“But what about the others?” Sister Rochelle asked. “Can you get them?”
Sister Georgia drew up tall and stiff. “You wait here, Prelate. Sister Rochelle, Aubrey, and Kerena will go with me to see what we can do.” She gave the three a look. “Won’t we? We know what we must do.”
The three nodded. Sister Kerena put a hand under Ann’s arm.
“You wait here. Will you? Wait here until we return.”
“Yes, all right,” Ann said. “But you must hurry. We need to get out of here before it gets too late in the night, or we will raise suspicions traipsing through the camp when everyone else is sleeping. We can’t wait for—”
“Just wait,” Sister Rochelle said in a calm voice. “We will see to it. Everything will be all right.”
Sister Georgia turned to the tent full of Sisters. “See to it she waits, will you? She must wait here.”
The Sisters nodded. Ann put her fists on her hips.
“If you take too long, we will have to leave without you. Do you understand? We can’t—”
Sister Rochelle put a hand against Ann’s shoulder. “We will be back in plenty of time. Wait.”
Ann sighed. “The Creator be with you.”
Ann sat among Sisters, who seemed to recede back into the prison of their private thoughts. Their joy, so evident when they had first seen her, had faded. They were once again distant and unresponsive.
They stared off without listening as Ann tried telling them some of the lighter stories of her adventures. She chuckled as she recounted incommodious moments, hoping someone would become interested and perhaps smile, at least. No one did.
None of them asked anything, or even seemed to be listening. They would no longer even meet her gaze. Like trapped animals, they wanted only to escape the terror.
Ann was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. By the moment, sitting among these women she knew so well, her hackles were beginning to rise at the thought that maybe she didn’t know them as well as she had believed.
Sometimes, trapped animals didn’t know enough to run for an open gate.
When the tent flap opened, they scooted away from her. Ann rose.
Four huge men, layered in leather plates, belts, straps, hides over their shoulders, and weapons jangling from their belts, ducked into the tent, followed by Sisters Georgia, Rochelle, Aubrey, and Kerena. The men’s stringy, greasy hair whipped from side to side as they checked to each side. By the way they carried themselves they looked to Ann to be men of more authority than mere soldiers.
Sister Rochelle pointed. “That’s her. The Prelate of the Sisters of the Light.”
“Rochelle,” Ann growled, “what’s this about? What do you think—”
The man seeming to be in charge seized her jaw, turning her head left, then right, as he appraised her. “You sure?” His dark glower moved to Sister Rochelle. “She looks like the rest of the beggars to me.”
Sister Georgia pointed at Ann. “I’m telling you, that’s her.” The man’s eyes turned to Sister Georgia as she went on. “She’s just fixed herself up like that to get in here.”
The man gestured the other soldiers forward. They brought manacles and chains. Ann tried to fight them off, to twist away, but the soldier who seized her, unconcerned, gripped her fists and pulled them out for another man to clamp on the manacles.
Two of them forced her to the ground as another man set down an anvil. They held the manacles’ ears on the anvil as they hammered pins through the holes and then mushroomed the heads of the pins, locking the manacles on permanently. They made them too tight, so they dug into her flesh, but the men were indifferent to her unintended cry of pain.
Ann knew better than to struggle when it could do no good, so she made herself become still. Without her Han, she was as helpless as a child against these big men. The Sisters mostly cowered as far away as they could get. None watched.
The men hammered closed the open links at the end of the chains. Ann let out a grunt as she was slammed face down in the dirt. More manacles were affixed to her ankles. More chains were attached. Big hands lifted her. A chain around her waist webbed all the rest together.
Ann was not even going to be able to feed herself.
One of the men scratched his thick beard. “And she has no one with her?”
Sisters Georgia and Rochelle shook their heads.
He chuckled. “How’d she get to be the Prelate, if she’s that dumb?”
Sister Georgia curtsied without meeting his eyes. “We don’t know, sir. But she is.”
