the project."  Jagang
flashed her a sly smile. "They will live there, too, of course."
     Understanding washed over her.
     "He's going to  spell the new palace," she whispered in astonishment to
herself.
     Jagang  only  smiled  as  he  watched her,  clearly  pleased  with  her
reaction.
     Brother Narev  had been at the Palace of the Prophets almost as long as
she, nearly one hundred and seventy years, but in all that time he seemed to
have aged only ten or fifteen years-the same as she. No one but  Nicci  ever
knew he was anything but a stablehand-they didn't know he was gifted.
     In all that time, with her, along with everyone else, paying him little
heed, he must have been studying the spell around the palace. From what  she
knew, most  of  Brother Narev's disciples  had been  young  wizards from the
Palace of the Prophets; they had access to the vaults. They, too, could have
added information that helped him. But could he really do such a thing?
     "Tell me about  the palace,"  she  said, preferring  his  voice to  the
silent scrutiny of nightmare eyes.

     He kissed her  first, the way a man kisses a woman, not the way a brute
kisses a  victim. She endured it with no more favor than any  of the rest of
it.  He seemed  not  to notice,  this time, and by the  smile  of his  face,
appeared to have enjoyed it.
     "It will be a walk of nearly fifteen miles to walk  all the  halls." He
swept a  hand  out and began  to give shape to  the grand  palace in the air
before them. As he went on, he stared off  at his imaginary outline, hanging
there in space.
     "The world has never seen anything to match  it. While  I carry on with
our work of bringing the hope of the Order to the New World, of bringing the
true  word of the  Creator to  the wicked  and the  greedy, of banishing the
selfish  ideals of  the ancient  religion of magic, back in my  homeland the
work of building the palace will go on.
     "Quarries  will be busy for years extracting all the rock  that will go
into the construction. The variety  of stone  will leave no  doubt about the
glory  of the place. The marble will  be the finest.  The woods will be only
the best. Every material going into the palace will be exceptional. The best
craftsmen will shape it all into a grand structure."
     "Yes, but, despite the fact that others may  live there," she mocked in
cool  disdain, "it will be but a pompous monument to only one man: the great
and powerful Emperor Jagang."
     "No, it will be devoted to the glory of the Creator."
     "Oh? And will the Creator be taking up residence there, too, then'?"
     Jagang scowled at her blasphemy. "Brother Narev wishes the palace to be
instructional  to the people. He is contributing  his spiritual  guidance to
the undertaking,  and  will  personally oversee  the  construction  while  I
cleanse the way for the Order."
     That was what she wanted to know.
     He stared  off at the invisible shape still hanging in  the  air before
them. His voice took on a reverent tone.
     "Brother  Narev shares my vision in  this.  He  has  always been like a
father to me. He put the fire in my belly. His spiritual  direction has been
a  lifelong  inspiration.  He allows me to stand at the  fore, and take  the
glory of our victories, but I would be nothing without his  moral teachings.
What I win is only as the fist of  the Order,  and a fist is but one part of
the whole, as we are all but insignificant fragments of society as a  whole.
You are right: many others could stand in my place for  the Order. But it is
my part  to be the one  to lead  us. I would never do anything to betray the
trust  Brother  Narev  has  placed in me-that  would be  like  betraying the
Creator Himself. He guides the way for all of us.
     "I  only thought to  build  a fitting  palace for us  all, a place from
which to govern for the benefit of the people. It was Brother Narev who took
up the dream and gave it  moral meaning by  envisioning  everyone, when they
see the  vast structure, as seeing man's place in  the new order-seeing that
man can  never live  up to the glory of the Creator, and that, individually,
he is but a meaningless member of the greater brotherhood  of  man  and thus
can have no greater part to play than to uplift all his  brothers in need so
all will  thrive  together.  Yet, it  will also be a place  that will humble
every  man before  it, by  showing  him his  utter insignificance before the
glory  of his  Creator, by showing man's depravity, his tortured, contorted,
inferior nature, for all men in this world are such as this."
     Nicci could  almost  see  such a place when  he spoke  of it.  It would
indeed be a  humbling inspiration to the people. He, came near  to inspiring
her with such talk, as Brother Narev had at one time inspired her.

