"What do you mean it wasn't Richard? It had to be Richard."
"Did it? Would Richard want to make love to Nicci?"
"Do you think Nicci is an honorable person?"
"There you go, then. Why must it be Richard? Nicci may have simply found some man she had to have-some handsome farmboy. It could be nothing more than that."
"You said it didn't seem like Richard. I mean, you were half asleep, and in . . . shock. You said he never. . ."
Cara smiled. "I think we'd best keep this between the two of us."
Kahlan realized then that Cara was wrapped in a blanket that was open in the front enough to reveal that she was naked underneath. There was a dark mark on the upper half of her breast. There were a few more, but faint. Kahlan had seen Cara naked, and didn't recall there being any such mark on her. In fact, except for her scars, her body was exasperatingly perfect.
Cara glanced down and then threw the blanket closed.
A love bruise-from a man's mouth.
Cara got to her bare feet. "Mother Confessor, you are still half asleep and having dreams. Go back to sleep."
She cupped her breasts. Her nipples throbbed and ached. As she moved on the bed a little, she winced as she only then began to realize how much she hurt, and where.
No. She had done nothing. She was only sensing something through her link to Nicci. It wasn't real. She hadn't really experienced it-Nicci had. But Kahlan suffered the same injuries.
Kahlan slipped her hand down between her legs. She flinched in pain as she touched herself. She brought her fingers up to the candlelight. They glistened with blood. There was a lot of blood.
She knew without doubt: Cara was right, it had not been Richard.
CHAPTER 52
It had been in her youth that she'd last come here, to the Healers of Redcliff. She'd promised herself she would never return She'd promised the healers as much, too. In the nearly thousand years since, she hoped they had forgotten.
The term "healers" was an odd and highly misleading designation for such a dangerous lot, yet it wasn't entirely without merit. The Healers of Redcliff weren't concerned with human ailments, but with the well-being of things that mattered to them. And very odd things indeed mattered to them. To tell the truth of it, after all this time, she would be surprised to find them still in existence.
"Visitooor. . ." hissed a teasing voice from the dim shadows in the crags of the cliff off behind the trees.
"Yes, I am a visitor. I'm glad to find you well."
That was what Ann had feared . . . what she had hoped.
"Tried," the voice said, moving through the trees. "Could not heal the chiiiimes away."
"Comes sheeee for a healings?" teased a voice from the depths of the jagged clefts to the other side.
"Costssss, you know."
She had tried everything else. Nothing had worked. She had no other choice, at
least none she could think of. She was no longer sure if it mattered to her what happened, if it mattered if she ever came out of the Redcliff Wood.
"Well?" she asked into the shadowy silence.
Eyes watched from that dark maw.
In resignation, Ann let out a sigh as she stepped off the trail, and into a place she had never forgotten, despite how much she had tried.
Usually, the camp was relatively quiet so as not to give any unwanted information to the enemy. Now, the noise of camp breaking up was jarring by contrast. The noise alone was enough to make her pulse race. If only that were all.
Horses nearby reared as they were being harnessed to a wagon. Men shouted and cursed as they struggled to get the team under control. The horses bellowed in protest. Other men ran through camp, leaping over fires and gear as they rushed to deliver messages. Men sprang out of the way as wagons sped along, splashing mud and water. A long column of lancers five men wide was already marching off into the threatening gloom. Their supporting archers were scrambling to fall in with them.
The mood in the room was tense.
"Just now," General Meiffert said. "They're taking their time striking camp. They're not organizing for an attack. They're simply forming up to move out."
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"They aren't coming after us?"
"Jagang doesn't need to come after us," Warren said. Kahlan thought he looked a little pale. Small wonder. She imagined they were all a little pale. "Jagang has to know we are going to come at him: He's not going to bother coming in here after us."
The emperor had changed his tactics-again. Kahlan had never seen a commander like him. Most military men had their preferred methods. If they had once won a battle in a certain way, they would suffer a dozen losses with the same tactics, thinking it had to work because it once had. Some were limited by their intellect. Those were easy enough to read; they usually waged an artless campaign, content to throw men into a meat grinder, hoping to clog it with sheer numbers. Some leaders were clever, inventing tactics as they went. Those often thought too much of themselves and ended up on the point of a simple pike. Others slavishly went about using textbook tactics, thinking of war as a kind of game, and that each side should oblige the other by following rules.
The D'Harans had still managed to carve him up. They had taken out Imperial Order troops in unprecedented numbers. Their own losses, while painful, were remarkably low considering what they had accomplished.
The winter alone had cost Jagang nearly three-quarters of a million men. It was almost beyond comprehension.
The men streaming up from the Old World had replaced the enemy losses several times over. Jagang's army was now well over two and a half million men. It grew by the day.
