The Law of Nines

by Terry Goodkind

  Alex didn’t like deceiving these people by playing dumb or by making it look like he was deriding them. He thought they were on his side. They seemed sincerely interested in protecting him, and they seemed devoted to protecting the land where the gateway was located.

  But too much was at risk to worry about hurting their feelings. His life, Jax’s life, and the lives of other people from both worlds were at stake. People had already lost their lives. People close to him had lost their lives. He wanted to know exactly what these people knew before he was willing to let them in on everything he knew.

  “Not exactly,” Mike said. “The book simply says—”

  “What book?” Jax asked as she straightened, her arms coming unfolded.

  One of the other men leaned in toward the two of them. He was the only African-American in the group. He appeared to be in his early fifties and in relatively good shape. He had a shaved head and wore small, thin-rimmed glasses. He had on khaki pants and a red plaid shirt, but he looked like he belonged in a herringbone suit.

  He extended a hand. “I’m Ralph Overton, I’m the one in charge of the book.”

  Alex shook his hand. “Like Jax asked, what book?”

  Ralph adjusted his glasses. “Back at the time the society was formed, a book was compiled containing a variety of information, some of it sketchy. It isn’t an elaborate book like monks of the time would make. It’s more homemade, more crude than that. It’s the only written record we have.

  “It appears to partly be a record of events, and partly an attempt to set down broader information related to those events. The book has always been an underlying element of the Daggett Society. According to the book, it seems that at least some of the people in this world came from another place.”

  When Alex and Jax didn’t say anything this time, he went on.

  “The society was formed to be the keepers of this secret knowledge, to preserve it so that it wouldn’t be forever lost, wouldn’t be entirely forgotten, as the people who put the book together believed would happen to everyone who had resettled here. Yet they had sound reason to believe that secrecy was necessary to protect the safety of the people in that other world, those brothers and sisters who are still there in that home place.”

  “And how is this secret society supposed to protect the safety of these other people?” Alex asked.

  “Well, you see,” Ralph went on, leaning in toward them both, “the book contains a prediction that a time will come when someone from this world will have to save that other world. That is the central founding reason for the book, and the reason the society was formed. The members of the Daggett Society were meant to be the keepers of this knowledge until that time came.”

  “The members of the society,” Mike said, “are the keepers of this knowledge and prediction so that when the time comes they can help that person. Those of us in this room had for years all studied obscure historical clues spread across centuries and different cultures. That passion eventually led us to others like ourselves in the Daggett Society. We are the keepers of this knowledge, believers in the purpose of the book and the founders of the society. We believe that there is this other world somewhere out there.”

  Alex frowned around at the faces watching him. “So this is like a religion, a religious belief ?”

  “No,” Ralph said, shaking his head emphatically. “Not a religious belief. We are not worshippers of this other world. You might say that it is akin to a spiritual belief in this other home world, but it’s not a religion. For us, for all present and past members of this small society, it’s a deeply held interest, a common passion, an absolute conviction, a vital purpose to our lives. It’s based on this book, the clues culled from history, and the things that have been passed down from older members to new members over the centuries.”

  “Sounds like a religion to me,” Alex said.

  Ralph shook his head again, along with everyone else. “The society was formed to keep this knowledge until the day it would be needed. That is our purpose, not adoration or deification. We don’t worship this other world, or its people. It’s simply an acknowledgment of the fact that we have a common ancestry, that we are both, us here in this world and those in that place, individuals who are all part of the greater noble race of mankind. We are one, in that life itself is what matters.”

  Ralph lifted a finger for emphasis as he made his point. “We want to stand ready to make sure that when the time comes, the individuals in that other world do not lose that precious gift of life because we failed to act on knowledge only we have. We would hope that those in that other world would have the same reverence for our lives, and not let innocent people here die needlessly.”

  Alex glanced over at Jax. She also appeared taken by the man’s words. It was how Alex felt about life and how precious it was. He remained silent, though, as Hal Halverson put in a word.

  “Countless people have been born, grown up, become lifelong members of the society, and died without ever seeing any of the things we believe in come to pass.”

  “Over the centuries,” Mike said, “the members made every effort to secure certain things having to do with the book. The most important thing, the thing the Daggett Society searched hundreds of years for, was what they believed would be the place of connection to this other world. In the late seventeen hundreds it was found by an explorer named Léon Deforce, who just happened to be a member of the society. He carried word of his discovery back to the society in Europe.” He gestured to Ralph. “You know the most about that part. Why don’t you tell them about it?”

  Ralph nodded and took up the story. “The members of the Daggett Society, having found the connection they had long believed to exist, emigrated from Europe to the New World. They brought the book with them and settled in New England, mainly in Boston. At first many of them merely lived in the area to protect the wild place they had found, the place that matches the drawing in the book.”

  “Drawing?” Jax asked. “What drawing?”

