“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”
Verna choked back her sobs as she chanted the devotion. It never even occurred to her to wonder if anyone noticed her.
It had all been so senseless, a young man of no ability for anything worthwhile, with no interest in any values, of no use to anyone, including himself, murdering Warren just to prove his loyalty to the cause of the Imperial Order, which was, in essence, that people like Warren had no right to live his own life but instead should sacrifice themselves for the likes of his murderer.
Richard fought to end such madness. Richard fought with everything he had against those who brought such senseless brutality to the world. Richard had given himself over to ending it so that others would not have to lose those they loved as Verna had lost Warren. Richard truly understood her pain.
Verna sank into the rhythm of the chant, allowing it to wash through her. Richard stood for everything she had fought for her whole life—solidity, meaning, purpose. A devotion to such a man, rather than being blasphemy, seemed altogether right. In a way, because of who Richard was and what he stood for, it was actually a devotion to life itself rather than some otherworldly goal.
Richard had been Warren’s good friend, his first real friend. Richard had brought Warren up out of the vaults and into the sunlight, into the world. Warren loved Richard.
The soft chant had become a calming refuge.
Verna felt a warm shaft of sunlight settling on her as it broke through the clouds. She was bathed in the gentle, golden glow of light. It embraced her with its warmth that seemed to seep down and touch her very soul.
Warren would want her to embrace all the precious beauty of life while she had it.
In the loving touch of glowing light she felt peace for the first time in ages.
“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”
The soft flow of the words of the devotion, as she knelt in the warm shaft of sunlight, filled her with a profound calm, a serene sense of belonging unlike she ever had before. She whispered the words, letting them lift away the shards of pain. As she knelt, her head to the tiles, putting her heart and soul into saying the words, she felt free of any and every worry; she was suffused with the simple joy of life, and with reverence for it. As she chanted along with everyone else, she basked in the tender glow of the sunlight. It felt so warm, so protective. So loving.
It almost felt like Warren’s loving embrace.
As she chanted along with everyone else, over and over, without pause but for breath, time slipped by, incidental, inconspicuous, unimportant within the core of calm she felt.
The bell rang out twice, a low, mellow, comforting affirmation that the devotion had ended, but at the same time would always be there with her.
Verna looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Berdine smiling down at her. Verna looked around and saw that most of the people were already gone. She alone still bowed forward on her hands and knees on the floor before the pool. Berdine was kneeling beside her.
“Verna, are you all right?”
She straightened up on her knees. “Yes…it’s just that it felt so good in the sunlight.”
Berdine’s brow twitched. She glanced over at the drops of rain dancing in the water of the pond.
“Verna, it has been raining the whole time.”
Verna peered around as she stood. “But…I felt it. I saw the glow of the shaft of light all around me.”
Berdine seemed to catch on, then, and put a comforting hand on the small of Verna’s back. “I understand.”
“You do?”
Berdine nodded with a compassionate smile. “Going to devotion in a way gives you a chance to consider your life and along with that it brings comfort in many forms. Maybe one who loves you came to comfort you.”
Verna stared at the soft smile on the Mord-Sith’s face. “Has that ever happened to you?”
Berdine swallowed as she nodded. Her eyes brimming with tears said that it had.
Chapter 31
They followed what seemed like a meandering, wandering, convoluted course through the People’s Palace, not because they were lost or because they were taking their time and picking random routes as they came upon intersections of hallways, but because there was no straight route.
The complex, confusing passage through the labyrinth was necessary because the place had not been built to accommodate ease of travel through the palace, but, rather, it had been constructed in the explicit shape of a power spell that had been drawn on the face of the ground. Verna found it astonishing to consider that this was not only a spell-form similar to spells she herself had drawn, but that she was actually inside the elements that made up the spell. It was an entirely new perspective on conjuring and one on an imposing scale. Since the power spell for the House of Rahl was still active, she knew that the configuration of the foundation would probably have had to have been first drawn in blood…Rahl blood.
As the two of them walked down vast halls, Verna could not get over her astonishment at the utter beauty of the place, to say nothing of its size. She had seen grand places in the past, but the sheer magnitude of the People’s Palace was staggering. It was less a palace and more of a city in the desolate Azrith Plains.
The palace atop the immense plateau was only a part of the vast complex. The interior of the plateau was honeycombed with thousands of rooms and passageways, and there were innumerable stairs taking different routes up through the chambers inside. A great number of people sold goods and services in the lower reaches of the plateau. It was a long and tiring climb up endless flights of stairs to reach the elaborate palace at the top, so many of the visitors who came to trade or make purchases did their business in those lower reaches, never taking the time to make it up all the way to the palace proper at the top. Even more people did business at open-air markets around the base of the plateau.
