Blood of the Fold

Chapter 19

Richard swung his leg over his horse’s flanks, landed on the trampled snow of the stable yard, and tossed the reins to a waiting soldier as the company of two hundred soldiers galloped in behind him. He patted his footsore horse’s neck while a tired Ulic and Egan dismounted right behind. The still, cold, late-day air steamed with drifting clouds of breath of man and horse alike. The silent men were frustrated and discouraged; Richard was angry.

He pulled off a thickly padded glove and scratched the four days growth of beard as he yawned. He was tired, dirty, and hungry, but mostly he was angry. The trackers he had taken with him were good men, General Reibisch had told him, and Richard had no cause to dispute the general’s word, but as good as they were, they were not good enough. Richard was a keen tracker, too, and several times he had found telltales the others had missed, but two days of fierce blizzard made the job impossible and in the end they had failed.

It shouldn’t have been necessary in the first place, but he had let himself be duped. His first minor challenge as a leader, and he had botched it. He should never have trusted the man. Why was he always thinking people would see the side of reason and do the right thing? Why did he always think that people had good in them and, if allowed the chance, it would come to the surface?

As they slogged through the snow toward the palace, its white walls and spires mellowing to a dusky gray in the evening twilight, he asked Ulic and Egan to go find General Reibisch and to inquire about any other disasters that might have transpired while he was gone. The Keep watched him from the gloom in the shadows of the mountains, the snow a dark, moody, steel blue shawl drawn around its granite shoulders.

Richard found Mistress Sanderholt busy with her covey of workers in the din of the kitchen and asked if would be possible for her to find him and his two big guards something to eat, a chunk of dry bread, some leftover soup, anything. She saw that he was in no mood for conversation and offered a silent squeeze of his arm as she told him to put his feet up while she saw to it. He headed for a quiet study not far from the kitchens to sit for a rest while he waited for the others to return.

Coming around the corner to the study doorway, Berdine stepped in front of him. She was wearing her red leather. “And just where have you been?” she asked in an icy Mord-Sith tone.

“Chasing phantoms in the mountains. Didn’t Cara and Raina tell you where I was going?”

“You did not tell me.” Her hard blue eyes didn’t budge from his gaze. “That is what counts. You will not wander off again without telling me where you are going. Do you understand?”

Richard felt a chill run through his marrow. There was no mistaking who was speaking: not Berdine, the woman, but Mistress Berdine, a Mord-Sith. And it was not a question; it was a threat.

Richard gave himself a mental shake. He was just tired and she had been worried about the Lord Rahl. He was imagining things. What was the matter with him? He had probably given her a fright when she woke to discover he had taken off after Brogan and his sorcerous sister. She had an odd sense of humor, maybe this was her idea of a joke. He forced a toothy grin, and thought to lighten her concern.

“Berdine, you know I like you the best. I thought of nothing the whole time but your smiling blue eyes.”

Richard took a step toward the door. Her Agiel came up in her fist. She planted its tip against the far side of the doorframe, blocking his way. He had never seen Berdine unmask such a sinister countenance.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer. Don’t make me ask again.”

This time there was no excusing her tone or her actions. The Agiel was right in front of his face, and it wasn’t there casually. He was seeing for the first time her true Mord-Sith persona, the personality her victims had seen, the core character of her vicious indoctrination—and he didn’t like it. For an instant, he saw through the eyes of those forsaken victims she had had at the end of her Agiel. No one died an easy death as the captive of a Mord-Sith, and none but he had ever survived the ordeal.

He suddenly viewed his faith in these women with regret, and felt the sting of disappointment in his trust of them.

Instead of a chill, it was the heat of anger that surged through his bones this time. He realized he was about to do something he might regret, and immediately took control of his temper, but he could feel the rage powering in his glare.

“Berdine, I had to go after Brogan as soon as I found out he had escaped, if I was to have any chance to find him. I told Cara and Raina where I was going and at their insistence took Ulic and Egan with me. You were asleep. I saw no need to wake you.”

Still she did not move. “You were needed here. We have many trackers and soldiers. We have only one leader.” The tip of her Agiel swept around, stopping before his eyes. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

It took all his willpower not to reach out and break her arm. She withdrew her Agiel, along with her blistering glower, and stalked away.

