Behind him was a Mord-Sith wearing black leather. Even through his pain, Richard found himself astonished to see the woman. Kahlan had told him about her, but it was puzzling as to why there were Mord-Sith other than the ones he knew at the People’s Palace. The Mord-Sith, after all, were a creation of Richard’s more ruthless ancestors.
“Well, well, Lord Rahl, how nice to see you again.”
Again, a flip answer sprang to mind, but instead of giving voice to it, Richard didn’t say anything. This was all part of Ludwig Dreier’s elaborate scheme and nothing Richard could do or say was going to change the man’s plans.
The abbot walked to Samantha first, leaning down a little in order to look up into her face. “A sorceress, I see. How lovely. In the past I have been able to get useful prophecy from the gifted.” He tweaked her nose. “I believe you might come in handy, little one.”
“Let us go,” Samantha said, nearly in tears, “we’ve done nothing to you.”
“That’s a matter open to debate, but perhaps another time. It’s the middle of the night and I’m not in the mood for it.”
The Mord-Sith gave Samantha a cold, meaningful look as Ludwig Dreier moved on to Nicci.
“Another sorceress, I see,” he said. “But not merely a sorceress. A woman with skills and talents beyond those she was born with.”
Nicci glared at the man, and like Richard didn’t waste any effort in answering him. Nicci had grown up and spent most of her life in the clutches of sadistic men. She knew not to waste her time trying to talk reason to madness.
“Again, a gifted woman who I believe will be able to provide remarkable prophecy once properly prepared. I am sure her living entrails will reveal great secrets.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t you think?”
The Mord-Sith showed him a cunning smile. “I believe you may be correct, Lord Dreier.”
“Lord Dreier!” Richard said. “You have got to be kidding me. Why didn’t you just skip right to Emperor Dreier?”
The man’s intense focus turned to Richard. He moved closer. “An excellent suggestion, now that you mention it. I like the sound of that. Ah, but first I have work to do before that day comes.”
“What kind of work?” Richard asked before he remembered that he had planned on remaining silent.
“Well, you see, Hannis Arc has awakened the spirit king—with the aid of your gifted blood, no less—and that has made things more … chaotic, more complicated. I am going to need to use prophecy to help me overcome the obstacle of that remarkable event and such powerful men.” He held up a finger as he leaned closer. “But I assure you, I will.”
“You don’t have a clue as to what you’re up against,” Richard said as he glared.
Ludwig Dreier smiled as if it were a joke only he understood. “Actually, I do.”
“And what is it you want from us?” Richard asked.
The man flicked a hand as he walked on to Kahlan. “Many things. All in due time. We will start on that tomorrow. Tonight you can stand there as you wait until after I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I want to be well rested so that I can fully enjoy overseeing what is to come.”
He lifted Kahlan’s chin. When he withdrew his hand, Kahlan’s head flopped back down. Richard could see it reopen the wound across the front of her throat where the iron collar was cutting into her flesh from the weight of her head.
“Erika, be a dear and wake her for me, would you please?”
For the first time, the Mord-Sith, standing in front of Richard, staring at him the way Mord-Sith liked to do to intimidate a helpless victim, smiled. He understood all too well the meaning in that smile. She was telling him that she knew that she was really hurting him more than she could ever hurt Kahlan.
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Erika finally looked away from Richard as she turned. “With pleasure, Lord Dreier.”
The sound of the woman’s boots striking the stone floor as she strode over to Kahlan echoed around the dusty dungeon. Richard remembered that steady, deliberate sound all too well. Mord-Sith didn’t like to hurry in their work.
Without ceremony, Erika gritted her teeth and with a grunt of effort rammed her Agiel into Kahlan’s midsection.
Kahlan’s eyes and mouth opened wide as she woke with a shocked gasp of agony. She screamed, then, trying to back away, but she was already against the wall. She could do nothing as she hung defenseless. Richard could see not only the pain, but the bewildered shock of it on the face of the woman he loved more than his own life.
