"Is that what you wish me to do, then, Excellency? Weep?"

His voice turned bitter as he flopped onto his side beside her. "No. I wish you to react."

"But I am," she said as she stared up at the canopy. "It is simply not the reaction you wish."

He sat up. "What's the matter with you, woman?"

She gazed up at him a moment, and then turned her eyes away.

"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "But I think I must find out."

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Chapter 14

Jagang gestured. "Take off your clothes. You're spending the night. It's been too long." This time, it was he who stared off at the walls. "I've missed you in my bed, Nicci."

She didn't answer. She did not believe that in his bed he missed anything. She didn't believe she could conceive of him understanding what it was to miss a person. What he missed, she thought, was being able to miss someone.

Nicci sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed as she untangled herself from the black dress. She pulled it off over her head and then laid it out across the back of a padded leather chair. She reclaimed her underthings from the tangles of the bed covering and tossed them on the chair before drawing off her stockings and placing them, too, on the seat of the chair. He watched her body the whole time, watched her as she tended to her dress, smoothing it to straighten what he had done to it, watched the mysterious allure of a woman acting a woman.

When she had finished she turned back to him. She stood proudly, to let him see that which he could have only by force, and never as a willing gift. She could detect the sense of privation in his expression. This, was the only victory she could have: the more he took her by force, the more he understood that that was the only way he could ever have her, and the more it maddened him. She would just as soon die as willingly give him the satisfaction of that gift, and he knew the brutal truth of that.

He finally forced himself away from his private, bitter longing and looked up into her eyes. "Why'd you kill Kadar?"

She sat on the edge of the bed opposite him, just out of his easy reach, but within range of his lunge, and shrugged her bare shoulders.

"You are not the Order. The Order is no single man, but an ideal of equity. As such, it will survive any one person. You serve that ideal and the Order, for now, in the capacity of but a brute. The Order could use any brute to serve its purpose. You, Kadar, or another. I simply eliminated someone who might one day have been a threat to you before you can rise above your present role."

He grinned. "You expect me to believe that you were doing me a kindness? Now you mock me."

"If it pleases you to think so, then do."

Her smooth white limbs were a vivid contrast to the heavy, dark, variegated verdant bedcover and sheets. He lay back atop them against several rumpled pillows. immodestly displayed before her. His eyes looked even darker than usual.

"What's all this talk I keep hearing about 'Jagang the Just'?"

"Your new title. It is the thing that will save you, the thing that will win for you, the thing that will bring you more glory than anything else. Yet, in return for elimi 108

nating a future threat to your standing, and for making you a hero to the people, you draw my blood."

He put an arm behind his head. "Sometimes you make me believe the stories fat people tell, that you really are crazy."

"And if you kill everyone?"

"Then they will be dead."

"I have recently been through towns visited by your soldiers. It seems they didn't harm the people-at least, they didn't slaughter everyone in sight, as they did when fey began their march into the New World."

He lunged and seized a fistful of her hair. With a snarl, he yanked her onto her back beside him. She caught her breath as he rose up on an elbow and directed his disturbing gaze down into her eyes.

"It is your job to make examples of people, to show them that they must contribute to our cause; to make them fear the Imperial Order's righteous wrath. That is the task I assigned you."

"Is that so? Then why did the soldiers not make examples, too? Why did they let those towns be? Why did they not contribute to striking fear into the hearts of the people? Why didn't they lay waste to every city and town in their path?"

"And then who would I rule but my soldiers? Who would do the work? Who would make things? Who would grow the food? Who would pay tribute? To whom will I bring the hope of the Order? Who will there be to glorify the great Emperor Jagang, if I kill them all?"

He flopped onto his back. "You may be called Death's Mistress, but we can't have it your way and kill everyone. In this world you are bound to the Order's purpose. If people feel the Order's arrival can mean nothing but their death, they will resist to the end. They must know that it is only their resistance which will bring a swift and sure death. If they realize our arrival offers them a moral life, a life which puts man under the Creator and the welfare of man above all else, they will embrace us."

"You dealt death to this city," she taunted, forcing him to unwittingly prove the validity of what she had done. "Even though they chose the Order."

"I've given orders that any people of the city still alive be allowed to go back to their homes. The rampage is ended. The people here betrayed their promises and thus invited brutality; they saw it, but now that is finished and a new day of order has come. The old ideas of separate lands are over, as it was ended in the Old World. All people will be governed together, and will enter a new age of prosperity together-under the Imperial Order. Only those who resist will be crushed-not because they resist, but because, ultimately, they are traitors to the well-being of their fellow man and must be eliminated.

"Here, in Anderith, was the turning point in our struggle. Richard Rahl was at last cast out by the people themselves, who came to see the virtue of what we offer. No longer can he claim to represent them."

"Yet you came in and slaughtered-"

"The leaders here betrayed certain promises to me-who knows how much of the general population may have collaborated in that-and so the people had to pay a puce, but collectively they have also earned a place in the Order for their courage In emphatically rejecting Lord Rahl and the outdated, selfish, uninspired morals he offered them.

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"The tide has turned. People no longer have faith in Lord Rahl, nor can he now have any faith in them. Richard Rahl is a fallen leader."

Nicci smiled inwardly, a sad smile. She was a fallen woman, and Richard was a fallen man. Their fate was sealed.

"Perhaps here, in this one small place," she said, "but he is far from defeated. He is still dangerous. After all, you failed to gain everything you sought here in Anderith because of Richard Rahl. He not only denied you a clear victory by destroying vast stores of supplies and leaving the systems and services of production in total disarray, but he also slipped right through your fingers when you should have captured him."

"I will have him!"

"Really? I wonder." She watched his fist, and waited until it relaxed before she continued. "When will you move our forces north, into the Midlands?"

Jagang stroked his hand down his woolly chest. "Soon. I want to give them time to become careless, first. When they grow complacent, I will strike north.

"A great leader must read the nature of the battle, to be able to adjust his tactics. We will be liberators, now, as we move north into the Midlands, bringing the Creator's glory to the people. We must win the hearts and minds of the unconverted."

"You have decided this change? On your own? You do not consider the will of the Creator in your campaign?"

He glared at her insolence, as if to tell her she knew better than to even ask such a question.

"I am the emperor; I need not consult our spiritual guides, but since their. counsel is always welcome, I've already talked to the priests. They've spoken favorably about my plans. Brother Narev thinks it wise and has given his blessing. You had better keep to your job of extinguishing any ideas of opposition. If you don't follow my orders, well, no one will miss one Sister. I have others."

She was not moved by his threats, real as they were. By his suspicious look, he was beginning to understand her vision, too.

"What you are doing is fitting," she said, "but it must be cut up into little pieces the people can chew. They do not have the Order's wisdom in seeing what is best for them-the public rarely does. Even one as bullheaded as you must be able to see that I have anticipated your plans by helping those you can't afford to kill to understand that you are sparing them out of your sense of justice. Word of such deeds will win hearts."

He cast her a sidelong glance. "I am the Order's cleansing fire. The fire is a necessary conflagration, but not the important end-it is merely the means to the end. From the ashes I, Jagang, create, new order can sprout and grow. It is this end, this glorious new age of man, that warrants the means. In this, it is my responsibility not yours-to decide justice, when and how I will dispense it, and who will receive it."

She grew impatient with his vanity. Scorn seeped into her voice. "I have simply put a name to it-Jagang the Just-and begun to spread your new title for you when the opportunity arose. I sacrificed Kadar to that end, for all the same reasons you've listed. It had to be done now in order for it to have the necessary time to spread and flourish, or the New World would soon harden irreversibly against the Order. I chose the time and place, and by using Kadar Kardeef's life-a war hero's life-proved your devotion to the cause of the Order above all else. You benefit.

"Any brute could ignite the conflagration; this new title shows your moral

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vision-another manifestation of worth over other men. I have planted the vital seed that will make you a hero to the common people and, even more important, to the priests. Are you going to pretend you think the title inadequate? Or that it will not serve you well?

"What I alone have done will help win what your powerful army cannot: willing allegiance without a battle, at a cost of nothing. With Kadar's life, I, Nicci, have made you more than you could make of yourself. I, Nicci, have given you the reputation of honor. I, Nicci, have made you into a leader people will trust because they believe you to be just."

He brooded for a time, turning his gaze from her hot glare. His arm finally fell own and his fingers tenderly trailed down her thigh. The touch was an admission for him-an admission that she was right, even if he would not say the words.

After a few moments he yawned, and then his eyes closed. His breathing evened, and he started to drift off into a nap, as was his way with her. He expected her to remain right where she was, so that when he awoke she would be available to him. She supposed she could leave. But it was not time. Not yet.

He finally awoke an hour later. Nicci was still staring up at the canopy, thinking about Richard. There seemed to be one piece missing in her plan, one more thing that she felt needed to fall into place.

In his sleep Jagang had rolled over on his side facing away from her. Now, he turned back. His dark eyes took her in with a look of lust rekindled. He drew her close. His body was as warm as a rock in the sun and only slightly softer.

"Pleasure me," he commanded in a husky growl that would have frightened any other woman into doing as ordered.

"Or what? You will kill me? If I feared that, I would not be here. This is by force, not consent. I will not willingly take part in it, nor will I allow you to deceive yourself into believing that I want you."

He backhanded her, knocking her across the bed. "You take part willingly!" He seized her by the wrist and dragged her back toward him. "Why else would you be here?"

"You ordered me here."

He smirked. "And you came when you could have fled."

She opened her mouth, but she had no answer she could put into words, no answer he would understand.

With a grin of victory, he fell on her and pressed his lips to hers. As much as it hurt her, for Jagang this was gentle behavior. He had told her several times that she was the only woman he ever cared to kiss. He seemed to believe that by expressing those emotions for her, she could have no alternative but to surrender feelings in kind, as if spoken feelings were currency with which he could purchase affection on demand.

It was only the beginning of a long night-along ordeal-she knew. She would have to endure his forceful violation several more times before morning. His question haunted the distant place in her mind.

