Sister Ulicia backed away, the smoldering anger in her eyes was frightening. Even though the woman backed away, she pointed at the center of Kahlan’s chest with one finger and Kahlan was slammed hard against the marble and pinned to the wall with a force that felt as massive as a bull leaning against her. It was a struggle to draw each breath against the crushing pressure. It was a struggle to see through the blood running into her eyes.
“You should have rolled the other two boxes in your bedroll, then you would have them all right now. Isn’t that right?”
Kahlan hadn’t considered doing that because it wasn’t an option.
“But Sister, I have something else rolled in the bedroll.”
Sister Ulicia leaned in again. Kahlan feared that she was now going to be made to wish she was dead, or fear that she was about to be. She wasn’t at all sure which fate would be worse. She felt the pain come on within her head to match the pain on the outside from the blow. Pinned against the wall, Kahlan couldn’t fall to the ground, cover her ears, and scream, or she would have.
“I don’t care what trifle you have rolled up in your bedroll. You should have left it out. The boxes are more important.”
Kahlan could only stare, unable to move because of the force keeping her flattened to the wall, and unable to talk because of the force of pain crushing her mind. It felt like ice picks were being slowly shoved and twisted into her ears. Her ankles and wrists twitched involuntarily. She gasped with each throbbing wave of agony wrenching through her head, trying, but unable to squirm away from the piercing pain.
“Now,” Sister Ulicia said in a low, menacing voice that carried deadly threat, “do you think you can do that? Do you think you can go back up there and roll the other two boxes in your bedroll and bring them back to me like you should have done in the first place?”
Kahlan tried to talk, but couldn’t. She nodded instead, desperate to agree, desperate for the pain to stop. She could feel the blood running from her ear and the side of her head soaking the collar of her shirt. She was on her tiptoes, pressed back, wishing she could melt through the wall in order to get away from Sister Ulicia. The pain wouldn’t let up enough for her to catch a breath.
“Do you remember seeing some of the hundreds and hundreds of big, lonely soldiers quartered down in the lower reaches of this place as we were coming up?” Sister Ulicia asked.
Kahlan nodded again.
“Well, if you fail me again, then, when I’m done breaking every bone in your body and making you suffer the agony of a thousand deaths, I’m then going to heal you enough so that I can sell you to those soldiers down there to be their barracks whore. That will be where you spend the rest of your life, being passed from one stranger to another with no one to care what happens to you.”
Kahlan knew that Sister Ulicia never made empty threats. The Sister was absolutely ruthless. Kahlan averted her eyes as she sucked back a sob, unable to stand the Sister’s scrutiny any longer.
Sister Ulicia seized Kahlan’s jaw and turned her face back. “Are you certain that you understand the price should you fail me again?”
Kahlan, her chin held firm, managed to nod.
She felt the pressure pinning her to the wall suddenly release. She collapsed to her knees, gasping with the waves of searing pain all along the left side of her face. She didn’t know if any bones were broken, but it certainly felt like it.
“What’s going on here?” A soldier asked.
Sisters Ulicia and Tovi turned and smiled at the man. He glanced down at Kahlan, frowning. She stared up pleadingly at him, hoping to be rescued from these monsters. The man looked up, his mouth open, about to say something to the Sisters, but then he never did. He looked from Sister Ulicia’s smile to Tovi’s, and smiled himself.
“Is everything all right, ladies?”
“Oh, yes,” Sister Tovi said with a jovial chuckle. “We were just about to have a rest on the bench, here. I was complaining about my backache, that’s all. We were both saying what a nuisance it is to get older.”
“I guess it is.” He bowed his head. “Good day, then, ladies.”
He walked off without ever acknowledging Kahlan’s existence. If he saw her, he forgot about her before he could say anything. Kahlan realized that it was the way she, too, seemed to forget things about herself.
“Get up,” the voice over her growled.
