Blood of the Fold (Sword of Truth 3)

Galtero had all he could do to hold her, until at last, she went limp in his grip. Despite the wind, there seemed a sudden silence.

Lunetta opened her hand. “She be mine to bid. I pass my right to you.” She placed the now desiccated knob of flesh in Brogan’s upturned palm. “She be yours, now, my lord general.”

Brogan closed the shriveled knot in his fist. The duchess hung glassy-eyed by her arms behind her back. Her legs held her weight, but she shook with pain and cold. Blood oozed from her wound.

Brogan tightened his fist. “Stop that shivering!”

She looked into his eyes, and her glazed expression faded. She became still. “Yes, my lord general.”

Brogan gestured to his sister. “Heal her.”

Galtero watched with a glint of lust in his dark eyes as Lunetta cupped both hands around the woman’s injured breast. Duke Lumholtz, too, watched with eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Lunetta’s eyes closed again as she wove more magic, casting a soft spell. Blood trickled from between Lunetta’s fingers until the woman’s flesh began drawing together in the healing.

Brogan’s mind drifted as he waited. The Creator did indeed watch over his own. A day that had started with him at the brink of the greatest of triumphs was brought nearly to ruin, but in the end he had proven that those who kept the Creator’s cause in their hearts could prevail. Lord Rahl was going to find out just what happened to those who worshiped the Keeper, and the Imperial Order was going to find out just how valuable the lord general of the Blood of the Fold was to them. Galtero, too, had proven his worth this day; the man was entitled to a trifle for his efforts.

Lunetta used the duchess’s wrap to wipe off the blood, and then withdrew to reveal a perfectly whole breast, as flawless as the other, except it had no nipple. Brogan had that, now.

Lunetta motioned toward the duke. “Am I to do him, too, Lord General? Do you wish to have them both?”

“No.” Brogan lifted a hand with a dismissive wave. “No, I only need her. But he will play his part in my plan.”

Brogan fixed his glare on the duke’s panicked eyes. “This be a dangerous city. As Lord Rahl told us today, there be dangerous creatures about, attacking innocent citizens who have no chance against them. Shocking. If only Lord Rahl were here to protect the duke from such an attack.”

“I will to see to it at once, Lord General,” Galtero said.

“No, I can take care of this. I thought you might like to ‘entertain’ the duchess here, while I see to the duke.”

Galtero drew teeth across his lower lip as he gazed at the duchess. “Yes, Lord General, very much. Thank you.” He tossed Brogan his knife. “You will need this. The soldiers told me that the creatures disemboweled their victims with a three-bladed knife. You will need to make three slices to duplicate the effect.”

Brogan thanked his colonel. He could always count on Galtero’s thoroughness. The woman’s eyes moved back and forth between the three of them, but she said nothing.

“Would you like me to compel her to cooperate?”

A gruesome grin spread on Galtero’s usually stony face. “And what would be the purpose of that, Lord General? Better if she learned another lesson this night.”

Brogan nodded. “As you wish, then.” He looked to the duchess. “My dear, I do not bid this of you. You are free to express your own true feelings about it to Galtero here.”

She cried out when Galtero swept an arm around her waist. “Why don’t we go over there, in the darkness. I would not want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Duchess, by allowing you to see what be happening to your husband.”

“You can’t!” she cried out. “I’ll freeze in the snow! I must do my lord general’s bidding. I’ll freeze!”

Galtero patted her bottom. “Oh, you won’t freeze. The midden will be warm under you.”

She shrieked and tried to pull away, but Galtero already had a good grip on her. He tightened his other fist in her hair.

“She be a lovely creature, Galtero; see that that beauty isn’t marred. And don’t be long; she yet has bidding to do for me. She will have to wear less paint,” he said with a smirk, “but since she has such talent with it, at least she can paint herself a nipple where her real one be missing.

“When I be finished with the duke here, and you be finished with her, then Lunetta has another spell to cast over her. A very special spell. A very rare and powerful spell.”

Lunetta stroked her pretties as she watched his eyes. She knew what he wanted. “Then I will need something of his, something he has touched.”

Brogan patted his pocket. “He accommodated us with a coin.”

Lunetta nodded. “That will do.”

The duchess shrieked and flailed her arms as Galtero began dragging her off into the darkness.

