f patience, in all that time`? Though our  bodies may look about
the same age, and in  many ways I am no older than you, I have lived near to
seven  of  your  lifetimes. Do  you  honestly  believe that  you would  have
patience to exceed mine? Do you think me some young  foolish girl for you to
outwit or outwait?"
     His demeanor cooled. "Nicci, 1
     "And don't think to  make  friends with me, or win  me  over. I  am not
Denna, or  Verna,  or Warren,  or even  Pasha,  for  that  matter.  I'm  not
interested in friends."
     He turned a little and ran a hand over the stallion's shoulder when the
horse snorted and stamped a hoof at the  smell of the woodsmoke curling  out
from the upper limbs of the shelter tree.
     "I want to  know what vile thing you did to that poor woman to make her
tell you about Denna."
     "The Mord-Sith told me in return for a favor."
     Frowning his incredulity, he turned to her once more. "What favor could
you possibly do for a MordSith?"
     "I cut her throat."
     Richard  closed his  eyes as  his head sank with grief for this unknown
woman who had died because of him. He clenched her weapon in his fist to his
heart.
     His voice lost its fire. "1 don't suppose you know her name?"
     It  was  this, his empathy for others, even others he didn't know, that
not only made  him the man he was, but shackled  him. His concern for others
would also be the thing that eventually brought him to understand the virtue
in what she was doing. He, too, would then willingly work  for the righteous
cause of the Order.
     "I do." Nicci said. "Hania."
     "Hania." He looked heartsick. "I didn't even know her."
     "Richard."  With a finger under his chin, Nicci gently brought his face
up.  "I want  you  to  know that I did  not torture her. I  found  her being
tortured.  I  was not happy about what  I saw.  I killed the man who did it.
Hania was beyond any help. I offered her release from her pain, a quick end,
if she would tell me about you.  I never asked her to betray you in any  way
that the Order would want. I asked only

     about  your past, about  your first captivity.  I wanted  to understand
what you said that first day at the Palace of the Prophets, that's all."
     Richard didn't look relieved, as she had intended.
     "You withheld  that quick release, as you call it,  until she had given
you what you wanted. That makes you a party to her torture."
     In the  gloom, Nicci looked away in  pain and anguish at the  memory of
that bloody  deed. It  had  long since  lost its ability to  make  her  feel
anything more than a ghost of emotions.
     There were so many needing release from their suffering-so many old and
sick,  so many  wailing  children,  so many destitute and hopeless and poor.
This woman had merely been another of life's victims needing release. It was
for the best.
     Nicci had renounced the Creator in  order to do His work, and sworn her
soul to the Keeper of the underworld. She had to; only one  as  evil as  she
would fail to feel any fitting feelings, any proper compassion, for all  the
suffering and desperate need. It was grim irony-faithfully serving the needy
in such a way.
     "Perhaps you see it that way, Richard," Nicci said in a hoarse voice as
she  stared into the numb nightmare of memories.  "I did  not.  Neither  did
Hania. Before I cut her throat for her, she thanked  me for what I was about
to do."
     Richard's eyes offered no mercy. "And  why did  you make  her tell  you
about me-about Denna?"
     Nicci snagged her cloak tighter on her shoulders. "Isn't it obvious?"
     "You couldn't possibly make the same mistake Denna made. You aren't the
woman she was, Nicci."
     She was tired.  The  first night, he had not slept,  she knew.  She had
felt his eyes on  her back. She knew how much he hurt. Turned away from him,
she had wept silently at  the hate his eyes held, at the burden of being the
one to have to do what was best. The world was such an evil place.
     "Perhaps,  Richard," she said in a soft voice, "you  will someday teach
me the difference."
     She  was so very tired. The night before, when he had succumbed to  his
weariness, and turned away from her to sleep, Nicci had in turn stayed awake
all night, watching  him in his sound sleep as she  felt  the  connection of
magic to the Mother Confessor.  The  connection brought Nicci  great empathy
for her, as well.
     It was all for the best.
     "For now," Nicci said, "let's get inside out of  this foul weather. I'm
cold and I'm hungry. We need to get some rest, too. And as I've told you, we
have things to discuss, first."
     She couldn't lie to him, she knew. She couldn't tell him everything, of
course, but she dared not lie to him in the things she did tell him.
     The dance had begun.


