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terrified, cruel, mindless, wicked, greedy, corrupt, and sinful. He was depicted forever torn between otherworldly forces controlling every aspect of his miserable existence, an existence incomprehensible in its caldron of churning evil, with death his only escape into salvation.

Those who had found virtue in this world, under the protection of the Creator's Light, looked lifeless, their faces without emotion, without awareness, their bodies as unbending as cadavers. They stared out at the world through a vacant, mindless stupor, while all around them danced rats, through their legs wriggled snakes, and over their heads flew vultures.

In the vortex of this torrent of tortured life, this cataclysm of corruption, this depravity and debauchery, rose up Richard's statue in bold, glowing opposition.

It was a devastating indictment of all around it.

The mass and weight of the ugliness surrounding Richard's statue seemed to shrink back into insignificance. The evil of the wall carvings seemed now to be crying out at their own dishonesty in the face of incorruptible beauty and truth.

The two figures in the center posed in a state of harmonious balance. The man's body displayed a proud masculinity. Though the woman was clothed, there was no doubt as to her femininity. They both reflected a love of the human form as sensuous, noble, and pure. The evil all around seemed as if it was recoiling in terror of that noble purity.

More than that, though, Richard's statue existed without conflict; the figures showed awareness, rationality, and purpose. This was a manifestation of human power, ability, intent. This was life lived for its own sake. This was mankind standing proudly of his own free will.

This was exactly what the single word at the bottom named it:

LIFE

That it existed was proof of the validity of the concept.

This was life as it should be lived-proud, reasoned, and a slave to no other man. This was the rightful exaltation of the individual, the nobility of the human spirit.

Everything on the walls all around offered death as its answer.

This offered life.

Victor and Ishaq were on their knees, weeping.

The blacksmith lifted his arms up toward the statue before him, laughing as tears ran down his face.

"He did it. He has done as he said he would. Flesh in stone. Nobility. Beauty."

People who had come to see the other carvings, now began gathering to see what stood in the center of the plaza. They stared with wide eyes, many seeing for the first time the concept of man as virtuous in his own right. The statement was so powerful that it alone invalidated everything up on the walls. That it had been carved by man underscored its veracity.

Many of them saw it with the same understanding Nicci had.

The carvers wandered away from their work to come see what stood in the plaza. The masons came down from the scaffolding. The tenders set down their mortar buckets. The carpenters climbed down from their work at setting beams. The tilers laid aside their chisels. The drivers picketed their horses. Men digging and planting the surrounding grounds set down their shovels. They came from all directions toward the statue in the plaza.

People flowed up the steps in ever expanding ranks. They flooded around the statue, gazing in awe. Many fell to their knees weeping, not in misery as they had

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before, but with joy. Many, like the blacksmith, laughed, as tears of delight ran down their happy faces. A few covered their eyes in fear.

As people took it in, they began to run off to get others. Soon, men were coming down from the shops on the hill to see what stood in the plaza. Men and women who had come to watch the construction now ran off home to get loved ones, to bring them to see what stood at the emperor's palace.

It was something the like of which most of these people had never in their lives seen.

It was vision to the blind.

It was water to the thirsty.

It was life to the dying.

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CHAPTER 66

Kahlan pulled her map out and took a quick look. It was hard to tell for sure. She glanced up and down the road and noted that the other buildings were not quite as well kept.

"What do you think?" Cara asked in a low voice.

Kahlan slipped the map back inside her mantle. She snugged the fur up over her shoulders a little, making sure it covered the hilt of Richard's sword she wore strapped behind her shoulder. Her own sword was hidden under her cloak. At least the sun had just gone down.

"I don't know. We don't have much light left. I guess there's only one way to be sure."

Cara eyed the people who looked their way. For the most part, everyone in the city seemed remarkably incurious. With their horses stabled outside of the city, there would not be any swift escape if they needed to get away. The general indifference of people, though, somewhat eased Kahlan's concern.

They had decided to simply be as aloof and casual as possible. She had thought they looked pretty simple in their traveling clothes, but in a place as drab as Altur'Rang, the two of them had a hard time being inconspicuous. In retrospect, she wished they would have had the time to find something shabby to wear. Kahlan felt they were about as inconspicuous as a pair of painted whores at a country farm fair.

She climbed the stairs to the place as if she knew where she was going and belonged there. Inside, the hallway was clean. It had the smell of freshly scrubbed wood floors. With Cara close at her heels, Kahlan moved down to the first door on the right. She could see the stairway farther down the hall. If this was the correct building, this would be the proper door.

Looking both ways, Kahlan gently rapped on the door. No answer came. She knocked again, a little louder. She tried the knob, but it was locked. After checking the hall again, she pulled a knife from her belt and worked it under the molding, springing it out until the door popped open. She grabbed Cara's sleeve and pulled the woman in with her.

Inside, they both struck a pose prepared to fight. There was no one in the room. In the light coming in from two windows, Kahlan saw first that there were two sleeping pallets. What she saw next was Richard's pack.

Kneeling on the floor in the far corner, she flipped back the flap and saw his things inside-his war wizard's clothes were in the bottom. Near tears, she clutched the pack to her chest.

It had been over a year since she had seen him. For almost half the time she had known him, he had been gone from her. It seemed she could not endure another moment.

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Kahlan heard a sudden noise. Cara seized the wrist of a young man as he charged in brandishing a knife. In one fluid motion she had his arm twisted behind his back.

Kahlan thrust her hand into the air. "Cara! No."

Cara made a sour face as she lowered her Agiel from the young man's throat. His eyes were wide with both fear, and indignation.

"Thieves! You're thieves! That's not yours! Put it back!"

Kahlan rushed to the youth, motioning for him to keep his voice down.

"Is your name Kamil, or Nabbi?"

The young man blinked in surprise. He licked his lips as he glanced over his shoulder at the woman towering above him.

"I'm Kamil. Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"I'm a friend. Gadi told me-"

"Then you're no friend!"

Before he could scream for help, Cara clamped a hand over his mouth.

Kahlan shushed him. "Gadi murdered a friend of ours. After we captured him, Gadi told me your name."

When she saw that he was taken aback by the news, Kahlan signaled for Cara to lower her hand.

"Gadi killed someone?"

"That's right," Cara said.

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. "What did you do to him? To Gadi?" "We put him to death," Kahlan said, not revealing the full extent of the deed.

The young man smiled. "Then you really are friends. Gadi is a bad person. He hurt my friend. I hope he suffered."

"It took him a long time to die," Cara said.

The young man swallowed when he saw her grin from over his shoulder. Kahlan gestured and Cara released him.

"So, who are you two?" he asked.

"My name is Kahlan, and this is Cara."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"That's a little complicated, but we're looking for Richard."

His suspicion returned. "Yeah?"

Kahlan smiled. He was indeed Richard's friend. She put her hand to the side of his shoulder as she held his gaze.

"I'm his wife. His real wife."

Kamil blinked dumbly. "But, but-,,

Kahlan's voice hardened. "Nicci isn't his wife." His eyes brimmed with tears as a grin overcame him. "I knew it. I knew he didn't love her. I could never understand how Richard could have married her."

Kamil suddenly threw his arms around Kahlan, hugging her with fierce happiness for Richard. Kahlan laughed softly as she smoothed the young man's hair. Cara seized his collar and pulled him back, but at least did it gently.

"And you?" Kamil asked Cara.

"I am Mord-"

"Cara is Richard's good friend."

Kamil unexpectedly hugged Cara, then. Kahlan feared the Mord-Sith might crush his skull, but she endured it politely, even if she was ill at ease. Kahlan thought Cara might even have started to smile.

Kamil turned back to Kahlan. "But what is Richard doing with Nicci, then?"

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Kahlan took a deep breath. "It's a long story."

"Tell me."

Kahlan appraised his dark eyes for a moment. She liked what she saw there. Still, she thought it best to keep it simple.

"Nicci is a sorceress. She used magic to force Richard to go with her."

"Magic? What magic?" he pressed without pause.

Kahlan took another breath. "She could have used her magic to hurt me, kill me, if Richard didn't agree to go with her."

Kamil gazed skyward as he thought it over. He finally nodded. "That makes sense. That's the kind of man Richard is-he would do anything to save the woman he loved. I knew he didn't love Nicci."

"And how did you know that?"

Kamil gestured at the two pallets. "He didn't sleep with her. I bet he slept with you, when you were together."

Kahlan could feel her face flushing at his boldness. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know." He scratched his head. "You just look like you belong with him. When you say his name I can see how you care for him."

Kahlan couldn't help but smile through her weariness. They had been riding at a breakneck pace for weeks. They had lost a few horses along the way, and had to acquire others. They had gone with little sleep for the last week. She had trouble even thinking straight.

"So, do you know where Richard is, now?" Kahlan asked.

"At work, I'm sure. He usually comes home about now-unless he has to work at night, too."

Kahlan briefly scanned the room. "What about Nicci?"

"I don't know. She may have gone to buy bread or something. It's a little funny-she's usually home long before now. She almost always has dinner ready for Richard."

Kahlan's gaze drifted through the darkening room, from table, to basin, to cupboard. She would hate to leave, only to have him show up a minute after she left. Kamil thought it was odd that Nicci wasn't home. That they were both gone was troubling.

"Where does he work?" Kahlan asked.

"At the site."

"Site? What site?"

Kamil gestured into the distance. "Out at the emperor's new palace they're building. Tomorrow's the big dedication."

"The new palace is done?"

"Oh, no. It's years and years from being done. It's only started, really. But they are going to dedicate it to the Creator, now. A lot of people have come to Altur'Rang for the ceremony."

"Richard is a laborer helping build the palace?"

Kamil nodded. "He's a carver. At least, he is now. He used to work at Ishaq's transport company, but then he got arrested-"

Kahlan seized him by the shirt. "He was arrested? They . . . tortured him?"

Kamil's eyes turned away from her frantic expression.