He shrugged and started to leave, but then halted and cast his gaze over the shivering women on the floor. He pointed a thick finger at a Sister in one of the absurd transparent outfits.
“You.”
Sister Theola flinched. She closed her eyes. Ann could see her lips moving in a futile prayer to the Creator.
“Come along,” the man commanded.
Trembling, Sister Theola stood. The other three men grinned their approval of their leader’s choice as they shoved her out ahead of them.
“You said you wouldn’t,” Sister Georgia spoke up, if meekly.
“Did I?” the man asked. He showed her a wicked grin. “Changed my mind.”
“Let me go in her place,” Sister Georgia called out as the man turned to leave.
He turned back. “Well, well. Aren’t you the noble one.” He seized Sister Georgia’s wrist and pulled her after as he went out through the flap. “Since you’re so eager, you can come along with her.”
After the men left with the two women, the tent fell to terrible silence. None of the Sisters would look at Ann as she sat hobbled in the chains.
“Why?” Ann had spoken the word softly, but it rang though the tent like the huge bell atop the Palace of the Prophets. Several Sisters quailed at the single word. Others wept.
“We know better than to try to escape,” Sister Rochelle said at last. “We all tried at first. We truly did, Prelate. Some of us died trying. It was prolonged and horrible.
“His Excellency taught us the futility of trying to escape. Aiding anyone in an attempt to escape is a grave offense. None of us wishes that lesson visited upon us again.”
“But you could have been free!”
“We know better,” Sister Rochelle said. “We can’t be free. We belong to His Excellency.”
“As victims at first,” Ann said, “but now by choice. I willingly risked my life that you might be free. You were given the option, and you chose to remain slaves rather than reach for freedom.
“Worse, though, you all lied to me. You lied in the cause of evil.” The women hid their faces as Ann delivered a withering glare. “And each of you knows what I think of liars—what the Creator thinks of those who lie in the cause of opposing his work.”
“But Prelate—” Sister Cherna whined.
“Silence! I’ve no use for your words. You no longer have any right to have me hear them.
“If I ever get out of these chains, it will be by the aid of those who sincerely serve the Light. You are no better than the Sisters of the Dark. At least they have the honesty to admit their vile master.”
Ann fell silent when a man stepped through the opening into the tent.
He was average in height and powerfully built, with massive arms and chest. His fur vest was open, revealing dozens of jewel-studded gold chains hanging from his bull neck. Each thick finger held a ring worthy of a king.
His smooth shaved head reflected points of light from the candles. A fine gold chain ran from a gold ring in his left nostril to another in his left ear. The long braided ends of his mustache hung past his jaw, matching the braid in the center under his lower lip.
His eyes, though, marked the nightmare of the dream walker.
They had no whites to them at all. The murky orbs were clouded over with sullen dusky shapes shifting in a field of inky obscurity, yet Ann had no doubt whatsoever that he was looking right at her.
She couldn’t imagine
the gaze of the Keeper himself being any worse.
“A visitor, I see.” His voice matched his muscle.
“The pig can speak,” Ann said. “How fascinating.”
Jagang laughed. It was not an agreeable sound.
“Oh, darlin, but aren’t you the brash sort. Georgia tells me you’d be the Prelate herself. That true, darlin?”
She noticed out of the corner of her eye that every woman in the tent was on her knees with her face to the dirt in a deep bow. Ann couldn’t say she didn’t understand their not wanting to meet the man’s disturbing gaze.
She gave him a pleasant smile. “Annalina Aldurren, former Prelate of the Sisters of the light, at your service.”
The cleft between his prodigious chest muscles deepened as he pressed his hands together in the pose of prayer and bowed toward her with mock respect of her rank.
“Emperor Jagang, at yours.”
Ann sighed irritably. “Well, what’s it to be, Jagang? Torture? Rape? Hanging, beheading, burning?”
The grisly grin visited him again. “My, my, darlin, but don’t you know how to tempt a man.”
