“Six!” Jagang said. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night!”
She regarded him almost contemptuously. “Your bidding.”
Jagang glared at her. “Well, what is it, then?”
“A matter of something I agreed to obtain for you.”
She lifted out something that she’d had under her arm. Jennsen hadn’t seen it because it was so black that it was almost impossible to see in the dimly lit tent, to say nothing of being held against her black dress.
As he stared at the thing she held out, his mood began to brighten.
Jagang’s eyes were black. Six’s dress was black. Midnight on a moonless night in a cave in a thick forest was black. None of those things, though, could compare to the black of what the woman was holding. It was black beyond anything Jennsen had ever seen before. The thought occurred to her that when a person died, that was the kind of blackness that must enshroud them.
Jagang stared, his eyes wide with delight, a smile settling into his features. “The third box . . .”
Six didn’t look to share his abrupt good humor. “I have kept my bargain.”
“So you have,” Jagang said as he reverently lifted the box from her. “So you have.”
He finally set the inky black box on a chest. “What of the other matters?” he asked over a shoulder.
“I burned into their forces, scattering them. I have eliminated patrols when I found them. I scouted the routes for supply trains and insured that they could safely pass.”
“Yes, they have been getting through—and none too soon.”
“It will be vastly better simply to end this,” the woman said. “Have you been able to find the true copy of The Book of Counted Shadows?”
“No.” He grinned. “I believe, though, that I have the original.”
She gazed at him for a long time, as if weighing the truth of his words, or maybe just wondering if he was drunk.
“You believe you have found the original?” A humorless smile spread on her thin lips. “Why don’t you simply use your Confessor?”
“We had some . . . trouble. She managed to escape.”
Whatever Six was thinking she didn’t reveal it on her gaunt face. “Well, she is of limited use to you anyway.”
Jagang’s expression darkened. “Limited use or not, I have plans for her. Do you think you could find her and bring her to me? I would make it worth your while.”
Six shrugged. “If you wish. Let me see the book.”
Jagang went to a chest and pulled open a drawer. He recovered the book and handed it to her. Six held it between the flats of her hands for a long moment.
“Let me see the others.”
Jagang went to a different drawer in the chest and pulled out three more books, all looking to be the same size. He laid them side by side on a marble-topped table, then set an oil lamp beside them.
Six glided close, her arms folded, peering down at the three books one at a time. She placed the tips of her long, thin fingers on one of them. Her hand moved to a second book, pausing on it before finally going on to the third.
She gestured to the books on the table. “These three came after.” She pulled the original book he’d given her out from where she was holding it under an arm and waggled it before setting it down atop the other three. “This one came first.”
“Came first—as in original? Can you be sure?”
“I don’t take foolish chances. If it were a false copy, and because of that your Sister opened the wrong box, then I would lose everything I have planned and worked for and, considering my part in this, even my life.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
She shrugged. “I am a witch woman. I have talents. This is the original book. Use it. Open the correct box and your nightmares will end.”
Jagang stared for a moment, looking unhappy at the mention of his nightmares, but then he finally smiled. “Bring me the Confessor.”
Six smiled in a deadly sort of way. “You get everything ready, all set up, spells cast, callings done, and I will bring the Confessor to the party.”
Jagang nodded. “Sister Ulicia tells me that we need to get up into the Garden of Life.”
“While it’s not the only way, it would be the best way to insure success. You should take your Sister seriously.”
“I do take her seriously. Since she is the one who will open the box, with me within her mind of course, anything but getting it correct would be very unfortunate for her. If the Keeper of the underworld snatched her in that way, it would be the worst possible outcome for her, therefore getting it right is in her own best interest. I think that’s why she is so insistent on opening the box in the Garden of Life instead of doing it here.”
Six turned an intent look on Jennsen. “Use her. She’s Richard Rahl’s sister. One by one, everything is turning against him. Adding her life to the mix will only help to tip the balance.”
Jagang turned his black eyes on Jennsen. “Why do you think I had her brought here?”
Six shrugged. “I thought it was revenge.”
“I want to end this resistance to the will of the Order. If revenge was my goal with her, she would already be in the torture tents, screaming her life away. She is more use to the Order in other ways. My goal is for the Fellowship of Order to at last rule over mankind as they should by right.”
“Except for my portion of it,” Six said with a deadly glare.
Jagang smiled indulgently. “You are not a greedy partner in this, Six. Your request is quite modest. You can do as you wish with your little part of the world, under the guiding authority of the Order, of course.”
“Of course.”
“If the life of his sister doesn’t sway him, feel free to mention my name. Tell him that I would be happy to let fire rain down on him.”
Jagang looked inspired by the idea. “Good idea. As I always suspected of you from the first, you are proving to be quite a valuable ally, Six.”
“It is Queen Six, if you don’t mind.”
Jagang shrugged. “Not at all. I’m happy to give you your due, Queen Six.”
