Phantom (62 page)

“Don’t you see? That was too easy. Richard was born to fight this battle, now, with Jagang and with what the Sisters of the Dark have done by putting the boxes of Orden in play. This, now, is an extension of the same final battle begun with Darken Rahl.

“I think the prophecies may hint that Richard learned the wrong key: ‘Be cautioned, for all true forks and their derivatives are tangled in this mantic root.’ All true forks—true keys?—are on the prophetic root of this final battle. It says that the other forks are false. Maybe other forks contain the false keys.

“Couldn’t it be said that the battle against Darken Rahl was a false fork? Ann and Nathan didn’t know enough at the time—not enough events had unfolded, so they went down that fork, preparing Richard to fight Darken Rahl, not Jagang. But this prophecy says, ‘If
fuer grissa ost drauka
does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.’

“That terrible shadow is the power of Orden unleashed by the Sisters of the Dark. They want to darken the world of life. Ann, Nathan, and Richard were preparing for the wrong battle. This is the battle he was meant to fight.”

Zedd paced, his face creased in thought. He halted, finally, and turned to her. “Maybe, Nicci. Maybe. You’ve spent a great deal more time studying prophecy than I have. Maybe you have something.

“But then, maybe you don’t. Prophecy, as Nathan has explained, is not subject to study the way you have just explained. Prophecy is a means of communication between prophets. It can’t necessarily be studied, analyzed, or understood by those without the gift for prophecy.

“Just like Ann and Nathan may have jumped to conclusions without sufficient information, I think it’s also too early for you to draw such conclusions.”

Nicci nodded, conceding his point. “I hope you’re right, Zedd—I really do. This is not an argument I want to win. I’m only bringing it up because I think we need to consider the implications.”

He nodded. “There is something else to consider. Richard doesn’t take to prophecy. He is a creature of free will, and prophecy has a way of having to open up to accommodate him. In this case, with Darken Rahl, maybe Darken Rahl was a false fork, but had he won there are prophetic roots to cover that eventuality as well. Proponents of prophecy would have pointed to them to confirm that Darken Rahl was the true root. We would now find ourselves on one of those other branches, and this one would be false. You can find a prophecy to support just about any belief.”

“I don’t know,” Nicci said as she ran her fingers back through her hair, “perhaps you’re right.”

She was so tired. She needed to get some sleep; maybe then she could think more clearly. Maybe her worry was causing her to race down false trails.

“There is no way we can say at this point if the copies of
The Book of Counted Shadows
, the one I found and the one Richard knows, are true keys or false.”

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

Zedd halted his pacing and faced her. “We’re going to get Richard back, and he is going to find a way to stop this threat.”

Nicci smiled. He had a way of making her feel better in the darkest of times—just the way Richard did.

“But I’ll tell you one thing,” Zedd said. “Before that time comes, we had better find out if the key he memorized is the true or the false key.”

Nicci closed the cover on
The Book of Life
and picked it up, holding it in the crook of her arm. “I need to learn this whole book, cover to cover. I need to find out if there is a way to do what Richard asked of me—take the boxes back out of play, or somehow annul the threat.

“Failing that, I had better know it inside and out so that I can hopefully be useful to Richard in finding an answer to it all.”

Zedd appraised her eyes. “That’s going to be a great deal of work. It’s going to take a lot of time—a book that complex could take months to fully understand. I only hope we have that much time. I have to say, though, that I agree with you. I guess that you had better get started right away.”

Nicci slipped the book back into a pocket in her dress. “I guess that I
had better. There may be books here that would help. If there are any I can think of, or that are mentioned, I’ll let you know. From what I’ve seen so far, there are technical matters I may need help with. If I get stuck, I could use the help of the First Wizard.”

Zedd smiled. “You have it, my dear.”

She shook a finger at him. “But if you come up with a way to find Richard, you had better tell me before you finish having the thought.”

Zedd’s smile widened. “Agreed.”

“What if we don’t find Lord Rahl?” Cara asked.

