“What’s going on?” he asked, more seriously. “I heard that some king just rode in with a hundred heads on pikes.”
“The king of Jara. Remember? You sent him Tristan’s head, demanding his surrender?”
“Oh, that king.” Richard slid down into a chair beside her. “Whose heads are they?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
The guards pulled open the double doors. Light stabbed in through the doorway, silhouetting the two figures as they approached.
Once before the dais, the king spread his violet cape, trimmed in spotted white fox, and went to one knee in a deep bow. Behind him, the star guide went to both knees, in his bow.
“Rise, my children,” Kahlan said in formal response to the bow.
“Mother Confessor,” King Jorin said, “how good to see you again.”
His trim figure, his graying hair meticulously cut so that it swept back as if he were facing the wind, his elegant scabbard and sword, his ribbons, his sash, his red and blue and gold-embroidered coat, and his jeweled pins, made him look one of the most grand of kings, Kahlan had always thought.
“And you, King Jorin.” Kahlan lifted an introductory hand. “This is Lord Rahl, Master of the D’Haran empire, and my husband to be.”
The king lifted an eyebrow. “As I have heard it told. My congratulations.”
Richard leaned forward. “I sent you a message. What is your reply?”
Kahlan thought that she had a lot of work to do, teaching Richard proper diplomatic decorum.
The king let out a belly laugh. “It will be a pleasure being part of an empire led by a man who doesn’t jibber jabber me to death.” He lifted a thumb, indicating the star guide behind him. “Like some people.”
“And does that mean that you surrender?” Richard pressed.
“It does indeed, Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor.
“A large delegation from the Imperial Order came to Sandilar and invited us to join the Imperial Order. We had been waiting for a sign, as requested by Javas Kedar, here. Tristan thought to take matters into his own hands, and try to strike a favorable deal with the Order.
“When the plague came, we thought it showed the power of the Order, and we feared that, I must admit, but when you swept the plague from the land, that was sign enough for me. Javas, here, will no doubt soon find the appropriate sign in the sky to confirm my decision. If not, there are other star guides.”
A red-faced Javas Kedar bowed. “As I told you, Your Highness, as your star guide, I will be able to confirm your decision without difficulty.”
The king scowled over his shoulder. “Good!”
“And the heads?” Richard asked.
“The delegation from the Imperial Order. I brought you their heads to show you my sincerity. I wanted you to see that this is a choice I make with conviction. I thought it a fitting answer to the likes of people who would cast a plague into the land, to kill indiscriminately. It shows their true nature, putting the lie to all the things they say.”
Richard bowed his head to the king. “Thank you, King Jorin.”
“Who ordered the beheading of my nephew, Tristan?”
“I did,” Richard said. “As I stood on a balcony watching, with the Mother Confessor at my side, Tristan entered the Mother Confessor’s bedroom and stabbed a nightdress stuffed with tow that we had placed there. He thought he was killing her.”
The king shrugged. “Justice befits all, no matter his station. I bear no grudge. Tristan did not serve our people well, either. I look forward to the day we can be rid of the threat from the Order.”
“As do we,” Richard said. “With your help, we are that much closer to that day.”
As the king went to see to the signing of papers, and to discuss logistics with the D’Haran command, Richard and Kahlan rose to leave, but were interrupted by a guard.
“What is it?” Kahlan asked.
“There are three men asking to see Lord Rahl.”
“Three men? Who are they?”
“They did not give their names. Mother Confessor, but they said they were Raug’Moss.”
Richard sat back down. “Send them in.”
Under the desk, Kahlan reached over and curled her fingers around his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze as three figures in flaxen cloaks, with broad hoods pulled up onto their heads, and with their hands folded before them, glided up to the dais.
“I am Lord Rahl,” Richard said.
“Yes,” the one in front said, “we feel the bond.” He lifted a hand out to his side. “This is Brother Kerloff, and this is Brother Houck.” He pushed his hood back to reveal a heavily creased face and a head of thinning gray hair. “I am Marsden Taboor.”
