The First Confessor (Sword of Truth 0)

Having forced herself to set aside her outrage and horror, Magda had managed to gather her senses as she had been dragged back to her apartment. She knew that she had to think everything through clearly and deliberately. If she gave in to panic, or worse, resignation, she would be unable to act effectively.

Magda held no illusions about Lothain’s potential for cruelty, so while was worried for Tilly, she knew that she had done everything she could for the moment to give Tilly the best chance. She couldn’t dwell on it.

With a firm plan in mind, she had felt a resolute calm come over her. She knew what she had to do.

“And which material, Lady Searus?” the seamstress asked.

Dozens of bolts of cloth were laid out on two of the couches. There were beautiful prints as well as a wide variety of colors and exotic tone-on-tone fabrics. In addition there were yards and yards of lacework of every sort.

But Magda had spotted the right one the very first moment.

As far as Magda was concerned, there was only one choice among the wide assortment. She wanted no other.

She pointed to a simple, silken material. “This one.”

The woman looked up. Worry returned to etch itself back into her expression. “Are you sure, Mistress? Master Lothain said he didn’t think it should be white.”

“I’m sure that he was referring to a bright white. This isn’t exactly a brilliant white. I’m sure he meant that he didn’t want it to be a glaring white, that’s all.

“Besides, my future husband is not the one who will be wearing the dress. I am. This will be my day. I want to look my best.” Magda smiled warmly and sought to make it clear that she would not be dissuaded. “I think this one, this slightly off-white material, is absolutely beautiful for the purpose, don’t you agree? I love the sheen of it. It’s the most elegant of all the material here. There is none its match. It’s beautiful. I love it. It’s perfect for the purpose.”

“The purpose?”

“My rebirth.”

The woman blinked. The others, getting out shears and preparing all the needles and thread, shared furtive looks but said nothing.

“Rebirth, Mistress?” the first woman asked.

“Yes,” Magda said, her fingers leaving the lustrous material as her gaze returned to the woman staring up at her. “This will be my rebirth into a new person. Marriage is changing from a single woman into a woman devoted to her husband’s wishes, is it not? So, since I am about to be reborn into a new person, this fits the purpose.”

The seamstress smiled, even though she still looked anxious. “I see your point, Mistress.”

“You have all my measurements, then? You’re finished with all that? You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. I’ve had a very trying day. I need to get a good night’s sleep to be ready for the big day tomorrow. For my rebirth, as it were.”

The woman, still unsure, held up a finger before Magda left. “Mistress, about the cut. Master Lothain was very clear that he wanted the dress to show a lot of cleavage. I don’t mean to contradict your wishes, but—”

“Then don’t. My future husband, in his eagerness, is simply getting ahead of himself. He can wait.” Some of the women tittered. “Please make the dress as I have drawn it out.”

The seamstress’s smile widened. “Yes, Mistress. Of course. We have everything we need. The dress will be exactly to your design, I swear. We will finish it and leave it out here for you, and then close the doors on our way out so that you may get your rest. We will not disturb your sleep.”

Magda made herself smile. She touched the woman’s shoulder in gratitude.

“Thank you, ladies. Good night then.”

On her way toward the back bedroom, Magda found the folded pieces of paper in her pocket, along with the collection of small clay figures. It was the gravity spell that Merritt had given to her.

She stood staring at the paper in her hand, the little figures floating in the air above her palm, thinking.

She finally stuffed it all back into her pocket and went through the open double doors to her bedroom.

“Good night, ladies,” she said again as she closed and bolted the white double doors into the bedroom.

Chapter 82

Lothain had told his men that they should remain in the hallway outside the apartment all night to make sure that no one went in and that she didn’t leave. The guards all knew, of course, that they were several stories above the surrounding portions of the Keep. The soldiers in green tunics who had brought her back to the apartment all knew that the only way she would be able to leave was back out through the doors into the corridor where they stood guard.

Since they knew she couldn’t sneak past them, it seemed to her highly unlikely they would have any reason to come into the apartment, much less her bedroom. Lothain was covetous of her. They weren’t going to want to give the man cause to be suspicious of what they might be doing with her. Magda was relatively confident that they would stand guard but not want to come into the apartment without direct orders.