        Chapter 26

     Richard broke up  the sausage  Nicci  gave him from her  saddlebag  and
tossed it in the pot with  the simmering  rice. The things she  had told him
kept shouting in his mind as he tried to fit them into their proper order.
     He didn't know how  much of  what she had said  he dared to believe. He
feared it  was  all true. Nicci just  didn't seem  to  need to lie to him-at
least not about what she had told him so  far. She  didn't seem  as  .  .  .
hostile,  as he  thought  she would  have to be.  If  anything,  she  seemed
melancholy, perhaps because of  what she had done-although,  he  had trouble
believing  that  a  confessed  Sister of  the  Dark  would suffer  a  guilty
conscience. It was probably just some bizarre part of her act, some artifice
directed toward her ends.
     He stirred the pot of rice with  a stick he'd  peeled the  bark off of.
"You said  there were things to discuss." He rapped  the stick clean  on the
edge of the pot. "I assume that means there are orders you wish to issue."
     Nicci blinked, as if he'd caught her thinking about something else. She
looked out of place, sitting prim and straight in a wayward pine, dressed as
she  was  in her  fine  black  dress. Richard  would never before have  ever
thought of Nicci  out-of-doors,  much less sitting  on  the ground. The very
idea had always seemed ludicrous to him. Her dress constantly made him think
of Kahlan,  not  only  because of it  being so  completely opposite  that it
evoked  the  comparison,  but also  because  he so  vividly  recalled  Nicci
connected to Kahlan by that awful rope of magic.
     That memory twisted him in agony.
     "Orders?" Nicci folded her hands in her lap and met his gaze. "Oh, yes,
I have a few requests I wish you to honor. First, you may not use your gift.
Not at all. Not in any way. Is that clear? Since, as I recall, you  have  no
love of the  gift, this  should be  neither a burden nor a difficult request
for  you to follow, especially because there is  something you do love which
would not survive such a betrayal. Do you understand?"
     Her cold  blue eyes conveyed the threat perhaps  even  better  than her
words. Richard gave her  a single nod, committing himself  to what, exactly,
he wasn't entirely sure at the moment.
     He poured her steaming dinner in a shallow wooden bowl and handed it to
her along  with  a  spoon.  Nicci smiled her thanks.  He set the  pot on the
ground between  his legs and took a spoonful of rice, blowing on it until it
was cool enough to eat.  He watched  her from  the corner of his  eye as she
took a dainty taste.
     Beyond her physical perfection, Nicci had a singularly expressive face.
She seemed  to go cold and blank when  she was unhappy, or when she meant to
convey anger, threat, or displeasure.  She didn't really scowl the way other
people did when

     they felt those  emotions; rather, a  look of cool detachment descended
on her. That  look was, in  its own way,  far more  disturbing. It  was  her
impenetrable armor.
     On the other  hand, she was expressively animated when she was  pleased
or  thankful. Even  more  than  that,  though, such  pleasure  or  gratitude
appeared genuine. He remembered her as aloof, and while she  still possessed
a noble bearing, to some extent her air of reticence had lifted to reveal an
innocent delight in any kindness, or even simple courtesy.
     Richard still  had bread Cara had baked for  him. He hated sharing that
bread  with  this evil woman, but it now seemed a childish consideration. He
tore off a piece and offered it to Nicci. She took it with the reverence due
something greater than mere bread.
     "I also expect you to keep  no secrets from me," she said after another
bite.  "You would not  like  me  to discover you were doing so. Husbands and
wives have no need for secrets."
     Richard  supposed not, but they were  hardly  husband and  wife. Rather
than say so, he said instead, "You seem to know a lot about how husbands and
wives behave."
     Rather than  rising  to his bait, she gestured with her  bread  at  her
bowl. "This is very good, Richard. Very good indeed."
     "What  is  it  you  want,  Nicci? What is the  purpose  of this  absurd
pretense?"
     The  firelight played across her alabaster face,  and  lent her  hair a
torrid  color  it didn't in reality possess.  "I took you because  I need an
answer which I believe you will provide."
     Richard broke a stout branch in two across his knee. "You said husbands
and wives  have no need for secrets."  He used half the  branch to  push the
burning wood together before placing the branch atop the fire. "Then  aren't
wives, too, supposed to be honest?"
     "Of course." Her hand with the bread lowered. She rested her wrist over
her knee. "I will be honest with you, too, Richard."
     "Then  what's the question? You said  you took me because you  need  an
answer you think I can provide. What's the question?"
     Nicci stared oft again. once more looking anything but the grim captor.
She looked as  if  memories,  or perhaps fears, haunted  her. It was somehow
more unsettling than  the sneer of an armed guard outside of the bars of his
cage.
     The rain outside had increased to a dull roar. They'd made camp just in
time. Richard couldn't help but remember the cozy  times he'd had in wayward
pines huddled beside Kahlan. At the thought of Kahlan, his heart sank.
     "I don't know," Nicci  finally said. "I honestly don't, Richard. I seek
something,  but I will only know it when I find it. After nearly  all my one
hundred and eightyone years  without knowing it  existed, I  finally saw the
first hint of it not long ago . . . ." She seemed to be looking through  him
again, to some point beyond. Her voice, too, seemed to  be addressed to that
distant place her vision beheld. "That was when you stood in a collar before
all those Sisters, and defied them. Perhaps I will  find the  answer  when I
understand  what it was  I saw that day, in  that room. It was not just you,
but you were its center . . . ."
     Her  eyes  focused  once  more on  his  face.  She  spoke  with  gentle
assurance. "Until then, you will live. I have  no  intention of harming you.
You need fear no  torture  from me. I'm not like  them-that woman, Derma, or
like the Sisters of the Light, using you for their games."

