Naked Empire

Chapter 16

The man’s tearful eyes gazed pleadingly up at Kahlan as she stepped in front of him. He had been waiting, alone and without her wishes, for quite a while and as a result was in a state of dire misery.

“You are to come with us,” Kahlan told him in a cold tone. “You are to walk in front of the wagon for now, where we can keep an eye on you. You will obey the orders of any of the others with me as you would obey my orders. You will answer all questions truthfully.”

The man fell to his belly on the ground, in tears, kissing her feet, thanking her profusely for at last commanding him. Groveling on the ground, with that V-shaped notch in his ear, he reminded her of nothing so much as a swine.

Fists at her side, Kahlan screamed “Stop that!” She didn’t want this murdering pig touching her.

He sprang back instantly, aghast at the rage in her voice, horror-struck that she was displeased with him. He cringed motionless at her feet, his eyes wide, fearful that he would do something else to displease her.

“You aren’t in a uniform,” Richard said to the man. “You and the other men aren’t soldiers?”

“We’re soldiers, just not regular soldiers,” the man said with eager excitement to be able to answer the question and thus do Kahlan’s bidding. “We’re special men serving with the Imperial Order.”

“Special? How are you special?”

With a hint of uncertainty in his wet eyes, the man looked nervously up at Kahlan. She gave him no sign. She had already told him that he was to follow all their orders. The man, at last certain of her intention, rushed to go on.

“We’re a special unit of men—with the army—our task is to capture enemies of the Order—we have to pass tests to be sure we’re able men—loyal men—and that we can accomplish the missions we’re sent on—”

“Slow down,” Richard said. “You’re talking too fast.”

The man glanced quickly at Kahlan, his eyes filling with tears that he might have displeased her, too.

“Go on,” she said.

“We don’t wear uniforms or let our purpose be known,” the man said with obvious relief that if he continued it would satisfy her. “Usually we work in cities, searching out insurrectionists. We mingle with people, get them to think of us as one of them. When they plot against the Order, we go along until we find out the names of all those involved and then we capture them and turn them over for questioning.”

Richard stared down at the man for a long time, his face showing no reaction. Richard had been in the hands of the Order and “questioned.”

Kahlan could only imagine what he must have been thinking.

“And do you hand over only those who you know to be plotting against the Order?” Richard asked. “Or do you simply turn in those you suspect and anyone who they know?”

“If we suspect they might be plotting—like if they keep to themselves and their own group, and won’t open their lives to other citizens—then we turn them in to be questioned so that it can be determined what they might be hiding.” The man licked his lips, keen to tell them the full extent of his methods. “We talk to those they work with, or neighbors, and get the names of anyone they associate with, any of their friends—sometimes even their closest family members. We usually take at least some of them, too, and turn them over for questioning. When they’re questioned, they all confess their crimes against the Order so that proves our suspicions about them were right.”

Kahlan thought that Richard might draw his sword and behead the man on the spot. Richard knew all too well what they did to those who were brought in, knew how hopeless was their plight.

Confessions obtained under torture often provided names of anyone who might be suspicious for any reason, making the job of torturing a very busy profession. The people of the Old World lived in constant fear that they would be taken to one of the many places where people were questioned.

Those pulled in were rarely guilty of plotting against the Order; most people were too busy just trying to survive, trying to feed their families, to have time to plot to overthrow the rule of the Imperial Order. Many people did, however, talk about a better life, about what they would like to do, to grow, to create, to own, about their hopes that their children would have a better life than theirs. Since mankind’s duty was sacrifice to the betterment of their fellow man, not to their own betterment, that, to the Imperial Order, was not just insurrection, but blasphemy. In the Old World, misery was a widespread virtue, a duty to a higher calling.

There were others who didn’t dream of a better life, but dreamed of helping the Order by turning in the names of those who spoke ill of the Order, or hid food or even a bit of money, or talked of a better life.

Turning in such “disloyal citizens” kept yet other fingers from pointing at the informer. Informing became an indicator of sanctity.

Instead of drawing his sword, Richard changed the subject. “How many of you were there, tonight?”

“Including me, twenty-eight,” the man said without delay.

“Were you all together in one group when you attacked?”

The man nodded, keen to admit their whole plan and thus gain Kahlan’s approval. “We wanted to make sure you and, and . . .” His eyes turned to Kahlan as he realized the incompatibility of his two goals—confessing and pleasing the Mother Confessor.

He burst into tears, clasping his hands prayerfully. “Forgive me, Mistress! Please, forgive me!”

If his voice was the quintessence of emotion, hers was the opposite.

“Answer the question.”

