Zedd turned at a sound from above. Something was coming down the mountain. Water. The lake, for some reason, had given way. It was all coming down.
Zedd sprang up onto Spider. “Time to get out of here, girl.”
Spider obliged him.
Dalton had just come back into his office when he heard someone come in behind him. It was Stein. When the man turned to close the door, Dalton glanced to the bottom of Stein’s cape, and saw the scalp he had added.
Dalton went to the side table and poured himself a glass of water. He was feeling warm and a little dizzy.
Well, that was to be expected.
“What do you want, Stein?”
“Just a social visit.”
“Ah,” Dalton said. He took a drink.
“Nice new office you got yourself.”
It was nice. Everything was the best. The only thing from his old office was the silver-scroll stand beside the desk. He liked the sword stand, and brought it along. As if reminded, he fingered the hilt of his sword in the stand.
“Well,” Stein added, “you’ve earned it. No doubt about that. You’ve done good for yourself, though. Good for yourself and your wife.”
Dalton gestured. “New sword, Stein? A little too fancy for your taste, I would think.”
The man seemed pleased that Dalton had noticed the weapon.
“This here,” he said, lifting it with a thumb by the down swept cross guard a few inches out of its scabbard, “is the Sword of Truth. The real sword carried by the Seeker.”
Dalton found it unsettling that a man like Stein would have it. “And what are you doing with it?”
“One of my men brought it to me. Quite a lot of trouble, too.”
“Really?” Dalton asked, feigning interest.
“They captured a Mord-Sith in the process of bringing it to me. The real Sword of Truth, and a real Mord-Sith. Imagine that.”
“Quite the achievement. The emperor will be pleased.”
“He will be when I present him with the sword. He is pleased with the news you sent, too. To have defeated Lord Rahl so resoundingly is an achievement. It won’t be long until our forces are here, and we catch him. And the Mother Confessor, have you found her, yet?”
“No.” Dalton took another drink of water. “But with the spell Sister Penthea contributed, I don’t see how she has a chance. From the look of the knuckles of my men, they did their job.” He paused, looked down. “Up until they got caught and killed, anyway.
“No, this is one encounter the Mother Confessor is not going to live through. If she is still alive, I will hear about it soon enough. If she is dead”—he shrugged—“then we may never find her body.”
Dalton leaned against his desk. “When will Jagang be here?”
“Not long. Week, maybe. The advance guard maybe sooner. He is looking forward to setting up residence in your fine city.”
Dalton scratched his forehead. He had things to do. Not that any of it really mattered.
“Well, I’ll be around, if you need me,” Stein said.
He turned back from the door. “Oh, and Dalton, Bertrand told me that you were more than understanding about your wife and him.”
Dalton shrugged. “Why not? She is just a woman. I can snap my fingers and have a dozen. Hardly anything to get possessive about.”
Stein seemed genuinely pleased. “I’m glad to see you’ve come around. The Order will suit you. We don’t hold to notions of possessive attitudes toward women.”
Dalton was trying to think of places the Mother Confessor could have gone to ground.
“Well, I’ll love the Order, then. I don’t hold with those notions myself.”
Stein scratched his stubble. “I’m happy to know you feel that way, Dalton. Since you do, I’d like to compliment you on your choice of a whore for a wife.”
Dalton, turning to look over papers, stiffened. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Oh, Bertrand, he loans her to me now and then. He was bragging on her, and wanted me to have some myself. He told her the Creator wanted her to please me. I just wanted to tell you, she’s quite the hot one.”
Stein turned toward the door.
“There’s one more thing,” Dalton said.
“What’s that?” he asked, turning back.
Dalton brought the tip of his sword whistling around and sliced Stein’s belly open just below his weapons belt. He made the cut shallow, so as not to slice through everything, just deep enough so that his bowels would spill out at his feet in front of him.
Stein gasped in shock, his jaw dropping, his eyes showing the whites all around as he stared down. He looked up at Dalton as he was falling to his knees. The gasp turned to panting grunts.
“You know,” Dalton said, “as it turns out, I really am the possessive type. Thank the good spirits your end was quick.”
Stein collapsed on his side. Dalton stepped over him, around behind him.
“But just because it’s quick, I don’t want you to feel you’re missing out on anything, or that I’m neglecting what you have coming.”
Dalton grabbed Stein’s greasy hair in a fist. He sliced his sword around the top of Stein’s forehead, put a boot to the man’s back, and ripped his scalp off.
He came around and showed it to the shrieking man. “That was for Franca, by the way. Just so you know.”
As Stein lay on the floor, his viscera spilled out, his head bleeding profusely, Dalton casually walked to the door and opened it, pleased the new man hadn’t opened the door without permission despite all the screaming.
“Phil, you and Gregory get in here.”
“Yes, Minister Campbell?”
“Phil, Stein here is making a mess in my office. Please help him out.”
“Yes, Minister Campbell.”
“And I don’t want him ruining the carpets.” Dalton, as he picked up some papers from his desk, glanced down at the screaming man. “Take him over there and throw him out the window.”
70
Richard crashed through the front door. He saw people there, but he headed straight for Kahlan.
