Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 41

Richard’s eyes came open a little. His mind was in a fog. He was facedown on a cold stone floor, lit by flickering torchlight. The stone walls had no windows to tell him if it was day or night. There was a coppery taste in his mouth. Blood. He tried to think of where he could be, and why. A sharp pain in his side caught his breath when he tried to inhale too deeply. His whole body hurt. He throbbed everywhere. It felt as if someone had given him a beating with a club.

The memory of the nightmare seeped back into his mind. At the thought of Denna, his anger flashed. Instantly the pain of the magic made him inhale in a gasp. The unexpected shock of it made him draw his knees up and let out a moan of agony. He recoiled from the anger, put her from his mind. He thought of Kahlan, remembering the way she had kissed him. The pain melted away. Desperately, he tried to keep his mind on Kahlan—he couldn’t take the pain again. He couldn’t bear it—he already hurt too much.

He had to think of a way out of this. If he didn’t get control of his anger, he had no chance. He remembered how his father had taught him that anger was wrong, how for most of his life he had been able to keep it choked off. Zedd had told him that there were times when bringing the anger out was more dangerous than keeping it in. This was one of those times. He had a whole lifetime of experience at keeping his anger under control—he must do it now. That thought gave him a sliver of hope.

Carefully, without moving too much, he took appraisal. His sword was back in its scabbard, his knife still in its sheath, the night stone still in his pocket. His pack lay against a far wall. The left side of his shirt was hard with dried blood. His head pounded with pain, but felt no worse than the rest of him.

Turning his head a little, he saw Denna. She was stretched out at an angle in a wooden chair with her ankles crossed. Her right elbow rested on a simple wooden table as she spooned something into her mouth from a bowl she held in her other hand. She was watching him.

He thought maybe he should say something. “Where are your men?”

Denna kept chewing for a time as she watched him. At last she set the bowl down and pointed to a spot on the floor next to her.

Her voice was calm, almost gentle. “Come and stand here.”

With great difficulty, Richard rose to his feet and walked to stand where she had pointed. She watched him without emotion as he stood looking down at her. He waited in silence. She stood and with her boot pushed the chair back out of the way. She was almost as tall as he. She turned her back to him as she picked up a glove off the table and worked in into her right hand, pushing the fingers down tight.

Abruptly she spun around, backhanding him across the mouth. The armored back of the glove split his lip open on his teeth.

Immediately, before the anger could grip him, he thought about a beautiful place in the Hartland Woods. His eyes watered from the sting of the gash.

Denna gave him a warm smile. “You forgot the appellation, my pet. I told you before—you are to address me as Mistress, or as Mistress Denna. You are lucky to have me as your trainer—most Mord-Sith are not as lenient as I. They would have used the Agiel at the first offense. But I have a soft spot in my heart for good-looking men, and besides, even though the glove isn’t a very effective punishment, I must admit I rather favor using it. I like to feel the contact. The Agiel is exhilarating, but there is no substitute for using your own hands to feel what you’re doing.” She gave a little frown, her voice hardening. “Take your hand away.”

Richard took his hand off his mouth and held both at his sides. He could feel the blood dripping from his chin. Denna watched in satisfaction. Unexpectedly, she leaned forward and licked some of the blood off his chin, smiling at the taste. It seemed to excite her. She pressed herself against him, but this time she sucked his lip in her mouth and bit it, hard, on the cut. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, his hands in fists, and held his breath until she backed away, licking the blood from her lips with a smile. He shook with the pain, but held the vision of the Hartland Woods in his mind.

“That was just a gentle warning, as you will soon learn. Now, repeat the question properly.”

Richard decided on the spot that he would call her Mistress Denna, and that it would, to him, be a term of disrespect, and that he would never, ever, call her simply Mistress. It would be his way of fighting her, of keeping his self-respect. In his own mind at least.

Richard took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Where are your men, Mistress Denna?”

“Much better,” she cooed. “Most Mord-Sith don’t allow those in training to talk, or to ask questions, but I think that becomes boring. I rather like to talk to my trainee. As I said, you are lucky to have me.” She gave him a cool smile. “I’ve sent my men away. I no longer need them. They are only used for capture, and to hold the captive until he uses his magic against me—then they are no longer needed. There is nothing you can do to get away, or fight back. Nothing.”

“And why do I still have my sword, and knife?”

Too late, he remembered. With an arm he blocked her fist to his face. The act of stopping her brought the pain of the magic. The Agiel came up into his stomach. He rolled over on the ground, crying out in agony.

“Stand up!” Richard choked off the anger to shut away the pain of the magic. The pain of the Agiel didn’t fade so quickly. He came to his feet with great difficulty.

“Now, get on your knees, and ask for my forgiveness.”

When he didn’t move quick enough for her, she laid the Agiel on his shoulder, pushing him down with it. His right arm went numb with hurt.

“Please, Mistress Denna, forgive me.”

“That’s better.” She smiled at last. “Stand up.” She watched him come to his feet. “You have your sword and knife because they are no danger to me, and, perhaps someday you will use them to protect your Mistress. I prefer my pets to keep their weapons, so it can be a constant reminder that they are helpless against me.”

She turned her back to him, removing her glove. Richard knew she was right about the sword: it had magic, and she controlled that. But he wondered if that was the only way. He had to know. His hands reached for her throat.

She continued to slowly remove the glove as he fell to his knees, crying out with the pain of the magic. Desperately, he brought his mind to the picture of the Hartland Woods. The pain eased, and he returned to his feet when she told him to do so.

Denna gave an impatient look. “You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?” Her face softened, the smooth smile returning. “But then, I enjoy it when a man makes it hard. Now, you’re doing it wrong. I told you that to make the pain stop, you should think something pleasant about me. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re thinking about some boring trees. This is your last warning. Either think something pleasant about me, to stop the pain of the magic, or I will leave you in the agony of it all night. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress Denna.”

