Blood of the Fold

Chapter 27

Like snowflake patches of a dark dream drifting down, everything came slowly back into her vision—the twin fires first, then the torches, then the dark stone walls, and finally the people.

Her whole body was numb for a stunned moment before the feeling returned to her flesh in a million painful pinpricks. She hurt everywhere.

Jagang tore off a big bite of roast pheasant. He chewed a moment, and then wagged the leg bone at her.

“You know your problem, Ulicia?” he asked, still chewing. “You use magic that you can unleash as quick as a thought.”

The smirk returned to his greasy lips. “I, on the other hand, am a dream walker. I use the time between fragments of thought, in that stillness when there is nothing, to do what I do. I slip in where no other can go.”

He gestured with the bone again as he swallowed. “You see, for me, in that Space between thought, time is infinite, and I can do as I wish. You might as well be stone statues trying to chase me.”

Ulicia felt her Sisters through the link. It was still there.

“Crude. Very crude,” he said. “I’ve seen others do it much better, but then they’d been practiced at it. I left the link—for now. For now, I want you all to feel each other. I’ll break it later. Just as I can break the link, I can break your minds, too.” He took a gulp of wine. “But I think that’s so unproductive. How can you teach people a lesson, really teach them a lesson, if their minds don’t understand it?”

Through the link, Ulicia felt Cecilia lose control of her bladder, and the warm urine running down her legs.

“How?” Ulicia heard herself ask in a hollow voice. “How can you use the time between thoughts?”

Jagang picked up his knife and sliced off a slab of meat on an ornate silver platter to his side. He stabbed the bloody center of the slice with the knifepoint and then rested his elbows on the table. “What are we all?” He waved around the skewered hunk of meat as it dripped red down his knife. “What is reality—the reality of our existence?”

He drew the meat off the knife with his teeth and chewed as he went on. “Are we our bodies? Is a small person less than a big person, then? If we were our bodies, then when we lost an arm, or a leg, would we be less, would we begin to fade from existence? No. We are the same person.

“We are not our bodies; we are our thoughts. As they form, they define who we are, and create the reality of our existence. Between those thoughts, there is nothing, simply the body, waiting for our thoughts to make us who we are.

“Between your thoughts, I come. In that space between your thoughts time has no meaning to you, but it has meaning to me.” He took a swig of wine. “I am a shadow, slipping between the cracks of your existence.”

Through the link, Ulicia could feel the others trembling. “That isn’t possible,” she whispered. “Your Han can’t spread time, break it apart.”

His condescending smile caught her breath short. “A small, simple wedge, inserted into a crack in the largest, most massive boulder, can split it apart. Destroy it.

“I am that wedge. That wedge is now hammered into the cracks in your minds.”

She stood silently as his thumb gouged off a long strip of pork from a roasted suckling pig. “When you sleep, your thoughts float and drift and you are vulnerable. When you sleep, you are a beacon I can find. Then, my thoughts slip into the cracks. The spaces where you fade in and out of existence are chasms to me.”

“And what do you want with us?” Armina asked.

He tore off a bite of the pork dangling from his meaty fingers. “Well, among my uses for you, we have a mutual enemy: Richard Rahl. You know him as Richard Cypher.” He arched an eyebrow over one of his dark, seething eyes. “The Seeker.

“Up until now he’s been invaluable. He did me a huge favor by destroying the barrier, which kept me on this side. My body, anyway. You, the Sisters of the Dark, the Keeper, and Richard Rahl made it possible for me to bring the race of man to ascendancy.”

“We have done no such thing,” Tovi protested in a meek voice.

“Ah, but you have. You see, the Creator and the Keeper vied for dominance in this world, the Creator simply to prevent the Keeper from swallowing it into the world of the dead, and the Keeper simply because he has a insatiable appetite for the living.”

