Pillars of Creation

by Terry Goodkind

  wasteland. At the same time, while vastly outnumbered, the traders seemed reluctant to be cowed, lest they set a precedent for how they were treated thereafter. They were debating, now, trying to figure out the balance where their safety lay.

  Sebastian pushed away from the wall. "Maybe you're right. I'll go in and talk to them alone-in their building, instead of out here under the eyes of the army."

  "I'll go with you," she said.

  "What is it? What do you think?" Sister Perdita asked Sebastian as she marched up from behind.

  With a casual flip of his hand, Sebastian dismissed her concern. "I think they just want to bargain. They're traders. That's what they dobargain. It might be counterproductive to try to force them."

  "I will go in and change their minds," the Sister said with dark intent.

  "No," Sebastian said. "Now is not the time to complicate a simple matter. We can always apply more pressure if we need to. Just let Jennsen and me go in and talk to them, first."

  Jennsen walked away from a scowling Sister Perdita, sticking close to Sebastian's side, pulling Rusty along behind. The other thing about the journey that had been unexpected-in addition to the escort of the thousand troops-had been that Sister Perdita had decided to come along. She said that it was necessary, in case Jennsen needed any more help in getting close to Lord Rahl.

  Jennsen just wanted to plunge her knife into that murderous bastard son of Darken Rahl and be done with it all. She had long since given up any hope of it freeing her to have her own life. After that night in the woods with Sister Perdita and the seven other Sisters, everything had changed. Jennsen had made a bargain that she knew would mean she would have no life after she finally killed Richard Rahl. But at least everyone else would have their lives back. The world would at last be free of her half brother and his evil rule.

  And she would have vengeance. Her mother, who had been denied even a proper burial, could at last rest in peace knowing that her murderer had finally been visited with justice. That was all Jennsen could do for her mother.

  Jennsen and Sebastian led Rusty and Pete to where the Sister's horse was waiting, in a small side paddock. Rusty and Pete welcomed the shade and the water trough.

  After closing the small rickety gate to the paddock, Jennsen followed

  Sebastian into the shadow of the doorway of the squat building. The jabbering voices of the men echoing inside the single room fell silent. All the men were swathed in the traditional black robes of the nomadic traders who lived in this part of the world.

  "Leave us, then," the lead man said, waving his fellows out at seeing Sebastian and Jennsen enter.

  The men, their eyes peering out at her from gaps in the black cloth they were pulling back up across their mouths and noses, nodded as they filed by. By their crinkled exposed eyes, the men seemed to be smiling congenially at her from beneath the masks, but she couldn't be sure. Just in case, and considering what was at stake, she smiled back as she returned a bow of her head.

  The stagnant air inside the room was sweltering, but at least the shade was a relief. The one man remaining inside hadn't pulled the loose wraps of black cloth back up, so they sagged around his neck, away from his smiling, weathered, leathery face.

  "Please," he said to Jennsen, "come in. You look fiery."

  "Fiery?" she asked.

  "Hot," he said. "You are not dressed for this place." He shuffled over to the rough plank shelves at the side and returned with one of the black bundles stored there. "Please to wear this." He lifted it toward her several times, urging her to take it. "It will make you better. It will cover you from the sun and hold in your sweat so you don't dry like rock."

  Jennsen again bowed her head toward the small wiry man and smiled her appreciation. "Thank you."

  "Well?" Sebastian asked when the man turned away from Jennsen. Sebastian wearily pulled his pack off his back. "Any luck finding out anything from those other men?"

  The black-robed figure hesitated, clearing his throat. "Well, they say that maybe . . ."

  Sebastian impatiently rolled his eyes when he caught the man's veiled meaning, and then fished around in his pocket until he came up with a silver coin. "Please accept this gesture of my appreciation for the efforts of your men."