The other two stared at her. Thunder rumbled through the distant valley. Rain pattered steadily against the windows.

“Well get him back,” Nicci insisted, refusing to consider the unthinkable.

“Nothing is ever easy,” Zedd muttered.

Despite how weary she was of riding, Kahlan was awestruck by the sight rising up in the distance. Past a dark flood tide of men of the Imperial Order, across the purple-gray shadows settling across the vast plain, rose an enormous plateau, catching the last golden rays of the setting sun.

On that plateau stood a place as vast as any city. The high outer walls glowed in the waning evening light. White marble, stucco, and stone making up the vast array of buildings in an endless variety of sizes, shapes, and heights shimmered with the departing blush of daylight. Roofs sheltered the place from the coming cold night of the dying season as if gathering it all up under protective skirts.

It was like seeing something good, something noble, something beautiful, after all she had seen for endless weeks of travel had been grim, brooding men restless for someone upon whom to vent their vile nature.

It felt to Kahlan as if it were a desecration having these men in the shadow of such a place as this. She felt ashamed to be among the profane rabble gathered at the feet of such a shining accomplishment of man so proudly rising up before them. Just looking at the place for some reason made her heart sing. Though she couldn’t recall ever having seen it before, she felt as if she should have.

All around them were grunting men, baying mules, snorting horses, creaking wagons, and the clang of armor and weapons—the sounds of the beast come to slay all that was good. The stench was like a toxic cloud that always followed along with them to serve to remind anyone they came upon just how unwholesome these men really were. As if anyone would need the additional clue.

All around Kahlan rode the special guards who for weeks now had kept a watchful eye on her. There were forty-three of them. Kahlan had counted so that she could keep track of them all. She had made it her business as they traveled to learn their faces, their habits. She knew which ones were clumsy, which were stupid, which were smart, and which were good with
weapons. As a game while riding endless day after endless day, she studied their strengths and weaknesses, planning and visualizing how she could kill each and every last one of them.

So far, she had not killed any. She had decided that her best chance in the long run was to go along, for now, with whatever she was told to do, to be compliant, to be obedient. The men had all been warned that she belonged to Jagang, and they were not to lay a finger on her—except to keep her from escaping.

Kahlan wanted to blend into the monotony of daily life, to have the men guarding her become lulled into thinking of her as innocuous, harmless, even cowed, so that she became just another one of their tedious chores. She’d had a number of opportunities to kill several of the men. She never took that opportunity, no matter how easy it would have been, choosing instead to let them feel comfortable, safe, even bored with her. Such inattention to the danger she represented would one day serve her better than a useless attack that for now could not really accomplish anything. It would not help her escape, and would only cause Jagang to use the collar—if not his hands—to bring her pain. While he needed no excuse, she saw no purpose to giving him a good one.

The only one not lulled into indifference and carelessness was Jagang himself. He did not misjudge her, or her will. He seemed to enjoy watching her tactics, even tactics as uninteresting as doing nothing. Like her, he carried patience in his arsenal. He was the only one not to let his guard down for an instant. Kahlan thought that he knew precisely what she was doing.

She ignored him as well; even if he knew what she was doing, she reasoned that it still diminished the level of caution he could maintain when nothing ever happened. Waiting for something that never came was wearing, even if you knew it was inevitable. Even if he knew that she would eventually try something, weeks and weeks of her meek compliance would buy her the element of surprise, even if it was only a momentary surprise. That instant of advantage might be all that made the difference when the time came.

Sometimes, though, she could not ignore him. When he was in a foul mood and she angered him—usually by her mere presence, not anything that she did—he would beat her bloody. Twice she had had to be healed by a Sister lest she bleed to death. When he was in one of his truly vile
moods, it usually ended up being a great deal worse than a simple beating. He was a very inventive man when it came to how to abuse a woman. When he was in an abusive mood, not simple pain but humiliation seemed to fascinate him. She had learned that he would not stop until he made her finally cry for one reason or another.