His growl of effort echoed around the room as he tried with all his might to rip the chains from the wall. The iron cut into his flesh, but the restraints did not budge.
The Mord-Sith finally withdrew her Agiel. Kahlan dropped, knees bent, as she hung in the collar and manacles. She gasped, trying to draw in a breath, unable to put weight on her legs. Her desperate, choking gasps were horrifying to hear. Blood mixed with saliva dripped in long strings from her chin.
The fact that she wasn’t unconscious from the poison inside, but rather from whatever occult powers Ludwig Dreier had used, was in a small way reassuring. But on the other hand, the poison had apparently weakened Kahlan more than him.
When she finally regained control, caught her breath, and managed to put some weight on her feet to take the pressure off the collar and manacles, Kahlan lifted her head to glare at the Mord-Sith.
“Erika.”
“Mistress Erika,” the Mord-Sith said with a smile. “You need to learn to address me properly.”
When Kahlan didn’t answer, Erika again rammed her Agiel into Kahlan’s midsection. Kahlan shook as she cried out in agony.
She slumped when Erika withdrew the weapon and hung for a time, gasping for air, her whole body trembling. It was longer the second time before she began to recover from the pain enough to draw a breath. Richard would have traded his life at that moment to be able to kill the Mord-Sith.
Ludwig Dreier lifted a hand to stay Erika from using her Agiel a third time.
“Well, Mother Confessor,” he said, stepping closer, “it looks like we have you back with us again.”
Kahlan spit out blood to the side and then glared at the man. “You do know, don’t you, Abbot, that I’m going to kill you?”
“Well, I do know that wizards keep their promises, but I don’t believe that the same certitude applies to the promises of Confessors.”
“In this case it does,” Kahlan said with venom. “You are already dead. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Yes, yes, threat given, fine. Consider me suitably terrified, if it makes you happy, but it’s late and as enjoyable as this is, I don’t feel like any more chitchat tonight.”
Ludwig lifted her chin to make her look into his eyes. Richard hoped that Kahlan had enough sense not to spit in his face. He knew that when she was angry she would do just about anything, and she was angry. Thankfully, she only glared.
“You and I have unfinished business,” he told her as he smiled in a way that sent a chill through Richard. “You see, I firmly believe that a Confessor will be able to bring forth remarkable prophecy, prophecy more important than even sorceresses, prophecy unlike any other living person would be able to give. I have never before had such an opportunity, but at last I do, and I intend to exploit it to the fullest possible extent. I have practiced my special craft for many years, for just such an occasion as you will provide.”
“‘Special craft’? That’s a pathetic excuse for torture. The simple truth is you get sick pleasure out of crippling and maiming people. Deep down inside you know that everyone thinks of you as nothing more than a sadistic pervert, so you try to justify it, give it a cause that you pretend is noble. But you are fooling no one. Everyone knows the truth.”
He lifted a hand, gesturing dismissively. “I admit, it’s true that I do find a … unique satisfaction in taking people to that place, where the pain is so intense that they can actually look over to the other side as they beg fo
r release. It is then, through my special ability, that they are able to pull prophecy from the eternity of the underworld.
“Yes, I enjoy my calling, but who doesn’t enjoy being able to do well what they were born to do? Don’t you enjoy using your power as it was intended, Mother Confessor? Of course you do—I can see in your eyes how much you long to use it right now. How sad for you that you can’t call upon it any longer.
“So yes, I enjoy using my special abilities. I do love to watch less important people as they are on the cusp, quivering and trembling as the tears flow. You see, pain opens recognition, and agony begets redemption through prophecy.
“Over the years, I have learned that gifted people give the most noteworthy prophecy. I believe, however, that a Confessor may very well give the most remarkable prophecy yet, truly unique and useful prophecy. After I’ve finished with the sorceresses, of course. I want you to ‘marinate’ in terror, for a while, first.”
