She sighed. "I must say, your reputation far exceeds the reality of your mettle." The Sister scooped up the ball, turning it in her fingers as she inspected it. She huffed with disgust and tossed it aside, as if it were worthless. Zedd watched the ball bounce and roll across the ground, coming to rest at the side of the tent, against the bench where Adie sat. He looked up into her completely white eyes to see her watching him. Zedd turned away, waiting while the Sister made notes in her book. "All right," she finally said, "let's go have a look at what they've unloaded in the next tent." The soldiers lifted him from the chair before he had a chance to try to do it himself. His shoulders ached from his wrists being bound behind his back and from being lifted by his arms. Adie, too, was lifted to her feet. The book snapped closed. Sister Tahirah's wiry gray hair whipped around as she turned and led them out of the tent. Because the Sisters knew how dangerous items of magic from the Wizard's Keep could be, especially if the wrong combination of magic were to accidentally be allowed to combine or touch, they were cautious enough to bring the items, one at a time, out of each individual, protected, shielded crate in the wagons. Zedd knew that there were things in the Keep that, by themselves, were not dangerous, but became so in the presence of other things that, by themselves, were also not dangerous. Sometimes it was only the combination of specific items that created a desired outcome. The Sisters had vast experience in the most esoteric things of magic and so they at least understood the principles involved. They treated the cargo with the care due such potentially hazardous goods. Once each object was uncrated, they placed it, by itself, in a tent to await examination. They took Zedd and Adie from tent to tent so that Zedd could identify each treasure, tell them what it was, explain how it worked. They had been at it for days--how many, Zedd couldn't remember. Despite his best efforts, the endless days and nights had all begun to melt together in his mind. Zedd did all he could to stall, but there was only so much he could do. These women knew magic. They would not easily be fooled by any invented explanation. They had made very clear the consequences of any such deception. And, Zedd didn't know how much they knew. At times they feigned ignorance of something which they actually understood quite well, just to see if he was telling the truth. Fortunately, as of yet, they had uncovered nothing that was extravagantly dangerous. Most of the items from the crates were simple-looking objects, but were actually for a narrowly focused purpose--a pole that could remotely judge the depth of water in a well, an iron decoration shaped like a fan of leaves that prevented words from carrying beyond an open door where it was placed, a large looking glass that revealed when a person entered another room. While possibly useful to Emperor Jagang, such items were not all that valuable or dangerous; they were not going to help him to conquer and rule the world. What dangerous things the Sisters had uncrated and shown him were not really anything that a Sister couldn't easily produce with a spell of her own. The most dangerous item had been a constructed spell held within an ornate vase that, under specific conditions, such as when the vase was filled with water, created a temperature inversion that produced a blast of flame. Zedd was not betraying his cause or putting innocent lives at risk by revealing how the spell worked; any Sister worth her salt could reproduce the same effect. The purpose of the spell was protective; had it touched other stolen items, which, because they were stolen, was a reversal of intended ownership that such a spell recognized, it would have ignited and destroyed those items, keeping them from covetous hands. None of the things so far discovered would do Jagang any real good. There were things in the Keep, though, that could cause him harm. There were spells there, such as the constructed spell in the vase, that recognized the nature of the person invoking their magic. Opened by the right person, such as Zedd, those things would do nothing, but, opened by a thief, they would create calamity. The Keep had thousands of rooms. The looting of it had netted the Imperial Order a caravan of cargo wagons, but even that much hardly scratched the surface of the contents of the Keep. So far, Zedd had not seen any plums. He didn't know if he would live to see any. The ride in the box after his capture had been brutal. He was still not recovered from the injuries inflicted after meeting Jagang. Guards let the parents do what they would to convince Zedd and Adie to give in, but they wouldn't allow the parents to get so carried away that they killed such prize