  “The early members didn’t know where the place mentioned in the book was located, but there is a rough sketch in the book showing what it should look like. Léon Deforce, being a member of the society, had carefully studied the drawing in the book, so when he was on an expedition and saw the place, he knew immediately what it was. That’s how he originally discovered its location—with the help of the drawing.”

  “Over time,” Mike said, “they came to realize that with ever more people settling in New England, more was going to need to be done to protect such a singular place in this world. The society eventually bought up the area they were able to identify as central to everything, the place drawn in the book.

  “They eventually also acquired additional surrounding acreage to encircle and better buffer the crown jewel at its center—the original, larger part that you inherited, Alex. They set up the trust to further protect it. The inheritance was established as a way of fulfilling the Law of Nines and telling when the predictions of the book were coming about.

  “Over the years since, as members passed away and new members came along, they worked to ensure the continuation and protection of the society and the land we hold so precious. They invested their own money to create the trust for the benefit of the land.”

  “You see,” Ralph said with a smile, “the Law of Nines is from this ancient book, tied to it, tied to the land, and tied to you. From the beginning, the members of the society have all studied it. Over the intervening centuries, the conditions it sets out never came to pass. The society remained vigilant, though, waiting for that time to come.”

  “We are the first members of the Daggett Society,” Mike said with great care and emphasis as he gestured around the room at his fellow members, “to actually have the things in the book come about in our lifetimes. We can’t tell you what this means to us, Mr. Rahl.”

  “That’s quite the story,” Alex said into the sudden silence. “How much of it do you all think is true?”

>   A few members of the Daggett Society shared troubled looks.

  “Show them,” Ralph finally said.

  “Show us what?” Alex asked.

  Hal Halverson went into the other room while Ralph went on with his explanation. “We didn’t dare to bring the book. Considering all the things that have happened recently, we deemed it far too dangerous. The book is kept in a safe-deposit box in a bank vault in Boston, along with the thing we brought. Besides the danger of bringing the book here because of the people causing us all trouble, the book, as you can imagine, is extremely fragile. We rarely dare to handle it.”

  “I see,” Alex said.

  “We brought something else, in its place,” Ralph said as he scratched an eyebrow. He readjusted his glasses as he waited. “We are hoping that this will mean something to you, since it’s a little more directly connected with you.”

  Hal Halverson came out of the other room with a narrow box not quite a foot and a half long. It was made of wood that was so dark with the patina of age it was almost black. He set it carefully on the table.

  Ralph stepped in close. “From the beginning, this has always been kept with the book. It actually predates the book, and is part of the reason the book was written, and the society created.”

  He gently opened the cover of the box.

  Inside sat a silver knife that looked to be the twin to the one that Jax carried.

  Ralph reverently, lightly, touched a finger to the silver handle lying in a bed of purple velvet. “From the book, this letter R is said to identify the House of Rahl. The book says that this was brought from that other world, and in that world it was once carried by elite protectors of the Lord Rahl.”

  “Dear spirits,” Jax whispered as she stared at the weapon lying in the box.

  As the roomful of people watched, she drew her own knife, spun it through her fingers, and then set it on the table beside the one just like it resting in velvet.

  Everyone stared in shock at the identical weapons bearing the letter R.

  One of the men in the back fainted.

  50.

  THE MEMBER OF THE DAGGETT SOCIETY stood frozen in shocked silence, staring at the identical knives. Alex, facing all the people, saw the eyes of the man in the back roll up in his head. Alex sprang forward to try to grab the man as he toppled back, but he wasn’t close enough.

  When the man hit the floor they all suddenly came to their senses at the same time and turned to help. Sounds of concern filled the room as everyone offered advice at the same time.

  “Tyler, just stay there,” one of the men said, kneeling down as the supine man started coming around. He gestured into the confusion. “Get a pillow to elevate his feet.” He started taking the supine man’s pulse in a way that looked to Alex like he knew what he was doing. “You’ll be fine, Tyler. Just lie there and let the blood get to your brain.”

  “No, please, I’m all right now,” Tyler said, looking embarrassed as he lifted his head.

  As someone pushed a pillow from the couch under Tyler’s legs, the man over him put a hand on his chest to hold him down.

  “I was just so shocked, that’s all. I’m fine, Doc.” Tyler started sitting up. “I’m all right,” he insisted, if weakly. When he started to stand, some of the other men reached in to steady him.

  “Maybe you’d better lie down,” Alex said as he gripped the man’s upper arm in case he keeled over again.

  “Yes, he should,” the doctor said.

  “I’m all right now,” Tyler said, his voice still sounding weak. “It’s just that when Hal was opening that box to show you the knife that the society has held in safekeeping for over a thousand years, I was thinking of all the generations of members who have lived for this day without ever seeing any of the things they believed in and waited for, and here I stand, seeing a prediction in a book over a thousand years old come to life right before my very eyes. But then when I saw the other knife . . .”

  Everyone started talking at once. Jax took the opportunity to retrieve her weapon and return it to its sheath as she came around the table to see about the man.

