Phantom: Chainfire Trilogy Part 2

Chapter 42

Kahlan ever so gradually became aware of the bewildering drone of voices, both near and far. She was so dazed, though, that she wasn’t sure if it was real or if she was only imagining it. She knew that some of the thoughts streaming endlessly through her mind had to be her imagination, despite how real they seemed. She knew that she wasn’t one moment in a flowered field among the stars, the next moment in the middle of a pitched battle with desiccated corpses atop horseback, and the next instant flying through the clouds atop a red dragon’s back. It all seemed real, but she knew that it couldn’t be.

After all, there weren’t any such things as dragons. That was only myth.

But if it really was voices that she was hearing, she couldn’t understand the words. They came to her more as disembodied, raw sounds, each tonal pulse resonating painfully with something deep inside her.

What she was sure of was that her head throbbed in a slow rhythm and each time the agonizing beat squeezed, it felt as if her skull would split open from the pressure. As each intermittent cycle subsided, nausea oozed up inside her, only to be forced back into relative insignificance once again by the next, overwhelmingly torturous compression.

Try as she might to open her eyes, Kahlan couldn’t lift her heavy lids. It would have taken more strength than she could call forth right then. Besides, she feared that there might be light, and she was sure that light would hurt like long needles stabbing into her defenseless eyes.

It felt as if some unknown, thick pressure were suspending her, keeping her immobile, while a hidden force tortured her under the throbbing pressure. Trying desperately to escape the grip of it, she attempted to bend her arms, but they were too stiff. She tried to move her legs, or even to lift a knee, but her legs were tightly encased in the cocooning, dense darkness.

A sound, possibly a harsh word, startled her, bringing her closer to the brink of wakening awareness, lifting her up through the numb confusion toward the world of life. This time she was sure that the sounds were voices. She began to be able to make out the occasional word.

She mentally seized those words like a lifeline and used them to help pull herself up out of the dark dregs of unconsciousness. She breathed evenly, concentrating on the words, forcing the throbbing to the background as she listened carefully for each word, trying to string them together into meaningful concepts. She recognized women’s voices, and a man’s voice. A surly man.

The pain of being awake, though, was even more debilitating than the dreamlike suffering she had felt while unconscious. Reality had a way of adding an agonizing dimension to the pain, an inescapable misery, a relentless torment throbbing through her body.

In an effort to get her mind off the pain she was in, Kahlan opened her eyes just enough to peek out and take a careful look around. She was inside some kind of structure. It looked something like a tent made of a pale tan canvas, but if it really was a tent it was much larger than any tent she remembered ever seeing before. Rich carpets hung to one side, looking to serve the purpose of double doors.

She was lying on thick furs that were atop something slightly elevated rather than being spread out on the floor. In the hot, muggy air the furs were making her sweat. At least she wasn’t covered with blankets. She thought that maybe she had been placed there to keep her out from underfoot. There was a chair, with a carved back, opposite where she lay, but no one sat in it.

Several lamps were set around the room on chests while others hung from chains. They did little to chase away the gloomy atmosphere inside the tent, but at least the smell of the burning oil helped cover the heavy stench of sweat, animals, and manure. Kahlan was relieved that the light didn’t hurt her eyes as she’d feared it would.

One of the Sisters paced in the dim light, like a phantom who couldn’t find her grave.

Jumbled, muffled noises from outside drifted through the heavy canvas and carpeted walls of the tent. It sounded like a whole city surrounded the muted sanctuary. Kahlan could hear the murmured drone of men in the thousands along with the clop of hooves, the rattle of wagons, the braying of mules, and the metallic jangle of weapons and armor. Men in the distance shouted orders, or laughed, or cursed, while those closer told stories she couldn’t quite make out.

Kahlan knew what this army was like. She had seen glimpses of it from afar, been through places where they had been, and had seen those that they’d tortured, raped, and murdered. She didn’t want to ever have to go out there, among such savages as she knew these men were.

When she noticed Jagang glance her way, she pretended to still be unconscious, breathing evenly, lying perfectly still, and keeping her eyes almost closed. Apparently thinking she wasn’t yet awake, he let his gaze drift back to the pacing Sister Ulicia.

