Blood of the Fold

by Terry Goodkind

  In Kolo’s time hundreds of wizards lived at the Keep, and it was alive with families, friends, and children. The now empty halls had at one time rung with laughter, conversation, and lighthearted rapport. Several times Kolo mentioned Fryda, probably his wife, and his son and younger daughter. Children were restricted to certain levels in the Keep, and went to lessons where they studied typical subjects like reading, writing, and mathematics, but also prophecy and the use of the gift.

  But over this great Keep, teeming with life, work, and the joy of families, hung a pall of dread. The world was at war.

  Among Kolo’s other duties was his turn at standing guard over the sliph. Richard remembered the mriswith in the Keep asking him if he had come to wake the sliph. It had pointed down at the room where they had found Kolo’s journal and said she was accessible at last. Kolo, too, referred to the sliph as “she,” sometimes mentioning that “she” was watching him as he wrote in the journal.

  Because it was such a struggle to decipher the journal from High D’Haran, they had abandoned skipping around since it only tended to confuse them. It was easier to start at the beginning and translate every word as they went, thus learning Kolo’s idiosyncrasies in the way he used language, making it easier to recognize patterns in his expressions. They were only about a fourth of the way into the journal, but the process was speeding up considerably as Richard was learning High D’Haran.

  While Richard leaned back and yawned again, Berdine bent toward him. “What is this word?”

  “‘Sword,’” he responded without hesitation. He remembered the word from The Adventures of Bonnie Day.

  “Huh. Look here. I think Kolo is speaking about your sword.”

  The front legs of Richard’s chair thumped down as he came forward. He took the book and the piece of paper she had been using to write out the translation. Richard scanned the translation, and then went back to the journal, forcing himself to read it in Kolo’s words.

  The third attempt at forging a Sword of Truth failed today. The wives and children of the five men who died roam the halls, wailing in inconsolable anguish. How many men will die before we succeed, or until we abandon the attempt as impossible? The goal may be worthy, but the price is becoming terrible to bear.

  “You’re right. It seems he’s talking about when they were trying to make the Sword of Truth.”

  Richard felt a chill at learning that men had died in the making of his sword. In fact, it made him feel a little sick. He had always thought of the sword as an object of magic, thinking that maybe it had simply been a plain sword at one time that some powerful wizard had cast a spell over. Learning that people died in the effort to make it made him feel ashamed that he took it for granted most of the time.

  Richard went on to the next part of the journal. After an hour of consulting the lists and Berdine, he had it translated.

  Last night, our enemies sent assassins through the sliph. Had the man on duty not been so alert, they would have succeeded. When the towers are ignited, the Old World will truly be sealed away, and the sliph will sleep. Then we can all rest easier, except the unlucky man on guard. We have concluded that we will have no way of knowing when the spells will be ignited, if they ever are, or if anyone is in the sliph, so the guard cannot be called away in time. When the towers are brought to life, the man on guard will be sealed in with her.

  “The towers,” Richard said. “When they completed the towers, sealing the Old World from the New World, that room was also sealed. That’s why Kolo was down there. He couldn’t get out.”

  “Then why is the room open now?” Berdine asked.

  “Because I destroyed the towers. Remember I told you that it looked like Kolo’s room had been blasted open within the last few months? How the mold on the walls had been burned away and hadn’t had time to regrow? It must have happened because I destroyed the towers. It also unsealed Kolo’s room for the first time in three thousand years.”

  “Why would they seal the room with the well?”

  Richard had to force himself to blink. “I think this sliph thing Kolo keeps talking about lives in that well.”

  “What is this sliph? The mriswith mentioned it, too.”

  “I don’t know, but somehow they used the sliph, whatever it is, to travel to other places. Kolo talks about the enemy sending assassins through the sliph. They were fighting the people in the Old World.”

  Berdine lowered her voice in worry as she leaned toward him. “You mean to say that you think these wizards could travel from here all the way to this Old World, and back?”

  Richard scratched the itch at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Berdine. It sounds that way.”