  The doctor told Tyler to lie down on the couch and put his feet up. The man, embarrassed by the attention, didn’t want to, even though he still looked wobbly on his feet. People spoke up, telling him that he should follow the doctor’s orders.

  Out of the corner of his eye, on the other side of the knot of people, Alex saw a hand reach out and snatch the knife from its velvet bed in the open box.

  In a blur of movement, the middle-aged man with the knife elbowed a woman back out of his way as he dove for Jax.

  Jax saw him at the last instant and jerked back, but not fast enough. The blade caught her with a glancing blow as she spun away from the surprise attack.

  Hal was close. He crashed through the chairs toward the man and deflected his arm as he again drove the blade in toward Jax. By then, Alex was also flying into the melee. The woman who had been knocked out of the way by the knife-wielding man screamed.

  Other people yelled, “Fred, no!” at the attacker.

  Ignoring the cries for him to stop, Fred slashed wildly. Jax drew a knife as she dodged the attacks. As he lunged for her again, Hal kicked the arm of the knife-wielding man away from her. The blow whirled him around so that his back was to Alex.

  As he raced in, Alex twisted to add momentum and power as he used all his strength to smash his elbow in against the back of the man’s neck. The impact was enough to crush his vertebrae. The man went limp and in a sinuous movement collapsed, sprawling onto his back as frightened people scrambled out of the way.

  The doctor went to a knee beside him, putting fingers to the side of his neck. “He’s still alive, someone call—”

  Using a foot to boost herself, Jax leaped over a toppled chair, knife in hand. She landed beside the downed man and, with both fists around the handle of her knife, drove the blade down through the center of the prostrate man’s face. It slammed in far enough to hit the back of the skull.

  “Now he’s not,” Jax growled.

  Alex saw blood down the front of her white blouse, but other things had suddenly taken priority. He grabbed Jax by the arm, lifting her. She held on to the knife as he hauled her up. The bloody blade abruptly came unstuck and drew back out as she pulled it with her.

  Alex shoved her back toward the wall behind the table. As she was still stumbling back and hitting the wall, he rounded the table and drew his gun. He used the table as a physical barrier to maintain space as he brought the weapon up, pointing it at the people before him.

  “Everyone on the ground!”

  They froze in shock.

  “On your knees! Now! Or I’ll start shooting!”

  People dropped to their knees in a panic.

  “Hands behind your heads! Lock your fingers!”

  “I’m a doctor,” one of the men said. “Jax is hurt. Let me help her.”

  “On your knees or you’re dead! Understand?”

  The man nodded reluctantly.

  “Jax?” Alex asked over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the people lined up on the floor. “How bad is it?”

  “Not bad enough for you to put down your Glock.”

  Alex didn’t find her words all that encouraging, since he knew that she believed he was more important to stopping Cain’s plan than she was. At least she was talking.

  Alex gestured with a tilt of his head. “Hal, take a look, will you please?”

  Hal, to the side on one knee with his hands raised, rushed to do as Alex asked. Alex focused on the task at hand, on watching everyone in case there were accomplices to the man who had attacked Jax. He didn’t know if there was another traitor among the society. For all he knew this whole thing was an elaborate trap. He didn’t want to panic into pulling the trigger, but he had to be ready in case it became necessary.

  As Alex kept the gun leveled on the cluster of people kneeling on the carpet in the middle of the room, he saw Hal rush over to the
wet bar and grab a towel. He heard the towel being ripped.

  “Hal—talk to me.”

  “Dead Fred there caught her arm with the knife. Fortunately it hasn’t been sharpened in a thousand years or it might have done more serious damage. I’m not a doctor, but I’m sure she’s going to need stitches.”

  Alex let out a sigh of relief.

  “What’s the plan, Alex?” Hal asked as he walked Jax over to the wet bar, pressing a towel against her forearm the whole way.

  “The plan is not to have any more surprises.”

  “That was a pretty big one,” Ralph said from his place on the floor. “I’ve known Fred Logan for years and I never thought him capable of anything like that. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “That makes two of us,” Mike Fenton said.

  Alex kept his finger alongside the barrel of the gun as he sighted through the iron sights, fearing to hold his finger against the trigger lest something make him flinch and cause him to accidentally press it. He knew from countless hours of practice that from where they were on the floor no one could beat him to his gun before he could twitch his finger down to the trigger.

  Hal cursed under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye Alex saw him leading a somewhat wobbly Jax around behind.

  “That damn bar sink isn’t big enough to wash a grape,” Hal said. “I need to take her into the bathroom and use the sink in there, or the tub.”

  “How bad is it?” the doctor asked.

  “It didn’t seem to cut any veins. She’s lucky.”

  “Right, lucky,” Jax growled.

  Underlying the sarcasm, Alex could read the anger in her voice. He was relieved that she was angry. That meant it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared at first.

  “I have a kit in my car,” the doctor said.

  “You just do as Alex asked, Doc, and stay right there for the moment,” Hal said.

  “Well, wash around it good but don’t get soap in the laceration, then wrap it tight enough to put compression on the wound to stop the bleeding.”