Jiaan seized his arm. “Richard, wait.”
“What? What is it? How is she?”
“She is still alive. She has made it past a critical time.”
Richard nearly collapsed with relief. He felt tears course down his face, but he kept himself together. He was so tired he had trouble doing the simplest things. He hadn’t been able to turn the knob to open the door, and had not been able to stop, either.
“I can heal her now. My power is back.”
Richard turned to the hall. Jiaan seized his arm again.
“I know. Du Chaillu has her power back, too. You must see her first.”
“I’ll see her later. I have to heal Kahlan before anything else.”
“No!” Jiaan shouted in Richard’s face.
It surprised him so that he halted. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Du Chaillu said she knows now why she came to you. Du Chaillu said we must not let you touch Kahlan until you see her first. She made me swear I would draw my sword on you before I let you near Kahlan.
“Please, Caharin, do not make me do that. I beg you.”
Richard took a breath and tried to calm himself. “All right. If it’s that important, then where is Du Chaillu?”
Jiaan lead Richard into the hall and to a door next to the room where Kahlan was. Richard took a long look at the door to Kahlan, but then followed Jiaan’s urging and went in the other door.
Du Chaillu was sitting in a chair holding a baby. She beamed up at Richard. He knelt before her and looked at the sleeping bundle in her arms.
“Du Chaillu,” he said in a whisper, “It’s beautiful.”
“You have a daughter, husband.”
With all the things in Richard’s head, arguing with Du Chaillu about the child’s parentage was the last of them.
“I have named her Cara, in honor of the one who saved our life.”
&
nbsp; Richard nodded. “Cara will be pleased, I’m sure.”
Du Chaillu put a hand on his shoulder. “Richard, are you all right? You look like you have been to the land of the dead.”
He smiled a little. “In a way, I have. Jiaan said your gift is back.”
She nodded. “Yes. And you must believe in it. My gift is to feel a spell and silence it.”
“Du Chaillu, I need to heal Kahlan.”
“No, you must not.”
Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. “Du Chaillu, I know you want to help, but that is crazy.”
She gripped his shirt in her fist. “Listen to me, Richard. I came to you for a reason. This is the reason, I know now. I came to save you the pain of losing Kahlan.
“She has magic in her that is a trap. If you touch her with your magic, to heal her, it will spring the magic and kill her. It was a way of making sure they killed her.”
Richard, trying to remain calm, licked his lips. “But you have the power to annul spells. When we first met, Sister Verna told me so. Du Chaillu, you can annul this spell and then I can heal her.”
Du Chaillu held his gaze in the grip of hers. “No. Listen to me. You are not listening to what is. You are hearing only what you wish to be. Listen to what is.
“This spell is the kind of magic I cannot touch with mine. I cannot make it fade away, like other magic. It is in her like a barb on a fishhook. Your magic that heals will trigger it, and you will kill her. Do you hear me, Richard? If you touch her with your magic you will kill her.”
Richard pressed a hand to his forehead. “Then what are we to do?”
“She is still alive. If she lived this long, she has a good chance. You must care for her. She must recover without magic. Once she is better, the spell will fade away, just like a hook in a fish dissolves. Before she is well, it will be gone, but she will be well enough by then so that your magic will not be needed.”
Richard nodded. “All right. Thank you, Du Chaillu. I mean that. Thank you for… for everything.”
She hugged him, even with the baby between them.
“But we have to get out of here. The Order is going to be here any time. We have to get out of Anderith.”
“The man, Edwin, he is a good man. He has fixed a wagon for you to take Kahlan away.”
“How is she? Is she awake.”
“In and out. We feed her a little, let her drink, give her what herbs and cures we can. Richard, she is very badly hurt, but she is alive. I think she will be well again, though. I really believe that.”
Du Chaillu got up, taking her new baby with her, and led Richard to the next room. Richard was exhausted, but his heart was hammering so hard he felt wide awake again. He felt so helpless, though, that he let Du Chaillu lead him.
The curtains were drawn, and the room was dimly lit. Kahlan was lying on her back, covered most of the way with blankets.
Richard looked down at the face he knew so well but didn’t recognize. The sight took his breath. He had to struggle to stay on his feet. He struggled, too, to hold back his tears.
She was unconscious. He gently took her limp hand in his, but there was no response.
Du Chaillu went around to the other side of the bed.
Richard gestured. Du Chaillu understood, and smiled at the idea. She gently laid little baby Cara in the crook of Kahlan’s arm. The baby, still asleep, nuzzled in Kahlan’s arm.
Kahlan stirred. Her hand partly curled around the baby, and a small smile came to her lips.
The smile was the first thing Richard recognized as Kahlan.
Outside, once they gently got Kahlan situated in the special carriage Edwin had converted, they brought it out of the carriage house, into the early-morning light. A man named Linscott, once a Director and still a friend of Edwin’s, had helped make the cover for the carriage, and alter the suspension so it would ride more gently. Linscott and Edwin were part of a group that had been resisting the corrupt rule in Anderith. Unsuccessfully, it turned out. Now, at Richard’s urging, they were going to leave. There weren’t many, but some people were going to escape.
