Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

“Good.” Jagang dropped the woman.

Sister Cherna crumpled in a heap, her hands tearing at her throat as she struggled to get air. She couldn’t get her breath. Jagang had crushed her windpipe. Her fingers clawed at the air. As she lay at his feet, she began turning blue.

With desperate effort, she struggled her way into Ann’s lap. Ann stroked the poor ruined woman’s head with an outpouring of helpless compassion.

Ann whispered her love and forgiveness to Sister Cherna, and then silently prayed to the Creator and to the good spirits.

Sister Cherna’s arms, twitching in agony, circled Ann’s waist in gratitude. Ann could do nothing but pray that the Creator would forgive his child as she died a burbling death in Ann’s lap. At last, she stilled with the merciful release of death.

Jagang kicked Sister Cherna aside. He seized the chain around Ann’s throat and with one hand easily hauled her to her feet. Cloudy shapes in his inky eyes shifted in a way that unsettled her stomach.

“I think you may be of some use. Maybe I can pull off your arms and send them to Richard Rahl, just to give him nightmares. Maybe I can trade you for something of value. But fear not, I will think of a use for you, Prelate. You are now my property.”

“You can have my existence in this world,” Ann said with grim commitment, “but you cannot touch my soul. That gift of the Creator is mine, and mine alone.”

He laughed. “A fine speech.” He jerked her face closer. “One I’ve heard before.” His eyebrows arched with delight. “Why, I think every woman in this room has said the same to me. But you know what, Prelate? They put the lie to it today, didn’t they?

“They all gave you over, when they could have escaped. At the least, they could have saved your life at no risk to themselves. But they chose to remain slaves when you offered them freedom.

“I’d say, Prelate, that I have their souls, too.”

“Sister Cherna sought me at death, not you, Jagang. She sought goodness and love, even though she had betrayed me. That, Emperor, is the mark of a soul’s true intent.”

“A difference of opinion, then.” He shrugged. “What say we kill the rest, one at a time, and see each vote of devotion, then tally the votes at the end? To be fair, though, we’ll take turns killing them. I killed mine. Your turn.”

Ann could do no more than glare at the beast.

He let out a belly laugh. “No? See, you aren’t so confident in winning the votes of your Sisters’ souls.”

He turned to the Sisters, still on their knees. “Fortune for you today, darlins. The Prelate seems to have ceded your souls.”

His dark gaze returned to Ann. “By the way, you are probably hoping the chimes will be banished. We share the hope. I have use for magic, but if I have to, I can certainly win this way, too.

“But if the chimes are banished, it will do you no good. You see, those manacles and chains are invested with a spell spun by my other Sisters. You know the ones. The Sisters of the Dark. As you know, they have use of Subtractive Magic, and that, my dear Prelate, still works.

“I just didn’t want you to suffer with false hope.”

“How considerate of you.”

“Don’t fret, though. I will think of some creative use for you.”

He cocked his arm. His bare shoulders bulged from the fur vest. His biceps were bigger than the waist of many women in the room.

“For now, though, I think I’d like you unconscious.”

She tried to pull power forth. Her gift did not respond.

Ann watched the fist coming, but could do nothing to stop it.

46

Zedd scratched his chin as he looked around. He didn’t see anyone. It was a peculiar alleyway, narrow and dark. He peered down to the little place at the end. The gloomy residence looked deserted.

That was a good sign.

Zedd stroked Spider’s nose. “You wait here. Understand? Wait here for me.”

The horse tossed her head and nickered agreeably. Smiling, Zedd scratched her ear. In response, she pressed her forehead against his chest, holding it there to let him know she would be well pleased if he were to want to continue scratching the ear for the rest of the afternoon.

Named after the unsettling leggy black splotch on her creamy rump, Spider had proven an excellent purchase, despite the high price. Being young, strong, and brimming with equine enthusiasm, the horse enjoyed trotting and occasional spirited runs. She had gotten him to Toscla in remarkably good time.

Since he had arrived, he had learned that Toscla was now called Anderith. In fact, he had almost been hauled off his horse by a man who accused Zedd of using the old name as an affront. Fortunately, Spider knew nothing of the peculiar human sensitivity to mere words; she was happy to leap into a gallop.