There was a single winding road, interrupted by a drawbridge, along the outside of the plateau. Even if it weren’t heavily defended it would still be virtually impossible to attack the palace by that road. The interior of the plateau offered many more ways up—there were even ramps used by horsemen—but there were thousands of troops guarding the inside passages, and, if need be, there were colossal doors that could be closed, sealing off the plateau and the palace within.
Black stone statues standing to either side of a wide, white marble hallway watched Verna and Berdine as they made their way down the long hall. Torchlight glimmered off the polished black marble of the towering sentinels, making them almost seem alive. The contrasting color of stone, the black statuary in a white marble hall, added a sense of foreboding to the passage.
Most of the stairwells they ascended were quite large, some with polished marble balustrades more than an arm’s length across. Verna found the variety of stone within the palace amazing. It seemed like each vast room, each passageway, each stairwell had its own unique combination of colors. A few of the more utilitarian or service areas that Berdine took them through were done in bland, beige limestone, while the more important public areas were composed of startlingly vivid colors in contrasting patterns that lent an uplifting sense of life and excitement to the space. Some of the private corridors that served as shortcuts for officials were paneled in highly polished woods illuminated by silver reflector lamps that added warm light.
While some of those private corridors were relatively small, the main passageways stood several stories high. Some of the largest—main branches of the spell-form—were lit from above by windows in the roof that let the light stream in. Rows of soaring columns to each side rose to the roof, far above. Balconies, between those fluted pillars, looked down on the people
passing below. In several places there were walkways that crossed over Verna’s head. In one spot, she saw two levels of walkways, one above the other.
At times they had to go up to some of these higher levels, cross bridges over the passageways and then descend again into a different branch of hallways, only to once more have to go back up in another place. Despite the up and down of the serpentine route, they steadily worked their way higher into the center of the palace.
“Through here,” Berdine said as she reached a pair of mahogany doors.
The doors were twice as tall as Verna. Carved in the face of the thick mahogany were a pair of snakes, one on each door, their tails coiled around branches higher up with their bodies hanging down so that the heads were at eye level. Fangs jutted out from gaping jaws, as if the pair were about to strike. The door handles, not much lower than the snakes’ heads, were bronze mellowed with a patina that spoke of its age. The handles were life-sized grinning skulls.
“Lovely,” Verna muttered.
“They are a warning,” Berdine said. “This is meant to command people to stay out.”
“Couldn’t they just paint ‘keep out’ on the door?”
“Not everyone can read.” Berdine lifted an eyebrow. “Not everyone who can read will admit to it when caught opening the door. This gives them no excuse to cross the threshold innocently and lets them know that they will have no excuse when confronted by guards.”
From the chill that the sight of the doors gave her, Verna could imagine that most anyone would give them a wide berth. Berdine threw her weight into the effort of pulling open the heavy door on the right.
Inside a cozy, carpeted room paneled in the same mahogany as the tall doors, but without any more of the carved snakes, four big soldiers stood guard. They looked more fearsome than the bronze skulls.
The closest soldier casually stepped into their path. “This area is restricted.”
Berdine, wearing a dark frown, skirted the man. “Good. See to it that it stays that way.”
Remembering all too well that her power was next to useless in the palace, Verna stayed close on Berdine’s heels. The soldier, apparently not eager to grab the Mord-Sith, instead blew a whistle that let out a thin, shrill sound, no doubt used because such a sound would carry up the stairs to other guards on patrol. The two farthest soldiers, however, stepped together to block the pathway through the room.
One of the two held up a hand, if politely, commanding them to halt. “I’m sorry, Mistress, but as he said and as you should well know, this is a restricted area.”
Berdine put one hand on a cocked hip. Her Agiel spun into her other fist. She gestured with it as she spoke.
“Since we both serve the same cause, I will not kill you where you stand. Be thankful that I’m not wearing red leather today, or I might take the time to teach you some manners. As you should be well aware, Mord-Sith are personal bodyguards to the Lord Rahl himself and we are not restricted from anywhere we choose to go.”
The man nodded. “I’m well aware of that. But I’ve not seen you around the palace for quite some time—”
“I’ve been with Lord Rahl.”
He cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, since you’ve been gone the commander general has tightened security in this area.”
“Good. As a matter of fact, I am here to see Commander General Trimack about that very subject.”
The man bowed his head. “Very well, Mistress. Top of the stairs. Someone will be able to see to your wishes.”
When the two guards stepped apart, Berdine flashed an insincere smile and swept between them, Verna in tow.
Crossing thick carpets of golds and blues, they came to a stairwell made of a rich, flushed, tawny marble webbed with rust-color veins. Verna had never seen stone quite like it. It was strikingly beautiful, with polished vase-shaped balusters and a wide handrail that was smooth and cool under her fingers.
Changing direction at a broad landing, she spotted at the top of the stairs not just patrolling soldiers, but what appeared to be an entire army waiting for them. These were not going to be men Berdine would be able to so easily get past.
“What do you think all the soldiers are doing here?” Verna asked.