"I gave Nicci my money so she could get in to see him. She and Ishaq and Victor the blacksmith got him out. He was hurt bad. When he got better, the officials made him take a job carving."

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Kamil's words spun through her head. The ones that floated above all the rest were that Richard had recovered.

"He carves statues, now?"

Kamil nodded again. "He carves people in stone to decorate the walls of the palace. He helps me with my own carvings. I can show you, out back."

Wonder of wonders. Richard carving. But all the carvings they had seen in the Old World were grotesque. Richard would not like to carve such ugliness. Obviously, he had no choice.

"Maybe later." Kahlan rubbed her fingers across her brow as she considered what to do. "Can you take me there, now? To the site where Richard works?"

"Yes, if you'd like. But don't you want to wait to see if he comes home, first? He may be home soon."

"You said he works at night, sometimes."

"For the last few months, he worked at night a lot. He's carving some special statue for them." Kamil's face brightened. "He told me to go tomorrow to see it. With the dedication tomorrow, it may be he's still finishing it. I've never seen where he works, but Victor, the blacksmith, may know."

"We should go see this blacksmith, then."

Kamil scratched his head again as his expression turned to disappointment. "But the blacksmith will be gone for the night."

"Is there anyone else out there, now?"

"There may be a lot of people there. Crowds go out there to see the place-I've gone out there myselfand tonight there may be more than usual, because of tomorrow's ceremony."

That might be just what they needed. They wouldn't look so out of place searching the area for Richard if there were crowds out there. It would give them an excuse to look around.

"We'll give him an hour," Kahlan said. "If he doesn't return by then, then it's most likely because he's working. If he doesn't come back, we'll have to go out there and look for him."

"What if Nicci shows up?" Cara asked.

Kamil waved his hand to dismiss their concern. "I'll go out on the front steps and watch for Nicci. You two can wait in here, where no one will see you. I'll come warn you if I see Nicci coming up the street. I can always take you out the back way if I see her returning home."

Kahlan laid a hand over his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"That sounds good to me, Kamil. We'll wait in here." Kamil hurried out to his guard post. Kahlan glanced around the tidy room.

"Why don't you get some sleep," Cara said. "I'll stand guard. You stood guard last."

Kahlan was exhausted. She glanced down at the sleeping pallet closest to Richard's things, then nodded. She lay down on his bed. The room was getting dark. Just being where he slept was a comfort. Being so close, but so far, she couldn't fall asleep.

--]--- Nicci's heart sank when she saw that Richard wasn't in their room. Kamil was nowhere to be found. She had felt so good out at the site, watching all the people

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come to see Richard's statue. Throngs of people had come to see it and had been uplifted.

Some had been angered by it. She, of all people, understood that. Still, Nicci could hardly believe the hateful reaction of some people to such beauty. Some people hated life. She understood that, too. There were those who refused to see-who didn't want to see.

Other people, though, had a reaction much like hers.

It had all come clear for her. For the first time in her life, life made sense. Richard had tried to tell her, but she hadn't listened. She had heard the truth before, too, but others-her mother, Brother Narev, the Order-had shouted it down, and shamed her out of listening.

Her mother had trained her well, and from the first day she had seen Brother Narev, Nicci had been a soldier in the Order's army.

When she saw the statue, she saw at last the truth she had always refused to see, suddenly and clearly standing before her. This was the valid vision of life for which she had hungered, yet which she had evaded, her entire life.

She understood, now, why life had seemed so empty, so pointless: she herself had rendered it so in refusing to think. Nicci had been a slave to everyone of need. She had given her masters their only real weapon against her; she had surrendered to their twisted lies by putting the crippling chains of guilt around her own neck for them, giving herself freely into slavery to the whims and wishes of others instead of living her life as she should have-for herself. She had never asked why it was right for her to be a slave to another's desires, but not evil for them to enslave her. She was not contributing to the betterment of mankind, but was merely a servant to countless puling little tyrants. Evil was not one large entity, but a ceaseless torrent of small wrongs left unchallenged, until they festered into monsters.

She had lived her whole life on shifting quicksand, where reason and the intellect were not to be trusted, where only faith was valid, and blind faith was sacred. She, herself, had enforced mindless conformity to that empty evil.

She had helped bring everyone together, so they might have one collective neck around which the worst among men, in the name of good, could put their leash.

Richard had answered their tower of empty lies in one righteously beautiful statement for all to see, and had punctuated it with the simple words on the back of the bronze sundial.

Her life was hers to live by right. She belonged to no one.

Freedom exists first and foremost in the mind of the rational, thinking individual-that was what Richard's statue had shown her. That he had carved it, proved it. A captive of her and the Order, his ideals had risen above both.

Nicci realized only now that she had always known her father held this same value-she had seen it in his eyes-even though he could never rationalize it. His values were expressed through the integrity of his work; that was why, from a young age, she had wanted to be an armorer like him. It was his vision of life she had always loved and admired, but suppressed, because of Mother and her ilk. It was that same look in Richard's eyes, that same value for life held dear, that had drawn Nicci to him.

Nicci knew now that she had worn black ever since her mother's death in an endless, shapeless longing to bury not just her mother's hold over her, but, more important, her mother's evil ideals.

She was so sorry Richard wasn't home. She wanted to tell him that he had given

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her the answer she had sought. She could never ask his forgiveness, though. What she had done to him was beyond forgiveness. She saw that now. The only thing she could do now was to reverse the wrong she had done.

As soon as she found him, they would leave. They would go back to the New World. They would find Kahlan. Then, Nicci would set things right. She had to be close to Kahlan, at least within sight, in order to undo the spell. Then Kahlan would be free. Then Richard would be free.

As much as Nicci loved Richard, she understood, now, that he should be with Kahlan, the woman he loved. Her desire for him gave her no right to do as she had done. She had no right to another's life, as they had no right to hers.

Nicci lay down in her bed and wept at the thought of the outrage she had done to them both. She was overcome with shame. She had been so blind for so long.

She could not believe how she had thrown her entire life away fighting for evil just because it claimed to be good. She truly had been a Sister of the Dark.

She at least could work to correct the harm she had caused.

--]--- Kahlan could hardly believe the size of the crowd. By the light of the moon brightening the thin layer of hazy clouds, and by torches here and there throughout the valley, it looked like the open area as far as she could see was packed with people. The numbers had to be in the hundreds of thousands.

Thunderstruck, Kamil threw up his arms. "It's the middle of the night. I've never seen so many people out here. What are they all doing here?"

"How would we know?" Cara sniped. She was in a foul mood, unhappy that they hadn't found Richard, yet.

The city had been crowded with people, too. With the city guards prowling the streets, uneasy about all the late-night activity, it had been necessary to restrain their eagerness in favor of caution. It had taken them hours to get out to the site by way of back streets, dark roads, and Kamil's guided tour of alleyways.

The lad pointed. "It's up there."

They followed him up a road lined with workshops, most closed up and dark. A few had men inside, still working at benches by the light of lamps or candles.

Kahlan reached under her cloak and curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword when she saw a man running in their direction. He saw them and skidded to a halt.

"Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" Kahlan asked.

He pointed excitedly. "Down at the palace. In the plaza." He started running again. He called behind as he went. "I have to go get my wife and sons. They have to see it."

Kahlan and Cara shared a look in the near darkness.

Kamil ran over to a shop and tugged on a door, but it was shut up tight. "Victor isn't here." His voice couldn't conceal his disappointment. "It's too late."

"Do you know what's down in the plaza?" Kahlan asked him.

He thought a moment. "The plaza? I know the place, but . . . wait, that's where Richard told me to go. The plaza. He said to go to the plaza tomorrow."

"Let's go down there now and have a look," Kahlan said.

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Kamil waved a hand, pointing. "This is the shortest way, down the hill behind the blacksmith shop."

So jammed was the place with people, that it took them over an hour just to make it down the hill and across the expanse of grounds around the palace. Even though it was the middle of the night, more people kept arriving all the time.

Once they reached the palace, Kahlan discovered that they couldn't get to the plaza. There was a huge mob of people stretching back forever along the front wall, waiting to go up to the plaza. When Kahlan, Cara, and Kamil tried to go around and get up there to see what was going on, it nearly started a riot. People had been waiting a long time to reach the plaza, and they didn't like having others try to push ahead. Kahlan saw several men try to get ahead by going around the waiting crowd. They were set upon by the mob.

Cara pulled her hand out from under her cloak and casually showed Kahlan her Agiel.

Kahlan shook her head. "Long odds with Jagang's army are one thing, but the three of us against a few hundred thousand does not sound good to me."

"Really?" Cara asked. "I thought it roughly even."

Kahlan only smiled. Even Cara knew better than to go against a mob. Kamil frowned in puzzlement at Cara's humor. When they found the back of the line, they melted in.

It wasn't long before the line behind them grew so large that they could no longer see the back end winding out into the grounds. The people all around seemed filled with a strange kind of nervous expectancy.

A round woman in front, bundled up in little more than rags, turned a plump grin on them. She held out what looked like a loaf of bread.

"Would you like some?" she asked.

"Thank you, no," Kahlan said. "But that's very kind of you to offer."

"I've never made such an offer, before." The woman giggled. "Seems the right thing to do, now, doesn't it?"

Kahlan had no idea what the woman was talking about, but said, "Yes, it does."

Throughout the night, the line inched along. Kahlan's back ached painfully. She even saw Cara grimace as she stretched.

"I still think we just ought to draw weapons and get up there," Cara finally complained.

Kahlan leaned in close. "What difference does it make? Where have we to go before morning? When morning comes, we can go up to the blacksmith's place or to the carving areas over there and hopefully find Richard, but we can do nothing tonight."

"Maybe he will be at his room, now."

"You want to run into Nicci again? You know what she's capable of. The next time we may not be so lucky to escape. We haven't come all this way to battle her-I just want to see Richard. Even if Richard goes back there-and we don't know that he will-we do know he's got to return here in the morning."

"I suppose," Cara grouched.