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Jagang had sat out the spring mud. His minions had used the time to spread the word about "Jagang the Just." Kahlan was infuriated when she got reports, weeks after the fact, about "envoys of peace" who had shown up in various cities throughout the Midlands, giving speeches about bringing the world together for the good of all mankind. They promised piece and prosperity, if they were welcomed into cities.
The door burst open. It was not the wind, but Rikka. The Mord-Sith looked like she hadn't slept in days.
Rikka stepped up to the table, opposite Kahlan, and tossed two Agiel down atop the map.
"I don't know, Mother Confessor. I found their heads impaled on pikes. Their Agiel were tied to the pikes."
"Galina and Solvig died as Mord-Sith would want to die."
"It could have been something else. If we can catch their gifted where the MordSith can get at them, then we might be able to take them out. It's worth the risk. Their gifted can cut down thousands of soldiers with a sweep of their hand."
"I still think-"
Rikka's blue eyes shifted to Cara. Cara stood as expressive as a stone. Rikka looked back at Kahlan and let out a long sigh.
"Fine. Now, go get yourself something to eat while you still have a chance. We need you to be strong."
"So," she said, removing the two Agiel from the map, "who has any suggestions?"
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"I agree," Verna said.
"Well, of course we have to worry about the size of the Order,;' Kahlan said. "They have enough men to split up and still be too huge to handle. That's what I'm talking about-what we're going to do when he splits. If I were him, that's what I'd do. He knows how it would complicate our lives."
Captain Zimmer stepped in, giving a quick salute of his fist to his heart. Panting as he entered, he brought with him a swirling rush of warm air that smelled like a horse. Ignoring the rest of them, Warren returned to his brooding at the window.
Most in the room sighed unhappily with the news.
Captain Zimmer nodded. "From the looks of it, he's sending maybe a third, possibly a little more, up the Callisidrin Valley toward Galea. The main force is heading to the northeast, probably to enter and go north up the Kern Valley."
Zedd made a fist. "There's no joy in being right, but that's just what Kahlan and I talked about. That was our guess."
No one wanted to broach the issue, so Kahlan settled the matter. "Galea is on its own. We're not sending any troops to help them."
"I'd have to agree." The general shifted his weight to his other foot. "We have no choice but to try to slow them. We'll have to keep giving ground, but at least we can slow them. Otherwise, they are going to move up through the center of the Midlands with the speed and power of a spring flood."
Warren looked up at the sound of his name, as if he hadn't been paying attention. Something about him didn't look well. He took a breath and straightened, his face brightening, making Kahlan think she had been mistaken. Hands clasped behind his back, Warren strode to the table.
Zedd cast a sidelong glance at his fellow wizard. "What else?"
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General Meiffert frowned. "Up there? Why?"
"Move through us?" General Meiffert asked in an surly manner.
The general let out an ill-tempered breath. "Then why do you think we should be at that spot-right in their way?"
Warren looked up into Kahlan's eyes. "The following summer, a year from now, Aydindril will fall. Prepare them for it in whatever way you are able, but make no mistake: the city will fall to the Order."
To contemplate the Imperial Order taking their attack into the heart of the Midlands was horrifying. To accept, as foreordained, the Imperial Order seizing the heart of the New World was unthinkable. Kahlan's mental image of Jagang and his bloodthirsty thugs strolling the halls of the Confessors' Palace sickened her.
Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. "I could hold the Keep by myself, if I had to."
Kahlan could feel the blood heating her face. "You're talking about this as if it's all settled-as if it has been decided by fate and there is nothing we can do about it. We can't win if we hold such a defeatist attitude."
"I lived in the Old World as it fell, bit by bit, to the Imperial Order. I've studied Jagang's methods. I know the man's patience. He methodically conquered the entire Old World when such a feat seemed inconceivable. He spent years building roads
just to be able to accomplish his plans. He never wavers from his goal. There are times when you can anger or humiliate him into a rash action, but he quickly comes to his senses.
"You must understand something important about Jagang. It's the most important thing I can tell you about the man: he believes with all his heart that what he is doing is right. He revels in the glory of conquest and victory, to be sure, but his deepest pleasure is being the one who has brought what he sees as righteousness to those he views as heathens. He believes that mankind can only advance, ethically, if they are all brought under the moral authority of the Order."
"You may think so, but he truly believes he is serving the cause of the greater good for mankind. He believes piously in this. It is a sacred moral truth to him and his ilk."
"He was raised at the feet of priests of the Fellowship of Order." Warren lifted a finger to make sure they all noted his point. "He believes that all those things and more are justified. He believes that only the next world matters, because then we will be in the eternal Light of the Creator. The Order believes that you earn that reward in the next world by sacrificing for your fellow man in this world. All those who refuse to see this-that would be us-must either be brought to follow the Order's ways, or die."