     "This is why I have  stayed," she whispered, "because the cause  of the
Order is righteous."
     The piece that had been missing was now found.
     In  the quiet, Jagang kissed her again.  She  allowed him to finish it,
and then pushed away from his embrace. With a distant  smile, he  watched as
she rose and began dressing.
     "You're going  to love it there, Nicci. It  will be a  place  befitting
you."
     "Oh? As the Slave Queen?"
     "As a queen, if you wish it.  I plan to give you the kind of  authority
you've never before had. We'll be happy there, you and I, truly happy. For a
long, long time, we'll be happy there."
     She drew a stocking  up her leg. "When Sister Ulicia and the four  with
her found away to leave you,  I  chose to ignore  their discovery  and stay,
because I know the Order is the only moral course for mankind. But now I-"
     "You stayed because you would be nothing without the Order."
     She looked away from his eyes. She tugged her dress down over her head,
poked her arms through  the sleeves, and worked the skirt over  her hips. "I
am  nothing without the Order, and  I am nothing with it. No one is. We  are
all inadequate, miserable creatures; that is the nature of man; that is what
the Creator teaches. But the Order shows man  his duty to make a better life
for the good of all."
     "And I am the emperor of the Imperial Order!" His  red face cooled more
slowly than it had heated. He gestured vaguely in the  hollow silence and he
went on in a more mellow tone. `The world will be one under the Order. We'll
be happy at the  palace when  it's finished, Nicci.  You  and  I,  under the
spiritual guidance of our priests. You'll see. In time, when-'
     "I'm leaving." She drew on a boot.
     "I will not permit it."
     Nicci paused at pulling on her other  boot and glanced up into his dark
eyes. She flicked a finger  toward a stone vase on a  table  against the far
wall. Light flashed. The vase exploded in a cloud of  dust and  chips with a
sound  that  rocked the room. The  draperies  shuddered.  The panes  in  the
windows chattered.
     When the dust had settled, she said, "You will not permit it?" She bent
forward and began doing up the laces on her boots.
     Jagang strolled  over to  the table and dragged his fingers through the
dust that was all that remained  of the stone vase. He turned back to her in
all his naked, hairy, imperial glory.
     "Are you threatening me? Do you actually think you could use your power
against me?"
     "I do not think it"-she yanked the laces tight-"I know it. The truth is
I choose not to."
     He struck a defiant pose. "And why is that?"
     Nicci stood and faced him. "Because, as you said, the  Order needs you,
or rather, a brute like  you. You serve  the ends of the Order-you are their
fist. You bring that cleansing fire. You perform that function very well. It
could even be said that you perform that service with extraordinary talent.
     "You are Jagang the Just. You  see the wisdom in the title I have given
you, and will use it  to further the  cause of  the. Order. That  is  why  I
choose not to  use any power against you.  It would be like using  my  power
against the Order, against my own duty to the future of mankind."

     "Then why do you want to leave?"
     "Because I must." She  gave him a look of icy determination, and deadly
threat. "Before I go, 1 will be spending some time with Sister Lidmila.  You
are to  immediately and completely withdraw from her  mind and remain out of
it the entire time I am with  her. We will use your tents, since you are not
using them. You will see  to  it that everyone leaves us entirely  alone for
however long it takes us. Anyone who enters,  without my express permission,
will die. That includes you. You have my  oath, as a  Sister of the Dark, on
that. When I'm  finished,  and after I leave, you may  do what you will with
Sister  Lidmilakill her if that is your wish, although I don't  see  why you
would want to bother, since she is going to be doing you a great service."
     "I see." His huge chest rose. He let the  deep breath out  slowly. "And
how long will you be gone, this time, Nicci?"
     "This is not like the other times. This is different."
     "How long?"
     "Perhaps only a short time. Perhaps a very long time. I don't yet know.
Leave me alone to  do as  I  must, and,  if I can, I  will one day return to
you."
     He gazed into her eyes, but  he could not look into  her  mind. Another
man protected her mind, and kept her thoughts her own.
     In all the time  she  had  spent with  Richard, Nicci had never learned
that which  she hungered most to know,  but  in one way, she had learned too
much. Most  of the time she was able to entomb that unwanted knowledge under
the numb weight  of indifference. Occasionally, though, it would, like  now,
unexpectedly  rise up  out of its tomb to seize her.  When  it did,  she was
helpless in its grip, and could do nothing but wait for the oblivion of numb
detachment to bury it yet again.
     Staring  into the long dark night  of Jagang's inhuman  eyes, eyes that
revealed nothing but the bleakness of his soul, Nicci  touched her finger to
the gold ring Jagang had  ordered pierced through her lower lip to  mark her
as  his personal  slave.  She released a  thread-thin channel of Subtractive
Magic, and the ring ceased to exist.
     "And where are you going, Nicci?"
     "I am going to destroy Richard Rahl for you."