Kahlan struggled to her feet. Sister Ulicia jerked Kahlan’s pack around in front again. She flipped back the flap and dragged out the sinister black box wrapped in Kahlan’s satiny white dress.
She handed the bundle to Sister Tovi. “We’ve already been here too long. We’re starting to draw attention. Take this and get going.”
“But that’s mine!” Kahlan cried out as she grabbed for the dress.
Sister Ulicia backhanded her hard enough to make her teeth slam together. The blow knocked her sprawling. Lying on her side on the floor, Kahlan drew her legs up as she cradled her head in agony. Blood was smeared all over the marble. She shook as the pain bore down and would not let up.
“You want me to leave without you?” Sister Tovi asked as she tucked the box wrapped in the white dress under her arm.
“I think it would be best. It will be safest if we get this box on its way while this worthless bitch goes back to get the others. If it takes as long as the first one, I’d just as soon not have us both standing around here in the hall waiting for soldiers to decide to have a look. We don’t need a battle; we need to slip away without a trace.”
“If we were questioned it wouldn’t do to have them find we had one of the boxes of Orden,” Sister Tovi agreed. “I should just start out, then, and wait for you somewhere? Or keep going until I reach our destination?”
“You’d best not stop for now.” Sister Ulicia motioned Kahlan to her feet as she spoke to Sister Tovi. “Sisters Cecilia, Armina, and I will meet back up with you once we get to where we’re going.”
Sister Tovi leaned a little toward Kahlan as Kahlan staggered to her feet. “I guess that gives you a few days to think about what I’m going to do to you when the rest of you join up with me again, doesn’t it?”
Kahlan could manage only a whisper. “Yes, Sister.”
“Swift journey,” Sister Ulicia said.
After Sister Tovi had rushed off down the wall, taking Kahlan’s beautiful dress with her, Sister Ulicia seized a fistful of Kahlan’s hair and twisted her head close. The Sister’s fingers groped along the side of Kahlan’s face, making her cry out.
“You have broken bones,” she announced after her examination of Kahlan’s injuries. “Complete your mission and I will heal you. Fail, and it will only be the beginning.
“The other Sister and I have a number of other things we must do before our goals are accomplished. So do you. If you complete your task today you will be healed. We would like you to be healthy for those future duties”—Sister Ulicia patted Kahlan’s cheek in a patronizing manner—“but I can always make other arrangements should you fail in this one. Now, hurry up and get me the other two boxes.”
She had no choice, of course. As much pain as she was in, she knew that if she didn’t comply, and soon, then it was only going to be worse for her. Sister Ulicia had shown her that there was always more pain just waiting to be applied. Kahlan knew, too, that there was no escape from the Sisters.
Kahlan wished she could forget the pain like she seemed to have forgotten the rest of her life. It seemed that only the bad parts of her existence remained in the dark vaults of her memory.
With her breath catching on the ragged edge of tears from the throbbing hurt, she pulled her pack back around, slipped her arm through the strap, and hiked the whole thing up on her back.
“And you had better do as I said and bring them both,” Sister Ulicia growled.
Kahlan nodded and rushed off across the broad corridor. Everyone ignored her. It was as if she were invisible. The few people who did look her way only seemed to see her for a fleeting momen
t, before they, too, forgot that they had ever noticed her.
Kahlan grabbed the bronze skull in both hands and pulled open one of the snake doors. She raced across the plush carpets and was past the guards before they could think to wonder what they had seen. She dashed up the stairs, ignoring soldiers patrolling the halls, some of whom briefly turned her way, as if trying to hold the image of her in their memories, before losing their mental grip of her and going on about their duties. Kahlan felt like a ghost among the living; there, but not.
She grunted with the effort of pulling open one of the gold-clad doors enough to slip inside the garden. She was in so much pain that she could not rush fast enough. She just wanted to get back and have the Sister make the hurt stop. As before, the garden was as quiet as a sanctuary should be. She had no time to notice or enjoy the flowers and trees. She paused on the grass, staring at the two black boxes sitting on the stone slab, momentarily immobilized by the sight of them, and by the thought of what she had been told to do.
