Naked Empire

by Terry Goodkind

  More than anything, it was Cara’s reluctance to use force that gave Kahlan pause. If there was anyone who would be more than willing to use physical force to protect Richard, it was Cara.

  In the dim light of the lantern, Kahlan studied the emotion in Cara’s expression. Despite everything Cara said, Kahlan didn’t know if she could afford to take the chance, to hesitate.

  “What if it’s a stab in the dark?” Jennsen asked from behind.

  Kahlan glanced back over her shoulder at Richard’s sister, at the worry on her face.

  Kahlan had made a mistake before in not acting quickly enough, and it resulted in Richard being captured and taken from her. Then it was his freedom; this time it was his life at stake.

  She knew that while hesitation had been a mistake in that instance, that didn’t mean that immediate action was always right.

  She looked back into Cara’s eyes. “All right. We’ll hear what he has to say.” With a thumb, she brushed a tear from Cara’s cheek, a tear of terror for Richard, a tear of terror at the thought of losing him. “Thanks,” Kahlan whispered.

  Cara nodded and released her. She turned and folded her arms, fixing Owen in her glare.

  “You had better not make me sorry for stopping her.”

  Owen peered about at all the faces watching him—Friedrich, Tom, Jennsen, Cara, Kahlan, and even the man Kahlan had touched, lying on the ground not far away.

  “In the first place, how could you possibly have poisoned Richard?” Kahlan asked.

  Owen licked his lips, fearful of telling her, even though that was apparently why he had returned. His gaze finally broke toward the ground.

  “When I saw the dust rising from the wagon, and I knew that I was near, I dumped out what water I had left, so it would appear I had none. Then, when Lord Rahl found me, I asked for a drink. When he gave me his waterskin so I could have a drink, I put poison in it, just before I handed it back. I was relieved that you had showed up, too. It was my intention that I poison both Lord Rahl and you, Mother Confessor, but you had your own water and didn’t take a drink when he offered it to you. But I guess it doesn’t matter. This will work just as well.”

  Kahlan couldn’t make sense of such a confession. “So you intended to kill us both, but you were only able to poison Richard.”

  “Kill…?” Owen looked up in shock at the very idea. He shook his head emphatically. “No, no, nothing like that. Mother Confessor, I tried to get to you earlier, but those men went to your camp before I got there. I needed to get the antidote to Lord Rahl.”

  “I see. You wanted to save him—after you’d poisoned him—but when you got to our camp, we’d gone.”

  His eyes filled with tears again. “It was so awful. All the bodies—the blood. I’ve never seen such brutal murder.” He covered his mouth.

  “It would have been murder—our murder,” Kahlan said, “had we not defended ourselves.”

  Owen seemed not to hear her. “And you were gone—you’d left. I didn’t know where you’d gone. It was hard to follow your wagon’s trail in the dark, but I had to. I had to run, to catch up with you. I was afraid the races would get me, but I knew I had to reach you tonight. I couldn’t wait. I was afraid, but I had to come.”

  The whole story was nonsense to Kahlan.

  “So you’re like one of those people who starts a fire, calls out an alarm, and then helps put it out—all so you can be a hero.”

  Startled, Owen shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Nothing like that at all—I swear. I hated doing it. I did. I hated it.”

  “Then why did you poison him!”

  Owen twisted his light coat in his fists as tears trickled down his cheeks. “Mother Confessor, we have to give him the antidote, now, or he will die. It’s already so very late.” He clasped his hands prayerfully and gazed skyward. “Dear Creator, let it not be too late, please.” He reached out for Kahlan, as if to urgently beg her as well, to assure her of his sincerity, but at the look on her face, drew back. “There’s no more time, Mother Confessor. I tried to get to you earlier—I swear. If you don’t let him have the remedy now, it will be the end of him. It will all be for naught—everything, all if it, all for nothing!”

  Kahlan didn’t know if she dared trust in such an offer. It made no sense to poison a man and then save him.

  “What’s the antidote?” she asked.

