They both spoke with a quiet economy of words that added an air of nobility to their bearing. While neither ever made a clear offer, they managed to somehow leave no doubt in Richard's mind that they were available to spend the night with him. Richard could never pin down anything specific in what they said to confirm the impression, but he had no doubt. Their oblique words left him room to feign missing their intent, and neither ever deigned to clarify what she had said.
He prayed that they would never make the offer any more explicit, because if they did, he knew he would have to bite his tongue in half to keep from saying yes. Both brought to mind what Pasha had told him about men having uncontrollable urges. He had never been around anyone who could make him stammer and fumble and in general make himself appear a fool as those two did. Sisters Merissa and Nicci were the embodiment of pure, unadulterated lust.
When Pasha found out that Sisters Merissa and Nicci were two of his teachers, she gave a small shrug, and said that they were very talented Sisters, and she was sure they would help him reach his Han. But her cheeks broke out in red blotches.
When Perry and Isaac found out about Sisters Merissa and Nicci, they both nearly succumbed to apoplexy. They said they would give up all the women in the city, forever, just to have one night with either. They said that if Richard was ever offered the opportunity, he had to take it, and tell them every detail. Richard assured them that women the likes of those two would never be interested in a woods guide like him.
He dared not say out loud that the offer had been made.
The fifth Sister, Armina, was older, a mature woman who was pleasant enough, but all business. When he had no more luck finding his Han with her than any of the others, she told him that it would come with time, and not to feel disappointed, but perhaps he should try to put more effort into it. Over time, she warmed to him, and smiled more. She was surprised and flattered by the special flowers. She blushed at her own blushes. Richard liked her straightforward personality.
The last Sister, Liliana, was Richard's favorite. Her easy smile was disarming, her plain, bony looks somehow alluring because of her open, friendly nature. She treated Richard like a confidant. Richard felt relaxed with her, sometimes spending more time than he could afford, talking with her late into the night, simply because he enjoyed her company. Though he had no friends among his captors, she came closer than any.
When Richard gave her the special flower, she hooked some of her brown hair behind an ear and leaned in. Her eyes were wide with mischief, wanting to know how he had gotten past the guards. She giggled when he told the story he invented of sneaking behind their backs. She stuck each rose proudly through a buttonhole, and wore it until it wilted or he gave her another.
When she touched him in a friendly way, it somehow seemed the natural thing to do. He found himself laying a hand on her arm in the same manner when he told her funny stories about when he had been a guide. They roared with laughter together, holding their ribs and getting tears.
Sister Liliana told him how she had grown up on a farm, and loved the country. Several times Richard invited her on a picnic out in the hills. She was comfortable and happy in the countryside. She didn't care if she got her dress dirty. Richard couldn't imagine either Sister Merissa or Nicci setting a foot to dirt, but Sister Liliana would flop right down on the ground with him.
She never made an offer to sleep with him. That in itself put him at ease. She never displayed any pretense; she seemed to genuinely enjoy her time with him. When he opened his eyes after a session with her and admitted he felt no Han, she would squeeze his hands and tell him that it was all right, and that she would try harder the next time to help him.
Richard found himself telling her things he told none of the others. When he confided how much he wanted the Rada'Han off, she put a hand to his arm as she gave him a wink, and told him that she would see to it that he had his wish, that when the time came, she would do it herself. She said she could understand his feelings, and for him to have faith.
She promised that if one day he was at the end of his tolerance, and he truly could stand it no longer, she would help him, she would remove the collar. But she wanted him to know that she had faith in him, and wanted him to put in his best effort to learn to control his Han before she even considered it.
She said that other young men tried to forget their collar by bedding every woman willing. She told him that she could understand urges, but she hoped that if he chose to sleep with a woman it would be because he liked her, and not because he was trying to forget the collar. She told him not to go to the prostitutes because they were dirty and he would catch something.
Richard told her that he was in love with someone, and didn't want to be unfaithful to her. She grinned and clapped him on the back and said she was proud of him. Richard didn't tell her that Kahlan had sent him away, but he wanted to. He knew that someday, if he could stand it no longer, he could tell Liliana and she would listen, and understand.
Because he was so comfortable around her, he felt that if anyone could help him find his Han, it would be her. He hoped it would be her. Richard had had only a brother, and didn't know what it would be like to have a sister, but he imagined that if he did have one, she would be like Liliana. The name Sister Liliana had a different meaning to him than was intended. She seemed his soulmate.
Still, he couldn't let himself open up completely to her. The Sisters were his captors, not his friends. They were the enemy, for now. But he knew that when the time came, Liliana would side with him.