     "Don't patronize me.  You are using me for your own game, no  less than
they used me for theirs."
     She  shook her head. "I want you to know, Richard, that  I have nothing
but respect for you. I probably have  more  respect for  you than any person
you have ever met. That's why I took you. You are a rare person, Richard."
     "I'm a war wizard. You've just never seen one of those before."
     She  spurned the notion  with a dismissive flick of  her  hand. "Please
don't  try  to impress  me with your `power.'  I'm  not in the mood for such
silliness."
     Richard knew it was  no idle boast on her part.  She was a sorceress of
remarkable ability. He doubted he had any hope  of outsmarting her knowledge
of magic.
     She  was not acting  the way he had expected a Sister of the Dark would
act, though.  Richard  put  his  anger,  hurt, and  heartache  aside for the
moment,  knowing  he had to face what was, rather than  putting his hope  in
wishes, and spoke to Nicci in the same gentle fashion she used with him.
     "I don't understand what it is you want of me, Nicci."
     She shrugged in an involuntary gesture of frustration. "Neither  do  I.
Until  I  do, you  will do as I ask  and everything will be fine. I will not
harm you."
     "Considering  the circumstances, do you really expect  me to  take your
word?"
     "I'm telling you the truth, Richard. If you were to twist your ankle, I
would, like  a good wife,  put my shoulder  under your arm and  help  you to
walk. From now on, I am devoted to you, and you to me."
     He could only blink at how crazy this was. He almost thought she  might
be  mad.  Almost. He knew  that would be too easy an answer. As  Zedd always
said, nothing was ever easy.
     "And if I choose not to go along with your wishes?"
     Again, she shrugged. "Then Kahlan dies."
     "I understand that, but if she dies, then you lose the collar around my
heart."
     She fixed him with cold blue eyes. "Your point?"
     "Then  you couldn't  get  what you  wanted  from me. You would have  no
leverage."
     "I  don't have what I want now, so I would be losing  nothing. Besides,
if you were to do  that, then Emperor Jagang would  welcome your head  as  a
gift. I would no doubt be showered with gifts and riches."
     Richard didn't think Nicci wanted gifts or riches showered  on her. She
was a Sister of the  Dark, after all, and he supposed she could manage to be
so showered if she really wished it.
     Even so, he was sure his head would have a price, and she could salvage
that much out of it if he proved ungovernable. She might  not care for gifts
and riches, but if there  was one thing she did want, it had to be power. He
was  pretty sure  she could gain a good measure of that, should she slay the
enemy of the Imperial Order.
     He bent over the pot between his legs and went back  to his dinner, and
his  dark  thoughts. Talking to  her  was useless.  They just went around in
circles.
     "Richard," she said in a quiet tone, drawing his eyes to her gaze, "you
think I'm doing this to hurt you, or to defeat you because you are the enemy
of the Order. I am not. I told you my true reasons."
     "So,  when you  finally  find  this  answer you seek, in  return for my
`help,' then you will let me go?" It was not really meant as a question, but
as trenchant incrimination.
     "Go?" She  stared down  into her bowl of rice and sausage,  stirring it
around as if it  might reveal a secret. She looked  up. "No, Richard, then I
will kill you."