  Berdine was still staring at him as if she thought he might be about to show further evidence that he was going mad. “Lord Rahl, how could that be possible?”

  “How should I know?” Richard glanced out the window. “It’s late. We’d better get some sleep.”

  Berdine yawned again. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  Richard shut Kolo’s journal and tucked it under an arm. “I’m going to read a bit in bed until I fall asleep.”

  Tobias Brogan peered at the mriswith on the coach, and the one inside, and to the others among his columns of men, the sunrise glinting off their armor. He could see all the mriswith; none were invisible to sneak up on him and listen. His anger boiled at the sight of the side of the Mother Confessor’s head in the coach. It enraged him that she was still alive, and that the Creator had forbade him from laying a blade to her.

  He glanced sideways briefly, to make sure Lunetta was close enough to hear him if he spoke softly.

  “Lunetta, I’m beginning to become very disturbed about this.”

  She stepped her horse closer as they rode so she could speak with him, but she didn’t look over in case any of the mriswith were watching. The Creator’s messengers or not, she didn’t like the scaled creatures.

  “But Lord General, you said that when the Creator has come to speak with you he told you that you must do this. You are most honored to be visited by the Creator, and to do his work.”

  “I think the Creator…”

  The mriswith on the coach stood and pointed with a claw as they crested the hill. “Seeee!” it cried out in a sharp hiss, adding a guttural clicking after the word.

  Brogan lifted his head to see a great city spread out below them, with the glittering sea beyond. In the center of the vast sprawl of buildings, with a golden, sunlit river splitting to go around the island atop which it sat, was a huge palace, its towers and roofs sparkling in the sunrise. He had seen cities before, he had seen palaces before, but he had never seen such as this. Despite not wanting to be here, he was awed.

  “It be beautiful,” Lunetta breathed.

  “Lunetta,” he whispered. “The Creator visited me again last night.”

  “Really, my lord general? That be wonderful. You be honored to be visited so often of late. The Creator must have great plans for you, my brother.”

  “The things he tells me are becoming more and more unsound.”

  “The Creator? Unsound?”

  Brogan’s gaze slid over to meet his sister’s. “Lunetta, I believe there is trouble. I believe the Creator is going insane.”

  45

  When the coach stopped, the mriswith climbed out, leaving the door open. Kahlan glanced out the window to one side and the door to the other, seeing that the mriswith were moving off to talk. The two of them were at last alone.

  “What do you think is going on?” she whispered. “Where are we?”

  Adie leaned to the side, looking out the window. “Dear spirits,” she whispered in dismay, “we be in the heart of enemy territory.”

  “Enemy territory? What are you talking about? Where are we?”

  “Tanimura,” Adie whispered. “That be the Palace of the Prophets.”

  “The Palace of the Prophets! Are you sure?”

  Adie straightened in the seat. “I be sure. I s
pent time here when I be younger, fifty years ago.”

  Kahlan stared incredulously. “You went to the Old World? You have been to the Palace of the Prophets?”

  “It be a long time ago, child, and a long story. We not have time for the story just now, but it be after the Blood killed my Pell.”

  They rode until well after dark, and were on their way long before the sun came up each day, but Kahlan and Adie were at least able to get some sleep in the coach. The men riding horseback got little sleep. A mriswith, and sometimes Lunetta, always guarded them, and they hadn’t been able to speak more than a few words in weeks. The mriswith didn’t care if they slept, but had warned them what would happen if they spoke. Kahlan didn’t doubt their word.

  Over the weeks as they traveled south, the weather had become warmer, and she no longer shivered in the coach, she and Adie pressed together for a little warmth.

  “I wonder why they brought us here?” Kahlan said.

  Adie leaned closer. “What I wonder is why they haven’t killed us.”

  Kahlan peeked out the window to see a mriswith speaking with Brogan and his sister. “Because we are of more value to them alive, obviously.”

  “Value for what?”