Richard's lessons with the six Sisters took up at most two hours a day. A waste of two hours as far as he was concerned. He was no closer to touching his Han than he had been the first time Sister Verna had him try.
When Richard could manage to be alone, he explored the land around the palace, and found the limits of his invisible chain. When he reached the farthest distance the collar would allow him to go, it felt like trying to walk through a ten-foot-thick wall of mud layered over solid rock. It was frustrating to be able to see beyond, without obstruction, yet not be able to continue walking.
It happened, as near as he could tell, about the same distance from the palace in any direction. It was a good number of miles, but once he found the limit, his world began to feel very small indeed.
The day he found his boundary, the limits of his prison, he went to the Hagen Woods, and killed a mriswith.
His only true solace was Gratch. Richard spent most nights with the gar. He wrestled with his furry friend, ate with him, and slept with him. Richard hunted food for Gratch, but the gar was learning to hunt on his own. Richard was relieved to learn that; he didn't have the time to be with him every night. Hungry or not, Gratch was always distraught when Richard missed a night.
Richard was worried that Pasha would know where he went all the time, by his collar, but quite by accident he discovered something else his mriswith cape did - it masked from Pasha his whereabouts. When he wore the cape, she couldn't find him by his Rada'Han, by his Han.
She was puzzled by his blanking out from her sense of where he was, but didn't seem too concerned, offering that perhaps it had an explanation that she would come to figure out one day. She seemed to think it was a deficiency on her part. Richard never offered her the solution.
He realized that this was the reason none with the gift ever knew a mriswith was coming. Richard wondered why he had been able to see the beast in his mind. Maybe it was as Sister Verna said, that he was using his Han. But Sisters and wizards knew how to use their Han, and couldn't detect the mriswith.
Richard had an easier time when he could go where he pleased, and know Pasha would not know where he was; it saved thinking up explanations. He worried that if she ever discovered the reason, she would destroy his cape, so he hid a second for that contingency.
Gratch seemed to be bigger every time Richard saw him. By the end of Richard's first month at the palace, the gar was a head taller than R'ichard, and significantly stronger. When they wrestled, Gratch learned to be careful not to hurt him.
Richard also spent some of his time with Warren, getting him used to going outside. At first, he took Warren out into the courtyards at night. Warren told him that the size of the sky and landscape frightened him, so Richard reasoned that night would show him less of the landscape, at least to start.
Warren said that the Sisters had had him down in the vaults for so long that he thought he just became used to being closed in, but he was tired of it. Richard felt sorry for him, and wanted to help him. He really liked Warren. He was about as smart as anyone Richard had ever met. There didn't seem to be anything that Warren didn't know at least a little about.
Warren was nervous about being away from the safety of the palace, but was reassured by Richard's presence, and the way Richard never ridiculed his fears. Richard was always considerate, never taking Warren farther than he felt comfortable. Richard told him that it was just like after you were injured and had been laid up for a while: it took time to stretch the old muscles.
After a few weeks of their nighttime forays, Richard started taking Warren out in the daylight, first just up onto the walls to look at the vastness of the sky and ocean. Warren was always close to a stairway that led back into the palace, so he was reassured by having an escape route close by if he felt he had to go back inside. A few times he did, and Richard always went with him, and talked about other things to take his mind away from the uncomfortable feeling. Richard had Warren bring a book outside with him, so he could be distracted by reading. Letting Warren forget about the size of the sky helped.
On a bright, sunny day, after Warren had become comfortable out-of-doors, Richard decided to try taking him out into the hills. Warren was a bit giddy at first, but as they sat on a rock high in the hills, overlooking the countryside and the city, Warren said that he felt as if he had mastered his fear. He said that he still felt uncomfortable, but he felt the fear was under control.
He grinned at the vast landscape spread out below, enjoying the sight that for so long his fears denied him. Richard told him that he was happy that he was the one to have been able to guide him out of his mole hole. Warren laughed.
Warren said he needed adventure in his life, and this felt like the beginning.
As far as Warren's search for information was going, he had been able to find out precious little. He had so far found only a few references in old books that talked about the Valley of the Lost, and the Baka Ban Mana, but what he found was intriguing. The information made reference to the power the wizards had given the Baka Ban Mana in return for taking their land, so that they could someday have their land restored. It said that when the completing link was joined with this power invested in their spirit woman, the towers would fall.
Richard thought about Du Chaillu saying that he was the Caharin, and that they were now husband and wife. That was a linking of sorts. He wondered if over the intervening time the meaning of this joining could have been taken to mean marriage, instead of its original intent.