  The man took it respectfully, but it was clear the silver coin was not the price he was hoping for. He seemed hesitant, though, to say that he found the amount inadequate. Jennsen couldn't believe that Sebastian was quibbling about money at a time like this. She pulled a heavy gold coin from her pocket and, without bothering to ask Sebastian if it was all right,

  simply flipped it to the man. The man caught the gold in midair, then opened his fist just enough for a peek of confirmation. He grinned his appreciation at her. Sebastian shot her a look of displeasure.

  It was Lord Rahl's blood money, the money he had given the men sent to kill her and her mother. She could think of no better use for it.

  "I don't need it," she said before he could lecture her. "Besides, aren't you the one who said it was your way to use what was close to the enemy to get back at him?"

  Sebastian withheld any comment and turned to the man. "What about it?"

  "Late yesterday," the man said, finally more forthcoming, "some of our men spotted two people going down into the Pillars of Creation." He went to a small, uncovered window beside shelves stocked with simple supplies along with more of the black outfits. He pointed. "Down that way. There is a trail of sorts."

  "Did your men talk to them?" Jennsen asked, stepping forward impatiently. "Do your men know who it was?"

  The man looked from her to Sebastian, hesitating, apparently not comfortable answering such direct questions from a woman, even if she had been the one who had paid his price. Sebastian gave her a look that said she should let him handle it. Jennsen stepped back toward the doorway, peering out, acting disinterested so that Sebastian could get the answers they needed.

  Jennsen's heart hammered as she pictured in her mind stabbing Lord Rahl. The shadow of the awful price of luring her brother to this place where she was to kill him loomed over the scene in her mind of the act itself.

  Sebastian wiped sweat from his brow and tossed his heavy pack to the side of the floor. The pack hit with a hard clank and fell over. Some of the things spilled out. Annoyed, he made to pick it up, but Jennsen intercepted him.

  "I'll tend to this," she whispered, waving him back to the questioning of the small fellow in black.

  Sebastian leaned against the heavy, ancient-looking plank table and folded his arms. "So, did your men have a chance to talk to these two people?"

  "No, sir. The men were not close enough, but stood at the rim and watched the horse pass below."

  Jennsen retrieved a cake of lye soap and replaced it in the pack. She

  folded the razor and put it back in, along with an extra waterskin that had tumbled out. She picked up small items-a flint, strips of dried meat wrapped in cloth, and a whetstone. A tin she had never seen before had rolled out of the pack and under a low shelf.

  "What did these two people on horseback look like, then?" Sebastian was asking as he tapped a finger on the table.

  As she reached under the shelf, Jennsen listened carefully, waiting to hear if this might be Richard Rahl. She couldn't really imagine who else it could be. She didn't believe such a thing could be coincidence.

  "It was a man and a woman. But they came on only one horse."

  Jennsen thought that was strange, that both would be riding one horse. It sounded likely that it was what she expected, Lord Rahl and his wife, the Mother Confessor, but it was odd that they were on one horse. Something could have happened to the other horse. In this dangerous land such a thing wasn't hard to imagine.

  "The woman, she. . . " The man made a face, uncomfortable with what he had to say. "She was not upright, but lying flat"-he gestured as if draping something over the horse-"across the back. She was tied up with rope."

  As Jennsen pulled the tin out in a
rush of surprise, the lid caught a jagged edge of the wooden shelf and popped off. The contents spilled out across the floor in front of her.

  "What did the man look like?" Sebastian asked.

  A short piece of wood wound with twine and fastened down with fishing hooks had fallen out of the top of the tin. Jennsen stared down at a dark pile of dried mountain fever roses that had spilled out after the twine. They looked like dozens of little Graces.

  "The man was big, and young. He had a very grand sword, my men say, its shining scabbard held on with a baldric across his shoulder.

  "That sounds like Richard Rahl, " Sister Perdita said from the doorway, startling Jennsen.

  "Other men use a baldric for their sword," Sebastian said.