        Chapter 15

     Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander had been able to talk and smile his way past the
other soldiers,  but  these  were not  moved by his explanation  that he was
Richard's grandfather. He  supposed he should have entered  the camp  in the
daylight-it  would have avoided a lot of the suspicion-but he  was tired and
hadn't thought it would be that much trouble.
     The soldiers  were  properly suspicious, which greatly pleased him, but
he was weary and had more  important things to do than  answer questions: he
wanted to ask them, instead.
     "Why do you want to see him?" the bigger guard repeated.
     "I told you, I'm Richard's grandfather."
     "This is the Richard Cypher, you're talking about, who you now say-"
     "Yes, yes, that was his name when he grew  up  and that's what I'm used
to  calling him,  but I meant Richard Rahl,  who he is now. You  know,  Lord
Rahl,  your  leader? I  would  think being  the  grandfather  of someone  as
important as your Lord Rahl would accord me  some respect. Maybe even  a hot
meal."
     "I  could say I'm Lord Rahl's brother,"  the man said, keeping  a tight
grip on the bit in the mouth of Zedd's horse, "but that doesn't make it so."
     Zedd sighed. "How very true."
     As vexing as it was, Zedd, at some dim inward level, was pleased to see
that the men weren't stupid, nor easily duped.
     "But  I'm  also a  wizard," Zedd  added,  drawing  low his eyebrows for
dramatic effect.  "If I  wasn't friendly, I could simply do you up crisp and
be on my way past the both of you."
     "And if I wasn't friendly," the  man said, "I could give the signal-now
that  we've  let  you  venture  in  this  far  so  that   you're  completely
surrounded-and the dozen archers hiding all around you in the dark would let
fly the arrows that are  at  this moment trained on  you,  as they have been
ever since you approached our encampment."
     "Ah,"  Zedd said, holding  up a finger in  triumph,  "all very well and
good, but-"
     "And  even  if I were to die  in a final  flame of service  to the Lord
Rahl, those arrows will let fly without me needing to give any signal."
     Zedd  harrumphed, lowering his finger, but inwardly  he smiled. Here he
was, First Wizard, and if he weren't entering a friendly camp, he would have
been bested in this game of banter by a simple soldier.
     Or maybe not.
     "In the first place, Sergeant, I am, as I said, a wizard, and so I knew
of the  archers  and have already dealt with  the threat by  spelling  their
arrows so  they will fly  no truer  and with  no more deadly effect than wet
dishrags. I have nothing to fear

     from  them. In  the second place, even if I'm lying-which is  precisely
what you are  considering at this very moment-you  have  made a  mistake  by
telling me of the threat, which enables me, as  a wizard of great repute, to
now use my magic to nullify it."
     A  slow  smile came  to  the  man's face. "Why,  that's remarkable." He
scratched his head. He looked to his partner and  then back to Zedd. "You're
right, that was exactly  what I was thinking: that  you could be lying about
knowing the archers were back there in the dark."
     "You see there, young man? You're not so smart after all."
     "You're  right, sir, I'm not. Here  I was, so busy  talking to you  and
being so intimidated by your wizardly powers and all, that I plumb forgot to
tell you about what else was out there in the dark,  watching you . . ."-the
soldier's brow lowered-"and it would be a mite more trouble than any  simple
arrows, I dare say.
     Zedd scowled down at the man. "Now see here-"
     "Why don't you do as I ask and come down here in the light, where I can
see you better, and answer some of our questions'?"
     With  a  sigh  of  resignation,  Zedd  dismounted.  He  gave  Spider  a
reassuring  pat on her neck. Spider,  a  chestnut-colored mare, had a  leggy
black splotch  on her creamy rump, from  which  she had  acquired her  name.
Young,  strong, and possessing  an  agreeably spirited  nature,  she made  a
pleasant traveling companion. The two of them
     had been through a great deal together. `
     Zedd stepped into the intimate circle  of light from the watch fire. He
turned his a hand up and  brought a white-hot flame to  life just  above the
flesh of his palm. The
     two soldiers' eyes widened. Zedd scowled.
     "But, I have my own fire, if you need to see better. Does this help you
see things better, Sergeant?"
     "Uh . . . why, yes it does, sir," the man stammered.
     "Yes, it does indeed," a woman said as she stepped into the light. "Why
didn't you simply use your Han and give a display of your craft in the first
place?" She motioned into the darkness, as  if signaling for others to stand
down.  She  turned back  with  a  smile  that  was  no more than  courteous.
"Welcome, wizard."
     Zedd  bowed  from the  waist. "Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander, First Wizard, at
your j service . . . ?"
     "Sister Philippa, Wizard Zorander. I am aid to the Prelate."
     She  gestured and the sergeant  took the reins from Zedd's hand to lead
the horse away. Zedd clapped the  man on the back to let him know there were
no hard  feelings, and then gave  a similar pat to Spider to let her know it
was all right to go with the men.
     "Treat her especially well, Sergeant. Spider is a friend."
     The  sergeant saluted by tapping his fist  to  his  heart.  "She'll  be
treated as a friend, sir."
     After the soldiers had  led Spider away, Zedd said, "The Prelate? Which
one?"
     The  narrow-jawed Sister clasped her hands together. "Prelate Verna, of
course."
     "Oh, yes, of course. Prelate Verna."
     The Sisters of the Light didn't know Ann was still alive. At least, she
had been  ' alive  when Zedd  last saw  her,  several months  past. Ann  had
written in her  journey book, telling  Verna  that she  was alive,  but also
asking her to keep that information x private  for the time being. Zedd  had
been hoping that perhaps Ann had turned up at 1