The sky was taking on a faint reddish glow by the time they made it to the foot of the marble steps. They could hear moaning and wailing up ahead. Kahlan couldn't see the cause, but people up on the plaza were weeping freely. Oddly enough, some people could be heard to laugh joyfully. A few others cursed, as if they had been robbed of their life savings at the point of a knife.

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As they slowly made their way up the steps, Kahlan and Cara tried to stay low behind the people surrounding them so as not to draw attention to themselves. The plaza above was lit by dozens of torches, their flickering light giving an indication of the vastness of the crowds. The smell of the burning pitch mixed sourly with the stale sweat of the packed multitude.

Through a momentary gap between people in front of her, Kahlan snatched a

quick glance ahead. She blinked at what she saw, but it was gone almost as fast as she saw it, screened by the throng. The people ahead wept some, it sounded, with joy.

Kahlan began to make out the polite voices of men asking the crowd to keep moving, imploring them to give others a chance. The ragtag collection of people steadily advanced up onto the white marble of the plaza, like beggars at a coronation. The torchlight was finally being replaced by radiant daylight as the sun cleared the horizon. Golden rays washed the face of the palace.

The scenes carved in the stone up on the walls were disturbing. If they were any different from the others she had seen in the Old World, it was only in that they were more gruesome, more horrifying, more desolately hopeless, and more plentiful.

Kahlan's mind played over the lines of her statue of Spirit. The idea of Richard having to carve such things as she saw up on the walls sickened her.

She felt a sense of gloom overcoming her. This was the Order: pain, suffering, death. This was what was in store for the New World at the hands of these monsters. She couldn't take her eyes from the scenes on the walls, from the fate that awaited the people of her homeland-the fate so many blindly embraced.

Then, all of a sudden, as the people shuffled around and past, Kahlan beheld the white marble figures rising up before her. The sight took her breath in a gasp. The rays of dawn lit them as if the sun itself had risen just to caress the lustrous forms in all their glory.

Cara gripped Kahlan's arm, her fingers digging in painfully as she, too, was taken by the sight. The statue of the man and woman seized Kahlan's imagination with their nobility of spirit.

She felt tears run down her cheeks, and then she was weeping openly, like the people around her, at the majesty, the dignity, the beauty, of what stood before her. It was everything the carvings on the walls all around were not. It offered freely everything they denied.

LIFE, it said at the base.

Kahlan had to gasp through her tears to draw breath. She clutched at Cara's arm, and Cara clutched at hers, the two of them holding on to each other for support as the crowd swept them along in a current of shared emotion. The man in the statue was not Richard, but there was much of Richard in it. The woman was not Kahlan, but there was enough of her form in it that Kahlan felt her face flushing at others seeing it.

"Please look and move along so that others may view it too," the men at the sides kept calling. They weren't wearing uniforms; they were as tattered-looking as everyone else. They appeared to be ordinary citizens who had just stepped in to help.

The woman who had offered the bread fell to her knees in wailing. Arms respectfully lifted her and helped her to move on. The woman, living in the Old World, had probably never seen a thing of such beauty.

As Kahlan shuffled around the statue, unable to take her eyes from it, she reached

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out to touch it, as did everyone else. As she was carried past, her fingers met the smooth flesh in stone, knowing it was also where Richard's fingers had been. She wept all the harder.

As she moved past, Kahlan saw then that the curve of the sundial had words on the back:

"Your life is yours alone. Rise up and live it."

The words were visible on the lips of many who saw them.

The crowd kept coming up the steps, forcing the people around the statue to move on. Men at the rear guided people between the columns, out through the rear of the partially built palace, and out of the way so that others could come up to view the statue.

"I wish Benjamin could see this," Cara said, her blue eyes brimming with tears.

Kahlan was overcome with a burble of laughter. "I was going to say, `I wish Richard could see it.""

Cara laughed with her as they were swept away by the river of people.

Kamil grabbed Kahlan's hand. She saw him take Cara's, too.

"Yeah," he said with authority, "Richard carved it."

"Where to?" Kahlan asked him. "Where do you think we can find him?"

"I guess we should make our way back up to the blacksmith's place. Hopefully, Richard will show up there. If not, maybe Victor will know where he is."

Kamil's words, "Richard carved it," rang joyfully through her mind.

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CHAPTER 67

Richard climbed through the high window and dropped to the ground, his boots hitting with a thud. He could hardly believe he had slept the whole night under a tarp in the back of a wagon. He could hardly believe that Jori didn't wake him so he could go home when they were close. The man probably didn't think it was his job, and so he wouldn't do it. Richard sighed. Maybe Jori hadn't known he was in the back.

Richard brushed himself off. He stood outside the transport company building where he used to work when he had first come to Altur'Rang, and where he had been locked in all night. Of course, he had been asleep, so he didn't know Jori had locked him inside.

Richard didn't know where to go-home, or to the Retreat. The sky glowed orange and violet in the bright sunrise. He supposed there was no point in going home; that would only make him late to work. He decided he had better get to work.

Work. What work? This was the day of the celebration, the dedication. When Brother Narev saw the statue, Richard was not going to have to worry about work anymore.

He knew that if he ran, tried to escape, it would only trigger Nicci's anger, and then Kahlan's life would be forfeit. Richard had spent over a year with Nicci-as long a time as he had spent with Kahlanand Nicci repeatedly had made clear his choices. Kahlan's life was always the price in the balance.

Richard had no real choice. At least he would get to see Victor's face when he saw the statue. Richard smiled at that thought. It was the only pleasant prospect the day held.

The day was most likely to end in the wet dark hole where he had been before. He missed a step at that thought. He didn't want to go back into that place. It was so small. Richard didn't like being trapped-especially in small places. He didn't like either of those concepts; together, they were terrifying.

As fearful as the prospect of such a fate was, he had carved the statue with conscious intent and with forethought, knowing the probability of the eventual price. What he had accomplished was worth that price. Slavery was not life. Nicci had once promised him that if he died, or chose death, that would in itself be her answer, and she would not harm Kahlan. Now, Richard could only put his faith in that promise.

The statue existed. That was what mattered. Life existed. People needed to see that. So many people in the Old World needed to see that life existed, and was to be lived.

For so early in the morning, there was an unusual amount of activity on the streets of Altur'Rang. Now and again, squads of heavily armed city guards rushed

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down the streets. There were a lot of people come to the city for the dedication celebration. He supposed that was why there were so many people out on the streets.

The guards paid him no attention. He knew they soon would.

When he arrived at the Retreat, Richard was shocked by what he saw. The open miles of grounds were covered with people. They crowded in around the palace walls like ants around spilled honey. He couldn't even begin to estimate how many people blanketed the surrounding hills. It was disorienting to see the panoply of color where before he had seen only brown dirt and green winter rye. He had no idea that this many people had wanted to come to the dedication. But then, he had been working day and night for months--how would he hear what people planned?

Richard skirted the worst of the throngs and made his way up the road toward the blacksmith's shop. He wanted to get Victor and go down with him to the site to see the statue before the Order came out to begin the dedication. Victor would no doubt be eagerly waiting.

The road was crowded with people. They seemed excited, happy, and expectant. It was a far cry from the way most people in the Old World usually appeared or behaved. Maybe a celebration, even one such as this, was better than the rest of their dreary days.

A half mile from Victor's place, a wild-looking Brother Neal leaped into the road and thrust an arm in Richard's direction.

"There he is! Grab him!"

Guards combing throughout the surrounding crowds drew weapons at Neal's command. As they swept in around him, Richard's first instinct was to fight. In an instant, he had assessed the enemy and calculated his attack. He had only to grab one sword from a clumsy guard and he would have them all. In his own mind, the grisly deed was already done. He had only to bring it to reality.

The guards came at him in a dead run. People scattered out of the way, some screaming in fright.

There was the matter of Neal, though. Neal was a wizard. But Richard could deal with that threat, too-need powered his ability. Need, and anger. He certainly had enough anger for the task. That part of him that the Sword of Truth used, that rage of dark violence, already thundered through him.

Except that Nicci had told him that if he used his magic, Kahlan would die. Would she know?

Sooner or later, she would.

Richard stood submissively still as the guards roughly seized him by his arms to subdue him. Others snatched his shirt from behind.

What did it really matter? If he resisted, it would only hurt Kahlan. If they executed him, Nicci would let Kahlan live her life.

But he didn't want to go back into that dark hole.

Neal raced up, shaking a finger in Richard's face. "What is the meaning of this, Cypher! What did you think you were going to accomplish!"

"May I ask what are you talking about, Brother Neal?"

Neal's face was crimson. "The statue!"

"What, you don't like it?"

With all his might, Neal slammed his fist into Richard's middle. The guards holding him laughed. Richard had seen it coming and had tightened his muscles, but it still drove the wind from him. He finally managed to draw his breath.

Neal found that he enjoyed administering punishment, and did it again.

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"Oh, you're going to pay for your blasphemy, Cypher. You're going to pay the price, this time. You'll confess to it all, before we're done. But first, you'll watch your wicked perversion destroyed." Neal, his face twisted with superior, selfrighteous indignation, gestured to the burly guards. "Let's get him down there. And don't be shy about making way through the crowd."

By midmorning, Kahlan's hopes of the blacksmith showing up had all but vanished.

"I'm sorry," Kamil said, looking glum as he watched her pace. "I don't know why Victor isn't here. I thought he would be, I really did."

Kahlan finally halted and gave the worried lad a pat on the shoulder. "I know you did, Kamil. With the celebration today, and with what's going on down there with the statue, this is hardly a normal day around here, I'm sure."

"Look," Cara said. Kahlan saw she was peering down toward the palace. "Guards with spears are moving the crowd off the plaza."

Kahlan squinted off down at the hill. "Your eyes are better than mine. I can't tell." She cast a frustrated glare at the closed blacksmith's shop. "But it's doing us no good waiting up here. Let's see if we can make it down there and get a better look." Kahlan put a restraining hand on Cara's arm. "But let's not start a war with this crowd?"