prisoners. The parents had known that they weren't to kill them, but in the heat of such raw passion, Zedd knew that such orders were easy to forget. Zedd yearned for them to kill him and end it. The emperor, though, needed them alive, so the guards stood careful watch. After the first few horrifying hours of listening to children being subjected to crippling torture, of being among their parents, who understandably demanded, quite forcefully, that he cooperate and tell the emperor what he wanted to know, Zedd had given in--not for the sake of the parents so much as to stop those brutal men from what they were doing to the children. He had figured that he had nothing to lose, really, by giving in. It stopped the torture of the children for the time being. The Keep was vast; the things they brought were only a tiny portion of them. Zedd reasoned that the caravan of wagons probably didn't hold anything of any real value to Jagang. It would take quite a while to catalog everything--it could be weeks more before they reached the last item. There was no purpose in allowing children to endure torture when there might not be anything useful for Zedd to betray to Jagang. Once, when they were alone while the Sister had gone to check on the preparations in the next tent, Adie had asked what he would do if they presented him with something that would materially help Jagang win. Zedd hadn't had a chance to answer; the soldiers had come in then and taken the two of them to the Sister in the next tent. He was hoping to drag out the process for as long as possible. He hadn't counted on how they would keep at it day and night. It sometimes took quite a while for the Sisters to get out the next treasure and have it ready. They were understandably cautious and took no chances. Those strange men without any trace of the gift who helped them might not be harmed if any errant item of magic were to accidentally be set in motion, but everyone else certainly was vulnerable. Careful as they were, there were enough people working at the preparations that Zedd and Adie were not allowed to sleep for long before they were taken off to unravel the next puzzle for them. As he and Adie were dragged through the dark camp to the next tent, Zedd's legs would hardly hold him. Seeing his daughter's long-lost ball had sapped much of his remaining strength. He had never felt so old, so feeble. He feared that his will to go on was flagging. He didn't know how much longer he could keep his sanity. He wasn't at all sure that he actually still possessed it. The world seemed to have turned into a crazy place. At times the whole thing seemed dreamlike. What he knew and what he didn't know sometimes seemed to have all twisted together into a knot of confusion. As he was marched through the dark camp, through the humid heat, he began to imagine that he saw things--mostly people--from his past. He began to doubt that he really had seen that ball. He wondered if, like some of the other things he was seeing, he had imagined it as well. Could it maybe have been a simple ball, and he only thought that it was the one his daughter had lost? Had he imagined the zigzagged colors around it? He was beginning to question himself over every little thing. Looking up at all the people in the crowded encampment, he thought he saw his long-dead wife, Erilyn, in the faces of the women held nearby under guard. They were mothers, their worst nightmares ready to come to life if Zedd didn't cooperate. His gaze passed over children clutching their mother's skirts, or their father's legs. They looked at him. his wavy white hair in disarray, probably thinking he was some crazy man. Maybe he was. The torches lit the sprawling camp with a kind of flickering light that made everything seem imaginary. The campfires, spread as far as he could see, looked like a star field lying across the ground, as if the world had turned upside down. "Wait," the Sister said to the guards. Zedd was jerked to a halt as the Sister ducked inside the tent. Adie cried out as the man holding her wrenched her arm in the act of stopping her. Zedd swayed on his feet, wondering if he might pass out. The whole nighttime camp wavered in his vision. As he looked at one of the girls held captive across the way, he stared, astonished, thinking he recognized her. Zedd looked up at the emperor's elite guard in the distance holding the child. Zedd blinked his blurred vision. The guard, in leather and mail armor, with a belt full of weapons, looked like a man Zedd used to know. Zedd turned away at the memory, only to see a Sister, making her way among the tents not far away, who also looked like someone else he knew. He looked around at soldiers going about their business. Elite soldiers guarding the emperor's compound looked like men he thought he remembered. Zedd truly