He grabbed a fistful of hair and lifted Sister Cherna.
“See, the thing is, I got plenty of these regular Sisters, and I got plenty of the other kind, too, the ones sworn to the Keeper. I confess to liking them better.” He arched an eyebrow over a forbidding eye. “They can still use some of their magic.”
Sister Cherna’s eyes watered in pain as he gripped her throat. “But I’ve only got one Prelate.”
Sister Cherna’s feet were clear of the ground by several inches. She couldn’t breathe, but made no effort to fight. His terrible massive muscles rippled and glistened in the candlelight.
The cords in his arm strained. Cherna’s eyes widened as his grip tightened. Her mouth gaped in silent fright.
“So,” Jagang said to the others, “she confirmed everything about the chimes? Told you everything about them?”
“Yes!” several offered at once, clearly hoping he would release Sister Cherna.
Not everything, Ann thought. If Zedd was ever going to succeed at anything, she hoped the chimes would be it.
“Good.” Jagang dropped the woman.
Sister Cherna crumpled in a heap, her hands tearing at her throat as she struggled to get air. She couldn’t get her breath. Jagang had crushed her windpipe. Her fingers clawed at the air. As she lay at his feet, she began turning blue.
With desperate effort, she struggled her way into Ann’s lap. Ann stroked the poor ruined woman’s head with an outpouring of helpless compassion.
Ann whispered her love and forgiveness to Sister Cherna, and then silently prayed to the Creator and to the good spirits.
Sister Cherna’s arms, twitching in agony, circled Ann’s waist in gratitude. Ann could do nothing but pray that the Creator would forgive his child as she died a burbling death in Ann’s lap. At last, she stilled with the merciful release of death.
Jagang kicked Sister Cherna aside. He seized the chain around Ann’s throat and with one hand easily hauled her to her feet. Cloudy shapes in his inky eyes shifted in a way that unsettled her stomach.
“I think you may be of some use. Maybe I can pull off your arms and send them to Richard Rahl, just to give him nightmares. Maybe I can trade you for something of value. But fear not, I will think of a use for you, Prelate. You are now my property.”
“You can have my existence in this world,” Ann said with grim commitment, “but you cannot touch my soul. That gift of the Creator is mine, and mine alone.”
He laughed. “A fine speech.” He jerked her face closer. “One I’ve heard before.” His eyebrows arched with delight. “Why, I think every woman in this room has said the same to me. But you know what, Prelate? They put the lie to it today, didn’t they?
“They all gave you over, when they could have escaped. At the least, they could have saved your life at no risk to themselves. But they chose to remain slaves when you offered them freedom.
“I’d say, Prelate, that I have their souls, too.”
“Sister Cherna sought me at death, not you, Jagang. She sought goodness and love, even though she had betrayed me. That, Emperor, is the mark of a soul’s true intent.”
“A difference of opinion, then.” He shrugged. “What say we kill the rest, one at a time, and see each vote of devotion, then tally the votes at the end? To be fair, though, we’ll take turns killing them. I killed mine. Your turn.”
Ann could do no more than glare at the beast.
He let out a belly laugh. “No? See, you aren’t so confident in winning the votes of your Sisters’ souls.”
He turned to the Sisters, still on their knees. “Fortune for you today, darlins. The Prelate seems to have ceded your souls.”
His dark gaze returned to Ann. “By the way, you are probably hoping the chimes will be banished. We share the hope. I have use for magic, but if I have to, I can certainly win this way, too.
“But if the chimes are banished, it will do you no good. You see, those manacles and chains are invested with a spell spun by my other Sisters. You know the ones. The Sisters of the Dark. As you know, they have use of Subtractive Magic, and that, my dear Prelate, still works.
“I just didn’t want you to suffer with false hope.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Don’t fret, though. I will think of some creative use for you.”
He cocked his arm. His bare shoulders bulged from the fur vest. His biceps were bigger than the waist of many women in the room.
“For now, though, I think I’d like you unconscious.”