Richard warily eyed the three men. “Welcome to Aydindril. I hear you wanted to see me. What is it I can do for you?”
“We are searching for Drefan Rahl,” Marsden Taboor said.
Richard rubbed his thumb along the edge of the desk as he watched the three men. “I’m sorry, but your High Priest is dead.”
The two in back shared a look.
Marsden Taboor’s expression darkened. “High Priest? I am the High Priest of the Raug’Moss, and have been since before Drefan was born.”
Richard frowned. “Drefan told us he was the High Priest.”
Marsden Taboor stroked his temple as he searched for words. “Lord Rahl, I’m afraid that your brother was . . . given to delusion. If he told you that he was the High Priest of the Raug’Moss, then he was deceiving you for reasons I fear to imagine.
“He was left with us by his mother, when he was a young boy. We raised him, knowing what his father would do should he come to discover a son without the gift. Drefan could be—dangerous. Once we realized this, we kept him confined, within our community, to prevent him from hurting anyone.
“He was talented at healing, and we always hoped that he would come to be at peace with himself. We hoped that through healing he could find a way to prove his worth, in his own right.
“A while back, he vanished. Several of our healers were found dead. They had been killed in a most unpleasant fashion: torture. We have been searching for Drefan since. We have been to several places where he had been, and found women who had been murdered in a similar way.
“Drefan had an unsavory attitude toward women. His father, too, was not inclined to be kind toward women. Though he escaped his father in body, I think he failed to escape him in spirit.
“I pray he has not caused harm to anyone here.”
Richard was silent for a time before he spoke.
“We had a plague. A terrible plague. Thousands died. Without regard for himself, Drefan, upholding the noble ideals of the Raug’Moss, worked to help those stricken. He shared his knowledge, and in that way may have prevented yet more from dying.
“My brother, in his own way, helped stop the plague, and in so doing, he died.”
Marsden Taboor folded his hands before him again as he studied Richard’s eyes. “Is this the way you wish it remembered?”
“He was my brother. Partly because of his being here, I learned the power of forgiveness.”
Kahlan squeezed Richard’s hand under the table.
“Thank you for seeing me, Lord Rahl.” Marsden Taboor bowed. “In your light we thrive.”
“Thank you,” Richard whispered.
The three healers started away, but Marsden Taboor turned back. “I knew your father. You do not take after him. Drefan did. Not many will mourn the passing of your father, or your brother.
“I can see in your eyes, Lord Rahl, a healer, a true healer, besides a warrior. A wizard, as a healer, must be in balance, or he is lost. D’Hara is well served, at long last. Call on us if you have need.”
Ulic let out a sigh when the doors closed. “Lord Rahl, there are other representatives also wishing to see you.”
“If you are well enough,” Cara added.
“Someone always wants to see us.” Richard stood and held out his ha
nd to Kahlan. “General Kerson can see them. Don’t we have something more important to do?”
“Are you sure you are well enough?” Kahlan asked.
“I’ve never felt better. You haven’t had a change of mind, have you?”
Kahlan smiled as she took his hand and stood. “Never. If Lord Rahl is fully recovered, what are we waiting for? My things are ready.”
“About time,” Berdine muttered.
As they waited for Richard to return, Kahlan put a reassuring hand on Cara’s back. “She wouldn’t lie to us, Cara. If the sliph says you can travel, you can travel.”
The sliph had tested Cara, Berdine, Ulic, and Egan, all of them thinking that, as guards, they should go along to protect Richard and Kahlan.
Only Cara had passed the sliph’s test. Richard guessed that it was because Cara had linked with the Andolian leader, Legate Rishi, and he must have an element of both sides of the magic. Cara didn’t like anything to do with magic, and the sliph was definitely magic enough to give her pause.
Kahlan leaned close, and whispered in Cara’s ear. “You have passed bigger tests than this, in this room. I am a sister of the Agiel; I will hold your hand the whole way.”
