Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Chapter 7

When the soldier walking past the wagons tossed the hard-boiled eggs, Richard caught as many as he could. As soon as he had scooped the rest of them up off the ground he gathered them all in the crook of his arm and crawled back under the wagon to get out of the rain. It was a cold, miserable excuse for a shelter, but it was still better than sitting in the rain.

After having collected his own booty of eggs, Johnrock, pulling his chain behind, scurried back under the other end of the wagon.

“Eggs again,” Johnrock said in disgust. “That’s all they ever feed us. Eggs!”

“It could be worse,” Richard told him.

“How?” Johnrock demanded, not at all happy about his diet.

Richard wiped eggs on his pants, trying to clean the mud off the shells as best he could. “They could be feeding us York.”

Johnrock frowned over at Richard. “York?”

“Your teammate who broke his leg,” Richard said as he started peeling one of his eggs. “The one Snake-face murdered.”

“Oh. That York.” Johnrock considered a moment. “You really think these soldiers eat people?”

Richard glanced over. “If they run out of food they will turn to eating the dead. If they are hungry enough and run out of dead, they will harvest a new crop.”

“You think they will run out of food?”

Richard knew they would, but he didn’t want to say so. He had instructed the D’Haran forces not only to destroy any supply train from the Old World, but to destroy the Old World’s ability to provide for their massive invasion force to the north.

“I’m just saying that it could be worse than eggs.”

Johnrock looked at his eggs in a new light, finally grumbling his agreement.

As Johnrock started in peeling an egg of his own, he changed the subject. “You think they’ll make us play Ja’La in the rain?”

Richard swallowed a mouthful of egg before he answered. “Probably. But I’d rather be playing a game and get warm than sit here freezing all day.”

“I suppose,” Johnrock said.

“Besides,” Richard told him, “the sooner we can start defeating the teams come for the tournaments, the sooner we work our way up in the standings, and the sooner we get to play the emperor’s team.”

Johnrock grinned at that prospect.

Richard was starving, but he forced himself to slow down and savor the meal. As they peeled shells and ate in silence, he kept an eye on the activity in the distance. Even in the rain, men were busy at every sort of work. The sound of hammers at forges rang through the drone of rain and clamor of conversation, yelling, arguing, laughing, and orders being shouted.

The vast encampment spread across the flat Azrith Plain to what Richard could see of the horizon. Sitting on the ground it was hard to see a great deal of the larger camp out beyond. He could see wagons and a little farther away the larger tents in the middle distance. Horses rode past while wagons pulled by mules made their way through the milling masses. Men on foot, looking miserable in the rain, stood in lines waiting for food at cook tents.

In the distance the People’s Palace, sitting on a high plateau, towered over everything. Even in the murk of the gray day, the magnificent stone walls, grand towers, and tiled roofs of the palace stood out above the grimy army come to destroy it. With the steamy vapor rising from the Imperial Order camp, along with the rain and the overcast, the plateau and the palace atop it looked like a distant, noble apparition. There were times when cloud and mist drew across like a curtain and the entire plateau vanished in the gray gloom, as if it had seen enough of the seething horde come to defile it.

There was no easy way for any enemy to attack the palace high on the plateau. The road up the side of the cliff walls was far too narrow for any kind of meaningful assault. Besides that, there was a drawbridge that Richard was certain would have already been raised and, even if it weren’t, there were massive walls at the top that were formidable in their own right and little space outside of them to gather any sizable assault force.

Except in times of war, the People’s Palace drew commerce from all over D’Hara. Supplies for all the people living there were constantly being brought in. Because it was a trade center, great numbers of people came to the palace to buy and sell goods. For all those people, the primary way up to the city palace was through the inside of the plateau itself. Stairs and walkways accommodated the large number of visitors and vendors. There were also wide ramps for horses and wagons. Because so many people traveled up the inside of the plateau, there were shops and stands all along the way. Large numbers of people came for those market stands and never made the journey all the way up to the city at the top.