was terrified, then. He was sure that he was losing his mind. He couldn't possibly be seeing the people he thought he saw. His mind was all he had. He didn't want to be some babbling old man sitting by the side of a road begging. He knew that people sometimes became irrational--lost their mind-- when they got old or were pressed past their endurance. He had known people who had snapped, who had gone insane, and saw things that weren't really there. That's what he was doing. He was having visions of people from his past who weren't really there. That was a sure sign of insanity--seeing your past come to life, thinking you were back with long-lost loved ones. His mind was the most important thing he had. Now he was losing that, too. He was losing his sanity. CHAPTER 50 Nicholas heard an annoying noise back in another place. A disturbance of some sort, back where his body waited. He ignored it, watching the streets, watching the buildings go by. The sun had just set. People, wary people, moved past. Color. Sound. Activity. It was a dingy place, with buildings crowded close. Watch, watch. Alleyways were dark and narrow. Strangers stared. The street smelled. None of the buildings were more than two stories; he was sure of it. Most were not even that. Again, he heard the noise back where his body waited. It was forceful, calling his attention. He ignored the thump, thump, thump back somewhere else as he watched, trying to see where they were going. What's this? Watch, watch, watch. He thought he knew, but he wasn't positive. Look, look. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to watch. He so enjoyed watching. More noise. Obnoxious, demanding, thumping noise. Nicholas felt his body around him as he slammed back to where it waited, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor. He opened his eyes, blinking, trying to see in the dim room. Slivers of dusk leaking in around the edges of the closed shutters lent only somber light to the room. He stood, wavering on his feet for a moment, not yet used to the strange feeling of being back in his own body. He started walking across the room, looking down, watching as he lifted each foot out ahead, shifted his weight with every step. He had been gone so much lately, day and night, that he was not used to having to do such things on his own. He had been so often in another place, another body, that he had difficulty adjusting to his own. Someone was banging on the door, yelling for him to open it. Nicholas was furious at the uninvited caller, at such a rude intrusion. With wobbly gait, he made his way to the door. It felt so confining being back in his own body. It moved in such an odd manner. He rolled his shoulders, resisting the urge to bend forward. He pulled and stretched his neck one way, then the other. It was bothersome to have to move himself about, to use his own muscles, to feel himself breathe, to see, hear, smell, feel with his own senses. The door was barred by a heavy bolt to prevent unwelcome callers from entering while he was off to other places. It wouldn't do to have someone messing with his body while he wasn't there using it himself. Wouldn't do at all. Someone pounding on the other side of the door bellowed his name and demanded to be let in. Nicholas lifted the heavy bolt and heaved it over. He threw open the thick door. A young soldier stood just outside in the hall. A common, grubby soldier. A nobody. Nicholas stared in stunned fury at the lowly man who would just walk up the stairs to the room everyone knew was off-limits and pound on the forbidden door. Where was Najari's flat, crooked nose when he needed it? Why wasn't someone guarding the door? A broken bone jutted from the back of the bloody fist the man had been hammering against the door. Nicholas craned his neck, peering past the soldier out into the dimly lit hall, and saw the bodies of guards sprawled in pools of blood. Nicholas ran his fingernails back through his hair, shivering with delight at the silken smooth feel of oils gliding against his palm. He rolled his shoulders with the pleasure of the sensation. Opening his eyes, he fixed his gaze on the wide-eyed, common soldier whom he was about to kill. The man was dressed like many of the Imperial Order soldiers, at least the better-outfitted soldiers, with leather chest armor, a sleeve of protective mail on his right arm, and a number of leather straps and belts holding a variety of weapons from a short sword to a mace with a spiked metal head to knives. Despite how deadly all his gear appeared, the expression on his face was one of startled terror. Nicholas puzzled for a moment at what such a meaningless man could possibly have to say that would be worth his life. "What is it, you insipid fool?" The man lifted an arm, then the hand, then a single finger in a manner