Kahlan watched as the buildings of Tanimura went past the window and tried to imagine Richard being here, seeing the same sights. It made her feel closer to him, seeing things his eyes had seen, and eased the terrible longing in her heart.
Dear Richard, please don’t come into this trap to save me. Let me die. Save the Midlands, instead.
Kahlan had seen a great many cities, every one in the Midlands, and this was the equal to most. On the outskirts, there were ramshackle huts, many no more than lean-tos erected against some of the older, shabby buildings and warehouses. As they moved on into the city, the buildings became more grand, and there were shops of every sort. They passed several large markets with jumbles of people in every bright color of dress.
Everywhere in the city was the constant beat of drums. It was a slow rhythm, and grating on the nerves. As Lunetta glanced around, her eyes searching out the men at drums when they became louder as they rode along, Kahlan could see that she didn’t like them either. Out the window, Kahlan could see Brogan riding close to the coach, and the drums were making him jumpy, too.
The three of them grabbed at the handles again as the coach bounced up onto a stone bridge. The iron wheels let out a grating racket as they crossed the stone. Through the window, Kahlan could see the palace looming overhead as they crossed the river.
In an expansive courtyard of green lawns fringed with trees near soaring sections of the palace, the coach rocked to a halt. The crimson-caped men all about sat tall in their saddles, making no move to dismount.
Brogan’s sour face suddenly appeared in the window. “Get out,” he growled. Kahlan started to rise. “Not you. I’m talking to Lunetta. You stay where you are until you’re told to move.” He knuckled his mustache. “Sooner or later, you’re mine. Then you pay for your filthy crimes.”
“The mriswith aren’t going to let their little lapdog have me,” Kahlan said. “The Creator won’t allow one such as you to put your filthy hands on me. You are nothing more than dirt under the Keeper’s fingernails, and the Creator knows it. He hates you.”
Kahlan felt the collar send a searing pain into her legs, preventing her from moving, and another shard into her throat, squelching her voice. Lunetta’s eyes were ablaze. But Kahlan had said what she had wanted to say.
If Brogan killed her, Richard wouldn’t come into this trap to rescue her.
Brogan’s eyes bulged and his face went as crimson as his cape. He ground his teeth. Suddenly, he reached into the coach for her. Lunetta seized his hand, pretending she thought it was meant for her.
“Help me down, my lord general? My hip do be aching from the bumpy ride. The Creator do be kind to give you such strength, my brother. Heed his words.”
Kahlan tried to call out, to taunt him, but her voice wouldn’t come. Lunetta was preventing her from talking.
Brogan seemed to come to his senses, and grudgingly helped Lunetta climb down. He was about to turn back to the coach when he saw someone approaching. She waved him away with an arrogant flip of her hand. Kahlan couldn’t hear what the woman said, but Brogan snatched up the reins to his horse and motioned his men to follow him.
Ahern was told to get down from the driver’s seat and to go with the men of the Blood. He cast her a quick, sympathetic glance over his shoulder. Kahlan prayed to the good spirits that they wouldn’t kill him, now that his coach had delivered its cargo. In a racket of sudden movement, the men on horseback all followed after Brogan and Lunetta.
The early-morning air quieted as the men moved off, and Kahlan felt the grip of the collar at her neck slacken. Again she remembered with anguish making Richard put one of these collars around his neck, and every day she thanked the good spirits that he had finally came to understand that she had done it to save his life, to keep his gift from killing him. But the collars she and Adie wore were not to help them, as Richard’s had been. These collars were no more than manacles in another form.
A young woman strode up to the door and peered in. She wore a clinging red dress that left little doubt as to the perfection of her figure. The long mass of hair that framed her face was as dark as her eyes. Kahlan suddenly felt like a clod of dirt in this stunningly sensuous woman’s presence.
The woman’s eyes took in Adie. “A sorceress. Well, perhaps we can find a use for you.” Her knowing gaze turned to Kahlan. “Come along.”