     the D'Haran army camp, with her Sisters of the Light. He  was sorry  to
learn she hadn't. It boded ill for her.
     Zedd  held  no  favor  with  the  Sisters of the  Light-a  lifetime  of
disapproval was not easily forgottenbut  he had  come to  respect  Ann  as a
woman of self-discipline and resolve, even if he took a dim  view of some of
her  convictions and past objectives. He knew that, at the least, he and Ann
shared many important values. He didn't know about the rest  of the Sisters,
though.
     Sister  Philippa appeared  middle-aged, but  with  Sisters  that  meant
little. She might have lived at the  Palace of the Prophets for only a year,
or  for  centuries.  With  dark   eyes  and  high   cheekbones  she  was  an
exotic-looking woman. As in the Midlands, there were places in the Old World
where the people had unique physical characteristics. Sister Philippa  moved
the way high-minded women tended to move, like a swan taken to human form.
     "How may I be of service, Wizard Zorander?"
     "Zedd will do. Is this Prelate of yours awake?"
     "She is. This way, Zedd, if you please."
     He fell in behind the woman as she glided off toward the dark shapes of
tents. "Got anything to eat around here?"
     She looked back over her shoulder. "This late?"
     "Well, I've been traveling hard .... It's not really all that  late, is
it?"
     In the dark, she assessed him briefly.  "I  don't believe it's ever too
late,  according  to  the  teachings  of   the  Creator.  And  you  do  look
emaciated-from your travels, I'm sure." Her smile warmed a little. "Food  is
always at the  ready; we have  soldiers who are active through the night and
need to be  fed. I believe I could find something for you." She returned her
gaze to the indiscernible path.
     "That would be a kindness," Zedd said in  a  jovial voice as he scowled
at  her  back. "And I'm not  emaciated; I'm wiry.  Most  women find lean men
appealing."
     "Do they`? I never knew that."
     Sisters of  the Light  were  a lofty  lot,  Zedd thought  ruefully. For
thousands of years it had been a death sentence for them to even set foot in
the New World. Zedd had always been a little more  lenient-but  not by much.
In the past, the Sisters only came into the New World to steal boys with the
gift-they  claimed to  be  saving  them. It was  a  wizard's  task to  train
wizards. If they came for the reason  of taking  a boy back beyond the great
barrier to their palace, Zedd viewed it as the gravest of crimes.
     They had come for that  very reason  only the winter before,  and taken
Richard. Sister  Verna was the one who had captured him and taken him to the
Old World.  Under the  spell  of their  palace, he could have ended up being
there for centuries. Leave it to Richard to make friends with the Sisters of
the Light, of all people.
     Zedd guessed he  and the Sisters were even-that they had good reason to
view  him in a harsh way. He had, after all, set the spell that Richard  had
used to destroy their palace. But  Ann  had helped, knowing it was  the only
way to prevent Jagang from capturing the palace and acquiring the prophecies
therein for his own purposes.
     All around, guards, big guards, prowled the  encampment. In  chain mail
and leather armor, they were an imposing  sight. They watched  everything as
they  slipped  through   the  darkness.   The  camp  was  relatively  quiet,
considering its size. Noise could give away a variety  of information  to an
enemy. It was not easy to see to it that this many men kept quiet.