The entire inside of the plateau was honeycombed with rooms of every sort. Some of the interior spaces were public, but some were not. There were large numbers of soldiers of the First File—the palace guard—barracked there.

The problem, from the perspective of the Imperial Order, was that the great doors to those inner access areas were closed. Those doors had been made to stand against any kind of attack, and there were enough supplies stored inside for a long siege.

Outside, the Azrith Plain was not at all a hospitable place for forces to gather for a siege. While deep wells inside the plateau provided water for the inhabitants, outside on the Azrith Plain there was no steady supply of water nearby, except the occasional rain, and there was no close source of firewood. On top of that, the weather out on the plain was harsh.

The Imperial Order did have plenty of gifted with them, but they couldn’t be much help in breaching the palace defenses. The very construction of the palace was in the form of a protection spell that magnified the power of the ruling Lord Rahl while at the same time hindering the power of others. Inside that plateau, and in the city atop it, the ability of any gifted but a Rahl was severely blunted by that spell.

Because he was a Rahl, such a spell would ordinarily be a benefit for Richard, if it were not for the fact that he had somehow been cut off from his gift. He was pretty sure how that had been accomplished. Chained to a wagon, in the middle of an enemy force numbering in the millions, though, he couldn’t do a whole lot about it.

Other than the plateau and the palace atop it, the thing that stood out highest of all out on the Azrith Plain was the ramp that the Imperial Order was constructing. Without an easy way to attack the seat of power of the D’Haran Empire, the last obstacle standing in the way of their total domination of the New World, Jagang had apparently come up with a plan to build an enormous ramp to get enough forces to the top of the plateau to breach the walls. He planned not simply to besiege the People’s Palace, but to assault it.

At first Richard had thought such a task impossible, but as he had studied what Jagang’s army was doing, he’d quickly become disheartened to realize that it just might work. While the plateau was an imposing height, towering high above the Azrith Plain, the Imperial Order surrounding it had millions of men to devote to the undertaking.

From Jagang’s perspective, this was his last objective, the last place he needed to crush in order to establish the unopposed rule of the Imperial Order. As far as the emperor was concerned, he had no other battles to fight, no more armies to destroy, no more cities to capture. The city on top of the plateau was all that stood in their way.

The Imperial Order—the brutes who enforced the faith demanded by the Fellowship of Order—could not allow the people of the New World to live outside the control of the Order, because it put the lie to the teachings of their spiritual leaders. The Brothers of the Order taught that individual choice was immoral because it was ruinous to mankind. The very existence of a prosperous, independent, free people stood in stark contrast to the foundational doctrines of the Order. The Order had condemned the people of the New World as selfish and evil, and required them to convert to the beliefs of the Order, or die.

Having millions of soldiers with time on their hands as they waited to enforce faith in the Order’s beliefs was no doubt troublesome. Jagang had found a task to keep them all busy, a sacrifice to the cause; they were all now devoted to working in shifts every hour of the day and night at the construction of the ramp.

While Richard couldn’t see the men down lower, he knew that they had to be digging dirt and rock. As those excavation pits grew ever larger, other men carried the dirt to the site of the ramp. In such massive numbers, working without pause, they were up to such a daunting undertaking. Richard hadn’t been in the camp for long, but he imagined that day by day he would soon be able to see the sloping ramp growing inexorably toward the top of the plateau.

“How will you die?” Johnrock asked.

Richard was sick of watching the distant ramp, of contemplating the dark and savage future the Order would enforce on everyone. Johnrock’s question, though, wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine in the gloom. Richard slumped back against the inside of the wheel on the far side of the wagon as he ate eggs.

“You think I will have a choice?” he finally asked. “A say in the matter?” Richard rested a forearm over his knee, gesturing with half an egg. “We make choices about how we will live, Johnrock. I don’t think we have nearly so much say, about how we will die.”

Johnrock looked surprised by the answer. “You think we have a choice about how we live? Ruben, we have no choice.”