that reminded Nicholas of nothing so much as a puppet having its strings pulled. The finger tipped to one side, then the other, then back again, the way someone might waggle a finger in admonition. "Ah, ah, ah." The finger twitched side to side again. "Be polite. Be awfully polite." The soldier, his eyes wide, seemed surprised by his own haughty words. The voice sounded too deep--too mature--to belong to this young man. The voice, in fact, sounded dangerous in the extreme. "What is this?" Nicholas frowned at the soldier. "What's this about?" The man started into the room, his legs moving in a most peculiar, stilted manner. In some ways it reminded Nicholas of how it must look when he used his own legs after not being in his body for a long spell. He stepped aside as the man walked woodenly into the center of the dim room and turned. Blood dripped from the hand that had been pounding against the door, but the man, his eyes still wide with fear, seemed not to notice what had to be painful injuries. His voice, though, came out anything but afraid. "Where are they, Nicholas?" Nicholas approached the man and cocked his head. "They?" "You promised them to me, Nicholas. I don't like it when people don't keep their word. Where are they?" Nicholas drew his brow down even farther, leaned in even more. "Who?" "Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor!" the soldier bellowed in unrestrained rage. Nicholas backed away a few paces. He understood, now. He had heard the stories, heard that the man could do such things. Now he was seeing it for himself. This was Emperor Jagang, the dream walker himself. "Remarkable," Nicholas drawled. He approached the soldier who was not a soldier and tapped a finger against the side of the man's head. "That you in there, Your Excellency?" He tapped the man's temple again. "That's you, isn't it, Excellency." "Where are they, Nicholas?" It was as dangerous-sounding a question as Nicholas had ever heard. "I told you that you would have them, and you shall." "I think you're lying to me, Nicholas," the voice growled. "I don't think you have them, as you promised you would." Nicholas flipped a hand dismissively as he strolled off a few paces. "Oh, foo. I have them by a string." "I think otherwise. I have reason to believe that they aren't down here at all. I have reason to believe that the Mother Confessor herself is far to the north . .. with her army." Nicholas frowned as he approached the man, leaning in close, peering into the eyes. "Do you completely lose your senses when you go cavorting into another man's mind like that?" "Are you saying it isn't so?" Nicholas was losing patience. "I was just watching them when you barged in here to pester me. They were both there--Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor." "Are you sure?" came the deep gravelly voice out of the young soldier's mouth. Nicholas planted his fists on his hips. "Are you questioning me? How dare you! I am Nicholas the Slide. I will not be questioned by anyone!" The soldier took an aggressive step forward. Nicholas held his ground and lifted a finger in warning. "If you want them, then you had better be awfully careful." The soldier watched with wide eyes, but Nicholas could see more in those eyes: menace. "Talk, then, before I lose my patience." Nicholas screwed his mouth up in annoyance. "Whoever told you that they were to the north, that the Mother Confessor is with their army, either doesn't know what they're talking about or is lying to you. I've kept a careful eye on them." "But have you seen them lately?" The room was growing dark. Nicholas cast a hand toward the table, sending a small spark of his gift into three candles there, setting their wicks to flame. "I told you, I was just watching them. They are in a city not far from here. Soon, they will be coming here, to me, and then I will have them. You don't have long to wait." "What makes you think they're coming to you?" "I know everything they do." Nicholas held his arms aloft, his black robes slipping up to his elbows, gesturing expansively as he walked around the man, speaking of what he alone knew. "I watch them. I have seen them lying together at night, the Mother Confessor tenderly holding her husband in her arms, holding his head to her shoulder, comforting his terrible pain. It's quite touching, actually." "His pain?" "Yes, his pain. They are in Northwick right now, a city not far to the north of here. When they are finished there, if they live through their visit, then they will be coming here, to me." Jagang in the soldier looked around, taking in the freshly dead bodies lying against the wall. His attention returned to Nicholas. "I asked, what makes you think so?" Nicholas looked over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow at the emperor. "Well, you see, these fool