ng  such  business  well, had brought  along greased wooden
runners,  which were placed  before the  hefty wooden rails  supporting  the
wooden  platform under  the statue so that  the teams  of  horses could more
easily pull the heavy load across the ground. After  the statue was  dragged
onto the second set of greased runners, the men brought the ones left behind
to the front, leapfrogging the statue as it was moved along.
     The hillside  was white with  the  scree  of waste stone, so the statue
weighed considerably  less  than  it once had.  Victor had  originally hired
special stone-hauling wagons to  move the  block. They couldn't use them now
because the finished piece couldn't be turned on its side or handled in such
a rough manner.
     Ishaq waved  his  red hat in  his fist,  yelling  orders, warnings, and
prayers as they had moved along. Richard knew that his statue could be in no
better hands. The  men who helped seemed to pick up Ishaq's nervous tension.
They  sensed  this  was  something  important,  and,  though  the  work  was
difficult, they seemed more pleased to be a part  of it than they were about
their everyday labor  at  the site. It took until late afternoon to move the
statue the distance from the shop to the foot of the steps leading up to the
plaza.
     Men shoveled  dirt at  the bottom of  the stairs and packed it tight in
order to ease the transition in grade. A team of ten horses was taken around
the other side of the columns. Long  lengths of rope were passed through the
vacant doorways and windows, and then secured around the stone base in order
to  draw the sledge up the steps. The extra runners were laid on the leading
edge of the  dirt ramp, later to be moved up  onto  the steps as  the statue
progressed  upward. Near  to two  hundred men swooped in at  Ishaq's frantic
screaming to help pull on the ropes along with the horses. Inch by inch, the
statue ascended the steps.
     Richard could  hardly stand to watch. If anything went  wrong,  all his
work would tumble back and shatter. The flaw would destroy it all. He smiled
to himself, realizing  how silly  it was  to worry that  the evidence of his
crime against the Order might be ruined.
     When the  stone had  finally arrived safely up  on the plaza,  sand was
packed underneath the  platform to support its weight. With the sand holding
the wooden platform secure, the heavy runners were removed. With the runners
off,  the platform  was slid  off  its hill of  sand.  From there, it  was a
relatively simple task to coax the statue off

     the wooden  base  and onto the plaza  itself. At  last,  marble  sat on
marble.  Gangs  of  men with  ropes around the stone base  tugged the  freed
statue into its final resting place at the center point of the plaza.
     Ishaq stood beside Richard when it was over, mopping his brow with  his
red hat.  The  entire statue and sundial  was  shrouded in  its white  linen
cover,  with line securing it,  so Ishaq couldn't see what it was. Still, he
sensed something of importance stood before him.
     "When?" was all Ishaq asked.
     Richard  knew what he meant. "I guess I'm not sure. Brother Narev is to
dedicate the palace to the  Creator tomorrow,  before all the  officials who
have  traveled  to see how the money they've looted from the people is being
spent. I guess that tomorrow the officials, along with everyone who comes to
the ceremony, are to see the  statue along with the rest of the palace. It's
just another display  of the Order's  view of man's place-I don't think they
intend any unveiling or anything like that."
     From  what  Richard had  learned,  the ceremony was a matter  of  great
concern to the brothers. The drain of the  expense  of the palace on top  of
the expense  of the war required justification to the people who were paying
that price not only with  their sweat, but  with their blood. The Fellowship
of Order ruled, through the Imperial Order, with the necessary collaboration
of brutes  to whom they  gave  moral sanction.  While  the brutes had easily
crushed the bodies of those who had  revolted, the brothers wanted to  crush
the ideas such revolt represented, before they could spread,  because it was
such ideas that were the greatest threat to them.
     To that  end,  it  was also  important to inspire  the  officials:  the
minions  of the Order's tyranny.  Richard imagined that with scenes of man's
depravity  carved  into  thousands  of  feet  of  stone  wall,  the flock of
far-flung officials of the Order were going to be given guided tours, by the
brothers,  of all  mankind's failings, and thus coerced  into their  duty of
turning  over money they had already confiscated at the  point  of a blade-a
blade they wielded  under  the  moral sanction  of  the brothers through the
Fellowship  of Order. Such petty  officials were allowed  a  slice for their
service  to the  Order,  but  the  brothers  no doubt wanted  to  forcefully
dissuade them from any grander notions.
     Under the direction of the  brothers, the collective of the Order, like
any autocratic ruler, ultimately ruled only by the acquiesce of the  people,
who were controlled either  by moral intimidation, or by physical threat, or
by both.  Tyranny required  constant tending, lest the illusion of righteous
authority  evaporate in  the light of  its  grim  toll,  and  the brutes  be
overpowered by the people who greatly outnumbered them.