More slowly, she closed the rest of the distance, not wanting to ever get there, not wanting to ever have to do what she knew she must. But the agony of the twisting, throbbing pain all along the side of her head drove her on.
Standing before the slab, she finally slipped off her pack and set it down beside the boxes on its back, rather than its bottom. She wiped her runny nose on the back of her sleeve. Gently, she caressed the side of her face, fearing to touch it and make it hurt worse, but at the same time aching to comfort the throbbing pain. She almost fainted when she felt something jagged sticking out. She didn’t know if it was a splinter from Sister Ulicia’s broken oak rod, or if it was a splinter of bone. Either way, she felt light-headed and thought she might vomit.
Knowing she had little time, she crossed one arm across her stomach and with the other hand began untying the leather thongs holding her bedroll to the bottom of her pack. Her fingers were slick with blood, making the task of untying the knots more difficult. She finally had to resort to using both hands. When she at last had them undone, she carefully unfurled her bedroll and took out what lay inside, setting it on the stone slab so as to make room for the loathsome black boxes. She sucked in a sob, trying not to think of what she was leaving behind.
Kahlan forced herself to set to work wrapping the two remaining boxes in her bedroll. When she was finished, she laced up the thongs, securely fastening them to insure that the boxes would not fall out. At last finished, she swung the pack onto her back again and reluctantly started across the open area of bare ground in the center of the immense indoor garden.
As she crossed the ring of grass, she paused and turned, looking back through her watery vision at what she was leaving on the stone slab in place of the boxes.
It was the most precious thing she had.
And now she was leaving it behind.
Overwhelmed and unable to go on, feeling more hopeless and helpless than she could ever remember feeling, Kahlan sank to her knees in the grass.
She crumpled forward as she broke down sobbing. She hated her life. She hated living. The thing she loved most was being left behind because of those evil women.
Kahlan wept uncontrollably, gripping the shaggy grass in her fists. She didn’t want to leave it. But if she didn’t, Sister Ulicia would never let her get away with violating such a direct order. Kahlan sobbed at how sorry she felt for herself, for her helpless situation.
No one but the Sisters knew her, or even knew that she existed.
If only just one person would remember her.
If only the Lord Rahl would come to his garden and save her.
If only, if only, if only. What good was wishing?
She pushed herself up then and, sitting back on her heels, stared off through the tears at the granite slab, at what she had left standing there.
No one was going to save her.
She didn’t used to be this way. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she knew. Somewhere in her dim, vanished past, it seemed like she used to be able to depend on herself, on her own strength, to survive. She didn’t used to waste her time lamenting “If only.”
Staring across the garden, Lord Rahl’s beautiful, peaceful garden, she drew strength from what she saw standing there now, and, at the same time, from somewhere deep inside herself. She had to do that now—be resolute, as she was sure she used to be. She had to somehow be strong for herself, for her own sake.
Kahlan somehow had to save herself.
What stood there now was no longer hers. It would be her gift to Richard Rahl in exchange for the nobility of life—her life—that she had remembered in his garden.
“Master Rahl guide us,” she quoted from the devotion. “Thank you, Master Rahl, for guiding me this day, for guiding me back to what I mean to myself.”
She swiped the backs of her wrists across her eyes, wiping away the tears and blood. She had to be strong or the Sisters would defeat her. They would take everything from her. Then they would win.
Kahlan couldn’t let them do that.
She remembered then, and touched the necklace she wore. She turned the small stone between a finger and thumb. This, at least, was still hers. She still had the necklace.
Kahlan struggled to her feet and straightened under the weight of the pack. She first had to get back so that Sister Ulicia would at least heal the injury she had inflicted. Kahlan would willingly take that help because she would then be able to go on and find a way to succeed.