Chapter 51
Sitting in the darkness, leaning against the stone wall, nodding off from time to time, Rachel heard a sound outside the cell door that brought her head up. She sat up straighter, listening. She thought it sounded like distant footsteps.
She sank back against the cold stone of the wall. It was probably Six, come to take her back to the cave to start making her draw pictures in order to hurt people. In the stone room barren of even furniture there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Rachel didn’t know what she was going to do when Six told her to draw awful things to harm people. She didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to make pictures that she knew would hurt innocent people, but she knew that a witch woman would have ways to make her do those things. Rachel was afraid of Six, afraid of the woman hurting her.
There was no more awful feeling in the whole world than being all alone with someone who wanted to hurt you and knowing that you could do nothing to stop them.
She was starting to get tears just thinking about what might be coming, imagining what Six would do to her. She wiped away the tears, trying to think of something, anything, that could help her.
It had been a while since she’d seen the witch woman. It might not even be Six—it might be some of the guards bringing her a meal. A couple of the guards were men from before, from when Queen Milena had been alive. Rachel didn’t know their names, but she remembered seeing them in the past.
There were other men, though, that she didn’t recognize. They were soldiers from the Imperial Order. The old guards were never mean to her on purpose, but the new soldiers were different. They were wild-looking men. When they looked at her, Rachel just knew that they were thinking of doing unimaginably vile things to her. They were not the kind of men who didn’t seem at all worried about anyone stopping them—except maybe Six. They always stayed out of t
he witch woman’s way. She ignored them, expecting them to get out of her way.
Those men, though, watched Rachel in a way that scared her down to the marrow in her bones. Rachel worried about them catching her alone like this, without Six to keep them away. But the thought of Six coming to hurt her wasn’t much better.
Rachel had always hated it when she had lived at the castle before, when Queen Milena had been alive. She had lived in fear most of the time. She was hungry most of the time.
But this was different. This was worse—and she had never thought it could be worse.
She listened carefully to the footsteps outside as they came closer. She realized that it wasn’t the sound of a man’s boots she heard, but a lighter step. It was a woman’s footsteps.
That meant that it would be Six. That meant that it was the day she had been dreading. Six had promised that when she returned she would start having Rachel draw for her.
The lock clanged as the key turned. Rachel pushed back against the wall, wanting to run but knowing she couldn’t. The heavy iron door squeaked as it opened. Light from a lantern flooded into Rachel’s stone prison.
A form glided in, carrying the lantern. Rachel blinked when she saw the smile.
It was her mother.
Rachel jumped up in a rush. With tears suddenly flooding down her cheeks, she ran to the woman and threw her arms around her waist. She felt comforting hands come around her in a warm hug. Rachel wept with the joy of that unexpected hug.
“There, there. It’s all right, now, Rachel.”
And Rachel knew that it was. With her mother there everything was suddenly all right. The scary men, the witch woman, none of it mattered anymore. It was all right, now.
“Thank you for coming,” she said through her tears. “I’ve been so scared.”
Her mother squatted down, hugging her close. “I see that you used what I gave you the last time.”
Rachel nodded against her mother’s shoulder. “It saved me. It saved my life. Thank you.”
A comforting hand patted her back as her mother laughed softly at Rachel’s unrestrained happiness.
Rachel pushed away. “We must get away. Before that awful witch woman comes back, we have to get away. And there are soldiers—mean soldiers. You mustn’t let them see you. They might do terrible things to you.”
Wearing a radiant smile, her mother gazed at her. “We’re safe for right now.”
“But we have to get away from here.”
Still smiling, her mother nodded. “Yes, we must. But I need you to do something for me.”
Rachel swallowed back her tears. “Anything. You saved my life. The chalk you gave me saved me from the ghostie gobblies. They would have torn me apart. What you gave me saved my life.”
Her mother cupped her cheek. “You saved your own life, Rachel. You used your head and you saved your own life. I just gave you a little help when I knew you would need it.”
“But it was the help I needed.”
“I’m so very glad, Rachel. Now, I need your help.”
Rachel shrugged. “What could I do to help you? I’m not big enough to do much.”
Her mother smiled in a way that gave Rachel pause. “You are just the right size.”
Rachel couldn’t imagine what she could be the right size for. “What is it, then?”
Her mother picked up the lantern and stood. She reached out for Rachel’s hand. “Come. I will show you. I need you to carry a very important message to save someone else.”
As they moved out into the stone hallway, the lantern showed that the stone hallway was empty. The guards were nowhere to be seen.
Rachel liked the idea of helping someone else. She knew what it was like to be afraid and need help.
“You want me to carry a message?”
“That’s right. I know you’re brave, but I need you not to be frightened by what you see. There is nothing to fear, I promise.”
As they hurried through the halls, Rachel began to worry. She knew that her mother had helped her before. She wanted to return the favor.
Still, it sounded like it might be scary. When people said not to be afraid, that meant that there was something to be afraid of. Still, it couldn’t be more scary than the mean-looking men who stared at her, or as scary as a witch woman.