He brought his sobbing to a halt in order to speak as he had been commanded. Tears, though, continued to stream down his filthy cheeks. “We stayed together for a focused attack, so we could be sure that we captured Lord Rahl and, and . . . you, Mother Confessor. When trying to capture a good-size group we split up, with half holding back to look for anyone who might try to slip away, but I told the men that I wanted the both of you, and you were said to be together, so this was our chance. I didn’t want to run the risk that you would have any hope of fighting us off, so I ordered all the men to the attack, having some cut the throats of the saddle horses, first, to prevent any possibility of escape.”

His face brightened. “I never suspected that we might fail.”

“Who sent you?” Kahlan asked.

The man shuffled forward on his knees, his hand tentatively coming up to touch her leg. Kahlan remained motionless, but by her icy glare let him know that touching her would displease her greatly. The hand backed away.

“Nicholas,” he said.

Kahlan’s brow twitched. She had been expecting him to say Jagang had sent him.

She was wary of the possibility that the dream walker might be watching through this man’s eyes. Jagang had in the past sent assassins after he had slipped into their thoughts. With Jagang in a person’s mind, he dominated and directed them, and even Cara could not control them. Nor, for that matter, could Kahlan.

“You’re lying to me. Jagang sent you.”

The man fell to pitiful weeping. “No, Mistress! I’ve never had any dealings with His Excellency. The army is vast and far-flung. I take my orders from those in my section. I don’t think that the ones they take orders from, or their commanders, or even theirs, are worthy of His Excellency’s attention. His Excellency is far to the north, bringing the word of the Order’s salvation to a lawless and savage people; he would not even be aware of us.

“We are but a lowly squad of men with the muscle to snatch people the Order wants, either for questioning or to silence them. We are all from this part of the empire and so we were called upon because we were here. I am not worthy of the attention of His Excellency.”

“But Jagang has visited you—in your dreams. He has visited your mind.”

“Mistress?” The man looked terrified to have to question her rather than answer her question. “I don’t understand.”

Kahlan stared. “Jagang has come into your mind. He has spoken to you.”

He looked sincerely puzzled as he shook his head. “No, Mistress. I have never met His Excellency. I have never dreamed about him—I don’t know anything about him, except that Altur’Rang has the honor of being the place where he was born.

“Would you like me to kill him for you, Mistress? Please, if it is your wish, allow me to kill him for you?”

The man didn’t know how preposterous such a notion was; in his desire to please her, though, if she commanded it he would be only too happy to make the attempt. Kahlan turned her back on the man as Richard watched him.

She leaned toward Richard a bit as she spoke quietly, so the man wouldn’t hear. “I don’t know if those visited by the dream walker must always be aware of it, but I think they would be. The ones I’ve seen before were mindful of Jagang’s presence in their mind.”

“Couldn’t the dream walker slip into a person’s mind without their being aware of it just so he could watch us?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” she said. “But think of all the millions of people in the Old World—he can’t know whose mind to enter so he can watch. Dream walker or not, he is only one man.”

“Are you gifted?” Richard asked the man.

“No.”

“Well,” Richard whispered, “Nicci told me that Jagang rarely bothers with the ungifted. She said that it was difficult for him to take the mind of the ungifted, so he simply uses the gifted he controls and has them control the ungifted for him. He has all the Sisters he’s captured that he has to worry about. He has to maintain his control over them and direct their actions—including what we started to read in Nicci’s letter—about how he’s guiding the Sisters in altering people into weapons. Besides that he heads the army and plans strategy. He has a lot of things to manage, so he usually confines himself to the minds of the gifted.”

“But not always. If he has to, if he needs to, if he wants to, he can enter the minds of the ungifted. If we were smart,” Kahlan whispered, “we would kill this man now.”

As they spoke, Richard’s glare never left the man. She knew he would not hesitate to agree unless he thought the man might still be of use.

“I have but to command it,” Kahlan reminded him, “and he will drop dead.”

Richard took in her eyes for a moment, then turned back to the man and frowned. “You said someone named Nicholas sent you. Who is this Nicholas?”

“Nicholas is a fearsome wizard in the service of the Order.”

“You saw him. He gave you these orders?”

“No. We are too lowly for one such as he to bother with us. He sent orders that were passed down.”

“How did you know where we were?” Richard asked.

“The orders included the general area. They said that we should look for you coming north at the eastern edge of the desert wasteland and if we found you we were to capture you.”

“How did Nicholas know where we were?”

The man blinked, as if searching his mind to see if he had the answer.