     "I'm relieved  that our first incursion by  someone possessing the gift
turned out to be a friend," the Sister said.
     "And I'm glad to  see  that  the gifted are helping to keep watch.  But
there  are types  of  enemy  forays that  the  regular  sentries  could  not
identify." Zedd  wondered if they were  really  prepared  for those kinds of
troubles.
     "If magic is involved, we will be there to detect it."
     "I suppose you were watching me the whole time."
     "I was," Sister Philippa said. "From the time  you crossed  the line of
hills, back there."
     Zedd scratched his jaw. "Really? That far away."
     With a satisfied smirk she said, "That far."
     He peered over his shoulder into the night. "Both of you. Very good."
     She  halted and  turned  to  him. "Both? You knew there were two of us,
watching?"
     Zedd smiled  innocently.  "But, of course.  You were just watching. She
was  farther  away, following, conjuring  some little  nasty  should I prove
hostile."
     Sister  Philippa blinked in astonishment. "Remarkable.  You could sense
her touching her Han? From that distance?"
     Zedd nodded with satisfaction. "They didn't make me  First Wizard  just
because I was wiry."
     Sister Philippa's smile finally looked sincere. "I am relieved you came
as a friend, rather than one intent on harm."
     There was more truth in that than  the woman knew; Zedd  had experience
in the  unpleasant, dirty business of magic in warfare.  When he'd come near
their camp, he saw  the holes in their defense and the weaknesses in the way
they used the gift  for their purpose. They were not thinking as their enemy
would think.  Had lie been intent on  harm,  the  entire camp would be in an
uproar by now, despite what they had done to prepare for one such as he.
     Sister  Philippa  turned  back to  the night  to  lead him  on.  It was
somewhat unsettling  for Zedd to walk through a D'Haran  camp-even though he
knew they were ,  now fighting on the same side. He had spent a good deal of
his  life dealing with D'Harans as the deadly enemy. Richard had changed all
that. Zedd sighed. He some- t times thought that Richard  might make friends
with thunder and lightning and invite them both to dinner.
     Dark  shapes  of tents and  wagons loomed all around. Pole weapons were
stacked upright in neat ranks,  ready, should they be  suddenly needed. Some
soldiers  snored, and some sat around  in the dark, talking in low voices or
laughing  quietly, while  x others patrolled the  inky shadows. Those passed
close  enough for Zedd to smell  their  breath, but in the darkness he could
not make out their faces.
     Well-hidden sentries were stationed  at  every possible approach route.
There were very few fires in the camp, and those were mostly watch fires set
away from  the main force,  leaving the mass  of  the  camp a dark whole  of
night. Some  armies carried.  on a  considerable  amount of  work at  night,
performing repairs or making things . they needed, and letting the men do as
they would. These men remained quiet ; throughout the night so watching eyes
and listening  ears could gain little if  any help , for  an invading force.
These were well trained, disciplined, professional soldiers. From a distance
it was difficult to tell the size of the camp. It was huge.
     Sister Philippa  brought Zedd  to a sizable tent,  one  tall  enough to
stand in. Light  from lamps hanging inside gave  the canvas walls and roof a
soft amber glow. She ducked beneath a tent line and poked  her head in under
the flap.

     "I have a wizard out here who wishes to see the Prelate."
     Zedd heard muffled, astonished acknowledgment from inside.
     "Go on in." Sister Philippa smiled while giving his back a gentle push.
"I'll see if I can find you some dinner."
     "I would  be not only  grateful, but greatly  in your  debt," Zedd told
her.
     As he  stepped  inside the tent, the people  were just  coming to their
feet to greet him.
     "Zedd! You old fool! You be alive!"
     Zedd grinned as Adie,  the old  sorceress  known as the  bone woman  in
their adopted homeland of Westland, rushed into his arms. He let out a grunt
as  she  momentarily squeezed  the  wind  from  his  lungs. He  smoothed her
square-cut, jawlength black and gray hair as he held her head to his chest.
     "I promised you'd see me again, now didn't I?"
     "Yes, you did," she whispered into his heavy robes.
     She pushed back, holding his arms, and looked him  over. She reached up
and smoothed down his unruly, wavy white hair.
     "You look as lovely as ever," he told her.
     She peered  at him with her  completely white  eyes. Her sight had been
taken from her when she was but a young woman. Adie now saw by  means of her
gift. In some ways, she saw better.
     "Where be your hat?"
     "Hat?"
     "I bought you  a fine hat arid  you  lost it. I see  you still have not
replaced it. You told me you would get another. I believe you promised."
     Zedd  hated the hat  with  the long  feather she'd bought for him  when
they'd  acquired the rest of his  clothes. He'd rather be wearing the simple
robes befitting a wizard of his rank and authority, but Ache had "lost" them
after he purchased  the  fancy maroon robes  with black  sleeves  and cowled
shoulders  he  now wore.  Three rows of  silver  brocade circled the  cuffs.
Thicker  gold  brocade ran around the neck and down the  front. A red  satin
belt set with a gold buckle gathered  the  outfit at  his thin  waist.  Such
clothes marked one with the gift as  an initiate. For one without  the gift,
such  clothes  befitted nobility or  in most  places a  wealthy merchant, so
although  Zedd  disliked the  ostentatious attire,  it had  at  times been a
valuable  disguise. Besides, Adie  liked him in the  maroon robes.  The hat,
though, was too much for him. It had been "misplaced."
     He noted that Adie  had  managed to keep her simple clothes  along  the
way. Yellow and real beads around the neck of her robes, sewn in  the shapes
of  the  ancient  symbols  of  her  profession  of sorceress, were the  only
ornamentation she wore.
     "I've been  busy,"  he said,  flicking his hand, hoping to  dismiss the
matter, "or I would have replaced the hat."
     "Bale," she scoffed. "You be up to mischief."
     "Why, I've been-"
     "Hush, now," Adie said. Holding his  arm in a tight grip,  she held out
the  long thin  fingers of her other hand.  "Zedd, this be Verna: Prelate of
the Sisters of the Light."
     The  woman looked to be in  her  late thirties,  perhaps early forties;
Zedd knew her  to be  much older. Ann,  Verna's  predecessor,  had  told him
Verna's age, and while he couldn't recall the exact number, it was somewhere
close to one hundred and sixty years-young for a  Sister of the  Light.  She
had simple, attractive features

