Sister Ulicia, despite how physically attractive she once had been, now appeared to reflect only the rot at her core.
Richard realized then that not only would Jagang and Sister Ulicia recognize him, but there would be other Sisters in the camp who also knew him.
He suddenly felt very vulnerable. Any of those Sisters could happen by at any time. He had nowhere to hide.
When he got close enough, Jagang would not fail to see that Lord Rahl, the very man he was after, was right there in his midst. Chained as he was, without his ability to use his Han, even as difficult as it had been for him to call forth his gift when he’d had access to it, Richard would be at Jagang’s mercy.
He had a sickening flash of a vision that Shota the witch woman had given him. It had been a vision of being executed. It had been raining in that vision, much as it was raining now. Kahlan had been there. In tearful terror she had watched as his wrists had been bound behind his back and he was made to kneel in the mud. As he knelt there, with Kahlan screaming his name, a big brute of a soldier came up behind him, promising to have Kahlan for himself as he brought a long knife around before Richard’s face, and then with a mighty effort cut deep through his throat. Richard realized that he was touching his throat, as if to comfort the gaping wound. He was panting in a panic.
He felt a hot wave of nausea welling up through him. Was this to be Shota’s vision come to life? Was this what she had been warning him about? Was this to be the day he died?
It was all happening too fast. He hadn’t been ready for this. But what could he have done to get ready?
“Ruben!” Commander Karg yelled. “Get up here!”
Richard struggled to get control of his emotions. He took a deep breath and worked to calm himself as he started moving, knowing that if he didn’t it was only going to get ugly even faster.
Not far away, the clot of men had stopped at the next team up the line. Richard could hear only the murmur of conversation over the sound of rain.
His mind raced, trying to think of what he could do before Jagang recognized him. He knew that he couldn’t hide behind the other men. He was point man. Jagang would want to see the team’s point man.
And then he caught a glimpse of Kahlan.
Richard moved as if in a dream. The whole cluster of men around the emperor and Kahlan had started turning in the direction of Richard and his team.
Knowing that he had to get up with the other men, Richard started to step over the chain attached to Johnrock’s collar. Just then he had an idea. He hurried forward and deliberately let his foot catch the chain. He fell face-first in the mud.
Commander Karg went red with rage. “Ruben—you clumsy idiot! Get on your feet!”
Richard scrambled to his feet as Jagang’s guards began parting for the emperor. Richard stood up tall next to Johnrock. With a finger, he wiped mud from his eyes.
He blinked to clear his vision. It was then that he spotted Kahlan. She was walking just behind Jagang. The hood of her cloak, pulled up to protect her against the rain, partially hid her face. Richard recognized every familiar movement of her body. No one moved quite the way she moved.
Their eyes met. He thought his heart might stop.
He remembered the first time he had seen her. She had looked so noble in that white dress. He remembered the way she had looked directly at him without speaking—a gaze that was questioning and at the same time guarded, a gaze that instantly and clearly conveyed her intelligence. He had never seen anyone before that moment who looked so . . . valiant.
He thought that he had probably been in love with her from that first instant, from that first look into her beautiful green eyes. He had been sure that in that first look into those eyes he had seen her soul.
Now there was all that, along with a hint of confused concern in her expression. Because of the way his gaze fixed on her, followed her, she was aware that he could see her. Being the object of the Chainfire spell, she wouldn’t remember who he was or, for that matter, who she was. Other than Richard and the Sisters who had taken her prisoner and ignited the Chainfire spell, no one could remember her. Obviously, Jagang was not affected by the spell. Richard surmised that it probably had something to do with a connection to the Sisters. But Kahlan would be invisible to everyone else.
She recognized, though, that Richard could see her. In the isolation imposed by the spell, that had to be something profoundly important and meaningful for her. In fact, by the look on her face, he could see that it was.
Before Jagang could begin to get close enough to inspect the team, a man called out as he ran up to the group. The emperor gestured him forward in a manner that suggested the man was well known. The guards parted for him as he made his way through their inner circle of protection. Since he carried only minimal weapons—a couple of knives—Richard reasoned that he was probably a messenger. He was winded but seemed to be in a great hurry.
When he made it to the emperor, the man bent close, speaking excitedly but in a low voice. At one point in his report, he gestured across the camp toward the area where the construction of the ramp was taking place.
Kahlan, pulling her gaze from Richard, looked over at the man speaking with Jagang.
Richard surveyed a cadre of other guards, closer in, who surrounded her. They weren’t the royal guard, and in fact they were careful to stay out of the way of the imposing royal guards. These men looked more like the regular soldiers of the camp. Their weapons weren’t well made. They had no chain mail or armor. Their clothes seemed to be a collection of whatever they could find that looked the part of the rest of the army. They were big men, young and strong, but they were not the match of the emperor’s guards. They looked more like common thugs.
Richard realized, then, that they could only be guarding Kahlan.