If she did cry, it was only when she could not help it, when she fell to depths of such pain, or humiliation, or despair, that she simply could not hold back her tears. Jagang enjoyed watching her cry, then. She did not do it just to give in, to make him stop what he was doing, but only because she was at a point where she could not help herself. And that was what he liked seeing.

At other times he would bring women to his tent while Kahlan had to stay on the carpet beside the bed, where she was always made to sleep, as if she were his dog. He usually brought some unfortunate, captive woman who was less than willing. He seemed to seek out captives who most feared his attention, and then gave them a violent introduction to being a slave to the emperor and his bed. When he fell asleep, Kahlan would hold the terrified woman, tell her that things would one day be better and comfort her as best she could.

He might have done it because he enjoyed such things, but that was only a side benefit. His real objective was to constantly remind Kahlan of what would happen to her once her memory returned.

Kahlan intended it never to return. Her memory would be her undoing.

Now that they had arrived at their destination, there would be more time for Ja’La games. Kahlan imagined that there would be tournaments. She hoped that they would divert Jagang’s attention from her, keep him occupied. She would have to accompany him—she was made to stay close—but that was better than being alone with him.

As they arrived at the emperor’s tents she was at first a little puzzled that the compound specifically, and the camp in general, was so far from their distant objective. He was so close. It seemed that it was only a matter of another hour’s ride or two and they would be there.

Kahlan didn’t ask why they had stopped short, but she soon found out when officers arrived for a nightly briefing.

“I want all the Sisters on watch tonight,” Jagang told them. “This close, there is no telling what sorts of wicked powers the enemy up there might send down on us.”

Kahlan noticed that Sisters Ulicia and Armina, not far away, were relieved to overhear such orders. It meant they wouldn’t be sent to entertain the men. In the long march of weeks, after being sent to the tents almost nightly as punishment for their transgressions against Jagang, they both looked to have aged years.

They had both been rather attractive women, but no more. They both had lost whatever beauty they once possessed. Their eyes, heavy with dark bags, were rather hollow and distant. Sister Armina’s sky blue eyes seemed to always look startled, as if she still couldn’t believe her fate. Creases had come to their faces, giving them both a heavy, drained, downcast look. They were always dirty, their hair perpetually tangled and their clothes torn. They often showed up in the morning with lurid bruises.

Kahlan didn’t like to see anyone suffer, but she could not work up any sympathy for these two. Were it not for them, she would not be in the clutches of a man who was only counting the moments until she recovered her memory and he could begin in earnest to make her suffer what he had promised to be insufferable agony, both physically and mentally. He had promised her, more than once, that when she had her memory back he was going to impregnate her and she was going to bear him a child—a male, he always claimed. He always added a cryptic message about how when she had her memory back, she would then truly understand just what a monster such a male child would be to her.

As far as Kahlan was concerned, whatever Jagang did to those two women was not enough.

Beyond what they had done to her, by hearing bits and pieces Kahlan had put together the nature of their plot and what those two had planned to do to everyone. That alone made it impossible to treat them too brutally. If it was Kahlan’s choice, though, she would simply have put them to death. Kahlan held no favor with torture; she simply believed that they did not deserve to continue to live. They had forfeited their right to live by the harm they had already done to others, and by what they planned to do to deprive everyone of their lives. By that measure, the entire army deserved to die.

Kahlan only wished that Jagang could suffer a similar fate.

“At least their army has fled,” one of the senior officers said to Jagang as the emperor’s horse was led away. Another man took Kahlan’s mare.

The officer was missing half his left ear. It had long since healed over in a lump, becoming a distraction that was hard to ignore. Men who didn’t ignore it sometimes lost an ear.

“They have no defenders left,” another officer said.

“I’m sure they have gifted up there,” Jagang said, “but they shouldn’t present an obstacle that can stop us.”

“The reports of the scouts and spies say that the road up the side is narrow—too narrow for any kind of mass assault. There is also a drawbridge that they have raised. Bringing building materials up that road, and then defending ourselves while we tried to span the chasm, would be hard to do.