     That was why Richard had known he couldn't lead: he could  not bludgeon
people into understanding that bludgeoning was  wrong  because  their  lives
were of  great  value, whereas the  Order  could have  them  bludgeoned into
obedience by first making people believe that their lives  were of no value.
Free people were  not  ruled.  Freedom had  first  to  be valued before  its
existence could be demanded.
     "From what I'm told, it is to be a big event," Ishaq said. "People from
all over are coming to the  dedication of the  emperor's palace. The city is
full of people from far and near."
     Richard  looked around at the site as the workers trudged back to their
regular jobs.
     "I'm surprised none of  the officials have come to have a  look at  the
palace in advance."

     Ishaq waved his hat dismissively. "They are all at the gathering of the
Fellowship of Order.  In the center of Altur'Rang. Big  doings. Food, drink,
speeches by  the  brothers. You know  how  the  Order  likes meetings.  Very
boring,  I imagine.  From what I know of such  events, the officials will be
kept busy hearing of the needs of the Order and  their duty to get people to
sacrifice to that need. The brothers will keep them all under tight rein."
     That meant the brothers would all be  busy-too busy to come  out to the
site  for the trivial  task of  checking  a  statue one of their  slaves had
carved. In the scheme of  things, Richard's statue was insignificant. It was
only the starting point of the stately tour of the miles of walls displaying
extensive scenes  depicting the grand cause of the Order, as dictated by the
brothers, under Narev's leadership.
     If the  officials  and the brothers  were too busy to come  today,  the
people  of  the  city were not. Most would probably attend the events of the
next day, but they wanted to get a sense of the place for themselves, first,
without the  boring  speeches  that would  drag  out the  ceremony.  Richard
watched many of those people  go  from  one  scene on the  walls to another,
their faces stricken with the desolate emotion of what they were seeing.
     Guards kept  people at a respectful distance,  and out of the labyrinth
of rooms and hallways  inside,  now enclosed  by  upper  floors, and in some
places,  roofs. Now that the statue  was set in place, those guards moved in
to clear the plaza entrance.
     Richard had only gotten a few hours of sleep in the last week. Now that
the statue  was in place, exhaustion overwhelmed him.  With all the  work on
top of so little sleep, and little to eat, he was almost ready to drop where
he stood.
     Victor appeared out of the long shadows. Some workers were leaving, but
others would still  be at it  for  several more  hours. Richard  hadn't even
realized  that it had taken the better part of  the day to  move the statue.
With the heat of the work over, his sweat-soaked shirt felt like ice against
his flesh.
     "Here,"  Victor  said,  handing  Richard a  slice  of  lardo.  "Eat. In
celebration that you are done."
     Richard thanked his friend  before devouring  the  lardo.  His head was
pounding.  He  had done all he could  do to  show people what they needed to
see.  With the work done,  though, Richard felt suddenly  lost.  He realized
only then how much he hated having  finished, to be without the noble  work.
It had been his reason to go on.
     "Ishaq, I'm dead on  my feet. Do you think you  could give me a ride in
your wagon partway to my house?"
     Ishaq clapped Richard on the back. "Come, you can ride in the back. I'm
sure Jori would not mind. At least he can save you part of your walk. I must
stay here and see to the teams and wagons."
     Richard thanked the smiling Victor. "In the morning, my friends, in the
full  light,  we will remove the cover  and see beauty one last  time. After
that . . . well, who knows."
     "Tomorrow, then," Victor said with his sly laugh. "I don't think I will
sleep tonight," he called after Richard.
     The  months  of  effort seemed to  all come down upon him at  once.  He
climbed  into the back of  Ishaq's wagon and bid  the man  a good night.  As
Ishaq left,  Richard curled up  under a tarp to  shut  out the light and was
asleep before  Jori returned. He  was dead to the world  as the wagon rolled
away.

     Nicci watched  as Richard departed with Ishaq. She wanted to do this on
her own. She wanted it to be her part. She wanted to contribute something of
value.
     Only then could she face him.
     She knew precisely how the Order would react to the statue.  They would
view it as a threat. They would not allow other people to see  it. The Order
would destroy it. It would be gone. No one would ever know about it.
     Twining  her fingers together,  she wondered how to proceed-what should
be first.  Then it came to  her. She  had gone to him before.  He had helped
Richard. He was Richard's friend. Nicci rushed across the  sprawling site of
the palace and up the hill.
