“Who?” Walsh asked.
“Janet and Amelia.”
Walsh let out a knowing grunt as Clarissa glanced to the door. “But Nathan said—”
“Look, if they give their oath to . . . to Lord Rahl, also, they can escape.”
Verna touched the ring in Clarissa’s lip. “You don’t know what they do to the women here. Did you see Amelia’s face?”
“I know what they do,” Clarissa whispered, remembering the scenes in Renwold. “Will they take the oath?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t you, if it would get you away from here?”
Clarissa swallowed. “I’d do anything.”
“Hurry, then,” Walsh said. “There’s room in the coach, but we have to hurry.”
Verna nodded and then slipped out the door.
While Verna went to get the other two, Clarissa unhooked the clasp on the fine gold chain around her neck. Warren watched with a frown as Clarissa pulled a book from a lower shelf and then set it on the table.
Clarissa placed the locket on the shelf, in the empty slot. Carefully, she laid open the locket. With a finger, she gently pushed it all the way back against the wall. She wiggled her fingers at Warren. He handed back the book she had removed. Clarissa slid it back into its place.
“What did you do?” Warren asked.
“What Nathan wanted me to do.”
Verna burst back into the room, holding the hands of two beaming women. One was the one with the battered face, Sister Amelia.
“They’ve given the oath,” Verna said in a breathless voice. “They are bonded to Lord Rahl. Let’s get out of here.”
“About time,” Walsh said. He had a little smile on his face for Verna. It was obvious to Clarissa that they knew each other.
Walsh took a hold of Clarissa’s arm and the two of them led out the rest, to retrace their route back through the fortress. The dark, dripping stone smelled of rot. They saw only a few guards inside the stronghold, most people having left along with Jagang, gone to his huge tents.
Nathan said that Jagang traveled with a large contingent of people and that he had big, round tents with all the comforts of a palace. Of the people left behind, there seemed to be a scattering of officers and guards, and a few of the women who were slaves to Jagang and his army.
As they came around a corner, one of those slaves was coming the other way, carrying two steaming kettles of what smelled like lamb stew. She was dressed the same as the other women Clarissa had seen, except Verna. The clothes they wore, like Janet and Amelia, were not clothes as far as Clarissa was concerned. The women might as well have been naked, for all the good those transparent garments did.
When the woman looked up and saw them coming, especially Walsh, she immediately stepped to the side of the hall, out of their way.
Clarissa jerked to a halt, staring at the woman, whose gaze fixed on the floor. “Manda?” Clarissa whispered. “Manda Perlin, is that you?”
Manda looked up. “Yes, mistress?”
“Manda, it’s me, Clarissa. From Renwold. I’m Clarissa.”
The young woman looked up the length of Clarissa, at her expensive gown, at her jewelry, at her hair all done in ringlets. Manda’s gaze met Clarissa’s, and her eyes widened. “Clarissa, is it really you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t hardly . . . recognize you. You look so . . . different. You look so . . .” The spark went out of her expression. “Were you captured back home, too, then? I see the ring.”
“No. I wasn’t captured.”
Manda’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, good. I’m so glad they didn’t get you, there. It was—”
Clarissa hugged the young woman. Manda had never spoken this many words to her in all the years Clarissa had known her, and the words she had spoken hadn’t been decent. Clarissa had always hated Manda for the cruel words, the cruel smirks, the condescending glances. Now, Clarissa felt sorrow for her.
“Manda, we have to go. Would you like to come away with us?”
Verna snatched Clarissa’s arm. “We can’t do that.”
Clarissa glared at Verna. “I came here to rescue you. I let you take your friends with us. I want to take my friend out of here, too.”
Verna sighed and let go of Clarissa’s arm. “Of course.”
“Friend?” Manda whined as her face twisted with untold sorrow.
“Yes,” Clarissa said. “I could get you out of here, too.”
“You would do that for me? After all the times I . . .” Sobbing, Manda threw her arms around Clarissa. “Oh, yes. Oh, Clarissa, please! Oh, Clarissa, please let me go with you!”
