"But I am," she said as she stared up at the canopy. "It is simply not the reaction you wish."
She gazed up at him a moment, and then turned her eyes away.
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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.
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.
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.
He grinned. "You expect me to believe that you were doing me a kindness? Now you mock me."
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.
"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
He put an arm behind his head. "Sometimes you make me believe the stories fat people tell, that you really are crazy."
"Then they will be dead."
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.
"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?"
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."
"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.
"Yet you came in and slaughtered-"
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Nicci smiled inwardly, a sad smile. She was a fallen woman, and Richard was a fallen man. Their fate was sealed.
"I will have him!"
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.
"You have decided this change? On your own? You do not consider the will of the Creator in your campaign?"
"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."
"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."
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.
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"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."
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.
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.
"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."
"You ordered me here."
She opened her mouth, but she had no answer she could put into words, no answer he would understand.
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.
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
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.
With that, her mind turned to thoughts of Sister Lidmila.
She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, speckled with droplets of dried blood. "You are a pig."
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.
"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?"
"What's all the talk about you building a palace?"
"The man who wants to rule. Lord Rahl stands in your way. How many times has he bested you, now?"
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.
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?"
You care about me yet you heat me? You care about me, yet you never bothered
to tell me of such an enormous project as the building of a palace? I am insignificant to you.
"You, the man who was content in tents in the, field, now wants to live in a resplendent building? Why?"
"But of course," she sniped.
wrongly made that move without first discussing it with me. But let us forget that, now."
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."
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 . . .
"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."
"Brother Narev and his disciples greatly favor the project." Jagang flashed her a sly smile. "They will live there, too, of course."
"He's going to spell the new palace," she whispered in astonishment to herself.
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.
"Tell me about the palace," she said, preferring his voice to the silent scrutiny of nightmare eyes.
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.
"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.
"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."
"Oh? And will the Creator be taking up residence there, too, then'?"
That was what she wanted to know.
"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.
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.
"This is why I have stayed," she whispered, "because the cause of the Order is righteous."
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.
"Oh? As the Slave Queen?"
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-"
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."
"I'm leaving." She drew on a boot.
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.
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.
"I do not think it"-she yanked the laces tight-"I know it. The truth is I choose not to."
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.
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"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."
"This is not like the other times. This is different."
"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."
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.
"And where are you going, Nicci?"
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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.
"I told you, I'm Richard's grandfather."
"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."
Zedd sighed. "How very true."
"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."
"Ah," Zedd said, holding up a finger in triumph, "all very well and good, but-"
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.
"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
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."
"You see there, young man? You're not so smart after all."
Zedd scowled down at the man. "Now see here-"
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
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
"But, I have my own fire, if you need to see better. Does this help you see things better, Sergeant?"
"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."
"Sister Philippa, Wizard Zorander. I am aid to the Prelate."
"Treat her especially well, Sergeant. Spider is a friend."
After the soldiers had led Spider away, Zedd said, "The Prelate? Which one?"
"Oh, yes, of course. Prelate Verna."
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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.
"How may I be of service, Wizard Zorander?"
"She is. This way, Zedd, if you please."
She looked back over her shoulder. "This late?"
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.
"Do they`? I never knew that."
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.
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.
"I'm relieved that our first incursion by someone possessing the gift turned out to be a friend," the Sister said.
"If magic is involved, we will be there to detect it."
"I was," Sister Philippa said. "From the time you crossed the line of hills, back there."
With a satisfied smirk she said, "That far."
She halted and turned to him. "Both? You knew there were two of us, watching?"
Sister Philippa blinked in astonishment. "Remarkable. You could sense her touching her Han? From that distance?"
Sister Philippa's smile finally looked sincere. "I am relieved you came as a friend, rather than one intent on harm."
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.
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.
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Zedd heard muffled, astonished acknowledgment from inside.
"I would be not only grateful, but greatly in your debt," Zedd told her.
"Zedd! You old fool! You be alive!"
"I promised you'd see me again, now didn't I?"
She pushed back, holding his arms, and looked him over. She reached up and smoothed down his unruly, wavy white hair.
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.
"Hat?"
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."
"I've been busy," he said, flicking his hand, hoping to dismiss the matter, "or I would have replaced the hat."
"Why, I've been-"
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
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.
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.
"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."
"That is because you are all oxen trying to teach a horse to run. You Sisters should stick to work more befitting your nature."
Zedd inclined his head toward Warren, but the boy was already falling to his knees and bowing his blond head.
The happier he looked, the more Verna scowled.
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..
grip was firm, but not painful. It got tighter. "What very good fortune."
"Unfortunate . . . ?"
"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."
