The woman looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties; Zedd knew her to be much older. Ann, Verna’s predecessor, had told him Verna’s age, and while he couldn’t recall the exact number, it was somewhere close to one hundred and sixty years—young for a Sister of the Light. She had simple, attractive features and brown hair with just enough curl and body to add a hint of sophistication. Her intent, brown-eyed gaze looked as if it could scour lichen off granite. By the lines of a resolute expression enduringly fixed on her face, she appeared to be a woman with a shell as tight as a beetle’s and just as hard.
Zedd bowed his head. “Prelate. First Wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, at your service.” He let her know, by his tone, that it was merely a figure of speech.
This was the woman who had taken Richard away to the Old World. Even if she believed it was to save his life, Zedd, as First Wizard, viewed such an act as abhorrent. The Sisters—sorceresses all—believed they could train gifted young men to be wizards. They were wrong; such a task could only be adequately accomplished by another wizard.
She offered her hand with the sunburst-patterned gold ring of office. He bent forward and kissed it, out of what he thought must be their custom. She pulled his hand close when he had finished, and kissed it in return.
“I am humbled to meet the man who helped raise our Richard. You would have to be as rare a person as I found him to be when we helped begin his training.” She forced a chuckle. “We found it a formidable labor, trying to teach that grandson of yours.”
Zedd slightly altered his opinion of the woman, treating her with greater caution. The air in the tent was stuffy and uncomfortable.
“That is because you are all oxen trying to teach a horse to run. You Sisters should stick to work more befitting your nature.”
“Yes, yes, you be a brilliant man, Zedd,” Adie scoffed. “Simply brilliant. One of these days even I may come to believe you.” She tugged his sleeve, turning him from Verna’s scarlet face. “And this be Warren,” Adie said.
Zedd inclined his head toward Warren, but the boy was already falling to his knees and bowing his blond head.
“Wizard Zorander! This is quite an honor.” He popped back up and seized Zedd’s hand in both of his, pumping it until Zedd thought his arm might come undone at the shoulder. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Richard told me all about you. I’m so pleased to meet a wizard of your standing and talent. I would be so happy to learn from you!”
The happier he looked, the more Verna scowled.
“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too, my boy.” Zedd didn’t tell Warren that Richard had never mentioned him. But that was not out of disrespect or neglect; Richard had never had a chance to tell Zedd a great number of very important things. Zedd thought he could sense through Warren’s grip that the young man was a wizard of unusual talents.
A bear of a man with a curly rust-colored beard, a white scar from his left temple to his jaw, and heavy eyebrows stepped forward. His grayish green eyes fixed on Zedd with fierce intensity, but he had a grin like a soldier on a long march who had spotted a lonely cask of ale.
“General Reibisch, commander of the D’Haran forces here in the south,” the man said, taking Zedd’s hand when Warren at last surrendered it and stepped back beside Verna. “Lord Rahl’s grandfather! What good fortune to see you, sir.” His grip was firm, but not painful. It got tighter. “What very good fortune.”
“Yes, indeed,” Zedd muttered. “Unfortunate as the circumstances are, General Reibisch.”
“Unfortunate…?”
“Well, never mind, for the moment,” Zedd said, waving off the question. He asked another, instead. “Tell me, General, have you begun to dig all the mass graves, yet? Or do you intend the few who are left alive to simply abandon all the bodies.”
“Bodies?”
“Why…yes, the bodies of all your troops who are going to die.”
Chapter 16
“I hope you like eggs,” Sister Philippa sang out as she swept into the tent, holding out a steaming plate.
Zedd rubbed his hands together. “Delightful!”
Everyone else was still standing in stiff, stunned silence. Sister Philippa didn’t seem to notice all the hanging jaws.
“I had the cook add some ham and a few other things he had about.” She glanced down at Zedd’s form. “I thought you could use some substance.”
“Marvelous!” Zedd grinned as he relieved her of the plate mounded high with scrambled eggs and ham.
“Ah…” the general began, seemingly befuddled as to how to frame his question, “might you kindly explain…what you mean by that, Wizard Zorander?”
“Zedd will do.” Zedd looked up from inhaling the intoxicating aroma of the dish. “Dead.” He drew the fork across his throat. “You know, dead. Nearly all of them. Dead.” He turned back to Sister Philippa. “This smells delightful.” He again inhaled the steam lifting from the plate of eggs. “Simply delightful. You are a woman of a kind heart and a skillful mind, to think to have the cook add such a splendid complement of ingredients. Simply delightful.”
The Sister beamed.
The general lifted a hand. “Wizard Zorander, if I may—”
Adie hushed the burly general. “You be poor competition to food. Be patient.”
Zedd took a forkful, humming his pleasure at the flavor he encountered. As he took a second forkful, Adie guided him to a simple bench at the side of the tent. A table in the middle held a few mugs and a lamp that lent the cozy tent not only its light but its oily odor as well.
Despite Adie’s advice to be patient, everyone began talking at once, asking questions and offering objections. Zedd ignored them as he shoveled in the scrambled eggs. The large chunks of ham were delicious. He waved a particular juicy piece of meat to the confounded spectators to indicate his pleasure with it. The spices, the onions, the peppers, and the warm lumps of cheese were delightful. He rolled his eyes and moaned in bliss.
It was the best food he’d had in days. His traveling rations were simple and had long ago become boring. He had often grumbled that Spider ate better than he did. Spider seemed smug about it, too, which he had always found annoying. It wasn’t good for a horse to be smug with you.
“Philippa,” Verna growled, “must you be so pleased about a plate of eggs?”
“Well the poor man is practically starving.” Puzzled by Verna’s scowl, she waggled her hand at Zedd. “Just look at him. I’m simply happy to see him enjoy his meal, and pleased I could help one of th
e Creator’s gifted.”
Zedd slowed when he all too soon approached the end of his meal, putting off the last few bites. He could have eaten another plate the same size. General Reibisch, sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the small tent, had been furiously twisting a strand of beard. Now, he leaned forward, his intent gaze fixed on Zedd.
“Wizard Zorander, I need—”
“Zedd. Remember?”
“Yes, Zedd. Zedd, the lives of these soldiers are my responsibility. Could you please tell me if you think they are in danger?”
Zedd spoke around a mouthful. “I already did.”
“But…what is the nature of the danger?”
“The gifted. You know, magic.”
The general straightened with a sober expression. His fingers dug into his muscular thighs. “The gifted?”
“Yes. The enemy has gifted among them. I thought you knew.”
He blinked a few times as he seemed to run it through his mind again, trying to discover the nugget of invisible danger in Zedd’s simple statement.
“Of course we know that.”
“Ah. Then why haven’t you dug some mass graves?”
Verna shot to her feet. “In the name of Creation! What do you think we are, serving wenches? Here to bring you dinner? We are gifted Sisters, here to defend the army from Jagang’s captive Sisters!”
Adie stealthily signaled Verna to sit down and keep quiet. Her voice came out like gravel in honey. “Why don’t you tell us what you have found, Zedd? I be sure the general and the Prelate would like to hear how to improve our defenses.”
Zedd scraped the small yellow lumps across the plate, collecting them into a final, pitifully small forkful. “Prelate, I didn’t mean to imply a deliberate inadequacy on your part.”
“Well you certainly—”
“You are all too good, that’s all.”