Inside the small, darkly paneled room, he hurled his heavy hide mantle at the wall beside the narrow fireplace. How could he be so naive? They were vipers with fangs, and he had allowed them to drape themselves around his neck. He was surrounded by strangers. No, not strangers. He knew what Mord-Sith were; he knew some of the things the D’Harans had done; he knew some of the things the representatives of some of the lands here had done; yet he was foolish enough to believe they could do right if given the chance.

He leaned a hand on the window frame and stared out on the darkening, mountainous landscape as he let the warmth from the low, crackling fire soak in. In the distance the Wizard’s Keep looked down on him. He missed Gratch. He missed Kahlan. Dear spirits, he wanted to hold her in his arms.

Maybe he should give this whole thing up. He could find someplace in the Hartland Woods where they would never be found. The two of them could just vanish and let the rest of the world fend for itself. Why should he care—they didn’t.

Zedd, I need you here to help me.

Richard saw light creep across the room toward him when the door opened. He looked over his shoulder to see Cara standing in the doorway. Raina was just behind. Both wore their brown leather outfits and mischievous smiles. He was not amused.

“Lord Rahl, glad to see your handsome hide back in one piece.” With a smirk, she tossed her blond braid back over her shoulder. “Did you miss us? I hope you will not—”

“Get out.”

Her playful smile withered. “What?”

He rounded on her. “I said get out. Or did you come to threaten me with an Agiel? I don’t want to look at your Mord-Sith faces right now. Get out!”

Cara swallowed. “We will not be far, if you need us,” she said in a small voice. She looking like he had slapped her. She turned and ushered Raina away with her.

When they had gone, Richard slumped down in a tufted leather chair behind a small, dark, glossy table with claw-foot legs. The smoky, acrid smell from the hearth told him it was oak, a choice he would have made himself for such a cold night. He pushed the lamp to the side near the wall where hung a grouping of small paintings of country scenes. The largest was no bigger than his hand, yet each still managed to portray grand, sweeping vistas. He stared at their peaceful views, wishing life could be as simple as it looked in the idyllic paintings.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Ulic and Egan appeared with General Reibisch at the door.

The general clapped a fist over his heart. “Lord Rahl, I’m relieved to see you’ve returned safely. Did you have any success?”

Richard shook his head. “The men you sent with me were as good as your word, but the conditions were impossible. We managed to track them for a ways, but they went up Stentor Street, into the center of the city. Once they did that, there was no way to tell which direction they took. Probably to the northeast, back to Nicobarese, but we swept a circle of the entire city anyway in case they went another direction, and could find no trace of them. A meticulous search of all the possibilities took quite a while and allowed the storm ample time to cover their trail.”

The general grunted as he thought. “We questioned the ones they left behind at their palace. None knew where Brogan went.”

“They could be lying.”

Reibisch’s thumb stroked the scar on the side of his face. “Take my word, they didn’t know where he went.”

Richard didn’t want to know the details of what had been done on his behalf. “From the signs at the beginning we were able to discern that there were only three—undoubtedly Lord General Brogan, his sister, and that other one.”

“Well, if he didn’t take his men, then it would appear he was simply running. You probably scared the wits out of him, and he just bolted for his life.”

Richard tapped a finger to the table. “Maybe. But I wish I knew where he went, just to be sure.”

The general shrugged. “Why didn’t you put a tracer cloud on him, or use your magic to follow his trail? That’s what Darken Rahl did when he wanted to follow someone.”

Richard knew that all too well. He knew what a tracer cloud was, from its unfavorable end. This had all started when Darken Rahl had hooked a tracer cloud to him so he could come and collect him at his leisure in order to recover the Book of Counted Shadows. Zedd had stood Richard up on his wizard’s rock to unhook the cloud. Though he had felt the magic flowing through himself, Richard didn’t know how it worked. He had also seen Zedd use some of his magic dust to cover their trail, to keep Darken Rahl from following, but he didn’t know how that worked, either.

Richard didn’t really want to shake General Reibisch’s faith in him by admitting he didn’t know the first thing about magic; he wasn’t feeling very comfortable with his allies at the moment.

“You can’t hook a tracer cloud to someone when there’s a sky full of storm clouds. You couldn’t tell which was yours, in order to follow it. Lunetta, Brogan’s sister, is a sorceress; she would use magic to obscure their trail.”