people here--the pillars of Creation who so fascinate you--have poisoned the poor Lord Rahl. They did it to try to insure his help in getting rid of us." "Poisoned him? Are you sure?" Nicholas smiled at the note of interest he detected in the emperor's voice. "Oh, yes, quite sure. The poor man is in a great deal of pain. He needs an antidote." "Then he will do what he must to get such an antidote. Richard Rahl is a surprisingly resourceful man." Nicholas leaned his backside against the table and folded his arms. "He may be resourceful, but he's now in a great deal of trouble. You see, he needs two more doses of the antidote. One of them is in North-wick. That's why he went there." "You would be surprised at what that man can accomplish." It would have been impossible to miss the bristling anger in the emperor's voice. "You would be a fool to underestimate him, Nicholas." "Oh, but I never underestimate anyone, Excellency." Nicholas smiled meaningfully at the emperor watching him through another man's eyes. "You see, I'm reasonably sure that Richard Rahl will retrieve the antidote in Northwick. In fact, I am counting on it. We shall see. I was watching him as you came in, watching what would happen. You spoiled it. "But even if he obtains the antidote in Northwick, he will still need to get the last dose. The antidote in Northwick alone will not spare his life." "Where's this other dose of his antidote?" Nicholas reached in a pocket and showed the emperor the square-sided bottle, along with a satisfied smile. "I have it." The man with an emperor inside him smiled. "He may come to take it from you, Nicholas. But, more likely, he will have someone else make him more of the antidote so that he won't even have to bother coming here." "Oh, I don't think so. You see, Excellency, I am quite thorough in my work. This poison that Lord Rahl took is complex, but not nearly as complex as the antidote. I know, because I had the only man who can make it tortured until he told me what it was, told me all about it, told me its secrets. It contains a whole list of things I couldn't even begin to recall. "I had the man killed, of course. Then I had the man who tortured the confession out of him, tortured the antidote's list of ingredients out of him, killed as well. It wouldn't do to have the resourceful Richard Rahl find either man and somehow discover from them what was in the cure. "So, you see, Excellency, there is no one to make Lord Rahl any more of the antidote." He held the bottle by the neck and wagged it before the man. "This is the last dose. Lord Rahl's last chance at life." Through the eyes of a young soldier, Jagang watched the bottle Nicholas dangled before him. Any trace of humor had vanished. "Then Richard Rahl will come here and get it." Nicholas pulled the cork. He took a whiff. The liquid inside carried the slight aroma of cinnamon. "You think so, Excellency?" Making a great show of it, Nicholas poured the liquid out onto the floor. As Emperor Jagang watched, Nicholas shook the bottle, making sure that the very last drop fell out. "So, you see, Excellency, I have everything well in hand. Richard Rahl will not be a problem. He will shortly die from the poison--if my men don't manage to get him before then. Either way, Richard Rahl is a dead man--just as you requested." Nicholas bowed, as if at the conclusion of a grand performance before an appreciative audience. The man smiled again, a smile of strained forbearance. "And what of the Mother Confessor?" the emperor asked. Nicholas noted the clear undertone of restrained wrath. He was displeased not to be roundly admired for his great accomplishment. After all. this Emperor Jagang had not managed to capture the prize he so keenly sought. Nicholas smiled indulgently. "Well, the way I see it, Excellency, now that I've told you Lord Rahl is soon to join the ranks of the Keeper's flock in the underworld, I have no assurance that you will keep your part of the bargain. I would like a commitment, on your part, before I give you the Mother Confessor." "What makes you think you can capture her?" "Oh, I have that well in hand. Her own nature will deliver her into my hands." "Her own nature?" "You let me worry about that, Excellency. All you need know is that I will deliver the Mother Confessor to you, alive, as promised. You might say that Lord Rahl was free--a gift on my part--but you will have to pay the price if you are to have the prize you covet: the Mother Confessor." "And what would be your price?" Nicholas strolled around the man in the center of the room. He gestured with the empty antidote bottle at the surroundings. "Not my idea of the proper way to live, if one has to live." "So, you would have riches as a reward for doing your duty to the Creator, to the Imperial Order, and to your emperor." The way Nicholas