In any event, she couldn’t worry about the off chance that they would come in and check on her. She would simply have to be quick about it. She had to do what was necessary, or she was going to find herself the wife of the new First Wizard Lothain.

Without delay, Magda went to the big maple wardrobe that had belonged to Baraccus. His clothes still hung where he had left them. Magda hadn’t known what to do with them, so she had simply left them there. Before he had killed himself, he had left his war-wizard outfit in the First Wizard’s enclave. The wardrobe held a variety of other clothes, everything from old pants and shirts he wore when working at his workbench to elaborate ceremonial robes. She pushed the ceremonial robes aside to reach in on the side as far as she could.

Magda pushed in the right spot, and the door over a hidden compartment slid open. Baraccus had made the hiding place himself. Reaching inside, her fingers found the knotted rope hanging from a peg. She pulled it out, relieved that it was still there.

There had been times when Baraccus had to meet people under cover of darkness, and for the safety of the men he was meeting, those meetings had to be kept secret. Had he left the apartment by the front door and gone out through the corridors, all kinds of people would have known about it. Whenever he went out in the Keep there were always eyes watching him. He’d said that he never knew the motives of the people who saw him.

If he had been seen leaving the Keep in the middle of the night, word would have eventually gotten around. People would have wondered what he was doing, where he was going, who he was seeing. As it was, as careful as Baraccus had been, it seemed that Lothain had found out about at least some of the late-night meetings.

In an attempt to keep such meetings secret, Baraccus had kept a knotted rope hidden in his wardrobe so that he would be able to leave from the bedroom balcony. It was a drop of several stories, so people would not be expecting him to leave that way.

The rope was exactly the right length to make it safely all the way down to a shallow slate roof. The roof led to a rampart where there were old, unused exterior stairs that were hidden from view. Magda knew how to make her way from there without being seen.

She grabbed a clean, black, hooded cloak and threw it around her shoulders. She went to a cabinet and pulled her shielded travel lantern out by its wire handle. With a long splinter that she lit in one of the reflector lamps on the wall, she set flame to the wick of her travel lantern. Once the wick was adjusted low, she shut the curved metal door and latched it so it wouldn’t give off any light until she wanted it to, then hooked it on her belt.

Magda went to the bedroom doors and carefully checked the bolt to reassure herself that the doors were locked. Across the bedroom, she went out the leaded-glass door onto the balcony. It was heavily overcast and black as

pitch. Fortunately, there were a few lights around the Keep that let her see what she was doing.

Magda knelt at the edge of the balcony and slipped her hand out through the balusters, feeling over the edge for the heavy hook that Baraccus had sunk into the stone with the aid of magic. Her fingers found the hook. She slipped the loop on the end of the rope over the hook, then fed the rest of the rope out between the balusters.

Once she was confident that it was secure, she climbed over the railing and was able to lower herself down and get ahold of the rope. She started down, catching the knots between her feet for support as she carefully descended hand over hand. She had never used the rope before, and it was frightening hanging in midair in the darkness, but she kept her mind on the task and before long she touched down on the slate roof.

She was glad that it was a dark night so that no one would see her leaving.

She followed the rooftop until she reached the rampart, then ran until she found the small opening for the stairs. With no time to waste, she took them down two at a time.

Chapter 83

Magda staggered to a stop. She put her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her legs ached. In fact, her whole body ached. She knew that Merritt was right about her needing rest. That inexorable requirement after giving herself over to the completion of the sword was rapidly catching up with her. Her lungs burned, making her cough.

She knew that if she didn’t get rest, and soon, she ran the risk of collapsing. But she couldn’t stop, not yet.

She’d walked the Keep road down to the city countless times, but the low, threatening clouds hid the moon, making it hard to see. At least they reflected some of the isolated lights down in the city of Aydindril and it was enough for her to be able to make out roads when they came in from the sides. With those landmarks she knew where she was.

This part of the road coming down the mountain from the Keep to Aydindril wound its way through dense forests. She knew that the trees would soon thin out and then she might be able to see a little better. The thing that she had to be careful of was that to her left, around some of the turns in the road, there were steep drop-offs. Carelessly taking a step too far off the edge of the road in the darkness would likely be the last step she ever made.