Her smile widened. “That was very good. See? You can be trained. Just remember, something pleasant about me.” She took his hands and gazed into his eyes as she pressed his hands to her breasts. “I find most men seem to focus their pleasant thoughts here.” She leaned closer, still holding his hands against her, her voice becoming airy. “But if there’s anything you like better, please feel free to let your mind go there instead.” Richard decided that he thought her hair was pretty, and that that was the only place on her his mind was going to go to think anything pleasant. The pain unexpectedly took him to his knees, tightening its grip until he couldn’t breathe. His mouth opened, but he could get no air. His eyes bulged.

“Now, show me you can do as you were told. Shut the pain off any time you wish, but do it in the way I told you.”

He looked up at her, at her hair. His vision was blurring. With concentration, he thought about how attractive he thought her braid was. He forced himself to think of it as beautiful. The pain lifted, and he collapsed to his side, gasping for air.

“Stand up.” He did as he was told, still struggling to breathe. “That was the proper way to do it. See to it that is the only way you dare to remove the pain in the future, or I will change the magic so you will be unable to remove it at all. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress Denna.” He was still catching his breath. “Mistress Denna, you said someone betrayed me. Who was it?”

“One of your own.”

“None of my friends would do that, Mistress Denna.”

She regarded him contemptuously. “Then I would guess they aren’t really your friends, now, are they?”

He looked at the floor, a lump in his throat. “No, Mistress Denna, but who was it?”

She shrugged. “Master Rahl didn’t think it important enough to tell me. The only thing that is important for you to know, now, is that no one is going to rescue you. You are never going to be free again. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will go for you—the easier your training will be.”

“And what is the purpose of my training, Mistress Denna?”

The smile returned to her face. “To teach you the meaning of pain. To teach you that your life is no longer yours, that it is mine, and I can do anything I want with it. Anything. I can hurt you in any way I want, for as long as I want, and no one is going to help you but me. I’m going to teach you that every moment you have without pain is a moment only I can grant you. You are going to learn to do as I say without question, without hesitation, no matter what it is. You are going to learn to beg for anything you get.

“After a few days of training here, and I think you have made enough progress, then I will take you to another place, where there are other Mord-Sith, and I will continue training you there until I’m finished, no matter how long it takes. I will let some of the other Mord-Sith play with you, so you can see how lucky you are to have me. I rather like men. Some of the others hate them. I will let some of them have you for a while, so you can see how gentle I really am.”

“And what is the purpose of this training, Mistress Denna? To what end? What is it you want?”

She seemed to genuinely enjoy telling him these things. “You are someone special. Master Rahl himself wants you trained.” Her smiled widened. “He asked for me. I would guess he has something he wants to ask you. I will not let you embarrass me in his eyes. When I’m done with you, you will beg to tell him anything he wants to know. When he is finished with you, then you are to be mine, for life. However long that may be.”

Richard had to concentrate on her hair, had to fight to keep the anger down. He knew what Darken Rahl wanted to know—he wanted to know about the Book of Counted Shadows. The box was safe. Kahlan was safe. Nothing else mattered. Denna could kill him, for all he cared. In fact, it would be doing him a favor.

Denna walked around him, looking him up and down. “If you prove to be a good pet, I may even choose you for my mate.” She stopped in front of him, put her face close to his, gave him a coy smile. “Mord-Sith mate for life.” Her smile showed her teeth. “I’ve had many mates. But don’t get yourself too excited by the prospect, my pet,” she breathed. “I doubt you will find it to be an experience you enjoy, if you live through it. None of the others have. They all died after a short time as my mate.”

Richard didn’t think that was anything he had to worry about. Darken Rahl wanted the book. If he didn’t find a way to escape, Darken Rahl was going to kill him, in the same way he had killed Richard’s father, and Giller. The most he would learn from reading Richard’s entrails was where that place was—inside Richard’s head—and there was no way any amount of the reading of his entrails was going to read the book out to him. Richard only hoped he could live long enough to see the look of surprise on Darken Rahl’s face when he realized he had made a fatal mistake.

No book. No box. Darken Rahl was a dead man. That was all that mattered.

As for the question of him being betrayed, he decided that he didn’t believe it. Darken Rahl knew the Wizard’s Rules, and he was just using the first, trying to make him afraid of the possibility. The first step to believing. Richard decided that he was not going to be tricked by the Wizard’s First Rule. He knew Zedd and Chase and Kahlan. He would not believe Darken Rahl over his friends.

“By the way, where did you get the Sword of Truth?”

He looked right into her eyes. “I bought it from the last man who had it, Mistress Denna.”

“Is that so? What did you have to give for it?”

Richard held her eyes. “Everything I had. It would appear it is to also cost me my freedom, and probably my life.”

Denna laughed. “You have spirit. I love breaking a man with spirit. Do you know why Master Rahl picked me?”

“No, Mistress Denna.”

“Because I am relentless. I may not be as cruel as some of the others, but I enjoy breaking a man more than any of them. I love hurting my pets more than anything else in life. I live to do it.” She arched an eyebrow and smiled. “I don’t give up, I don’t tire of it, and I don’t ease up. Ever.”

“I am honored, Mistress Denna, to be in the hands of the best.”

She put the Agiel against the cut on his lip and held it there until he was on his knees and tears ran from his eyes. “That is the last flippant thing I ever want to hear from you.” She took the Agiel away and kneed him in his mouth, knocking him sprawling on his back. She pressed the Agiel against his stomach. Before he passed out, she pulled it away. “What do you have to say?”

“Please, Mistress Denna,” he managed with the greatest of effort, “forgive me.”

“All right, get up. It’s time to begin your training.”

She went to the table and retrieved something. She pointed to a spot on the floor. “Stand there. Now!”

Richard moved as fast as he could. He couldn’t straighten himself—the pain wouldn’t allow it. He stood on the spot, breathing hard, sweating. She handed him something with a thin chain attached. It was a collar made of leather, the same color as she wore.