“Up there and then down a hallway,” Berdine answered in a low voice, “is the Garden of Life. We’ve had trouble there in the past.”
That was the very reason Verna wanted to check on things. She could hear orders being passed and the sound of metal jangling as men came running.
They were met at the top of the stairs by dozens of the guards, many with weapons drawn. Verna noticed that there were a lot more of the men wearing black gloves and carrying crossbows. This time, though, the crossbows were cocked and loaded with the red-fletched arrows.
“Who’s in charge, here?” Berdine demanded of all the young faces staring at her.
“I am,” a more mature man called out as he pushed his way through the tight ring of soldiers. He had piercing blue eyes, but it was the pale scars on his cheek and jaw that caught Verna’s attention.
Berdine’s face brightened at seeing the man. “General Trimack!”
Men made way for him as he stepped to the fore. He deliberately took in Verna before turning his attention to Berdine. Verna thought she detected the slightest smile.
“Welcome back, Mistress Berdine. I haven’t seen you for quite a while.”
“Seems like forever. It’s good to be home.” She lifted an introductory hand to Verna. “This is Verna Sauventreen, the Prelate of the Sisters of the Light. She is a personal friend of Lord Rahl and in charge of the gifted with the D’Haran forces.”
The man bowed his head but kept his cautious gaze on her. “Prelate.”
“Verna, this is Commander General Trimack of the First File of the People’s Palace in D’Hara.”
“First File?”
“When he is at his palace, we are the ring of steel around Lord Rahl himself, Prelate. We fall to a man before harm gets a glance at him.” His eyes shifted between the two of them. “Because of the great distance, we can only sense that Lord Rahl is somewhere far off to the west. Would you happen to know where Lord Rahl is, exactly? Any idea when he will be back with us?”
“There are a number of people wanting to know the answer to that question, General Trimack,” Verna said. “I’m afraid that you will have step to the rear of a very long line.”
The man looked genuinely disappointed. “What of the war? Do you have any news?”
Verna nodded. “The Imperial Order has split their forces.”
The soldiers glanced knowingly at one another. Trimack’s face hardened with worry as he waited for her to elaborate.
“The Order left a sizable part of their force on the other side of the mountains, up near Aydindril in the Midlands. We had to leave men and some of the gifted on this side of the mountains to guard the passes so the enemy can’t come over and get into D’Hara. A large contingent of the Order’s best troops are presently heading back down through the Midlands. We believe that their plan is to take their main force down around the far side of the mountains and then eventually swing around and up to attack D’Hara from the south. We are taking our main army south to meet the enemy.”
None of the men said a word. They stood mute, showing no reaction to probably the most fateful news they had ever faced in their young lives. These were indeed men of steel.
The general wiped a hand across his face, as if all their concern was distilled into him alone. “So our army coming south is close to the palace, then.”
“No. They are still some distance to the north. Armies don’t move rapidly unless necessary. Since we don’t have nearly as much distance to cover as the Order, and Jagang moves his troops at a slow pace, we felt it would be better to keep our men healthy and strong, rather than exhaust them on a long race south. Berdine and I rode on ahead because it was urgent that I examine some of the books here…on matters to do with magic. As long as I’m here, I thoug
ht I should check on things in the Garden of Life to make certain that everything is safe.”
The man took a breath as he drummed his fingers on his weapons belt. “I’d like to help you, Prelate, but I have orders from three wizards to keep everyone out of there. They were quite specific: no one, not even the gardening staff, is to be allowed to go in there.”
Verna’s brow tightened. “What three wizards?”
“First Wizard Zorander, then Lord Rahl himself, and lastly wizard Nathan Rahl.”
Nathan. She might have known he would be trying to make himself look important at the palace, no doubt dramatically playing up the part of being a gifted Rahl, an ancestor to Richard. Verna wondered what other trouble the man had been mucking about in while he was at the People’s Palace.
“Commander General, I am a Sister, and Prelate of the Sisters of the Light. I’m fighting on the same side as you.”
“Sister,” he said with an accusatorial, squint-eyed glare that only an army officer could conjure up. “We had a Sister visit us before. Couple years back. Remember, lads?” He glanced around at the grim faces before turning back to Verna. “Wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, about your size, Prelate. She was missing the little finger on her right hand. Maybe you remember her? One of your Sisters, I believe.”
“Odette,” Verna confirmed with a nod. “Lord Rahl told me about the trouble you had with her. She was a fallen Sister, you might say.”
“I don’t really care what side of the Creator’s grace she was on the day she visited us. I only know that she killed almost three hundred men getting into the Garden of Life. Three hundred! She killed nearly a hundred more getting back out. We were helpless against her.” As his face reddened, his scars stood out all the more. “Do you know what it’s like to see men dying and not be able to do a bloody thing about it? Do you know what it’s like not only to be responsible for their lives but to know that your duty is to keep her out of there…and not be able to do anything to stop the threat?”
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