Cara's mouth twisted in exasperation. Kahlan turned to the young man kicking a toe at the dirt, looking shamed by his failed plan to help them find Richard.

"Kamil, will you do something for me?"

"Sure. What?"

"Will you wait up here, in case Richard comes here, or even the blacksmith? If the blacksmith comes to his shop, he might know something."

Kamil stretched his neck and gazed down at the palace. "Well, all right. If Richard does come here, I wouldn't want him to miss you. What shall I tell him, if I see him.

Kahlan smiled. That I love him, she thought, but said instead, "Tell him I'm here, with Cara, and we've gone down there looking for him. If he does show up, I don't want to miss him. Have him wait here-we'll come back."

Kahlan thought they could make it down to the plaza to have a look, but everyone else seemed to have the same idea. It took forever just to make it down the hill to the grounds. The closer they got, the tighter the people were jammed together. Kahlan's progress ground to a halt. It was a struggle just to keep contact with Cara. Everyone in the crowd seemed intent on squeezing forward toward the plaza. More people crushed in all the time.

Kahlan soon realized that she and Cara were trapped in the press of people.

The conversation on everyone's lips was about only one thing: the statue.

--]--- It was late in the day by the time Nicci had worked herself partway toward the plaza. Every inch gained had been a struggle. She was close enough to see the people up around the statue, but she could get no closer. Try as she might, she could not make any more headway. Just like her, everyone else wanted to get closer, too. They were pressed up against her, pinning her arms. It was at times a frightening, helpless

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feeling. She managed to pull one arm free so she could help herself maintain her balance. It came to her that to fall in such circumstances could be fatal.

If only she had her power.

Her own arrogance had driven her to trading it away. What she had gotten in return, though, was life. But it had cost Richard and Kahlan their freedom. Nicci couldn't simply withdraw her power from the link, in order to have use of her gift again, or Kahlan would die. Nicci didn't want her life at the cost of another's-that was what she had come to understand was true evil.

Nicci had searched for Richard. She hadn't found him. She hadn't been able to find the blacksmith, Mr. Cascella, or Ishaq, either. As soon as she could find Richard, she could tell him that she had been wrong, and then they could leave Altur'Rang. She wanted so much to see his face when she told him she was taking him back to Kahlan and that she was going to reverse the spell. Of all people, they were the last who should have to suffer for what Nicci had learned.

The only place left that she could think to look for him was at the statue. He might be there. Try as she might, though, she couldn't get any closer. Now, she realized that she probably couldn't even extract herself from the crush of hundreds of thousands of people around her. There had to be well over a half million people in the huge throng around the palace.

And then, Nicci saw Brother Narev and his disciples appear up on the plaza, all in their dark brown robes, Brother Narev in his creased cap, the rest with their faces hidden in deeply cowled hoods. Crowding the rear of the plaza were a few hundred officials of the Order who had traveled in to attend the palace dedication-important men, all.

If only she had her power, she could have killed them where they stood.

It was then that she caught a fleeting glimpse of Richard behind the. officials, with guards surrounding him. The whole central area around the plaza was thick with the surly guards.

Brother Narev stepped out to the edge of the plaza, all angles under dark robes. Beneath his creased cap, beneath his hooded brow, his dark gaze swept the assembly. The people were in a noisy, emotional state. Brother Narev did not look pleased, but then, Brother Narev never looked pleased. Pleasure, he would say, was wicked. He raised his anus, commanding silence.

When the crowd quieted, he began in that terrible grating voice of his, a voice that had haunted her from that day in her house when she was little, that voice that she had allowed to rule her mind, that voice that, along with her mother's, had done her thinking for her.

"Fellow citizens of the Order. We have a special event planned for you today. Today, we bring you the spectacle of temptation . . . and more."

His arm glided back toward the statue. His long thin fingers opened. His voice rumbled with revulsion. "Evil, itself."

The crowd murmured uneasily. Brother Narev smiled, the thin slash of his mouth pleating back his hollow cheeks as he grinned like death's own skull. His eyes were as dark as his robes. The setting sun was fleeing the scene, taking clarity, leaving behind the tremors of flickering light from the dozens of torches to cast their flickering orange light across the massive columns towering behind the plaza, and the weak light of the moon to wash the faces of the grim officials. The air, so cloying with the heavy scents of the crowd, had turned chill.

"Fellow citizens of the Order," Brother Narev said in a voice that Nicci thought

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might crack the stone walls, "today you will see what happens to evil, when confronted by the virtue of the Order."

He hooked a skeletal finger, signaling behind the heads of the officials. Guards muscled Richard forward. Nicci cried out, but her voice was lost in the clamor of tens of thousands of other voices.

Brother Neal swaggered forward, then, lugging with him a sledgehammer.

Nicci checked to the sides and saw that there were several thousand armed guards at hand. More screened the plaza off from the people. Brother Narev had taken no chances. Neal, with a polite smile and a deferential bow, handed the sledgehammer to Brother Narev.

Brother Narev lifted the sledgehammer above his head as if it were a sword held high in triumph.

"Evil, wherever it is found, must be destroyed." He aimed the weaving head of the sledgehammer toward the statue. "This is a thing of evil, created by an extremist who hates his fellow man, to victimize the weak. He contributes nothing to the advancement of his fellow man, nothing to the succor of his fellow man, nothing to the education or support of his fellow man. He offers only lewd and profane images to prey on the susceptible and feebleminded among us."

The crowd was silent in their bewildered disappointment. From what Nicci could tell as she had walked among them throughout the day, they had come to believe that this statue was some new offering by the Order to the people-some grand thing for them to see at the emperor's palace, some bright shining hope. They were confused and stunned by what they were hearing.

Brother Narev lifted the sledgehammer. "Before this criminal's corpse is hung from a pole for his crimes against the Order, he is to see his vile work destroyed to the cheers of virtuous people!"

As the sun's last ray fled below the horizon, Brother Narev lifted the heavy sledgehammer high in the flickering light of smoking torches. The sledgehammer wobbled momentarily at the apex of its arc before descending in a heavy swing. The crowd sent up a collective gasp as the steel head rang out when it struck the male statue's leg. A few small chips fell away. It had done surprisingly little damage.

In the absolute silence, Richard laughed derisively at Brother Narev's impotent swing.

Even from the distance, Nicci could see Brother Narev's face turning crimson as Richard stood watching and chuckling. The crowd murmured, hardly able to believe any man would laugh at a brother of the Order-at Brother Narev himself.

Brother Narev could hardly believe it.

The dozens of guards who had their spears leveled at Richard could hardly believe it.

In the tense silence, Richard's laugh echoed off the semicircle of stone walls and soaring columns behind them. Death's grin returned. Brother Narev lifted the sledgehammer by the head, its weight awkward in his bony hand, and held the handle out to Richard.

"You will destroy your depraved work yourself."

The words "or you will die on the spot" were not spoken, but everyone heard them implied.

Richard accepted the handle of the sledgehammer. He could have looked no more noble doing so if he had been taking a jewel-encrusted sword.

Richard's raptor gaze left Brother Narev and swept out over the crowd as he took

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several strides toward the steps. Brother Narev lifted a finger, signaling the guards to hold their spears. By the smirk on the faces of Brothers Narev and Neal, they didn't think the crowd would care to hear anything a sinner had to say.

"You are ruled," Richard said in a voice that rang out over the multitude, "by mean little men."

The people gasped as one. To speak against a brother was treason, most likely, and heresy for sure.

"My crime?" Richard asked aloud. "I have given you something beautiful to see, daring to hold the conviction that you have a right to see it if you wish. Worse . . . I have said that your lives are your own to live."

A rolling murmur swept out through the multitude. Richard's voice rose in power, demanding in its clarity to be heard above the whispering.

"Evil is not one large entity, but a collection of countless, small depravities brought up from the muck by petty men. Living under the Order, you have traded the enrichment of vision for a gray fog of mediocrity-the fertile inspiration of striving and growth, for mindless stagnation and slow decay-the brave new ground of the attempt, for the timid quagmire of apathy."

With gazes riveted and lips still, the crowd listened. Richard gestured out over their heads with his sledgehammer, wielded with the effortless grace of a royal sword.

"You have traded freedom not even for a bowl of soup, but worse, for the spoken empty feelings of others who say that you deserve to have a full bowl of soup provided by someone else.

"Happiness, joy, accomplishment, achievement . . . are not finite commodities, to be divided up. Is a child's laughter to be divided up and allotted? No! Simply make more laughter!"

Laughter, pleased laughter, rippled through the crowd.

Brother Narev's scowl grew. "We've heard enough of your extremist rambling! Destroy your profane statue. Now."

Richard cocked his head. "Oh? The collective assembly of the Order, and of brothers, fears to hear what one insignificant man could say? You fear mere words that much, Brother Narev?"

Dark eyes stole a quick glance at the crowd as they leaned forward, eager to hear his answer.

"We fear no words. Virtue is on our side, and will prevail. Speak your blasphemy, so all may understand why moral people will side against you."

Richard smiled out at the people, but he spoke with brutal honesty.

"Every person's life is theirs by right. An individual's life can and must belong only to himself, not to any society or community, or he is then but a slave. No one can deny another person their right to their life, nor seize by force what is produced by someone else, because that is stealing their means to sustain their life. It is treason against mankind to hold a knife to a man's throat and dictate how he must live his life. No society can be more important than the individuals who compose it, or else you ascribe supreme importance, not to man, but to any notion that strikes the fancy of that society, at a never-ending cost of lives. Reason and reality are the only means to just laws; mindless wishes, if given sovereignty, become deadly masters.

"Surrendering reason to faith in these men sanctions their use of force to enslave you-to murder you. You have the power to decide how you will live your life.

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These mean little men up here are but cockroaches, if you say they are. They have no power to control you but that which you grant them!"

Richard pointed with the sledgehammer back at the statue. "This is life. Your life. To live as you choose." He swept the head of the sledgehammer in an arc, pointing out the carvings up on the walls. "This is what the Order offers you: death."