“I don’t know. We weren’t told how he knew. We were told only that we were to search this area and if we found you we were to bring you both in, alive. The commander who passed on the orders told me not to fail or the Slide would be very displeased with us.”

“Who would be displeased? . . . The Slide?”

“Nicholas the Slide. That is what he’s called. Some people just call him ‘the Slide.’ ”

Frowning, Kahlan turned back to the man. “The what?”

The man began trembling at her frown. “The Slide, Mistress.”

“What does that mean? The Slide?”

The man fell to wailing, his hands clasped together again as he begged her forgiveness. “I don’t know, Mistress. I don’t know. You asked who sent me, that is his name. Nicholas. People call him the Slide.”

“Where is he?” Richard asked.

“I don’t know,” the man blurted out as he wept. “I received my orders from my commander. He said that a Brother of the Order brought the orders to his commander.”

Richard took a deep breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “What else do you know about this Nicholas, other than that he’s a wizard and he’s called ‘the Slide’?”

“I only know to fear him, as do my commanders.”

“Why? What happens if you displease him?” Kahlan asked.

“He impales those who displease him.”

With the stench of blood and burning flesh, along with the things she was hearing, it was all Kahlan could do to keep from being sick. She didn’t know how much longer her stomach could take it if they stayed in this place, if this man told her anything else.

Kahlan gently grasped Richard’s forearm. “Please, Richard,” she whispered, “this isn’t really getting us anything very useful. Please, let’s get out of here? If we think of anything, we can question him more later.”

“Get out in front of the wagon,” Richard said without hesitation. “I don’t want her having to look at you.”

The man bobbed his head and scrambled away.

“I don’t think Jagang is in his mind,” Kahlan said, “but what if I’m wrong?”

“For now, I think we should keep him alive. Out in front of the wagon, Tom will have a clear view of him. If we’re wrong, well, Tom is very quick with his knife.” Richard let out a shallow breath. “I’ve already learned something important.”

“What?”

His hand in the small of her back started her moving. “Let’s get going and I’ll tell you about it.”

Kahlan could see the wagon waiting in the distant darkness. Tom’s eyes followed the man as he ran out in front of the big draft horses and stood waiting. Jennsen and Cara were in the back of the wagon. Friedrich sat up on the seat beside Tom.

“How many?” Richard called to Cara as they approached the wagon.

“With the four out in the hills that Tom took care of, and this one, here, twenty-eight.”

“That’s all of them, then,” Richard said with relief.

Kahlan felt his hand on the small of her back slip away. He staggered to a halt. Kahlan paused beside him, not knowing why he’d stopped. Richard sank to one knee. Kahlan dropped down beside him, throwing an arm around him for support. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain. With his arm pressed across his abdomen, he doubled over.

Cara leaped over the side of the wagon and raced to their side.

Despite how exhausted Kahlan was, panic jolted her instantly to full alert. “We need to get to the sliph,” she said to Cara as well as Richard.

“We need to get to Zedd and get some answers—and some help. Zedd can help.”

Richard drew labored breaths, unable to speak as he held his breath against a wave of agony. Kahlan felt helpless not knowing what to do to help him.

“Lord Rahl,” Cara said, kneeling before him, “you have been taught to control pain. You must do that, now.” She seized a fistful of his hair and lifted his head to be able to look into his eyes. “Think,” she commanded.

“Remember. Put the pain in its place. Do it!”

Richard clutched her forearm as if to thank her for her words. “Can’t,” he finally managed to say to Kahlan through his obvious suffering. “We can’t go in the sliph.”

“We must,” she insisted. “The sliph is the fastest way.”

“And if I step down into the sliph, breathe in that quicksilver creature—and my magic fails?”

Kahlan was frantic. “But we must go in the sliph to get there in a hurry.” She feared to say “in time.”

“And if anything is wrong, I’ll die.” He panted, trying to catch his breath against the pain. “Without magic, breathing the sliph is death. The sword is failing me.” He swallowed, coughed, gasped for breath. “If my gift is causing the headaches, and that’s making magic falter in me, and I enter the sliph, I will be dead after I take the first breath. There’s no way to test it.”

An icy wave of terror shot through her veins. Getting to Zedd was Richard’s only hope. That had been her plan. Without help, the headaches of the gift would kill him.

She feared, though, that she knew why the magic of his sword was failing, and it wasn’t the headaches. She feared that it was in fact the same thing that had caused the seal to be broken. The warning beacon testified that she was the cause of that. If it was true, then she was the cause of that and much more.

If she was right, she realized, if it was true, then Richard was right about the sliph—going into the sliph would indeed be death. If she was right, then he wouldn’t even be able to call the sliph, much less travel by it.