“We have choices,” Richard said without explanation. He popped the half of an egg in his mouth.

Johnrock lifted the chain attached to his collar. “How can I make any choice?” He gestured out at the encampment. “They are our masters.”

“Masters? They have chosen not to think for themselves and instead to live according to the teachings of the Order. In so doing they are not even the masters of their own lives.”

Johnrock shook his head in astonishment. “Sometimes, Ruben, you say the strangest things. I am a slave. I am the one with no choice, not them.”

“There are chains stronger than those attached to the collar around your neck, Johnrock. My life means a great deal to me. I would give my life to save the life of someone I hold dear, someone I value.

“Those men out there have chosen to sacrifice their lives to a mindless cause that produces only suffering—they have already given up their lives and gotten nothing of any value in return. Is that choosing to live? I don’t think so. They wear chains that they have put around their own necks, chains of a different kind, but chains nonetheless.

“I fought when they came to take me. The Imperial Order won. Now I am chained here. Those men live, but if we try to be free we will die.”

Richard wiped the remaining bits of shell off an egg. “We all have to die, Johnrock—every one of us. It is how we choose to live that matters. After all, it’s the only life each one of us will ever have, so how we live is of paramount importance.”

Johnrock chewed for a moment as he thought it over. Finally, with a grin, he seemed to dismiss the whole matter. “Well, if I do end up having to choose how I will die, I wish it to be to the cheers of the crowd for how well I played the game.” He glanced over at Richard. “And you, Ruben? If you have to choose?”

Richard had other things on his mind—important things. “I hope not to have to decide the matter this day.”

Johnrock sighed heavily. The eggs looked tiny in the man’s meaty fists. “Maybe not today, but I think this place is the end of the games . . . I think that in this place we finally lose our lives.”

Richard didn’t answer, so Johnrock spoke again into the drone of the downpour. “I’m serious.” He frowned. “Ruben, are you listening, or are you still dreaming about that woman you think you saw when we came into camp yesterday?”

Richard realized that he was, and that he was smiling. Despite everything, he was smiling. Despite how true Johnrock’s words were—that they very well might die in this place—he was smiling. Still, he didn’t want to discuss Kahlan with the man.

“I saw a lot of things when we rolled into this camp.”

“Soon enough, after the games,” Johnrock said, “and if we do well, there will be women enough. Snake-face has promised us. But now there are just soldiers and more soldiers. You must have been seeing phantoms yesterday.”

Richard stared off at nothing, nodding. “I guess you’re far from the first to think that she’s a phantom.”

Johnrock heaved a length of chain out of his way and scooted closer to Richard. “Ruben, you’d better get your head straight or we’re going to get ourselves killed before we even get a chance to play the emperor’s team.”

Richard looked up. “I thought you were ready to die.”

“I don’t want to die. Not today, anyway.”

“There you go, Johnrock, you have made a choice. Even chained up, you have made a choice about your life.”

Johnrock shook a thick finger at Richard. “Look here, Ruben, if I end up getting killed playing Ja’La, I don’t want it to be because you have your head in the clouds, dreaming of women.”

“Just one woman, Johnrock.”

The big man leaned back and flicked eggshells off his fingers. “I remember. You said that you saw the woman you want to be your wife.”

Richard didn’t correct him. “I just want for us to play well and win all our games so that we can have the chance to play the emperor’s team.”

Johnrock’s grin returned. “Do you really think we can beat the emperor’s team, Ruben? Do you think we can survive such a game with those men?”

Richard cracked the shell of another egg on the side of his heel. “You’re the one who wants to die to cheers of the crowds for how well you’ve played.”

Johnrock gave Richard a sidelong glance. “Maybe I will do as you say and choose to live free, yes?”

Richard only smiled before biting the egg in half.

Not long after Richard and Johnrock had finished the last of their meal, Commander Karg appeared, his boots splashing as he marched toward them through the mud.

“Get out here! All of you!”

Richard and Johnrock crawled out from under the wagon into the drizzle. Other captives at wagons to either side stood up, waiting to hear what the commander wanted. Soldiers who were on the team gathered closer.