Zedd, without use of the gift and being vulnerable, besides feeling his age, had been resigned to a long and arduous journey afoot across the wilds. But by the magic of luck, on his third day out of the Mud People’s village, he ran across a man who turned out to be an agent in trade agreements. Since he frequently went back and forth between clients, the man traveled with several horses. He could afford to be without his extra until he reached his destination, especially at the price Zedd offered, and so had parted with Spider.

The formidable journey Zedd anticipated ended up being remarkably short and not at all unpleasant, as long as he didn’t dwell on his reasons for traveling to Anderith.

Mingling into line at the frontier, Zedd had been allowed through the checkpoint along with wagons, merchants, and traders of every sort. Dressed as he was in his fine maroon and black robes with silver brocade cuffs and gold brocade around the neck and down the front along with a gold buckle on a red satin belt, he was easily able to pass himself off as a merchant. He told the officers at the border that he had fruit orchards to the north and was on his way to Fairfield in order to negotiate trade agreements.

By the look of the soldiers he saw at the border, the people of Anderith placed too much faith in the Dominie Dirtch. It had been a long time since he had been to the land formerly called Toscla, but back then the border had been defended by as formidable and well trained an army as there was. The army had deteriorated until now it was nothing more than the hollow deterrent of ignorant confidence.

Zedd noticed Spider’s ears turn toward the empty-looking home down at the end of the alleyway. Every muscle in the horse was at full attention. Zedd guessed that perhaps a horse was as good at certain things as some of his magic might have been. He found the thought disagreeable. He wanted his magic back.

After giving Spider a pat of reassurance, and once again asking her to wait there, Zedd made his way down the narrow alleyway. Tall clapboard walls to each side kept out most of the light. Nevertheless, a wide variety of herbs grew beside the narrow footpath. Many of the herbs Zedd saw growing there didn’t enjoy the light at all. Some of them were exceedingly rare; they ordinarily hissed at light, but now they looked sickly.

Zedd made sure to step on each of the three steps going up to the door, rather than skip any. Such perfunctory attempts at stealth would be a mistake, if this was the place he hoped it was. Glancing in the gap of the curtains, he could see it was dark inside. He didn’t see any eyes evaluating him, but he strongly suspected, if not with the aid of magic then with common sense, that they were there.

He took one last look over his shoulder at Spider standing attentively, her ears pricked toward him. She lifted her head, opened her mouth, and neighed. Zedd reached up and knocked.

The door creaked as it opened. No one was behind it.

“Enter,” came

a voice from the shadows beyond, “and state your request.”

Zedd stepped into the gloom of the narrow room. Little light came in the gap between the heavy curtains, and the light from the door died out before daring to trespass very far. He could see no furniture, only the floorboards stretching off into the dim distance where she remained.

He turned and peered up at the top of the door. He pointed a bony finger at it.

“Nice touch, the rope used to open the door while you stay over there. Very effective.”

“Who are you to tempt my anger?”

“Tempt your anger? Oh, dear no. You have it all wrong. I’m here looking for a sorceress.”

“Take care, stranger, with what you wish. Wishes have an unpleasant manner of sometimes coming to be. State your name.”

Zedd bowed dramatically. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.” He cocked his head to regard with one eye the woman in the shadows. “That would be Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, as in, First Wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.”

The woman staggered into the light, her fair features set in astonishment. “First Wizard…”

Zedd put on a disarming smile. “Franca Gowenlock, I’m hoping?”

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, she seemed only able to nod.

“My, my, but haven’t you grown.” Zedd held his hand out below his beltline. “You couldn’t have been any bigger than this when I last saw you.” He smiled with sincere admiration. “You look to have grown into a very lovely woman.”

She blushed as she reached up to plump her hair. “Why, I have gray hair.”

“The bloom of it becomes you. It truly does.”

He meant it. She really was an attractive woman. Her nearly shoulder-length hair swept back to display proud features in a most appealing manner. The kiss of gray at her temples only enhanced her mature beauty.

“And you…”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I know. I’m not exactly sure when it was that it happened, but I’ve grown into an old man.”

A grin growing on her face, she stepped up and curtsied, holding out to the skirts of her simple brown dress as she dipped.