His inky-eyed gaze rose to meet theirs. “In your struggle to free the Keeper, to give him this world, you gave the Keeper power here, and that, in turn, baited Richard Rahl to come to the defense of the living. He restored the balance.

“In that balance, just as in the space between your thoughts, I come.

“Magic is the conduit to those other worlds, giving them power here. By reducing the amount of magic in the world I will lessen the Creator and the Keeper’s influence here. The Creator will still send his spark of life, and the Keeper will still take it away when its end has come, but beyond that, the world will belong to man. The old religion of magic will be consigned to the midden heap of history, and eventually, to myth.

“I am a dream walker; I have seen the dreams of men, I know their potential. Magic suppresses these boundless visions. Without magic, man’s mind, his imagination, will be unleashed, and he will be all-powerful.

“That’s why I have the army I do. When magic is dead, I will still have them. I keep them well practiced for that day.”

“And how is Richard Rahl your enemy?” Ulicia asked, hoping to keep him talking while she tried to think of what they could do.

“He had to do as he did, of course, or you darlins would have given the world to the Keeper. That aided me, but now he interferes with my plans. He’s young, and ignorant of his talents. I, on the other hand, have spent the last twenty years perfecting my ability.”

He waved the knifepoint in front of his eyes. “Only in the last year have my eyes turned—the mark of a dream walker. Only now am I entitled to the most feared appellation in the ancient world. In the ancient tongue, ‘dream walker’ is synonymous with ‘weapon.’ The wizards who created this weapon came to regret it.”

He licked the grease off his knife as he watched them. “It’s a mistake to forge weapons with minds of their own. You are my weapons now. I don’t make the same mistake.

“My power allows me to enter the minds of anyone when they sleep. In those who don’t have the gift I can only exert a limited amount of influence, and they are of small use to me anyway, but in those who are gifted, like you six, I can do anything I wish. Once my wedge is in your mind, it is no longer yours. It’s mine.

“The magic of the dream walkers was powerful, but unstable. None has been born with the ability in the last three thousand years, since the barrier went up and trapped us here. But now, a dream walker treads this world again.”

He shook with a menacing chuckle. The tiny braids at the corners of his mouth danced. “That would be me.”

Ulicia almost told him to get to the point, but stopped herself just in time. She had no desire to see what he would do when he was done talking. She needed the time to try to think of something. “How do you know all this?”

Jagang tore a strip of charred fat from the roast and nibbled on it as he went on. “In a buried city in my homeland of Altur’Rang, I found an archive from the ancient times. Ironic, the value of books, to a warrior like me. The Palace of the Prophets has books of immense value, too, if you know how to use them. Too bad the Prophet died, but I have other wizards.

“A fragment of magic from the ancient war, a shield of sorts, was passed down from its originator to all those descendants with the gift born to the House of Rahl. This bond shields people’s minds so I can’t enter. Richard Rahl has that ability, and has begun to use it. Before he learns too much, he must be brought to task.

“Along with his betrothed.” He paused with a distant, brooding look. “The Mother Confessor dealt me a small setback, but she’s being brought to task by my unwitting puppets up north. The fools, in their zeal, have created some complications, but I’ve yet to truly jerk their strings. When I do, they’ll jump to my tune; I have that wedge planted deep. I’ve spent great effort to bend events to my advantage so as to put Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor in the palm of my hand.”

He squeezed a fist of meat from the roasted suckling pig. “You see, he’s been born a war wizard, the first in three thousand years, but then, you knew that. A wizard like that will prove an invaluable weapon to me. He can do things none of you can, so I don’t want to kill him; I want to control him. When he’s outlived his usefulness, then he’ll need killing.”

Jagang sucked the pig fat from his rings. “You see, control is more important than killing. I could have killed you six, but then what good would you be? As long as you’re under my dominion, you’re no threat to me, and of use in oh, so many ways.”

Jagang turned his wrist up, pointing his knife at Merissa. “You’ve all vowed vengeance against him, but you, my darlin, have vowed to bathe in his blood. I may yet give you the chance.”