“It can’t be that simple,” Sister Armina insisted from where she stood beside a table. She lifted her nose in a haughty manner.

Kahlan could just make out the edge of a book on that table. Sister Armina’s extended fingers rested on the book’s leather cover.

“Armina,” Jagang asked in a calm, almost pleasant voice, “can you even begin to imagine how entertaining it is for me to be in the mind of a troublesome Sister that I send out to the tents to be passed around among my men?”

The woman paled as she backed up a step until her back met the tent wall. “No, Excellency.”

“To be there, witnessing their dread? To be in their mind, seeing how completely helpless they are as powerful hands rip their clothes off and grope their bodies, as they are pushed to the bare ground, their legs forced open, and they are mounted by men who consider them of no value except as a bit of lustful entertainment? Men who have absolutely no sympathy for them at all, who don’t care in the least what suffering they inflict in their heedless pursuit of what they want? Can you imagine how satisfying it is for me to be there, in the minds of such vexatious Sisters, to be an eyewitness, so to speak, of their well-deserved punishment?”

Her eyes wide in panic, Sister Armina spoke in a barely audible voice. “No, Excellency.”

“Then I suggest that you stop protesting based not on what you think, but on what you think I want to hear. I’m not interested in your bootlicking. In my bed you may flatter me if you think it will gain you favor, which it won’t, but in this I’m only interested in the truth. Your obsequious arguments will not make us successful. Only the truth will. If you have something worthwhile to say, then say it, but stop interrupting Ulicia to criticize her opinion with what you think I want to hear, or you will again be sent out to the tents sooner rather than later. Do you understand?”

Sister Armina’s gaze dropped away. “Yes, Excellency.”

Sister Ulicia took a settling breath as Jagang turned his attention on her. Her pacing came to a halt. She lifted an arm toward the book on the table.

“The problem is, Excellency, there is no way for us to confirm if the copy inside is true or not. I know that’s what you want us to do, and believe me we’ve tried, but the truth is we can’t find anything that could settle the matter.”

“Why not?”

“Well, if it says ‘position the boxes facing north,’ how are we supposed to be able to detect if that is a true or false instruction just from reading it? For all we know, facing them north could be an accurate copy of the original manuscript, in which case not doing as it says would prove fatal—or it could be a corruption of the true direction and doing as it says would be fatal. How are we to know? You may wish us to be able to come to a conclusion as to the book’s validity just from reading it, but we have no way of doing that. I know you don’t want me to lie to satisfy your request. I’m serving you best by being truthful.”

Jagang eyed her suspiciously. “Be careful, Ulicia, not to cross the line into fawning. I’m not in the mood.”

Sister Ulicia bowed her head. “Of course, Excellency.”

Jagang folded his husky arms across his massive chest and returned to the matter at hand. “So you think that for this reason the ones who made the copies left us this other way to tell the false from true?”

“Yes, Excellency,” Sister Ulicia said, despite looking anxious to be taking a stand that she knew would not please him. Since the emperor could read her thoughts, he would know the truth of what she honestly believed. Kahlan imagined that Sister Ulicia reasoned that her best chance of not incurring his wrath was to be true to her belief. Sister Ulicia was nothing if not smart.

“You believe that this is the real explanation, then, that it isn’t a mistake, but that it was calculated and deliberate.”

“Yes, Excellency. There has to be some way to tell. Otherwise, the successful use of the book would only be the result of chance. The boxes of Orden were made as a counter . . .”

She paused as she glanced briefly Kahlan’s way. Kahlan kept her eyes almost closed into the narrowest of slits so that the woman wouldn’t know she was awake. Sister Ulicia turned her attention back to Jagang.

“They would have reasoned that if it ever became necessary to use that counter it could only be because the situation was desperate, so they would need very badly to know that the book was true or else they risked losing everything they believed in. They would, after all, be using the book to save everything they believed in. If the ones using the counter of the boxes were wrong about the copy they were referring to, then they stood to lose more than just their lives—they risked losing the world of life itself.”