He patted the side of her face, the way a doting master might pat the head of a dog. “I do admit, I am going to enjoy immensely seeing the look on your husband’s face as I pull your intestines out and wind them on a stick while you scream and cry and shudder and shake. So you see, no excuse is needed. I simply do so much enjoy my work.
“Maybe your disagreeable attitude will improve, then, when only I can help you. Maybe then, when only I can offer you your final release, you will be more respectful of those who are smarter and better than you.”
Kahlan glared openly. “You are a pathetic freak of nature.”
Richard knew by the look in her eyes that if she had suffered a moment of weakness, and wanted to leave the world to fend for itself, that moment was past. In that moment, he saw that there was no way she was going to quit. She wanted nothing more than to fight.
Richard saw a look of raw hatred in Dreier’s eyes, a hatred fueled by rage at anything good and wholesome, a hatred that wanted only to destroy for the sake of destroying.
“If you only knew what I have in store for you.…”
“Enjoy the deluded dream,” Kahlan said with calm authority only the Mother Confessor could invoke, “because I am going to kill you.”
Ludwig Dreier straightened with an angry glare.
“Would you like me to begin on her now?” Erika asked.
He considered but finally waved a hand. “No, it’s been a long day, making plans, and standing behind that sheet while we waited for them to arrive.”
He turned a smile on Richard. “You see, Lord Rahl, the value of prophecy? I value and respect prophecy. Knowing prophecy, understanding it, knowing how to use it put you there, in chains, and me about to retire to a nice, comfortable bed with agreeable company to bring me pleasures and delights.”
He turned back from the doorway. “Enjoy your night, all. Tomorrow we begin. Come along Erika. Oh, and take the torches. They have no need of light. Let them be in the dark. After all, they have been the whole time up until now.”
The Mord-Sith pulled both torches out of the brackets and took them, giving Richard and Kahlan one last, icy look. The door slammed shut, leaving the four of them suddenly alone in the pitch-black cell. He heard the key turn in the rusty lock. The bolt finally clanged into place.
“Kahlan,” he whispered, “no matter what is to come, just remember that I love you. He can’t ever take that away.”
That, Richard thought, was why the man hated them so passionately. People like him hated that others could value such simple happiness in life. That was what they wanted most to destroy.
“I know, Richard. I love you, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Nicci said. “We’re going to get out of here.”
“What makes you think so?” Richard asked.
“We have to,” she said with simple conviction. “The Mother Confessor has vowed to kill him, and I believe her.”
“That’s the toasted toad’s truth,” Kahlan said in the darkness.
Despite everything, Richard smiled.
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Several hours after Ludwig Dreier and Erika had left, Richard heard people out in the hall talking in low, muffled voices. He lifted his head and looked off across the room, even though in the pitch black he couldn’t see anything at all. The blackness was oppressive, making him feel blind, making him feel that he was sinking into the darkness within him.
“Do you hear that?” Kahlan whispered.
“I hear it,” Samantha whispered back. “It’s someone talking.”
“It sounds like a woman’s voice,” Richard said as he tried to make out the words, but couldn’t.
“Probably that Mord-Sith, Erika,” Nicci said, “come to give us a good-night kiss with her Agiel.”
Richard didn’t know how long they had been unconscious while being hung up in the chains pinned to the stone wall, but he was pretty sure it was still a long way from morning, so he didn’t think that it was Ludwig Dreier returning this soon.
But knowing Mord-Sith the way he did, it wouldn’t surprise Richard one bit if Nicci was right.
He heard a key turning the rusty lock until the bolt clanged back. The sound echoed around in the darkness, dying out after a long moment. The iron door squealed in protest as it was finally pulled open, the sound echoing in the stone dungeon.
Richard squinted in the bright shafts of flickering torchlight suddenly thrown into the room through the open door. After being in total darkness for so long, the light seemed impossibly bright. After a moment, his eyes began to adjust.