"Exactly."
"He basically has two choices, I believe. If he is to conquer the New World and bring all of mankind under the authority of the Order, he must take two important places, or he has not really succeeded: Aydindril, because it is the seat of power in the Midlands, and the People's Palace in D'Hara, because it reigns over the D'Haran people. If those two fall, everything else will crumble. He could have gone for either. Emperor Jagang has now made his choice of which falls first.
"I am not saying that it is preordained, but merely telling you the way the Order goes about its grisly work. This is the same thing Richard has already figured out. Given that we can't realistically expect to stop them, I think it only wise to face the reality of what is, don't you?"
"The Mother Confessor is right," Zedd insisted with quiet authority. "The last great war I fought, in my youth, seemed just as hopeless for a time. We prevailed, and drove the invaders back to the place from where they had come."
None of the D'Haran officers said anything. It was D'Hara that was that invader. "But things are different, now. That was a war pressed by an evil leader." Zedd met the gaze of General Meiffert, Captain Zimmer, and the other D'Haran officers. "Every side in a war has good people, just as they all have the bad. Richard, as the new Lord Rahl, has given those good people a chance to flourish.
"So," Kahlan said, gesturing at the map before Warren, "how do you think Jagang will press the war?"
"It will take them the summer to advance to this place I've shown you, given his usual pace and the fact that you will be harrying them. Jagang, in general, has always moved slowly, but with unstoppable force. He will simply pour in enough men to crush the opposition. He feels that if he takes time to get to his enemy, it only gives them more time to tremble in fear of him. When he finally arrives, his enemies are often ready to crumble from the agony of the wait.
The room was silent. The fire was cold, now. Warren and Verna had already packed their things and were ready to go, as was most of the rest of the army. Warren and Verna were losing their home. Kahlan glanced to the side, letting her gaze linger on the curtains she had long ago made for them. Their wedding seemed but a dim memory.
"Warren," Kahlan asked in a soft voice, "what then? What do you think will happen the following summer, after they have taken Aydindril?"
Kahlan finally directed her attention to Captain Zimmer.
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The captain grinned and clapped his fist to his heart.
"I intend to make the Order shed blood for every inch they take. If that is all I can do, then I will do it until I breathe my last breath."
CHAPTER 53
Distracted out of his concern over knowing Kahlan and Cara had to have long since left the safety of their mountain home, he noticed an unusual amount of activity for the middle of the night. Shadowy figures hurried down the dark streets to dart into dim buildings. Slashes of light briefly fell to the street until doors could be pulled shut. The moon was out, and in the darker alleys he thought he saw people watching him, waiting until he passed before they went on their way. Over the rumble of his wagon's wheels he couldn't hear anything they might be saying.
"What are you doing out here?" one of the voices asked from the side of the wagon.
"I have a special pass to move goods at night. It's for the emperor's palace."
The guard waggled his fingers. "If you have a special pass, then let's see it."
"Here you go." The guard handed the paper back to Richard. "Have you seen anything unusual as you have gone through the city?"
The guard grunted. "If you had seen anything, you wouldn't have to ask." He waved his hand. "On your way."
The man chuckled derisively. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. It's just some foolish people making trouble because they've nothing better to do."
"You have work to do for the palace. Get to it."
"Yes, sir." Richard clicked his tongue and flicked the reins. The heavy wagon lurched ahead.
Eventually he reached the edge of the city where it gave way to open fields. Richard took a deep breath of the agreeable aroma of freshly turned earth. Lights from occasional farms glimmered like lonely stars. In the moonlight Richard could finally see the rough skyline of forest. As he rolled into the charcoal maker's place, the charcoal maker, a nervous man named Faval, scurried up to the side of the wagon.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I just thought you might not come."
"Faval, I said I was coming. Why would you think I might not?"
Richard climbed down. "The city guards stopped me-"
"They wanted to know if I'd seen anything unusual."
"Well," Richard drawled, "I did see that fellow with the two heads."
"You saw a man with two heads?"
"It was? But it wasn't funny."
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Faval lived at the edge of a forest, so his source of wood was handy, but he wasn't allowed to cut the wood. All resources belonged to the Order. Trees were cut when the loggers, who had permits, needed work, not when someone needed wood. Most of the wood lay on the ground and rotted. Anyone caught picking up wood was liable to be arrested for stealing from the Order.
"I know, Faval. I told Priska that it wasn't your fault. He understands-he has troubles like that of his own. He's just desperate because he needs the charcoal. You know Priska; he gets hot at those who have nothing to do with the problem. I told him I would bring a load of charcoal tonight, and another two tomorrow night. Can I count on you for two more loads tomorrow?"