“Richard Rahl, if you’re going to throw mud on my best ideas then you had better have an idea of your own to offer in its place.”

He was gasping, now, in the clutch of violent pain. And then Kahlan saw blood when he coughed.

“Richard!”

Tom, looking alarmed, raced up beside them. When he saw the blood running down Richard’s chin, he turned ashen.

“Help him to the wagon,” Kahlan said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Cara put her shoulder under his arm. Tom circled an arm around Richard and helped Kahlan and Cara lift him to his feet.

“Nicci,” Richard said.

“What?” Kahlan asked.

“You wanted to know if I had an idea. Nicci.” He gasped in pain and struggled to get his breath. Yet more blood came when he coughed. It was dripping off his chin.

Nicci was a sorceress, not a wizard. Richard needed a wizard. Even if they had to travel overland, they could race there. “But Zedd would be better able—”

“Zedd is too far,” he said. “We need to get to Nicci. She can use both sides of the gift.”

Kahlan hadn’t thought of that. Maybe she really could help.

Halfway to the wagon, Richard collapsed. It was all they could do to hold up his dead weight. With Tom gripping him under the backs of his shoulders and Cara and Kahlan each holding a leg, they ran the rest of the way to the wagon.

Tom, without the need of help from Cara and Kahlan, hoisted Richard into the back of the wagon. Jennsen hurriedly unfurled another bedroll. They laid Richard out as carefully as they could. Kahlan felt as if she were watching herself react, move, talk. She refused to allow herself to give in to panic.

Kahlan and Jennsen tried to lean in, to see how he was, but Cara shoved them back out of the way. She bent over Richard, putting her ear to his mouth, listening. Her fingers felt for a pulse at the side of his throat.

Her other hand cupped the back of his neck, no doubt preparing to hold him to give him the breath of life if she had to. Mord-Sith were knowledgeable about such things; they knew how to keep people alive in order to extend their torture. Cara knew how to use that knowledge to help save lives, too.

“He’s breathing,” Cara said as she straightened. She laid a comforting hand on Kahlan’s arm. “He’s breathing easier now.”

Kahlan nodded her thanks, unwilling to test her voice. She moved in closer to Richard, on the other side, while Cara wiped the blood from his chin and mouth. Kahlan felt helpless. She didn’t know what to do.

“We’ll ride all night,” Tom said over his shoulder as he climbed up into the driver’s seat.

Kahlan forced herself to think. They had to get to Nicci.

“No,” she said. “It’s a long way to Altur’Rang. We’re not near any roads; picking our way cross country in the dark is foolhardy. If we’re reckless and push too hard we’ll just end up killing the horses—or they could break a leg, which would be just as bad. If we lose the horses, we can’t very well carry Richard all the way and expect to make it in time.

“The wisest thing to do is to go just as fast as we possibly can, but we also have to get rest along the way to be ready should we be attacked again. We have to use our heads or we’ll never make it.”

Jennsen held Richard’s hand in both of hers. “He has that headache, and he fought all those men—maybe if he can just get some sleep, he’ll be better, then.”

Kahlan was buoyed by that thought, even though she didn’t think it was that simple. She stood in the wagon bed, looking out at the man waiting for her to command him.

“Are there any more of you? Any more sent to attack us or capture us? Did this Nicholas send anyone else?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Mistress.”

Kahlan spoke softly to Tom. “If he even looks like he’s going to cause any trouble, don’t hesitate. Kill him.”

With a nod, Tom readily agreed. Kahlan dropped back down and felt Richard’s brow. His skin was cold and wet.

“We’d best go on until we find a place that will be easier to defend. I think Jennsen is right that he needs rest; I don’t think bouncing around in the back of this wagon is going to help him. We’ll all need to get some rest and then start out at first light.”

“We need to find a horse,” Cara said. “The wagon is too slow. If we can find a horse, I’ll ride like the wind, find Nicci, and start back with her. That way we don’t have to wait all the way until we get there in the wagon.”

“Good idea.” Kahlan looked up at Tom. “Let’s get going—find a place to stop for the night.”

Tom nodded as he threw off the brake. At his urging, the horses heaved their weight against the names and the wagon lurched ahead.

Betty, puling softly, lay beside an unconscious Richard and put her head down on his shoulder. Jennsen stroked Betty’s head.

Kahlan saw tears running down Jennsen’s cheeks. “I’m sorry about Rusty.”

Betty’s head came up. She let out a pitiful bleat.

Jennsen nodded. “Richard will be all right,” she said, her voice choked with tears as she took Kahlan’s hand. “I know he will.”