Merissa’s face paled. “How . . . could you know that? I said that when I was awake.”

He chuckled at the look of panic on her face. “If you don’t want me to know something, darlin, then you shouldn’t dream about what you’ve said while you were awake.”

Through the link, Ulicia felt Armina come near to fainting.

“Of course, you six must first be brought to task. You must learn who it is that’s in control of your lives.” With his knife he indicated the silent slaves behind him. “You’ll become as obedient as these, here.”

For the first time, Ulicia took a good look at the partially clad people around the room. She nearly gasped aloud. The women were all Sisters. Worse, most were her Sisters of the Dark. She took a quick survey; not all of them were here. The men, mostly young wizards who had been released after their training at the palace, were also ones who had given a soul oath to the Keeper.

“Some are Sisters of the Light, and serve well, for fear of what I’ll visit upon them should they displease me.” With a finger and thumb, Jagang stroked the thin gold chain between the rings in his nose and ear, “but I like your Sisters of the Dark the best; I’ve brought them all to task, even those at the palace.” Ulicia felt as if another pin had been knocked from under her. “I have business at the Palace of the Prophets. Important business.”

The gold chains at his chest glinted in the firelight as he spread his arms. “They’re all quite obedient.” His inky gaze turned to those behind. “Aren’t you, my darlins?”

Janet, a Sister of the Light, kissed her ring finger as tears crept down her cheeks. Jagang laughed. His ring sparkled in the firelight as he pointed a thick finger at her.

“See that? I permit her to do that. It keeps her filled with false hope. Would I prevent it, then she might kill herself, because she doesn’t have the fear of death like those sworn to the Keeper. Isn’t that right, my darlin Janet?”

“Yes, Excellency,” she answered in a cowed voice. “You own my body in this life, but my soul belongs to the Creator when I die.”

Jagang laughed, a morbid, grating sound. Ulicia had heard it before, and she knew she was going to be its cause again.

“You see? That’s what I tolerate in order to maintain my control. Of course she will now have to serve a week in the tents as punishment.” His inky glare caused Janet to shrink back. “But then you knew that before you said it, didn’t you my darlin?”

Sister Janet’s voice trembled. “Yes, Excellency.”

Jagang’s murky, clouded eyes returned to the six before him. “I like the Sisters of the Dark best because they have sound reason to fear death.” He twisted the pheasant in half. Bones snapped and popped. “They’ve failed the Keeper, to whom they’ve sworn their souls. If they die, it’s no escape. If they die, the Keeper will have his revenge for their failure.” He laughed, a deep, resonant, mocking sound. “As he’ll have you six, for eternity, if you displease me enough to earn death.”

Ulicia swallowed. “We understand . . . Excellency.”

Jagang’s nightmare gaze made her forget to breathe. “Oh no, Ulicia, I don’t think you truly do. When your lessons are finished, though, you will.”

With his nightmare gaze on Ulicia, he reached under the table and dragged a shapely woman out by her blond hair. She winced in pain as his powerful fist lifted her. She was dressed the same as the others. Through the sheer fabric, Ulicia could see older, yellow bruises, and newer, purple ones. There was a bruise on her right cheek, and a fresh, huge, blue-black one on her left jaw, with a line of four cuts left by his rings.

It was Christabel, one of the Sisters of the Dark Ulicia had left at the palace. The Sisters of the Dark at the palace were to have laid the groundwork for their return. Apparently, they now laid the groundwork for Jagang’s arrival. What he could want with the Palace of the Prophets, she couldn’t fathom.

Jagang turned his hand over, pointing. “Stand before me.”

Sister Christabel scurried around the table to stand before Jagang. She quickly smoothed her disheveled hair, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before bowing. “How may I serve you, Excellency?”

“Well, Christabel, I need to teach these six their first lesson.” He tore the other leg off the pheasant. “In order to do that, you must die.”