  “Here.” Owen hurriedly pulled a small vial from a pocket inside his coat. “Here it is. Please, Mother Confessor.” He held the square-sided vial out toward her. “He must have this now. Please, hurry, or he will die.”

  “Or this will finish him,” Kahlan said.

  “If I wanted to finish him, I could have done so when I slipped the poison into his waterskin. I could have used more of it, or I could simply not have come with the antidote. I’m not a killer, I swear—that’s why I had to come in the first place.”

  Owen wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. Kahlan wasn’t confident in such an offer. It was Richard’s life that would be forfeit if she chose wrong.

  “I say we give Richard Owen’s antidote,” Jennsen whispered.

  “A stab in the dark?” Kahlan asked.

  “You said that there were times when there is no choice but to act immediately, but even then it must be with your best judgment, using all your experience and everything you do know. Earlier, in the wagon, I heard Cara tell you that she didn’t know if Richard would live the night. Owen says he has an antidote. I think this is one of those times we must act.”

  “If it means anything,” Tom offered in a confidential tone, “I’d have to agree. I don’t see as there really is any choice. But if you have an alternative that might save Lord Rahl, I think now would be the time to add it to the stew.”

  Kahlan didn’t have any alternative, except getting to Nicci, and that was looking more and more like no more than empty hope.

  “Mother Confessor,” Friedrich offered in a hushed tone, “I agree as well. I think you should know that if you let him have the remedy, we all were in agreement that it was the best choice to be made.”

  If the antidote killed Richard, they wouldn’t blame her. That was what he was saying.

  Jennsen stepped toward Owen, pulling Betty along with her. “If you’re lying about this being an antidote, you will have to answer to me, and to Cara, and then to the Mother Confessor—if there’s even anything left of you by then. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  Owen shrank from her, his head turned away, as he nodded vigorously, apparently fearing to look up at her, or at Betty. Kahlan thought that he looked more afraid of Jennsen than of any of the rest of them.

  Cara leaned toward Kahlan and whispered. “He has to have an antidote. What purpose would it be to place himself in danger of all we’ll do to him if he’s lying? Why even come back here, if he only wanted to poison Lord Rahl? He had already poisoned him and gotten away. Mother Confessor, I say that we give Lord Rahl the antidote, and we do it quickly.”

  “Then why poison him in the first place?” Kahlan whispered back. “If you intend to give a man the antidote, then why poison him?”

  Cara let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. But right now, if Lord Rahl dies…”

  Cara’s words trailed off at the unthinkable.

  Kahlan looked over at Richard lying unconscious. She went weak at the thought of him never waking. How could she live in a world without Richard?

  “How much do we give him?” she asked Owen.

  Owen rushed forward, past Jennsen. “All of it. Make him drink it all down.” He pressed the small, square-sided bottle into Kahlan’s hands. “Hurry. Please hurry.”

  “You’ve hurt him,” Kahlan said with unrestrained menace. “Your poison hurt him. He’s been coughing up blood, and he passed out from the pain. If you think I’ll ever forget that and be pleased with you for now returning to save his life, you’re wrong.”

  Owen nervously licked his lips. “But I tried to get to you. I was bringing you
the antidote so that wouldn’t happen. I never intended him such pain. I tried to get to you—but you slaughtered all those men.”

  “So, it’s our fault, then?”

  Owen smiled just a bit as he nodded, a small smile of satisfaction that she’d finally seen the light and at last understood that it wasn’t his fault at all, but their fault.

  While Jennsen watched Owen, keeping him back out of the way, Tom watched the man Kahlan had touched, and Friedrich watched Betty, Kahlan and Cara knelt and lifted Richard so they could try to get him to drink the antidote. Cara propped his back against her thigh while Kahlan cradled his head in her arm.

  She pulled the stopper with her teeth and spit out the cork. Careful not to spill and waste any of the antidote, she put the bottle to his lips and tipped it up. She watched it wet his lips. She tilted his head back more, so that his mouth would fall open a bit, and tipped the bottle some more. Carefully, she let some of the clear liquid dribble into his mouth.