"We've heard enough of your blasphemy!" Brother Narev shrieked. "Destroy your evil creation now, or die!"

The spears rose.

Richard calmly swept a fearless glance around at the guards, then stepped to his statue. Nicci's heart was pounding against her ribs. She didn't want it destroyed. It was too good to destroy. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't take this away.

Richard rested the sledgehammer across his shoulder. He lifted his other hand up to the statue as he addressed the crowd one last time.

"This is what the Order is taking from you-your humanity, your individuality, your freedom to live your own life."

Richard briefly touched the sledgehammer to his forehead.

With a mighty swing, the steel head arced around. Nicci could hear the air whistle. The entire statue seemed to shudder as the sledgehammer struck the base with a thunderous boom.

In a moment of brittle silence, she heard the faintest sound, the ripping popping crackling whisper of the stone itself.

Then, the entire statue crashed down in a roar of fragments and billowing white dust.

The officials at the back of the plaza cheered. The guards hooted and hollered as they waved their weapons in the air.

They were the only ones. The crowd was dead silent as dust rolled out across the plaza. All their hope, embodied in the statue, had just been destroyed.

Nicci stared in a daze. Her throat constricted with the agony of it. Her eyes watered. They all watched, as if having just witnessed a tragic, pointless death.

The guards moved toward Richard with their spears leveled, prodding him back to other guards waiting with heavy shackles.

Down closer to the steps, a clear voice rang out from the stunned crowd. "No! We'll not stand for it!"

In the gathering darkness, Nicci saw the man who had yelled. He was up close

to the front, furiously trying to fight his way through the press of people to get to

the plaza. It was the blacksmith, Mr. Cascella.

"We'll not stand for it!" he roared. "I'll not let you enslave me any longer! Do you hear? I'm a free man! A free man!"

The entire mass of people before the palace erupted in a deafening roar.

And then, as one, they lunged forward.

Fists in the air, voices raised in cries of rage, the mass of humanity avalanched toward the plaza. Ranks of heavily armed men marched down the steps to meet the advance. They vanished beneath the onslaught.

Nicci screamed with all her might, trying to get Richard's attention, but her voice was lost in the hurricane.

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CHAPTER 68

Richard didn't know what stunned him more: to see his statue in rubble, or to see the crowd charging up the steps after Victor had declared himself a free man.

The mob rolled without pause over armed guards descending the steps to meet them. A number of people fell wounded or killed. The bodies were trampled beneath the surge of people. Those in front couldn't stop if they wanted to-the weight of tens of thousands behind them propelled them onward. But they didn't want to stop. The roar was deafening.

The brothers panicked. The officials in the rear panicked. The few thousand armed guards panicked. In that instant, the nature of the world transformed from the omnipotent power of the Order assembled on the plaza, to every man for himself.

Richard wanted Brother Narev. He saw, instead, armed men rushing in at him. Richard swung and buried the head of the sledgehammer in the chest of a man who came at him with sword raised high. As the man flew past, the handle of the sledgehammer sticking from the crater in his chest, Richard snatched the sword from his fist, and then, blade in hand, he unleashed himself.

A small group of guards saw fit to protect the brothers. Richard charged into them, cutting with every stroke. Every slash or thrust took a man down.

But guards were not what Richard was mainly interested in. If he was to lose everything, he wanted Narev's head in the bargain. As he fought his way through the chaos of people crushing into the plaza, he couldn't find Brother Narev anywhere.

Victor appeared out of the melee gripping a brother by the hair. Other men had joined Victor-and each had a hand on the brother. The burly blacksmith wore a scowl that would bend iron. The brother's eyes were rolling around as if he'd been hit on the head, and couldn't gather his senses.

"Richard!" Victor called out.

The men, some still grasping the brother's brown robes, rushed in around Richard. They stood in a sweep around him, ten or fifteen deep.

"What should we do with him?" one man asked.

Richard glanced around at all the people. He saw men he knew from the site. Priska was among them, and Ishaq, too.

"Why ask me? It's your revolt." He met the eyes of the men with challenge. "What do you think you should do with him?"

"You tell us, Richard," one of the carvers said.

Richard shook his head. "No. You tell me what you intend to do with him. But you should know, this man is a wizard. When he comes around, he's going to start killing people. This is a matter of life and death, and he knows it. Do you? This is about your lives. It is for you to decide what to do, not me."

"We want you with us this time, Richard," Priska called out. "But if you still

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won't join us, then we're having our lives back, having this revolt, without you. That's the way it's going to be!"

The men all shook their fists as they yelled their agreement.

Victor hugged the groggy brother to his chest and wrenched his head until his neck broke. The limp body slipped to the floor.

"And that's what we intend to do with him," Victor said.

Richard held out his hand as he smiled. "Always glad to meet a free man." They clasped forearms. Richard looked into Victor's eyes. "I'm Richard Rahl."

Victor blinked; then his belly laugh rolled out. With his free hand, he clapped Richard on the side of his shoulder.

"Sure you are. We all are! You had me going for a second, there, Richard. You really did."

The press of the crowd drove them back to the columns. Richard reached down and snatched the dead brother's robes, pulling the body along with him. The mass of towering stone walls and marble columns afforded some protection from the raging river of people.

The ground shuddered. A blast from the inside blew a hole out through the wall. The darkness ignited with light. Stone fragments whistled through the air. Dozens of bloodied people were thrown back.

"What was that!" Victor called out through the din of screaming, yelling, and the roar of the explosion.

Ignoring the danger, the crowd continued to advance on the men who had enslaved them. Throngs swarmed over the spot where the statue had stood, scooping up shards of marble. They kissed their fingers and, as they swept past, planted those kisses on the words on the back of the fallen bronze ring. They were choosing life.

Hordes of people had captured a number of the brothers and officials, and were beating them to death with chunks of white marble from the rubble of the statue.

"Brother Narev is a sorcerer," Richard said. "Victor, you have to organize some of these men-get control of this mob. Narev can use powerful magic. I commend people's desire to be free, but we're going to have a great many killed and injured if we don't get this under control."

"I understand," Victor said as he fought to keep from being swept away.

A number of men who had been crowded around Richard, protecting him, heard what he said and nodded their agreement. The commands to organize started to spread through the crowd. These people wanted to succeed. They were willing to work toward their goal, and saw reason in the orders beginning to be called out. Many of these men were used to handling large groups of workers. They knew the business of organizing men.

Richard started pulling off the dead brother's robes. "You men have to keep these people out of the palace. Narev is in there. Anyone who goes in could easily be killed. You have to keep people out. It will be a death trap in there with the brothers."

"I understand," Victor said.

"We'll keep them back," men called to Richard.

Richard threw the dead brother's brown robes up over his head. Victor snatched him by the arm. "What are you doing?"

Richard popped his head up through the neck opening. "I'm going in there. In the darkness, Narev will think I'm a brother, and I'll be able to get close to him." He poked his confiscated sword through the robes to hide the blade. He covered the

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hilt with his wrist. "Keep people out Narev commands dangerous magic. I have to stop him."

"You watch yourself," Victor said.

The men who had assumed command began fanning out, urging people to follow their orders. Some people did, and as they did, yet more followed. With all the officials who they'd captured now dead, the mob was slowly being brought to task, and not a moment too soon. The crushing weight of people flooding up onto the plaza was a danger to everyone.

Passing people wept as they picked up pieces of marble from the statue, holding the tokens of freedom and beauty to their breast as they moved on to allow others to do the same. These were people who had been offered life, and had taken it. They had proven themselves.

Victor saw what everyone was doing. "Richard . . . I'm so sorry-"

A fiery blast exploded through the plaza, cutting down well over a hundred people. Bodies were ripped apart in the violence of it. A huge stone column toppled, crushing people who couldn't get out of the way because of the press of the throng.

"Later!" Richard yelled over the pandemonium. "I've got to stop Narev! Keep these people out-they'll only die in there!"

Victor nodded before he rushed off with the other men he knew to try to gain control of the situation.

Richard put the tumult and confusion behind him, and stepped through a gaping doorway between the columns . . . into the darkness.

--]--- There were miles of unfinished corridors, some clogged with bodies. In the first crush, as the people swept up onto the plaza, they had chased brothers and officials into the labyrinth of the palace. Many of those people had been unfortunate enough to find Brother Narev. The stench of burned flesh filled Richard's nostrils as he moved silently through the darkness.

Richard had been a woods guide long before he became the Seeker, long before he became Lord Rahl. Darkness was his element. In his mind, he gathered that cloak of darkness around himself.

Within the massive stone walls, under the heavy beams, partial wooden floors, and slate roofs overhead, the riot of the crowd was a distant, echoing rumble. Through the gaping openings of undressed doorways stood rooms without roofs or floors above, allowing in a flood of moonlight. It all created a tangled mesh of shadows and faint light that suggested every form of danger.

Richard came across an older woman lying bleeding in the hall, whimpering in agony. He bent to one knee, putting a hand gently to her shoulder as he kept his eyes on the dark hall ahead and its sockets of blackness to each side.

He could feel the woman trembling beneath his fingers. "Where are you hurt?" he whispered. He pushed the hood of the robe back so that in the moonlight coming between the unfinished beams above she could see his face. "I'm Richard."

A smile of recognition overcame her. "Leg," she said.

She pulled her dress up. In faint light, he saw a dark wound just above the knee. With his sword, he sliced off the hem of her dress to use as a bandage to close the wound.

"I want to live. I wanted to help." She took the strip of cloth and pushed his

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hands away. "Thank you for cutting me the cloth. I can do it, now." She clutched his robe, pulling him closer. "You've showed us life with your statue. Thank you."

Richard smiled as he squeezed her shoulder.

"I was trying to get that cockroach. Will you do it?"

Richard kissed his finger and pressed the kiss to her forehead. "I will. Bandage up your leg and lie still until we have the situation under control; then we'll send people in to help."