“We’re going to have visitors,” Commander Karg announced.

“What kind of visitors?” one of the soldiers asked.

“The emperor is touring the teams that arrived for the tournament. Emperor Jagang and I go way back. I expect you to show him that I’ve done well in selecting a worthy team. Any man who doesn’t reflect well on me, or who fails to show the proper respect for our emperor, will be of no use to me.”

Without further word, the commander hurried away.

Richard could feel himself swaying on his feet as his heart pounded. He wondered if Kahlan would be with Jagang, as she had been the day before. While he desperately wanted to see her again, he hated to think of her being anywhere near that man. For that matter, he hated to think of her being anywhere near any of these men.

Over the winter, when Nicci had captured Richard and taken him down to the Old World, Kahlan, in his place, had led the D’Haran forces. She was the one responsible for keeping Jagang from having the victory back then that he might otherwise have had. She had been responsible for whittling down the ranks of Order soldiers, even if the endless supplies from the Old World had included reinforcements that more than replenished all the men lost. Kahlan had not only delayed the invaders, but earned their undying hatred for all the pain she had inflicted upon them.

Were it not for Kahlan the Order probably would have caught the D’Haran army and slaughtered them. She had kept them one step ahead of Jagang and just out of his reach.

Trying to look composed, Richard leaned back against the wagon and folded his arms as he waited. Before long he caught sight of an entourage off to the left making their way through the encampment. They were mov­ing down the line of teams in the distance, pausing at regular intervals along the way to take a closer look.

Judging by the types of soldiers Richard could see making up the group, it could be none other than the emperor that they escorted. Richard recognized the royal guard from the day before when he had rolled through the camp and right past Jagang. That was when he had briefly seen Kahlan. The emperor’s guards were intimidating in their mail and leather and with their well-made weapons, but it was the size of the men and their bulging, rain-slicked muscles that was truly daunting.

These were men who even struck fear into the hearts of the regular brutes of the Order. Those regular troops all fell back well clear of the royal guard. Richard didn’t imagine that such men were at all tolerant of anything they believed might potentially be a threat to the emperor. Johnrock stepped forward to join the other men waiting in a line for the emperor to review them.

It was when Richard saw Jagang’s shaved head off in the center of the ranks of muscled guards that the sudden realization hit him. Jagang would recognize him.

Jagang, as a dream walker, had been in the minds of various people and he had seen Richard though their eyes. Richard could hardly believe how careless he had been not to even con­sider that when he played the emperor’s team in order to get close enough to Kahlan, Jagang would be there, and Jagang would recognize him. Dis­tracted by the thought of actually getting to Kahlan, he hadn’t taken such a prospect into consideration.

Richard noticed something else, then—a Sister.

It looked like Sister Ulicia, but if it was, she had aged a great deal since he’d last seen her. She was farther away, back at the tail end of all the guards following Jagang, but Richard could still see the sagging creases in her face. The last time he had seen her she’d been an attractive woman, although Richard had difficulty separating a person’s looks from their personality, and Sister Ulicia was one sinister woman. No matter how superficially attractive a person was, a cruel personality tainted Richard’s image of them. Corrupt character colored his appraisal of a person to such an extent that he could not see them as attractive separate from their vicious nature.

That was also one of the reasons Kahlan was so beautiful to him—she was not simply stunningly attractive, but exemplary in every way. Her intelligence and insight were matched by her passion for life. It was as if her captivating looks perfectly reflected everything else about her.

Sister Ulicia, despite how physically attractive she once had been, now appeared to reflect only the rot at her core.

Richard realized then that not only would Jagang and Sister Ulicia recognize him, but there would be other Sisters in the camp who also knew him.

He suddenly felt very vulnerable. Any of those Sisters could happen by at any time. He had nowhere to hide.