saw it, he had done more than his duty that night in the woods with the Sisters. Instead of saying so, he shrugged. "Well, I will let you have the rest of the world you have fought so hard to gain. I only want D'Hara. An empire of worth for my own." "You wish to rule the land of D'Hara?" Nicholas performed an exaggerated bow. "Under you, of course, Excellency." He straightened. "I will rule as do you, through fear and terror, all in the name of sacrificing for the betterment of mankind." The dream walker watched through the eyes of the frightened soldier. The glint in those eyes was looking dangerous again. "You play a risky game, Slide, making such demands. Your life must mean little to you." Nicholas showed the emperor a smile that said he was tiring of trifling. "Hate to live, live to hate." Finally, the emperor's smile returned to the man's lips. "D'Hara is your wish? It is done. Lord Rahl dead, and the Mother Confessor delivered to me, alive, and you will then have D'Hara to do with as you wish... as long as you pay homage to the rule of the Imperial Order." Nicholas indulged Jagang with a more polite smile as he bowed his head. "But of course." "Then, when Richard Rahl is dead and I have the Mother Confessor, you shall be named Emperor Nicholas of the land of D'Hara." "You are a wise emperor." This was the man who had prescribed Nicholas's fate. This was the man who had sent those Sisters to practice their vile craft, to sunder him with the terrible agony of destroying who he had been, to mother him in an agonizing second Creation. They had decreed that he sacrifice himself to their cause. Nicholas had had no say in it. Now, at least, for the small task of dealing with the petty enemies of the Order, he would have his reward. He would have riches and power that he could never have dared imagine before he had been reborn. They had destroyed him, but they had created him again more powerful than he had ever been. Now he was but one step away from being Emperor Nicholas. It had been a bitter road. Driven by angry need, by hatred, Nicholas thrust out his hand as he thrust his own mind, like a hot dagger, into the mind of this man before him, into the spaces between his thoughts, into the marrow of his soul. He hungered to feel the slick heat of this other spirit slide into his own, the hot rush of taking him while Jagang was still within the man's mind. But there was nothing there. In that spark of time, Jagang has already slipped away. The man crashed to the floor, dead. Nicholas--Emperor Nicholas--smiled at the game only just begun. He was beginning to wonder if he had set the price too low. CHAPTER 51 As they made their way up the street, Kahlan glanced to the small windows in the surrounding buildings. In the gathering darkness, she doubted that the faces she saw peering out of the windows could tell much about the people they saw out in the street, but she pulled the hood of her cloak forward anyway. From the stories the men had told, it was not safe to be a woman in Bandakar, so Kahlan, Jennsen, and Cara covered their identity to draw as little attention as possible. Kahlan knew that people in fear for their own lives sometimes tried to shift attention away from themselves by offering another to the wolves. Worse, she also knew that there were bitter people devoted to the morbid ideal of the perpetual cannibalism of appeasement that they defined as peace. Richard slowed and checked the alley as they passed. One hand gripped the front of his simple black cloak so that, if need be, he could lift it open and draw his sword. Their men were spread out so as not to appear to be a mob moving through Northwick. Any gathering of crowds of men, except in markets, would no doubt be reported and swiftly draw the attention of the Imperial Order soldiers. They had timed their entry into the city to be just as night fell so as to better obscure them, yet not so late that their presence on the streets would be suspicious. "There," Owen said as they reached the corner, tilting his head to the right. "Down that way." Richard looked back over his shoulder to make sure that everyone was still with him, then turned down the narrow street. The buildings in the city were mostly single-story, but they were entering a district where a number had a second story, usually hanging several feet out over the street. Kahlan saw nothing taller than the squat two-story buildings. The area they had turned in to reeked with the stench of sewage in a shallow ditch to the side. The dusty streets of Northwick kept making her cough. She imagined that when it rained the place turned into a quagmire that stank even worse. She saw that Richard made a great effort not to cough. It wasn't always possible. At least, when he did, he wasn't coughing up blood. As they kept to the shadows in