As they sat watching the vast landscape, Warren said, 'The Prelate has been reading prophecies and histories that talk about "the pebble in the pond."'
Richard's ears perked up. He remembered Kahlan singing him a song about screelings that mentioned 'the pebble in the pond.' Warren hadn't studied those prophecies before, and hadn't been able to piece together their importance as of yet.
'Do you know what the Wizard's Second Rule is?' Richard asked.
'Second Rule? Wizards have rules? What's the first?'
Richard looked over. 'Do you remember that night Jedidiah broke his leg, and I told you that you had carpet ash on you? And you tried to brush it off? I was using the Wizard's First Rule.' Warren frowned. 'You think on it, Warren, and let me know what you figure out. In the meantime, it's important that you speed up the search for the information I asked you about.'
'Well, it will be a little easier, now that Sister Becky is sick every morning, and won't be looking over my shoulder. She's pregnant,' he said in answer to Richard's questioning frown.
'Do many of the Sisters have children?'
'Sure,' Warren said. 'What with all the young wizards around who can no longer go to the city. The Sisters help out with their needs, so they can study.'
Richard gave Warren a suspicious look. 'Is Sister Becky's child yours?'
Warren blushed furiously. 'No.' He kept his eyes to the city. 'I'm waiting for the one I love.'
'Pasha,' Richard said.
Warren nodded. Richard looked down at the Palace of the Prophets, and the city that surrounded it. Needs.
'Warren, do all the children of men with the gift inherit it?'
'Oh no. It's said that many thousands of years ago, before the Old and New World were separated, many had the gift. But over time those in power methodically killed off young ones with the gift, so they would have no one to threaten their rule. They also withheld the required teaching. It used to be that fathers taught their sons, but as fewer were born with the gift, and it skipped more and more generations, those who knew the way jealously guarded their knowledge. That's the reason the Palace of the Prophets was created - to help those with the gift, who had no teacher.
'As time went on, the gift was bred out of the race of man, the way you breed a trait out of an animal. This gave the wizards who held power less and less opposition all the time.
'Now that the trait is so bred out, one born with the gift is exceedingly rare. Maybe only one child in a thousand fathered by a wizard is born with the gift. We're a dying breed.'
Richard looked to the city again, then to the palace.
His eyes locked on the palace, Richard slowly rose to his feet. 'They're not seeing to our "needs,"' he whispered, 'they're using us as breeding stock.'
Warren stood. His brow wrinkled. 'What?'
'They're using the palace, the young men at the palace, to breed wizards.'
Warren's brow furrowed deeper. 'Why?'
Richard's jaw muscles flexed. 'I don't know, but I intend to find out.'
'Good,' Warren said with a grin. 'I need an adventure.'
Richard gave him a cold look. 'Do you know what adventure is, Warren?'
Warren nodded, the smile still on his face. An exciting experience.'
Adventure is being scared to death, and not knowing if you will live or die, or if the ones you love will live or die. Adventure is being in trouble you don't know how to get out of.'
Warren fumbled with the braiding on his sleeve. 'I never thought about it like that.'
'Well, you think on it,' Richard said, 'because I'm about to start an adventure.'
'What are you going to do?'
The less you know, the less adventure you'll have to worry about. You just find out the things I need to know. If the veil is torn, we're all going to have a never-ending adventure.'
'Well,' Warren said with a twinkle in his eye, 'I found out at least one thing of help, then.'
The Stone of Tears?'
Warren nodded with a grin. 'I found out there is no way you could have seen it. It's locked behind the veil. In a way, it's part of the veil.'
'Are you sure? Are you sure I couldn't have seen it?'
'Positive. The Stone of Tears is the seal that keeps the Nameless One locked in his prison of the dead, in the underworld. He can rule the souls of the dead there with him, but he cannot come to this world. The Stone of Tears seals him there.'
'Good,' Richard said with a relieved sigh. That's great, Warren. Good work.' He gently gripped Warren's robe and pulled him closer. 'You're sure. There's no way the Stone of Tears could be in this world.'
Warren confidently shook his head. 'None. It's impossible. The only way for the Stone of Tears to be in this world would be for it to come through the gateway.'
Richard felt his flesh beginning to tingle. 'Gateway? What's the gateway?'
'Well, the gateway is what the name implies. A passage. In this case, a passage between the world of the living and the world of the dead. It's magic of both worlds, a passage constructed of magic. The gateway can only be opened with both Additive and Subtractive Magic. The Nameless One has only Subtractive, since he is in the underworld, so he can't open the gateway. The same way someone in this world could not open it, because we have only Additive Magic.'