She bowed. “Yes, Excell—” She froze, realizing what he had just said. Ulicia could see her legs trembling as she straightened, but still, the woman dared say nothing.

He gestured with the pheasant leg to the two women sitting before him on the bearskin, and they scrambled away. Jagang smiled lhat terrifying smirk of his. “Good-bye, Christabel.”

Her arms flung into the air as she collapsed to the ground with a shriek. Christabel thrashed madly on the floor, screamed so loudly it hurt Ulicia’s ears. The six women standing above her at the edge of the bearskin watched with wide eyes, holding their breath. Jagang gnawed on his pheasant leg. The bloodcurdling screams went on and on as Christabel’s head whipped from side to side and her whole body flopped and bounced as she twitched violently.

Jagang occupied himself with his pheasant leg and having his wine mug refilled. No one spoke as he finished the leg and turned to take a few grapes.

Ulicia could stand it no longer. “How long until she dies?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

Jagang lifted an eyebrow. “Until she dies?” He threw his head back as her roared in laughter. His fists, bristling with huge rings, pounded the table. No one else in the room so much as smiled. His burly body shook. The thin chain between his nose and ear danced as his laughter died out in fits.

“She was dead before she hit the floor.”

“What? But she . . . she’s still screaming.”

Christabel suddenly was silent, her chest as still as stone.

“She’s been dead from the first instant,” Jagang said. A slow smile spread on his lips as he fixed the black void of his gaze on Ulicia. “That wedge I told you about. Just like the one I have in your minds. What you see is her soul screaming. You are seeing her torment in the world of the dead. The Keeper looks to be displeased with his Sister of the Dark.”

Jagang lifted a finger and Christabel resumed her wild thrashing and screaming.

Ulicia swallowed. “How long . . . how long until she . . . stops?”

He licked his lips. “Until she rots.”

Ulicia felt her knees trembling, and through the link she could feel the other five on the verge of screaming in mad panic, just as Christabel was. This was the displeasure the Keeper would visit upon them if they didn’t restore his influence in this world.

Jagang snapped his fingers. “Slith! Eeris!”

Light shimmered against the wall. Ulicia gasped as two caped forms seemed to appear out of the dark stone.

The two scaled creatures glided silently around the table and bowed. “Yesss, dreamssss walker?”

Jagang waggled his thick finger, indicating the screaming woman on the floor. “Throw her down the privy pit.”

The mriswith flipped their capes back over their shoulders and bent, lifting the thrashing, shrieking body of a woman Ulicia had know for well over a hundred years, a woman who had helped her, and been an obedient servant to the Keeper’s wishes. She was to have had a reward for her service. They all were.

Ulicia looked to Jagang as the two mriswith left the room with their load for the privy pit. “What do you want us to do?”

Jagang lifted a hand and with two grease-slicked fingers motioned a soldier at the side of the room to come forward. “These six belong to me. Ring them.”

The husky man, draped in furs and hung with weapons, bowed. He went to the closest, Nicci, and with filthy fingers unceremoniously pulled on her lower lip, distending it grotesquely. Her wide blue eyes filled with panic. Ulicia gasped with Nicci. Through the link, she could feel the young woman’s stunned pain and terror as the blunt, rusty iron pick stabbed with a twisting motion through the margin of the lip. The soldier stuck the wooden-handled pick back in his belt and pulled a gold ring from his pocket as he held out her lower lip. With the help of his teeth, he spread the split in the ring and then shoved it through the bleeding wound. He twisted the ring around and used his teeth to close the gap.

The unshaven, filthy, stinking soldier came to Ulicia last. By then she was shuddering uncontrollably, having felt it done to each of the others. As he yanked on her lower lip, she desperately tried to think of an escape. It was like drawing a bucket from an empty well. Tears of pain flooded from her eyes as the ring was poked through.