  While she couldn't fathom a reason for him to have his wife tied across his horse, at the heady thought of Richard Rahl being spotted, Jennsen hurriedly scooped up the dried mountain fever roses in her trembling fingers and stuffed them back in the tin followed by the twine. She replaced the lid and quickly shoved the tin back into the pack along with the few remaining items that had fallen out.

  She checked her knife in its sheath at her belt as she hastily stood next

  to Sebastian, waiting to hear what else the wiry man in black might have to say. Sister Perdita had stepped outside and was wrapping herself in the protective black clothes.

  "Come on," the Sister called. "We have to get down there."

  Jennsen wanted to follow after her, but Sebastian was still questioning the man. She didn't want to leave Sebastian and go alone with Sister Perdita, but the woman was already heading off in the direction of the trail the man had pointed out.

  From outside, on the other side of the buildings, came the sound of the traders jabbering excitedly. Jennsen peered around the side of the building and saw them pointing out across the flat, baked ground.

  "What is it?" Sebastian asked as he followed the man out the door.

  "Someone approaches," the man said.

  "Who could it be?" Jennsen whispered to Sebastian as he came up beside her.

  "I don't know. Could just be another trader arriving at the post."

  The wiry little man, having answered the questions, bowed and wanted to depart to be with his men where they huddled together in the shade beside another building. Sebastian made him wait as he went back in and pulled a black bundle off the shelf.

  "We best catch up with Sister Perdita," he said as he watched the woman vanish over the rim of the trail down into the wavering landscape of the Pillars of Creation. "She'll protect you from Richard Rahl's magic and help you do what you need to do."

  Jennsen wanted to say that she didn't need Sister Perdita's protection, that Lord Rahl's magic couldn't hurt her, but it was not the time to go into the whole subject with him, to explain the whole thing to him. Somehow, it never seemed the time. It didn't really matter, anyway, what Sebastian believed about how she could get close to Richard Rahl, it only mattered that she did.

  Together, the two of them stood in the sweltering sun, watching the tiny speck racing across the endless flat landscape. In the withering heat, the distant ground undulated like the rippling surface of a faraway lake. A thin plume of dust rose behind the lone rider. Their escort of a thousand men restlessly checked their weapons.

  "Is it one of your men?" Sebastian asked the wiry leader of the blackrobed figures.

  "The ground here plays tricks with your eyes," he said. "He is still far off; the heat only makes him look closer. It will be some time before the

  rider reaches us and we can tell who it is." He smiled at Jennsen, gesturing encouragement. "Put the clothing on, and you will be covered from the sun. "

  Rather than argue, Jennsen threw the gauzy, capelike garment around her shoulders. She wrapped the long scarf over and around her head, as she had seen the men doing, pulling it across her nose and mouth and then tucking the tail under the side. She was immediately surprised at how the black cloth cut the hot glare of the sun. It felt a relief, almost like standing in shade.

  The man's eyes smiled at seeing the look on her face. "Good, yes?" he asked through his own thin black mask.

  "Yes," Jennsen said. "Thank you for your help. But we must pay you for these things you gave us."

  With a twinkle in his eye, he said, "You already have."

  The man turned to Sebastian, still pulling his black scarf over his head. "I have told you all I can, all we know. My men and I go, now."

  Before Sebastian could answer, the man was already hurrying across the parched ground toward the dark knot of men waiting with their dusty mules. The men started away, pulling their mules after on lead lines, eager to be away from the soldiers.

  They were headed south, in the opposite direction of the approaching rider.

  "If it might be one of their men," Sebastian said, almost to himself, "then why are they leaving?"

  He looked impatiently to the small trail where Sister Perdita had disappeared, and then signaled to his column of men still waiting on horseback. The grim-looking force of men advanced across the hard ground, raising a lazy fog of dust.

  "We have to go down there," Sebastian said as he gestured toward the valley that held the Pillars of Creation. "Wait up here until we get back."