Brogan turned and waggled the knife in front of the tall Keltan’s wild eyes. “And now, Duke Lumholtz, on to your part in the Creator’s plan.”

16

With Gratch looming over his shoulder, watching, Richard dribbled the red wax in a long puddle across the folded letter. He hastily set the candle and wax aside and picked up his sword, rolling the handle into the wax, making an impression of the hilt with its braided gold wire that spelled out the word TRUTH. He was satisfied with the results; Kahlan and Zedd would know the letter really was his.

Egan and Ulic were sitting at the ends of the long, curved desk, watching the empty room as if an army were about to storm the dais. His two, huge guards preferred to stand. He was sure they must be tired and had insisted they sit. They said standing left them more prepared to react in the event of trouble. Richard had told them that he thought the thousand men outside, guarding, would probably raise a sufficient racket if there were an attack that the two would notice, even from a seated position, and still have time to get up out of their chairs and draw their swords. It was then that they had reluctantly sat down.

Cara and Raina stood beside the doors. When he had told them that they were welcome to sit, too, they had dismissed the suggestion with haughty sniffs, and had said that they were stronger than Egan and Ulic, and would stand. Richard had been in the middle of writing his letter and hadn’t wanted to argue with them, so he had said that since they looked tired and slow, he was ordering them to stand so they would have sufficient time to come to his defense in case there was an attack. They were standing now, scowling at him, but he had caught glimpses of them smiling to each other, apparently pleased with the way they had been able to draw him into their game.

Darken Rahl had given the Mord-Sith clearly delineated bounds: master and slave. Richard wondered if they were testing their limits with him, trying to find where the slack ended. Maybe they were simply gleeful to be able, for the first time, to act as they wished, on whim if they wanted.

Richard also considered the possibility that their game was a test to try to ascertain if he was mad. Mord-Sith were nothing if not accomplished at testing. It troubled him that they might think him mad. This was the only way; they had to see that.

Richard hoped Gratch wasn’t as tired as the rest of them. The gar had only just joined him that morning, so Richard didn’t know how much sleep he had gotten, but his glowing green eyes looked bright and alert. Gars hunted mostly at night, so perhaps that explained his wakefulness. Whatever it was, Richard hoped it was true that Gratch wasn’t tired, and not simply his hope.

Richard patted the furry arm. “Gratch, come with me.”

The gar came to his feet, stretched his wings along with one leg, and followed Richard across the expanse of floor to one of the covered stairways up to the balcony. His four guards instantly came alert when Richard started off. He gestured for them to stay where they were. Egan and Ulic did; the two women did not, but instead followed him at a distance.

Only the two lamps at the bottom of the covered stairway were lit, leaving the rest a gloomy tunnel. At the top, it opened onto a broad balcony, one side edged with a sinuous mahogany railing overlooking

the main floor, and the other bordered by the bottom rim of the dome. Above a low, white marble ledger, round windows half again as tall as he were spaced evenly around the enormous room. Richard looked out one of the windows to a snowy night. Snow. That could be trouble.

At the bottom the window was latched with a brass lever, and to the center of each side it was hinged on massive pins. He tested the lever and found it pivoted smoothly.

Richard turned back to his friend. “Gratch, I want you to listen to me very carefully. This is important.”

Gratch nodded in earnest concentration. The two Mord-Sith watched from the shadows near the top of the stairway.

Richard reached out and stroked the long lock of hair hanging on a leather thong around Gratch’s neck along with the dragon’s tooth. “This is a lock of Kahlan’s hair.” Gratch nodded that he understood. “Gratch, she’s in danger.” Gratch frowned. “You and I are the only ones who can see the mriswith coming.” Gratch growled and covered his eyes with his claws, peeking out between—his sign for the mriswith.

Richard nodded. “That’s right. Gratch, she has no way to see them coming, like you and I do. If they go after her, she won’t see them coming. They’ll kill her.”

An uneasy, purling whine rose from Gratch’s throat. His face brightened. He held out the lock of Kahlan’s hair, and then thumped his massive chest.

Richard couldn’t help laughing in wonder at the gar’s ability to grasp what he wanted. “You guessed what I was thinking, Gratch. I would go to her myself, to protect her, but that would take too much time, and she might be in danger right now. You’re big, but you’re not big enough to carry me. The only thing we can do is to have you go to her, and protect her.”