Her voice lost its pleasant quality. “Put it on.”

Richard was in no condition to ask questions. He realized that he was starting to believe he would do anything to avoid the touch of the Agiel. He buckled the collar around his neck. Denna picked up the chain. The end of it had a loop of metal, which she slipped over the post on the back of the wooden chair.

“The magic will punish you for going against my wishes. When I place this chain somewhere, it is my wish for it to stay there until I remove it. I want you to learn that you are helpless to remove it.” She pointed at the door, which stood open. “For the next hour, I want you to try your best to make it to that doorway. If you don’t try your hardest, this is what I will do for the rest of the hour.” She put the Agiel to the side of his neck until he was on his knees, screaming in agony, and begging for her to stop. She took it away and told him to begin, then went to lean, arms folded, against a wall.

The first thing he did was simply to try to walk to the door. The pain buckled his legs before he was able to put even a little tension on the chain, and stopped only when he scooted backward toward the chair.

Richard reached for the ring. The pain of the magic cramped his arms until he was shaking with the strain of reaching for it. Sweat ran off his face. He tried backing to the chair, then turning, but before his fingers could touch the chain, the pain took him to the ground again. He pushed against the pain, straining to reach the chair, but couldn’t get there past the pain, the effort causing him to fall to the ground, vomiting blood. When it ended, he held himself up with one hand, tears dripping from his face as he held his stomach with his other hand and shook. From the corner of his eye, he saw Denna unfold her arms and stand up straight. He started moving again.

What he was doing was clearly not going to work. He had to think of something else. He drew the sword, thinking to lift the chain. For a brief instant, and with the greatest effort, he managed to touch the chain with the blade. The pain made him drop the sword. He was able to stop the hurt only by putting the sword back in its scabbard.

A thought came to him. He lay down on the ground, and in a quick movement, kicked the chair out from under the chain before the pain could paralyze him. The chair skidded across the floor, hit the table, and fell over. The chain fell from the post.

The victory lasted only the briefest of moments. With the chain off the chair, the pain elevated to a new height. He choked and gasped against the floor. With all his effort, he clawed his way across the stone. Each inch he moved only increased the pain until he was blinded by it. His eyes felt as if they would explode from his head. He had managed to move only about two feet. He didn’t know what to do—the pain wouldn’t let him move, and it was keeping him from thinking.

“Please, Mistress Denna,” he whispered with all his strength, “help me. Please help me.” He realized he was crying, but didn’t care. He only wanted the chain back on the chair so the pain would stop.

He heard her boots walking toward him. She bent and picked up the chair, righted it, and replaced the loop. His pain lifted, but he couldn’t stop crying as he rolled onto his back.

She stood over him with her hands on her hips. “That was only fifteen minutes, but since I had to come help you, the hour starts over. The next time I have to come help you, it will be two hours.” She bent and pushed the Agiel against his stomach, making pain bloom inside him. “Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress Denna,” he cried. He was afraid there was a way to escape, and afraid of what would happen to him if he found it, and afraid of not trying. If there was a way, by the end of the hour, he had not found it.

She came and stood over him as he rested on his hands and knees. “Do you think you understand now? Do you understand what will happen if you try to escape?”

“Yes, Mistress Denna.” And he really did. There was no way for him to ever get away. Hopelessness closed around him, feeling as if it would suffocate him. He wanted to die. He thought about the knife at his belt.

“Stand up.” As if reading, his mind, she spoke softly. “If you should think you would end your service as my pet, think again. The magic will prevent it, the same as it prevents you from moving the chain from where I put it.” Richard blinked numbly at her. “There is no way for you to escape me, not even through death. You will be mine as long as I choose to let you live.”

“That won’t be long, Mistress Denna. Darken Rahl is going to kill me.”

“Perhaps. But even if he does, it will only be after you tell him what he wants to know. What I want is for you to answer his questions, and you are going to do what I want without hesitation.” Her brown eyes had the hardness of steel. “You may not believe that right now, but you have no idea how good I am at training people. I have never failed to break a man. You may think you will be the first, but you will soon be begging to please me.”

The first day with her wasn’t over, and already Richard knew he would do almost anything she said. She had weeks left to train him. If he could have willed himself to die on the spot, he would have done it. The worst thing was knowing she was right—there was nothing he could do to stop her. He was at her mercy, and he didn’t think she had a shred of it.

“I understand, Mistress Denna. I believe you.” Her pleasant smile made him need to think of how pretty her braid was.

“Good. Now, take off your shirt.” Her smile widened at the puzzled look on his face, and the way he started unbuttoning his shirt nonetheless. She held the Agiel in front of his eyes. “It’s time to teach you all the things the Agiel can do. If you leave your shirt on, it will be covered in blood, and I won’t be able to find a fresh spot on you. You are going to see why the outfit I wear is this color.”

He pulled his shirttail out. He was breathing hard, in a near panic. “But Mistress Denna, what have I done wrong?”

She cupped a hand to the side of his face with mock concern. “Why, don’t you know?” He shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “You have let yourself be captured by a Mord-Sith. You should have killed all my men with your sword. I think you could have done it. You were very impressive, as far as you went. Then you should have used your knife or your bare hands to kill me, while I was vulnerable, before I had control of your magic. You should have never given me the chance to take control of the magic from you. You should have never tried to use it against me.”

“But why must you use the Agiel on me, now?”

She laughed. “Because I want you to learn. Learn that I can do whatever I want, and there is no way for you to stop me. You must learn that you are totally helpless, and that if you enjoy any time without pain, it is only because I choose it. Not you.” The smile left her face. She went to the table, returned with manacles held with a length of chain. “Now. You have a problem that annoys me. You keep falling down. We are going to fix that. Put these on.”

She threw them at him. He struggled to control his breathing as he latched each iron band to a shaking wrist. Denna dragged the chair over to a beam, made him stand under it. She stood on the chair to hook the chain to an iron peg.