Clarissa gripped the woman’s wrists and pushed her away. “Then listen carefully. I give you only one chance. My master has magic to protect your mind from the dream walker. You must swear an oath to him. You must be loyal to him.”
Manda fell to her knees, clutching at Clarissa’s dress. “Yes, I swear.”
“Then say these words, and you must mean them with all your heart.”
Clarissa spoke the devotion, pausing to let Manda repeat the words. When she finished, Verna and Clarissa helped the sobbing woman to her feet.
Clarissa had always been so intimidated by Manda, always so afraid of her scorn. How many times had Clarissa crossed the street, her head bowed low, as she tried to avoid Manda’s attention?
“Hurry, now,” Walsh said. “Nathan told us to get out of here fast.”
At the entrance, Walsh had to make up a story about His Excellency’s plenipotentiary wanting some women. The guard eyed the nearly naked women, smiled knowingly, and slapped Walsh on the back.
They all piled into the coach as Walsh climbed up into the driver’s seat with Bollesdun. As the coach lurched and then started out, Clarissa pushed Janet and Manda to the floor, in the center, so she could lift the leather-covered seat. She pulled out a long cloak. She only had one extra; they had expected to rescue Verna and Warren. Since Verna had a cloak, Clarissa gave the extra cloak to Manda, and retrieved blankets for Janet and Amelia. All three women were immensely grateful to be able to cover themselves, at last.
Clarissa sat at the end of the seat, holding the strange black book Nathan had sent her for, with Amelia at the other end, and Manda in the center, clutching at Clarissa for comfort.
Manda kept weeping on Clarissa’s shoulder, and thanking her profusely. Clarissa put an arm around Manda and told her that she had expressed her gratitude enough times. It did feel good, though, to have the beautiful Manda Perlin looking up to Clarissa for a change, rather than looking down on her. All because of Nathan. How he had changed her life—changed everything.
They had to stop three times, while soldiers checked the coach. Once, the soldiers made them all get out and line up for a look. The blankets and cloak had to remain in the coach as Janet, Amelia, and Manda climbed out for inspection.
Walsh explained, in very crude terms, what he was doing with these slaves—how he was taking them for the pleasure of His Excellency’s plenipotentiary. The soldiers were satisfied by Walsh’s explanation, and allowed them to continue on their way.
They turned north at the harbor, and headed up the coast road. Clarissa sighed in relief as she saw the last of the fires and tents finally fade into the distance behind them. It wasn’t until they crested a hill, nearly an hour’s ride out after leaving the last of the soldiers, that the flash lit the sky behind.
Clarissa heard a cheer from up on the driver’s seat. Walsh leaned down, gripping a rail with one arm, and stuck his face, nearly upside down, partly into the window.
“Good job, Clarissa! You did it!”
Clarissa grinned. He swung back up, and he and Bollesdun booted into the night air. It was then that the sudden boom reached them, making Manda jump with fright.
Verna, sitting in the center, opposite, produced a flame above her upturned palm and leaned toward Clarissa. “Job? What is it that you have done?”
Clarissa patted the inky black book in her lap. “Natha
n sent me for this book, and he wanted the ones left behind destroyed. He said that they were dangerous, what with you, and especially Warren, telling Jagang the meaning of the prophecies in them. Nathan didn’t want Jagang to be able to use the information.”
“I see,” Verna said. “Lucky for us that we agreed to swear loyalty to . . . Lord Rahl, and go with you.”
Clarissa nodded. “Nathan said I was to offer you the chance, but in either case, I was to open that locket and leave it hidden there. He said that Jagang having both Warren and the prophecies together could ruin everything, if you told Jagang anything important.”
Verna pressed her lips together as she let out a breath. She shared a look with Warren.
“I can’t believe that after all this time I’m finally going to get to meet the prophet himself,” Warren said. “Not long ago I had given up hope, and now . . . I will be meeting Nathan.”