Faval clapped his hands together prayerfully. "Oh, thank you, Richard Cypher. You are a savior. Those loggers are a nasty lot. Yes, yes, and two tomorrow. I have them cooling now. You are as good as a ,son to me, Richard Cypher." He motioned off into the darkness as he tittered. "They are there, cooking. You will have them."
"Let me help you load your wagon," Faval said.
Faval put a finger to his lower lip as he laughed. It almost sounded like it was painful for him to laugh. He hesitated, but finally whispered his answer.
Richard had suspected as much. "What do you know about it, Faval?"
"Faval, it's me, Richard. I'm not going to turn you in."
"So, what about this revolt?"
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"Did you know that, Richard Cypher? That they confess to things they did not do? I never believed it myself I thought that if they confessed, then they were guilty. Why confess if you are innocent?" He giggled. "Why? I thought they were terrible people wanting to hurt the Order. I thought it served them right, and I was glad they were arrested and punished."
"My brother." Faval's chuckles suddenly were sobs. "He helped me make charcoal. We made it together. We supported our families making charcoal. We worked from sunup until sundown. We slept in the same house, there. That one there. One room. We were together all the time.
Richard waited in the darkness, sweat trickling down his neck, as Faval stared off into the dark visions.
"The guards said my brother finally confessed. High crimes, they called itplotting to overthrow the Order. They said he confessed it to them.
"They put my brother to death. His wife and children live with us, still. We can hardly. . ." Faval giggled as he bit down on his knuckle.
Faval wiped at his eyes. "Now I am guilty of thinking hateful thoughts. That is
of having a cart of my own just a cart-and my sons and nephew could deliver
buy. . ." His voice trailed off.
"I went to ask for a permit to buy a cart. They say I cannot have one because it would put the cart drivers out of work. They said I was greedy for wanting to put people out of work. They called me selfish for having such thoughts."
Faval chortled. "You sound like a revolutionary, Richard Cypher."
Richard sighed, thinking about how useless the whole thing was. "No, Faval."
"I have charcoal to deliver." Richard went around the back of the wagon and hoisted a basket up onto the wagon bed.
"Why?" Richard wondered if he dared get his hopes up. "What do they have planned? What are they going to do with this revolt?"
"What changes?"
"But what do they plan to do? How are they going to change anything if the Order says no?-Which they will."
Richard's hopes faded back into the shadows.
"Faval, you should not ask anyone else what you should do about something like this. How can you endanger your life, the lives of your family, on what a man with a wagon says?"
Richard tapped his finger against the man's forehead. "Faval, in here, in your head, you are smart enough to know what you must do. You have already told me why the Order can never help people have better lives by telling them how they must live. You figured that out all on your own. You, Faval the charcoal maker, are smarter than the Order."
"You're smart enough to decide for yourself how much it means to you and what you want to do about it."
Richard heaved another basket into the wagon. "Faval, listen to me. Revolt is the kind of thing you must be sure of. It's dangerous business. If you are going to join a revolt, you have to be sure enough of what you want to do to be ready to lay down your life for your freedom."
The spark of hope was gone.
Faval grinned. "All right, Richard Cypher. If you say so, I will stay here and make charcoal."
"Good. I'll be back tomorrow night. But Faval, if there is still trouble, I may not make it tomorrow night. If there is still marching going on and the streets and roads are blocked, I may not be able to make it out here."
Richard smiled. "Look, if they are having a revolt tomorrow, and I can't make it out here right away, here's the money for the next load." He handed the man another silver mark. "I don't want those loggers to stop getting wood for you. The foundries need charcoal."
Faval was only one of the charcoal makers with whom Richard dealt. He had a whole string of them he kept going so the foundries could have charcoal. They were all humble people just trying to get along in life. They did the best they could under the yoke of the Order.
By the time he made it to the foundry with the load of charcoal, Priska, the hulking foundry master, was pacing. His powerful hands grabbed the side of the wagon. He peered in.
"I had to wait for an hour after I came from Faval's while the city guards inspected the load."
"It's all right-calm down. They didn't take any. I have it all."
Richard ventured a dangerous question. "You're not involved with the . . . trouble, in the city, are you?"
"What change?"
Richard felt the spark of hope grow anew, but stronger this time-not so much for himself, his chains held him too tenaciously, but for the people who yearned to be free. Faval was a kind man, a hardworking man, but he was not the clever man, the resourceful man, that Priska was. Priska was a man who knew more than it would seem possible for him to know. Priska had given Richard the names of all the officials who could be bribed for papers, and advised him how much to offer.
"For us-for the people who want to be able to live our lives as we wish. The new beginning is starting. Tonight. In fact, it has already begun." He turned to his
building and pulled open the doors. "When you get to Victor's, you must wait for him, Richard. He must speak with you."
Priska waved dismissively. "Come, give me my charcoal and then load your steel. Victor will bite my head off if I keep you."