     "I see."  He hardly thought that was a way to encourage his cooperation
in  her search,  but he didn't say so.  "And Kahlan'?  After  you kill me, I
mean."
     "You have  my word that if I decide I must kill you, as long as I live,
she will, too. I have no ill will toward her."
     He  tried  to find  solace in that  much  of  it. For  some reason,  he
believed Nicci.  Knowing that Kahlan would be all right gave him courage. He
could endure what was to happen to him, if only  she would be all  right. It
was a price he was willing to pay.
     "So, `wife,' where are we going? Where is it you're taking me?"
     Nicci didn't look  at him  but instead used her bread to sop up some of
her dinner. She considered his question as she nibbled.
     "Who are you fighting, Richard?  Who is  your enemy?"  She took another
small bite of her bread.
     "Jagang. Jagang and his Imperial Order."
     Like an instructor correcting him,  Nicci  slowly shook her head.  "No.
You are wrong. I think perhaps you are in need of answers, too."
     Games.  She was playing  foolish games  with him.  Richard  ground  his
teeth, but held his temper in check.
     "Then who, Nicci? Who, or what, am I fighting if it is not Jagang."
     "That is what  I hope to show  you." She watched  his eyes in  a way he
found unsettling. "I am going to take  you to the Old World, to the heart of
the Order, to show you what you  are  fighting-the taste  nature of what you
believe to be your enemy."
     Richard frowned. "Why'?"
     Nicci smiled. "Let's just say it amuses me."
     "You  mean  we're going back to Tanimura? Back  to  where you lived all
that time as a Sister?"
     "No. We are going to  the heart and soul of the  Old World: Altur'Rang.
Jagang's homeland. The name means, roughly, `the Creator's chosen.' "
     Richard felt a chill run up his spine. "You expect to  take me, Richard
Rahl, there,  into  the heart  of enemy territory? I hardly doubt we will be
living as `husband and wife' for long."
     "Besides not using  your  magic, you will not  use the  name associated
with that magic-Rahl-but instead the name you grew up with: Richard  Cypher.
Without your magic, or  your name, no  one  will know you  are anyone  but a
humble man  with his  wife. That is exactly what you shall be-what  we  both
shall be."
     Richard  sighed. "Well, if the enemy  should find  I'm more, I guess  a
Sister of the Dark can . . . exert her influence."
     "No, I can't."
     Richard's eyes turned up. "What do you mean?"
     "I can't use my power."
     Gooseflesh prickled his arms. "What?"
     "It's  devoted  to the link with Kahlan, to keeping her alive.  That is
how  a maternity  spell works. It  requires a prodigious amount of power  to
even establish such a complex spell, much less maintain it. My power must be
invested  into the labor of preserving the  living link.  A maternity  spell
leaves nothing to spare; l doubt I could make a spark.
     "If we have  any trouble, you will have  to handle it. Of course, I can
at any time

     call upon my ability as a sorceress, but  to do so I would have to draw
the power from our link. If I do that without her near . . . Kahlan dies."
     Alarm raced through him. "But what if you accidentally
     "I won't.  As long as you  take good care  of  me, Kahlan  will be safe
enough.  If, however, I should fall off my horse and break my neck, her neck
snaps, too. As long as you take good care of me, you are taking good care of
her. This is why it's important that we live as husband and wife-so that you
can be close at hand, and so that I  can guide and help you, too. It will be
a difficult life with both of us living without our power, just as any other
married couple, but  1 believe this to  be necessary if I am to find what  I
seek from you. Do you understand?"
     He wasn't sure he really did, but he said "Yes," anyway.
     Numb dismay swamped him.  He would never have believed this woman would
have willingly  given up her power for  some unspecified knowledge. The very
idea of it unleashed cold panic through his veins.
     Richard couldn't make sense of  it. With  his mind groping blindly in a
world gone insane, he spoke without even considering his words.
     "I'm already married. I'll not sleep with you as your husband."
     Nicci blinked in surprise,  then  let  out a dainty titter, covering it
with  the back of her hand, not in  shyness, but at his presumption. Richard
felt his ears heating.
     "That is not the way in which I want you, Richard."
     Richard cleared his throat. "Good."
     In the  quiet of the wayward pine, with  the  rain outside falling in a
gentle  patter  and  the  glowing  checkered  wood  hissing  softly, Nicci's
focused, intense, resolute expression turned very cold and very still.
     "But if I should decide I do, Richard, you will comply with that, too."
     Nicci was a  beautiful woman, the kind  of  woman  most  any man  would
eagerly accept.  It was hardly that,  though, that made  him believe her. It
was the look in her eyes. Never had the vague possibility of the act of  sex
seemed so vicious.
     Her  voice  lost  the  conversational quality. It went on in a lifeless
drone, a  thing not human, pronouncing a sentence on his life. A sentence he
himself would enforce, or Kahlan would die.
     "You  will act as my  husband.  You will provide for us  as any husband
would. You will care for me, and I for you, in the sense of worldly needs. I
will  mend your shirts and cook your meals and  wash your  clothes. You will
provide us with a living."
     Nicci's  leaden words slammed into him  with the deliberate  methodical
force of a beating delivered with an iron bar.
     "You will  never see Kahlan  again-you must understand that-but as long
as you do as I wish, you  will know she lives.  In that way you will be able
to  show your love  for  her. Every  day  she wakes,  she will  know you are
keeping her alive. You have no other way to show her your love."
     He felt sick to his stomach.  He stared off  into  memories of  another
place and time.
     "And if I choose to end it?" The weight of such madness was so crushing
that he earnestly considered it. "Rather than be your slave?"
     "Then perhaps that  is the  form the knowledge I seek  will take. Maybe
that  senseless  end will be what  I  must learn." She brought her first and
second fingers together  in a snipping motion, simulating the cutting of the
umbilical  cord  of  magic  that  sustained Kahlan's  life.  "One  last evil
convulsion to finally confirm the senselessness of existence."