     and  brown  hair  with  just  enough curl  and body to  add  a  hint of
sophistication. Her intent,  brown-eyed gaze  looked as if  it  could  scour
lichen off granite. By the lines of  a resolute  expression enduringly fixed
on her face, she appeared  to be a woman with a shell as tight as a beetle's
and just as hard.
     Zedd bowed his head. "Prelate. First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander,  at
your service." He let her know, by his tone, that it was  merely a figure of
speech.
     This was the woman who had taken Richard away to the Old World. Even if
she believed it was to save his life, Zedd, as First Wizard, viewed  such an
act  as abhorrent.  The  Sisters-sorceresses all-believed they  could  train
gifted  young men to be wizards.  They were wrong; such a task could only be
adequately accomplished by another wizard.
     She offered her  hand with the sunburst-patterned gold ring of  office.
He bent forward and kissed it, out of what he  thought must be their custom.
She pulled his hand close when he had finished, and kissed it in return.
     "I am humbled to meet the man who helped raise our Richard.  You  would
have  to be as rare a person as I  found him to be when we  helped begin his
training." She forced a chuckle. "We found it a formidable labor, trying  to
teach that grandson of yours."
     Zedd slightly altered  his  opinion of  the  woman, treating  her  with
greater caution. The air in the tent was stuffy and uncomfortable.
     "That  is because you are all oxen trying to teach a horse  to run. You
Sisters should stick to work more befitting your nature."
     "Yes,  yes,  you be  a  brilliant  man, Zedd,"  Adie  scoffed.  "Simply
brilliant. One of these days even 1 may come to believe you." She tugged his
sleeve, turning  him from  Verna's scarlet face. "And this be Warren,"  Adie
said.
     Zedd  inclined his head toward Warren, but the boy  was already falling
to his knees and bowing his blond head.
     "Wizard Zorander! This is quite an honor." He popped back up and seized
Zedd's hand in both of his, pumping it until Zedd thought his arm might come
undone at the  shoulder. "I'm so  pleased to meet you. Richard  told me  all
about  you.  I'm so pleased to meet a wizard of  your standing and talent. I
would be so happy to learn from you!"
     The happier he looked, the more Verna scowled.
     "Well, I'm pleased to meet you,  too, my boy." Zedd didn't  tell Warren
that  Richard had never mentioned him. But that was not out of disrespect or
neglect; Richard had never had a chance to tell Zedd a great  number of very
important things. Zedd thought he could sense through Warren's grip that the
young man was a wizard of unusual talents.
     A bear of a man with a curly rust-colored beard, a white scar  from his
left temple to his  jaw,  and heavy  eyebrows  stepped forward.  His grayish
green  eyes fixed on  Zedd with fierce intensity, but he  had a grin  like a
soldier on a long march who had spotted a lonely cask of ale..
     "General Reibisch,  commander of the D'Haran forces here in the south,"
the  man said, taking Zedd's  hand when Warren at  last  surrendered it  and
stepped back . beside Verna. "Lord Rahl's grandfather! What good fortune  to
see you, sir." His
     grip  was firm,  but  not  painful.  It got tighter.  "What  very  good
fortune."
     "Yes,  indeed,"  Zedd muttered. "Unfortunate as the circumstances  are,
General Reibisch."
     "Unfortunate . . . ?"

     "Well, never mind, for the moment," Zedd said, waving off the question.
He asked another, instead. "Tell me, General, have you begun  to dig all the
mass  graves,  yet?  Or  do you intend the few who are left  alive to simply
abandon all the bodies."
     "Bodies?"
     "Why . . .  yes, the bodies of all  your troops who are  going to die."