Morning came, accompanied by the dull throbbing of a headache from her succeeding beating, and the sharper aches from the places where he'd struck her when he came to find that what he thought was her willing submission was but a delusion that left him more angered than before. The pillows were stained with her blood. It had

g been a long night of rare sensations experienced. -HIre knew she was evil, and deserved to be violated in such a brutal fashion. She

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could offer no moral objection to it; even in the terrible things he did to her, Jagang was nowhere near as corrupt as she. Jagang erred in simple matters of the flesh, and that could only be expected all people were corrupt in the flesh-but because of her indifference to the suffering around her, she failed in matters of the spirit. That, she knew, was pure evil. That was why she deserved to suffer whatever he did to her. For the moment, that deep dark place within came close to being sated.

Nicci touched her mouth and found the cuts painful, but closed. The healing of wounds, though, did not offer the warranted sensations of receiving them, so she resolved to have one of the other Sisters heal her, rather than give him the satisfaction of witnessing her suffering the inconvenience of the injures.

With that, her mind turned to thoughts of Sister Lidmila.

Nicci realized that Jagang wasn't in bed beside her. She sat up and saw him in a chair not far away, watching her.

She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, speckled with droplets of dried blood. "You are a pig."

"You can't get enough of me. Despite what you say, Nicci, you wish to be with me. If not, why would you stay?"

Those nightmare eyes of his watched her, trying to find a way into her mind. There was none. He could no longer be a nightmare for her. Richard guarded her mind.

"Not for the reasons you wish to believe. I stay because the ultimate cause of the Order is a moral one. I wish it to succeed. I wish the suffering of life's helpless victims to end. I wish everyone to finally be equal and to finally live with everything they need. I have worked nearly my entire life for those goals. The Order can see to it that such a fair world comes to be. If I must endure you-even aid you-for such an end, then it is but an insignificant gnat to swallow."

"You sound so very noble, but I think there is something more basic behind it. I think you would have left if you could, or"-he smiled-"if you could, you would have left if you really wanted to. Which is it, then, Nicci?"

She didn't want to contemplate the question. Her head hurt.

"What's all the talk about you building a palace?"

"So you heard, then." He took a deep breath and sighed wistfully. "It will be the grandest palace ever built. A fitting place for the Emperor of the Imperial Order, for the man who rules both the Old and the New Worlds."

"The man who wants to rule. Lord Rahl stands in your way. How many times has he bested you, now?"

Jagang's eyes flashed a rage she knew could turn violent. Richard had frustrated Jagang a number of times. Even if Richard hadn't been victorious over Jagang, he had stung him. Quite an accomplishment, really, for such a tiny force against the

array of the Imperial Order. A man like Jagang hated the humiliation of a sting almost as much as he would hate to be gored.

"I will eliminate Richard Rahl, don't you worry," Jagang said in a low growl'

She changed the subject back to what she really wanted to know about. "Sine when has the all conquering Emperor Jagang turned soft and wanted to live in splendor?"

"Ali, but I am Jagang the Just, now. Remember?" He returned to the bed and flopped down beside her. "Nicci, I'm sorry I hurt you. I never want to hurt you, but you make me do it. You know I care about you."

You care about me yet you heat me? You care about me, yet you never bothered

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to tell me of such an enormous project as the building of a palace? I am insignificant to you.

"I told you, I'm sorry I hurt you-but that was your own fault and you know it." He spoke the words almost lovingly. With mention of the palace, his face had softened into a visionary look. "It's only proper and fitting that I at last have the prestige of such a monumental edifice."

"You, the man who was content in tents in the, field, now wants to live in a resplendent building? Why?"

"Because once I bring the New World under the guidance of the Order, I will owe it to all the people, as their leader, to be seen in a majestic setting . . . but it will have more than simple splendor."

"But of course," she sniped.

He gathered up her hand. "Nicci, I will proudly wear the title Jagang the Just. You're right, the time has come for such a move. I was only angered because you

wrongly made that move without first discussing it with me. But let us forget that, now."

She said nothing. He gripped her hand more tightly, to show his sincerity, she supposed.

You're going to love the palace, when it's finished." He ran the back of the fingers of his other hand tenderly down her cheek. "We will all live there for a very long time."

The words struck a cord in her. "A very long time?"

For the first time she realized there was something more to this than simply his vanity of wanting a palace after Richard had denied him the Palace of the Prophets. He wanted what else Richard had denied him. Could it be . . .

She looked up into his face, searching for the answer. He simply smiled at the questions in her eyes.

"Construction has already begun," he said, turning his words away from those questions. "Architects and great builders from all over the Old World have gathered to work on it. Everyone wants to be part of such a grand project."

"And Brother Narev?" she probed. "What does he think of building such a frivolous monument to one man when there is important work to be done for so many needy people?"

"Brother Narev and his disciples greatly favor the project." Jagang flashed her a sly smile. "They will live there, too, of course."

Understanding washed over her.

"He's going to spell the new palace," she whispered in astonishment to herself.

Jagang only smiled as he watched her, clearly pleased with her reaction.

Brother Narev had been at the Palace of the Prophets almost as long as she, nearly one hundred and seventy years, but in all that time he seemed to have aged only ten or fifteen years-the same as she. No one but Nicci ever knew he was anything but a stablehand-they didn't know he was gifted.

In all that time, with her, along with everyone else, paying him little heed, he must have been studying the spell around the palace. From what she knew, most of Brother Narev's disciples had been young wizards from the Palace of the Prophets; they had access to the vaults. They, too, could have added information that helped him. But could he really do such a thing?

"Tell me about the palace," she said, preferring his voice to the silent scrutiny of nightmare eyes.

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He kissed her first, the way a man kisses a woman, not the way a brute kisses a victim. She endured it with no more favor than any of the rest of it. He seemed not to notice, this time, and by the smile of his face, appeared to have enjoyed it.

"It will be a walk of nearly fifteen miles to walk all the halls." He swept a hand out and began to give shape to the grand palace in the air before them. As he went on, he stared off at his imaginary outline, hanging there in space.

"The world has never seen anything to match it. While I carry on with our work of bringing the hope of the Order to the New World, of bringing the true word of the Creator to the wicked and the greedy, of banishing the selfish ideals of the ancient religion of magic, back in my homeland the work of building the palace will go on.

"Quarries will be busy for years extracting all the rock that will go into the construction. The variety of stone will leave no doubt about the glory of the place. The marble will be the finest. The woods will be only the best. Every material going into the palace will be exceptional. The best craftsmen will shape it all into a grand structure."

"Yes, but, despite the fact that others may live there," she mocked in cool disdain, "it will be but a pompous monument to only one man: the great and powerful Emperor Jagang."

"No, it will be devoted to the glory of the Creator."

"Oh? And will the Creator be taking up residence there, too, then'?"

Jagang scowled at her blasphemy. "Brother Narev wishes the palace to be instructional to the people. He is contributing his spiritual guidance to the undertaking, and will personally oversee the construction while I cleanse the way for the Order."

That was what she wanted to know.

He stared off at the invisible shape still hanging in the air before them. His voice took on a reverent tone.

"Brother Narev shares my vision in this. He has always been like a father to me. He put the fire in my belly. His spiritual direction has been a lifelong inspiration. He allows me to stand at the fore, and take the glory of our victories, but I would be nothing without his moral teachings. What I win is only as the fist of the Order, and a fist is but one part of the whole, as we are all but insignificant fragments of society as a whole. You are right: many others could stand in my place for the Order. But it is my part to be the one to lead us. I would never do anything to betray the trust Brother Narev has placed in me-that would be like betraying the Creator Himself. He guides the way for all of us.

"I only thought to build a fitting palace for us all, a place from which to govern for the benefit of the people. It was Brother Narev who took up the dream and gave it moral meaning by envisioning everyone, when they see the vast structure, as seeing man's place in the new order-seeing that man can never live up to the glory of the Creator, and that, individually, he is but a meaningless member of the greater brotherhood of man and thus can have no greater part to play than to uplift all his brothers in need so all will thrive together. Yet, it will also be a place that will humble every man before it, by showing him his utter insignificance before the glory of his Creator, by showing man's depravity, his tortured, contorted, inferior nature, for all men in this world are such as this."

Nicci could almost see such a place when he spoke of it. It would indeed be a humbling inspiration to the people. He, came near to inspiring her with such talk, as Brother Narev had at one time inspired her.

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"This is why I have stayed," she whispered, "because the cause of the Order is righteous."

The piece that had been missing was now found.

In the quiet, Jagang kissed her again. She allowed him to finish it, and then pushed away from his embrace. With a distant smile, he watched as she rose and began dressing.

"You're going to love it there, Nicci. It will be a place befitting you."

"Oh? As the Slave Queen?"

"As a queen, if you wish it. I plan to give you the kind of authority you've never before had. We'll be happy there, you and I, truly happy. For a long, long time, we'll be happy there."

She drew a stocking up her leg. "When Sister Ulicia and the four with her found away to leave you, I chose to ignore their discovery and stay, because I know the Order is the only moral course for mankind. But now I-"

"You stayed because you would be nothing without the Order."

She looked away from his eyes. She tugged her dress down over her head, poked her arms through the sleeves, and worked the skirt over her hips. "I am nothing without the Order, and I am nothing with it. No one is. We are all inadequate, miserable creatures; that is the nature of man; that is what the Creator teaches. But the Order shows man his duty to make a better life for the good of all."

"And I am the emperor of the Imperial Order!" His red face cooled more slowly than it had heated. He gestured vaguely in the hollow silence and he went on in a more mellow tone. `The world will be one under the Order. We'll be happy at the palace when it's finished, Nicci. You and I, under the spiritual guidance of our priests. You'll see. In time, when-'

"I'm leaving." She drew on a boot.

"I will not permit it."

Nicci paused at pulling on her other boot and glanced up into his dark eyes. She flicked a finger toward a stone vase on a table against the far wall. Light flashed. The vase exploded in a cloud of dust and chips with a sound that rocked the room. The draperies shuddered. The panes in the windows chattered.