Verna harrumphed. “Out of the rain and into the lake. I can’t believe I’ve sworn loyalty to that crazy old man.”
Clarissa leaned forward. “Nathan is dashing. He isn’t old.”
Verna barked a laugh. “You have no idea, child.”
“And he isn’t crazy, either. Nathan is the kindest, most wonderful, most generous man I’ve ever met!”
Verna glanced down at Clarissa’s cleavage, and back up to her eyes. She had that look that Clarissa was used to seeing.
“Yes,” Verna murmured. “I’m sure he is, my dear.”
“You could have no better man to swear loyalty to,” Clarissa said. “Besides being thoughtful and kind, Nathan is a powerful wizard. I saw him turn another wizard to a pile of dust.”
Verna’s brow creased. “Another wizard?”
Clarissa nodded. “Named Vincent. Vincent and another wizard and two Sisters, Jodelle and Willamina, came to see Nathan. They tried to hurt him. Nathan turned Vincent into a pile of ash.”
Verna’s eyebrows rose.
“After that,” Clarissa said, “they were very polite to Nathan, and Jagang agreed to give the book”—she tapped the book in her lap—“to Nathan. Jagang said Nathan could have either the book, or Sister Amelia. Now, Nathan will have both. Nathan has great plans. Nathan will rule the world, one day.”
Verna and Warren shared a sidelong glance. She looked at Amelia. “What is this book, Amelia?”
“I stole it from the Temple of the Winds,” Amelia said in a hoarse voice. “I’m the only one who can use it. I started a plague. Thousands have already died because of what I did. It was how Jagang eliminated Richard Rahl.
“Thank the Creator that we still have Nathan Rahl to protect us with the bond to him.”
“Dear Creator,” Verna whispered, “what have we agreed to with our oath to the likes of Nathan?”
Chapter 63
Richard rose from the wizard’s chair when he recognized the spirit gliding toward him. He couldn’t call a specific spirit, and he didn’t always know the ones who came, but he knew this one. With this one, he had a deep connection.
The person this spirit once was, he had loathed, he had feared. Only once he understood her, and only after he had forgiven her for what she had done to him, was he able to gain his release. This one he had killed, and in so doing, he freed her from her torment.
This spirit was the one who had later brought Kahlan and Richard together in that place between worlds.
“Richard,” the spirit said as she seemed to smile.
“Denna.”
“I see you wear an Agiel. It is not mine.”
Richard slowly shook his head. “It is that of yet another Mord-Sith who died because of me.”
“Raina. I knew her in the world of life, and I know her here. Since she passed into the spirit world after the violation of the winds, she may not come to you, here. She is not one of those who holds sway over the forces involved as they pertain to you and the winds. Know that her spirit is at peace. You gave her peace, in life, and so she asked me to come to you.”
Richard rolled the red Agiel in his fingers. “I gave your Agiel to Kahlan. As I promised you, one time, only she is able to give me more pain than you.”
“Only you, Richard, are able to give yourself more pain than I could give you.”
“Have it your way. I care not to argue. It is good to see you, Denna.”
“You may disagree, after I am finished with you.”
Richard smiled at her nature showing through, even in her spirit form. “You cannot harm me here, Denna.”
“You think not? I may not be able to harm your body, but I can still hurt you.” She nodded to herself. “Oh, yes, Richard, I can hurt you.”
“And how is that?”
Denna lifted an arm. “I can make you remember—remember and make it real again. You and I have a past.”
Richard spread his hands. “And to what purpose?”
Denna spread her luminous arms. “That is for you to decide, Richard.”
With a flash of light in his mind, the Temple of the Winds was gone, fading from his consciousness, and he was in a place he remembered: the castle in Tamarang. He was there again.
He could taste the terror. Denna had captured him. She had tortured him for days. He was delirious and weak. Every step was painful as he followed Denna through the grand dining hall. His wrists were cut and swollen from the manacles she used to shackle him up to a beam. When Denna stopped and spoke to people, Richard kept his eyes to her braid as he silently waited behind her.