     It dawned on  Richard that this woman could not  be threatened, because
she was  a  creature  who,  he  was  beginning to  understand, welcomed  any
terrible outcome.
     "Of all  there is to me in this world," he whispered in dim agony, more
to  himself and to Kahlan than to his  implacable captor, "there is only one
thing that  is irreplaceable:  Kahlan. If I  must  be  a slave in  order for
Kahlan to live, then I shall be a slave."
     Richard realized  Nicci was silently studying his face. He met her gaze
briefly,  then looked away,  unable  to bear  the  terrible  scrutiny of her
beautiful blue eyes while he held the image of Kahlan's love in his mind.
     "Whatever you  shared with her, whatever happiness,  joy, or  pleasure,
will  always be yours, Richard."  Nicci seemed almost  to  be peering inside
him, reading the  pages  of his past  written  in his mind.  "Treasure those
memories. They will have  to sustain you. You will never  see her again, nor
she you. That chapter of  your life is ended. You both have new  lives, now.
You  may as well  get  used  to  it  because  that  is  the  reality of  the
situation."
     The reality of what was. Not the world as he would wish it. He  himself
had told Kahlan that they must act according to the reality of what was, and
not waste their precious lives wishing for things that could not be.
     Richard ran his fingertips across his forehead as he tried to hold  his
voice steady. "I hope you don't expect me to learn to be pleased with you."
     "I am the one, Richard, who expects to learn."
     Fists  at his side, Richard shot to  his feet. "And what is it you wish
this knowledge for?" he demanded in  unrestrained, violent bitterness.  "Why
is it so important to you!"
     "As punishment."
     Richard stared in stunned disbelief. "What?"
     "I wish to hurt, Richard." She smiled distantly.
     Richard sank back to the ground.
     "Why?" he whispered.
     Nicci  folded  her  hands in her  lap. "Pain,  Richard, is all that can
reach that cold dead thing within me that is my life. Pain is the only thing
for which I live."
     He stared numbly at her. He thought about his vision. There was nothing
he  could do to fight  the advance of the Imperial  Order. He could think of
nothing he could do to fight his fate with this woman.
     If not for Kahlan, he would, at that moment, have thrown himself into a
battle with Nicci that would have decided it once and for all. He would have
willingly gone to his death fighting  this cruel insanity. Except his reason
denied him that.
     He had to live so that Kahlan would live. For that, and that alone,  he
had to put one foot in front of the other and march into oblivion.


        Chapter 27

     Kahlan  yawned as she rubbed her eyes. Squinting, she  arched  her back
and stretched her sore  muscles.  The terrible desperate memories swooped in
from  the sleep-darkened corners of her mind, leaving little chance  for any
other thoughts to long survive.
     She was  beyond the realm  of merciless anguish  and  crying;  she  had
entered the sovereign dominion of unbridled anger.
     Her fingers  found the  cold steel scabbard of his  sword lying at  her
side. It felt alive  with icy  rage. That,  the carving of  Spirit, and  her
memories were about all she had of him.
     There wasn't a lot of firewood, but since they wouldn't be needing much
more anyway, Kahlan put another stick  of what was left into the  fire.  She
squatted, holding her hands close over the top of the feeble  flames, hoping
to bring  feeling to her numb fingers. The wind shifted  a  little.  Pungent
smoke billowed up into her face, making her cough. The smoke rolled past her
face and followed the rock overhang up and out from their shelter.
     Cara was gone, so Kahlan  pushed the  little pot of water back onto the
fire to warn it for tea for when the  Mord-Sith returned. Cara was  probably
visiting  their makeshift privy. Or maybe she was checking  the traps they'd
set the night  before for rabbits. Kahlan didn't hold out any real hope that
they would catch a rabbit for their breakfast. Not in this weather. They had
brought enough provisions, in any event.
     Through slits in the clouds, the crimson  light of  a  cold  crisp dawn
penetrated gaps in the snowcrusted limbs of trees to slant in under the rock
overhang,  casting everything in their  little campsite in a blush glow. The
two of them  had tried without avail to find a  wayward pine.  The screen of
trees, along with a short wall of boughs she and Cara had cut and placed the
night before to protect them from  the wind, as Richard  had taught  them to
do, shielded the secluded spot. With their improvements it  had proven a fit
shelter.  They had  been lucky to find it in  the driving snow. Outside, the
snow was fairly deep, but in the  shelter they had had  a relatively dry, if
cold,  night. Kahlan and Cara had huddled together under  blankets and their
thick wolf fur mantles to keep each other warm.
     Kahlan wondered  where Richard was, and if he was  cold, too. She hoped
not. Probably, since he had started out a few days sooner, he had been lucky
and had made it down to the lowlands already, avoiding the snow.
     Cara  and  Kahlan had stayed  in their home, as he had asked, for three
days. Snow had arrived the morning after he'd left. Kahlan had been  tempted
to wait  for a break in  the weather before  they  started out,  but she had
learned a bitter lesson from Sister