When he got close enough, Jagang would not fail to see that Lord Rahl, the very man he was after, was right there in his midst. Chained as he was, without his ability to use his Han, even as difficult as it had been for him to call forth his gift when he’d had access to it, Richard would be at Jagang’s mercy.

He had a sickening flash of a vision that Shota the witch woman had given him. It had been a vision of being executed. It had been raining in that vision, much as it was raining now. Kahlan had been there. In tearful terror she had watched as his wrists had been bound behind his back and he was made to kneel in the mud. As he knelt there, with Kahlan screaming his name, a big brute of a soldier came up behind him, promising to have Kahlan for himself as he brought a long knife around before Richard’s face, and then with a mighty effort cut deep through his throat. Richard realized that he was touching his throat, as if to comfort the gaping wound. He was panting in a panic.

He felt a hot wave of nausea welling up through him. Was this to be Shota’s vision come to life? Was this what she had been warning him about? Was this to be the day he died?

It was all happening too fast. He hadn’t been ready for this. But what could he have done to get ready?

“Ruben!” Commander Karg yelled. “Get up here!”

Richard struggled to get control of his emotions. He took a deep breath and worked to calm himself as he started moving, knowing that if he didn’t it was only going to get ugly even faster.

Not far away, the clot of men had stopped at the next team up the line. Richard could hear only the murmur of conversation over the sound of rain.

His mind raced, trying to think of what he could do before Jagang recognized him. He knew that he couldn’t hide behind the other men. He was point man. Jagang would want to see the team’s point man.

And then he caught a glimpse of Kahlan.

Richard moved as if in a dream. The whole cluster of men around the emperor and Kahlan had started turning in the direction of Richard and his team.

Knowing that he had to get up with the other men, Richard started to step over the chain attached to Johnrock’s collar. Just then he had an idea. He hurried forward and deliberately let his foot catch the chain. He fell face-first in the mud.

Commander Karg went red with rage. “Ruben—you clumsy idiot! Get on your feet!”

Richard scrambled to his feet as Jagang’s guards began parting for the emperor. Richard stood up tall next to Johnrock. With a finger, he wiped mud from his eyes.

He blinked to clear his vision. It was then that he spotted Kahlan. She was walking just behind Jagang. The hood of her cloak, pulled up to protect her against the rain, partially hid her face. Richard recognized every familiar movement of her body. No one moved quite the way she moved.

Their eyes met. He thought his heart might stop.

He remembered the first time he had seen her. She had looked so noble in that white dress. He remembered the way she had looked directly at him without speaking—a gaze that was questioning and at the same time guarded, a gaze that instantly and clearly conveyed her intelligence. He had never seen anyone before that moment who looked so . . . valiant.

He thought that he had probably been in love with her from that first instant, from that first look into her beautiful green eyes. He had been sure that in that first look into those eyes he had seen her soul.

Now there was all that, along with a hint of confused concern in her expression. Because of the way his gaze fixed on her, followed her, she was aware that he could see her. Being the object of the Chainfire spell, she wouldn’t remember who he was or, for that matter, who she was. Other than Richard and the Sisters who had taken her prisoner and ignited the Chainfire spell, no one could remember her. Obviously, Jagang was not affected by the spell. Richard surmised that it probably had something to do with a connection to the Sisters. But Kahlan would be invisible to everyone else.

She recognized, though, that Richard could see her. In the isolation imposed by the spell, that had to be something profoundly important and meaningful for her. In fact, by the look on her face, he could see that it was.

Before Jagang could begin to get close enough to inspect the team, a man called out as he ran up to the group. The emperor gestured him forward in a manner that suggested the man was well known. The guards parted for him as he made his way through their inner circle of protection. Since he carried only minimal weapons—a couple of knives—Richard reasoned that he was probably a messenger. He was winded but seemed to be in a great hurry.

When he made it to the emperor, the man bent close, speaking excitedly but in a low voice. At one point in his report, he gestured across the camp toward the area where the construction of the ramp was taking place.

Kahlan, pulling her gaze from Richard, looked over at the man speaking with Jagang.