Denna controlled his life, his destiny. He was allowed only that which she granted. He hadn’t eaten since she had captured him. He longed to eat something. Anything.
All around, the jumble of talking and laughter from the queen’s guests droned in his head. Denna, too, was a guest of the queen. Richard, at the end of a chain running from his mistress to a collar around his neck, was Denna’s prisoner.
She hadn’t let him eat during those days of torture, and he needed food. As she sat at the dining table, Denna snapped her fingers, pointing at the floor behind her chair. Richard sank to the floor, relieved to be allowed that small comfort. He could rest. He wasn’t hanging from the shackles; he wasn’t being made to stand all night; he wasn’t being tortured.
All of the guests were eating. The varied aromas tormented him. He ached with hunger. Everyone else was eating, but he had to sit on the floor behind Denna, watching what others enjoyed—what he was denied.
Richard thought about the times he had been with Kahlan, at camp, eating rabbit cooked over the fire or porridge sweetened with berries. He licked his lips thinking about the succulent, hot, tender meat, brown and crunchy on the outside from the fire. He had so enjoyed those meals with her. The food and the company were the best.
Now, he was denied that life, and was yoked to another. After everyone else had been eating for a while, a server brought a bowl of gruel. Denna had him hand it down to Richard. He held it in trembling hands. Almost any time before, he would have cast it aside in disgust, but now, it was all he had.
He was made to put it on the floor and to eat it like a dog, while laughter from the guests filled his ears. He didn’t care. He was being allowed to eat at last.
Gruel was all he was allowed, but at that moment, in his state of tormented need, it was wonderful—it was freedom from the ache of hunger, freedom from the misery of seeing others eat while he starved, fulfillment of a simple but long denied need.
He slurped at it, relishing it, gulping it down. He could not escape his imprisonment in his new life, over which he had no say, and so he decided that if gruel was all he would be allowed, then he would have to accept that fact, and sate his hunger with what he was given. The light flashed in his head.
Color bled from his sight, vanishing almost painfully, and he saw again the muted mists of the Temple of the Winds around him.
Richard was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting in terror. The glowing white spirit of Denna lowered over him.
Denna was right. She could hurt
him, still. This pain, though, she had given him out of love.
Richard staggered to his feet. How could he have thought he was ignorant before, and that the knowledge of the Temple of the Winds had brought him new sight? He had had sight all along, but had failed to see. Knowledge without heart was empty.
Wizard Ricker had left, with the sliph, a message for him, but he had ignored it.
Ward left in. Ward right out. Guard your heart from stone.
He had failed to guard his heart from stone, and it had almost cost him everything.
“Thank you, Denna, for that gift of pain.”
“It has taught you something, Richard?”
“That I have to go home, back to my world.”
“Thank you, Richard, for living up to what I expect of you.”
Richard smiled. “Were you not a spirit, I’d kiss you.”
Denna smiled a sad smile. “The thought is the gift, Richard.”
Richard shared a gaze with her for a moment, a gaze between worlds. “Denna, please tell Raina that we all love her.”
“Raina knows this. Feelings of the heart cross the boundary.”
Richard nodded. “Then you know how much we love you, too.”
“That is why I came to vouch for you in your quest to the winds.”
Richard held his arm out. “Would you escort me to the passageway? I would find peace in your company before I leave this empty place. The worst is yet ahead of me.”
Denna glided along at his side as he headed for the passageway out, striding the Hall of the Winds for the last time. They didn’t speak; words were too paltry to touch what was in his heart.
Near the great doors, the spirit of Darken Rahl waited.
“Going somewhere, my son?”
The sound of his words echoed painfully through the hall.
Richard glared at the spirit of his father. “Back to my world.”
“There is nothing for you there. Kahlan, your true love, is married to another man. She has sworn an oath to him before the spirits.”
“You could never understand why I’m going back.”
“Kahlan is married to my son, Drefan. You cannot have her now.”
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