     Nicci: don't wait, act. When Richard didn't return, Kahlan and Cara had
immediately struck out.
     It was hard  going at first. They struggled through the drifts, leading
the horses at times, riding them occasionally. They couldn't see  very  far,
and  most  of  the time had to keep the  wind from the west  at their  right
shoulder  as  their  only clue  as  to  which direction they faced.  It  was
dangerous traveling over  the  passes in such conditions.  For a  time, they
feared  that they had made a  terrible  mistake leaving the safety of  their
house.
     Through  a break in the clouds  just before  dark the night  before, as
they were gathering boughs for their shelter, they'd caught a glimpse of the
lower hills; they were  green  and brown, not white. They would be below the
snow line before long. Kahlan was confident that they were through the worst
of it.
     As she  stuffed an arm into a sleeve, pulling another shirt on over the
top of the two  she was wearing, Kahlan heard  the crunch of snow underfoot.
When she realized it was more than one pair of footsteps, she  stood up in a
rush.
     Cara pushed  her way through the boughs of the  sheltering  trees.  "We
have company," she announced in a  grim  voice. Kahlan saw that Cara's  fist
held her Agiel.
     A bundled up squat woman  came through  the trees,  following in Cara's
footsteps. Under layers of cloaks,  scarves,  and other dangling corners  of
thick cloth, Kahlan was surprised to  recognize Ann, the old Prelate  of the
Sisters of the Light.
     Behind Ann  came  a  taller woman,  her scarves pushed  back to  reveal
graying brown  hair loose to her  shoulders. She  had  an  intense,  steady,
calculating  gaze that  had earned her an enduring  network of fine wrinkles
radiating  out from  the  corners  of her  deep-set eyes. Her  brow was less
steady, twitching  down several times toward her prominent nose.  She looked
like a woman who used a switch to teach children.
     "Kahlan!" Ann rushed forward, seizing Kahlan's arms. "Oh, my dear, it's
so  good to see  you!" She looked back  when Kahlan  glanced up  behind her.
"This is  one  of my  Sisters, Alessandra.  Alessandra,  may I introduce the
Mother Confessorand Richard's wife."
     The woman  stepped  forward  and smiled. The  pleasant  grin completely
altered  her  face,  instantly erasing  the  severity of it  with  open good
nature. It was a  somewhat disorienting transformation, making her seem like
two different people sharing  one  face. Or,  Kahlan  thought,  perhaps  one
person with two faces.
     "Mother Confessor, it's so good to meet  you. Ann has told me all about
you, and what a wonderful  person  you are." Her  eyes took in the  campsite
with a quick glance. "I'm so happy for you and Richard."
     Ann's eyes turned left and right,  searching. Her gaze  snagged on  the
sword.
     "Where's  Richard?  Cara  wouldn't  say  a  word." She  looked up  into
Kahlan's  eyes.  "Dear  Creator,"  she  whispered.  "What's   wrong?  What's
happened? Where's Richard?"
     Kahlan finally managed to unclench her teeth. "One of your Sisters took
him."
     Ann pushed her  scarves  back off  her  gray  hair  and  took  ahold of
Kahlan's  arm again. The  top of Ann's  head came up only to Kahlan's chest,
but she looked at least twice as wide.
     "What are you talking about? What do you mean, a Sister took him? Which
Sister?"
     "Nicci," Kahlan growled.
     Ann pulled back. "Nicci . . ."