“Unless those who made the copies wanted the false copies to foil a greedy thief,” Jagang said.

“But Excellency,” Sister Ulicia said, “to stop any treacherous plans, those in charge of the boxes would need to have a way to know the true copies from the false. If they didn’t leave such a method to those who would come after them, then they would have abandoned their descendants to survival by chance. Their whole reason for making the copies in the first place was because they were worried about the risks that might develop in the future with having only the original text. After all, the only book in existence would be subject to any number of threats, from fire, to water, to worms, and that isn’t even including the array of deliberate threats. They were trying to make sure that there would be an accurate copy if it ever came to be necessary to use the boxes and the original book was unavailable for reasons they might not even be able to imagine. Risking that future on chance would be counter to their purpose for making the copies in the first place.

“Do you see what I mean? Since they made only one true copy, and the rest false, they were attempting to discourage the wrongful use of the boxes—putting another obstacle in the path of them being used—but at the same time, if the boxes were ever truly needed, they most certainly would not have wanted that call to have been answered by chance. They would have left those coming after them a way to confirm the truth.

“Since the text inside the book is not contradictory in and of itself, it seems to me that those who made the copies would unquestionably have devised another means to determine the true from the false.”

Jagang turned to the other Sister. “Ah, Armina has had a thought. Do speak up, darlin.”

Sister Armina cleared her throat. “We are being asked to believe that a singular rather than a plural word served as their only indication of validity?” Sister Armina shook her head. “While I grant the general point, I believe that this is just too simple an answer, if not far too opaque a message. This means of telling true from false in and of itself becomes chance, too, unless they gave us a way to confirm it.”

“And they have, now, haven’t they?” Sister Ulicia arched an eyebrow as she leaned a little toward the woman. “It’s right there, right in the beginning, where it tells us precisely how to detect if the book is true or not. It says that she must verify it. She has.”

Armina folded her arms. “Like I said, I think that’s just too simple to be the answer.”

“If it’s so simple, Armina, then why didn’t you see it?” Sister Ulicia asked.

Kahlan closed her eyes a little more when Sister Ulicia pointed at her. “She found the flaw. Why did none of us see it? Only she saw it. Without her we probably would not have noticed it or, if we had, we probably would have thought that it couldn’t be important and we would have ignored it. She has done what the book said she must. She found it. She said that it means the copy is a false copy. That is precisely the purpose for which the book itself said she must be used.

“Some of us may not consider that flaw complex enough to be the determining element, but that’s irrelevant. The fact remains that she must verify the veracity of this book and, because of a flaw that only she noticed, she claims it is a false copy. That’s what matters. We have to take that pronouncement as valid.”

Considering the words of each woman, Jagang rubbed a meaty hand back over his bull neck as he paced before the table. He stared down at the book for a time, then spoke.

“There is one way to be sure.” He glared at each Sister in turn. “We find the other copies and compare them. If they all, or only a few, have this exact same flaw in the title, then it would point to it being meaningless. On the other hand, if all but one has this same flaw, then the one that doesn’t would likely be the true copy. We can then compare all the versions of the text and if the one without the flawed title is different from all the others, we will have confirmed that it’s the one true copy.”

“Excellency,” Sister Armina said with a deferential bow of her head, “that is an excellent idea. If we can locate the others, and this is the only one with this flaw, then it would prove my point that it is nothing but a simple, isolated mistake by an ignorant bookbinder.”

Jagang stared at her for a moment before finally breaking eye contact and going to a chest to the side. He opened the top and pulled out a book. He tossed it on the table so that it slid across the top toward the two Sisters.

Sister Armina picked it up and read the cover. Even in the dim light of the oil lamps, Kahlan could see the woman’s face going a deep shade of red.

“The Book of Counted Shadow,” she said in an incredulous whisper.

“Shadow?” Sister Ulicia asked, peering down over Sister Armina’s shoulder. “Not Shadows?”

“No,” Jagang said. “It is The Book of Counted Shadow, the same as the one from Caska.”

“But, but,” Sister Armina stammered, “I don’t understand. Where is this copy from?”

A condescending smile joined his glare. “The Palace of the Prophets.”