“Stretch up. It doesn’t reach yet.” He had to stand on his toes and stretch before she could get it hooked. “There.” She smiled. “Now we won’t have any more problems with you falling down.”

Richard hung from the chain, trying to control his terror, the iron bands digging into his wrists because of his own weight. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop her before, but this was different. It amplified his helplessness, made him all the more aware that there was no way for him to fight back. Denna pulled on her gloves, walked around him several times, tapping the Agiel against her hand, prolonging his anxiety.

If only he had been killed trying to stop Darken Rahl—that was a price he had been prepared to pay. This was different. This was death without dying. Living death. He was not even to be allowed the dignity of fighting back. He knew what the Agiel felt like—he didn’t need her to show him anymore. She was only doing this to take away his pride, his self-respect. To break him.

Denna tapped the Agiel against his chest and back as she continued walking around him. Each touch of it was like a dagger knifing into him. Each touch made him cry out in pain and twist on the chain—and he knew she hadn’t even really begun yet. The first day was still not over, and there would be many more to come. He cried at his helplessness.

Richard imagined his sense of self, his dignity, as a living thing, saw it in his mind. He imagined a room. A room that was impervious to anything, to any harm. He put his dignity, his self respect, into that room, and locked the door. No one would have a key to that door. Not Denna, not Darken Rahl. Only him. He would endure what was to come, for as long as it was to come, without his dignity. He would do what he had to, and someday he would unlock the door, and be himself again, even it if was only in death. But for now, he would be her slave. For now. But not always. Someday, it would end.

Denna took his face in both her hands and kissed him, hard. Hard enough to make his cut lip throb and sting. She seemed to enjoy the kiss more when she was sure it hurt him. She took her face from his, her eyes wide with delight. “Shall we begin, my pet?” she whispered.

“Please, Mistress Denna,” he whispered, “don’t do this.”

Her smile widened. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Denna began showing him what the Agiel would do, how if she dragged it lightly across his flesh, it raised fluid-filled welts, and how if she pressed a little harder, they filled with blood. When she bore down, he could feel warm wetness on his sweaty skin. She could also make the exact same pain without leaving a mark. His teeth hurt from gritting them so hard. Sometimes she would stand behind him, waiting until he was off guard before she touched it to him. When she tired of that she made him close his eyes and keep them closed while she walked around him, pressing it against him or dragging it around his chest.

She would laugh when she succeeded in making him think it was coming, and he would brace for it, and it didn’t. One particularly sharp jab brought his eyes open wide, giving her an excuse to use the glove. She made him beg for forgiveness for opening his eyes without being told to do so. His wrists bled from the manacles cutting into them. It was impossible to keep his weight off them.

His anger only got away from him once, when she pressed the Agiel into his armpit. She stood with a smirk, watching, while he twisted, trying to think of her hair. Since putting the Agiel there caused him to lose control of the anger, she concentrated on that area for a long time, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice. Since he didn’t bring on the pain of the magic again, she did it for him, only when she did it he couldn’t turn it off, no matter how hard he tried. He had to beg her to do it for him. Sometimes she would stand in front of him, watching him catch his breath. A few times, she pressed herself against him, hugging his chest, squeezing, the hardness of the leather making every wound it pressed against flare anew in pain.

Richard had no idea how long this torture lasted. Much of the time, he wasn’t aware of anything but the pain, as if it were a living thing, there with him. He was only aware that at some point, he knew he would do anything she said, no matter what it was, if only she would stop hurting him. He looked away from the Agiel. The mere glimpse of it made tears well up in his eyes. Denna was right about herself—she never tired or became bored with what she did. It seemed to constantly fascinate her, keep her amused, satisfied. The only thing that seemed to make her happier than hurting him was when he begged her to stop. He would have begged more, to make her happy, but most of the time he was incapable of talking. Simply breathing was almost more than he could handle.

He no longer tried to keep the pressure off his wrists, and hung limp, delirious. He thought she stopped for a while, but he hurt so much from what she had already done that he wasn’t sure. The sweat in his eyes was blinding him—the sweat running into the wounds caused them to burn.

When his head cleared somewhat, she returned, walking behind him. He braced for what he knew was coming. Instead, she grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked his head back.

“Now, my pet, I’m going to show you something new. I’m going to show you how kind a mistress I really am.” She pulled his head back, hard, until the pain made him tense the muscles in his neck to resist the pressure. She put the Agiel against his throat. “Stop fighting me, or I won’t take it away.”

Blood was running into his mouth—he relaxed his neck muscles, allowing her to pull as hard as she wanted.

“Now, my pet, listen very carefully. I’m going to put the Agiel in your right ear.” Richard almost choked with fear. She jerked his head back to make him stop it. “It’s different from putting it anywhere else. It hurts a lot more. But you must do exactly as I say.” Her mouth was right by his ear—she whispered to him like a lover. “In the past, when I have had a sister Mord-Sith with me, we would both put our Agiel in the man’s ears at the same time. He would make a scream unlike any other. The sound of it is intoxicating. I get chills just thinking about it.

“But, it would also kill him. We were never successful at using two Agiel at the same time in that particular way without killing him. We kept trying, but they always died. Be thankful I am your mistress—there are others who still try.”

“Thank you, Mistress Denna.” He wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for, but he didn’t want her to do whatever it was she had planned.

“Pay attention,” she whispered harshly. Her voice softened again. “When I do this, you must not move. If you move, it will damage things inside you. It won’t kill you, but it will cause irrevocable disability. Some men who move go blind, some are no longer able to move anything on one side of their body, some can’t talk anymore, or walk. But in all who move, something is spoiled. I want you fully functional. Mord-Sith who are more cruel than I don’t tell their pets not to move, they just do it without warning them. So you see? I am not so cruel as you thought. Still, only a few of the men I do it to are able to hold still. Even though I warn them, they still jerk, and then they are left impaired.”

Richard couldn’t hold back from crying. “Please, Mistress Denna, please don’t do it, please.”

