The Pillars of Creation (Sword of Truth 7)

Jennsen’s eyes went wide at encountering that word aloud.

“Where did you hear that?”

A self-satisfied smirk settled comfortably on Sister Perdita’s face. “From you, dear.”

“I never—”

“At dinner with His Excellency. He asked you why it was you wished to kill your brother, what was your reason, your purpose. You said Grushdeva.”

“I never said any such thing.”

The smirk soured to condescension. “Oh, but you did. Are you going to lie to me? To deny that word

has been whispered in your mind?” When Jennsen stood silent, Sister Perdita went on. “Do you know what it means? That word, Grushdeva?”

“No,” Jennsen said in a very small voice.

“Vengeance.”

“How do you know?”

“I know that tongue.”

Jennsen stood rigid, her shoulders drawn up. “What is it, exactly, you are proposing?”

“Why, I’m proposing to save Sebastian’s life.”

“But, what else?”

Sister Perdita shrugged. “Some of us Sisters will take you out to a quiet place, where we can be alone, while some of us stay here and save Sebastian’s life, like you want. In the morning, he will be better, and then you and he can be on your way to kill Richard Rahl. You came here for our help. I am proposing to give you that help. With what we do for you, you will be able to accomplish your task.”

Jennsen swallowed. The voice was strangely silent. Not a word. It was somehow more awful that it was silent, right then.

“Sebastian is dying. He has only moments before it will be too late for us to save him. Yes, or no, Jennsen Rahl?”

“But, what if—”

“Yes, or no! Your time has run out. If you want to kill Richard Rahl, if you want to save Sebastian, then utter but one word. Do it now, or forever wish you had.”

Chapter 52

After they picketed their horses, Jennsen gave Rusty a rub on the forehead. With trembling fingers, she smoothed her other hand along the underside of the jaw as she pressed the side of her face against the horse’s nose.

“Be a good girl until I get back,” she whispered.

Rusty neighed softly in response to the gentle words. Jennsen liked to imagine that the horse could understand her words. From the way her goat, Betty, had always cocked her head and stilled her little upright tail as Jennsen confided her innermost fears, she had firmly believed that her hairy four-legged friend could understand every word.

Jennsen peered overhead at the clawlike branches swaying in the muted light of a full moon occulted by a milky veil of ethereal clouds drifting across the sky, as if gathering to bear silent witness.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, Sister Perdita.”

“Hurry, then. The others will be waiting.”

Jennsen followed the woman up the side of a bank. The mossy ground was littered with leathery dried oak leaves and a layer of small branches. Roots emerging here and there from the loose loam provided enough footing to climb the steep rise. At the top, the ground leveled out. The Sister’s dark gray dress made her nearly vanish as she moved into the thick brush. For a woman with such big bones, Jennsen noticed that the Sister moved with disturbing grace.

The voice remained silent. In tense times like this the voice always whispered to her. Now it was silent. Jennsen had always wanted the voice to leave her be. She had come to understand just how frightening such silence could be.

The full moon, being only thinly obscured, provided enough light to make their way. Jennsen could see her breath in the cold air as she followed the Sister into the thick of the woods back between the low spreading boughs of balsams and spruce. She had always felt at home in the woods, but, somehow, following a Sister into the woods didn’t give her the same comforting feeling.

She would rather be alone than in the company of the stern woman. Ever since Jennsen had given her the only word that would save Sebastian’s life, Sister Perdita had settled into a demeanor of blunt superiority devoid of any tolerance. She was now firmly in command, and was certain that Jennsen knew it.

At least she had kept her word. As soon as Jennsen had given hers, Sister Perdita had urgently set other Sisters to saving Sebastian’s life. While other Sisters were sent on ahead to prepare whatever it was they had to prepare, Jennsen was allowed to briefly look in on Sebastian to reassure her that everything possible to save him was being done.

Before she had left his side, Jennsen had bent and softly kissed his beautiful lips, run her hand tenderly back over his white spikes of hair, and gently brushed her lips across both his closed, sky blue eyes. She had whispered a prayer for her mother, with the good spirits, to watch over him.

Sister Perdita had not stopped her, or hurried her, until at the end when she pulled Jennsen back and whispered that the Sisters, huddled all around him, had to be left to do their work.

On her way out, Jennsen had been allowed to put her head into the private chamber of the emperor, and saw four Sisters bent close over his injured leg. The emperor was unconscious. The four Sisters working feverishly on the emperor seemed to be in pain themselves, sometimes putting their hands to their heads in agony. Jennsen hadn’t known, until she saw the four and Sister Perdita explained, just how unpleasantly difficult healing could be. The Sisters were not concerned, though, about the life of the emperor being in immediate danger, as they were about Sebastian.