When the dust had settled, she said, "You will not permit it?" She bent forward and began doing up the laces on her boots.

Jagang strolled over to the table and dragged his fingers through the dust that was all that remained of the stone vase. He turned back to her in all his naked, hairy, imperial glory.

"Are you threatening me? Do you actually think you could use your power against me?"

"I do not think it"-she yanked the laces tight-"I know it. The truth is I choose not to."

He struck a defiant pose. "And why is that?"

Nicci stood and faced him. "Because, as you said, the Order needs you, or rather, a brute like you. You serve the ends of the Order-you are their fist. You bring that cleansing fire. You perform that function very well. It could even be said that you perform that service with extraordinary talent.

"You are Jagang the Just. You see the wisdom in the title I have given you, and will use it to further the cause of the. Order. That is why I choose not to use any power against you. It would be like using my power against the Order, against my own duty to the future of mankind."

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"Then why do you want to leave?"

"Because I must." She gave him a look of icy determination, and deadly threat. "Before I go, 1 will be spending some time with Sister Lidmila. You are to immediately and completely withdraw from her mind and remain out of it the entire time I am with her. We will use your tents, since you are not using them. You will see to it that everyone leaves us entirely alone for however long it takes us. Anyone who enters, without my express permission, will die. That includes you. You have my oath, as a Sister of the Dark, on that. When I'm finished, and after I leave, you may do what you will with Sister Lidmilakill her if that is your wish, although I don't see why you would want to bother, since she is going to be doing you a great service."

"I see." His huge chest rose. He let the deep breath out slowly. "And how long will you be gone, this time, Nicci?"

"This is not like the other times. This is different."

"How long?"

"Perhaps only a short time. Perhaps a very long time. I don't yet know. Leave me alone to do as I must, and, if I can, I will one day return to you."

He gazed into her eyes, but he could not look into her mind. Another man protected her mind, and kept her thoughts her own.

In all the time she had spent with Richard, Nicci had never learned that which she hungered most to know, but in one way, she had learned too much. Most of the time she was able to entomb that unwanted knowledge under the numb weight of indifference. Occasionally, though, it would, like now, unexpectedly rise up out of its tomb to seize her. When it did, she was helpless in its grip, and could do nothing but wait for the oblivion of numb detachment to bury it yet again.

Staring into the long dark night of Jagang's inhuman eyes, eyes that revealed nothing but the bleakness of his soul, Nicci touched her finger to the gold ring Jagang had ordered pierced through her lower lip to mark her as his personal slave. She released a thread-thin channel of Subtractive Magic, and the ring ceased to exist.

"And where are you going, Nicci?"

"I am going to destroy Richard Rahl for you."

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Chapter 15

Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander had been able to talk and smile his way past the other soldiers, but these were not moved by his explanation that he was Richard's grandfather. He supposed he should have entered the camp in the daylight-it would have avoided a lot of the suspicion-but he was tired and hadn't thought it would be that much trouble.

The soldiers were properly suspicious, which greatly pleased him, but he was weary and had more important things to do than answer questions: he wanted to ask them, instead.

"Why do you want to see him?" the bigger guard repeated.

"I told you, I'm Richard's grandfather."

"This is the Richard Cypher, you're talking about, who you now say-"

"Yes, yes, that was his name when he grew up and that's what I'm used to calling him, but I meant Richard Rahl, who he is now. You know, Lord Rahl, your leader? I would think being the grandfather of someone as important as your Lord Rahl would accord me some respect. Maybe even a hot meal."

"I could say I'm Lord Rahl's brother," the man said, keeping a tight grip on the bit in the mouth of Zedd's horse, "but that doesn't make it so."

Zedd sighed. "How very true."

As vexing as it was, Zedd, at some dim inward level, was pleased to see that the men weren't stupid, nor easily duped.

"But I'm also a wizard," Zedd added, drawing low his eyebrows for dramatic effect. "If I wasn't friendly, I could simply do you up crisp and be on my way past the both of you."

"And if I wasn't friendly," the man said, "I could give the signal-now that we've let you venture in this far so that you're completely surrounded-and the dozen archers hiding all around you in the dark would let fly the arrows that are at this moment trained on you, as they have been ever since you approached our encampment."

"Ah," Zedd said, holding up a finger in triumph, "all very well and good, but-"

"And even if I were to die in a final flame of service to the Lord Rahl, those arrows will let fly without me needing to give any signal."

Zedd harrumphed, lowering his finger, but inwardly he smiled. Here he was, First Wizard, and if he weren't entering a friendly camp, he would have been bested in this game of banter by a simple soldier.

Or maybe not.

"In the first place, Sergeant, I am, as I said, a wizard, and so I knew of the archers and have already dealt with the threat by spelling their arrows so they will fly no truer and with no more deadly effect than wet dishrags. I have nothing to fear

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from them. In the second place, even if I'm lying-which is precisely what you are considering at this very moment-you have made a mistake by telling me of the threat, which enables me, as a wizard of great repute, to now use my magic to nullify it."

A slow smile came to the man's face. "Why, that's remarkable." He scratched his head. He looked to his partner and then back to Zedd. "You're right, that was exactly what I was thinking: that you could be lying about knowing the archers were back there in the dark."

"You see there, young man? You're not so smart after all."

"You're right, sir, I'm not. Here I was, so busy talking to you and being so intimidated by your wizardly powers and all, that I plumb forgot to tell you about what else was out there in the dark, watching you . . ."-the soldier's brow lowered-"and it would be a mite more trouble than any simple arrows, I dare say.

Zedd scowled down at the man. "Now see here-"

"Why don't you do as I ask and come down here in the light, where I can see you better, and answer some of our questions'?"

With a sigh of resignation, Zedd dismounted. He gave Spider a reassuring pat on her neck. Spider, a chestnut-colored mare, had a leggy black splotch on her creamy rump, from which she had acquired her name. Young, strong, and possessing an agreeably spirited nature, she made a pleasant traveling companion. The two of them

had been through a great deal together. `

Zedd stepped into the intimate circle of light from the watch fire. He turned his a hand up and brought a white-hot flame to life just above the flesh of his palm. The

two soldiers' eyes widened. Zedd scowled.

"But, I have my own fire, if you need to see better. Does this help you see things better, Sergeant?"

"Uh . . . why, yes it does, sir," the man stammered.

"Yes, it does indeed," a woman said as she stepped into the light. "Why didn't you simply use your Han and give a display of your craft in the first place?" She motioned into the darkness, as if signaling for others to stand down. She turned back with a smile that was no more than courteous. "Welcome, wizard."

Zedd bowed from the waist. "Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander, First Wizard, at your j service . . . ?"

"Sister Philippa, Wizard Zorander. I am aid to the Prelate."

She gestured and the sergeant took the reins from Zedd's hand to lead the horse away. Zedd clapped the man on the back to let him know there were no hard feelings, and then gave a similar pat to Spider to let her know it was all right to go with the men.

"Treat her especially well, Sergeant. Spider is a friend."

The sergeant saluted by tapping his fist to his heart. "She'll be treated as a friend, sir."

After the soldiers had led Spider away, Zedd said, "The Prelate? Which one?"

The narrow-jawed Sister clasped her hands together. "Prelate Verna, of course."

"Oh, yes, of course. Prelate Verna."

The Sisters of the Light didn't know Ann was still alive. At least, she had been ' alive when Zedd last saw her, several months past. Ann had written in her journey book, telling Verna that she was alive, but also asking her to keep that information x private for the time being. Zedd had been hoping that perhaps Ann had turned up at 1

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the D'Haran army camp, with her Sisters of the Light. He was sorry to learn she hadn't. It boded ill for her.

Zedd held no favor with the Sisters of the Light-a lifetime of disapproval was not easily forgottenbut he had come to respect Ann as a woman of self-discipline and resolve, even if he took a dim view of some of her convictions and past objectives. He knew that, at the least, he and Ann shared many important values. He didn't know about the rest of the Sisters, though.

Sister Philippa appeared middle-aged, but with Sisters that meant little. She might have lived at the Palace of the Prophets for only a year, or for centuries. With dark eyes and high cheekbones she was an exotic-looking woman. As in the Midlands, there were places in the Old World where the people had unique physical characteristics. Sister Philippa moved the way high-minded women tended to move, like a swan taken to human form.

"How may I be of service, Wizard Zorander?"

"Zedd will do. Is this Prelate of yours awake?"

"She is. This way, Zedd, if you please."

He fell in behind the woman as she glided off toward the dark shapes of tents. "Got anything to eat around here?"

She looked back over her shoulder. "This late?"

"Well, I've been traveling hard .... It's not really all that late, is it?"

In the dark, she assessed him briefly. "I don't believe it's ever too late, according to the teachings of the Creator. And you do look emaciated-from your travels, I'm sure." Her smile warmed a little. "Food is always at the ready; we have soldiers who are active through the night and need to be fed. I believe I could find something for you." She returned her gaze to the indiscernible path.

"That would be a kindness," Zedd said in a jovial voice as he scowled at her back. "And I'm not emaciated; I'm wiry. Most women find lean men appealing."

"Do they`? I never knew that."

Sisters of the Light were a lofty lot, Zedd thought ruefully. For thousands of years it had been a death sentence for them to even set foot in the New World. Zedd had always been a little more lenient-but not by much. In the past, the Sisters only came into the New World to steal boys with the gift-they claimed to be saving them. It was a wizard's task to train wizards. If they came for the reason of taking a boy back beyond the great barrier to their palace, Zedd viewed it as the gravest of crimes.

They had come for that very reason only the winter before, and taken Richard. Sister Verna was the one who had captured him and taken him to the Old World. Under the spell of their palace, he could have ended up being there for centuries. Leave it to Richard to make friends with the Sisters of the Light, of all people.

Zedd guessed he and the Sisters were even-that they had good reason to view him in a harsh way. He had, after all, set the spell that Richard had used to destroy their palace. But Ann had helped, knowing it was the only way to prevent Jagang from capturing the palace and acquiring the prophecies therein for his own purposes.