Jagang wiped grease from his mouth with the back of his hand while he watched with amusement as blood trickled down all their chins. “You six are my slaves, now. If you don’t give me cause to kill you, I have use for you at the Palace of the Prophets. When I’m finished with Richard Rahl, I may even let you kill him.”

His eyes came up again, the sullen shapes in them shifting in a way that caught her breath. All traces of mirth vanished, leaving unbridled menace in its place. “But first, I’m not finished with your lessons.”

“We understand quite well our alternatives,” Ulicia said hurriedly. “Please—you have no need to fear our loyalty.”

“Oh I know that,” Jagang whispered. “But I still haven’t finished with your lessons. Your first one was only the beginning. The rest won’t be nearly so quick.”

Ulicia’s legs were in danger of giving way. Since Jagang had begun coming into her dreams, her waking life had turned into a nightmare. There must be a way to stop this, but she could think of none. She had a vision of herself, returning to the Palace of the Prophets as one of Jagang’s slaves, in one of those outfits.

Jagang glanced past her. “Have you boys been listening?”

Ulicia heard Captain Blake answer that they had. She started. She had forgotten all about the thirty sailors standing behind her at the back of the room.

Jagang gestured with two fingers for them to come closer. “In the morning you may leave. I thought, though, that for tonight you would like to have these ladies.”

Each of the six went rigid.

“But—”

Her words were cut short by the way the floating shapes shifted suddenly in his mirky eyes. “From now on, if you use your magic against my wishes, even if it’s to stop yourself from sneezing, you’ll share Christabel’s fate. In your dreams I’ve shown you a small taste of what I can do to you while you’re alive, and you’ve now seen a small taste of what the Keeper will do to you if you die. You have but one path to tread. If I were you, I’d not put one foot wrong.”

Jagang returned his gaze to the sailors behind them. “They’re yours for the night. Knowing these six from their dreams, I know you have scores to settle. Do to them as you wish.”

The sailors’ voices rose in gleeful oaths.

Through the link, Ulicia could feel a hand grip Armina’s breast, another pull Nicci’s head back by her hair as the lace at her bodice was pulled loose, and another hand slide up the inside of her own thigh. She choked back a scream.

“There’s some minor rules,” Jagang said, stopping the hands on them. “If you violate them, I’ll gut you all like a sack of fish.”

“And what would the rules be, Emperor?” a sailor asked.

“You can’t kill them. They’re my slaves—they belong to me. I want them returned in the morning in good enough condition so that they can serve me. That means no broken bones and such. You’ll draw lots as to which one you get. I know what’ll happen if I let you choose for yourselves. I don’t want any of them neglected.”

The sailors all chuckled in agreement, and all spoke up that it was more than fair. They vowed the rules would be followed.

Jagang returned his attention to the six women. “I have a gigantic army of big burly soldiers, and nowhere near enough whores to go around. Puts my men in an ugly mood. Until I have other duties for you, you’ll serve in that capacity for all but four hours a day. Be thankful you have my ring in your lip; it’ll keep them from killing you while they’re having their fun.”

Sister Cecilia spread her hands. She glowed with a kindly, innocent smile. “Emperor Jagang, your men are young and strong. I’m afraid they would find no enjoyment being with an old woman such as myself. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure they’ll grin with delight to have you. You’ll see.”

“Emperor, Sister Cecilia is right. I’m afraid I, too, am too old and fat,” Tovi said in her best elderly voice. “We would bring your men no satisfaction.”

“Satisfaction?” He took a bite of the roast on the point of his knife. “Satisfaction? Are you daft? This has nothing to do with satisfaction. I assure you, my men will enjoy your warm charms—but you misunderstand.”

He waggled a finger at them, the greasy rings on his fingers glinting in the firelight. “You six were Sisters of the Light, and then Sisters of the Dark. You’re probably the most powerful sorceresses in the world. This is to teach you that you’re little more than dung beneath my boots. I’ll do with you as I please. Those with the gift are my weapons, now.