"What have these people who starting the revolt done? What are their plans?"
"Have they killed them, yet?"
Richard gaped at the man. "Loosen the rules? What are they demanding?"
This time, the spark of Richard's hopes didn't dim, rather, it plunged into icy waters.
The revolutionaries had it all figured out. They wanted public trials for those people the Order arrested. They wanted to be allowed to see prisoners. They wanted to have the Order give them a list of what had happened to a number of people who had been arrested, but never heard from. There were other details and demands but Richard's mind wandered to other things.
The two of them shared a long look. "Victor is waiting."
"That would be grand, Priska."
Victor was there, waiting for him. It was a little early, yet, for the man to be there; usually, he didn't arrive until closer to dawn. The blacksmith threw open the doors to his outer stockroom. He set a lantern on a shelf so Richard could see to back his wagon close.
"Come, Richard, unload your wagon, then we will have some lardo, and talk."
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Richard didn't mind being left alone. Summer this far south in the Old World was miserable. The humidity was oppressive, with the nights rarely better than the days.
By the time he had finished, the sky was tuning lighter. He found Victor in the far room, the doors open wide so that dawn's light lit Victor's marble monolith. The blacksmith was gazing at the beauty in his stone, at the statue still inside that only he saw.
"Richard, come have lardo with me."
Victor handed Richard a pure white slice of lardo. "Richard, the revolt I told you about has started. But you probably already know that."
Victor stared, dumbfounded. "But it has."
"It will be. You will see. Many men will be marching today." Victor gestured expansively. "Richard, we want you to lead us."
"I know, I know, you think the men don't know you, and they won't follow you, but you are wrong, Richard. Many do know you. More than you think. I have told many of them about you. Priska and others have spoken of you. You can do it, Richard."
"No."
"Because a lot of men are going to die."
Richard shook his head sadly to himself.
"Yes."
"Of course, Richard. Name it."
416
"But why? Don't you want things to get better? Do you wish to live like this all your life? Don't you want things to improve?"
"Kill them? Richard, why do you want to talk about killing? This is about life. About things being better."
"But they will want-"
"But if you were-to lead us, you could present our demands. That is why we want you to lead us-to prevent that kind of trouble. You know how to convince people. You know how to get things done-just look at how you help all the people in Altur'Rang: Faval, Priska, me, and all the others. We need you, Richard. We need you to give people a reason to follow the revolt."
Victor followed him to his wagon. In the distance, men were arriving to work on the emperor's palace. The blacksmith picked at the wood on the wagon's side, apparently wanting to say more.
"Richard Rahl, of the D'Haran Empire to the north, understands our passion for freedom, and would try."
"Victor, would you try to hammer cold steel into a tool?"
"So must men, Victor. These men are cold steel. Spare your hammer. I'm sure this Richard Rahl would tell you the same thing."
CHAPTER 54
The purge of the insurrectionists by the Order, on the other hand, lasted a week. Men who had participated in the marching had been slaughtered in the streets, or captured by the city guard. Those who were captured were questioned until they eventually confessed the names of others. People questioned by the Order always confessed.
Richard finally went back to work at the transport company, rather than risk having his wagon out at night. Jori had nothing to say as they rolled through the city, past the poles holding up rotting corpses buried in the sky.
On the way out, they went up the road past the blacksmith's shop. Richard
after the wagon made its way around the twists in the road. He said he had to report
"Richard! I'm glad to see you."
Victor grimly shook his head.
"Richard, I'm fine." He hung his head. "Thanks to your advice. I could be buried in the sky, now." He gestured toward the Retreat. "Did you see? Many of the carvers . . . all hanging from the poles down there."
Richard had seen the bodies, but hadn't realized it was many of the stone carvers. He knew how some had felt about the things they carved-how they hated to create scenes of death.
Victor gave a desolate shake of his head, too choked up to say it.
"Saw him yesterday." Victor took a purging breath. "He said you told him to stay home and make charcoal. I think he is going to rename one of his children after you."
Victor gestured with the bar he held in tongs. "His head man is going to carry on. Can you make a run for iron? I haven't had a supply since before the trouble. Brother Narev is in a foul mood; he wants some iron supports for the piers. He suggested that a blacksmith loyal to the Order and the Creator would get them made."
"I could really use it now, but I can make do until the day after tomorrow. I have some of these fussy chisels to make, for the detail work, and I'm short men, so it can wait that long."
The sun had set as Richard was walking up the street to his room with Nicci, but the twilight let him see his way well enough. He was thinking about Victor when half a dozen men stepped out from behind a building.
They weren't dressed like regular city guards, but that didn't mean a whole lot, lately. There were a number of special men, not in uniform, who, it was said, hunted down troublemakers.