Richard started moving again. From the distance came screams of rage, and pain. Guards who had escaped into the maze of the unfinished palace were battling people who had gone in after them.

Richard spotted a brother trembling behind a corner. It wasn't Narev-there was a hood, not a cap. Playing the part of a brother, Richard pulled his hood up again and strode to the man. The brother looked relieved to see a comrade.

"Who are you?" he whispered toward Richard, lifting his hand to use his magic to light a small flame above his palm.

"Justice," Richard said to the wide eyes as he drove his sword through the man's heart.

Richard pulled his sword free and concealed it once more under his robes.

Nicci would no doubt take her revenge. There seemed nothing he could do about it. Nicci had often enough made Richard's choices clear. He was bound and determined to at least lay waste to the Order. If only there were a way to get Nicci to see reason, to get her to help him. At times, the look in her blue eyes seemed so tantalizingly close to comprehension. He knew Nicci had feelings for him. He wished he could use those feelings to get her to see reason, to help him, to cast off her chains, but he didn't know how.

Richard stepped back into the blackness of a room as he heard guards running his way. As they turned into the hallway, Richard again drew his sword. When they were close, he burst out of the doorway and took off the first guard's head. The second swung his sword, missed, and lifted it for another strike. Richard ran his sword through the man's belly. The wounded guard pulled back, off the blade. Before Richard could finish him, more men burst into the hall. The man with the gut wound wasn't going to be a problem anymore; it would take him hours of agony to die.

Richard retreated through the dark doorway, tempting men in after him. He stood still in the dark, and as they rushed in, panting, crunching debris beneath the balls of their feet as they turned, Richard located them by sound alone and cut them down. Half a dozen men died in the pitch black room before the rest ran.

Richard raced onward toward the sounds of explosions. Every time gouts of flame flashed through the morass of hallways, he hid his eyes with a hand in order to preserve his night vision. When the blinding flashes ceased, he quickly continued in the direction from which they had come.

There were mile upon mile of halls in the palace. Some opened out into grounds where nothing had yet been built. Others went along between walls open overhead. Still others tunneled through the darkness, enclosed by upper floors or roofs. Richard descended stairs into blackness, into the palace underground, following the roar of conjured flames.

Down below the main floor were networks of interconnected rooms, made up of a confusing snarl of chambers and narrow halls. As he plunged through a labyrinth of shadowy rooms, going through holes in unfinished walls and empty doorways,

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he came suddenly upon a cloaked man with a sword. He knew none of the people were armed.

The man spun around, his sword leading, but since Richard was disguised in robes, he knew the man might not be a true foe.

In a flash of moonlight, Richard was stunned to see the Sword of Truth over the shoulder of the person. It was Kahlan.

He froze in shock.

She saw only a figure in brown robes-a brother-standing in a shaft of moonlight. The hood shadowed his face.

In the same instant, before he could call her name, he saw, over Kahlan's shoulder, someone running their way. Nicci.

In one terrible blinding instant, Richard knew what he had to do. It was his only chance-Kahlan's only chance-to be free.

In that crystal clear instant of understanding, terror flashed through him. He didn't know if he could do it.

He had to.

Richard drew his sword and blocked Kahlan's thrust.

And then he attacked her.

He drove into her with controlled violence, careful not to hurt her. He knew how she fought. He knew because he had taught her. He played the role of a clumsy, but lucky, opponent.

Nicci was getting closer.

Richard couldn't drag it out. It had to be timed just right. He waited until Kahlan was slightly off balance and then with a powerful clash, caught her sword near the cross guard. She cried out with the shock as her sword flew from her hand and the blow spun her around, just as he had intended.

She didn't hesitate for an instant. Without pause, still spinning, her hand reached up and pulled free the Sword of Truth. The air rang with the unique sound of steel he knew so well.

Kahlan whirled around, the blade leading. He saw for a split second the terrible violent rage in her eyes. It hurt him to see that in Kahlan's beautiful eyes. He knew what it did to a person.

Richard entered a numb world all his own. He knew what he had to do. He felt no emotion. He blocked high, controlling her attack and where he wanted her to go with the blade. He had to get her to put it where he intended, if there was to be any chance.

Teeth gritted, Kahlan drove her sword for the opening he deliberately left her.

--]--- Kahlan was in the realm of uncontrollable rage. The instant she seized the hilt, the Sword of Truth had inundated her with pounding fury. Nothing in the world felt better than knowing she was going to kill with it. The weapon, too, demanded blood.

These people had Richard. These brothers had twisted their lives. These men had sent murderers to her homeland. These men had sent assassins to slaughter Warren.

Now, she had one of them.

She screamed as she spun, screamed with the rage, screamed with the demand for blood. It was glorious to have the object of such perfect rage within reach.

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He made a mistake-leaving an opening. Without hesitation, she went for it with cold fury, the blade leading.

He was hers.

--]--- Richard felt the blade hit him. It was shocking. It felt unlike what he expected. It felt something like he imagined the mighty blow of the sledgehammer on the statue might feel.

His mouth opened. Now was the time; he had to stop her-keep her from doing any more. He had to do it now. If she wrenched the blade through him, ripped him open any more, Nicci would never be able to heal him. Her power could only heal so much.

Nicci would have to free Kahlan from the spell in order to regain the use of her sorceress's magic-in order to heal him.

He reasoned that she cared enough for him to do that.

Richard's mouth was open as he felt the blade still driving through him. It was a sickening shock. Even expecting it, as he had, it still seemed unreal. It still surprised him.

He needed to tell her it was him. To stop.

He needed at least to call out her name so she would stop without doing too much damage.

His mouth was still open.

He had no breath.

He couldn't make himself say her name.

--]--- As she searched frantically for Richard, Nicci saw the two people battling. One was a brother. The other she didn't recognize, yet there was something deeply unsettling about it all. Nicci felt a strange stirring. The feeling was oddly familiar, but in all the confusion of emotion, she just didn't recognize it.

They were a good distance away.

The man in the cape lost his sword. It looked as if the brother had him. Nicci wanted to help-but how? She had to find Richard. Someone said they saw him go into the palace. She had to find him.

She ran toward the pair. The man pulled free another sword strapped over his shoulder. The strange feeling welled up in Nicci. Something was terribly wrong, but she didn't know what.

And then she saw the brother make a mistake. Nicci halted.

With a cry of lethal fury, the man in the cape drove his sword through the brother.

When the force of the blow drove the brother back a step, a shaft of moonlight fell across his face under in the cowl of the hood.

And then the feeling slammed into her with full recognition.

Nicci's eyes went wide. She screamed.

--]--- 522

"Kahlan. Stop."

Kahlan's eyes twitched up in shock. She saw his face in the moonlight. In that same instant, he heard Nicci scream.

Kahlan recoiled, her hand flying from the hilt of the Sword of Truth as if she had been struck by lightning.

She fell back with a horrified shriek.

Richard seized the blade of the sword, his sword, to keep the weight from twisting it in him. She had driven it through him almost up to the cross guard. Warm blood ran down the blade onto his fingers.

"Richard!" Kahlan cried. "Nooo! Nooo!"

Richard felt his knees hit the stone floor. He was surprised it didn't hurt more to have a sword through him. It was the shock of it, mostly, that had scrambled his mind. It was hard to think. He struggled not to fall forward, fall on the blade and wrench it through his insides. The room seemed to be moving.

"Pull it out," he whispered.

He wanted it out. As if that would help. He wanted the awful thing out. He could feel the razor sharp edges all the way through him. He could feel it sticking out his back.

Kahlan, nearly hysterical, scrambled to do as he asked. Richard saw Cara limping up out of the darkness. She seized his shoulders as Kahlan drew out the blade in one swift, panicked yank, as if she hoped the action would somehow undo what she had done.

"What happened?" Cara cried. "What did you do?"

The world seemed to tip and whirl. Richard could feel the sickeningly wet warmth of his blood soaking down him. He could feel his weight against Cara. Kahlan hovered close.

"Richard! Oh, dear spirits, no. This can't be happening. It can't." Panicked tears streamed down her beautiful face. He couldn't understand what she was doing here. Why was she in the Old World? What was she doing in the emperor's palace?

He couldn't help smiling at seeing her.

He wondered if she had seen his statue before he destroyed it.

He wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

No, it was Kahlan's only chance at freedom. His only chance to break Nicci's spell.

Nicci was still running toward them.

"Help me, Nicci," Richard called. It came out as little more than a whisper. "I need you to save me, Nicci. Please."

Even if it was no more than a whisper, Nicci heard his plea.

--]--- Nicci had never run so fast. Terror had her in its fierce grip. Kahlan had stabbed her sword through him. It was a terrible mistake. It was all such a terrible mistake. Nicci had brought such pain to them both. It was her fault.

Even in her shock, Nicci knew with clarity what she must do.

She could heal him. Kahlan was there. Nicci couldn't begin to imagine why, or how, but she was. With Kahlan there, Nicci could break the spell. Once the spell was broken, Nicci could use her gift. She could heal Richard. It was all right. She could save him. It would be all right. She could fix it. She could.

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She could do something right and help-really help-for once. She could help them both.

An arm swept out of the darkness and hooked her by the neck, taking her from her feet. She cried out as she was yanked into the blackness. She could feel the bulge of hard muscles as she clawed at the arm. The man stank. She could feel his lice ticking against her face as they sprang at her.

Terror seized her. Such sudden and intense terror was an unfamiliar sensation, smothering her mind.

She dug her heels into the stone as he drew her back into the black labyrinth. She kicked furiously at him. She tried to draw her dacra from her sleeve, but he seized her arm and twisted it behind her back.

His forearm crushed against her exposed throat, choking off her air as he lifted her from her feet.

Nicci couldn't breathe. He chortled with glee as he dragged her into the darker recesses of the rooms beneath Jagang's palace.

--]--- Their eyes met just when she had been abruptly and violently snatched into the darkness. Richard saw in those eyes something important, saw that Nicci intended to help him. But she was gone.