     She was winded by the time she reached the  blacksmith's shop. The grim
blacksmith was putting away tools. He had  already banked  the fire  in  his
forge. The  smells, the sights, even the layer  of iron dust  and soot  gave
Nicci  a  joyful flash  of her father's shop. She  understood, now, the look
that had been in  her father's eyes. She doubted he  had fully understood it
himself, but she  did,  now. The blacksmith looked up without smiling as she
rushed into his shop.
     "Mr. Cascella! I need you."
     His frown grew. "What's that matter? Why are you crying? Is it Richard?
Have they-"
     "No. Nothing  like that." She grabbed his meaty hand and tugged at him.
It was like tugging on a boulder. "Please. Come with me. It's important."
     He gestured with his other hand  around at his  shop.  "But I  have  to
clean up for the night."
     She yanked  again  on  his  hand.  She  felt  tears stinging  her eyes.
"Please! This is important!"
     He wiped his free hand down his face. "Lead the way, then."
     Nicci felt a little foolish pulling  the burly blacksmith along by  the
hand as  she raced  down the hill. He asked where they were going,  but  she
didn't answer. She wanted to get down there before the light was gone.
     When  they reached  the plaza, guards were patrolling up at  the top of
the steps, keeping everyone off the  plaza.  Nicci saw Ishaq nearby, loading
long planks in a  wagon. She called to him, and,  seeing the blacksmith with
her, he ran over.
     "Nicci! What is it? You look a frightful-"
     "I have to show you both the statue. Now."
     Victor's scowl grew. "It will be unveiled tomorrow when Richard-"
     "No! You must see it now."
     They both fell silent. Ishaq leaned close as he gestured covertly.
     "We can't go up there. It's guarded."
     "I  can." Nicci  angrily wiped the tears  from  her cheeks.  Her  voice
regained the  quality of grave authority she had wielded so often, that dark
intonation that had passed judgment on  countless lives, and sent  people to
their death. "Wait here."
     Both men pulled back at the menace in her eyes.
     Nicci  straightened her back. She lifted her  chin. She was a Sister of
the Dark.
     She ascended the steps in a measured pace, as if  the palace were hers.
It was. She was the Slave Queen. These men were hers to command.
     She was Death's Mistress.
     The guards approached her warily, sensing that the woman in black was a
threat. Before they could speak, she spoke first.
     "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

     "What are we  doing here?" one  asked.  "We're guarding  the  emperor's
palace, that's what we're doing-"
     "How dare you talk back to me. Do you know who I am?"
     "Well . . . I don't think I-"
     "Death's Mistress. Perhaps you have heard of me?"
     All dozen men straightened. She  saw their eyes take in the black dress
again, then her  long blond  hair, her  blue eyes. By their reaction to what
they saw, it was obvious to Nicci that her reputation  preceded her.  Before
they could say another word, she spoke again.
     "And what do you suppose Emperor Jagang's consort is doing here? Do you
suppose I came without my master? Of course not, you idiots!"
     "The emperor. . ." several mumbled together in shock.
     "That's right, the emperor is arriving for the dedication  tomorrow.  I
have  come  to make my own examination, first, and what do  I find?  Idiots!
Here you stand, with your thumbs in your ears,  while you should be standing
to greet His Excellency as he arrives into the city mere hours from now."
     The guards' eyes widened. "But . . . no one told us. Where is he coming
in? We haven't been informed-"
     "Arid  do  you  suppose  a  man  as  important  as  Jagang  wishes  his
whereabouts to be known  for any  assassin in the  neighborhood to find him?
And if there are assassins about, here you fools stand!"
     All the men bowed urgently.
     "Where?" the sergeant asked. "Where is His Excellency arriving?"
     "He's arriving from the north."
     The man licked his lips.  "But, but,  which road from  the north? There
are any number of routes-"
     Nicci planted her  fists on her hips. "Do you suppose His Excellency is
going to announce his route beforehand? And to the likes of you? If only one
road was guarded, then any assassin would know where to expect  the emperor,
now wouldn't they?  All  the roads are to  be  guarded! And here  you stand,
instead!"
     The men  bobbed and bowed nervously, wanting to leave to do their duty,
but not knowing where to go.
     Nicci gritted her  teeth and leaned toward the sergeant. "Get  your men
out to one of the north roads.  Now.  That is you duty. All the roads are to
be guarded. Pick one!"
     The men bowed repeatedly as they sidestepped away. After scurrying only
a few feet, they broke  into  a dead run. She  watched  them  collect  other
guards as they went.