Bumps were rising on Richard's arms. 'But someone in this world, someone with both forms of magic, could open the gateway?'
'Well, sure,' Warren stammered. 'If they had the gateway. But it has been lost for over three thousand years. It's gone.' He gave Richard a self-assured smile. 'We're safe.'
Richard wasn't smiling. He grabbed Warren's robes in both hands and yanked his face close. 'Warren, tell me the gateway isn't called the Magic of Orden. Tell me the gateway isn't the three boxes of Orden.'
Warren's eyes slowly expanded to the size of gold pieces. 'Where did you hear that name for it?' he whispered in a disquieted tone. 'I'm the only one in the palace besides the Prelate and two other Sisters who are permitted to read the books that call the gateway by its ancient name.'
Richard gritted his teeth. 'What happens if one of the boxes is opened?'
They can't be opened,' Warren insisted. They can't. I told you, it takes both kinds of magic, Additive and Subtractive, to open a box.'
Richard shook him. 'What happens!'
His eyes still wide, Warren swallowed. Then the gateway between the worlds is opened. The veil is breached. The seal is off the Nameless One.'
And the Stone of Tears would be in this world?' Warren nodded as Richard tightened his grip on the robes. 'And if the box were to be closed, that would close the gateway? Seal the breach?'
'No. Well, yes, but it can only be closed by one with the gift. It takes the touch of magic to close the gateway. But if one with the gift closes the box, the gateway, then it ruptures the balance, because he has only Additive Magic, and the Nameless One escapes the underworld. More correctly, this world would be swallowed into the world of the dead.'
Then how can the box be closed to keep the worlds separated!'
The same way the gateway is opened. With both Additive and Subtractive Magic.'
And what about the Stone of Tears?'
'I don't know. I would have to study.'
Then you better study fast.'
'Please,' Warren whined, 'you don't mean that you know where the boxes are. You haven't found them, have you?'
'Found them? The last time I saw the boxes, one was opened, about to suck my bastard father into the underworld.'
Warren fainted.
CHAPTER 57
Under the impotent rays of the late-day sun, an old woman was spreading wood ash on the ice covering the vast expanse of stairs. Kahlan walked past, relieved that the old woman didn't look up to see that the person in the heavy clothes, white fur mantle, and carrying a pack and bow was the Mother Confessor returned to Aydindril.
She was in no mood for starting a celebration tonight. She was exhausted. Already, before coming home to the palace, she had climbed up to the Wizard's Keep on the mountainside, but the Keep was stone cold and dark as death. The shields were in place, though a Confessor could enter, but no one was inside.
Zedd was not there.
The Keep sat now as the last time she had seen it so many months ago, when she had left to find the missing great wizard. She had found him, and helped stop the threat from Darken Rahl, but now she needed the great wizard again.
Since leaving the Galean army nearly a month before, she had been struggling to reach Aydindril, and Zedd. Storms had raged for days at a time. Passes had been rendered impassable by the weather and snow, forcing them to backtrack and find alternate routes. It had been a frustrating and tiring journey, but the despair at reaching her goal and not finding Zedd was withering.
Kahlan had made her way through the side streets, avoiding Kings Row. The palaces on Kings Row housed dignitaries, staffs, and guards of the lands that were represented in Aydindril. The kings and queens and rulers of those lands stayed in their palaces when they came to address the council. The palaces were a matter of pride for each land, and each was magnificent, although none could begin to compare to the Confessors' Palace.
Kahlan had avoided Kings Row because she would be recognized there, and she didn't want to be recognized right now; she wanted only to find Zedd and, failing that, speak to the council, so she headed toward the service area to the side, near the kitchens.
Chandalen was out in the forest. He didn't want to come into Aydindril; the size of the city and the multitudes of people made him uneasy, though he denied it, and claimed only to be more comfortable sleeping outside. Kahlan couldn't blame him; after being alone in the mountains for so long, she, too, was uneasy going into the city, even though she had grown up in this place and knew its streets and majestic buildings as well as Chandalen knew the plains around the Mud People village. The people everywhere made her feel closed in as never before.
Chandalen wanted to go home to his people, now that she was delivered safely to Aydindril. She could understand his desire to be off, but asked him to rest the night, and say good-bye to her in the morning.
She had told Orsk to spend the night with Chandalen. His presence was wearing; his one eye following her everywhere, his jumping to help her with everything, his constantly standing ready to do her bidding at the slightest indication. It was like having a dog continually at heel. She needed a night away from that. Chandalen seemed to understand. She didn't know what she was going to do about Orsk.