He saw the men each had swords under their light capes. They each had a hand on a long knife at their belts.
--]--- When Nicci woke, Richard still wasn't home. She growled unhappily. She rolled onto her back and saw that light was coming in through the curtains. By the angle of the sunlight, it looked like it must be shortly past dawn.
She had warned him not to become involved in the recent uprising. She was pleased he didn't try to argue with her about it. If anything, he seemed opposed to them. It surprised her that he had even stayed home from work while the marches took place. He warned Kamil and Nabbi, in the strongest terms, to keep away from the insurrection.
Now that the rebellion had been crushed, and the authorities had arrested many of the troublemakers, it was safe again, so Richard had finally been able to return to work. The rebellion had been a shock. The Order needed to do more to make people understand their duty to help make the lives of those less fortunate more tolerable. Then there wouldn't be any trouble in the streets. To that end, many of the officials had been purged for not doing enough to further the cause of the Order. At least there was that much good out of it.
She pulled off her sweaty nightshirt and bathed herself as best she could with a wet washcloth. It felt refreshing. She hated to look sweaty and dirty in front of Richard.
He would likely be hungry. Maybe she would make him eggs. Richard liked eggs. She realized she was smiling. She had been angry when she first woke, and now, thinking about what Richard liked, she was smiling. She combed her fingers through her hair, already eagerly looking forward to seeing him walk in, to asking if he would like her to make him eggs. He would say yes, and she would have the pleasure of doing something she knew he wanted.
It had been several months since that awful night with Gadi. That had been a mistake. She knew that afterward. At first, she had enjoyed it, not because she wanted to have sex with that repulsive thug, but because she had been so humiliated by Richard refusing to make love to her that she wanted to get back at him. She had in the beginning of it reveled in what Gadi did to her, reveled in how he hurt her, because it was hurting Kahlan, too. Nicci enjoyed it only in the sense that it was punishment for what he had done to her. Nothing hurt Richard like hurting Kahlan.
But as Gadi went at her with wild abandon, doing his best to degrade Richard by what he did to her, Richard's words-"Nicci, please don't do this. You're only hurting yourself'-began to haunt her.
More, though, Nicci began to comprehend that Richard's words were not a plea to spare Kahlan pain, but to spare Nicci the pain. As much as he must hate her, Richard had expressed concern for her. As much as he must hate her, he didn't want to see her hurt.
Nothing else Richard could have said would have cut deeper into her heart. That kindness was the cruelest thing he could have done to her.
Richard said nothing; he only watched her with those gray eyes of his as he listened before leaving for work.
Gadi had bragged to his friends about having her. To her further humiliation, he revealed all the details. To Gadi's surprise, Kamil and Nabbi had been furious at him. They were intent on dripping hot wax in his eyes and doing some other things-what, Nicci wasn't sure, but could imagine. The threat was so deadly serious that Gadi had gone off and joined the Imperial Order army that very same day. He had joined just in time to leave with a new troop on their way north to the war. Gadi had sneered to Kamil and Nabbi that day, telling them that he was going off to be a hero.
Nicci stepped to the middle of the room. "Who is it?"
The urgency in his voice made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.
The young man burst in, panting. His face was white, as were his knuckles around the doorknob. Tears stained his cheeks.
Nicci was only dimly aware of the eggs hitting the floor.
CHAPTER 55
As they had left, Nicci was in a state of frantic shock, but she had noticed that the entire building of people seemed tense and alert. Faces peered from windows as she and Kamil had rushed out the building and down the road. People had come out of other buildings to watch her go. They all wore grim expressions.
What was it that made her care?
The room felt like a death watch.
Nicci cut right through the crowd, forcing her way to the short wall where cowering women pressed close, hoping to be called, hoping for word, hoping for the miracle of intercession by the Creator Himself. Pressing up against the rough boards, they received splinters, instead.
"May I ask, please, who is in charge?"
"There. At the table. People's Protector Muksin."
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Guards leaned down to speak into his ear while his dull gaze roamed, never settling. Others behind the table to either side of him were busily engaged in work at stacks of their own papers, or speaking among themselves, or dealing with the other stream of officials and guards that was ebbing and flowing through the room.
"Could I see him?" Nicci asked. "It's important."
Nicci and Kamil had no choice but to wait. Nicci knew enough about such petty officials to know better than to make a scene. They lived for the times when someone made a scene. She leaned her shoulder against the plastered wall dark with oily stains of countless other shoulders. Kamil took up station behind her.
"Kamil," she said in a low voice after several hours, "you don't need to wait with me. You can go home."
"I care about him, too. Why do you think I'm here?"
Nicci swiped a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead. "You don't like me, do you?"
"Might I ask why?"
"You are Richard's wife, yet you betrayed him. You took Gadi to your room. You are a whore."