under the overhangs and eaves, Kahlan moved up closer to him. Jennsen followed right behind. Anson, out ahead, scouted their route, looking for all the world as though he were by himself. Richard scanned the sky again. It was empty. They hadn't seen any black-tipped races since before they started up the pass into Bandakar. Kahlan and Cara were glad not to see the huge black birds. Richard, though, seemed as troubled by not seeing them as he once was when he did. Cara hung back a bit, along with a half-dozen men. Tom and some others were moving up a parallel street. Yet other men, who knew where they were headed, made their way through the city by a different route. Even though there were less than fifty in their force, such numbers together could bring attention and trouble. For now, they didn't need trouble. They needed the antidote. "Where is the city center?" Kahlan asked Owen when she got close enough to be able to speak in a low voice. Owen swept his arm around, indicating the street they were on. "This is the place. These shops are where the major commerce is, where people come. In the open squares the people sometimes set up markets." Kahlan saw a leather shop, a bakery, a place that sold cloth, but nothing more elaborate. "This is the center of your great city? These post-and-beam buildings with living quarters over the shops? This is your major business center?" "Yes," Owen said, sounding half puzzled and half proud. Kahlan let out a sigh, but didn't comment. Richard did. "This is the result of your advanced culture?" He gestured around at the shabby daub-and-wattle buildings. "In close to three thousand years this is what your great culture has accomplished? This is what you have managed to build?" Owen smiled. "Yes. It is magnificent, is it not?" Instead of answering the question, Richard said, "I thought you were in Altur'Rang." "I was." "Well, even that dingy place was far more advanced than this city of Northwick." "It was? I am sorry, Lord Rahl, but I did not see much of Altur'Rang. I was afraid to go far into such a place, and I did not stay for long." Owen looked back at Kahlan. "Do you mean to say that the city where you are from is more magnificent than this one?" Kahlan blinked at the man. How could she possibly explain Aydin-dril, the Wizard's Keep, the Confessors' Palace, the palaces on Kings Row, the People's Palace, the marble and granite work, the soaring columns, the noble works of art, or any of a hundred other places and sights to a man who thought straw-and-dung buildings were an example of advanced culture? In the end, she decided that this was not the time to try. "Owen, I hope that when we are all free of the oppression of the Imperial Order, Richard and I can show you and your people some other places in the world outside of Bandakar--show you some other centers of major commerce and art, some of what mankind elsewhere has accomplished." Owen smiled. "I would like that, Mother Confessor. I would like it very much." He stopped abruptly. "Oh, here is the place. It is down here." A head-high wooden gate weathered to a brownish gray barred the alleyway beyond from sight. Richard checked both ways up the street, looking to see if anyone was watching. The street was empty of everyone but their men. As he kept an eye to the street, he pushed the gate open enough to allow Owen to slip through. Owen poked his head back out. "Come, it is clear." Richard gave a hand signal to the men up at the corner. He put his arm around Kahlan's waist, holding her close as he squeezed with her through the gate into the alley. The walls of the buildings on either side that came to the edge of the narrow, dusty alleyway had no windows. Some of the tightly packed structures that weren't set so far back had room for small backyards. As they moved cautiously up the alley, more of their men poured in through the gate at the far end. Chickens penned in one of the yards flapped their wings in fright at the people moving close by. Jennsen pulled Betty along by her rope, keeping the goat close so she couldn't cause any trouble. Betty remained quiet, seeming nervous in the strange surroundings of a city. She wasn't even wagging her tail as she peered up at Richard, Kahlan, and Jennsen for reassurance as they moved deeper into the heart of the jumble of buildings. Tom appeared at the other end of the alleyway, bringing another group of men. Richard signaled for them to spread out and wait at that end of the alleyway. Cara came up from behind, the hood of her cloak pulled up like Kahlan's and Jennsen's. "I don't like it." "Good," Richard whispered in answer. "Good?" Cara asked. "You think it's good that I don't like this place?" "Yes," Richard said. "If you were ever happy and unconcerned, then I'd be worried." Cara twisted her mouth with a reply she decided to keep