All around, guards, big guards, prowled the encampment. In chain mail and leather armor, they were an imposing sight. They watched everything as they slipped through the darkness. The camp was relatively quiet, considering its size. Noise could give away a variety of information to an enemy. It was not easy to see to it that this many men kept quiet.

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"I'm relieved that our first incursion by someone possessing the gift turned out to be a friend," the Sister said.

"And I'm glad to see that the gifted are helping to keep watch. But there are types of enemy forays that the regular sentries could not identify." Zedd wondered if they were really prepared for those kinds of troubles.

"If magic is involved, we will be there to detect it."

"I suppose you were watching me the whole time."

"I was," Sister Philippa said. "From the time you crossed the line of hills, back there."

Zedd scratched his jaw. "Really? That far away."

With a satisfied smirk she said, "That far."

He peered over his shoulder into the night. "Both of you. Very good."

She halted and turned to him. "Both? You knew there were two of us, watching?"

Zedd smiled innocently. "But, of course. You were just watching. She was farther away, following, conjuring some little nasty should I prove hostile."

Sister Philippa blinked in astonishment. "Remarkable. You could sense her touching her Han? From that distance?"

Zedd nodded with satisfaction. "They didn't make me First Wizard just because I was wiry."

Sister Philippa's smile finally looked sincere. "I am relieved you came as a friend, rather than one intent on harm."

There was more truth in that than the woman knew; Zedd had experience in the unpleasant, dirty business of magic in warfare. When he'd come near their camp, he saw the holes in their defense and the weaknesses in the way they used the gift for their purpose. They were not thinking as their enemy would think. Had lie been intent on harm, the entire camp would be in an uproar by now, despite what they had done to prepare for one such as he.

Sister Philippa turned back to the night to lead him on. It was somewhat unsettling for Zedd to walk through a D'Haran camp-even though he knew they were , now fighting on the same side. He had spent a good deal of his life dealing with D'Harans as the deadly enemy. Richard had changed all that. Zedd sighed. He some- t times thought that Richard might make friends with thunder and lightning and invite them both to dinner.

Dark shapes of tents and wagons loomed all around. Pole weapons were stacked upright in neat ranks, ready, should they be suddenly needed. Some soldiers snored, and some sat around in the dark, talking in low voices or laughing quietly, while x others patrolled the inky shadows. Those passed close enough for Zedd to smell their breath, but in the darkness he could not make out their faces.

Well-hidden sentries were stationed at every possible approach route. There were very few fires in the camp, and those were mostly watch fires set away from the main force, leaving the mass of the camp a dark whole of night. Some armies carried. on a considerable amount of work at night, performing repairs or making things . they needed, and letting the men do as they would. These men remained quiet ; throughout the night so watching eyes and listening ears could gain little if any help , for an invading force. These were well trained, disciplined, professional soldiers. From a distance it was difficult to tell the size of the camp. It was huge.

Sister Philippa brought Zedd to a sizable tent, one tall enough to stand in. Light from lamps hanging inside gave the canvas walls and roof a soft amber glow. She ducked beneath a tent line and poked her head in under the flap.

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"I have a wizard out here who wishes to see the Prelate."

Zedd heard muffled, astonished acknowledgment from inside.

"Go on in." Sister Philippa smiled while giving his back a gentle push. "I'll see if I can find you some dinner."

"I would be not only grateful, but greatly in your debt," Zedd told her.

As he stepped inside the tent, the people were just coming to their feet to greet him.

"Zedd! You old fool! You be alive!"

Zedd grinned as Adie, the old sorceress known as the bone woman in their adopted homeland of Westland, rushed into his arms. He let out a grunt as she momentarily squeezed the wind from his lungs. He smoothed her square-cut, jawlength black and gray hair as he held her head to his chest.

"I promised you'd see me again, now didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," she whispered into his heavy robes.

She pushed back, holding his arms, and looked him over. She reached up and smoothed down his unruly, wavy white hair.

"You look as lovely as ever," he told her.

She peered at him with her completely white eyes. Her sight had been taken from her when she was but a young woman. Adie now saw by means of her gift. In some ways, she saw better.

"Where be your hat?"

"Hat?"

"I bought you a fine hat arid you lost it. I see you still have not replaced it. You told me you would get another. I believe you promised."

Zedd hated the hat with the long feather she'd bought for him when they'd acquired the rest of his clothes. He'd rather be wearing the simple robes befitting a wizard of his rank and authority, but Ache had "lost" them after he purchased the fancy maroon robes with black sleeves and cowled shoulders he now wore. Three rows of silver brocade circled the cuffs. Thicker gold brocade ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold buckle gathered the outfit at his thin waist. Such clothes marked one with the gift as an initiate. For one without the gift, such clothes befitted nobility or in most places a wealthy merchant, so although Zedd disliked the ostentatious attire, it had at times been a valuable disguise. Besides, Adie liked him in the maroon robes. The hat, though, was too much for him. It had been "misplaced."

He noted that Adie had managed to keep her simple clothes along the way. Yellow and real beads around the neck of her robes, sewn in the shapes of the ancient symbols of her profession of sorceress, were the only ornamentation she wore.

"I've been busy," he said, flicking his hand, hoping to dismiss the matter, "or I would have replaced the hat."

"Bale," she scoffed. "You be up to mischief."

"Why, I've been-"

"Hush, now," Adie said. Holding his arm in a tight grip, she held out the long thin fingers of her other hand. "Zedd, this be Verna: Prelate of the Sisters of the Light."

The woman looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties; Zedd knew her to be much older. Ann, Verna's predecessor, had told him Verna's age, and while he couldn't recall the exact number, it was somewhere close to one hundred and sixty years-young for a Sister of the Light. She had simple, attractive features

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and brown hair with just enough curl and body to add a hint of sophistication. Her intent, brown-eyed gaze looked as if it could scour lichen off granite. By the lines of a resolute expression enduringly fixed on her face, she appeared to be a woman with a shell as tight as a beetle's and just as hard.

Zedd bowed his head. "Prelate. First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, at your service." He let her know, by his tone, that it was merely a figure of speech.

This was the woman who had taken Richard away to the Old World. Even if she believed it was to save his life, Zedd, as First Wizard, viewed such an act as abhorrent. The Sisters-sorceresses all-believed they could train gifted young men to be wizards. They were wrong; such a task could only be adequately accomplished by another wizard.

She offered her hand with the sunburst-patterned gold ring of office. He bent forward and kissed it, out of what he thought must be their custom. She pulled his hand close when he had finished, and kissed it in return.

"I am humbled to meet the man who helped raise our Richard. You would have to be as rare a person as I found him to be when we helped begin his training." She forced a chuckle. "We found it a formidable labor, trying to teach that grandson of yours."

Zedd slightly altered his opinion of the woman, treating her with greater caution. The air in the tent was stuffy and uncomfortable.

"That is because you are all oxen trying to teach a horse to run. You Sisters should stick to work more befitting your nature."

"Yes, yes, you be a brilliant man, Zedd," Adie scoffed. "Simply brilliant. One of these days even 1 may come to believe you." She tugged his sleeve, turning him from Verna's scarlet face. "And this be Warren," Adie said.

Zedd inclined his head toward Warren, but the boy was already falling to his knees and bowing his blond head.

"Wizard Zorander! This is quite an honor." He popped back up and seized Zedd's hand in both of his, pumping it until Zedd thought his arm might come undone at the shoulder. "I'm so pleased to meet you. Richard told me all about you. I'm so pleased to meet a wizard of your standing and talent. I would be so happy to learn from you!"

The happier he looked, the more Verna scowled.

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, too, my boy." Zedd didn't tell Warren that Richard had never mentioned him. But that was not out of disrespect or neglect; Richard had never had a chance to tell Zedd a great number of very important things. Zedd thought he could sense through Warren's grip that the young man was a wizard of unusual talents.

A bear of a man with a curly rust-colored beard, a white scar from his left temple to his jaw, and heavy eyebrows stepped forward. His grayish green eyes fixed on Zedd with fierce intensity, but he had a grin like a soldier on a long march who had spotted a lonely cask of ale..

"General Reibisch, commander of the D'Haran forces here in the south," the man said, taking Zedd's hand when Warren at last surrendered it and stepped back . beside Verna. "Lord Rahl's grandfather! What good fortune to see you, sir." His

grip was firm, but not painful. It got tighter. "What very good fortune."

"Yes, indeed," Zedd muttered. "Unfortunate as the circumstances are, General Reibisch."

"Unfortunate . . . ?"

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"Well, never mind, for the moment," Zedd said, waving off the question. He asked another, instead. "Tell me, General, have you begun to dig all the mass graves, yet? Or do you intend the few who are left alive to simply abandon all the bodies."

"Bodies?"

"Why . . . yes, the bodies of all your troops who are going to die." 123

Chapter 16

I hope you like eggs," Sister Philippa sang out as she swept into the tent, holding out a steaming plate.

Zedd rubbed his hands together. "Delightful!"

Everyone else was still standing in stiff, stunned silence. Sister Philippa didn't seem to notice all the hanging jaws.

"I had the cook add some ham and a few other things he had about." She glanced down at Zedd's form. "I thought you could use some substance."

"Marvelous!" Zedd grinned as he relieved her of the plate mounded high with scrambled eggs and ham.

"Ah . . ." the general began, seemingly befuddled as to how to frame his question, "might you kindly explain . . . what you mean by that, Wizard Zorander?"

"Zedd will do." Zedd looked up from inhaling the intoxicating aroma of the dish. "Dead." He drew the fork across his throat. "You know, dead. Nearly all of them. Dead." He turned back to Sister Philippa. "This smells delightful." He again inhaled the steam lifting from the plate of eggs. "Simply delightful. You are a woman of a kind heart and a skillful mind, to think to have the cook add such a splendid complement of ingredients. Simply delightful."

The Sister beamed.

The general lifted a hand. "Wizard Zorander, if I may-"

Adie hushed the burly general. "You be poor competition to food. Be patient."