"We don't know why a man like Richard would be with you. Every woman without a husband in the house, and the other houses nearby, told me she would be his wife and never lie with another man as long as she lived. They all say they don't understand why you would do that to Richard. Everyone was sad for him, but he would not listen to us tell him."
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From the corner of her eye, she saw Kamil shrug. "You are right. I don't understand. I don't understand how anyone could do such a hurtful thing to a husband like Richard, who works hard and takes such good care of you. To do such a thing, you must be a bad person who does not care about your husband."
He didn't answer. She turned to look at him. He was bouncing his shoulders gently against the wall. He was too ashamed of her, or angry at her, to look her in the eye.
He nodded, still not looking at her.
"I made a mistake," he said, and sounded as if he meant it.
She sniffled and dabbed her nose on a small handkerchief. Kamil watched her from the corner of his eye.
"You don't desire Gadi?"
"And you are sorry?"
"You are not going to get angry and do it again? With some other man?"
Kamil thought it over as he watched a woman shake a child by the arm. The child wouldn't stop crying, because it wanted to be picked up. She said something under her breath and the child leaned against her leg and pouted, but didn't cry anymore.
Nicci smiled through her tears and nodded.
"I'm sure I will not be the only woman to be sorry they ever met Gadi."
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The line moved fairly rapidly because the Protector tolerated no long conversations. At most, he would riffle through some of his papers before telling the supplicant something. What with all the wailing and weeping in the room, Nicci couldn't hear any of it.
Nicci tilted her head to signal Kamil to stand back and not make a scene. The guards each grabbed an arm and fairly carried her to the spot in front of the Protector. Nicci was indignant at being treated so roughly-like some common . . . citizen.
The two guards stood close at her shoulders, in case she caused any trouble. They must have seen it enough. She felt her face flushing at her treatment.
"Name." His dark-eyed gaze was skipping over the people remaining in line, no doubt measuring how far off dinner was.
He looked up sharply. "Full name."
Nicci didn't want to say the word "arrested," fearing to lend weight to a serious charge.
"Ah." Protector Muksin waved a paper. "You are lucky."
He looked up as if she were daft. "We have him. His name is on this paper. There are many places people are taken. The Protectors of the people can't be expected to know where they all are."
The man frowned. "How would we know the charges. He has not yet confessed."
"Please, Protector Muksin, my husband is no troublemaker. He never does anything but work. He never speaks ill of anyone. He is a good man. He always does as he is told."
"Has he a skill?"
She knew the answer was a mistake before she had completed it. The hand lifted,
flicked, dismissing her like a gnat. With a mighty jerk, the guards lifted her from her feet and whisked her from the important man's presence.
Her words were sincere, and much the same as those spoken by the women before her. She was furious that she could not convince him that she was different-that Richard was different. The others, she knew now, had all tried to do the same.
From her knees, she looked up to the doorway. "What about my husband?" she pressed.
Nicci knew he would never confess. He would die, first.
"Can I see him?" Nicci folded her hands prayerfully as she knelt beside Kamil. "Please, can I at least see him?"
"Have you any money?" he asked her.
They started to go back in.
When they paused, he ran up the steps. He lifted his pant leg and pulled off a boot. Upending it, a coin fell into his palm. Without reservation, he handed the silver coin to the guard.
Kamil seized the big man's wrist as he started to turn. "I have another at home. Please, let me go get it. I can run. I can be back in an hour."
Kamil waved his hand at Nicci. "His wife. She will visit him."
"Just be sure to bring the fee."
Kamil raced down the steps and seized her arm, his big eyes brimming with tears. "What are we going to do? That's two more days they will have him. Two more days!"
Nicci took a firm grip on the boy's arm and walked him away. "Kamil, listen to me. Richard is strong. He will be all right. He's been through a lot before. He's strong. You know he's strong?"
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That night, she slept only a few hours. She was in a state of restless anxiety, counting the minutes until the sun would come up. When it did, she sat at the table, clutching the loaf of bread she would take to Richard, waiting the eternity it took for the day to drag by. The neighbor lady, Mrs. Sha'Rim, brought Nicci a bowl of cabbage soup. She stood over Nicci, smiling sympathetically, while she waited to make sure Nicci ate the soup. Nicci thanked Mrs. Sha'Rim, and said the soup was delicious. She had no idea what the soup tasted like.
Kamil shot to his feet. "I have the silver mark."
"Thank you, Kamil. I will find the money to pay you back."
Nicci nodded. She knew she would rot before anyone came up with a penny for her, yet she had devoted her entire life to helping others. Her mother told her once that it was wrong to expect thanks, that she owed help to those people because she was able to give it.
They'd had Richard for days. Nicci didn't even know if he was still alive. The silent walk to the prison stronghold was terror. She feared to find he had been put to death, or to see him, and know he would die a lingering, suffering agony from his questioning. Nicci knew very well how the Order questioned people.