"Why . . . yes, the bodies of all your troops who are going to die." 123
Zedd rubbed his hands together. "Delightful!"
"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."
"Ah . . ." the general began, seemingly befuddled as to how to frame his question, "might you kindly explain . . . what you mean by that, Wizard Zorander?"
The Sister beamed.
Adie hushed the burly general. "You be poor competition to food. Be patient."
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.
"Philippa," Verna growled, "must you be so pleased about a plate of eggs?"
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"Wizard Zorander, I need-"
"Yes, Zedd. Zedd, the lives of these soldiers are my responsibility. Could you please tell me if you think they are in danger?"
"But . . . what is the nature of the danger?"
The general straightened with a sober expression. His fingers dug into his muscular thighs. "The gifted?"
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.
"Ah. Then why haven't you dug some mass graves?"
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."
"Well you certainly
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well . . . 1, we-why, of course we help people. That's our calling."
"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."
"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 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."
Zedd waved his fork. "So, tell me, then just to satisfy my curiosity-what are
the gifted planning to do when the enemy charges our forces? Say, with a line of cavalry?"
"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?"
"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?"
"There's one now. A mosquito is about to suck your blood, General."
Zedd waggled his finger again. "And were they all like that one'?"
"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 . . . ?"
"What's albino fever?" Warren asked. "1 never heard of it. I've never read anything about it, either, I'm sure."
The general peered more closely at the tiny white insect he was holding up. "What does this albino fever do to a person?"
"Well, there you go," Verna said. "You know its value, then. You've seen it in action."
"Simpleminded!" Verna shot to her feet. "I don't see how you could possibly consider-"
"Curved shields?" Warren swiped back a curly lock of his blond hair. "I've never heard of such a thing. What are curved-'
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"Albino fever?" The general waved his bug. "If you might, could you explain-"
"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."
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."
"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."
"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."
"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."
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.
"Well, no, but . . ."
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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.
"How do we counter it?" On the edge of his seat, Warren licked his lips. "What's the cure?"
"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. "
"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-"
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."
"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?"
"The fever. I think my vision is getting dimmer. Can you do nothing?"
"Nothing."
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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."
"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."
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.
"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.
No one could disagree with him; they nodded slightly, or looked away. The tent had become a gloomy place.
"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."
"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."
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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."
Warren swiped back his curly blond hair. "What sort of journey have you been on, Zedd?"
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.
"Do you know which one it is?" Verna asked in a bitter voice at hearing of a Sister causing harm.
"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."
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.
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"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."
Verna gestured under the bench. "Show him, General."
"Right here, Zedd."
"Richard and Kahlan," Verna said.
"There? Dear spirits, why would Richard and Kahlan be all the way up there in such a forbidding place? What are they doing there?"
"Hurt?"
"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-"
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 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."
"Well, this one he's paying heed to." Warren pressed his lips tight for a moment. "It's his own."
Warren cleared his throat. "Prophecy."
"He's a war wizard," Verna said with quiet authority.
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.
Warren twisted a little knot of his violet robes. "He didn't say, exactly."
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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Zedd gestured vaguely as memories of terrible times flashed through his mind. "A struggle . . . a reconciliation . . ."
Zedd gazed into the young man's blue eyes, wishing he wouldn't ask so many questions. "What is the purpose of your gift?"
"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.
The question caught her by surprise. "Here?"
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."
"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?"
"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?"
Zedd held that there could be only one philosophically valid answer to the question; if Verna knew it, she didn't offer it.
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."
"That doesn't mean he's right," Warren said.
. guess to . . . well, it just is. The gift is simply an
also a knowing look in his eyes that betrayed something beyond mere youth. Zedd wondered how old Warren was.
"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."
"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."
"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?"
. . . 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."
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.
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"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."
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.
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.
"Yes, but-"
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."
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."
"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."
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"But, but, that doesn't include D'Hara," General Reibisch sputtered. "Surely . . . with D'Hara-"
"I'm afraid Warren is right," Verna said.
"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."
Zedd felt the blood drain down into his legs. He tried to keep his manner unconcerned. "Oh? Where is the letter?"
"Well, actually," Verna said, "when I read it, I was angered and . . ."
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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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."
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.
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.
Zedd nodded. "Tomorrow, then, we begin."
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."
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.
"A deadlock, then, is our goal?" Sister Philippa asked.
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."
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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.
The general confirmed that they were. "Captain Meiffert was up there, too. He might be able tell you more about Lord Rahl."
"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."
"But Lord Rahl needs to be kept informed."
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?"
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."
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.
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.
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."
"But Zedd believes a wizard is the one to do it. Isn't that right, Zedd?"
"With Richard, I don't think you would have any better luck than we did," Verna railed.