Cara eyed Kahlan, and then the sliph.
“You have to do it, Cara,” Berdine pleaded. “You will be the only Mord-Sith at the wedding of our Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor.”
Cara’s brow twitched as she leaned toward Berdine. “Lord Rahl healed you one time.” Berdine nodded. “Since then, have you felt a . . . special bond with him?”
Berdine smiled. “Yes. That is why I want you to go. I’ll be all right. I know Raina would want you to go, too.” She gave Ulic a backhanded slap on his stomach. “Besides, someone has to stay here and keep Ulic and Egan in line.”
Ulic and Egan, together, rolled their eyes.
Cara put a hand on Kahlan’s arm as she leaned close and whispered, “Since Lord Rahl healed you, have you felt . . . have you felt it, too?”
Kahlan smiled. “I felt it before he healed me. It is called love, Cara. Truly caring about someone else, not only because you are bonded to them, but because you share something in your heart. When he healed you, you felt his love for you.”
“But I knew before that.”
Kahlan shrugged. “Maybe it was just a more vivid way of feeling it.”
Cara lifted her Agiel, rolling it in her fingers. “Maybe, he is a brother of the Agiel.”
Kahlan smiled. “With all we’ve been through together, I guess we are all as close as family.”
Richard strode into the room. “I’m ready. Shall we travel?”
Richard couldn’t take the Sword of Truth into the sliph; its magic was incompatible with life being sustained while traveling. He had gone up to leave his sword in the First Wizard’s enclave, where it would be safe, where no one but he could get to it. Except Zedd, of course. But Zedd was no longer living. At least, Kahlan didn’t think he was alive. Richard refused to doubt that he was.
Richard rubbed his hands together. “So, Cara, are you going, or not? I would really like you to be there. It would mean a lot to us.”
Cara smiled. “I must go. You are incapable of protecting yourself. Without a Mord-Sith, you would be helpless.”
Richard turned to the silver face watching them. “Sliph, I know that I put you to sleep before, but you didn’t stay asleep. Why?”
“You did not put me into the deep sleep from which only one such as yourself can call me. You put me—at rest. Others can call me if I am only at rest.”
“But we can’t allow those others to use you. Can’t you refuse? Can’t you just not go to them if they call? We can’t have you taking Jagang’s wizards and such all over Creation to cause trouble.”
The sliph regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “Those who made me the sliph made me this way. I must travel with those who ask, if they have the price of power required.” She moved to the edge of her well, closer to him. “But if I was asleep, only you have the power to call me, master, and then the others could not use me.”
“But I tried to put you to sleep before, and it didn’t work.”
The sliph’s smile returned. “You did not have the silver required, before.”
“Silver?”
The sliph reached out and touched his wristbands. “Silver.”
“You mean, when I crossed my wrists to put you to sleep before, it didn’t work because I didn’t have these? And now, if I put you to sleep, it will work?”
“Yes, master.”
Richard thought a moment. “Does it—hurt, or anything, when you are put into this sleep?”
“No. It is rapture, for me, when I sleep, because I am with the rest of my soul.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “When you sleep, you go to the world of souls?”
“Yes, master. I am not to tell anyone how it is that they can put me into the sleep, but you are the only master, and since you wished to know, you will not be angry that I tell you.”
Richard sighed with relief. “Thank you, sliph. You have given us a way to prevent the wrong people from using you. I’m glad to know that you will be pleased to go into your sleep.”
Richard hugged Berdine. “Take care of everything until we get back.”
“I am to be in charge, then?” Berdine asked.
Richard frowned suspiciously. “All three of you are in charge.”
“Are you sure you heard that, mistress Berdine?” Ulic asked. “I don’t want you to later say that you heard no such orders.”
Berdine made a face at him as Richard helped Kahlan up onto the well. “I heard. All three of us are to take care of things.”
Kahlan adjusted the bone knife on her arm, and the pack on her back. She took Cara’s hand as she climbed up.