     Sister Alessandra gasped. "Sister  Nicci?"  She crossed both hands over
her heart. "Sister Nicci isn't one of Ann's. Nicci is a Sister of the Dark."
     "Oh, I'm well aware of that," Kahlan said.
     "We  have to go  get him back,"  Ann said. "At once. He's not safe with
her."
     "There's  no  telling  what  Nicci  might-" Sister  Alessandra's  mouth
snapped shut.
     The wind carried a sparkling gust into their faces, momentarily whiting
out the red dawn. Kahlan blinked  the  snow  away.  Cara, in her red leather
with both a cloak and her heavy fur mantle  over top, ignored it.  The other
two women brushed their heavy woolen mittens across their eyes.
     "Kahlan, everything will be all right," Ann said in a reassuring voice.
"Tell us, now, what's happened? Tell us everything. Is he hurt?"
     Kahlan swallowed against her rising rage. "Nicci used what she called a
maternity spell on me."
     Ann's mouth fell open. Sister Alessandra gasped again.
     "Are  you  sure?" Ann asked in a  careful tone. "Are you  sure that was
what it was? How do you know for sure?"
     "She slammed  some kind  of magic into me. I've never heard  of such  a
spell. All I know is that it was definitely powerful magic and  she said  it
was called a maternity spell. She said that it connects us, somehow, through
that magic."
     Alessandra took a  step forward.  "That  doesn't  make  it a  maternity
spell."
     "When Cara used  her Agiel on Nicci," Kahlan said, "it dropped me to my
knees just the same as if Cara had used the Agiel on me."
     Ann and Alessandra shared a silent look.
     "But . . . but, if she were to . . ." Ann stammered.
     Kahlan voiced  what  Ann was  trying  to say without saying it. "If she
were to desire it,  Nicci  could snip that cord of magic,  and  1 would die.
That was the means by which she captured Richard. She promised I would  live
if Richard  went with her. Richard surrendered himself into slavery to  save
my life."
     "It can't be," Ann  said, touching mitten-covered fingers  to her chin.
"Nicci  wouldn't  know how to  use  such  an unusual spell-she's  too young.
Besides,  such a  rare spell  requires  great  power.  She  must  have  done
something else and just said  that it was a  maternity spell. Nicci couldn't
do a maternity spell."
     "Yes,  she could,"  Sister Alessandra  said in  reluctant disagreement.
"She has the power and ability. It would only have required someone with the
specialized knowledge teaching her. Nicci doesn't have any great passion for
magic, but she is as able as they come."
     "Lidmila . .  ." Ann  whispered to  Alessandra  in  sudden realization.
"Jagang has Lidmila. "
     Kahlan  turned a suspicious glare on Sister Alessandra. "And how do you
know so much more about Nicci's ability than the Prelate herself?"
     Sister Alessandra gathered her open cloak  back together. Her face lost
its warmth and reverted to a scowl-this time, though, with bitterness in the
set of her mouth.
     "I brought  Nicci in to the  Palace of the  Prophets when she was but a
child. I was responsible  for her upbringing, and  I  guided her training in
the use of her gift; I know her better than anyone. I know her darker powers
because I, too, was a Sister of the Dark. I'm the one who brought her to the
Keeper."
     Kahlan  could  feel herself  rocking with the  force  of her  hammering
heart. "So, you, too, are a Sister of the Dark."

     "Was," Ann said, lifting a cautionary hand before Kahlan.
     "The Prelate came into Jagang's  camp  and  rescued  me. Not just  from
Jagang,  but  from  the Keeper,  too.  I  once  again serve the Light."  The
incandescent smile again transformed Alessandra's face. "Ann brought me back
to the Creator."
     As far  as Kahlan was concerned, the claim  was not worth the effort of
confirmation. "How did you find us?"
     Ann  ignored the terse question. "We must  hurry. We  must get  Richard
away from Nicci before she delivers him to Jagang."
     Kahlan kept her glare on Alessandra while she answered  Ann. "She isn't
taking him to Jagang. She said she isn't acting on behalf of His Excellency,
but  on behalf of herself. Those were her words.  She  said she had  removed
Jagang's ring from her lip and that she wasn't afraid of him."
     "Did she say why, then, she  was taking  Richard?" Ann  asked. "Or,  at
least, where?"
     Kahlan moved her scrutiny back  to  Ann.  "She said  she was taking him
into oblivion."
     "Oblivion!" Ann gasped.
     "I  asked you a question,"  Kahlan said,  anger seeping into her voice.
"How did you find us?"
     Ann  tapped her waist. "I have a journey book. I used it to communicate
with Verna, back with our  forces. Verna told me about the messengers coming
to see you. That's how 1 knew where to find  you. Lucky  I came as soon as I
did; we nearly missed you. I can't tell you  how happy I am to  see you have
recovered, Kahlan. We were so worried."
     Kahlan  saw that Cara,  standing  behind  the two  women, still had her
Agiel clenched in her fist. Kahlan  didn't need  an  Agiel; her  Confessor's
power boiled but an impulse away. She wouldn't again  make an error for  the
sake of caution.
     "The  journey book. Of course. Then  Verna would  have  told  you about
Richard's vision that he must not lead our troops against the Order."
     Ann nodded reluctantly, apparently not eager to discuss  such a vision.
"Then,  a few days  ago, Verna sent a message when we were almost here, that
the D'Harans are  in quite a state because they suddenly lost their sense of
direction to  Richard.  She said they  are still  protected  from  the dream
walker by the bond to their Lord Rahl, but they suddenly lost their sense of
where he is."
     "Nicci cloaked his bond from us," Cara said in a growl.
     "Well, we have to  find him," Ann  said.  "We have to get him away from
Nicci. He's our only chance. Whatever he's  thinking, it's nonsense  and  we
will have  to  set him straight, but first we must get him back. He  has  to
lead  our  forces against  the  Imperial Order.  He  is  the  one  named  in
prophecy."
     "That's why you're here," Kahlan whispered to herself. "You heard  from
Verna about  his declining  to lead  the army or  even  to give  orders. You
journeyed here in hopes of forcing him to fight."
     "He must," Ann insisted.
     "He must not," Kahlan said. "He has come to realize that if he leads us
into battle, we  will lose the cause of  liberty for generations to come. He
said he came to realize that people  don't yet understand freedom  and won't
fight for it."
     "He must simply prove himself to the people." Ann's scowl reddened. "He
must prove himself their leader, which he  has already begun to do, and they
will follow him."