He could feel the breath of her smile. She ran her wet tongue into his ear, kissed it. “But I want to, my pet. Don’t forget, hold still, don’t move.”

Richard clenched his teeth, but nothing could have prepared him for it. His head felt as it had been turned to glass and shattered into a thousand pieces. His fingernails cut into his palms. All sense of time shattered apart with everything else. He was in a wasteland of agony with no beginning, no end. Every nerve in his body seared with razor-sharp, burning misery. He had no idea how long she held the Agiel there, but when she took it away, his screams echoed from the stone walls.

When he finally went limp, she kissed his ear and whispered breathlessly in it. “That was a simply delightful scream, my pet. I’ve never heard one better. Except a scream in death, of course. You did very well, my pet, you never moved an inch.” She kissed his neck tenderly, then his ear again. “Shall we try the other side?”

Richard sagged in the shackles. He couldn’t even cry. She pulled his head back harder as she moved to the other side of him.

When she was finally finished with him, and unhooked the chain, he collapsed to the floor. He didn’t think himself capable of moving, but when she motioned him up with the Agiel, the mere sight of it made him do as she wanted.

“That’s all for today, my pet.” Richard thought he might die of joy. “I’m going to get some sleep. Today was only a part day—tomorrow we will get in a full day of training. You will find a full day more painful.”

Richard was too exhausted to care about tomorrow. He wanted only to lie down. Even the stone floor would feel like the best bed he had ever slept in. He looked at it longingly.

Denna brought the chair over, took the chain that hung from his collar, and hooked it over the iron peg in the beam. He watched in confusion, too weary to try to figure out her intent. When finished, she walked toward the door. Richard realized there wasn’t enough slack to allow him to lie down.

“Mistress Denna, how am I to sleep?”

She turned and gave him a condescending smile. “Sleep? I don’t recall telling you that you were allowed to sleep. Sleep is a privilege you earn. You have not earned it. Don’t you remember this morning, when you had that nasty vision of killing me with your sword? Don’t you remember I told you that you would be sorry you did it? Good night, my pet.”

She started to leave, but turned back. “And if you have any thoughts of simply pulling the chain off the peg and letting the pain make you pass out, I wouldn’t try it if I were you. I changed the magic. It will not allow you to pass out anymore. If you pull the chain off, or fall down accidentally, and that pulls it off, I will not be here to help you. You will be all alone, for the night, with the pain. Think about that, if you get sleepy.”

She turned on her heels and left, taking the torch with her.

Richard stood in the dark, crying. After a time, he forced himself to stop, and thought of Kahlan. That was something pleasant Denna couldn’t take away from him. At least not tonight. He made himself feel good by thinking of how she was safe, and had people to protect her. Zedd, and Chase, and soon Michael’s army. He envisioned her where she must be, at a camp somewhere, right now, with Siddin and Rachel, taking care of them, telling them stories, making them laugh.

He smiled at the vision of her in his mind. He savored the memory of her kiss, the feel of her against him. Even if he wasn’t with her, she could still make him smile, make him happy. What happened to him didn’t matter. She was safe. That was all that counted. Kahlan, and Zedd, and Chase, were safe, and they had the last box. Darken Rahl was going to die, and Kahlan was going to live.

After it was over, what did it matter what happened to him? He might as well be dead. Denna, or Darken Rahl, would see to that. He had only to endure the pain until then. He could do that. What did it matter? Nothing Denna could do could match the pain of knowing that he couldn’t be with Kahlan. The woman he loved. The woman he loved, who would choose another.

He was glad he was going to be dead before then. Maybe he could do something to hurry it along—it certainly didn’t take much to make Denna angry. If he moved the next time she put the Agiel in his ear, he would be permanently impaired—then maybe he would be of no use to her. Maybe she would kill him then. He had never felt so alone in his life.

“I love you, Kahlan,” he whispered into the dark.

As Denna had promised, the next day was worse. She seemed well rested, and anxious to work off some of her energy at the task of breaking him. He knew there was one thing he had control over, a choice in. He waited for her to use the Agiel in his ear again, so he could jerk his head with all his strength, and cause serious damage, but she never did, as if she sensed what he might do. That gave him a shred of hope—it was something he had made her do. He had made her not use the Agiel in that way. She didn’t have all the control she thought she did—he still was able to force her to do something by his own choice. The thought heartened him. The thought of how he had locked his self-respect, his dignity, away in his secret room gave him the ability to do what was necessary. He let himself do as she wished, when she wished it.

The only time Denna paused was a few times to sit at the table to eat. She would watch him while she slowly ate fruit, smiling to herself when he moaned. He was given nothing to eat, only water from a cup she held for him after she was finished with her meal.

At the end of the day she hooked his chain to the beam again and made him stand for the night. He didn’t bother to ask why—it didn’t matter. She was going to do as she wished and there was nothing he could do to change it.

In the morning when she returned with the torch, he was still standing, but barely. She seemed in a good mood.

“I want a good-morning kiss.” She smiled. “I expect you to return it. Show me how happy you are to see your mistress.”

He did his best, but had to concentrate on how pretty her braid was. The embrace ignited the flames of pain in the wounds she pressed against. When she was finished, and the hurt left him shaking, she pulled the chain off the peg and tossed it on the floor.

“You are learning to be a good pet. You have earned two hours of sleep.”

He collapsed to the floor, asleep before the sound of her footsteps faded.

He discovered that being awakened by the Agiel was a terror all its own. The brief sleep had done little to revive him. He needed much more than he had been allowed. He vowed to himself that he would struggle with all his might to get through the entire day without making a single mistake, to do exactly as she wished, and maybe she would grant him a whole night’s sleep.

He put his effort into doing everything she wished, hoping he would please her. He was hoping, too, that he would be given something to eat. He hadn’t eaten since she had captured him. He wondered which he wanted more—sleep, or food. He decided that what he wanted the most was for the pain to stop. Or for him to be allowed to die.