        Chapter 16

     I hope you like eggs,"  Sister  Philippa sang out as she swept into the
tent, holding out a steaming plate.
     Zedd rubbed his hands together. "Delightful!"
     Everyone  else was  still  standing  in stiff, stunned silence.  Sister
Philippa didn't seem to notice all the hanging jaws.
     "I had the cook add some ham and a  few other things he had about." She
glanced down at Zedd's form. "I thought you could use some substance."
     "Marvelous!" Zedd grinned  as he relieved her of the plate mounded high
with scrambled eggs and ham.
     "Ah . .  ." the  general began, seemingly befuddled as to how to  frame
his question, "might you kindly explain . . . what you mean by that,  Wizard
Zorander?"
     "Zedd will do."  Zedd looked up from inhaling the intoxicating aroma of
the  dish. "Dead."  He drew  the  fork across  his  throat. "You know, dead.
Nearly all of  them. Dead." He turned  back to Sister Philippa. "This smells
delightful." He  again  inhaled the steam  lifting from the  plate  of eggs.
"Simply delightful.  You are a woman of a kind heart and a skillful mind, to
think to have the cook add such a splendid complement of ingredients. Simply
delightful."
     The Sister beamed.
     The general lifted a hand. "Wizard Zorander, if I may-"
     Adie hushed  the burly general. "You  be  poor competition to  food. Be
patient."
     Zedd took a forkful, humming his pleasure at the flavor he encountered.
As  he took a second forkful, Adie  guided him to a simple bench at the side
of the tent. A table in the middle  held a few mugs and a lamp that lent the
cozy tent not only its light but its oily odor as well.
     Despite  Adie's advice to be patient, everyone  began  talking at once,
asking  questions and offering objections. Zedd  ignored them as he shoveled
in  the scrambled eggs. The  large chunks of ham were delicious.  He waved a
particular juicy piece of meat to the confounded spectators  to indicate his
pleasure with it. The spices, the onions, the peppers, and the warm lumps of
cheese were delightful. He rolled his eyes and moaned in bliss.
     It  was  the best food  he'd had in  days. His traveling  rations  were
simple and had long ago become boring. He had often grumbled that Spider ate
better than  he did. Spider  seemed smug about it, too, which  he had always
found annoying. It wasn't good for a horse to be smug with you.
     "Philippa,"  Verna growled,  "must you be  so pleased  about a plate of
eggs?"
     "Well the poor  man is practically starving." Puzzled by Verna's scowl,
she waggled her hand at Zedd. "Just look at him. I'm simply happy to see him
enjoy his meal, and pleased I could help one of the Creator's gifted."

     Zedd  slowed  when  he  all too soon approached the  end  of  his meal,
putting off the last  few bites. He could have eaten another  plate the same
size. General Reibisch, sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the small
tent, had been furiously twisting a strand of beard. Now, he leaned forward,
his intent gaze fixed on Zedd.
     "Wizard Zorander, I need-"
     "Zedd. Remember?"
     "Yes, Zedd.  Zedd, the lives of these  soldiers  are my responsibility.
Could you please tell me if you think they are in danger?"
     Zedd spoke around a mouthful. "I already did."
     "But . . . what is the nature of the danger?"
     "The gifted. You know, magic."
     The general straightened with a sober expression.  His fingers dug into
his muscular thighs. "The gifted?"
     "Yes. The enemy has gifted among them. I thought you knew."
     He blinked a few times as he seemed  to run it through his mind  again,
trying  to  discover  the  nugget  of  invisible  danger  in  Zedd's  simple
statement.
     "Of course we know that."
     "Ah. Then why haven't you dug some mass graves?"
     Verna  shot to her feet. "In the name of Creation! What do you think we
are, serving wenches? Here to bring you dinner? We  are gifted Sisters, here
to defend the army from Jagang's captive Sisters!"
     Adie stealthily signaled  Verna to sit down  and keep quiet.  Her voice
came out like gravel  in honey. "Why don't you tell us what you have  found,
Zedd?  I be  sure  the  general  and  the Prelate  would like to hear how to
improve our defenses."
     Zedd  scraped the  small yellow lumps across the plate, collecting them
into a final, pitifully  small forkful. "Prelate, I didn't  mean to imply  a
deliberate inadequacy on your part."
     "Well you certainly
     "You are all too good, that's all."
     "I beg your pardon?"
     "Too  good. You and your  Sisters have  spent your lives trying to help
people."
     "Well . . . 1, we-why, of course we help people. That's our calling."
     "Killing is not. Jagang will be intent on killing you all."
     "We know that, Zedd." The general scratched his beard, his gaze darting
back and  forth  between Verna and  Zedd. "The Prelate and  her Sisters have
helped us with detecting a number of enemy scouts and such. Just the same as
Sister Philippa, here, found you when you approached our camp, they've found
others intent on harm. They've done their part, Zedd, and without complaint.
Every soldier in this camp is glad to have them here."
     "All well and good, but when the army of the Imperial Order attacks, it
will be different. They will use the gifted to lay waste to your forces."
     "They  will  try,"  Verna  insisted,  trying to be  convincing  without
shouting, which  she was clearly  itching to do,  "but  we  are  prepared to
prevent such a thing."
     "That's right," Warren said, nodding his confidence. "We have gifted at
the ready at all times."
     "That's  good,  that's  good,"   Zedd  drawled,  as   if  he  might  be
reconsidering.  "Then  you  have dealt  with the simple threats. The  albino
mosquitoes and such."
     General Reibisch's bushy eyebrows wrinkled together. "The what?"
     Zedd   waved  his  fork.  "So,  tell  me,  then  just  to  satisfy   my
curiosity-what are