Jennsen held a balsam bough back out of her way as she followed the Sister deeper into the forbidding wood.

“Why do we have to go so far from the camp?” Jennsen whispered. The horseback ride had taken what seemed hours.

Sister Perdita’s tail of hair fell forward over her shoulder when she looked back, as if it were a particularly inane question. “So we can be alone to do what must be done.”

Jennsen wanted to ask what must be done, but she knew the Sister wouldn’t tell her. The woman had turned away all questions with answers that were no more than general. She said that Jennsen had given her word, and now it was her duty to uphold her end of the bargain—to do as she was told until it was finished.

Jennsen tried not to think about what might be ahead. She put her mind, instead, to thinking about leaving in the morning with a healthy Sebastian, about being back out on the trails, out in the countryside, away from all the people. Away from the grim-looking soldiers of the Imperial Order.

She knew that the soldiers were doing an invaluable job fighting against Lord Rahl, but, still, she just couldn’t help the way those men made her skin crawl. She felt as nervous as a fawn being watched by a pack of drooling wolves. Sebastian just didn’t understand whenever she’d tried to put it into words for him. He was a man; she supposed he couldn’t understand what it felt like to be leered at. How could she make him understand that it was especially daunting to be watched by men such as those, men with such lecherous grins and savage eyes?

If she just did as Sister Perdita said, then, by morning, she and Sebastian could leave. With whatever help the Sisters were planning, they had at least assured her that she would be better able to kill Richard Rahl. That was all Jennsen cared about, now. If she could at last kill Lord Rahl, then she would be free. Her life would be her own. And if that much never came to be for herself, at least the rest of the world would be safe from a butcher of momentous proportions.

They had left the horses among trees with bare branches—oaks, mostly. Since the trees had yet to leaf out, the forest had at first been open, but they moved steadily into thicker woods of balsam, spruce, and pine, many with thick boughs skirting their trunks all the way to the ground. Although the soaring pines had no lower branches, their spreading crowns sealed off the weak moonlight. Jennsen followed behind the Sister, watching her glide deeper into the silent, gloomy wood.

Jennsen had spent much of her life in forests. She could follow the trail left by a chipmunk. Sister Perdita was moving with all the certainty of someone following a road, yet there was no trail Jennsen could detect. The ground was covered with the typical forest litter; none of it had been moved by anyone’s passing. She saw twigs lying undisturbed, dried leaves intact, delicate mosses that were untouched by any boot. For all Jennsen could tell, she and the Sister were making their way through virgin woods without any reason or destination, yet she knew by the deliberate way the Sister moved that she had to have one, even if only she saw it.

And then, Jennsen caught a faint sound drifting through the thick woods. She saw a blush of light on the underside of br

anches ahead. The chill air had an odd, unpleasant cast like the faint scent of rot, but with a sickening sweet trace to it.

As she followed Sister Perdita through thick, tightly spaced evergreens, Jennsen began to hear the individual voices joined in a low, rhythmic, guttural chant. She couldn’t understand the words, but they resonated deep in her chest, and, the unusual cadence being disturbingly familiar, in the back of her mind. Even without her hearing the individual words, the cant of them almost seemed to be what lent the stench to the air. The words, peculiar yet hauntingly intimate, cramped her stomach with nausea.

Sister Perdita paused to look back, to make sure that her charge wasn’t flagging. Jennsen could see the faint moonlight reflecting off the ring through the Sister’s lower lip. All the Sisters wore one. Jennsen found the custom revolting, even if it was to show loyalty.

When Sister Perdita held a low balsam bough aside for her, Jennsen stepped through. Hearing the voices in chant beyond had her heart hammering. She could see, through the gap, a clearing in the forest, allowing an open view of the sky and moon overhead.

Jennsen glanced at the Sister’s stern expression, then continued on to the brink of the clearing. Before her lay a broad circle of candles. The candles were placed so close together that it almost looked like a ring of fire invoked to hold back demons. Just inside the candles, a circle had been made on the bare ground with what looked like white sand that glimmered in the moonlight. All around just inside the circle, made with the same strange white sand, were geometric symbols Jennsen didn’t recognize.

Seven women sat in a circle inside the sparkling sand. There was one place where it looked like someone belonged but was missing, no doubt Sister Perdita. The women had their eyes closed as they chanted in the strange language. Moonlight reflected off the rings through their lower lips as they spoke the grating guttural words.

“You are to sit in the center of the circle,” Sister Perdita said in a low voice. “Leave your clothes here.”

Jennsen looked over into her hard eyes. “What?”

“Remove your clothes and sit in the center facing the breach in the circle.”