Unlike Jagang’s guards, who seemed unmindful of her presence, these men frequently glanced at Kahlan, checking on her every move. That could only mean that these men could see her. Jagang’s guards never looked at Kahlan, but these men did. Somehow, they were able to see her. Somehow, Jagang had found men to guard her who were not affected by the spell.
At first questioning if he was really right that they could see her, and confused by how such a thing was possible, Richard finally realized that it actually did make sense. The Chainfire spell, like the world of magic itself, had been contaminated by the chimes. That contamination eroded the ability of magic to function. The whole purpose of the chimes was to destroy magic. Because of the taint left by their presence in the world of life, the Chainfire spell’s very makeup had been impaired. When Zedd and Nicci had run the verification web, Richard had discovered the damage to the structure of the spell itself.
Because of that contamination within the Chainfire spell, it didn’t function as designed. It was flawed. It only made sense that such a flaw might allow a few people to escape its effects.
Richard remembered how the plague, sweeping through the population like a wildfire, didn’t touch everyone. There were a few people—even some who cared for the sick and dying—who never contracted the plague themselves. This must be something like that. There were bound to be a few people who weren’t affected by the Chainfire event and would therefore be able to see Kahlan. It would certainly explain why there were guards who could see her.
As those special guards, distracted by the man speaking to Jagang with such urgency, turned to try to see better what was happening with the emperor, Kahlan made a small move to turn with them. It looked perfectly natural; Richard knew it was anything but. As she turned, Kahlan adjusted the hood of her cloak against the rain, and as her hand came back down it passed close to one of her guards. Richard saw that the sheath at the man’s belt was empty. As Kahlan’s hand disappeared back under her cloak, Richard caught a brief glint of reflection off the blade. He wanted to laugh out loud, to cheer, but he didn’t dare move a muscle.
Kahlan caught him looking at her and realized that he had to have seen what she’d just do
ne. She watched him a moment to see if he might betray her. She was using the hood of her cloak to hide her face from those guarding her, to prevent them from seeing that she was looking obliquely at Richard. When he didn’t move, she turned and along with the guards watched what was going on between the messenger and the emperor.
Jagang suddenly swung around and started away, returning back the way he’d come, the messenger right on his heels. Kahlan briefly glanced back over a shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Richard before the guards could all close in around the emperor and his captive.
As she did so, and the hood of her cloak moved just enough, Richard saw the dark bruise on her left cheek.
Hot anger blazed through him. Every fiber of his being wanted to do something, to act, to get her away from Jagang, to get her out of this camp. His mind raced to come up with something, anything, but, chained as he was, there was nothing he could do. This was not the time or place he could act.
Worse, he knew that if he did nothing Jagang’s abuse of her would only continue. If he did nothing, and Kahlan suffered worse, Richard knew that he would never forgive himself.
Despite how desperately he wanted to do something, though, he could do nothing.
He stood silent and still, enduring the rage storming through him, a wrath that was the twin to the Sword of Truth, the sword he’d given up in order to find Kahlan.
Kahlan, the emperor, and all the guards vanished back into the churning grime of the encampment. Curtains of mist seemed to draw in behind them.
Richard stood trembling in bitter frustration. Not even the cold rain could cool his bottled fury. Even as his mind raced through every possible action, he knew that there was nothing he could do. Not now, anyway.
At the same time his heart ached for Kahlan. Agony for what she must be facing at the hands of such a man knotted his insides. His knees felt weak with his fear for her. He had to stiffen his resolve to keep himself from falling to the ground in tears.
If only he could get his hands on Jagang. If only . . .
Commander Karg strode up close in front of Richard. “You’re lucky,” he growled. “The emperor obviously had more important things to do than review my team and my clumsy point man.”
“I need some paint,” Richard said.
Commander Karg blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Paint. I need some.”
“You expect me to fetch paint for you?”
“Yes. I told you, I need it.”
“What for?”
Richard wagged a finger at the man’s face, resisting mightily the urge to whip a length of chain around the commander’s neck and strangle the life out of him. “Why do you have those tattoos?”
Confused, Commander Karg hesitated for a moment, considering the question as if it might have thorns in it.
“To make me look all the more fierce to the enemy,” he said at last. “Such a look gives me power. When the enemy sees our men, they see ferocious fighters. It strikes terror into their hearts. When they freeze for a moment in fear, we triumph.”
“That’s why I want the paint,” Richard said. “I want to paint the faces of our team so that it strikes fear into the hearts of our opponents. It will help us defeat them. It will help your team to triumph.”
Commander Karg studied Richard’s eyes for a moment, as if to gauge if he was serious or up to something.
“I have a better idea,” the commander said. “I will have tattoo artists come around and tattoo my entire team.” He tapped a finger on the scales covering the side of his face. “I will have them tattoo you all with scales and such all over your faces. It will make you all look like my men. When you all have tattoos like mine you will look like my team. Everyone will know you belong to me.”
