The Scribbly Man

8

Richard, his arms folded over his chest, leaned his shoulders back against one of the small granite columns that stood on each side of the corridor as he brooded. That corridor was the only way into the entry area outside the master bedroom. The single broad corridor led out to a network of passageways. Soldiers were stationed back a ways in that corridor as well as in every branching hall. The large entry area outside the master bedroom was elaborately decorated with raised panels of book-matched crotch mahogany polished to a high luster. Detailed layers of crown molding finished off the look.

Richard’s gaze was locked on the double doors on the opposite side of the entryway. They were carved with ornate designs that mimicked the spell-form the palace itself was laid out to. Kahlan was on the other side of those closed doors. He was beside himself with worry about what was going on and why it was taking so long. If he could, he would have willed the doors open.

As he agonized about Kahlan, he also thought about his meeting with the Estorians. He didn’t trust anything they had told him, even if he had to admit that on the surface it had all seemed to ring true. But these were diplomats who were versed in making any argument sound reasonable. For all Richard knew, they could be lying through their teeth and they could have all been part of an elaborate plot to assassinate him and Kahlan. Richard was no longer taking anything for granted. His suspicious, questioning nature was on full alert.

For the time being, the Estorians weren’t going anywhere. Their tent had been rolled up by the soldiers and put in storage. Meanwhile, Richard saw to it that they all were placed in “guest” rooms and asked not to leave until the situation could be straightened out.

To ensure they didn’t decide to leave, they were being heavily guarded with instructions that they remain confined. Richard didn’t want them wandering off in case more questions came up, or if anything they said turned out not to be true. He especially didn’t want them wandering around loose in the palace if it turned out they were part of an assassination plot.

Richard shifted his weight to his other leg as he waited. The soldiers stationed in the corridors had told him that Shale hadn’t come out yet. Neither had any of the Mord-Sith in there watching over Kahlan.

Since it was deep in the middle of the night, Richard had sent Vika off, against her objections, to get some sleep. She complied, but grumbled as she stormed off like a pouty child sent to bed early.

The constant worry was wearing on him. He considered going in to see what was happening and why it was taking so long, but he didn’t want to interrupt the sorceress if the healing was at a critical juncture. He knew from experience that in the very intense process of healing a seriously injured person, he wouldn’t want someone coming up to tap him on the shoulder and ask how it was going.

Just then the door opened. It was Shale coming out.

Richard rushed across the elaborate, deep-blue-and-orange-carpeted entryway to meet her. She was once again in the black outfit she had been wearing when he had first seen her.

He knew that, with a witch woman, there was no telling what their clothing really looked like or for that matter what they even really looked like. They somehow had the ability to bend things into an illusion, or perhaps it was an ability to alter a viewer’s vision to what they expected to see. Shota had been able to change her appearance at will. From his experience, a witch woman showed you only what she wanted you to see, or what you expected to see, not what was really there to see. Shale obviously had at least some of that same ability. He wondered how much she wanted him to see of her true self.

As she approached, before he could even ask, Shale lifted a hand. “Your wife is going to be fine, Lord Rahl. I am relieved to report that she is past the biggest danger. There is more I will need to do, but for now I want to let her get some sleep. For the rest of the healing she first needs a good night’s sleep.”

Richard craned sideways to look into the room before Berdine closed the double doors. She flashed him a smile that looked more brave than happy. He was able to look past her to see Kahlan lying in the bed, her hands folded over her stomach, her eyes closed. She looked to be resting peacefully. He was also relieved to see that she was in a clean nightdress, rather than her bloody, white Confessor dress.

“What do you mean?” Richard asked, looking back at Shale. “What more do you need to do?”

The sorceress let out a weary sigh. “There was another puncture wound in her right side that we didn’t see before because of all the blood. It was another wound from a claw—like the one that tore up her left arm. I think that whatever attacked her must have impaled her with a claw into her side to incapacitate her while it tore her arm apart with its other claw. It caused a kind of wasting damage to some internal organs.”

Richard’s alarm rose to a new level. “Wasting damage—you mean like from snake venom?”

“Something like that. Fortunately it moves through the victim more like molasses than venom so it’s not as aggressive as a viper’s poison would be. It’s as lethal, just not as fast. I found that it had caused similar tissue damage in her arm.”

“So then she’s been poisoned?”

“Yes… but not exactly.” Shale made a face, trying to think of how to explain it. She looked up when it came to her. “You know how when a cat claws you it may not look very bad, but then in a day or two your whole arm is red and swollen to twice its size?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s something like that. More than an infection and less than poison. I’m able to heal it, but it’s more complicated than simply healing an ordinary wound.”

“But she is well, now?”

“She’s resting comfortably for now. She still has damage and I will need to finish the healing. What is to come is a painful process of tearing apart tissues that have attached improperly after the attack and then setting them right. I healed those things that were urgent and I put her into a deep sleep so that she could rest more easily.

“Rest will help stabilize her so that her body can heal some of the other things on her own. Rest is a great medicine. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, when she has a good dose of that medicine and is strong enough to handle it, I will be able to finish.”

“But in the meantime, aren’t those things not yet healed, or attached improperly, a danger to her?”

Shale smiled in a way that said she found his worry endearing but overwrought.

“Lord Rahl, trust me. I know what I’m doing. Everything is under control and proceeding as it needs to.”

When he didn’t seem all that relieved, Shale pressed the flat of her hand to his chest. He felt the warmth of magic meant to reassure him radiating from that hand through his body. While it was a nice gesture, he didn’t appreciate it.

“I swear to you,” Shale said, taking her hand back, “she is past the danger that threatened her life. When she has rested and regained enough strength I will finish it and you will have your beautiful lady back, good as before. All right?”

Richard nodded as he walked off a few paces, letting his fingertips drag over the smooth surface of the eight-sided marble tabletop sitting in the middle of the entryway. The colorful flowers in the three vases in the center lent a calming aroma to the entire room. It reminded him of the outdoors where he had grown up. He took a deep breath of that fragrance and let it out slowly, relieved to have his agony of worry eased somewhat.

“Thank you, Shale. You’ve saved her twice. First, when you alerted me to how careless I was being, and then with the healing.”

As his grandfather had often warned him, peacetime was sometimes more dangerous than war. He had let his guard down. He could just imagine Zedd’s scowl at him being so careless. He vowed not to let it happen again.

“I’m glad I was here to help,” Shale said from behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder, giving her a more critical look. “Your clothes are black, again.”

She knitted her fingers together in front of her as she twisted her mouth, looking up as she thought how to answer what was obviously a question.

“You don’t know much about women’s dress, do you?”

Richard shrugged at the strange question. “I know what I like looking at. But I have a feeling you mean something else.”

She smiled. “Women don’t like wearing the same dress as another woman to an important gathering—or any gathering, for that matter. It is well known that the Mother Confessor wears a white dress. While not the same dress, I still did not want to come before you both in the great hall appearing to disrespect her by also wearing her traditional white.”

Richard was a bit surprised. “I guess you put more thought into it than I would have.”

“That’s because you’re a man.”

“And why did you come here in the first place?”

She was momentarily caught off guard. “You ask strange questions out of the blue, Lord Rahl.”

“I am the Seeker.” He tapped the hilt of his sword. “I carry the Sword of Truth. I ask those things which need asking. So why did you really come here?”

“I told you, I came to offer the loyalty of the Northern Waste to the D’Haran Empire.”

“I’m not in a very good mood, Shale. That’s an excuse. Tell me the real reason you’re here.”