     the gifted planning to do when the enemy charges our  forces? Say, with
a line of cavalry?"
     "Lay down a line of fire  before  their cavalry,"  Warren said  without
hesitation. "As they charge in, we'll incinerate  them before  they  can  so
much as launch a spear."
     "Ah," Zedd said. "Fire." He put the last forkful in his mouth. Everyone
silently watched him chew.  He  paused in  his  chewing and  looked up. "Big
fire, I presume? Colossal gouts of flame, and all?"
     "What mosquitoes is he talking about,"  General Reibisch muttered under
his breath toward Verna and Warren beside him on his bench opposite Zedd and
Adie.
     "That's right," Verna said, ignoring the general. He sighed  and folded
his  arms across his  barrel chest. "A  proper line of  fire." Verna  waited
until  Zedd swallowed.  "Do you find  something  unsatisfactory  about that,
First Wizard?"
     Zedd shrugged. "Well . . ." He  paused,  then frowned. He leaned toward
the general, peering  more closely. Zedd wagged a  bony finger at  the man's
folded arms.
     "There's one now. A mosquito is about to suck your blood, General."
     "What? Oh." He swatted it. "They've been thick this summer. I think the
season for them is drawing to an  end,  though. We'll be  happy to be rid of
the little pests, I can tell you."
     Zedd waggled his finger again. "And were they all like that one'?"
     General Reibisch  lifted his forearm and glanced  down at the  squashed
bug. "Yes, the  bloodthirsty little . . ."  His voice trailed off. He peered
more closely. With a finger and thumb  he gingerly lifted the tiny insect by
a wing, holding it up to have a better look.
     "Well  I'll  be  .  .  .  this  thing is"-his  face  lost  a  shade  of
color-"white." His grayish-green eyes turned up toward Zedd. "What was  that
you were saying about . . . ?"
     "Albino mosquitoes," Zedd  confirmed as  he set his empty plate  on the
ground. He gestured with a sticklike finger at the general's flat assailant.
"Have you  ever  seen the albino  fever, General? Have any  of you? Terrible
thing, albino fever."
     "What's albino fever?" Warren asked. "1 never heard  of  it. I've never
read anything about it, either, I'm sure."
     "Really? Must be just a Midlands thing."
     The general peered more closely at the tiny white insect he was holding
up. "What does this albino fever do to a person?"
     "Oh, your flesh turns the most ghastly white." Zedd waved his fork. "Do
you know," he said, frowning in thought as if  distracted by something as he
looking up at the ceiling of the tent, "that I once  saw a wizard lay down a
simply prodigious font of flame before a line of charging cavalry?"
     "Well, there you  go," Verna said.  "You know its  value, then.  You've
seen it in action."
     "Yes . . ." Zedd drawled. "Problem was, the enemy had been prepared for
such a simpleminded trick."
     "Simpleminded!" Verna shot  to  her feet.  "I don't see how  you  could
possibly consider-"
     "The enemy had conjured curved shields just for such an eventuality."
     "Curved  shields?" Warren swiped back  a curly lock of his  blond hair.
"I've never heard of such a thing. What are curved-'
     "The wizard  who  laid down  the fire  had been expecting  shields,  of
course, and

     so he  made  his fire  resistant  to such  an  expected  defense. These
shields,  though,  weren't  conjured to  stop the fire"-Zedd's gaze. shifted
from Warren's wide eyes to Verna's scowl-"but to roll it."
     "Albino fever?" The  general waved  his  bug. "If you might,  could you
explain-"
     "Roll the fire?" Warren asked as he leaned forward.
     "Yes,"  Zedd said. "Roll  the  fire before the  cavalry  charge-so that
instead  of a simple cavalry assault,  the  defenders  now  had  deadly fire
rolling back at them."
     "Dear Creator . . ." Warren whispered. "That's ingenious-but surely the
shield would extinguish the fire."
     Zedd twirled  his  fork as  he spoke, as if to demonstrate  the  shield
rolling the flames. "Conjured by their own wizard for the  expected defense,
the fire  had been  hardened  against  shields, so instead  of fizzling,  it
stayed viable. That,  of course,  enabled the curved shield to roll the fire
back without it extinguishing. And,  of course, being  hardened to  s