Zedd took a forkful, humming his pleasure at the flavor he encountered. As he took a second forkful, Adie guided him to a simple bench at the side of the tent. A table in the middle held a few mugs and a lamp that lent the cozy tent not only its light but its oily odor as well.

Despite Adie's advice to be patient, everyone began talking at once, asking questions and offering objections. Zedd ignored them as he shoveled in the scrambled eggs. The large chunks of ham were delicious. He waved a particular juicy piece of meat to the confounded spectators to indicate his pleasure with it. The spices, the onions, the peppers, and the warm lumps of cheese were delightful. He rolled his eyes and moaned in bliss.

It was the best food he'd had in days. His traveling rations were simple and had long ago become boring. He had often grumbled that Spider ate better than he did. Spider seemed smug about it, too, which he had always found annoying. It wasn't good for a horse to be smug with you.

"Philippa," Verna growled, "must you be so pleased about a plate of eggs?"

"Well the poor man is practically starving." Puzzled by Verna's scowl, she waggled her hand at Zedd. "Just look at him. I'm simply happy to see him enjoy his meal, and pleased I could help one of the Creator's gifted."

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Zedd slowed when he all too soon approached the end of his meal, putting off the last few bites. He could have eaten another plate the same size. General Reibisch, sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the small tent, had been furiously twisting a strand of beard. Now, he leaned forward, his intent gaze fixed on Zedd.

"Wizard Zorander, I need-"

"Zedd. Remember?"

"Yes, Zedd. Zedd, the lives of these soldiers are my responsibility. Could you please tell me if you think they are in danger?"

Zedd spoke around a mouthful. "I already did."

"But . . . what is the nature of the danger?"

"The gifted. You know, magic."

The general straightened with a sober expression. His fingers dug into his muscular thighs. "The gifted?"

"Yes. The enemy has gifted among them. I thought you knew."

He blinked a few times as he seemed to run it through his mind again, trying to discover the nugget of invisible danger in Zedd's simple statement.

"Of course we know that."

"Ah. Then why haven't you dug some mass graves?"

Verna shot to her feet. "In the name of Creation! What do you think we are, serving wenches? Here to bring you dinner? We are gifted Sisters, here to defend the army from Jagang's captive Sisters!"

Adie stealthily signaled Verna to sit down and keep quiet. Her voice came out like gravel in honey. "Why don't you tell us what you have found, Zedd? I be sure the general and the Prelate would like to hear how to improve our defenses."

Zedd scraped the small yellow lumps across the plate, collecting them into a final, pitifully small forkful. "Prelate, I didn't mean to imply a deliberate inadequacy on your part."

"Well you certainly

"You are all too good, that's all."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Too good. You and your Sisters have spent your lives trying to help people."

"Well . . . 1, we-why, of course we help people. That's our calling."

"Killing is not. Jagang will be intent on killing you all."

"We know that, Zedd." The general scratched his beard, his gaze darting back and forth between Verna and Zedd. "The Prelate and her Sisters have helped us with detecting a number of enemy scouts and such. Just the same as Sister Philippa, here, found you when you approached our camp, they've found others intent on harm. They've done their part, Zedd, and without complaint. Every soldier in this camp is glad to have them here."

"All well and good, but when the army of the Imperial Order attacks, it will be different. They will use the gifted to lay waste to your forces."

"They will try," Verna insisted, trying to be convincing without shouting, which she was clearly itching to do, "but we are prepared to prevent such a thing."

"That's right," Warren said, nodding his confidence. "We have gifted at the ready at all times."

"That's good, that's good," Zedd drawled, as if he might be reconsidering. "Then you have dealt with the simple threats. The albino mosquitoes and such."

General Reibisch's bushy eyebrows wrinkled together. "The what?"

Zedd waved his fork. "So, tell me, then just to satisfy my curiosity-what are

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the gifted planning to do when the enemy charges our forces? Say, with a line of cavalry?"

"Lay down a line of fire before their cavalry," Warren said without hesitation. "As they charge in, we'll incinerate them before they can so much as launch a spear."

"Ah," Zedd said. "Fire." He put the last forkful in his mouth. Everyone silently watched him chew. He paused in his chewing and looked up. "Big fire, I presume? Colossal gouts of flame, and all?"

"What mosquitoes is he talking about," General Reibisch muttered under his breath toward Verna and Warren beside him on his bench opposite Zedd and Adie.

"That's right," Verna said, ignoring the general. He sighed and folded his arms across his barrel chest. "A proper line of fire." Verna waited until Zedd swallowed. "Do you find something unsatisfactory about that, First Wizard?"

Zedd shrugged. "Well . . ." He paused, then frowned. He leaned toward the general, peering more closely. Zedd wagged a bony finger at the man's folded arms.

"There's one now. A mosquito is about to suck your blood, General."

"What? Oh." He swatted it. "They've been thick this summer. I think the season for them is drawing to an end, though. We'll be happy to be rid of the little pests, I can tell you."

Zedd waggled his finger again. "And were they all like that one'?"

General Reibisch lifted his forearm and glanced down at the squashed bug. "Yes, the bloodthirsty little . . ." His voice trailed off. He peered more closely. With a finger and thumb he gingerly lifted the tiny insect by a wing, holding it up to have a better look.

"Well I'll be . . . this thing is"-his face lost a shade of color-"white." His grayish-green eyes turned up toward Zedd. "What was that you were saying about . . . ?"

"Albino mosquitoes," Zedd confirmed as he set his empty plate on the ground. He gestured with a sticklike finger at the general's flat assailant. "Have you ever seen the albino fever, General? Have any of you? Terrible thing, albino fever."

"What's albino fever?" Warren asked. "1 never heard of it. I've never read anything about it, either, I'm sure."

"Really? Must be just a Midlands thing."

The general peered more closely at the tiny white insect he was holding up. "What does this albino fever do to a person?"

"Oh, your flesh turns the most ghastly white." Zedd waved his fork. "Do you know," he said, frowning in thought as if distracted by something as he looking up at the ceiling of the tent, "that I once saw a wizard lay down a simply prodigious font of flame before a line of charging cavalry?"

"Well, there you go," Verna said. "You know its value, then. You've seen it in action."

"Yes . . ." Zedd drawled. "Problem was, the enemy had been prepared for such a simpleminded trick."

"Simpleminded!" Verna shot to her feet. "I don't see how you could possibly consider-"

"The enemy had conjured curved shields just for such an eventuality."

"Curved shields?" Warren swiped back a curly lock of his blond hair. "I've never heard of such a thing. What are curved-'

"The wizard who laid down the fire had been expecting shields, of course, and

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so he made his fire resistant to such an expected defense. These shields, though, weren't conjured to stop the fire"-Zedd's gaze. shifted from Warren's wide eyes to Verna's scowl-"but to roll it."

"Albino fever?" The general waved his bug. "If you might, could you explain-"

"Roll the fire?" Warren asked as he leaned forward.

"Yes," Zedd said. "Roll the fire before the cavalry charge-so that instead of a simple cavalry assault, the defenders now had deadly fire rolling back at them."

"Dear Creator . . ." Warren whispered. "That's ingenious-but surely the shield would extinguish the fire."

Zedd twirled his fork as he spoke, as if to demonstrate the shield rolling the flames. "Conjured by their own wizard for the expected defense, the fire had been hardened against shields, so instead of fizzling, it stayed viable. That, of course, enabled the curved shield to roll the fire back without it extinguishing. And, of course, being hardened to shields, the wizard's own quickly thrown up defensive shields couldn't stop his own fire's return."

"But he could just cut it oft!" Warren was becoming panicked, as if seeing his own wizard's fire coming back at him. "The wizard who created it could call it and cut it off."

"Could he?" Zedd smiled. "He thought so, too, but he hadn't been prepared for the peculiar nature of the enemy's shield. Don't you see? It not only rolled the fire back, but in so doing rolled around the fire as it went, protecting it from any alteration by magic."

"Of course . . ." Warren whispered to himself.

"The shield was also sprinkled with a provenance-seeking spell, so it rolled the fire back toward the wizard who conjured it. He died by his own fire-after it had seared through hundreds of his own men on its way to him."

Silence settled into the tent. Even the general, still holding out the albino mosquito, sat transfixed.

"You see," Zedd finally went on, tossing his fork down onto his plate, "using the gift in war is not simply an act of exercising your power, but an act of using your wits."

Zedd pointed. "For example, consider that albino mosquito General Reibisch is holding. Under cover of darkness, just like right now, tens of thousands of them, conjured by the enemy, could be sneaking into this camp to infect your men with fever, and no one would even realize they were under attack. Then, in the morning, the enemy strikes a camp of weak and sick soldiers and slaughters the lot of you."

Sister Philippa, over on the other side of Adie, swished her hand in alarm at a tiny buzzing mosquito. "But, the gifted we have could counter such a thing." It was more a plea than an argument.

"Really? It's difficult to detect such an infinitesimal bit of magic. None of you detected these minuscule invaders, did you?"

"Well, no, but . . ."

Zedd fixed a fierce glare on Sister Philippa. "It's night. In the night, they simply seem to be ordinary mosquitoes, pesky, but no different from any other. Why, the general here didn't notice them. Neither did any of you gifted people. You can't detect the fever they carry, either, because it, too, is such a tiny speck of magic you aren't watching for it-you're looking for something huge and powerful and fearsome.

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"Most of the gifted Sisters will be bitten in their sleep, without ever knowing it happened, until they awake in the pitch blackness with the shivering chills of a frightful fever, only to discover the first truly debilitating symptom of this particular fever: blindness. You see, it isn't the blackness of night they awake to-dawn has already broken-but blindness. Then they find that their legs won't obey their wishes. Their ears are ringing with what sounds like an endless, tingling scream."

The general's gaze darted about, testing his eyesight as Zedd went on. He. twisted a big finger in an ear as if to clean it out.

"By now, anyone bitten is too weak to stand. They lose control of their bodily functions and lie helpless in their own filth. They are within hours of death . . . but those last hours will seem like a year."

"How do we counter it?" On the edge of his seat, Warren licked his lips. "What's the cure?"