to herself. "Here," Owen said, grabbing Richard's arm to stop him. Richard looked where Owen had pointed and then stared down at the man. "This is a palace." Owen nodded. "One of them. We have several palaces. I told you, we are an advanced culture." Richard gave Kahlan a sidelong glance, but said nothing. From what Kahlan could see in the dim light, the backyard was dry dirt with clumps of grass growing here and there. A wooden stairway at the back of the building led up to a small balcony with a door onto the second floor. As they passed through a short gate into the yard, Kahlan saw that under the stairs there was a stairwell going down. Owen looked around, then leaned close. "They are downstairs. This is where they are hiding the Wise One." Richard scanned the alley and the surrounding buildings. He rubbed his fingertips across his brow. "And the antidote is in there?" Owen nodded. "Do you wish to wait while I go get it?" Richard shook his head. "We'll go with you." Kahlan held his arm, wishing she could do more to comfort his pain. The best thing, though, was to get the antidote. The sooner they rid him of the poison, the sooner he could deal with solving the problem of the headaches caused by the gift. Some of their men waited nearby. She saw in their eyes their fear of being back in a city where the Imperial Order soldiers had control. She didn't know what she and Richard could do to help them free their people of those troops, but she intended to come up with something. Were it not for her desperate act, no matter how unwitting, these people would not be suffering and dying at the hands of the Order. The last gray glow of twilight made Richard's eyes look as if they were made of steel. He pulled Jennsen close. "Why don't you and Tom stay out here, with Betty, and stand watch. Stay under the concealment of the stairs and balcony. If you see any soldiers, come let us know." Jennsen nodded. "I'll let Betty graze on the grass. It would look more natural if any patrols pass by." "Just keep out of sight," he said. "If soldiers see a young woman like you they won't hesitate to snatch you." "I'll keep her out of sight," Tom said as he came up into the yard. He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "I have the men spread out so they won't be so noticeable." Kahlan and Cara followed Richard and Owen toward the back of the building. At the stairwell down, Owen paused when Richard instead went to the door into the building. "This way, Lord Rahl." "I know. Wait while I check the hallway inside, make sure it's clear." "It is just empty rooms where people sometimes meet." "I want to check it anyway. Cara, wait here with Kahlan." Kahlan followed Richard to the door under the balcony. "I'm going with you." Cara was right on Kahlan's heels. "If you want to check the hall," she told Richard, "then you may come with us." After a quick glance at Kahlan's eyes, he didn't argue with her. Looking at Cara, he said, "Sometimes ..." Cara flashed him a defiant smile. "You wouldn't know what to do without me." Kahlan saw that as he turned to the door, he couldn't help but smile. Her heart lifted at seeing Richard's smile, and then she felt a sudden pang of sorrow for Cara, knowing how she must miss General Meiffert with their army far to the north in D'Hara. It wasn't often that a Mord-Sith could come to care about someone the way Kahlan knew Cara cared about Benjamin. Cara wouldn't come out and admit it, though, and had put first her wish to protect Richard and Kahlan. When she and Cara had been back with that army, Kahlan had promoted the then captain to general after a battle in which they had lost a number of officers. Captain Meiffert had risen to the occasion. Since then, he had held their army together. While she had complete faith in him, she also feared for his well-being, as Cara certainly must. Kahlan wondered if they would ever again see the young general. Richard opened the door a crack and peered into the dark hallway beyond. It was empty. Cara, Agiel in hand, pushed through and entered ahead of them, wanting to be sure that it was safe. Kahlan followed Richard in. There were two doors to each side. At the far end of the hall stood a door with a small window. "What's out there?" Kahlan whispered as Richard looked through the window. "The street. I see some of our men." On the way back, Richard checked rooms on one side while Cara checked the rooms on the other. They were all empty, just as Owen had said. 'This might be a good place to hide our men," Cara said. Richard nodded. "That's what I was thinking. We could make strikes from here, from their midst, rather than risk being spotted corning in from the countryside to attack." Before they reached the back door, Richard suddenly stumbled, banging a shoulder against the wall before going to one knee.