     "Richard says that he has come to understand that it is not he who must
prove himself to the people, but the people who must now prove themselves to
him."
     Ann blinked in astonishment. "Why, that's nonsense."
     "Is it?"
     "Of  course it is. The boy was  named in  prophecy centuries ago.  I've
been waiting hundreds of years for him to  be  born in order for him to lead
us in this struggle."
     "Really. Then who are  you to try to countermand  Richard's decision-if
you are so set  on following him? He has come to his decision.  If he is the
leader  you  want,  then  you must  abide by  his lead,  and  therefore  his
decision."
     "But this is not what prophecy demands!"
     "Richard  doesn't  believe in  prophecy. He  believes we  make  our own
destiny.  I'm coming to see the grounds of his assertion that the belief  in
prophecy artificially alters events. It is the misplaced faith  in  prophecy
itself-in some mystical outcome-that harms people's lives."
     Ann's eyes grew round with dismay, and then narrowed. "Richard  is  the
one  named  in  prophecy to lead us  against  the Imperial Order. This  is a
struggle for the very existence of magic in this world-don't  you understand
that! Richard was born to fight this fight. We have to get him back!"
     "This is all your fault," Kahlan whispered.
     "What?" Ann's frown changed to a tolerant  smile. "Kahlan, what are you
talking about?"  Her voice  backslid  to genial. "You  know me, you know our
struggle for the survival of freedom of magic. If Richard does not lead  us,
we have no chance."
     Kahlan threw her arm out and seized a startled Sister Alessandra by the
throat. The woman's eyes went wide.
     "Don't  move," Kahlan said through gritted teeth, "or I will unleash my
Confessor's power."
     Ann held her hands up, imploring. "Kahlan, have you lost your mind? Let
her be. Calm down."
     With  her  other  hand, Kahlan  pointed down at the fire. "The  journey
book. Throw it in the fire."
     "What? I'm not going to do any such thing!"
     "Now,"  Kahlan said through  her clenched teeth. "Or Sister  Alessandra
will  be mine. When  I  finish  with her, Cara will see to it you throw that
journey book in the fire, if you have to do so with broken fingers."
     Ann glanced at the Mord-Sith towering over her shoulder.
     "Kahlan, I know you're upset, and I completely understand, but we're on
the same  side in this. We love Richard,  too.  We,  too, wish to  stop  the
Imperial Order from taking the whole world. We-"
     "We? If it wasn't  for  you  and your Sisters, none  of  this would  be
happening.  This is  all your fault.  Not Jagang's  fault,  not the Imperial
Order's fault, but yours."
     "Have you lost your-"
     "You alone bear responsibility for what is befalling the world. Just as
Jagang  has his ring through the lip of his slaves, you've had yours through
the nose  of yours-Richard!  You  alone  bear  responsibility for the  lives
already lost, and those yet  to be lost in bloody slaughters that will sweep
across the land. You, not Jagang, are the one who has brought it!"
     Despite the cold, beads  of sweat  dotted Ann's brow. "What in the name
of Creation  are  you  talking about?  Kahlan,  you know  me. I  was at your
wedding.  I have  always  been  on your  side.  I  have  only  followed  the
prophecies to help people."

     "You create the prophecies! Without your  help they would not have come
to pass!  They only come about because you have fulfilled them! You pull the
ring through Richard's nose!"
     Ann presented a face of calm to the stone of Kahlan's rage.
     "Kahlan,  I  can only imagine how you must feel,  but now you are truly
losing all sense of reason."
     "Am I? Am I, Prelate? Why does Sister Nicci have my husband? Answer me.
Why! +