A stifling blast of warm air hit her as she went in through the kitchen entrance. At the sound of the door, a thin woman in a sparkling white apron spun to her.
'What are you doing in here! Get out, you beggar!'
As the woman lifted her wooden spoon in a threatening. manner, Kahlan pushed back the hood of her mantle. The woman gasped. Kahlan smiled.
'Mistress Sanderholt. I'm so pleased to see you again.'
'Mother Confessor!' The woman fell to her knees, clasping her hands together. 'Oh, Mother Confessor, forgive me! I didn't recognize you. Oh, good spirits be praised, is it really you?'
Kahlan pulled the wiry woman to her feet. 'I've missed you so, Mistress Sanderholt.' Kahlan held out her arms. 'Give me a hug?'
Mistress Sanderholt fell into Kahlan's arms. 'Oh, child, It's so good to see you!' She pushed away, tears running down her face. 'We didn't know what had become of you. We were so worried. I thought I might never see you again.'
'It has been a long and difficult time. I can't tell you how good it is to see your face again.'
Mistress Sanderholt started pulling Kahlan toward a side table. 'Come. You need a bowl of soup. I have some on now, if these featherbrains who do what scarcely passes for cooking haven't ruined it with too much pepper.'
The welter of cooks and help caught the words and kept their heads down, applying their attention to their tasks. The sounds of whisks and spoons on bowls stepped up. Men picked up sacks and hurried away. Brushes worked at pots with greater zeal. Butter hissed in hot pans, and bread in ovens and meat on spits suddenly needed checking.
'I don't have time, right now, Mistress Sanderholt.'
'But I have things I must tell you. Important things.'
'I know. I have things to tell you, too. But right now I must see the council. It's urgent. I've been traveling a long time, and I'm exhausted, but I must see the council before I rest. We will talk tomorrow.'
Mistress Sanderholt couldn't resist another hug. 'Of course, child. Rest well. We will talk tomorrow.'
Kahlan took the shortest route, through the immense hall used for important ceremonies and celebrations. Fires in the large, magnificent fireplaces set around the room between fluted columns sent shadows of herself spiraling around her as she crossed the green slate floor. The room was empty, now, allowing her footsteps to echo overhead from the intricate lierne vaulting with the wavelike, sweeping ribs. Her father used to set thousands of walnuts and acorns, representing troops, all over the floor of this room, to teach her battle tactics.
She turned down the hall at the far end, toward the corridor to the council chambers. In the Confessors' private gallery, groups of four glossy black marble columns to each side supported a progression of polychrome vaults. At the end, before the council chambers, was a round, two-story-high pantheon dedicated to the memory of heroines: the founding Mother Confessors. Their portraits, in frescoes between the seven massive pillars ranging to the skylight, were twice life size.
Kahlan always felt like a pretender to the post in the presence of the seven stern faces that overlooked the room. She felt they were saying, 'And who are you, Kahlan Amnell, to think you could be the Mother Confessor?' Knowing the histories of those heroines only made her feel all the more inadequate.
Grabbing both brass levers, she threw the tall, mahogany doors open and marched into the council chambers.
A huge dome capped the enormous room. At the far end, the main vault was decorated with an ornate fresco celebrating the glory of Magda Searus, the first Mother Confessor. Her fingers were touching the back of the hand of her wizard, Merritt, who had laid down his life to protect her. Together, now, for all time in the colorful fresco, the two oversaw the Mother Confessors who followed and sat in the First Chair, and their wizards.
Between the colossal gold capitals of the columns thrusting up around the room were sinuous, polished mahogany railings at the edge of balconies that overlooked the elegant chamber. The arched openings, set at intervals around the room and leading up to the balconies, were decorated with sculpted stuccos of heroic scenes. Beyond were windows looking out over the courtyards. Round windows around the lower edge of the dome also let light into the glistening chamber. At the far end was the semicircular dais where the councilors sat, behind an elaborate, curved desk. The opulent First Chair in the center was the tallest.
A clump of men were gathered around the First Chair. By the numbers, Kahlan judged about half the council to be present. As she strode across long swaths of sunlight on the patterned marble floor, the heads began to follow her progress.
Someone was sitting in the First Chair. Although not enforced in recent times, it was a capital offense for a councilor to take the First Chair, as it was considered tantamount to a declaration of revolution. The conversation hushed as she approached.
Дата добавления: 2015-11-04; просмотров: 27 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |