Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

“I’ve got her.” Richard tilted his head. “Get Jillian.”

The man hurriedly lifted the groggy girl.

“What I don’t understand,” Adie said as she smoothed a hand across Nicci’s brow, trying to give her some comfort, “is how she was captured in the first place. She be up in the palace, the last we all saw her.”

Richard felt the weight of responsibility. “Knowing Nicci, she was probably trying to find me.”

“Ann be missing as well,” Adie said as she touched the first two fingers of her right hand to the underside of Nicci’s chin.

“I haven’t seen Ann,” Richard said.

What ever Adie was doing for Nicci didn’t look to be helping. Richard didn’t think that Nicci could last much longer unless they found a way to get the collar off her neck. Nathan was the closest hope.

“Adie,” Richard said, pointing with his chin back to where he had been on the ground when the Sister had first appeared. “That man over there, with the red paint on him. Can you help him?”

Adie peered over at the man on the ground. “Perhaps.”

Adie hurried to Bruce and knelt beside him. He was only partially conscious, the same as all the other men the Sister had blasted down. Adie’s straight gray and black hair hung down around her face as she bent forward, pressing her fingers to the red symbols painted across the man’s temples. Bruce gasped. His eyes opened wide. He pulled a few more deep breaths as Adie removed her hand from one side.

In a moment Bruce sat up, twisting his head, trying to stretch cramped and obviously sore muscles in his neck. “What’s going on?”

“Bruce, hurry up,” Richard said. “We need to get out of here.”

Richard’s left wing man peered around at the men on the ground, at Benjamin, holding Jillian and dressed as one of Jagang’s royal guards, at Adie, and finally at Richard standing a few paces away with Nicci draped in his arms.

Bruce snatched up a sword. “Ruben, what’s going on?”

“It’s a long story. You came to help me. You saved my life. It’s time for you to decide whose side you’re on.”

Bruce frowned at the question. “I’m your wing man. I’m with you. Don’t you know that?”

Richard looked the man in the eye. “My name’s Richard.”

“Well, I knew it wasn’t Ruben. That’s a silly name for a point man.”

“Richard Rahl,” Richard said.

“Lord Rahl,” General Meiffert corrected, looking ready for trouble even as he held Jillian in his arms.

Bruce glanced from face to face. “Well, if you all want to die, then you can stand around here until these fellows wake up. If that’s the case, then I’m not with you. If you’re of a mind to live, then I’m with you.”

“Ramp,” Nicci said in a gasp.

Richard pulled her a little tighter. “Are you sure, Nicci? We could try for the road up the plateau.” He was reluctant to trade a way he knew for the vague possibility of another route. “I know it’s heavily guarded but maybe we could fight our way through. Adie could help some. We might be able to make it.”

Nicci clutched his neck, pulling his head down toward her. Her blue eyes focused intently on his face. “Ramp,” she whispered with all her strength.

That look in her eyes was all he needed.

“Let’s go,” he said to the others. “We have to get to the ramp.”

“How are we going to get through all the men still fighting?” Bruce asked as they started off into the night. “It’s a long way to the ramp.”

With all the guards down, the area they were in was relatively calm. Out beyond, though, it was still chaos.

The general shifted Jillian’s weight a little and pointed with his sword. “There’s a small supply wagon just over there. We can hide Jillian and Nicci inside. With that paint on you two, you’re not going to make it far before a few hundred thousand of these men decide to cut you down. No slight intended, Lord Rahl, but those odds are pretty poor. I want the two of you to hide inside with Jillian and Nicci. Adie and I will lead the wagon. Anyone will think that I’m one of the emperor’s guards and Adie is a Sister. We can say that we’re on urgent business for the emperor.”

Richard was nodding. “Good. I like the idea. Let’s hurry.”

“Who is this fellow?” Bruce asked as he leaned toward Richard.

“He’s my top general,” Richard said.

“Benjamin Meiffert,” the general said with a quick smile as they all started for the wagon. “You’ve earned the gratitude of a lot of good people for stepping into the teeth of death to fight beside Lord Rahl like you did.”

“Never knew a general before,” Bruce muttered as he hurried after the others.

CHAPTER 39

Verna clasped her hands loosely in front of her and sighed quietly as she watched Cara plant her fists on her red-leather-clad hips. The gaggle of men and women in white robes shuffled farther down the hall, gazing at the white marble walls, trailing their fingers across it, stopping here and there to peer closely at it as if they were searching for a message from the world of the dead.

“Well?” Cara asked.

An older man, Dario Daraya, laid a finger lightly across his lips. He frowned thoughtfully for another long moment as he watched the cluster of people bobbing and swaying down the corridor like corks in a river, then swiveled toward the Mord-Sith. He ran his fingers down the sky blue silk edging running down the front of his crisp white robes. He frowned at Cara, his features twisting a little as he scratched the fringe of white hair encircling his bald head.

“I’m not sure, Mistress.”

“Not sure about what? Not sure that I’m right, or not sure of what they think about it?”

“No, no, Mistress Cara. I agree with you. Something is wrong down here.”

Verna stepped forward. “You agree with her?”

The man nodded earnestly. “I’m just not sure what it could be.”

“Like something just feels out of place?” Cara suggested.

He waggled a finger skyward. “Yes, I think that’s it. Rather like in one of those dreams where you get lost in a place because the rooms are all mixed around from where they belong.”

Cara nodded absently as she watched the crypt staff gliding along close to the opposite wall. They moved on down the corridor, their heads weaving up and down as they peered at the walls. They reminded Verna a little of hounds hunting through brush.

“You run the crypt staff,” Verna said to the man. “Wouldn’t you know if something was out of place?”

She couldn’t imagine how anything could be out of place. There were carpets in a few places, a chair or two in small, side rooms, but other than that there wasn’t much of anything to be out of place.

Dario watched his people for a moment, then turned back to Cara and Verna. “I take care of everything surrounding their service. There are quarters to see to, meals, clothes, supplies—all that sort of thing. I run the crypt staff. They are the ones who actually attend to the work down here.”

“What kind of work, exactly?” Verna asked.

“Well, in general, sweeping, cleaning, dusting—that sort of thing. There are miles of corridors down here. The staff replaces lamp oil and candles in some places, keeps fresh torches in others. Occasionally a piece of stone will crack and need to be repaired or replaced. The caskets that aren’t entombed within walls or in the floor have to be kept in good condition—the metal on some polished, on others kept free of rust, and the carved wooden ones need to be waxed to keep the wood from drying excessively. There have occasionally been leaks down here, so the exterior of the caskets must be carefully inspected to make sure they aren’t getting damp or moldy.

“The crypt staff is ultimately at the service of the Lord Rahl. They see to his specific wishes, if he has any. Those entombed down here, after all, are his ancestors.