Richard surveyed a cadre of other guards, closer in, who surrounded her. They weren’t the royal guard, and in fact they were careful to stay out of the way of the imposing royal guards. These men looked more like the regular soldiers of the camp. Their weapons weren’t well made. They had no chain mail or armor. Their clothes seemed to be a collection of whatever they could find that looked the part of the rest of the army. They were big men, young and strong, but they were not the match of the emperor’s guards. They looked more like common thugs.

Richard realized, then, that they could only be guarding Kahlan.

Unlike Jagang’s guards, who seemed unmindful of her presence, these men frequently glanced at Kahlan, checking on her every move. That could only mean that these men could see her. Jagang’s guards never looked at Kahlan, but these men did. Somehow, they were able to see her. Somehow, Jagang had found men to guard her who were not affected by the spell.

At first questioning if he was really right that they could see her, and confused by how such a thing was possible, Richard finally realized that it actually did make sense. The Chainfire spell, like the world of magic itself, had been contaminated by the chimes. That contamination eroded the ability of magic to function. The whole purpose of the chimes was to destroy magic. Because of the taint left by their presence in the world of life, the Chainfire spell’s very makeup had been impaired. When Zedd and Nicci had run the verification web, Richard had discovered the damage to the structure of the spell itself.

Because of that contamination within the Chainfire spell, it didn’t function as designed. It was flawed. It only made sense that such a flaw might allow a few people to escape its effects.

Richard remembered how the plague, sweeping through the population like a wildfire, didn’t touch everyone. There were a few people—even some who cared for the sick and dying—who never contracted the plague themselves. This must be something like that. There were bound to be a few people who weren’t affected by the Chainfire event and would therefore be able to see Kahlan. It would certainly explain why there were guards who could see her.

As those special guards, distracted by the man speaking to Jagang with such urgency, turned to try to see better what was happening with the emperor, Kahlan made a small move to turn with them. It looked perfectly natural; Richard knew it was anything but. As she turned, Kahlan adjusted the hood of her cloak against the rain, and as her hand came back down it passed close to one of her guards. Richard saw that the sheath at the man’s belt was empty. As Kahlan’s hand disappeared back under her cloak, Richard caught a brief glint of reflection off the blade. He wanted to laugh out loud, to cheer, but he didn’t dare move a muscle.

Kahlan caught him looking at her and realized that he had to have seen what she’d just done. She watched him a moment to see if he might betray her. She was using the hood of her cloak to hide her face from those guarding her, to prevent them from seeing that she was looking obliquely at Richard. When he didn’t move, she turned and along with the guards watched what was going on between the messenger and the emperor.

Jagang suddenly swung around and started away, returning back the way he’d come, the messenger right on his heels. Kahlan briefly glanced back over a shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Richard before the guards could all close in around the emperor and his captive.

As she did so, and the hood of her cloak moved just enough, Richard saw the dark bruise on her left cheek.

Hot anger blazed through him. Every fiber of his being wanted to do something, to act, to get her away from Jagang, to get her out of this camp. His mind raced to come up with something, anything, but, chained as he was, there was nothing he could do. This was not the time or place he could act.

Worse, he knew that if he did nothing Jagang’s abuse of her would only continue. If he did nothing, and Kahlan suffered worse, Richard knew that he would never forgive himself.

Despite how desperately he wanted to do something, though, he could do nothing.

He stood silent and still, enduring the rage storming through him, a wrath that was the twin to the Sword of Truth, the sword he’d given up in order to find Kahlan.

Kahlan, the emperor, and all the guards vanished back into the churn­ing grime of the encampment. Curtains of mist seemed to draw in behind them.

Richard stood trembling in bitter frustration. Not even the cold rain could cool his bottled fury. Even as his mind raced through every possible action, he knew that there was nothing he could do. Not now, anyway.

At the same time his heart ached for Kahlan. Agony for what she must be facing at the hands of such a man knotted his insides. His knees felt weak with his fear for her. He had to stiffen his resolve to keep himself from falling to the ground in tears.