At the side of the house, in the shade of a cherry tree, Dalton Campbell was waiting for them.
Richard instantly tensed, prepared for a battle. Dalton Campbell, though, didn’t look to have any fight in him.
“Lord Rahl, I came to see off you and the Mother Confessor.”
Richard glanced over at the baffled faces of some of the others. They seemed as surprised as Richard.
“And how did you know we were here?”
The man smiled. “It’s what I do, Lord Rahl. It’s my job to know things. At least, it was.”
Linscott was looking like he was about to go for the man’s throat. Edwin, too, looked ready for blood.
Dalton didn’t seem to care. Richard signaled with a tilt of his head, and Jiaan and Du Chaillu ushered everyone else back. With the rest of the blade masters nearby, none of them seemed too concerned about this one man.
“May I say, Lord Rahl, that in another time, another place, I think we could have been friends.”
“I don’t,” Richard said.
The man shrugged. “Maybe not.” He pulled a folded blanket from under his arm. “I brought this, in case you need another to keep your wife warm.”
Richard was confused by the man, and by what he wanted. Dalton placed the blanket off to the side in the carriage. Richard figured that Dalton could have caused a lot of trouble if he intended it, so that wasn’t what he was about.
“I just wanted to wish you good luck. I hope the Mother Confessor will be well, soon. The Midlands needs her. She is a fine woman. I’m sorry I tried to have her killed.”
“What did you say?”
He looked up into Richard’s eyes. “I’m the one who sent those men. If you get your magic back, Lord Rahl, please don’t try to heal her with it. A Sister of the Dark provided a spell to kill her with the dark side of the magic, if healing is tried on what was done to her. You must let her get better on her own.”
Richard thought he should be killing the man, but for some reason, he was just standing there, staring at him as he confessed.
“If you wish to kill me, please feel free. I don’t really care.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a wife who loves you. Cherish her.”
“And your wife?”
Dalton shrugged. “Ah well, I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it.”
Richard frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“There is a nasty illness going around among the prostitutes in Fairfield. Somehow, my wife, the Sovereign, his wife, and I have acquired it. We are already coming ill. Very unfortunate. It’s an unpleasant death, I’m told.
“The poor Sovereign is weeping and inconsolable. Considering it was the one thing he feared above all else, one would think he would have been more careful in choosing his partners.
“The Dominie Dirtch, too, I’ve heard, have crumbled to dust. All our work seems to be coming undone. I expect that Emperor Jagang, when he arrives, is going to be quite displeased.”
“We can hope,” Richard said.
Dalton smiled. “Well, I’ve things to do, unless, of course, you wish to kill me.”
Richard smiled at the man.
“A wise woman told me that the people are the willing accomplices of tyranny. They make those like you possible.
“I’m going to do the worst possible thing I could do to you and your people—what my grandfather would have done to you.
“I’m going to leave you all to suffer the consequences of your own actions.”
Ann was so cramped she feared she would be crippled for life, never to walk again. The box she was in was bouncing around in the wagon something awful as it rattled over cobblestones, adding to her misery. She felt as if someone had beaten her with a club.
If she wasn’t let out soon, she was sure she would go mad.
As if in answer to the prayer, the wagon
finally slowed, and then stopped. Ann sagged with blessed relief. She was near tears from the pain of hitting the sides and bottom, being unable to use her hands and feet to brace herself.
She heard the hasp being worked, and then the top opened, letting cool night air in. Ann took a thankful lungful, savoring it like a sweet perfume.
The front of the box dropped onto the bed of the wagon. Sister Alessandra was standing there, looking in. Ann peered around, but didn’t see anyone else. They were in a narrow side street that looked deserted, for the most part. One old woman walked past, but didn’t even glance their way.
Ann frowned. “Alessandra, what’s going on?”
Sister Alessandra folded her hands in a prayerful pose. “Prelate, please, I want to return to the Light.”
Ann blinked. “Where are we?”
“The city the emperor has been traveling to. It’s called Fairfield. I encouraged your driver to let me drive the wagon.”
“Encouraged him? How?”
“With a club.”
Ann’s eyebrows rose. “I see.”
“And then, I’m so bad with directions, we became separated from the rest of the line, and well, I guess now we’re lost.”
“How unfortunate for us.”
“I guess that leaves looking for some of Jagang’s troops and surrendering, or else returning to the Light.”
“Alessandra, are you serious?”
The woman looked ready to burst into tears. The banter was over. “Please, Prelate, help me?”
“Alessandra, you don’t need me. The path to the Light is through your own heart.”
Sister Alessandra knelt down behind the wagon as Ann still sat in her box, her hands and feet in chains.
“Please, dear Creator,” Alessandra began.
Ann listened as the woman poured her heart out. At the end, she kissed her ring finger. Ann held her breath, waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike Alessandra dead for betraying the Keeper of the underworld.
Nothing happened. Alessandra smiled up at Ann.
“Prelate, I can feel it. I can—”
Her words were cut off with a choking sound. Her eyes bulged.
Soul of the Fire Page 78