Sister Armina’s jaw dropped in speechless shock.

Sister Ulicia frowned. “What? That can’t be. Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” He grunted in derision. “Oh, yes, I’m sure. You see, I’ve had this book for quite some time. That is part of the reason why I allowed you fools to continue in your quest. I needed the same woman you were after in order to find out if this is a true copy or not.

“All the time I had this book I never noticed the word ‘shadow’ in the title as being anything other than what it should be. I just assumed it said what it was supposed to say. But our unconscious friend over there noticed it immediately.”

“But how could you have gotten this from the Palace of the Prophets?” Sister Ulicia asked. “From what we’ve learned, these copies were buried with bones, like in Caska, in hidden catacombs. No catacombs were ever discovered at the palace before it was destroyed.”

Jagang smiled to himself, as if he were explaining things to children. “You think you are so clever, Ulicia, finding out about the boxes, about the book needed to open them, about the catacombs, and about the one person needed to verify the text of the book. But I have known for decades what you have only recently discovered.

“I have been visiting minds for a very, very long time to aid our cause. You would be surprised at all the things I learned long ago. While you Sisters were engaged in palace politics, in battles for power on your own little island, in courting either the Creator or the Keeper, seeking favors in return for loyalty to one or the other, I have been working to unite the Old World in the cause of the Fellowship of Order, which is the true cause of the Creator and therefore the only righteous cause of mankind.

“While you were teaching young men to be wizards, I was showing those same young men the true Light. Without the Sisters even being aware of it, many of those young wizards had already devoted themselves to the future salvation of mankind by becoming disciples of the Order. They spent decades walking the halls of the Palace of the Prophets, right under the noses of the Sisters, while working as brothers of the Fellowship of Order. And I was there in their minds as they read all those restricted books down in the vaults of the palace.

“As a dream walker, I gave them direction and purpose in their studies. I knew what was needed. I had them search for me. As brothers of the Order they long ago found the secret entrance down into the catacombs—it was hidden under an unused and long-forgotten storage area in the older section of the stables. They spirited this book, as well as other valuable volumes, out of the catacombs, and then when I finally arrived at the palace after triumphantly unifying the Old World, they delivered them to me. I have had this particular copy for decades.

“The only thing I didn’t have was a way through the great barrier so that I could get at both the boxes and the means of verification. But then, through their meddling, the Sisters obliged me by doing things that resulted in the destruction of that barrier.

“Now that the Palace of the Prophets has been destroyed, I’m afraid that the catacombs and the books they held have been lost for all time, but those young men searched through most of those hidden volumes, and through their eyes I’ve read most of them. The palace and the catacombs are now gone, but not all the knowledge contained there has been lost. Those young men grew up to become brothers, many still alive and serving in our struggle.

“When I witnessed you hatch your plan to capture the Mother Confessor, I realized I could use that plan to finally get my hands on her and use her for my purposes, so I allowed you to think you were accomplishing exactly what you wanted, while you were, in fact, accomplishing what I wanted. I now have the book, and the Mother Confessor that the book says must be used to confirm their validity.”

Both Sisters could only stare.

Kahlan’s mind spun in confusion. Mother Confessor. She was the Mother Confessor.

What in the world was a Mother Confessor?

Jagang flashed the Sisters a cunning smile. “You have been the perfect fools, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Excellency,” they both conceded as one in small voices.

“So, you see,” he went on, “we now have two copies of The Book of Counted Shadows, and both have the same mistake—the word ‘shadow’ instead of ‘shadows’ on the cover.”

“But this is still only two,” Sister Armina said. “What if all the other copies have the same flaw?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Sister Ulicia said.

“Well, if they did, it would certainly prove something, now, wouldn’t it?” Jagang arched a questioning eyebrow over one dark eye. “I now have two, and they have the exact same error. We will need to have the rest to confirm the theory that one will have the title written correctly, as ‘shadows.’ So, as it turns out we will need to keep the Mother Confessor alive until we can see if she has really found the flaw that will verify the true copy.”

“And if all the copies have the same flaw, Excellency?” Sister Armina asked.