  Kahlan didn’t know if what was in the bottle really was an antidote. It was colorless and looked to her just like water. As Richard smacked his lips a little, swallowing what she had poured in his mouth, Kahlan smelled the bottle. The liquid had the slight aroma of cinnamon.

  She dribbled more of it into Richard’s mouth. He coughed, but then swallowed. Cara used a finger to swipe up a drop that ran down his chin and return it to his mouth.

  Kahlan, her heart pounding with worry, poured the rest of the liquid past his lips. Holding the empty bottle between her thumb and first finger, she used the palm of her hand to push Richard’s jaw up, forcing his head back, forcing him to swallow.

  She sighed with relief when he swallowed several times, taking all the cure. At least she’d been able to get him to swallow it.

  Carefully, Kahlan and Cara laid Richard back down. As Cara stood, Owen rushed forward.

  “Did you give him all of it? Did he drink it all?”

  Cara’s Agiel spun into her fist. As Owen, in his exuberance to get to Richard, charged forward, Cara rammed her Agiel into Owen’s shoulder.

  Owen tottered back a step. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his shoulder where Cara had jabbed her Agiel into him. “I only wanted to see how he is. I don’t mean any harm. I want him to be well, I swear.”

  Kahlan stared in astonishment. Cara glanced down at her Agiel, then at Owen.

  Her Agiel hadn’t worked on him. He wasn’t affected by magic.

  Even Jennsen was staring at Owen. He was just like her—a pillar of Creation, born pristinely ungifted and unaffected by magic. While Jennsen understood what that meant, it didn’t seem that Owen did. He had no idea that Cara had done anything more than poke him good and hard to get him to stand back.

  Her Agiel should have dropped him to his knees.

  “Richard drank all the antidote. Now it must do its work. In the meantime, I think we had better get some sleep.” Kahlan gestured with a tilt of her head. “See to the watches, would you Cara? I’ll stay with Richard.”

  Cara nodded. She gave Tom a look, which he understood.

  “Owen,” Tom said, “why don’t you come over by me and spend the night over here, with this fellow.”

  Owen blanched at the look on the face of the big D’Haran, and understood that he wasn’t being offered a choice. “Yes, all right.” He turned back to Kahlan. “I’ll pray that he got the antidote in time. I’ll pray for him.”

  “Pray for yourself,” she said.

  When everyone had gone, Kahlan lay down beside Richard. Now that she was alone with him, tears of worry finally began to seep out. Richard was shivering with cold, even though it was a warm night. She drew the blanket back up around him and then put her hand on his shoulder as she cuddled close, not knowing if when the new day came he would still be with her.

  Chapter 22

  Richard opened his eyes, only to squint at the light, even though it was far from sunny. By the layered streaks of violet tinting the iron gray sky, it appeared to be just dawn. A heavy overcast hung low overhead. Or it could be sunset—he wasn’t really sure. He felt strangely disoriented.

  The dull throbbing in his head ached back down through his neck. His chest burned with every breath he drew. His throat was raw. It hurt to swallow.

  The heavy pain, though, the pain that had squeezed so hard it had taken his breath and had made the world go black, seemed to have ebbed. The bone-chilling grip of cold had lifted, too.

  Richard felt as if he had lost contact with the world for a time—how long a time he didn’t know. It seemed like it had been an eternity, as if the world of life was a distant memory from his past. He also felt as if he had come close to never waking again. It brought a flash of sweat to his brow to feel that he had been close to losing his life, to realize that he might never have awakened.

  The surroundings were different from those he remembered. Close by, a wall of straw-colored rock with sharp fractured edges rose nearly straight up. To the side he saw a stand of twisted bristlecone pine. Pale, bare wood stood out in naked relief where sections of dark bark had peeled open. The imposing mountains loomed closer than he remembered, and there were more trees on the slopes of the nearby hills.

  Jennsen lay curled up in a blanket beside Betty, her back against the rear wheel of the wagon. Tom was asleep not too far away right beside his draft horses. Friedrich sat on a rock standing watch. Richard couldn’t make sense of the two men who lay at Friedrich’s feet. Richard thought one of them must be the man Kahlan had touched with her power. The other one, though, he wasn’t sure of, although Richard thought there was something familiar about him.