"Cure? There is no cure! Now a fog is beginning to creep toward the camp. This time, the few gifted left can sense that the wide mass of seething murk is foul with dark, suffocating magic. They warn everyone. Those too sick to stand wail in terror. They can't see, but they can hear the distant battle cries of the advancing enemy. In a panic not to be touched by the deadly fog, anyone able to rise from their bedrolls does so. Too delirious to stand, a few manage to crawl. The rest run for their lives before the advancing fog.

"It's the last mistake they ever make," Zedd whispered. He swept a hand out before their white faces. "They run headlong into the horror of a waiting death trap. "

Everyone was wide-eyed and slack-jawed by now, sitting on the edge of their benches.

"So, General," Zedd said in a bright, cheery tone as he sat back, "what about those mass graves? Or are you planning on any of you left alive just abandoning the sick for dead and leaving the bodies to rot? Probably not a bad idea. There will be enough to worry about without the burdensome task of trying to care for the dying and burying all the dead-especially since the very act of touching their white flesh will contaminate the living with a completely unexpected sickness, and then-"

Verna shot to her feet. "But what can we do!" She could plainly see the potential for chaos all around her. "How can we counter such vile magic?" She threw open her arms. "What do we need to do?"

Zedd shrugged. "I thought you and your Sisters had it all figured out. I thought you knew what you were doing." He waggled his hand over his shoulder, gesturing off to the south, toward the enemy. "I thought you said you had the situation well in hand."

Verna silently sank back down to the bench beside Warren.

"Uh, Zedd . . ." General Reibisch swallowed in distress. He held out the mosquito. "Zedd, I think I'm starting to feel dizzy. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"About what?"

"The fever. I think my vision is getting dimmer. Can you do nothing?"

"No, nothing."

"Nothing."

"Nothing, because there's nothing wrong with you. I just conjured a few albino mosquitoes to make a point. The point is that what I saw when I came into this camp scared the wits out of me. If the gifted among the enemy are at all diabolical,

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and with Jagang we have ample reason to believe they are, then this army is ill prepared for the true nature of the threat."

Sister Philippa haltingly lifted a hand like a schoolgirl with a question. "But, with all the gifted among us, surely, we would . . . know . . . or something."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you: the way things are now, you won't know. It's the things you never heard of, haven't seen before, don't expect, and can't even imagine, that are going to be coming for you. The enemy will use conventional magic, to be sure, and that will be trouble enough, but it's the albino mosquitoes you must fear."

"As you said, though, you only conjured them to make a point," Warren said. "Maybe the enemy isn't as smart as you, and won't think of such things."

"The Order did not take over all of the Old World by being stupid but by being ruthless." Zedd's brow drew lower. He lifted a finger skyward to mark his words. "Besides, they have already thought of just such things. This past spring, one of the Sisters in the hands of the enemy used magic to unleash a deadly plague that could not be detected by anyone with the gift. Tens of thousands of people, from newborn infants to the old, suffered gruesome deaths."

Those Sisters, in the hands of the enemy, were a grave and ever-present danger. Ann had gone off alone on a mission to either rescue those Sisters or eliminate them. From what Zedd had seen when he had been down in Anderith, Ann had failed in her mission. He didn't know what had become of her, but he knew that Jagang still held Sisters captive.

"But we stopped the plague," Warren said.

"Richard stopped it, as only he could." Zedd held the gaze of the young wizard. "Did you know that in order to save us from that grim fate, he had to venture to the Temple of the Winds, hidden away beyond the veil of life in the underworld itself? Neither you nor I can imagine the toll such an experience must have taken on him. I saw a shadow of the specter in his eyes when he spoke of it.

"I can't even hazard a guess as to how trifling a chance at success he had when he started on so hopeless a journey. Had he not prevailed against all odds, we would all be dead by now from an unseen death brought on by magic we could not detect and could not counter. I'd not want to again count on such an auspicious deliverance."

No one could disagree with him; they nodded slightly, or looked away. The tent had become a gloomy place.

Verna rubbed her fingers across her brow. "Pride is of no use to the dead. I admit it: those gifted among us have little knowledge of what we're doing when it comes to using our gift in warfare. We know some things about fighting, perhaps even a great many things, but I admit we could be woefully lacking in the depth of knowledge needed.

"Think us fools if you will, but don't ever think us at odds with you, Zedd; we are all here on the same side." Her brown eyes betrayed nothing but simple sincerity. "We not only could use your help, we would gratefully welcome it."

"Of course he will help us," Adie scoffed while giving Zedd a scolding frown.

"Well, you have a good start. Admitting that you don't know something is the first step to learning." Zedd scratched his chin. "Every day, I amaze myself with all I don't know."

"That would be wonderful," Warren said. "If you would help us, I mean." He

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sounded hesitant, but forged ahead anyway. "I would really like to have the benefit of a real wizard's experience."

Despondent with the weight of his other troubles, Zedd shook his head. "I would like to-and to be sure I will give you all some advice in the task at hand. However, I've been on a long and frustrating journey, and I'm afraid I'm not yet finished with it. I can't stay. I must soon be off again."

130 CHAPTER 17

Warren swiped back his curly blond hair. "What sort of journey have you been on, Zedd?"

Zedd pointed a bony finger. "You don't need to keep that flattened mosquito, General."

General Reibisch realized it was still between his finger and thumb. He tossed it away. Everyone awaited Zedd's words. He smoothed the heavy maroon robes over his twiglike thighs as his gaze absently studied the dirt floor.

He let out a crestfallen sigh. "I was recovering from my own auspicious deliverance from grappling with remarkable magic I'd never before encountered, and, as I regained my senses, spent months searching. I was down in Anderith, and saw some of what happened after the Order swept in there. It was a dark time for the people. Not only from the rampaging soldiers, but also from one of your Sisters, Verna. Death's Mistress they called her."

"Do you know which one it is?" Verna asked in a bitter voice at hearing of a Sister causing harm.

"No. I only saw her once, from a goodly distance. Had I been fully recovered, I might have tried to remedy the situation, but I wasn't myself yet and dared not confront her. She also had a few thousand soldiers with her. The sight of all the soldiers, led by a woman they had heard of and feared, had people in a panic. The Sister was young, with blond hair. She wore a black dress."

"Dear Creator," Verna whispered. "Not one of mine-one of the Keeper's. There are few women born with the strength of power such as she has. She also has power acquired by nefarious means; Nicci is a Sister of the Dark."

"I've gotten reports," General Reibisch said. By his grim tone, Zedd knew the reports must have had it right. "I've heard, too, that it's quieted considerably."

Zedd nodded. "The Order was at first brutal, but now 'Jagang the Just'-as they have taken to calling him-has spared them further harm. In most places, other than the capital of Fairfield where the most killing took place, people have turned to supporting him as a liberator come to deliver them into a better life. They're reporting neighbors, or travelers-whoever they suspect is not an adherent to the noble ideals of the Order.

"I was all through Anderith, and spent a good deal of time behind the enemy lines searching-without success. I then journeyed up into the wilds and north to a number of towns, and even a few cities, but I can find no sign of them. I guess my abilities were a long time in recovering; I only a short time ago discovered where you all were. I have to commend you, General, you've kept the presence of your forces well hidden-took me forever to find your army. The boy, though, seems to have vanished without a trace." Zedd's fists tightened in his lap. "I must find him."

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"You mean Richard?" Adie asked. "You be searching for your grandson?"

"Yes. For Richard and Kahlan, both." Zedd lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "However, without any success, I must admit. I've talked to no one who has seen even a sign of them. I've used every skill I possess, but to no avail. If I didn't know better, I'd say they no longer existed."

Looks passed among everyone else. Zedd peered from one surprised face to another. For the first time in months, Zedd's hopes rose. "What? What is it? You know something?"

Verna gestured under the bench. "Show him, General."

At her urging, the general lifted out a map roll. He pulled it wide in his callused hands and laid it on the ground at his feet. The map was turned around so Zedd could read it. General Reibisch tapped the mountains to the west of Hartland.

"Right here, Zedd."

"Right there . . . what?"

"Richard and Kahlan," Verna said.

Zedd gaped at her face and then down at the map. General Reibisch's finger hovered over a wild range of peaks. Zedd knew those mountains. They were an inhospitable place.

"There? Dear spirits, why would Richard and Kahlan be all the way up there in such a forbidding place? What are they doing there?"

"Kahlan be hurt," Adie said in a consoling tone. ',

"Hurt?"

"She was at the brink of passing into the spirit world. From what we be told, maybe she saw the world on the other side of the veil." Adie pointed to the map, "Richard took her there to recover."

"But . . . why would he do that?" With a hand, Zedd flattened his wavy white hair to the top of his head. His thoughts spun in a confusing jumble while he tried to take it all in at once. "She could be healed-"

"No. She be spelled. If magic be used to try to heal her, a vile hidden spell would be unleashed and she would die."

Understanding washed over him. "Dear spirits . . . I'm thankful the boy knew it in time." Before the horror of memories of the screams could come roaring to the fore of his thoughts, Zedd slammed a mental door on them. He swallowed with the pain of those that slipped through. "But still, why would he go there? He's needed here."

"He certainly is," Verna snapped. By her tone, it was a sore subject.

"He can't come here," Warren said. When Zedd only stared at him, he explained further. "We don't understand it all, but we believe Richard is following a prophecy of some sort."

"Prophecy!" Zedd dismissed it with a wave. "Richard doesn't take to riddles, He hates them and won't pay heed to them. There are times when I wish he would but he won't."

"Well, this one he's paying heed to." Warren pressed his lips tight for a moment. "It's his own."

"His own . . . what?"

Warren cleared his throat. "Prophecy."

Zedd jumped to his feet. "What! Richard? Nonsense."

"He's a war wizard," Verna said with quiet authority.

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Zedd passed a scowl among all the suddenly circumspect expressions. He made a sour face and, with a flourish of his robes, returned to his seat beside Adie.

"What is this prophecy?"

Warren twisted a little knot of his violet robes. "He didn't say, exactly."