With a last look back, she finally turned and headed for the door.
She knew now that she couldn’t surrender her will to them, to their belief that they had a right to her life. They might defeat her, but it couldn’t be because she allowed it.
But even if she lost her life in the end, she knew now that they would not defeat her spirit.
Chapter 58
Richard slowly paced the small room, deep in thought, going over the memory of the morning Kahlan had disappeared. He had to figure it out, and soon—for more reasons than one. The most important of those reasons, of course, was to help Kahlan. He had to believe that he still could help her, that she was still alive and there was still time.
He was the only one who knew her, who believed in her existence. There was no one but him to help her.
There were also the implications of the wider concerns that her disappearance engendered. There was no telling how far-reaching those problems could turn out to be. In that, too, he was the only one opposing what hidden designs lurked behind events.
Since it seemed Kahlan had so far not been able to escape her captors, that meant she couldn’t and was going to need help. With the beast seemingly able to strike again at any time, Richard was painfully aware of how easily he could die at any moment, and if he did, then the one person who was her connection to the world would be gone.
He had to use every minute of what time he had available to work toward helping her. He couldn’t even bother wasting time reprimanding himself for all the days he had already let slip through his fingers.
It had all started that morning, not long before he’d been shot with the arrow, so he had decided to concentrate on that single event and to start anew. He had pushed the enormity of the problem from his mind in order to narrow his focus on the solution. He would never come to understand who had Kahlan by pulling out his hair and agonizing over the fact that someone had her, or by trying to convince others that she existed. None of that had accomplished anything, nor would it.
He had even set aside the books, Gegendrauss and Ordenic Theory, that he’d discovered in the little room. The first was in High D’Haran. It had been a long time since he had worked with the ancient language, so he knew he couldn’t afford to spend time on it. A brief examination had told him that the book might hold remarkable information, although he hadn’t spotted any that was material. Besides, he was out of practice translating High D’Haran. He didn’t have time to work on it until he first resolved other issues.
T
he second book was difficult to follow, especially with his mind elsewhere, but he had read just enough of the beginning to realize that the book was indeed about the boxes of Orden. Other than The Book of Counted Shadows, which he had memorized as a child, he didn’t recall ever seeing another book about the boxes of Orden. That alone, to say nothing of the profound danger of the boxes themselves, told him that the book was of immeasurable valuable. But the boxes were not his problem at the moment. Kahlan was the problem. He’d set that book aside as well.
There were also other books in the small, shielded room, but he had not had the time or inclination to search through them. He had decided that devoting himself to the books before he had a true understanding of what was going on would only waste yet more time. He had to approach the problem in a logical manner, not in random, frantic attempts to somehow pluck an answer out of thin air.
Whatever the cause of Kahlan’s disappearance, it had all started that morning just before the fight when he’d been shot with the arrow. When Richard had climbed into his bedroll the night before the battle, Kahlan had been with him. He knew she had. He remembered holding her in his arms. He remembered her kiss, her smile in the dark. He was not imagining it.
No one would believe him, but he was not dreaming up Kahlan.
He put that part of the problem aside as well. He couldn’t concern himself anymore with trying to convince others. Doing so was only diverting his attention from the real nature of the problem.
Nor could he afford to give in to fear that others might be right that he was only imagining her; that, too, was a dangerous distraction. He reminded himself of the very real evidence: the issue of her tracks.
Even if he couldn’t make others understand the lifetime of learning that went into understanding the meaning of what he saw when he looked at tracks, he knew for certain what the evidence on the ground had revealed to him. There was a language to tracks. Others may not understand that language, but Richard did. Kahlan’s tracks had been swept away, undoubtedly with magic, leaving behind a forest floor too artificially perfect and, more importantly, the rock that he’d discovered kicked out of place. That rock told him he was right. Told him that he was not imagining things.
Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1 tsot-9 Page 68