“That’s a shame.” The general scratched his beard, apparently believing the bluff. “Well, magic’s not my specialty. We have you for that business.”

Richard changed the subject. “How is everything going here?”

The general grinned wickedly. “There isn’t a sword in the city that isn’t ours. Some of them didn’t like it, but once the alternatives were clearly explained, they all went along without a fight.”

Well, there was that much. “The Blood of the Fold at the Nicobarese Palace, too?”

“They’ll be having to eat with their fingers. We didn’t let them keep so much as a spoon.”

Richard rubbed his eyes. “Good. You’ve done well, General. What about the mriswith? Have there been any more attacks?”

“Not since that first bloody night. It’s been real quiet. Why, I’ve even slept better than I have for weeks. Since you took over, I’ve not even had any of those dreams.”

Richard looked up. “Dreams? What sort of dreams?”

“Well . . .” The general scratched his head of rust-colored hair. “That’s odd. I don’t really remember them, now. I was having these dreams that troubled me greatly, but since you came I haven’t had them. You know how it is with dreams, after a while they fade and you can’t remember them.”

“I guess.” This whole thing was beginning to feel like a dream: a bad dream. Richard wished that was all it was. “How many men did we lose when the mriswith attacked?”

“Just shy of three hundred.”

Richard stroked his forehead as he felt his stomach lurch. “I didn’t think there were that many bodies. I wouldn’t have thought it was that many.”

“Well, that includes the others.”

Richard took his hand away from his face. “Others? What others?”

General Reibisch pointed through the window. “The ones up there. Nearly eighty men on the road up by the Wizard’s Keep were cut down, too.”

Richard swung around and looked out the window. Only the silhouette of the Keep was visible against the deep violet sky. Would the mriswith be trying to get into the Keep? Dear spirits, if they were, what could he do about it? Kahlan told him that the Keep was protected by powerful spells, but he didn’t know if the webs could hold back creatures like the mriswith. Why would they want to get into the Keep?

He told himself not to let his imagination run away with him; the mriswith had killed soldiers and other people all over the city. Zedd would be back in a few weeks and would know what to do. Weeks? No, it would likely be more than a month, maybe two. Could he wait that long?

Maybe he should go have a look. But that could be foolish, too. The Keep was a place of powerful magic, and he knew nothing about magic, except that it was dangerous. He would just be asking for more trouble. He had enough trouble. Still, maybe he should have a look for himself. That might be best.

“Your dinner’s here,” Ulic said.

Richard turned back. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Mistress Sanderholt had a silver tray loaded with steaming vegetable stew, black bread slathered with butter, spiced eggs, herbed rice with brown cream, lamb chops, pears with white sauce, and a mug of honeyed tea.

With a friendly wink, she set down the tray. “Eat all your dinner, it will do you good, and then rest well, Richard.”

The only night he had spent at the Confessors’ Palace he had slept in the council chambers, in Kahlan’s chair. “Where?”

She shrugged, “Well, you could stay in—” She paused, catching herself. “You could stay in the Mother Confessor’s room. It’s the finest room in the palace.”

That was where he and Kahlan were to have spent their wedding night. “I wouldn’t feel right about that, just now. Is there another bed I could use?”

Mistress Sanderholt gestured with a bandaged hand. The bandages were less bulky now, and cleaner. “Up that wing, at the end, take to the right and there is a row of guest rooms. We have no guests right now, so you can have your pick.”

“Where are the Mord . . . Where are Cara and her two friends sleeping?”

She made a wry face and pointed in the opposite direction. “I directed them to the servant quarters. They share a room there.”

The farther the better, as far as he was concerned. “That’s good of you, Mistress Sanderholt. I’ll take one of the guest rooms, then.”

She elbowed Ulic. “What would you big boys like to eat?”

“What do you have?” Egan asked, with a rare show of enthusiasm.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Why don’t you two come to the kitchen and choose for yourselves?” She saw the glance to Richard. “It’s just a short distance. You won’t be far from your charge.”

Richard threw the sides of his black mriswith cape back over the arms of the chair. He waved for them to go as he took a spoonful of the vegetable stew and a swig of the tea. General Reibisch clapped a fist to his heart and bid him a good night. Richard acknowledged the salute with a flourish of brown bread.