"Here." General Reibisch pulled some folded papers from a pocket. "He wrote me letters. We've all read them."

Zedd stood and snatched the letters from the general's big fist. He went to the table and smoothed out the pages. As everyone else sat silently watching, Zedd leaned over the table and read Richard's words lying before him.

With great authority, Richard paradoxically turned away from authority. He said that after much reflection, he had come to an understanding that arrived with the power of a vision, and he knew then, beyond doubt, that his help would only bring about certain catastrophe.

In letters that followed, Richard said he and Kahlan were safe and she was slowly recovering. Cara was with them. In response to letters General Reibisch and others had written, Richard remained steadfast in his stand. He warned them that the cause of freedom would be forever lost if he failed to remain on his true path. He said that whatever decisions General Reibisch and the rest of them made, he would not contradict or criticize. He told them that his heart was with them, but they were on their own for the foreseeable future. He said possibly forever.

His letters basically gave no real information, other than alluding to his understanding or vision, and making it clear that they could expect no guidance from him. Nonetheless, Zedd could read some of what the words didn't say.

Zedd stared at the letters long after he had finished reading them. The flame of the lamp wavered slowly from side to side, occasionally fluttering and sending up a coiled thread of oily smoke. He could hear muffled voices outside the tent as soldiers on patrol quietly passed along information. Inside, everyone remained silent. They had all read the letters.

Verna's expression was tight with anxiety. She could hold her tongue no longer. "Will you go to see him, Zedd? Convince him to return to the struggle?"

Zedd lightly trailed his fingers over the words on paper. "I can't. This is one time I can be of no help to him."

"But he's our leader in this struggle." The soft lamplight illuminated the feminine grace of her slender fingers as she pressed them to her brow in vain solace. Her hand fell back to her lap. "Without him . . ."

Zedd didn't answer her. He could not imagine what Ann's reaction to such a development would be. For centuries she had combed through prophecies in anticipation of the war wizard who would be born to lead them in this battle for the very existence of magic. Richard was that war wizard, born to the battle he had suddenly abandoned.

"What do you think be the problem?" Adie asked in her quiet, raspy voice.

Zedd looked back to the letters one last time. He pulled his gaze from the words and straightened. All eyes around the dimly lit tent were on him as if hoping he could somehow rescue them from a fate they couldn't comprehend, but instinctively dreaded.

"This is a time of trial to the depth of Richard's soul." Zedd slipped his hands up opposite sleeves until the silver brocade at the cuffs met. "A passage, of sortsthrust upon him because of his comprehension of something only he sees."

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Warren cleared his throat. "What sort of trial, Zedd? Can you tell us?"

Zedd gestured vaguely as memories of terrible times flashed through his mind. "A struggle . . . a reconciliation . . ."

"What sort of reconciliation?" Warren pressed.

Zedd gazed into the young man's blue eyes, wishing he wouldn't ask so many questions. "What is the purpose of your gift?"

"Its purpose? Well, I ability."

"It is to help others," Verna stated flatly. She clutched her light blue cloak more tightly around her shoulders as if it were armor to defend her from whatever Zedd might throw at her in answer.

"Ah. Then what are you doing here?"

The question caught her by surprise. "Here?"

"Yes." Zedd waved his arm, indicating a vague, distant place. "If the gift is to help others, then why are you not out there doing it? There are sick needing to be healed, ignorant needing to be taught, and the hungry needing to be fed. Why are you just sitting there, healthy, smart, and well fed?"

Verna rearranged her cloak as she squared her shoulders into a posture of firm resolve. "In battle, if you abandon the gates to help a fallen comrade, you have given in to a weakness: your inability to steel yourself to an immediate suffering in order to prevent suffering on a much greater scale. If I run off to help the few people I could in that manner, I must leave my post here, with this army, as they try to keep the enemy from storming the gateway into the New World."

Zedd's estimation of the woman rose a little. She had come tantalizingly close to expressing the essence of a vital truth. He offered her a small smile of respect as he nodded. She looked more surprised by that than she had by his question.

"I can certainly see why the Sisters of the Light are widely regarded as proper servants of need." Zedd stroked his chin. "So then, it is your conviction that we with the ability-the gift-are born into the world to be slaves to those with needs?"

"Well, no . . . but if there is a great need-"

"Then we are more tightly bound in the chains of slavery to those with every greater need," Zedd finished for her. "Thus, anyone with a need, by right-to your mind-becomes our master? Indentured servant to one cause, or to any greater cause that might come along, but chattel all the same. Yes?"

This time, Verna chose not to dance with him over what she apparently regarded as a patch of quicksand. It didn't prevent her from glaring at him, though.

Zedd held that there could be only one philosophically valid answer to the question; if Verna knew it, she didn't offer it.

"Richard has apparently come to a place where he must critically examine his alternatives and determine the proper course of his life," Zedd explained. "Perhaps circumstances have caused him to question the proper use of his abilities, and, in view of his values, his true purpose."

Verna opened her hands in a helpless gesture. "1 don't see how he could have any higher purpose than to be here, helping the army against the threat to the New World-the threat to the lives of free people."

Zedd sank back down onto the bench. "You do not see, and I do not see, but Richard sees something."

"That doesn't mean he's right," Warren said.

Zedd studied the young man's face for a moment. Warren had fresh features, but

. guess to . . . well, it just is. The gift is simply an

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also a knowing look in his eyes that betrayed something beyond mere youth. Zedd wondered how old Warren was.

"No, it does not mean Richard is right. He may be making a heroic mistake that destroys our chance to survive."

"Kahlan thinks maybe it be a mistake," Adie finally put in, as if regretting having to tell him. "She wrote a note to me-I believe without Richard's knowledge, seeing as Cara wrote down Kahlan's words for her-and gave it to the messenger. Kahlan says that she fears Richard be doing this in part because of what happened to her. The Mother Confessor also confided that she be afraid Richard has lost his faith in people, and, because of his rejection by the people of Anderith, Richard may view himself as a fallen leader."

"Bah." Zedd waved his hand dismissively. "A leader cannot follow behind people, tail between his legs, sniffing for their momentary whims and wishes, whining to follow them this way and that as they ramble through life. Those kind of people are not looking for a leader-they are looking for a master, and one will find them.

"A true leader forges a clear path through a moral wilderness so that people might see the way. Richard was a woods guide because such is his nature. Perhaps he is lost in that dark wood. If he is, he must find his way out, and it must be a correctly reasoned course, if he is to be the true leader of a free people."

Everyone silently considered the implications. The general was a man who followed the Lord Rahl, and simply awaited his orders. The Sisters had their own ideas. Zedd and Adie knew the way ahead was not what it might seem to some.

"That's what Richard did for me," Warren said in a soft voice, staring off into memories of his own. "He showed me the way-made me want to follow him up out of the vaults. I had become comfortable down there, content with my books and my fate, but I was a prisoner of that darkness, living my life through the struggles and accomplishments of others. I never could understand precisely how he inspired me to want to follow him up and out." Warren looked up into Zedd's eyes. "Maybe he needs that same kind of help, himself. Can you help him, Zedd?"

"He has entered a dark time for any man, and especially for a wizard. He must come out the other side of this on his own. If I take him by the hand and lead him through, so to speak, I might take him a way he would not have selected on his own, and then he would forever be crippled by what I had chosen for him .

. . . But worse yet, what if he's right? If I unwittingly forced him to another course, it could doom us all and result in a world enslaved by the Imperial Order." Zedd shook his head. "No. This much I know: Richard must be left alone to do as he must. If he truly is the one to lead us in this battle for the future of magic and of mankind, then this can only be part of his journey as it must be traveled."

Almost everyone nodded, if reluctantly, at Zedd's words.

Warren didn't nod. He picked at the fabric of his violet robes. "There's one thing we haven't considered." As everyone waited, his blue eyes turned up to meet Zedd's gaze. In those eyes, Zedd saw an uncommon wisdom that told him that this was a young man who could gaze into the depths of things when most people saw only the sparkles on the surface.

"It could be," Warren said in a quiet but unflinching voice, "that Richard, being gifted, and being a war wizard, has been visited by a legitimate prophecy. War wizards are different from the rest of us. Their ability is not narrowly specific, but broad. Prophecy is, at least theoretically, within his purview. Moreover, Richard has Subtractive Magic as well as Additive. No wizard born in the last three thousand

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years has had both sides. While we can perhaps imagine, we could not possibly begin to understand his potential, though the prophecies have alluded to it.

"It could very well be that Richard has had a valid prophecy that he clearly understands. If so, then he may be doing precisely what must be done. It could even be that he clearly understands the prophecy and it is so gruesome he is doing us the only kindness he can-by not telling us."

Verna covered his hand with hers. "You don't really believe that, do you, Warren?" Zedd noticed that Verna put a lot of stock in what Warren said.

Ann had told Zedd that Warren was only beginning to exhibit his gift of prophecy. Such wizards-prophets-were so rare that they came along only once or twice a millennium. The potential importance of such a wizard was incalculable. Zedd didn't know how far along that path Warren really was, yet. Warren probably didn't, either.

"Prophecy can be a terrible burden." Warren smoothed his robes along his thigh. "Perhaps Richard's prophecy told him that if he is to ever have a chance to oversee victory, he must not die with the rest of us in our struggle against the army of the Imperial Order."

General Reibisch, silent about such wizardly doings, had nevertheless been listening and watching intently. Sister Philippa's thumb twiddled a button on her dress. Even with Verna's comforting hand on his, Warren, at that moment, looked nothing but forlorn.

"Warren"-Zedd waited until their eyes met-"we all at times envision the most fearful turn of events, simply because it's the most frightening thing we can imagine. Don't invest your thoughts primarily in that which is not the most likely reason for Richard's actions, simply because it is the reason you fear the most. I believe Richard is struggling to understand his place in all this. Remember, he grew up as a woods guide. He has to come to terms not only with his ability, but with the weight of rule."

"Yes, but-"

Zedd lifted a finger for emphasis. "The truth of a situation most often turns out to be that one with the simplest explanation."