He was at the end of his strength, felt his life slipping away from him, and awaited the end with longing. Denna seemed to sense his waning endurance, and eased up, giving him more time to recover, taking longer breaks. He didn’t care—he knew it was never going to end, he was lost. He surrendered his will to live, to go on, to hold out. She cooed to him soothingly, stroking his face, as he hung in the shackles, resting. She spoke encouragingly to him, told him not to give up, and promised that when he was broken, it would be better. He just listened, not even able to cry.

When at last she unhooked the shackles from the beam, he thought it must be night again—he had no sense of time anymore. He waited for her to hook up the chain, or throw it on the floor and tell him he could sleep. She did neither. She instead hooked it over the chair, told him to stand, and left. When she returned, she was carrying a bucket.

“On your knees, my pet.” She sat in the chair next to him, took a brush from the hot soapy water, and started scrubbing him. The stiff bristles brought a pain all of their own as they worked into his wounds. “We have a dinner invitation. I have to get you cleaned up. I rather like the smell of your sweat, your fear, but I’m afraid it would offend the guests.”

She worked with an odd sort of tenderness. It reminded him of the way a person would care for a dog. He fell against her, unable to hold himself up. He wouldn’t lean against her for support if he had the strength not to, but he didn’t. She let him stay where he was as she scrubbed. He wondered who the dinner invitation was from, but didn’t ask.

Denna told him anyway. “Queen Milena herself has asked us to join her and her guests for dinner. Quite an honor, for someone as low as you, wouldn’t you say?”

He only nodded, not having enough strength to speak.

Queen Milena. So they were in her castle. He guessed that didn’t surprise him. Where else would she have had time to take him? When she was finished, she allowed him one hour of sleep, to rest for dinner. He slept at her feet.

She woke him with her boot instead of the Agiel. He almost cried at her mercy and heard himself thanking her profusely for her kindness to him. She gave him instructions as to his behavior. He would have his chain hooked to her belt, and was to keep his eyes to her, speak to no one unless they spoke to him first, and then only if he looked to her first for permission to answer. He would not be allowed to sit at the table, but would sit on the floor, and if he behaved himself, he would be given something to eat.

He promised to do as she wished. The idea of sitting on the floor sounded wonderful to him: to be able to rest, and not have to stand, or be hurt. And to be allowed something to eat, at last. He would make sure he did nothing to displease her, or to keep her from giving him food.

Richard’s brain was in a fog as he followed behind Denna, attached to her by the chain on his collar, concentrating on keeping the proper amount of slack. The manacles were off his wrists, but the cuts from them were red and swollen, and throbbed painfully. He vaguely remembered some of the rooms they passed through.

In the room with other people, Denna stopped as she strode around, talking briefly with finely dressed people. Richard kept his eyes on her braid. The braid had obviously been done over for the dinner—the vigorous use of the Agiel caused it to loosen, and freed stray wisps of hair. She must have done it over while she had let him sleep.

He found himself thinking about how beautiful her hair really was, how much finer she looked than any of the other women at the dinner. He knew people were staring at him, at his sword, as he was led around the room by his collar and chain. He reminded himself that his pride was locked away for the time being. This was about getting a chance to rest, to eat, and about having her not hurt him for a while.

Richard bowed and stayed bowed while Denna spoke to the Queen. The Queen and the Mord-Sith gave only a bow of the head to each other. The Princess was at the Queen’s side. Richard thought about how Princess Violet had treated Rachel, and had to return his thoughts to Denna’s braid.

As she sat at the table, Denna snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor behind her chair. He knew what she wanted and sat on the floor, crossing his legs. Denna sat to the left of the Queen, to the right of Princess Violet, who eyed him coldly. Richard recognized some of the Queen’s advisors. He smiled to himself. The court artist wasn’t among them. The head table was higher than the others, but sitting on the floor, Richard couldn’t see many of the gathered guests.

“Since you don’t eat meat,” the Queen said to Denna, “I had the cooks prepare a special dinner I know you will enjoy. Some wonderful soups and vegetables, and some rare fruits.”

Denna smiled and thanked her. While she was eating, a server brought her a plain bowl on a tray.

“For my pet,” she told him, interrupting her conversation only briefly.

The man took the bowl from the tray and handed it down to Richard. It was some sort of gruel, but to Richard, as he held the bowl in his trembling hands, preparing to drink it down, it looked like the best meal he had ever seen.

“If he’s your pet,” Princess Violet said, “why do you allow him to eat like that?”

Denna looked over to the Princess. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if he’s your pet”—the Princess smiled—“he should eat off the floor, without his hands.”

Denna grinned, a glint in her eye. “Do as she says.”

“Put it on the floor,” Princess Violet said, “and eat it like a dog, for us all to see. Let everyone see that the Seeker is no better than a dog.”

Richard was too hungry to do anything to lose his meal. He concentrated on a mental image of Denna’s braid and set the bowl carefully on the floor as he glanced into Princess Violet’s eyes, to her smirk, and ate the gruel to the sound of laughter. He licked the bowl clean, telling himself it was because he needed the strength, in case he ever got the chance to use it.

After the Queen and her guests had finished eating, a man in chains was brought in and made to stand in the center of the room. Richard recognized him. He was one of the men Kahlan had freed from the dungeon. They exchanged a brief look of understanding, despair.

There was talk of crimes and foul deeds done. Richard did his best to ignore it—he knew it was merely a pretext. The Queen gave a short lecture on the man’s crimes, then turned to the Princess.

“Perhaps the Princess would like to pronounce this man’s punishment?”

Princess Violet stood, beaming. “For his crimes against the Crown, one hundred lashes. Then, for his crimes against the people, his head.”

A murmur of agreement swept the room. Richard felt sick, but at the same time he wished he could exchange places with the man. The one hundred lashes would be easy, and there would be an axe at the end of it.