“Then we will have learned that the error in the title isn’t the method for verifying The Book of Counted Shadows. It may turn out that we need to give her access to the copy itself so that she can have a broader basis for making the verification—for making it on things that for now she isn’t able to see.”

Sister Armina lifted a hand. “But Excellency, I don’t know that such a thing is even possible.”

Jagang didn’t answer Armina’s concern, but instead took the book from her and set it beside the one on the table. “The Mother Confessor is still vital to us. She is the only way to verify the one, true copy. We can’t yet be certain that she has done that. So far she made a judgment on the only information available to her. For now, we need her alive.”

“Yes, Excellency,” Sister Armina said.

“I think she might be waking,” Sister Ulicia said.

Kahlan realized that she had been listening so intently that she had failed to completely close her eyes when Sister Ulicia looked her way. The Sister came closer, peering down at her.

Kahlan didn’t want them to know she had heard them call her by the title Mother Confessor. She stretched a little, as if trying to escape the bounds of unconsciousness while she tried to imagine what such a title could possibly mean.

“Where are we?” she mumbled, feigning a groggy voice.

“I am confident that it will soon enough become all too clear to you.” Sister Ulicia forcefully jabbed Kahlan’s shoulder. “Now, wake up.”

“What is it? Do you wish something, Sister?” Kahlan rubbed her eyes with the backs of her knuckles, trying to look uncoordinated and dazed. “Where are we?”

Sister Ulicia hooked a finger through the collar around Kahlan’s neck and jerked her upright.

Before Sister Ulicia could say anything more, Jagang’s meaty hand grabbed her arm and drew her back out of his way. He was intent on Kahlan. His fists seized her shirt at her throat. He lifted her clear of the ground.

“You killed two trusted guards,” he said through gritted teeth. “You killed Sister Cecilia.” His face was going red with rapidly building rage. His brow drew down over his dark eyes. It seemed that lightning might flicker in the cloudy shapes drifting through those black eyes. “What made you think that you could get away with killing them?”

“I didn’t think I could get away with it,” Kahlan said as calmly as she could manage. As she had suspected, her calm only served to provoke his fury.

He roared in unleashed anger and shook her so violently that it felt like it might have torn muscles in her neck. It was obvious that he was a man who at the slightest provocation flew into fits of uncontrollable rage. He was on the brink of murder.

Kahlan didn’t want to die, but she knew that a swift death might be preferable to what he had promised her for later. She couldn’t really do anything to stop it, anyway.

“If you didn’t think you could get away with it, then why would you dare to do such a thing!”

“What difference does it make?” Kahlan asked with calm indifference as his fists on her shirt held her up so that her boots were clear of the ground.

“What are you talking about!”

“Well, you’ve already told me that your treatment of me will be terrible beyond anything I have ever experienced. I believe you; that’s the only way people like you can ever win—by threats and brutality. Because you are such a pompous fool, you made the mistake of telling me that I could not begin to imagine all the terrible things you intend to do to me. That was your big mistake.”

“Mistake? What are you talking about?” He drew her up against his muscled body. “What mistake?”

“You’ve made a tactical error, Emperor,” Kahlan said, managing to stress his title in a way that made it sound like a mocking insult. She wanted him angry, and she could see that it was working.

Despite hanging from his white-knuckled fists, Kahlan tried to sound composed, even aloof. “You see, you have made it clear to me that no matter what I do I have nothing to lose. You’ve made it clear that you can’t be reasoned with. You said that you are going to do your worst to me. That empowers me because I am no longer bound by any hope for mercy from you. In revealing that I have no hope whatsoever for any mercy, you have given me an advantage I didn’t previously have.

“You see, by making that mistake, you showed me that I had nothing to lose by killing your guards and, since I’m to be subjected to your worst anyway, I might as well have my revenge on Sister Cecilia. By making such a tactical mistake, you have shown me that you are not so smart after all, that you are just a brute and can be bested.”

He relaxed his grip just enough for Kahlan to touch the toes of her boots to the ground so that she could gain some leverage.

“You really are something,” he said as a slow, cunning smile overcame his rage. “I’m going to enjoy what I have planned for you.”