  “What do you think? Who would they want? When I tried to rally the Midlands, they sent that wizard to kill me, and I had to flee as Aydindril slipped into the hands of the Imperial Order. Who is forging the Midlands in opposition to them now?”

  Adie’s eyebrows went up above her white eyes. “Richard.”

  Kahlan nodded. “That’s all I can think of. They had started to take the Midlands, and were having success by getting lands to join with them. Richard changed the rules, and disrupted those plans by forcing the lands to surrender to him.”

  Kahlan stared off out the window. “As much as it hurts to admit it, Richard may have done the only thing that has a chance to save the people of the Midlands.”

  “How can we be used to get to Richard?” Adie patted Kahlan’s knee. “I know he loves you, Kahlan, but he not be stupid.”

  “Neither is the Imperial Order.”

  “What else could it possibly be, then?”

  Kahlan looked into Adie’s white eyes. “Have you ever seen the Sanderians hunt a mountain lion? They tie one of their lambs to a tree, letting it bleat for its mother. Then they sit and wait.”

  “You think we be lambs tied to a tree?”

  Kahlan shook her head. “The Imperial Order may be vicious and cruel, but they are not stupid. By now they will not believe Richard is, either. Richard would not trade one life in exchange for the freedom of all, but he has also shown them that he is not afraid to act. They could be tempting him to think he could effect a rescue without having to surrender anything.”

  “Do you think they be right?”

  Kahlan sighed. “What do you think?”

  Adie’s cheeks pushed back in a humorless smirk. “As long as you be alive, he would draw his sword on a lightning storm.”

  Kahlan watched Lunetta climb down from her horse. The mriswith were walking away, toward the rear of the columns of crimson-caped men.

  “Adie, we have to escape, or Richard will come after us. The Order must be counting on his coming, or we would be dead.”

  “Kahlan, I cannot even light a lamp with this cursed collar around my neck.”

  Kahlan sighed in frustration as she looked back out the window and saw the mriswith moving off into the dark woods. As they walked, they drew their capes around themselves and vanished.

  “I know. I can’t touch my power either.”

  “Then how can we escape?”

  Kahlan watched the sorceress dressed in scraps of different-colored cloth as she approached the coach. “If we could turn Lunetta to our side, she could help us.”

  Adie let out a disagreeable grunt. “She will not turn against her brother.” Adie’s brow wrinkled in puzzled thought. “She be an odd one. There be something strange about her.”

  “Strange? Like what?”

  Adie shook her head. “She touches her power all the time.”

  “All the time?”

  “Yes. A sorceress, or a wizard for that matter, only calls upon their power when they need it. She be different. For some reason, she be touching her power all the time. I have never seen her not clutching it around herself, like her colored cloth patches. It be very odd.”

  Both of them fell to silence as Lunetta huffed with the effort of climbing into the coach. She dropped into the seat opposite and gave them a pleasant smile; she looked to be in a good mood. Kahlan and Adie returned the smile. As the coach lurched ahead, Kahlan rearranged herself in the seat, taking the opportunity to check out the window. She didn’t see any mriswith, but that didn’t always mean anything.

  “They be gone,” Lunetta said.

  “What?” Kahlan cautiously asked.

  “The mriswith be gone.” The all grabbed the handles in the coach as it bounced over ruts. “They told us to go on alone.”

  “To where?” Kahlan asked, hoping to engage the woman in conversation.

  Lunetta’s eyes brightened beneath her fleshy brow. “The Palace of the Prophets.” She leaned forward excitedly. “It be a place full of streganicha.”

  Adie scowled. “We not be witches.”

  Lunetta blinked. “Tobias says we be streganicha. Tobias be the lord general. Tobias be a great man.”

  “We not be witches,” Adie repeated. “We be women with the gift, given us by the Creator of all things. The Creator would not give us something vile, would he?”

  Lunetta didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Tobias says the Keeper gave us our vile magic. Tobias never be wrong.”