Princess Violet turned to Denna as she sat back down. “Sometime I would enjoy seeing how you handle your punishments.”

“Stop down anytime you wish.” Denna glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll let you watch.”

When they were back in the stone room, Denna wasted no time in getting his shirt off, and he was soon hanging from the beam again. She coolly informed him that his eyes had strayed too much at dinner. Richard’s heart sank. The shackles around his wrists burned into his flesh once more. Denna’s talents had him covered in sweat in no time, gasping for air, crying out in agony. She told him it was still early and she wanted to get in a lot of training before the evening ended.

Richard’s muscles flexed and tightened, lifting him off the floor as Denna twisted the Agiel into his back. He begged her to stop, but she didn’t. When he sagged once more in the shackles, he saw a silhouette in the doorway.

“I like the way you can make him beg,” Princess Violet said.

The Mord-Sith smiled to her. “Come closer, my dear, and I’ll show you more.”

Denna hugged him with one arm, pressing herself into his wounds. She kissed his ear and whispered to him. “Let’s show the Princess how well you can beg, shall we?”

Richard vowed to himself he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t long before he broke his vow. Denna put on a demonstration for Princess Violet, showing her the different ways she could hurt him. She seemed proud to show off her talents.

“Can I try?” the Princess asked.

Denna looked down at her a moment. “Why, of course, my dear. I’m sure my pet wouldn’t mind.” She smiled at him. “Now would you?”

“Please, Mistress Denna, don’t let her. Please. She’s just a little girl. I’ll do anything you say, but don’t let her. Please.”

“There, you see, my dear, he doesn’t mind at all.”

Denna handed her the Agiel.

Princess Violet stood grinning up at him while she fingered the Agiel. Experimentally, she poked it at his thigh muscle, happy at the way it made him flinch in pain. Pleased with the results, she walked around him, poking it into his flesh.

“It’s easy!” she said. “I never thought it would be this easy to make someone bleed.”

Denna stood with her arms folded across her breasts, watching him with a smile while the Princess became bolder. It wasn’t long before her cruelty came fully to the surface. She delighted in her new game.

“Remember what you did to me?” she asked him. She jabbed the Agiel into his side. “Remember how you embarrassed me? I guess you’re getting what you deserve, don’t you think?” Richard kept his teeth clenched tightly together. “Answer me! Don’t you think this is what you deserve?”

Richard kept his eyes closed as he tried to control his grip on the pain.

“Answer me! And then beg me to stop. I want to do it while you beg.”

“You better answer her,” Denna said. “She seems to learn fast.”

“Please, Mistress Denna, don’t teach her this. What you are doing to her is worse than what you are doing to me. She’s only a little girl. Please don’t do this to her. Don’t let her learn these things.”

“I’ll learn what I please. You better start begging. Right now!”

Even though he knew he was only making it worse for himself, Richard waited until he could absolutely bear it no longer before he let himself answer. “I’m sorry, Princess Violet,” he gasped. “Please forgive me. I was wrong.”

Richard found that answering her was a mistake—it only seemed to excite her. It didn’t take her long, though, before she learned to make him beg, and cry, even though he tried not to. Richard couldn’t believe the absurdity of a little girl doing this. Much less enjoying it. This was madness.

She held the Agiel against his stomach while she leered up at him. “But this is less than that Confessor deserves. She will get more than this someday. And I’m going to be the one to do it. My mother said I get to be the one when she comes back. I want you to beg me to hurt her. Let’s hear you beg me to chop off the Mother Confessor’s head.”

Richard had no idea what it was, but something inside him came awake.

Princess Violet gritted her teeth and jammed the Agiel into his gut hard as she could, twisting it. “Beg me! Beg me to kill that ugly Kahlan!”

The pain made Richard scream at the top of his lungs.

Denna stepped between them, snatching the Agiel from Princess Violet’s hand. “Enough! You will kill him if you use the Agiel in that way.”

“Thank you, Mistress Denna,” he panted. He felt a peculiar affection for her, at the way she stepped to his defense.

Princess Violet took a step back, her face a picture of bad temper. “I don’t care if I kill him!”

Denna’s voice was cool and authoritative. “Well, I do. He is too valuable to waste in this manner.” Denna was clearly the one in charge around here. Not the Princess, not even the Queen. Denna was an agent of Darken Rahl.

Princess Violet glared at him. “My mother says that Confessor Kahlan will come back and that we’ll have a surprise for her the next time she comes here. I just want you to know because my mother said you’ll be dead by then. My mother says I get to decide what to do to her. First, I’m going to cut off her hair.” Her hands were in fists, her face red. “Then I’m going to let all the guards rape her, every one! Then I’m going to put her in the dungeon for a few years so they’ll have someone to play with! Then when I get tired of hurting her, I’ll have her head chopped off and put it on a pole where I can watch it rot!”

Richard actually felt sorry for the little Princess. The sadness for her came over him in a wave. At that feeling, he was surprised to feel the thing in him that had come awake rise up.

Princess Violet squeezed her eyes shut and stuck her tongue out far as she could.

It was like a red flag.

The strength of the awakened power exploded through him.

When his boot came up under her jaw he could feel it shatter like a crystal goblet on a stone floor. The impact of the blow lifted the Princess into the air. Her own teeth severed her tongue before they, too, shattered. She landed on her back, a good distance away, trying to scream through the gushing blood.

Denna’s eyes snapped to him. For an instant, he saw fear pass across them. Richard had no idea how he was able to what he had done, why the magic hadn’t stopped him, and from the look on Denna’s face, he knew he shouldn’t have been able to do it.

“I warned her before,” Richard said, holding Denna’s glare. “Promise made. Promise kept.” He smiled. “Thank you, Mistress Denna, for saving my life. I owe you.”

She stared at him a moment before her expression turned dark. She stalked out of the room. He watched the Princess writhing on the floor as he hung in the shackles.

“Turn over, Violet, or you’ll drown in your own blood. Turn over!”