“Sliph,” Richard said with a big grin, “we wish to travel.”
Chapter 69
Breathe.
Kahlan let go the silken rapture and drew in a breath, and the world. As they sat up on the edge of the sliph’s stone wall, Kahlan smacked Cara on the back.
“Breathe, Cara. Come on, let it go. Let out the sliph, and breathe.”
Cara finally bent forward and released the sliph from her lungs, reluctantly pulling a breath. Kahlan remembered how hard it was the first time, not only to breathe the sliph, but to then breathe the air again. Cara had held on tightly to Richard and Kahlan’s hands the whole time they traveled.
Cara looked up with a silly grin. “That was—wonderful.”
Richard gave them both a hand down. Kahlan adjusted the bone knife on her arm, and the small pack on her back. It felt good to be in her traveling clothes again. Cara thought that Kahlan looked odd in pants.
“This is where you wished to travel,” the sliph said. “The Jocopo Treasure.”
Richard looked around the cave, having to duck down because the ceiling was so low. “I don’t see any treasure.”
“It’s in the next room,” Kahlan told him. “Someone must be expecting us. They left a torch burning.”
“Are you ready to sleep?” Richard asked the sliph.
“Yes, master. I look forward to being with my soul.”
The thought of what the sliph was, what the wizards had made her into, gave Kahlan shivers.
“Will it make you—unhappy, when I need to wake you again?”
“No, master. I am always ready to please.”
Richard nodded. “Thank you for your help. We all are in your debt. Have a good . . . sleep.”
The sliph smiled at him as Richard crossed his wrists, closing his eyes, calling the magic.
The shiny silver face, reflecting the dancing torchlight, softened, melting back into the pool of quicksilver. Richard’s fists began to glow. The silver wristbands he wore brightened to such intensity that Kahlan could see the other side of them through his flesh and bone, and the way they touched, they formed into endless twin loops: the symbol for infinity.
The pool of sparkling silver took on the
glow as the sliph sank down into her well, slowly at first, and then with gathering speed, until she vanished into the far darkness below.
Richard took the reed torch and the three of them moved out through a wide, low passageway, following the twisting, turning route through dark brown rock, until they came at last to an expansive room.
Kahlan gestured around the room. “The Jocopo Treasure.”
Richard held the torch up. Torchlight reflected back in thousands of golden sparkles from the room filled with gold in nearly every form, from nuggets and crude ingots to golden statues.
“Well, it isn’t hard to see why it’s called the Jocopo Treasure,” Richard said. He pointed toward the shelves. “Looks like something is missing.”
Kahlan saw what he meant. “When I was here before, those shelves were packed full of rolled vellum scrolls.” She sniffed the air. “Something else is missing, too. This room was filled with foul air before. It’s gone now.”
She remembered how it made her gag and cough, and her head spin, having to breathe the stench. On the floor of the cave was a smoldering heap of ash.
Kahlan swiped the toe of her boot across the ash. “I wonder what happened here.”
The flame of the torch whipped and fluttered as they followed the twisting tunnel up and out into a golden dawn. Thin bands of violet clouds drifted across the sunrise. Luminous gold, more stunning than the Jocopo Treasure, edged the clouds. Verdant grasslands spread out before them, smelling clean and fresh.
“It looks like the Azrith Plains in spring,” Cara said, “before the high heat of summer bakes it barren.”
Broad swaths of wildflowers at their feet led in the general direction of the Mud People. Kahlan took Richard’s hand. It was a beautiful morning for a walk through the spring grasslands of the wilds. It was a beautiful day to be married. Long before they reached the Mud People’s village, they could hear the sound of drums drifting out onto the plains. Laughter and song filled the morning air.
“Sounds like the Mud People are having a banquet,” Richard said. “What do you think that’s about?”
His voice sounded uneasy. She felt the same; banquets were usually held to call the spirit ancestors, in preparation for a gathering.
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