“As for the great door leading to the interior way up into the plateau, it has been closed. No one entertains any faith in breaching that door. It has stood for thousands of years against any assault. Besides, the reports from the gifted say that their powers are weakened near the palace.”

Jagang smiled. “I have some ideas.”

The man missing part of his ear bowed his head. “Yes, Excellency.”

As Jagang and his officers talked, Kahlan noticed a small cluster of men in the distance riding at breakneck speed through the camp. They were coming up from behind, from the south. At every checkpoint, the men brought their horses to a skidding halt, spoke briefly to sentries, and were ushered through.

Jagang had noticed the riders, too. His conversation with his officers dwindled away and soon all of them were watching with the emperor as the riders made it to the inner defenses and dismounted in a cloud of dust. They waited at the final ring of steel for permission to enter the emperor’s compound.

When Jagang signaled, the men were brought forward. They came with haste, despite how tired they looked.

The man at their lead was a wiry fellow, older, with a hard look in his dark eyes. He saluted.

“Well,” Jagang said, “what is it that’s so urgent?”

“Excellency, cities in the Old World have come under attack.”

“Is that so.” Jagang heaved an impatient sigh. “It’s those insurrectionists, mostly from Altur’Rang. Haven’t they been put down yet?”

“No, Excellency, it is not insurrectionists—although they are causing
trouble as well, led by one called the blacksmith. Too many places have been attacked for it to be the doings of insurrectionists.”

Jagang eyed the man suspiciously. “What places have come under attack?”

The man pulled a scroll out from inside his dusty shirt. “Here is a list we have collected, so far.”

“So far?” Jagang asked, arching an eyebrow as he unfurled the scroll.

“Yes, Excellency. The information is that there is a wave of destruction sweeping across the land.”

Jagang scanned the long list of places on the scroll. Kahlan tried not to appear obvious as she glanced at the report out of the corner of her eye. She saw two columns of towns and cities listed. There had to be more than thirty-five or forty places written on the scroll.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘sweeping across the land,’” Jagang growled. “These places are all random. They’re not located in a line, or cluster, or one area of the Old World. They’re all over the place.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yes, Excellency. That is the report.”

“Some of this has to be overstated.” To make his point, Jagang jabbed the paper with a fat finger. The silver rings on each finger flashed in the fading light. “Taka-Mar, for instance. Taka-Mar has been attacked? It couldn’t have been very effective for a malcontent mob of fools to attack such a place. There are troop garrisons there. It’s a transfer station for supply trains. There are ample defenses in place. There are even Brothers of the Fellowship of Order in charge of the place. They wouldn’t have allowed a rabble to have their way in Taka-Mar. This report most likely is overstated by nervous fools who are afraid of their own shadow.”

The man bowed apologetically. “Excellency, Taka-Mar was one of the places I saw with my own eyes.”

“Well?” Jagang roared. “What did you see, then? Out with it!”

“The roads into the city from every direction are lined with stakes topped with charred skulls,” the man began.

“How many skulls?” Jagang waved dismissively. “Dozens? As many as a hundred?”

“Excellency, there were numbers beyond counting, and I stopped counting at several thousand without having made much headway in a full tally. The city itself is no more.”

“No more?” Jagang blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, no more? Such a thing is impossible.”

“It has been burned to the ground, Excellency. There was not a single building left standing. The fires were so intense that the lumber cannot be salvaged. The orchards all the way out into the hills were all cut down. The fields of ripe crops for miles and miles in every direction have all been burned. The ground has been salted. Nothing will ever grow there again. A once fertile place will never support anything again. It looks like the Keeper himself destroyed the place.”

“Well, where were the soldiers! What were they doing during all this!”

“The skulls on stakes were the soldiers garrisoned there. Every last one of them, I’m afraid.”

Jagang cast a look at Kahlan, as if she were somehow responsible for the catastrophe. His glare told her that he somehow associated the trouble with her. He crushed the paper in his fist as he returned his attention to the messenger.