Cara desperately clutched his shoulders as he lay back against her. He was cold. She was warm.

Kahlan fell back, writhing in the darkness. She clawed at her throat. He could hear her choking.

"Mother Confessor! Mother Confessor! What's wrong?"

Richard reached up and seized Cara behind her head. He pulled her face close.

"Someone has Nicci. They're choking her. Cara-you have to go save Nicci, or Kahlan will die. And Nicci is the only one who can heal me. Go. Hurry."

He felt Cara nodding before he released her head.

"I understand" was all she said as she gently, but swiftly, laid him back on the cold stone.

And then she was gone.

It was wet. He didn't know if it was blood, or water. They were underground, in the nether reaches of the Retreat. Through open beams where the flooring above hadn't been laid, moonlight flooded down to light Kahlan struggling not far away. He could see, then, as she fought an invisible foe, that it was water. That's what it was. Not blood. Water. The palace was next to the river. It was wet in the little rooms and halls down in the bottom.

"Kahlan," he murmured. She didn't respond. "Hold on. . ."

Gripping his abdomen, holding the wound closed lest his insides burst out, he inched his way through the water, across the cold stone. The pain had finally and firmly arrived. He could feel the terrible damage inside. He tried to blink away the tears of hot agony. He had to hold on. Icy sweat drenched his face. Kahlan had to hold on.

His hand, covered in blood, reached out to her. His fingers found hers. She hardly responded, but at least her fingers moved. He was thankful beyond words that her fingers moved.

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It had been a good plan. He was sure it was. It would have worked, if only someone hadn't snatched Nicci. Would have worked.

It seemed a stupid way to die, really. He thought it should be somehow more . . . grand.

Not in a dark, cold, wet palace underground.

He wished he could tell Kahlan that he loved her, and that she hadn't killed him but that he had done it. It was his doing, not hers. He'd just used her in his plan. It would have worked.

"Kahlan," he whispered, not knowing if in her stillness she could hear him any longer. "I love you. No one else. Just you. I'm glad we had our time together. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

--]--- Richard opened his eyes and groaned in agony. He wanted it to end. It hurt too much. Now, he just wanted it to end. It hadn't worked. He would have to pay the price. But he wanted the sickening, ripping, terrifying pain to end.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He looked and saw Kahlan sprawled on the wet floor. She wasn't moving.

A shadow fell across him.

"Well, well. Richard Cypher." Neal chuckled. "Imagine that." He chuckled again as he glanced at Kahlan. "Who's the woman?"

Richard could sense the Sword of Truth, sense its magic. It wasn't far from his fingers.

"Don't know. She's killed me. Must be one of yours."

Richard's fingers found the sword. They curled around the wire-wound hilt.

Neal stepped on the blade. "Can't have any of that. You've caused enough trouble."

A glow ignited around Neal's fingers. He was conjuring magic. Lethal magic. Richard, in his barely conscious condition, despite his need, could not focus his mind, could not call forth his own ability to do anything to stop Neal. At least, the pain would end. At least, Kahlan wouldn't think it was she who had killed him.

Richard heard a sudden, terrible, bone-snapping crack. Neal dropped heavily to his knees.

Richard, his hand already around the hilt, pulled the sword from underneath the man's legs and in one mighty lunge, ran it through Neal's heart.

Neal looked up in surprise, his eyes glassy. Richard saw then that the man was as good as dead before the blade had run him through. Neal's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the side as Richard yanked the sword free.

Standing behind Neal was the woman Richard had helped. She had bandaged her leg. In both hands, she held the marble hand of the woman Richard had carved. She had crushed Neal's skull with her keepsake of the statue.

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CHAPTER 69

Richard heard footfalls splashing toward him down the wet hallway. The woman had gone to find help. Maybe she had found it.

In the rooms and hallways in the distance, Richard could hear occasional screams as blasts of magic exploded through the night, as people were injured and killed.

A woman appeared in the moonlight. "Richard? Richard?"

Richard squinted in the darkness. "Who are you?" he managed to whisper.

She rushed to his side and fell to her knees. She gasped at seeing Kahlan sprawled on the floor close to him.

"What happened to the Mother Confessor?"

Richard frowned. She knew Kahlan.

"Who are you?"

She looked back at him. "I'm a Sister. Sister Alessandra. I've been in the city

for a while, looking for Nicci, and-never mind. A woman found me just down

the hall-and said you were hurt. The man who carved the statue. I was trying

desperately to get to you earlier, but I couldn't get near-there I go again. Tell me

where you're hurt. I can try to heal you."

"I was run through with a sword."

She was still and silent for a moment.

"Under my hands."

She looked then, and spoke a prayer under her breath. "I think I can help. I feared-"

"I need Nicci to do it."

Sister Alessandra glanced about. "Nicci? Where is she, then? I've been searching for her. Ann sent me to find her."

Richard's eyes fell on the still form of Kahlan. "Can you help her?"

He could see the woman's eyes look away from his. "No; I can't. She's linked by magic to Nicci. I met her before, and she told me about it. I can do nothing through the shield of Nicci's link."

"Is she . . . is she still.. ."

The woman looked and then leaned back over him. "She's alive, Richard."

He closed his eyes in relief, and in pain.

"Lie still," she said.

"But I need Nicci to-"

"You're bleeding. This is bad, Richard. In a short time more, you will have lost too much blood. If I wait, no one will be able to heal you. You will have slipped too far beyond this world for any gift to help you. I can't wait.

"Besides, I came to try to stop Nicci. I know her better than anyone. You can't put your life in her hands. You can't put your faith in her."

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"It's not faith. I know-"

"She's a Sister of the Dark. I'm the one who led her down that dark road. I came to try to lead her back. Until and unless that time comes, you can't trust her. Now, you've not much time. Do you want to live, or not?"

It had all gone for nothing. He felt a tear run from the corner of his eye and across his cheek.

"I choose life," he said.

"I know," she whispered with a smile. "I saw the statue. Now, move your hands for me. I need to have mine there."

Richard let his hands slip to his sides as hers covered his wound. He felt helpless. He could focus on nothing but the searing pain.

He felt magic tingle into him, following the damage down deep inside him. He clenched his teeth as he held in a cry.

"Hold on," she whispered. "This is bad. It will hurt, but then in a while it will be all right."

"I understand," he said. He gasped sharply. "Do it, then."

The pain of her magic seared into him like white-hot coals thrown on bare flesh. He almost cried out, but then the pain abruptly ceased. Richard lay with his eyes closed, panting, waiting for it to start again. He felt her hands slip from him.

Richard opened his eyes and saw that Sister Alessandra's eyes were opened wide. For an instant, he wondered why.

And then he saw a foot of steel jutting from her chest. Her fingers went to her throat as blood gushed from her open mouth. A silent scream formed on her lips.

A bony hand shoved her aside.

She had been impaled on the sword Richard had used to fight Kahlan. His hand blindly went for the hilt he knew was there, but a foot kicked the Sword of Truth aside.

Death's own skull grinned down at him.

"You are a troublesome man, Richard Cypher," came the grating voice from the darkness above. "But at last, that trouble is ended."

The tall angular figure in robes and a creased cap towered above him as he lay helpless on the cold wet floor.

"This little rebellion of yours will be crushed, I can promise you that much, before you die. Their foolish little tantrum will be brought to an end. The people will soon come to their senses. Your kind appeals only to the extremist fringe. Most people see their duty to their fellow man. Your efforts have been for nothing."

Brother Narev swept his arm around, as if in introduction.

"An appropriate place for you to die, don't you think, Richard? These rooms are the future questioning chambers. You eluded the chambers once, but not this time. You will die in one as you should have died in one before.

"I, on the other hand, will live here a long, long time, and see the Order bring morality to the world. Down here, in these chambers, radicals like you will confess their wickedness. I just wanted you to know, before you are embraced in the Keeper's cold arms for all eternity."

Brother Narev's skeletal hands clawed as he called forth his magic. Richard saw white-hot light blossom around the high priest's hands and expand downward. Richard squeezed Kahlan's hand as he watched the white light of death come for him.

The bloom of light turned a honey color. As if the air had thickened, the light slumped off to the sides.

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A howl of fury grew in Narev's throat. His shook his fists in rage.

"You have the gift of a wizard! Who are you?"

"I am your worst nightmare. I am a thinking man who can't be deluded by your lies, any more than I can be burned by your foul magic."

Brother Narev tried to smash his foot down on Richard's face, but Richard was able to deflect the blow. He seized Narev's ankle. The man caught his balance and pulled madly to get free. The effort of holding on felt as if it ripped the wound through Richard's insides. He tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped from the wet leather.

Once free, and out of Richard's reach, Narev bent and seized the hilt of the sword lodged in the Sister's back. He tugged but it didn't come completely out. He growled in fury, his boots slipping on the slimy floor, as he yanked on the sword.

Richard knew that, once armed, Narev would be a swift executioner.

With all his strength, Richard lunged at the man's legs. Brother Narev toppled back onto the wet floor. Richard, his middle wrenched in torture, threw himself atop Narev's legs to hold him down. Bony fingers clawed at Richard's face, trying to gouge his eyes. Richard turned his head away. With fierce effort, he clutched at the heavy robes, dragging himself up the man's body, ignoring the blows to his face as he did so.

He seized Brother Narev by the throat. Brother Narev's bony fingers closed savagely around Richard's throat. Both men growled with the effort of trying to strangle each other to death. Richard twisted his head, trying to prevent Narev from getting a death grip, while at the same time trying to get his own thumbs over Narev's windpipe so he could choke off his air.

Narev tried to roll, to throw Richard off. Richard spread his legs to make it harder for Narev to flip him over, and held tight as the man twisted and fought. He could feel his insides tearing.

Richard had wielded a chisel and hammer for the Order for months. He was stronger, but he was also losing a lot of blood, and that strength was fading. He squeezed with all his might. The fingers at his throat loosened a little.

The man's eyes bulged as Richard finally managed to start to choke the life out of him. Bony hands thumped at Richard's shoulders.