Chase had taught her that it was normal to be afraid, but that to survive you had to be the master of your fear in order to help yourself. Fear, he always said, couldn’t save you, but mastering it could.
Rachel looked up at her beautiful mother. “Who is the message for?”
“It’s to help a friend. Richard.”
“Richard Rahl? You know Richard?”
Her mother glanced down. “You know him, that’s what matters. You know that he is trying to help everyone.”
Rachel nodded. “I know.”
“Well, he is going to need some help. I need you to carry a message for me to see if we can get him the help he will need.”
“All right,” Rachel said. “I’d like to help him. I love Richard.”
Her mother nodded. “Good. He is a man worthy of your love.”
She paused before a heavy door to the side, then squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Don’t be afraid, now. All right?”
Rachel stared up at her mother, feeling flutters in her stomach. “All right.”
“There is nothing to fear. I promise. And I’ll be right here with you.”
Rachel nodded. Her mother pushed the door open out into the cold night air.
Rachel could see out through the doorway that the moon was up. Because Rachel had been in a dark cell, and there had only been the lamplight, she could see everything outside pretty well. It looked like a courtyard, with stone walls surrounding it. The courtyard appeared to be big enough not only for bushes, but for trees.
Together they stepped out into the chilly darkness.
Rachel froze stiff when she saw the glowing green eyes staring down at her.
Her breath caught in her throat, preventing the scream locked inside her from escaping.
Huge wings snapped open, spreading wide. With the moon behind those wings, Rachel could see veins pulsing in the skin stretched across the wings.
It was a gar.
Rachel just knew that in an instant the beast was going to tear both of them apart.
“Rachel, don’t be afraid,” her mother said in a gentle voice.
Rachel couldn’t move her legs. “What?”
“This is Gratch. Gratch is a friend of Richard’s.” She turned to the deadly beast and laid a hand on the great furry arm, giving it a soothing stroke. “Aren’t you, Gratch?”
The mouth split wide. Huge fangs glistened in the light of the lantern. The vapor of its breath hissed out between those fangs up into the cold air.
“Grrratch luuug Raaaach aaarg,” the creature growled.
Rachel blinked. It wasn’t a growl, exactly. It sounded like it had actually been words.
“Did it just say that it loved Richard?”
Gratch nodded earnestly. Rachel’s mother nodded.
“That’s right. Gratch loves Richard. The same as you.”
“Grrratch luuug Raaaach aaarg,” the beast repeated.
This time, Rachel could recognize better what Gratch had said.
“Gratch is here to help Richard. But we need you, too.”
Rachel finally took her eyes off the huge beast to look over at her mother.
“What can I do? I’m not big, like Gratch.”
“No, you aren’t. That’s why Gratch can carry you. And you, in turn, can carry a message.”
Chapter 52
Updrafts buffeted Richard as he stood on the narrow road leading from the People’s Palace down the side of the plateau. Nathan, standing to his left, leaned over the edge to take a look down the precipitous drop. Even at a time like this the prophet had the curiosity of a child. A thousand-year-old child, no less. Richard supposed that being kept as a prisoner one’s whole life cou
ld do that to a person.
Nicci, to Richard’s right, was in a quiet mood. Richard couldn’t say that he blamed her. Cara and Verna waited behind him. Both looked to be in a mood to throw someone off the side of the cliff. Richard knew, despite appearances, that it was really Nathan who was in the mood to do such a thing. Since he’d found out that Ann had been killed he had been quietly seething. Richard could easily understand such silent rage.
Gears squeaked and the heavy catch clattered as the guards worked to turn the crank to lower the bridge. As the heavy beams and planks slowly descended, Richard could finally begin to see the face of the solitary soldier standing on the other side, waiting. The first thing he saw were the dark eyes, glaring across the abyss.
The young man was big, just coming into his prime, with a massive chest and arms. Greasy strands of hair hung down to his powerful shoulders. He didn’t look to have bathed in his life. Richard could smell him from across the chasm.
The young man looked to be developing into a fine brute for the Imperial Order. He was an excellent example of a common Order soldier: a contemptuous, undisciplined thug, a young man governed by his lusts and emotions, and not in the least bit interested in the damage and suffering he caused in order to have what he wanted. He would be without mercy, compassion, or empathy for those he hurt. Their suffering would mean nothing to him. He was completely self-absorbed and devoted entirely to his own wants, not caring what he had to do to satisfy his desires.
He was typical of the regular Imperial Order soldiers Richard had seen.
Unaccustomed to consequences, he was a youth whose muscles had developed far in advance of his intellect, and so he would be only vaguely familiar with what it meant to be a civilized man. Worse, the concept would hold no interest for him, since it offered no immediate gratification of his urges.
He had been selected specifically to send a message. He was a reminder—in all his savage glory—of just what sort of men waited below on the Azrith Plain.
Still, the individual standing there by himself, in his dark leather armor plates, straps, studs, tattoos, and belts laden with crude weapons, really meant nothing. It was the mind of the man that mattered.
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