  Kahlan was sound asleep up against him. His sword lay on his other side, close by his hand. On the other side of Kahlan lay her sword, sheathed, but at the ready.

  All the Seekers who had used the Sword of Truth before Richard, the good and the evil, had left within the sword’s magic the essence of their skill. By mastering the sword as the true Seeker for whom the makers of the sword intended its power, Richard had learned to tap that ability and make it his own, to draw on all the skill and knowledge of those before him. He had become a master of the blade, in more ways than one, and part of that had come from the blade itself.

  Kahlan had been taught to use a sword by her father, King Wyborn Amnell, once king of Galea before Kahlan’s mother had taken him for her mate. Richard had completed Kahlan’s training, teaching her how to use a sword in ways she had never been shown, ways that used her size and speed to her best advantage, rather than fighting like the enemy and depending on strength.

  Despite his pounding head, and the pain when he drew a breath, the warm feel of Kahlan against his side brought him a smile. She looked so beautiful, even with her hair all in a tangle. She made his heart ache with longing. He had always loved her long beautiful hair. He loved to watch her sleep almost as much as he loved to gaze into her arresting green eyes. He loved to make her hair a tangled mess.

  He remembered, back when he had first met her, watching her sleep on the floor of Adie’s home, watching her slow heartbeat in the vein in her neck. He remembered, as he’d watched, being struck by the life in her. She was just so alive, so passionately filled with life. He couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at her.

  Gently, he bent and kissed the top of her head. She stirred, nuzzling up tighter to him.

  Suddenly, she jerked upright, sitting on a hip as she stared wide-eyed at him.

  “Richard!”

  She threw herself down beside him, her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. She clutched him for dear life. A single gasp of a sob that terrified him with its forlorn misery escaped her throat.

  “I’m all right,” he soothed as he smoothed her hair.

  She pushed herself up again, slower, gazing at him as if she hadn’t seen him in an eternity. Her special smile, the one she gave only him, spread incandescent across her face.

  “Richard…” She seemed only able to stare at him and smile.

  Richard
, still lying back trying to let his head clear, lifted an arm just enough to point. “Who is that?”

  Kahlan looked back over her shoulder. She turned back and took up Richard’s hand.

  “Remember that fellow a week or so back? Owen? That’s him.”

  “I thought I recognized him.”

  “Lord Rahl!” Cara dropped to the ground on the side of him opposite Kahlan. “Lord Rahl…”

  She, too, seemed to have trouble finding words. Instead, she took up his free hand. That, in itself, said a world to him.

  Richard took the hand back, kissed his first two fingers and touched the fingers to her cheek.

  “Thanks for watching out for everyone.”

  Jennsen hobbled over, the blanket still tangled around her legs. “Richard! The antidote worked! It worked, dear spirits, it worked!”

  Richard rose up onto an elbow. “Antidote?” He frowned at the three women around him. “Antidote to what?”

  “You were poisoned,” Kahlan told him. She aimed a thumb back over her shoulder. “Owen. When he came to us the first time, you gave him a drink. In thanks, he put poison in your waterskin. He intended to poison me with it, too, but only you drank it.”

  Richard’s glare settled on the men at Friedrich’s feet, watching them. He nodded his confirmation that it was true, as if he should be commended for it.

  “One of those little mistakes,” Jennsen said.

  Richard puzzled at her. “What?”

  “You said that even you made mistakes, and even a little one could cause big trouble. Don’t you remember? Cara said you were always making mistakes, especially simple ones, and that’s why you need her around.” Jennsen flashed him a teasing smile. “I guess she was right.”

  Richard didn’t correct the story, but said, as he stood, “It just goes to show how you can be taken by surprise by something as simple as that fellow over there.”

  Kahlan was watching Owen. “I have a suspicion he isn’t so simple.”

  Cara put her arm out for Richard to grab hold of in order to steady himself.

  “Cara,” he said as he had to sit down on a nearby crate from the wagon, “bring him over here, would you?”