The gloom on Warren's face finally melted away under the dawning radiance of a luminous smile. "I'd forgotten that ancient bit of wisdom. Thank you, Zedd."

General Reibisch, combing his curly beard with his fingers, pulled the hand free and made a fist. "Besides, D'Harans will not be so easily bested. We have more forces to call upon, and we have allies here in the Midlands who will come to aid in the fight. We have all heard the reports of the size of the Order, but they are just men, not evil spirits. They have gifted, but so do we. They have yet to come faceto-face with the might of D'Haran soldiers."

Warren picked up a small rock, not quite the size of his fist, and held it in his palm as he spoke. "I mean no disrespect, General, and I do not mean to dissuade you from our just cause, but the subject of the Order has been a pastime of mine. I've studied them for years. I'm also from the Old World."

"Fair enough. So what is it you have to tell us?"

"Well, say that the tabletop is the Old World-the area from which Jagang draws his troops. Now, there are places, to be sure, where there are few people spread over vast areas. But there are many places with great populations, too."

"It's much the same in the New World," the general said. "D'Hara has populous places, and desolate areas."

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Warren shook his head. He passed his hand over the tabletop. "Say this is the Old World-the whole of this table." He held up the rock to show the general and then placed it on the edge of the tabletop. "This is the New World. This is its size-this rock--compared to the Old World."

"But, but, that doesn't include D'Hara," General Reibisch sputtered. "Surely . . . with D'Hara-"

"D'Hara is included in the rock."

"I'm afraid Warren is right," Verna said.

Sister Philippa, too, nodded grim acknowledgment. "Perhaps . . ." she said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, "perhaps Warren is right, and Richard has seen a vision of our defeat, and knows he must remain out of it, or be lost with all the rest of us."

"I don't think that's it at all," Zedd offered in a gentle voice. "I know Richard. If Richard thought we would lose, he would say so in order to give people a chance to weigh that in their decisions."

The general cleared his throat. "Well, actually, one of the letters is missing from that stack. It was the first-where Lord Rahl told me about his vision. In it, Lord Rahl did say that we had no chance to win."

Zedd felt the blood drain down into his legs. He tried to keep his manner unconcerned. "Oh? Where is the letter?"

The general gave Verna a sidelong glance.

"Well, actually," Verna said, "when I read it, I was angered and . . ."

"And she balled it up and threw it in the fire," Warren finished for her.

Verna's face turned red, but she offered no defense. Zedd could understand the sentiment, but he would have liked to have read it with his own eyes. He forced a smile.

"Were those his actual words-that we had no chance to win?" Zedd asked, trying not to sound alarmed. He could feel sweat running down the back of his neck.

"No . . ." General Reibisch said as he shifted his shoulders inside his uniform while giving the question careful thought. "No, Lord Rahl's words were that we must not commit our forces to an attack directly against the army of the Imperial Order, or our side will be destroyed and any chance for winning in the future will be forever lost."

The feeling began to return to Zedd's fingers. He wiped a bead of sweat from the side of his forehead. He was able to draw an easier breath. "Well, that only makes sense. If they are as large a force as Warren says, then any direct attack would be foolhardy."

It did make sense. Zedd wondered, though, why Richard would make such a point of it to a man of General Reibisch's experience. Perhaps Richard was only being cautious. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.

Adie slipped her hand under Zedd's and cuddled her loose fist under his palm. "If you believe you must let Richard be in this, then you will stay? Help teach the gifted here what they must know?"

Every face was etched with concern as they watched him, hanging on what he might decide. The general idly stroked a finger down the white scar on the side of his face. Sister Philippa knitted her fingers together. Verna and Warren entwined theirs.

Zedd smiled and hugged Adie's shoulders. "Of course I'm not going to abandon you."

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The three on the bench opposite him each let out a little sigh. Their posture relaxed as if ropes around their necks had been slackened.

Zedd passed a hard look among them all. "War is nasty business. It's about killing people before they can kill you. Magic in war is simply another weapon, if a frightening one. You must realize that it, too, in this, must be used for the end result of killing people."

"What do we need to do?" Verna asked, clearly relieved that he had agreed to stay, but not to the obvious extent of General Reibisch, Warren, or Sister Philippa.

Zedd pulled some of his robes from each side of his legs over into the middle, between them, as he gave the question some thought. It was not the sort of lesson he relished.

"Tomorrow morning, we will begin. There is much to learn about countering magic in warfare. I will teach all the gifted some things about the awful business of using what you always hoped to use for good, for harm, instead. The lessons are not pleasing to endure, but then, neither is the alternative."

The thought of such lessons, and worse, the use of such knowledge, could not be pleasant for any of them to contemplate. Adie, who knew a little bit about the horrific nature of such struggle, rubbed his back in sympathy. His heavy robes stuck to his skin. He wished he had his simple wizard's robes back.

"We will all do as we must to prevent our own people from falling to the monstrous magic of the Imperial Order," Verna said. "You have my word as Prelate."

Zedd nodded. "Tomorrow, then, we begin."

"I fear to think of magic added to warfare," General Reibisch said as he stood.

Zedd shrugged. "To tell the truth, the ultimate object of magic in warfare is to counter the enemy's magic. If we do our job properly, we will bring balance to this. That would mean that all magic would be nullified and the soldiers would then be able to fight without magic swaying the battle. You will be able to be the steel against steel, while we are the magic against magic."

"You mean, your magic won't be of direct help to us?"

Zedd shrugged. "We will try to use magic to visit harm on them in any way we can, but when we try to use magic as a weapon, the enemy will try to counter ours. Any attempt to use their power against us, we will try to counter. The result of magic in warfare, if properly and expertly done, is that it seems as if magic did not exist at all.

"If we fail to rise to the challenge, then the power they throw at us will be truly horrific to witness. If we can best them, then you will see such destruction of their forces as you can't imagine. But, in my experience, magic has a way of balancing, so that you rarely see such events."

"A deadlock, then, is our goal?" Sister Philippa asked.

Zedd turned his palms up, moving his hands up and down in opposition, as if they were scales holding great weight. "The gifted on both sides will be working harder than they have ever worked before. I can tell you that it's exhausting. The result, except with small shifts in the advantage, is that it will seem as if we are d doing nothing to earn our dinner."

Zedd let his hands drop. "It will be punctuated with brief moments of sheer horror and true panic when it seems beyond doubt that the world itself is about to end in one final fit of sheer madness."

General Reibisch grinned in an odd, gentle, knowing way. "Let me tell you, war, when you're holding a sword, looks about the same way." He held up a hand in

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mock defense. "But I'd rather that, I guess, than have to swing my sword at every magic mosquito that came along. I'm a man of steel against steel. We have Lord Rahl to be the magic against the magic. I'm relieved we have Lord Rahl's grandfather, the First Wizard, to aid us, too. Thank you, Zedd. Anything you need is yours. Just ask."

Verna and Warren added silent nods as the general stepped to the entrance of the tent. When Zedd spoke, General Reibisch turned back, gripping the flap in one hand.

"You're still sending messengers to Richard?"

The general confirmed that they were. "Captain Meiffert was up there, too. He might be able tell you more about Lord Rahl."

"Have all of the messengers returned safely?"

"Most of them." He rubbed his bearded chin. "We've lost two, so far. One messenger was found by chance at the bottom of a rockslide. Another never returned, but his body wasn't found-which wouldn't be unusual. It's a long and difficult journey. There are any number of hazards on such a journey; we have to expect we might lose a few men."

"I'd like you to stop sending men up there to Richard."

"But Lord Rahl needs to be kept informed."

"What if the enemy should capture one of those messengers and find out where Richard is? If you have no scruples, most any man can eventually be made to talk. The risk is not worth it."

The general rubbed his palm on the hilt of his sword as he considered Zedd's words. "The Order is far to the south of us-way down in Anderith. We control all the land between here and the mountains where Lord Rahl is staying." He shook his head in resignation at Zedd's unflinching gaze. "But if you think it's a concern, I'll not send another. Won't Lord Rahl wonder, though, what's going on with us?"

"What's going on with us is not really relevant to him right now; he is doing as he must do, and he can't allow our situation to influence him. He has told you already that he won't be able to give you any orders, that he must stay out of it."

Zedd tugged his sleeves straight and sighed as he thought about it. "Perhaps when the summer is over, before the full grip of winter descends and they're snowed in way up there, I'll go and see how they fare."

General Reibisch gave a departing smile. "If you could talk to Lord Rahl, it would be a relief for us all, Zedd; he would trust your word. Good night, then."

The man had just betrayed his true feelings. No one in the tent really trusted what Richard was doing, except, perhaps, Zedd, and Zedd had his doubts, too. Kahlan had said that she believed Richard viewed himself as a fallen leader; these people who claimed not to understand how he could believe such a thing, at the same time didn't trust his actions.

Richard was all alone with only the strength of his beliefs to support him.

After the general had gone, Warren leaned forward eagerly. "Zedd, I could go with you to see Richard. We could get him to tell us everything, and we could then determine if it really is a prophecy, or as he says, just an understanding he's come to. If it's not really a prophecy, we might be able to make him see things differently.

"More important, we could begin teaching him-or you could, anyway-about his gift, about using magic. He needs to know how to use his ability."

As Zedd paced, Verna let out a little grunt to express her misgivings about Warren's suggestion. "I tried to teach Richard to touch his Han. A number of Sisters attempted it, too. No one was able to make any progress."

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"But Zedd believes a wizard is the one to do it. Isn't that right, Zedd?"

Zedd halted his pacing and regarded them both a moment as he considered how to put his thoughts into words. "Well, as I said before, teaching a wizard is not really the work for sorceresses, but another wizard-"

"With Richard, I don't think you would have any better luck than we did," Verna railed.

Warren didn't give ground. "But Zedd believes Zedd cleared his throat, bidding silence. "You're right, my boy; it is the job of a wizard to teach another wizard born with the gift." Verna rose an angry finger to object, but Zedd went right on. "In this case, however, I believe Verna is right."