  Adie smiled at the growing scowl on Lunetta’s face. “Of course not, Lunetta. Your brother seems a great and powerful man, just as you say.” Adie rearranged her robes as she crossed a leg. “Do you feel as if you be evil, Lunetta?”

  Lunetta frowned in thought a moment. “Tobias says I be evil. He tries to help me do good, to make up for the Keeper’s taint. I help him root out evil so he can do the Creator’s work.”

  Kahlan could tell that Adie was getting nowhere, except perhaps to anger Lunetta, and so changed the subject before things went too far. Lunetta, after all, had control of their collars.

  “Have you been to the Palace of the Prophets often?”

  “Oh, no,” Lunetta said. “This be the first time. Tobias says it be a house of evil.”

  “Why would he take us there, then?” Kahlan asked in an offhanded manner.

  Lunetta shrugged. “The messengers said we are to go there.”

  “Messengers?”

  Lunetta nodded. “The mriswith. They be the Creator’s messengers. They tell us what to do.”

  Kahlan and Adie sat in stunned silence. At last Kahlan found her voice. “If it’s a house of evil, it seems odd that the Creator would want us go there. Your brother doesn’t seem to trust the Creator’s messengers.” Kahlan had seen Brogan casting scowls in their direction as they walked off into the woods.

  Lunetta’s beady eyes moved between them. “Tobias said I should not talk about them.”

  Kahlan twined her fingers together over a knee. “You don’t think the messengers would hurt your brother, do you? I mean, if the palace is a place of evil, as your brother says…”

  The squat woman leaned forward. “I would not let them. Mamma said I was always to protect Tobias, because he be more important than me. Tobias be the one.”

  “Why did your mamma—”

  “I think we should be quiet now,” Lunetta said in a dangerous tone.

  Kahlan relaxed back in the seat and looked out the window. It didn’t seem to take much to raise Lunetta’s ire. Kahlan decided that it would be best if Lunetta were not pressed for now. Lunetta, at Brogan’s urging, had already experimented with the control the collar afforded her.

  Kahlan watched as the buildings of Tanimura went past the window and tried to imagine Richard being here, seeing the
same sights. It made her feel closer to him, seeing things his eyes had seen, and eased the terrible longing in her heart.

  Dear Richard, please don’t come into this trap to save me. Let me die. Save the Midlands, instead.

  Kahlan had seen a great many cities, every one in the Midlands, and this was the equal to most. On the outskirts, there were ramshackle huts, many no more than lean-tos erected against some of the older, shabby buildings and warehouses. As they moved on into the city, the buildings became more grand, and there were shops of every sort. They passed several large markets with jumbles of people in every bright color of dress.

  Everywhere in the city was the constant beat of drums. It was a slow rhythm, and grating on the nerves. As Lunetta glanced around, her eyes searching out the men at drums when they became louder as they rode along, Kahlan could see that she didn’t like them either. Out the window, Kahlan could see Brogan riding close to the coach, and the drums were making him jumpy, too.

  The three of them grabbed at the handles again as the coach bounced up onto a stone bridge. The iron wheels let out a grating racket as they crossed the stone. Through the window, Kahlan could see the palace looming overhead as they crossed the river.

  In an expansive courtyard of green lawns fringed with trees near soaring sections of the palace, the coach rocked to a halt. The crimson-caped men all about sat tall in their saddles, making no move to dismount.

  Brogan’s sour face suddenly appeared in the window. “Get out,” he growled. Kahlan started to rise. “Not you. I’m talking to Lunetta. You stay where you are until you’re told to move.” He knuckled his mustache. “Sooner or later, you’re mine. Then you pay for your filthy crimes.”

  “The mriswith aren’t going to let their little lapdog have me,” Kahlan said. “The Creator won’t allow one such as you to put your filthy hands on me. You are nothing more than dirt under the Keeper’s fingernails, and the Creator knows it. He hates you.”

  Kahlan felt the collar send a searing pain into her legs, preventing her from moving, and another shard into her throat, squelching her voice. Lunetta’s eyes were ablaze. But Kahlan had said what she had wanted to say.