“This is to teach you a lesson. You have no say in it. Until I decide otherwise, I give you to my men to use. If they want to twist your fingers and take bets on who can make you scream the loudest, then they will. If they want any other sort of pleasure from you, then they’ll have it. They have quite varied tastes, and as long as they don’t kill you, they’re free to indulge them.”

He shoved the rest of the piece of meat in his mouth. “After these fellows are done with you, anyway. Enjoy my gift, boys. Do as I ask, follow my rules, and I may have use of you in the future. Emperor Jagang treats his friends well.”

A cheer for the emperor went up from the sailors.

Ulicia would have fallen when her legs buckled had not an arm circled her waist to pull her back tight against an eager sailor. She could smell his foul breath.

“Well, well, well, lass. Looks like you ladies are going to come out to play after all, and after you were so nasty to us.”

Ulicia could hear herself whimper. Her lip throbbed in pain, but she knew it was only the beginning. She was so stunned by what was happening that she couldn’t form a clear thought.

“Oh,” Jagang said, stopping everyone. He gestured with his knife to Merissa. “Except that one. You can’t have her,” he said to the sailors. He waggled two fingers. “Step forward, darlin.”

Merissa took two strides to the fur. Through the link, Ulicia could feel her legs trembling.

“Christabel was mine, exclusively. She was my favorite. But she’s dead now, just to serve as a lesson for you.” He glanced to where the sailors had already pulled her dress open. “You will take her place.”

He returned his inky gaze to her eyes. “You did say, if I recall correctly, that you would lick my feet, if you must. You must.” At Merissa’s look of surprise, Jagang smiled that deadly smile of his, framed by the little braids at the ends. “I told you, darlin, you dream things you’ve said when you’re awake.”

Merissa nodded weakly. “Yes, Excellency.”

“Take off that dress. You might need something nice for later, if I choose to let you kill Richard Rahl for me.” He looked to the other women as Merissa did as she was ordered. “I’m going to leave the link on you for now so you can each feel the lessons the others get. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on any of it.”

When Merissa had finished, Jagang turned the knife between a finger and thumb, and pointed it down. “Under the table, darlin.”

Ulicia could feel the coarse fur rug against Merissa’s knees, and then the rough stone floor under the table. The sailors leered at the sight.

Through sheer force of will, from her reservoir of hatred for this man, Ulicia tapped strength and drew resolve. She was the leader of the Sisters of the Dark. Through the link, she spoke to the others. “We have all been through the ritual. Worse than this has been done to us. We are Sisters of the Dark; remember who is our true Master. For now we are slaves to this leech, but he has made a huge mistake if he thinks we don’t have minds. He has no power of his own except to use ours. We will think of something, and then Jagang will pay. Oh, sweet Master will he ever pay.”

“But what are we going to do until then!” Armina screamed.

“Silence!” Nicci commanded. Ulicia could feel the probing fingers on Nicci, and she could feel the white heat of her rage, and she could feel her heart of black ice. “Remember each face. They will each pay. Listen to Ulicia. We’ll think of something, and then we will teach them all lessons only we could envision.”

“And don’t any of you dare dream any of this,” Ulicia warned. “The one thing we cannot afford is to let Jagang kill us, or all hope is lost. As long as we live, we have a chance to earn our way back into our Master’s favor. We’ve been promised a reward for our souls, and I intend to have it. Have strength, my Sisters.”

“But Richard Rahl is mine,” Merissa hissed. “Any who takes him in my stead will answer to me—and the Keeper.” Even Jagang, had he been able to hear her, would have blanched at the venom in her warning. Through the link, Ulicia felt Merissa push her thick hair back out of the way. She could taste what Merissa tasted.

“I’m done with you . . .” Jagang paused a moment as he drew a breath. He waved the knife. “Be gone.”

Captain Blake snatched Ulicia by the hair. “Time for payback, lass.”