Nicci stared at the door as the sun slowly sank. In the gathering dusk, Kamil hung his waterskin on Nicci's shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered.
She wailed as she fell to the ground. Everyone else watched in horror, fearing the same fate. Another woman gave her name and was sent in. Another went in, then the next was told that her husband had died.
Nicci, in a daze, started up the stairs. Kamil grabbed her arm. He put a coin in her hand.
He nodded. "Tell Richard I said . . . Just tell him to come home."
He looked at the paper briefly, then waved her in. "That man will take you to him.
Inside the dark hall, another soldier waited. He tilted his head in command. "Follow me." He moved into the darkness, a lamp swinging from each hand. She stayed close behind as he descended two long flights of narrow stairs into the damp dark underground.
The Protector stood after briefly inspecting the paper the guard handed him. "You have the fee?"
He glanced at it before pocketing the silver. "Fines for civil violations are steep," he said cryptically as his dark eyes halted to measure her reaction.
Nicci spoke cautiously, fearing to make a mistake. "If I knew the fine, Protector, I believe I could raise the money."
He had named the price: everything. He had told her what Richard had to do. She wanted to tear out the man's fat throat.
He smiled a thin sweaty smile. "See that you do, young lady. Men left too long down here with their guilt end up confessing to the most terrible things."
The torture would not stop until the man had the price.
The sound of their feet splashing through ankle-deep water echoed back from the distance. Decomposing carcasses of huge rats bobbed on the waves caused by their passing footsteps. The place reminded Nicci of her childhood nightmares of the
underworld, a fate her mother had promised awaited all those who failed in their duty to their fellow man.
The guard stopped. "Here it is."
Nicci knew that men like this were necessary if the Order was to bring their teachings to all. You had to accept that the nature of mankind was perverted. There had to be sacrifices. Brutes were necessary to enforce morality on the masses. She stifled a yelp as he pinched her tender flesh.
"After I've seen to some other matters, I'll be back and your visit will be over." He chortled again. "Don't waste any time getting your skirts up for him-if he's in any condition for it."
The square room was so tiny she could have stretched her arms and touched the walls to each side at the same time. The ceiling brushed the top of her head. She was overwhelmed by the terrifying closeness of it. She wanted out.
"Richard?"
Tears stung her eyes. She sank to her knees. The slimy water that had sloshed into her boots now soaked up through her dress.
She pulled at his shoulder to turn him over. He cried out and shrank away from her hand.
"Oh, Richard."
"Richard, can you hear me? It's Nicci."
One eye was swollen shut. His hair was matted with mud and slime from the
water he lay in. His clothes were torn open. In the harsh light from the small lamp, she could see puffy red wounds crisscrossing his flesh.
She offered a feeble smile at his grim humor. Her fingers trembled as she wiped his face. She didn't know why she would react this way. She had seen worse than this.
"Am I hurting you?"
"Sorry. I have some water."
While he caught his breath, she said, "Kamil came up with the money for the fee to get me in to see you."
"Kamil wants you out of here."
"Richard, the Protector-"
"The official in charge of this, this prison. He told me that there is a way to get you out. He said you must plead guilty to a civil infraction, and pay a fine."
"You do? You've saved money?"
Nicci's fingers desperately gathered his collar into her fist. "Richard, I can't pay the fine to get you out for two more days. Can you hold on? Please, can you hold on until then?"
Nicci remembered then, and pulled the bread out of the sack. "I brought food. Bread, and some roasted chicken."
She tore at the chicken with her fingers. She held a piece up to his mouth for him. She couldn't stand to see Richard helpless. It angered her. It made her sick.
She watched him chew. "Can you sleep in this water?"
She pushed a long chunk of chicken in his mouth. She knew too many of the details of the Order's methods. She didn't want to know which technique they had chosen for him.
He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter.
Richard, that's not-"
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How many times had she lectured him with that same moral doctrine? How contemptuous, how venomous, how treacherous it sounded from his lips.
She was so close. So close to knowing what she needed to understand. The very fact that there were tears running down her face told her that there really was something that made the whole ordeal worthwhile-made it essential. The indefinable spark she had seen in his eyes from the first instant was real.
"Look around, Nicci. You wanted to show me the better way of the Order. Look around. Isn't it glorious?"
"Richard, I need the money you saved. If I'm to get you out of here, I'll need it all. The official told me it had to be all of what you had."
"Our room? Where? Tell me where."
"Ishaq? At the transport company? Why?"
She held more chicken up to his mouth. "All right. I'll go to Ishaq." She hesitated while she watched him chew. "I'm sorry that you have to give up what you've managed to save. I know how hard you work. It's not right for them to take it."