If only he could get his hands on Jagang. If only . . .

Commander Karg strode up close in front of Richard. “You’re lucky,” he growled. “The emperor obviously had more important things to do than review my team and my clumsy point man.”

“I need some paint,” Richard said.

Commander Karg blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Paint. I need some.”

“You expect me to fetch paint for you?”

“Yes. I told you, I need it.”

“What for?”

Richard wagged a finger at the man’s face, resisting mightily the urge to whip a length of chain around the commander’s neck and strangle the life out of him. “Why do you have those tattoos?”

Confused, Commander Karg hesitated for a moment, considering the question as if it might have thorns in it.

“To make me look all the more fierce to the enemy,” he said at last. “Such a look gives me power. When the enemy sees our men, they see ferocious fighters. It strikes terror into their hearts. When they freeze for a moment in fear, we triumph.”

“That’s why I want the paint,” Richard said. “I want to paint the faces of our team so that it strikes fear into the hearts of our opponents. It will help us defeat them. It will help your team to triumph.”

Commander Karg studied Richard’s eyes for a moment, as if to gauge if he was serious or up to something.

“I have a better idea,” the commander said. “I will have tattoo artists come around and tattoo my entire team.” He tapped a finger on the scales covering the side of his face. “I will have them tattoo you all with scales and such all over your faces. It will make you all look like my men. When you all have tattoos like mine you will look like my team. Everyone will know you belong to me.”

The commander gave Richard a grim smile, pleased with his idea. “I will have you all pierced as well. You all will have tattoos and metal studs in your faces. You will all look like inhuman animals.”

Richard waited until the man was finished and then shook his head. “No. That won’t do. It’s not good enough.”

Commander Karg planted his fists on his hips. “What do you mean it’s not good enough?”

“Well,” Richard said, “you can’t see those kinds of tattoos from far enough away. I’m sure that they work just fine in battle, when you are in a face-to-face confrontation with the enemy, but it won’t be that way in the Ja’La games. Such tattoos would too easily be missed.”

“You are often as close on the Ja’La field as you are in battle,” Commander Karg said.

“Maybe,” Richard conceded, “but I want us to stand out not only to our opponents at the moment, not just to the men on the field, but also to other teams who will be watching—to everyone who is watching. I want everyone to see our painted faces and instantly recognize us. I want such a sight to plant fear in the minds of other teams. I want them to remember us and to worry.”

Commander Karg folded his muscled arms. “I want you to be tattooed so that you look like my team. So that all will know that it is Commander Karg’s team.”

“And if we lose? If we lose in a humiliating fashion?”

The commander leaned in a little as he glared. “Then you will be whipped at the least, and no longer of any use to me at worst. I think you know by now what becomes of captives who are of no use.”

“If that happens,” Richard said, “everyone will remember that the team you put to death for being inferior were all tattooed just like you. If we fail, they will remember the snake pattern of your tattoo on all of us. It would link us to you, but also you to us. If we lose, you will be stigmatized by that tattoo. If we lose, every time they see your tattooed face they will laugh at you.

“If we should for some reason happen to lose, paint can be washed off before we are whipped or worse.”

Commander Karg was beginning to grasp just what Richard meant. He visibly cooled as he scratched his jaw.

“I’ll see if I can’t come up with some paint.”

“Make it red.”

“Red? Why?”

“Red stands out. It will be memorable. Red also reminds people of blood. I want them to see us and before anything else wonder why we want to look like we are painted in blood. I want the other teams to worry about that the night before a game. I want them to sweat and lose sleep thinking about it. When they finally come to play us they will be tired and then we will make them bleed.”

A slow smile spread on Commander Karg’s face. “You know, Ruben, were you born on the right side of this war, along with me, I bet we would be good friends.”

Richard doubted that the man truly understood the concept of friendship, or could even appreciate such values.

“I’ll need enough paint for all the men,” Richard said.

Commander Karg nodded as he started away. “You will have it.”