She turned without further word and started away. Kahlan felt a hot stab of pain in her back that propelled her out of the coach, stumbling to catch her balance when she landed on the ground. She turned just in time to put a hand out for Adie before she fell. The two of them rushed to catch up with the woman before she gave them another jab of pain.
Kahlan and Adie hurried along at the woman’s heels, Kahlan feeling like a bumbling fool the way the collar’s control made her legs twitch, shepherding her along, urging her to keep up, while the woman in the red dress strode along with the bearing of a queen. Adie was not prodded along as was Kahlan. Kahlan ground her teeth, wishing she could strangle the haughty woman.
There were other women, and a few men in robes, strolling along in the fine morning air. Seeing all the clean people was a keen reminded of the layers of road dust covering her. She hoped, though, that they wouldn’t let her have a bath; maybe Richard wouldn’t recognize her under all the dirt. Maybe he wouldn’t come for her.
Please, Richard, protect the Midlands. Stay there.
They walked on down roofed walkways that had vine-covered lattices to the sides holding fragrant white blossoms and then were led through a gate in a high wall. Guards’ eyes took in the sight, but they didn’t make any move to challenge the woman leading them. After crossing a shady path under spreading trees, they entered a large building that looked nothing like the rat-infested dungeon Kahtan had expected. It looked more a proper guest wing for visiting dignitaries to the palace.
The woman in the red dress slowed to a halt before a carved door set back in a massive stone casing. She flicked the lever on the door and threw it open, entering ahead of them. The room was elegant, with heavy drapes overlooking a drop of perhaps thirty feet. There were several chairs richly upholstered in gold brocade fabric, a mahogany table and desk, and a canopied bed.
The woman turned to Kahlan. “This is to be your room.” She displayed a brief smile. “We want you to be comfortable. You will be our guests until we are done with you.
“Try to go through the shield I leave on the door and window, and you will be on your hands and knees vomiting until your ribs feel as if they are breaking. That’s just for the first infraction. After the first, you will find you have no desire to attempt such a thing again. You don’t want to know about the second infraction.”
She lifted a finger to Adie, but kept her dark eyes on Kahlan. “Cause me any trouble, and I will punish your friend here. Even if you think you have strong stomach, I assure you, you will find otherwise. Do you understand?”
Kahlan nodded, afraid she wasn’t supposed to speak.
“I asked a question,” she said in a wickedly quiet tone. Adie crumpled to the floor with a cry. “You will answer me.”
“Yes! Yes, I understand! Don’t hurt her, please!”
When Kahlan turned to help Adie as she gasped for breath, the woman told her to leave the “old woman” to recover on her own.
Kahlan reluctantly straightened, letting Adie come to her feet. The woman’s critical gaze glided down the length of her and back up. The smirk on her face heated Kahlan’s blood.
“Do you know who I am?” the woman asked.
“No.”
An eyebrow arched. “Well, well, that naughty boy. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Richard didn’t mention me to his future wife, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“I am Merissa. Now do you know who I am?”
“No.”
She let out a soft laugh, as annoyingly elegant as the rest of her. “Oh, he’s so naughty, keeping such lascivious secrets from his fut
ure wife.”
Kahlan wished she could keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t. “What secrets?”
Merissa shrugged indifferently. “When Richard was a student here, I was one of his teachers. I spent great deal of time with him.” The smirk returned. “Many a night, we spent in each other’s arms. I taught him many things. Such a strong and attentive lover. If you’ve ever lain with him, then you would be the beneficiary of my more . . . tender instruction.”
Merissa’s soft lilting laugh returned as she strode from the room, giving Kahlan one last smiling look before she shut the door.
Kahlan stood clenching her fists so hard her nails were cutting her palms. She wanted to scream. When Richard had been taken away to the Palace of the Prophets, it had been in a collar she had made him put on. He thought it was because she didn’t love him. He thought she had sent him away and never wanted to see him again.
