re thieves! That’s not yours! Put it back!”
Kahlan rushed to the youth, motioning for him to keep his voice down.
“Is your name Kamil, or Nabbi?”
The young man blinked in surprise. He licked his lips as he glanced over his shoulder at the woman towering above him.
“I’m Kamil. Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“I’m a friend. Gadi told me—”
“Then you’re no friend!”
Before he could scream for help, Cara clamped a hand over his mouth.
Kahlan shushed him. “Gadi murdered a friend of ours. After we captured him, Gadi told me your name.”
When she saw that he was taken aback by the news, Kahlan signaled for Cara to lower her hand.
“Gadi killed someone?”
“That’s right,” Cara said.
He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. “What did you do to him? To Gadi?”
“We put him to death,” Kahlan said, not revealing the full extent of the deed.
The young man smiled. “Then you really are friends. Gadi is a bad person. He hurt my friend. I hope he suffered.”
“It took him a long time to die,” Cara said.
The young man swallowed when he saw her grin from over his shoulder. Kahlan gestured and Cara released him.
“So, who are you two?” he asked.
“My name is Kahlan, and this is Cara.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“That’s a little complicated, but we’re looking for Richard.”
His suspicion returned. “Yeah?”
Kahlan smiled. He was indeed Richard’s friend. She put her hand to the side of his shoulder as she held his gaze.
“I’m his wife. His real wife.”
Kamil blinked dumbly. “But, but—”
Kahlan’s voice hardened. “Nicci isn’t his wife.”
His eyes brimmed with tears as a grin overcame him. “I knew it. I knew h
e didn’t love her. I could never understand how Richard could have married her.”
Kamil suddenly threw his arms around Kahlan, hugging her with fierce happiness for Richard. Kahlan laughed softly as she smoothed the young man’s hair. Cara seized his collar and pulled him back, but at least did it gently.
“And you?” Kamil asked Cara.
“I am Mord—”
“Cara is Richard’s good friend.”
Kamil unexpectedly hugged Cara, then. Kahlan feared the Mord-Sith might crush his skull, but she endured it politely, even if she was ill at ease. Kahlan thought Cara might even have started to smile.
Kamil turned back to Kahlan. “But what is Richard doing with Nicci, then?”
Kahlan took a deep breath. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Kahlan appraised his dark eyes for a moment. She liked what she saw there. Still, she thought it best to keep it simple.
“Nicci is a sorceress. She used magic to force Richard to go with her.”
“Magic? What magic?” he pressed without pause.
Kahlan took another breath. “She could have used her magic to hurt me, kill me, if Richard didn’t agree to go with her.”
Kamil gazed skyward as he thought it over. He finally nodded. “That makes sense. That’s the kind of man Richard is—he would do anything to save the woman he loved. I knew he didn’t love Nicci.”
“And how did you know that?”
Kamil gestured at the two pallets. “He didn’t sleep with her. I bet he slept with you, when you were together.”
Kahlan could feel her face flushing at his boldness. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his head. “You just look like you belong with him. When you say his name I can see how you care for him.”
Kahlan couldn’t help but smile through her weariness. They had been riding at a breakneck pace for weeks. They had lost a few horses along the way, and had to acquire others. They had gone with little sleep for the last week. She had trouble even thinking straight.
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