  The officer at the head of the column folded his wrists across the horn of his saddle. "What do you want us to do about that?" he asked. His greasy strings of hair fell forward over his shoulder as he pointed with his chin toward the yet distant rider.

  Sebastian turned and watched the far-off horse galloping toward them. "If he turns out to be suspicious for any reason at all, kill him. This is too important to risk trouble, now."

  The officer gave Sebastian a single nod. Jennsen could see in the hun-

  gry eyes and humorless grins of the men behind him that they were pleased by the orders.

  "Let's go," Sebastian said. "I want to catch up with Sister Perdita before she gets too far ahead of us."

  "Don't worry," Jennsen said, "I want Lord Rahl more than Sister Perdita does."

  CHAPTER 58

  The heat had been withering up on the barren plain, but venturing down the trail felt like descending into a blast furnace. Every breath drew the torrid air into her lungs, making Jennsen feel as if she were being cooked from the inside, too. The air rising before the steep walls wavered like heat shimmering above a fire.

  There were places where the trail simply vanished crossing loose rock, or perhaps went under it. In other places, a depression had been worn into the soft sandstone to show the way. In some places, the track went along natural pathways, so it was largely self-evident, with little choice to make a mistake. Occasionally, they had to cross slides of scree that had buried any trace of a trail, and hope they could pick it up farther along. Jermsen knew enough about trails to know that this one was ancient and unused.

  Although nothing could make the scorching heat any less, the black garments that the traders had given them were at least an improvement. The black cloth around her eyes cut the painful glare, absorbing the bright light, making it easier to see. It was a relief to have the dark cloth shading her face. Instead of making her hotter, as she thought, the thin cloth covering the exposed skin of her arms and neck stopped the sun from burning her, and somehow seemed to keep some of the heat out.

  As she and Sebastian hurried to follow the trail ever downward, she soon found, to her dismay, that it led them up, again, over one of the

  fingers of ridges that extended down into the valley. The rocky ground was so rugged that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to simply go right down, so the trail cut across the ridges so it wouldn't drop so precipitously. The trade-off was that it made it necessary to descend the back side of one ridge only to have to climb the face of the next. They had no choice but to follow it as it made a harrowing descent, then rose again. The strain on the muscles of her thighs and shins was fatiguing, but then to have to climb up again in such heat was agonizing.

 
Jennsen remembered well that Sebastian had once told her that no one ever risked going into the valley that held the Pillars of Creation. She could see why. By the unused nature of the trail, she knew that it was true-at least in this one place. She recalled, too, that he'd said that if anyone did go into the central valley, they had never returned to talk about it. She guessed that she didn't have to worry about that.

  As they went lower, yawning fissures and deep cuts opened in the craggy terrain, giving rise to rock walls that stood alone, as if cast off and abandoned. As they moved along the edges of vast cliffs, some of the spires made up of those splits rose up from below almost to their height at the valley rim. Looking down on such soaring towers of rock was dizzying. There were places where she and Sebastian were forced to make leaps across deep clefts. To see in places where they were going to have to follow the trail below was heart-stopping.

  Sister Perdita stood at the top of one of the prominent ridges along the trail's tortuous descent, waiting for them, watching them with silent displeasure set enduringly in the lines of her implacable face. The growing shadows cast across the landscape added a strange new dimension to the place. The lowering sun highlighted the rugged features in a way that only helped to make clear how formidable the land truly was. Sebastian put a hand to Jennsen's back and hurried her along an open, level place in the trail as they moved in among the eerie rock columns that stood like imposing dead trunks of tree that had lost their crowns and all their limbs.

  Ever since they'd left the traders, something had felt wrong to Jennsen, but as Sebastian spurred her along, she couldn't bring to mind precisely what it that was bothering her. Sister Perdita scowled as she waited.

  Jennsen checked that her knife was still there, as she had done countless times before. She sometimes simply brushed her fingertips across the silver handle. This time, she lifted it to make sure it was clear in its sheath, then pressed it back down until it seated with the reassuring metallic click.