How could he resist a woman as beautiful as Merissa? He would have had no reason to.
Adie gripped her shirt at the shoulder and pulled her around. “Don’t you listen to her.”
Kahlan felt her eyes filling with tears. “But . . .”
“Richard loves you. She only be tormenting you. She be a cruel woman, and be enjoying to make you suffer.” Adie lifted a finger as she quoted an old proverb. “Never let a beautiful woman pick your path for you when there be a man in her line of sight. Merissa has Richard in her line of sight. I have seen that look of lust before. It not be a lust to have your man. It be a lust for his blood.”
“But . . .”
Adie shook the finger. “Don’t you lose your faith in Richard because of her. That be what she wants. Richard loves you.”
“And I will be the death of him.”
With a sob of agony, Kahlan fell into Adie’s arms.
Chapter 46
Richard rubbed his eyes. He wished he could read faster, because the journal was becoming so engrossing, but it still took time. He had to think about many of the words, and he still had to search for the meaning for a few, but as the days passed he was getting to the point where at times it didn’t seem as if he was translating, but simply reading. Whenever he realized he was reading High D’Haran without conscious effort, he would begin stumbling over the meaning of words again.
Richard was intrigued by the intermittent references to Alric Rahl. It seemed that this ancestor of his had devised a solution to the problem of the dream walkers. He was only one of many working on a way to prevent the dream walkers from taking people’s minds, but he had been particularly insistent that he had the solution.
Spellbound, Richard read how Alric Rahl had sent word from D’Hara that he had already woven this protective web over his people, and in order for the others to be protected by the same web, they had to pledge undying fidelity to him, and they, too, would be safe under this bond. Richard realized that this was the origin of the D’Harans’ bond to him. Alric Rahl had created this spell to protect his people from the dream walkers, not to enslave them. Richard felt pride in his ancestor’s benevolent act.
He was hardly able to breathe as he read the journal, hoping against hope that they would believe Alric Rahl, even though he knew that they hadn’t. Kolo had been cautiously interested in proof, but remained dubious. He reported that most of the other wizards thought Alric was up to some kind of trick, insisting that the only thing a Rahl was interested in was ruling the world. Richard groaned with disappointment when he read how they had sent a message refusing to swear fidelity and bind themselves to Alric.
Annoyed by a persistent sound, Richard turned to look out the window and saw that it was black as pitch outside. He hadn’t even realized the sun had set. The candle he seemingly had just lit was half gone. The annoying noise was water dripping from icicles. Spring was taking the bite out of the weather.
Taking his mind off the journal brought back the pang of frantic worry about Kahlan. Every day messengers returned to give reports of nothing found. How could she have vanished?
“Any messengers waiting to see me?”
With a chafed expression, Cara shifted her weight. “Yes,” she mocked, “there are several out there, but I told them that you were too busy sweet-talking me to be bothered right now.”
Richard sighed. “I’m sorry, Cara. I know you’ll tell me if a messenger arrive.” He shook a finger at her. “Even if I’m asleep.”
She smiled. “Even if you’re asleep.”
Richard looked around the room and frowned. “What happened to Berdine?”
Cara rolled her eyes. “She told you hours ago that she was going to go get some sleep before her watch. You said ‘Yes, good night’ to her.”
Richard looked back to the journal. “Yes, I guess I did.”
He read again a section about how the wizards were becoming fearful that the sliph would bring something through that they wouldn’t be able to stop. The war was a frightening mystery to Richard. Each side created things of magic, mostly creatures designed for one purpose, such as the dream walkers, and the other side had to react with a counter to it, if they could. It was appalling to discover that some of these creatures were created out of people—out of wizards themselves. They were that desperate.