     As  they vanished out of the plaza, Nicci turned  to  the two  startled
men. They climbed the  stairs, now  unhindered by guards. Some of the people
treading  the cobblestone  paths, come to look at the carvings on the walls,
had heard yelling and turned to watch  what  she  was doing. Women on  their
knees,  praying  up  at the carvings in stone of the Light  shining  down on
depraved people, looked over their shoulders.
     As  Victor  and Ishaq  reached  the  top of the plaza, Nicci untied the
line, grabbed the linen in her fists, and ripped the shroud off the statue.
     Both men stopped in their tracks.
     In  a  half  circle around the plaza,  the walls were covered  with the
story of man's inadequacy. All  around them, man was shown small,  depraved,
deformed, impotent,

     terrified, cruel, mindless, wicked, greedy, corrupt, and sinful. He was
depicted forever torn between otherworldly forces  controlling every  aspect
of  his miserable existence, an existence incomprehensible in its caldron of
churning evil, with death his only escape into salvation.
     Those who had  found virtue in this  world, under the protection of the
Creator's  Light,  looked  lifeless, their  faces without  emotion,  without
awareness,  their bodies  as unbending as cadavers.  They stared out  at the
world through a vacant, mindless stupor,  while all around them danced rats,
through their legs wriggled snakes, and over their heads flew vultures.
     In  the vortex of  this torrent of tortured  life,  this  cataclysm  of
corruption, this depravity and debauchery, rose up Richard's statue in bold,
glowing opposition.
     It was a devastating indictment of all around it.
     The mass and weight of the ugliness surrounding Richard's statue seemed
to shrink back into insignificance. The evil of the wall carvings seemed now
to be crying out at their own dishonesty in the face of incorruptible beauty
and truth.
     The  two figures in the center posed in a  state of harmonious balance.
The man's  body displayed a proud masculinity. Though the woman was clothed,
there was  no doubt as to her femininity. They both  reflected a love of the
human form as sensuous, noble, and pure. The evil all around seemed as if it
was recoiling in terror of that noble purity.
     More than that, though, Richard's statue  existed without conflict; the
figures showed awareness, rationality, and purpose. This was a manifestation
of human power, ability, intent. This was life lived for its own  sake. This
was mankind standing proudly of his own free will.
     This was exactly what the single word at the bottom named it:
     LIFE
     That it existed was proof of the validity of the concept.
     This was life as  it should be lived-proud, reasoned, and a slave to no
other man. This was the rightful exaltation of  the individual, the nobility
of the human spirit.
     Everything on the walls all around offered death as its answer.
     This offered life.
     Victor and Ishaq were on their knees, weeping.
     The blacksmith  lifted  his arms  up  toward  the  statue  before  him,
laughing as tears ran down his face.
     "He did it. He has done as he said he would. Flesh  in stone. Nobility.
Beauty."
     People  who had come to see the other carvings, now  began gathering to
see what  stood in the center of the plaza. They stared with wide eyes, many
seeing for the first time the concept of man as virtuous  in his own  right.
The statement was so powerful that it alone invalidated everything up on the
walls. That it had been carved by man underscored its veracity.
     Many of them saw it with the same understanding Nicci had.
     The carvers wandered away from their work to come see what stood in the
plaza. The masons came down from the scaffolding. The tenders set down their
mortar  buckets.  The carpenters  climbed  down from  their  work at setting
beams. The tilers  laid  aside  their chisels. The  drivers  picketed  their
horses.  Men digging  and  planting the surrounding  grounds set down  their
shovels. They came from all directions toward the statue in the plaza.
     People flowed up the steps in ever expanding ranks. They flooded around
the  statue, gazing in awe.  Many fell to their knees weeping, not in misery
as they had

     before, but with joy. Many,  like the blacksmith,  laughed, as tears of
delight ran down their happy faces. A few covered their eyes in fear.
     As people took  it in, they began to  run off to get others. Soon,  men
were coming down from the shops on  the hill to see what stood in the plaza.
Men and women who had come to watch the construction now ran off home to get
loved ones, to bring them to see what stood at the emperor's palace.
     It was something  the  like of which most of these  people had never in
their lives seen.
     It was vision to the blind.
     It was water to the thirsty.
     It was life to the dying.


        CHAPTER 66

     Kahlan pulled her map out and took a  quick look.  It  was hard to tell
for  sure.  She  glanced  up and down  the  road and  noted  that  the other
buildings were not quite as well kept.
     "What do you think?" Cara asked in a low voice.
     Kahlan slipped the map back inside her mantle.  She snugged  the fur up
over her shoulders  a little, making sure it  covered the hilt  of Richard's
sword she wore strapped behind her shoulder. Her own sword was hidden  under
her cloak. At least the sun had just gone down.