“I’ve already told you your mistake, and you repeat it? Apparently, you don’t learn very well, either, do you?”

Before, when he’d pulled her up against him in a rage and had brought her face close to his, when his hands had been firmly occupied holding her in a threatening manner, Kahlan had used the distraction to gingerly slip his knife from the sheath on his belt. With two fingers she’d worked it up into her hand. He had been so angry he hadn’t noticed.

Rather than get worked up into another fit of rage at her latest insult, he began to laugh.

Kahlan already had his knife gripped tightly in her fist.

Without ceremony or warning, she thrust it at him as hard as she could.

Her intention had been to drive the blade up under his ribs, to cut open vital organs, maybe even his heart if she could get it in that far. The way he was holding her, though, hampered her movement just enough so that she missed her mark by a fraction of an inch and instead struck his lowest rib. The point stuck in bone.

Before she had time to yank it back and stab him again, he seized her wrist and wrenched her arm over, spinning her around. Her back slammed against his chest. He had the knife out of her grip before she had a chance to do anything about it. His arm across her throat cut off her air as he held her against his massive muscles. His chest heaved in anger against her back.

Rather than admitting defeat, and before she blacked out from lack of air, she used all her muscle to drive the heel of her boot into his shin. By his cry she knew it hurt. She struck sharply with her elbow directly into the fresh wound. He flinched. As her elbow rebounded from the blow she cocked it forward to gain momentum and then smashed back into his jaw. He was so big, though, so strong, that it didn’t have a disabling effect. It had been rather like punching a bull. And, like a bull, he was only enraged further.

Looking no worse for her attack, Jagang seized a fistful of her shirt before she could slip out of his reach. He punched her in the middle hard enough to double her over and drive her breath from her lungs. She gasped, trying to draw a breath against the stunning pain.

Kahlan realized that she was on her knees only when he lifted her by her hair and placed her back on her feet. Her knees wobbled unsteadily.

Jagang was grinning. His flash of anger had been washed away by an unexpected, dangerous, but one-sided brawl, and an opportunity to inflict pain. He was beginning to enjoy the game.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Kahlan managed to get out as he stood watching her.

“Kill you? Why would I want to kill you? Then you would just be dead. I want you alive so that I can make you suffer.”

The two Sisters made no move to rein in their master. Kahlan knew that they would not have objected to anything he did to her. As long as his attention was on Kahlan, it wasn’t on them. Before he could strike her again, light abruptly flooded the tent, drawing his attention.

“Excellency,” a deep voice said. It had come from the side. One of the big brutes held the carpet aside as he waited. The man looked similar to the two guards she had killed before. Kahlan supposed that Jagang had an endless supply of such men.

“What is it?”

“We’re ready to strike your camp, Excellency. I am sorry for interrupting, but you asked to be told as soon as we were ready. You said that you wanted us to make haste.”

Jagang released Kahlan’s hair. “All right, get started then.”

He swung around unexpectedly, backhanding her across the face hard enough to send her tumbling across the floor.

While she lay on the floor recovering her senses, he pressed a hand to the wound over his rib. He pulled the hand away to see how much he was bleeding. He wiped his hand on his trousers, apparently deciding that it was a relatively minor wound and nothing to be concerned about. From what Kahlan could see of him, he bore a number of scars, most testifying to injuries far worse than the one she had given him.

“See to it that she doesn’t get any more ideas,” he told the Sisters as he headed for the carpet that the guard was holding aside for him.

Kahlan felt fire race down from the collar, through her nerves all the way to her toes. The burning pain pulled an involuntary gasp.

She wanted to scream in rage at having that hot pain yet again ripping through her. She hated the way the Sisters used the collar to control her. She hated the helpless agony they could put her in.

Sister Ulicia stepped closer and stood over her. “That was a pretty stupid thing to do, now, wasn’t it?”

Kahlan couldn’t answer through the stunning pain. What she would have told the Sister was that it wasn’t stupid at all, that it had been worth it.

As long as she had breath in her lungs, she would fight them. With her last breath, if need be, she would fight.