Day by day, they became more and more concerned that before the towers could be completed, the sliph—which in itself was created of their magic to allow them to move great distances to attack the enemy and turned out to be a great danger as well as a benefit—would bring something unexpected that they couldn’t handle. They said that when the towers were competed, the sliph could go to sleep. Richard wondered constantly what the sliph was and how it could go to “sleep,” and how they would wake it later, after the war, as they said they hoped to do.
The wizards decided that because of the danger of attack through the sliph, some of the more important, valuable, or more dangerous things, had to be moved from the Keep for protection. The last of the items deemed most in need of safekeeping had long ago been taken to this haven, and then Kolo said:
Today, one of our most coveted desires, possible only through the brilliant, tireless work of a team of near to one hundred, has been accomplished. The items most feared lost, should we be overrun, have been protected. A cheer went up from all in the Keep when we received word today that we were successful. Some thought it was not be possible, but to the astonishment of all, it is done: the Temple of the Winds is gone.
Gone? What was the Temple of the Winds, and where did it go? Kolo’s journal didn’t provide an explanation.
Richard scratched the back of his neck as he yawned. He could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. There was so much more to read, but he needed sleep. He wanted Kahlan back so he could protect her from the dream walker. He wanted to see Zedd so he could tell him about the things he had learned.
Richard rose and shuffled toward the door.
“Going off to bed to dream about me?” Cara asked.
Richard smiled. “Always do. Wake me if—”
“If a messenger comes. Yes, yes, I think you’ve mentioned it.”
Richard nodded and started for the door. Cara caught his arm.
“Lord Rahl, they will find her. She will be safe. Rest well; D’Harans are looking, and they will not fail.”
Richard patted her shoulder as he left. “I'll leave the journal here, so when Berdine wakes she can work on it.”
He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he went to his room, not far down the hall. He only bothered to pull off his boots and slip the baldric over his head, placing the Sword of Truth on a chair before he fell into the bed. Despite his worry about Kahlan, he was asleep in seconds.
He was having a troubling dream about her when a loud knock woke him. He rolled over onto his back. The door burst open and there was sudden light. He could see Cara carrying a lamp. She moved to the side of his bed, lighting another lamp.
“Lord Rahl, wake up. Wake up.”
“I’m awake.” He sat up. “What is it? How long have I been asl
eep?”
“Maybe four hours. Berdine has been working on the book for a couple of hours, and got all excited about something and wanted to wake you to help her, but I wouldn’t let her.”
“Then why did you wake me now? Is it a messenger?”
“Yes. A messenger is here.”
Richard almost flopped back into bed. Messengers never brough any news.
“Lord Rahl, get up. The messenger has news.”
Richard came awake as if a bell had rung in his head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled his boots one in one big rush. “Where is he?”
“They’re bringing him.”
Just then, Ulic rushed in, helping a man he had with him. The soldier looked as if he had been riding hard for weeks. He could hardly stand on his own.
“Lord Rahl, I bring a message.” Richard gestured for the young soldier to sit on the edge of the bed, but he waved off the offer, wanting to talk instead. “We found something. General Reibisch told me to tell you first not to be frightened. We didn’t find her body, so she must still be alive.”
“What did you find!” Richard realized he was shaking.
The man reached under the leather of his uniform and pulled something out. Richard snatched it up and let it unfold so he could see it. It was a crimson cape.
“We found the site of a battle. There were dead men wearing these capes. Lots of dead men. Maybe a hundred.” He pulled out something else and handed it over.
Richard unfolded it. It was a roughly cut piece of faded blue cloth with four gold tassels along one edge.
“Lunetta,” he breathed. “This is Lunetta’s.”
“General Reibisch said to tell you that there was a battle. There were many dead Blood of the Fold. There were trees that were blown down by a blast of fire, as if magic had been used in the battle. There were burned bodies, too.
“They found only one body that was not Blood of the Fold. He was a D’Haran. A big man with only one eye, with a scar over where the other was sewn shut.”
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