     "I don't know. We don't have much light left.  I guess there's only one
way to be sure."
     Cara  eyed the people who looked their way. For the most part, everyone
in the city seemed  remarkably incurious. With their horses stabled  outside
of the city, there would not be any swift escape if they needed to get away.
The general indifference of people, though, somewhat eased Kahlan's concern.
     They had  decided to simply be as aloof and casual as possible. She had
thought they looked pretty simple in their traveling clothes, but in a place
as drab as Altur'Rang, the two of them had a hard time  being inconspicuous.
In retrospect,  she  wished they would have had the time  to find  something
shabby to wear. Kahlan felt they  were about as inconspicuous as  a pair  of
painted whores at a country farm fair.
     She climbed the stairs to the place  as if she knew where she was going
and  belonged  there.  Inside, the hallway was clean.  It had  the smell  of
freshly scrubbed wood  floors.  With  Cara close at her  heels, Kahlan moved
down to the first door on the right. She could see the stairway farther down
the hall. If this was the correct building, this would be the proper door.
     Looking both  ways, Kahlan  gently rapped on the door. No  answer came.
She knocked again,  a little louder.  She tried the knob, but it was locked.
After checking the hall again, she pulled a knife from  her  belt and worked
it under  the molding,  springing  it  out  until the door  popped open. She
grabbed Cara's sleeve and pulled the woman in with her.
     Inside, they both struck a pose  prepared to fight. There was no one in
the room. In the light  coming in  from two windows,  Kahlan saw  first that
there were two sleeping pallets. What she saw next was Richard's pack.
     Kneeling on the floor in the far  corner, she flipped back the flap and
saw his  things  inside-his war  wizard's clothes  were in  the bottom. Near
tears, she clutched the pack to her chest.
     It had been over  a year since she  had seen him. For  almost half  the
time she had known him,  he had been gone from her. It seemed  she could not
endure another moment.

     Kahlan heard a sudden noise. Cara seized the wrist of a young man as he
charged in brandishing a knife. In one fluid motion she had his arm  twisted
behind his back.
     Kahlan thrust her hand into the air. "Cara! No."
     Cara  made  a sour face as she  lowered her Agiel  from the young man's
throat. His eyes were wide with both fear, and indignation.
     "Thieves! You're thieves! That's not yours! Put it back!"
     Kahlan rushed to the youth, motioning for him to keep his voice down.
     "Is your name Kamil, or Nabbi?"
     The young  man  blinked in surprise. He  licked  his lips as he glanced
over his shoulder at the woman towering above him.
     "I'm Kamil. Who are you? How do you know my name?"
     "I'm a friend. Gadi told me-"
     "Then you're no friend!"
     Before he could scream for help, Cara clamped a hand over his mouth.
     Kahlan shushed him. "Gadi murdered  a friend of ours. After we captured
him, Gadi told me your name."
     When she saw that  he  was taken aback by the news, Kahlan signaled for
Cara to lower her hand.
     "Gadi killed someone?"
     "That's right," Cara said.
     He stole a  quick glance over his shoulder. "What did you do to him? To
Gadi?" "We put him to death," Kahlan  said, not revealing the full extent of
the deed.
     The young  man smiled.  "Then  you  really are friends.  Gadi  is a bad
person. He hurt my friend. I hope he suffered."
     "It took him a long time to die," Cara said.
     The young  man swallowed when  he saw her  grin from over his shoulder.
Kahlan gestured and Cara released him.
     "So, who are you two?" he asked.
     "My name is Kahlan, and this is Cara."
     "So, what are you doing here?"
     "That's a little complicated, but we're looking for Richard."
     His suspicion returned. "Yeah?"
     Kahlan smiled.  He was indeed Richard's friend. She put her hand to the
side of his shoulder as she held his gaze.
     "I'm his wife. His real wife."
     Kamil blinked dumbly. "But, but-,,
     Kahlan's voice hardened. "Nicci isn't his wife." -
     His eyes brimmed with tears as a grin overcame him. "I knew it. I  knew
he didn't love  her. I could never understand how Richard could have married
her."
     Kamil  suddenly threw his  arms around Kahlan, hugging her  with fierce
happiness for Richard. Kahlan laughed softly as she smoothed the young man's
hair.  Cara  seized his  collar  and  pulled him back, but at  least  did it
gently.
     "And you?" Kamil asked Cara.
     "I am Mord-"
     "Cara is Richard's good friend."
     Kamil unexpectedly hugged Cara, then. Kahlan feared the Mord-Sith might
crush his skull, but she endured it  politely,  even if she was ill at ease.