She tried to pull power forth. Her gift did not respond.
Ann watched the fist coming, but could do nothing to stop it.
Chapter 46
Zedd scratched his chin as he looked around. He didn’t see anyone. It was a peculiar alleyway, narrow and dark. He peered down to the little place at the end. The gloomy residence looked deserted.
That was a good sign.
Zedd stroked Spider’s nose. “You wait here. Understand? Wait here for me.”
The horse tossed her head and nickered agreeably. Smiling, Zedd scratched her ear. In response, she pressed her forehead against his chest, holding it there to let him know she would be well pleased if he were to want to continue scratching the ear for the rest of the afternoon.
Named after the unsettling leggy black splotch on her creamy rump, Spider had proven an excellent purchase, despite the high price. Being young, strong, and brimming with equine enthusiasm, the horse enjoyed trotting and occasional spirited runs. She had gotten him to Toscla in remarkably good time.
Since he had arrived, he had learned that Toscla was now called Anderith. In fact, he had almost been hauled off his horse by a man who accused Zedd of using the old name as an affront. Fortunately, Spider knew nothing of the peculiar human sensitivity to mere words; she was happy to leap into a gallop.
Zedd, without use of the gift and being vulnerable, besides feeling his age, had been resigned to a long and arduous journey afoot across the wilds. But by the magic of luck, on his third day out of the Mud People’s village, he ran across a man who turned out to be an agent in trade agreements. Since he frequently went back and forth between clients, the man traveled with several horses. He could afford to be without his extra until he reached his destination, especially at the price Zedd offered, and so had parted with Spider.
The formidable journey Zedd anticipated ended up being remarkably short and not at all unpleasant, as long as he didn’t dwell on his reasons for traveling to Anderith.
Mingling into line at the frontier, Zedd had been allowed through the checkpoint along with wagons, merchants, and traders of every sort. Dressed as he was in his fine maroon and black robes with silver brocade cuffs and gold brocade around the neck and down the front along with a gold buckle on a red satin belt, he was easily able to pass himself off as a merchant. He told the officers at the border that he had
fruit orchards to the north and was on his way to Fairfield in order to negotiate trade agreements.
By the look of the soldiers he saw at the border, the people of Anderith placed too much faith in the Dominie Dirtch. It had been a long time since he had been to the land formerly called Toscla, but back then the border had been defended by as formidable and well trained an army as there was. The army had deteriorated until now it was nothing more than the hollow deterrent of ignorant confidence.
Zedd noticed Spider’s ears turn toward the empty-looking home down at the end of the alleyway. Every muscle in the horse was at full attention. Zedd guessed that perhaps a horse was as good at certain things as some of his magic might have been. He found the thought disagreeable. He wanted his magic back.
After giving Spider a pat of reassurance, and once again asking her to wait there, Zedd made his way down the narrow alleyway. Tall clapboard walls to each side kept out most of the light. Nevertheless, a wide variety of herbs grew beside the narrow footpath. Many of the herbs Zedd saw growing there didn’t enjoy the light at all. Some of them were exceedingly rare; they ordinarily hissed at light, but now they looked sickly.
Zedd made sure to step on each of the three steps going up to the door, rather than skip any. Such perfunctory attempts at stealth would be a mistake, if this was the place he hoped it was. Glancing, in the gap of the curtains, he could see it was dark inside. He didn’t see any eyes evaluating him, but he strongly suspected, if not with the aid of magic then with common sense, that they were there.
He took one last look over his shoulder at Spider standing attentively, her ears pricked toward him. She lifted her head, opened her mouth, and neighed. Zedd reached up and knocked.
The door creaked as it opened. No one was behind it.
“Enter,” came a voice from the shadows beyond, “and state your request.”
Zedd stepped into the gloom of the narrow room. Little light came in the gap between the heavy curtains, and the light from the door died out before daring to trespass very far. He could see no furniture, only the floorboards stretching off into the dim distance where she remained.
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