Still squinting, he saw three figures enter. They brought two torches. He was surprised to see that it was three Mord-Sith, all in black leather. A fourth person remained back in the darkness of the stone corridor just outside the doorway.
The Mord-Sith placed the pair of torches in the iron wall brackets. Three Mord-Sith were more than enough to handle four helpless prisoners. Richard couldn’t stand the thought of Samantha or Nicci being hurt by those women, but the thought of Kahlan being hurt by them caused his anger to ignite yet again.
Being in the shackles, he couldn’t reach his sword, but it was still on his hip. They had probably left it there because it helped remind him of how helpless he was. People like Dreier liked to make people feel helpless.
If ever there was an argument as to why he couldn’t quit the struggle, this was it—innocent people helpless against brutality. The sword was a reminder that while others were often helpless, he had the ability to act on their behalf. Except right at that moment he couldn’t reach his sword to help himself, much less anyone else.
But having the sword on his hip did keep the anger close. Every time his anger flared, the sword’s anger rose expectantly. He could feel it seething to be let loose.
The tallest of the three women stepped confidently to him. Like the others, she was blond, muscular, and wore the traditional long, single braid that all Mord-Sith wore. He found the black leather, though, to be less impressive than the red. The red had a purpose that, because of its practical aspect, actually made Mord-Sith look all the more intimidating. It was meant to mask the presence of large quantities of blood, so the red leather thereby emphasized the unsettling purpose of Mord-Sith. The black was a crude and graceless attempt by the man who made them wear it to create something more menacing. Richard suspected that Ludwig Dreier thought he could make death more frightening than the Keeper himself.
Rather than the other two going to the women chained to the wall, they stayed close behind the one looking into Richard’s eyes.
“I am Cassia,” she finally said. She briefly lifted a hand back to the other two. “This is Laurin and Vale.”
Richard thought that maybe he could focus their cruel attention on him, and make them forget the others.
“Out for an evening stroll, are we?” he asked.
Cassia smiled crookedly with one side of her mouth. “I had heard that you had a sense of humor. Strange quality for a man in your position.”
Richard braced
himself for her Agiel, but it didn’t come.
She shook her head, instead. “No. We have come to ask you some questions.”
Although Richard heard no hostility in her voice, he groaned inwardly. He knew all too well what it meant for a Mord-Sith to ask questions. What he found a bit odd was her informal tone. It wasn’t the icy voice Mord-Sith typically used when they meant to torture answers out of a person.
“What is it you want to know?”
“We have heard rumors about you. We want to know if they are true. If you lie to us … well, I think you know what will happen if you lie to us.”
“Yes. Denna taught me.”
That gave all three pause. The two behind Cassia shared a look. Richard wondered how they knew Denna, yet came to be here.
“You knew Denna?” Cassia asked. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes. Darken Rahl had her capture me. She had me for a long time, and in that time she taught me a lot of things.”
Cassia nodded with an intent expression. “I knew Denna. I knew her well at one time.” Her brow twitched with a puzzled look. “If Denna had you, and was training you, then how is it that you got away from her? Darken Rahl would have sent Denna for only one reason. People did not get away from Denna.”
Richard didn’t shy away from Cassia’s steady, blue-eyed gaze. “I did. Now, what is it you want to know?”
“Answer the question I asked, first, and this will be a lot easier—for all of us.”
Richard’s whole body ached from being restrained and unable to sit or lie down. His legs hurt, his back hurt, and his head pounded. He didn’t know what kind of occult powers Ludwig Dreier had used to subdue them, but the aftermath was painful.
“I killed her,” Richard said as he looked Cassia in the eye. “That’s how I got away. I killed her. I don’t wish to talk about it. Despite what she did to me, she was only doing what she did because she had been broken.”
Cassia nodded, seeming to understand. Richard didn’t quite know what to think of that. This woman was not reacting the way a Mord-Sith typically acted when she was intent on getting answers, or when she had been sent to torture a victim.
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