Kahlan thought Cara might even have started to smile.
     Kamil  turned back  to Kahlan. "But what is Richard  doing with  Nicci,
then?"

     Kahlan took a deep breath. "It's a long story."
     "Tell me."
     Kahlan appraised his  dark eyes  for a  moment.  She liked what she saw
there. Still, she thought it best to keep it simple.
     "Nicci is a sorceress. She used magic to force Richard to go with her."
     "Magic? What magic?" he pressed without pause.
     Kahlan took another breath. "She could have  used her magic to hurt me,
kill me, if Richard didn't agree to go with her."
     Kamil gazed skyward as  he  thought it over.  He finally  nodded. "That
makes sense. That's the kind of  man Richard is-he would do anything to save
the woman he loved. I knew he didn't love Nicci."
     "And how did you know that?"
     Kamil gestured at the  two pallets. "He didn't sleep with her. I bet he
slept with you, when you were together."
     Kahlan could feel her  face  flushing at his boldness. "How do you know
that?"
     "I  don't know." He scratched his head. "You just look  like you belong
with him. When you say his name I can see how you care for him."
     Kahlan  couldn't help  but smile through her weariness.  They  had been
riding at a breakneck pace for weeks. They had  lost a few  horses along the
way, and had to acquire others. They had gone with little sleep for the last
week. She had trouble even thinking straight.
     "So, do you know where Richard is, now?" Kahlan asked.
     "At work, I'm  sure.  He usually  comes home about now-unless he has to
work at night, too."
     Kahlan briefly scanned the room. "What about Nicci?"
     "I  don't know. She  may have gone  to buy bread  or something. It's  a
little  funny-she's  usually home  long  before now.  She almost always  has
dinner ready for Richard."
     Kahlan's gaze drifted through the darkening room, from table, to basin,
to  cupboard. She would hate  to  leave,  only to have him  show up a minute
after  she left.  Kamil thought it was odd that Nicci wasn't home. That they
were both gone was troubling.
     "Where does he work?" Kahlan asked.
     "At the site."
     "Site? What site?"
     Kamil  gestured  into the  distance.  "Out at the emperor's new  palace
they're building. Tomorrow's the big dedication."
     "The new palace is done?"
     "Oh,  no.  It's years and  years from  being  done.  It's only started,
really.  But they are going to dedicate it to the  Creator,  now.  A lot  of
people have come to Altur'Rang for the ceremony."
     "Richard is a laborer helping build the palace?"
     Kamil nodded. "He's a  carver. At least, he is now. He used  to work at
Ishaq's transport company, but then he got arrested-"
     Kahlan seized him by the shirt. "He was  arrested? They  . . . tortured
him?"
     Kamil's eyes turned away from her frantic expression.
     "I gave Nicci my money so she could  get in  to see him.  She and Ishaq
and Victor the blacksmith got him  out. He was hurt bad. When he got better,
the officials made him take a job carving."

     Kamil's words spun through  her head. The ones that  floated above  all
the rest were that Richard had recovered.
     "He carves statues, now?"
     Kamil nodded again. "He carves people in stone to decorate the walls of
the palace. He helps me with my own carvings. I can show you, out back."
     Wonder of wonders. Richard carving. But all  the carvings they had seen
in the  Old World  were  grotesque.  Richard  would  not  like to carve such
ugliness. Obviously, he had no choice.
     "Maybe  later."  Kahlan  rubbed  her  fingers  across  her brow  as she
considered  what  to do. "Can you  take  me there,  now? To  the site  where
Richard works?"
     "Yes, if you'd like.  But don't you want  to  wait  to see if he  comes
home, first? He may be home soon."
     "You said he works at night, sometimes."
     "For  the last few months,  he worked at night a lot. He's carving some
special  statue  for  them."  Kamil's face brightened.  "He  told  me to  go
tomorrow  to see  it. With  the dedication tomorrow, it may  be  he's  still
finishing it.  I've  never  seen where he works, but Victor, the blacksmith,
may know."
     "We should go see this blacksmith, then."
     Kamil  scratched   his  head  again  as   his  expression   turned   to
disappointment. "But the blacksmith will be gone for the night."
     "Is there anyone else out there, now?"
     "There  may be  a lot  of people there.  Crowds go out there to see the
place-I've gone out  there myselfand tonight  there may be more  than usual,
because of tomorrow's ceremony."
     That might be just what they needed. They wouldn't look so out of place
searching the area for Richard if there were crowds out there. It would give
them an excuse to look around.