The hands suddenly and fiercely seized Richard by his hair.

Narev freed a leg and brought his knee up into Richard's wound.

The world went white with pain.

--]--- Nicci woke, dazed, to the sound of a low, wicked laugh. She knew the voice. She knew the smell. Kadar Kardeef.

She heard a snapping, popping, hissing sound. A torch, she realized. He whipped it around in front of her face, so close she could feel the terrible heat against her flesh. Burning pitch dripped off, falling on her leg.

Nicci screamed in pain as the pitch burned into the flesh of her thigh.

"What goes around, comes around," Kadar said in her ear.

"I don't care what you do to me," Nicci cried in rage. "I'm glad I burned you. I'm glad you've had to beg."

"Oh you'll be begging, too, before long. You may not think so, but you'll be

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surprised what fire makes a person do. You will yet know what it was like. You will yet beg."

With all her might, Nicci struggled against him. She could undo the spell, if only Kahlan were closer. So near, but so far.

The fire before her eyes sent terror scorching through her. She had only to snip the cord linking her to Kahlan. She could break the link. She didn't have to undo it in order to have her power back. Nicci could escape, then. It would cost Kahlan her life, but Nicci would have her power, and she could escape the flames.

But she would have to kill Kahlan to do it.

"Shall I bum your face, first, Nicci? Your lovely face? Or maybe I should start with your legs. Which shall it be? You pick."

Nicci panted as she struggled, trying to back away from the heat on her flesh. The hissing torch waved in front of her face. She knew she deserved such a fate; but she was driven to wild panic by the fear of it.

She didn't want to snip the link, to kill Kahlan, but she didn't want to die this way. She didn't want her flesh to burn.

"I say we start at the bottom, so we can hear your screams."

Kadar brought the torch down and touched it to the hem of her dress. Nicci screamed as the black cloth caught flame. Such fear was a new sensation for her; for the first time since she was very small, she had something she cared about, and didn't want to lose: life.

In a moment of stark terror, Nicci knew that no matter how much it was to hurt, no matter how frightening it was to be, she would not take Kahlan's life. Richard had given her the answer she had sought. She had taken too much already. In return for that lesson, she could not now violate it.

Even though Kahlan, linked to Nicci, was to suffer the same fate, would die the same agonizing death, Nicci would not be the one who inflicted it. She would not take Kahlan's life from her. Kadar would be bringing their death, but Nicci would not. She would not kill Kahlan to save herself.

Kadar Kardeef laughed as he watched her dress ignite. He held her in a firm grip Nicci could not escape.

Just then, a dark shape flew at her from midair, crashing into them both. They tumbled back, the air all around filled with fire. As Nicci rolled, it put the flaming dress out in the water.

The one who had crashed into them was just getting up, shaking her head as if to clear it. Nicci recognized her. It was the Mord-Sith, Cara.

Kadar sat up, saw the woman, and lunged at her with the torch.

Nicci threw herself at Kadar, grabbing the torch in both hands as she pushed it into the big man's face. The pitch splashed against his mask of rags. The cloth on his chest and around his head ignited with a loud whoosh.

Kadar screamed as the flames burned into his already melted flesh. Nicci had heard that heat to previously burned flesh was worse than the first burning. By the sound of his screams, it appeared to be true.

Nicci snatched Cara's hand as the woman was regaining her feet. "Hurry! I must get to Richard!"

Outside the room where Kadar's shrieks fell to strangled whimpers as the flames suffocated him, Cara seized Nicci by the hair and held her Agiel inches from her face.

"Give me one reason why I should trust you with Lord Rahl's life."

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Nicci gazed into Cara's eyes. "Because I saw his statue, and I understand, now, how wrong I've been. Have you ever been wrong, Cara? Really wrong? Can you ever understand what it's like to realize you've been unthinkingly serving evil, and hurting good people? Can you understand that Richard has shown me there is something to live for?"

--]--- Nicci found Richard lying on his back, unconscious, or at least close to it. His head was pillowed on a marble hand. Kahlan lay beside him, clinging to him, weeping as his life bled away.

Nicci was shocked to see the bodies strewn on the floor around them. Sister Alessandra, Brother Neal, Brother Narev. She knew by the way Richard looked that there was precious little time-if it was not already too late.

Nicci knelt beside Kahlan. The woman was in abject misery, hanging by the last threads of desperate hope over the black brink of despair. She had come all this way, wanting to be with him, willing to suffer any end to do so. And here he lay, the lifeblood draining out of the one she loved most in life, knowing it was by her hand.

Nicci took Kahlan by her shoulders and gently pulled her back. Kahlan looked up in confusion, hatred, and hope.

"Kahlan, I need to remove the spell from you if I'm to help him. There's not much time."

"I don't trust you. Why would you help?"

"Because I owe it to him-to both of you."

"You have brought nothing but suffering and-"

Cara took Kahlan's arm. "Mother Confessor, you don't have to trust her. Trust me. I'm telling you that Nicci might be able to save him. I believe she will do her best. Please, let her do it."

"Why should I trust her with his last few minutes of his life?"

"Please, let Nicci have the chance Lord Rahl once gave me."

Kahlan searched Cara's eyes for a moment, then turned to Nicci.

"I know what it's like to be where he is now. I've been there. I chose life. Now, he must. What do I need to do?"

"You and Richard have already done enough." Nicci took Kahlan's tearstained face in her hands. "Just be still, and let me do this."

The woman was shivering in misery. Her long hair was matted and dripping wet. She was covered in Richard's blood. She could do no more for him, and she knew it.

Nicci had to.

As Kahlan gazed into her eyes, Nicci re-ignited the connecting cord of magic, hoping that she had enough time.

Kahlan went rigid with the shock of pain it caused. Nicci knew exactly how it felt, because she felt the same pain.

Milky light connected both women, heart to heart. Its wavering glow grew to blinding brightness, taking the pain to a new level in intensity.

Kahlan's mouth opened in a silent cry. Her green eyes widened with the torment flooding through them both-as the root of magic embedded in every fiber of their two beings vibrated in response to the call of the light.

Nicci placed her hands over her heart, in that incandescent shaft of light, and began to withdraw her power.

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CHAPTER 70

Richard pulled a shuddering breath as he opened his eyes. Somehow, he was lying in a position that didn't hurt. He feared to: move, lest the crushing pain return.

How could that be? He'd been run through with a sword.

The darkness around him was still and quiet. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of battle raging on. The ground beneath him shuddered with some great impact.

There were people around him. Bodies lay on the wet floor. He realized he was on a board, keeping him up out of the water. He was covered in a warm cloak. He could see the dark hunched shapes of people huddled around in the little room.

Under his fingers lay the hilt of the Sword of Truth. Because the storm of magic was calmed, he knew the sword was in its scabbard.

He looked up, and through the openings between beams, through broken stone and splintered wood, and could see the rosy blush of dawn.

"Kahlan?" he whispered.

Three figures in the room sprang up, as if stone had suddenly come to life.

The closest leaned in. "I'm here." She took up his hand.

With his other hand, he reluctantly probed for his wound. He couldn't find it. He felt no pain, only a lingering ache.

Another figure leaned in. "Lord Rahl? Are you awake?"

"What happened?"

"Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I stabbed you. It was all my fault. I should have taken an instant to be sure before I did it. I'm so sorry."

Richard frowned. "Kahlan, I let you win."

Silence greeted him.

"Richard," Kahlan finally said, "you don't have to try to ease my guilt. I know it's my fault. I ran you through with the sword."

"No," Richard insisted, "I let you win."

Cara patted his shoulder. "Of course you did, Lord Rahl. Of course you did."

"No, really."

When the third figure turned to him, Richard's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"How do you feel?" Nicci asked in that silken voice he knew so well.

"Did you remove the link to Kahlan?"

Nicci raised her hand and made a scissors motion with two fingers. "Gone for good."

Richard let out a breath. "Then I feel fine." He tried to sit up, but Nicci's hand restrained him.

"Richard, I can never ask your forgiveness because I can never return what I

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stole from you, but I want you to know that I now understand how wrong I've been. My whole life, I have been blind. I'm not making an excuse. It's just that I want you to know that you have restored my vision. In giving me the answer I sought, you gave me my life. You gave me a reason to want to live."

"And what did you see, Nicci?"

"Life. You sculpted it so big that even someone who had so blindly served evil, as I had done, could see it. You must no longer prove yourself to me. Now, it is for me, and those here you have inspired, to prove ourselves to you."

"You and they have already begun, or I would not be alive."

"So . . . you are a Sister of the Light again?" Kahlan asked.

Nicci shook her head. "No. I am Nicci. My ability as a sorceress is mine; it is who I am. My ability does not enslave me to others because they want it. It's my life. It does not belong to anyone---except maybe to you two.

"You both have shown me the value of life, the rationale of freedom. If I am to serve beside anyone, now, it will be beside others who hold dear the same values."

Richard placed his hand over Nicci's. "Thank you for saving my life. For a while there, I thought I'd made a mistake when I let Kahlan run me through."

"Richard," Kahlan objected, "you don't have to try to assuage my guilt by saying that."

Nicci was gazing into his eyes, even as she addressed Kahlan. "He's not. He's telling you the truth. I saw him do it. He was forcing me to make a choice to save him, so that I would have to break the spell holding you. I'm sorry you had to endure such a thing, Richard; I'd already made the choice-the moment I saw your statue."

Richard tried to sit up again. Nicci restrained him again.

"It is going to take time for you to recover fully. You are still suffering the lingering effects of the injury. Just because you are alive, that doesn't mean it won't take some time before you are completely recovered. You have gone through a formidable ordeal. You lost a lot of blood. You will need to rebuild your strength. You could yet die if you don't go easy."

"All right," Richard conceded. He sat up carefully with Kahlan's help. "I'll keep your words in mind, but I still have to get up there." He turned to Kahlan. "By the way, what are you doing all the way down here? How did you know where I was? What's happening to the north, in the New World?"