The Princess managed to flip herself over, a red pool spreading under her. Men appeared in a rush, tending to her. Denna watched. They lifted her carefully, carrying her away. He could hear their urgent voices fading, disappearing down the hall.

And then he was alone with Denna.

The strap hinges creaked as she pushed the door closed with one long-nailed finger. Richard had learned over the last few days that Denna truly did have a perverse kindness to her. He had learned to interpret the way she used the Agiel, to interpret her mood through it. Sometimes when she was hurting him he could tell she was holding back out of a twisted caring for him. He knew it was insane, but he understood that there were times she felt she was sharing her feelings for him by doing her worst. He knew, too, that tonight she was going to do her worst.

She stood by the door, watching him. Her voice was soft. “You are a very rare person, Richard Cypher. Master Rahl warned me about you. Warned me to take care—that the prophecies speak of you.” She walked slowly, her boots echoing her steps on the stone, to stand in front of him, close. She looked into his eyes, a slight wrinkle to her brow. Her breath on his face was quicker than normal. “That was quite extraordinary,” she whispered. “Thoroughly exciting.” Her eyes searched his face hungrily. “I have decided,” she said breathlessly, “to have you as my mate.”

Richard hung from the chains, helpless against this madness. He didn’t know what the power was that had risen up in him, or how to call it back. He tried. It did not come.

Denna seemed to be in the grip of something he didn’t understand, as if she were trying to summon the courage to do something, fearing it, yet anxiously wanting it. Her breathing was quickening, her chest heaving, as she looked into his eyes. Incredulous, he saw something the ugliness of her cruelty had never let him see before: she was attractive. Breathtakingly, stunningly, attractive. He thought he must be losing his mind.

Shocked, and strangely worried, Richard watched as she slowly put the Agiel between her teeth. He could tell by the way her pupils suddenly expanded that it was hurting her. Her skin paled. She inhaled sharply, trembling the slightest bit. Denna put her fingers into the back of his hair and held his head. Slowly she brought her lips to his. She kissed him deeply, passionately, sharing the shattering pain of the Agiel with him. With her tongue, she held it between their tips. Her kiss was savage, bestial, as she twisted against him.

Every fiber of his being burned with the torture. His gasp sucked the air from her lungs, hers did the same to him. He could get no breath but hers, she none but his. The pain made him forget everything but her. It marauded through his mind. He knew by the sounds she was making that she was feeling the same agony as he. Her fingers in his hair tightened into fists from the pain. She moaned in suffering. Her muscles tightened with it. It raged through the both of them.

Without comprehending why, he found himself kissing her back just as passionately, just as savagely. The pain was altering his perception of everything. He had never kissed anyone with this kind of lust. Desperately, he wanted her to stop. Desperately, he didn’t.

The strange power awakened again. He tried to reach for it, grasp for it, hold on to it. But it slipped from him and was gone.

The pain was overwhelming him as Denna crushed her lips to his, the Agiel between them, their teeth grating together. She pressed her body to his, hooked a leg around his, clung to him. Her cries of anguish were growing more desperate. He ached to hold her.

As he was about to lose consciousness, she pulled away from him, still gripping his hair in her fists. Tears ran from her eyes as she looked into his, not two inches away. She rolled the Agiel into her mouth with her tongue and held it there with her teeth as she shook with the pain, as if to show him she was stronger than he. Her hand came slowly and took away the Agiel as her eyes rolled back in her head. She gasped for air.

Her brow wrinkled together. Tears from the pain, and from something else, flooded from her eyes. She gave him a kiss. The tenderness, the gentleness, of it, shocked him.

“We are bonded,” she whispered intimately. “Bonded in the pain of the Agiel. I am sorry, Richard.” She brushed his cheek with trembling fingers, the glaze of pain still in her eyes. “Sorry for what I will do to you. You are my mate for life.”

Richard was stunned by the compassion in her voice. “Please, Mistress Denna. Please let me go. Or at least help me stop Darken Rahl. I promise you, I will willingly be your mate for life, if you help me stop him. I swear on my life, if you help me, I will stay without the magic holding me. Forever.”

She put a hand to his chest, to steady herself as she recovered. “Do you think I do not understand what I am doing to you?” Her eyes had an empty gloss to them. “Your training and service will last for mere weeks, before you die. The training of a Mord-Sith lasts for years. Everything I do to you, and more, has been done to me, a thousand times over. A Mord-Sith must know her Agiel better than she knows herself. My first trainer took me for his mate when I was fifteen, after he had trained me since I was twelve. There is no way I could ever live up to his cruelty, or his ability to keep a person on the cusp between life and death. He trained me until I was eighteen, when I killed him. For that, I was punished with the Agiel every day for the next two years. This Agiel. The very same one I use on you was the one used to train me. It was presented to me when I was proclaimed Mord-Sith. I live for nothing else but to use it.”

“Mistress Denna,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The steel returned to her eyes. She nodded. “You will be. There is no one who will help you. That includes me. You will find that being the mate to a Mord-Sith brings you no added privileges, only a great deal of added pain.”

Richard hung helpless in the shackles, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. Understanding her a little only increased his hopelessness. There was no escape for him. He was the mate of a madwoman.

The frown and the smile returned. “Why would you be so foolish as to do what you did? Surely, you must know I will hurt you for doing it.”

He looked at her puzzlement for a moment. “Mistress Denna, what difference does it make? You are going to hurt me anyway. I can’t imagine what more you could do to me.”

Her lip curled in a sneer. “Oh, my love, you have a very limited imagination.”

He felt her grab the tongue of his belt and yank the buckle open.

She gritted her teeth. “It is time we found some new places on you to hurt. It is time to see what you are really made of.” The look in her eyes made him go cold. “Thank you, my love, for giving me the excuse to do this to you. I have never before done it to another, but it has been done to me enough times. It is what broke me when I was fourteen. Tonight,” she whispered, “neither of us is going to get any sleep.”