The commander gave Richard a grim smile, pleased with his idea. “I will have you all pierced as well. You all will have tattoos and metal studs in your faces. You will all look like inhuman animals.”
Richard waited until the man was finished and then shook his head. “No. That won’t do. It’s not good enough.”
Commander Karg planted his fists on his hips. “What do you mean it’s not good enough?”
“Well,” Richard said, “you can’t see those kinds of tattoos from far enough away. I’m sure that they work just fine in battle, when you are in a face-to-face confrontation with the enemy, but it won’t be that way in the Ja’La games. Such tattoos would too easily be missed.”
“You are often as close on the Ja’La field as you are in battle,” Commander Karg said.
“Maybe,” Richard conceded, “but I want us to stand out not only to our opponents at the moment, not just to the men on the field, but also to other teams who will be watching—to everyone who is watching. I want everyone to see our painted faces and instantly recognize us. I want such a sight to plant fear in the minds of other teams. I want them to remember us and to worry.”
Commander Karg folded his muscled arms. “I want you to be tattooed so that you look like my team. So that all will know that it is Commander Karg’s team.”
“And if we lose? If we lose in a humiliating fashion?”
The commander leaned in a little as he glared. “Then you will be whipped at the least, and no longer of any use to me at worst. I think you know by now what becomes of captives who are of no use.”
“If that happens,” Richard said, “everyone will remember that the team you put to death for being inferior were all tattooed just like you. If we fail, they will remember the snake pattern of your tattoo on all of us. It would link us to you, but also you to us. If we lose, you will be stigmatized by that tattoo. If we lose, every time they see your tattooed face they will laugh at you.
“If we should for some reason happen to lose, paint can be washed off before we are whipped or worse.”
Commander Karg was beginning to grasp just what Richard meant. He visibly cooled as he scratched his jaw.
“I’ll see if I can’t come up with some paint.”
“Make it red.”
“Red? Why?”
“Red stands out. It will be memorable. Red also reminds people of blood. I want them to see us and before anything else wonder why we want to look like we are painted in blood. I want the other teams to worry about that the night before a game. I want them to sweat and lose sleep thinking about it. When they finally come to play us they will be tired and then we will make them bleed.”
A slow smile spread on Commander Karg’s face. “You know, Ruben, were you born on the right side of this war, along with me, I bet we would be good friends.”
Richard doubted that the man truly understood the concept of friendship, or could even appreciate such values.
“I’ll need enough paint for all the men,” Richard said.
Commander Karg nodded as he started away. “You will have it.”
Chapter 8
Kahlan hurried to stay close to Jagang as he marched through the camp lest he give her a stunning shock of pain through the collar. Of course, as he had demonstrated any number of times, he needed no excuse. She knew, though, that right then she had better not even look like she might give him cause, because he was in a hurry due to the strange news the man had brought.
She didn’t care so much about the news, though. Her mind was on the man she had finally seen again, the captive who had been brought in the day before.
As she moved through the encampment, thinking about the man, she watched not only her guards but also the common soldiers in the camp, looking for reactions that might indicate that they could see her, listening for any obscene remark that would betray them. All around, startled men stared at the heavily armed group making their way through the midst of their daily life, but she didn’t see a single man look directly at her, or show any other signs of seeing her.
Despite being men in an army led by the emperor himself, these men had probably never seen Jagang this close before. The army, all in one place, constituted a population that was larger tha
n almost any city. If these men had ever seen the emperor before, it was likely only at a great distance. Now, as he passed close by, they stared at him in open awe.
Kahlan noted in their reaction, and Jagang’s attitude toward them, the contradiction to the Order’s teachings of the absolute equality of all men. For his part, Jagang never showed any penchant for sharing the common life of his men, a daily existence in the filth and mud. They lived in a camp that was virtually lawless, involved in crimes of every sort with their unruly fellows, while Jagang always enjoyed protection from those theoretically equal to him in every way. Kahlan supposed that if they shared one thing, it was that they, like their emperor, lived lives of almost constant, irrational violence and complete indifference to human life.
Kahlan, invisible to the soldiers all around, stepped carefully over puddles and dung. She clutched the knife tightly in a fist under her cloak, unsure, yet, exactly what she would do with it. The opportunity to take the knife had suddenly presented itself and she had acted.
In such rough surroundings it felt good to have a weapon. The encampment was a frightening place, despite how invisible she was to nearly all the soldiers. Even though she knew that she had no hope of using the knife to escape Jagang, all of her special guards, and the Sisters, it still felt good to have a weapon. A weapon gave her a modicum of control, a way to defend herself—at least to a degree. More than that, though, a weapon symbolized how much she valued her life. Having it was a declaration to herself that she had not, and would not, give up.
If she had a chance, Kahlan would use the knife to try to kill Jagang. She knew that if she were to actually accomplish such a deed it would mean a sure death for her as well. She knew, too, that the Order would not falter because of the loss of the man. They were like ants. Stepping on one would not send the colony into retreat.
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