     "We'll give  him  an hour," Kahlan said. "If he doesn't return by then,
then it's most likely because he's working. If  he  doesn't come back, we'll
have to go out there and look for him."
     "What if Nicci shows up?" Cara asked.
     Kamil  waved his hand to  dismiss their concern.  "I'll  go out on  the
front steps and watch for Nicci. You two can wait in here, where no one will
see you.  I'll  come warn  you if I  see Nicci coming up the  street.  I can
always take you out the back way if I see her returning home."
     Kahlan laid a hand over his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
     "That sounds good to me, Kamil. We'll wait in here." Kamil  hurried out
to his guard post. Kahlan glanced around the tidy room.
     "Why don't you get some sleep," Cara said. "I'll stand guard. You stood
guard last."
     Kahlan was exhausted. She glanced  down  at the sleeping pallet closest
to Richard's  things,  then  nodded. She lay  down on  his bed. The room was
getting dark. Just being  where he slept  was a comfort. Being so close, but
so far, she couldn't fall asleep.
     --]----
     Nicci's heart  sank when she  saw  that Richard  wasn't in  their room.
Kamil was  nowhere to  be found.  She  had  felt so  good  out  at the site,
watching all the people

     come  to see Richard's statue. Throngs of people had come to see it and
had been uplifted.
     Some  had  been  angered  by it. She, of  all people,  understood that.
Still, Nicci  could  hardly believe  the hateful reaction of some people  to
such beauty. Some people hated life.  She  understood that,  too. There were
those who refused to see-who didn't want to see.
     Other people, though, had a reaction much like hers.
     It  had  all come  clear for  her. For the first time in her life, life
made sense. Richard had tried to  tell her, but she hadn't listened. She had
heard the truth  before,  too,  but others-her  mother,  Brother  Narev, the
Order-had shouted it down, and shamed her out of listening.
     Her mother had trained her  well,  and from the first day she  had seen
Brother Narev, Nicci had been a soldier in the Order's army.
     When  she saw the  statue, she  saw  at last  the  truth she had always
refused to see, suddenly and clearly standing before her. This was the valid
vision  of life for  which  she had hungered, yet which she  had evaded, her
entire life.
     She understood, now, why life had  seemed  so empty, so  pointless: she
herself had rendered it  so in refusing to  think. Nicci had been a slave to
everyone of need. She had given  her masters their only real weapon  against
her; she had  surrendered  to their  twisted  lies by  putting the crippling
chains of guilt around  her own neck  for them, giving  herself freely  into
slavery to the whims and  wishes of others instead of living her life as she
should have-for herself. She had never asked why it was right for her  to be
a slave to another's desires, but not evil  for them to enslave her. She was
not contributing to  the betterment of mankind, but was merely a servant  to
countless  puling  little  tyrants.  Evil was not  one  large entity,  but a
ceaseless  torrent  of small wrongs left unchallenged,  until they  festered
into monsters.
     She  had lived  her whole life on  shifting quicksand, where reason and
the intellect were not to be  trusted, where only faith was valid, and blind
faith was sacred. She,  herself, had  enforced  mindless  conformity to that
empty evil.
     She  had helped  bring  everyone  together,  so  they  might  have  one
collective neck around which the worst among men, in the name of good, could
put their leash.
     Richard  had  answered  their  tower  of empty lies  in one righteously
beautiful statement for  all  to  see, and had punctuated it with the simple
words on the back of the bronze sundial.
     Her life was hers to live by right. She belonged to no one.
     Freedom exists first and foremost in the mind of the rational, thinking
individual-that was what Richard's statue had shown  her. That he had carved
it, proved it.  A  captive of her and the Order, his ideals  had risen above
both.
     Nicci realized only now that she had always known her father  held this
same  value-she  had  seen  it  in  his  eyes-even  though  he  could  never
rationalize it. His values were expressed through the integrity of his work;
that was why, from a young age, she had wanted to be an armorer like him. It
was his vision of life she  had always  loved  and admired,  but suppressed,
because of Mother and her ilk. It was that same look in Richard's eyes, that
same value for life held dear, that had drawn Nicci to him.
     Nicci knew now that she had worn black ever since her mother's death in
an endless,  shapeless  longing to bury not just her mother's hold over her,
but, more important, her mother's evil ideals.
     She was so  sorry Richard wasn't  home. She wanted to tell him that  he
had given

     her the answer  she had  sought.  She could never ask  his forgiveness,
though. What  she  had done to him was beyond forgiveness. She saw that now.
The only thing she could do now was to reverse the wrong she had done.
     As soon  as she found  him, they would leave. They would go back to the
New World. They  would find Kahlan. Then, Nicci would set things right.  She
had to  be  close to  Kahlan,  at least within sight,  in order to  undo the
spell. Then Kahlan would be free. Then Richard would be free.
     As much as Nicci loved Richard, she understood, now, that he should  be
with Kahlan, the woman he loved. Her desire for  him gave her no right to do
as she had done. She had no right to another's life, as they had no right to
hers.
     Nicci lay down in her bed and  wept at  the thought of the  outrage she
had done to them  both.  She was overcome with  shame. She had been so blind
for so long.
     She could not believe how  she had thrown her entire life away fighting
for evil just because it claimed to  be good. She truly had been a Sister of
the Dark.
     She at least could work to correct the harm she had caused.
     --]----
     Kahlan could hardly believe  the size of the crowd. By the light of the
moon brightening  the  thin layer  of hazy  clouds, and by  torches here and
there  throughout the valley,  it looked  like the open area  as far  as she
could see  was packed with people. The  numbers had to be in the hundreds of
thousands.
     Thunderstruck, Kamil threw up his arms. "It's  the middle of the night.
I've never seen so many people out here. What are they all doing here?"
     "How  would we know?" Cara sniped. She was in a foul mood, unhappy that
they hadn't found Richard, yet.
     The city  had been crowded  with  people,  too.  With the  city  guards
prowling the streets, uneasy about all the late-night activity, it  had been
necessary to restrain their eagerness in favor of caution. It had taken them
hours to get out to the site by way of back streets, dark roads, and Kamil's
guided tour of alleyways.
     The lad pointed. "It's up there."
     They followed him up a  road lined  with  workshops, most closed up and
dark. A  few had men inside,  still working at benches by the light of lamps
or candles.
     Kahlan reached under her  cloak and  curled her fingers around the hilt
of her sword when she saw a man running in their direction.  He saw them and
skidded to a halt.
     "Have you seen it?"
     "Seen what?" Kahlan asked.
     He  pointed  excitedly. "Down at the palace.  In the plaza." He started
running  again. He  called behind as  he went. "I have to go get my wife and
sons. They have to see it."
     Kahlan and Cara shared a look in the near darkness.
     Kamil ran  over to a shop  and tugged  on a door, but it  was  shut  up
tight. "Victor isn't  here." His  voice couldn't conceal his disappointment.
"It's too late."
     "Do you know what's down in the plaza?" Kahlan asked him.
     He thought  a moment. "The  plaza?  I know  the place,  but . . . wait,
that's where Richard  told me to go. The plaza. He  said to  go to the plaza
tomorrow."
     "Let's go down there now and have a look," Kahlan said.

     Kamil waved a hand, pointing. "This is the shortest  way, down the hill
behind the blacksmith shop."
     So jammed was  the  place with people,  that  it took them over an hour
just to  make it down the hill and across the  expanse of grounds around the
palace.  Even  though  it  was  the middle  of the night, more  people  kept
arriving all the time.
     Once they reached the palace, Kahlan  discovered that they couldn't get
to  the plaza. There was a huge mob of people stretching  back forever along
the front wall, waiting to go up to the plaza. When Kahlan, Cara, and  Kamil
tried to  go around  and  get  up there to see what was going on,  it nearly
started a riot. People had been  waiting a long time to reach the plaza, and
they didn't like having others try to push ahead. Kahlan saw several men try
to get ahead by going around  the waiting  crowd.  They were set upon by the
mob.
     Cara pulled  her hand out  from  under  her cloak  and  casually showed
Kahlan her Agiel.
     Kahlan shook her head. "Long odds with Jagang's army are one thing, but
the three of us against a few hundred thousand does not sound good to me."
     "Really?" Cara asked. "I thought it roughly even."
     Kahlan only smiled.  Even  Cara knew better  than to go  against a mob.
Kamil frowned in puzzlement at Cara's humor. When they found the back of the
line, they melted in.
     It  wasn't long before  the line  behind them grew  so large  that they
could no longer  see the  back end winding out  into the grounds. The people
all around seemed filled with a strange kind of nervous expectancy.
     A round woman in front,  bundled up  in little more than rags, turned a
plump grin on them. She held out what looked like a loaf of bread.
     "Would you like some?" she asked.
     "Thank you, no," Kahlan said. "But that's very kind of you to offer."
     "I've  never made such an offer, before." The woman giggled. "Seems the
right thing to do, now, doesn't it?"
     Kahlan had no idea what the woman was talking about, but said, "Yes, it
does."
     Throughout  the  night,  the line  inched  along.  Kahlan's back  ached
painfully. She even saw Cara grimace as she stretched.
     "I st