Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

Chase had taught her never to give up, to fight for her life. She knew that she had to do that now. But how? How could she fight such creatures? She had to think of something.

She glanced around. There was no chalk anywhere.

At the sound of a screeching howl she gasped and looked up to see the ghostie gobblies floating closer, like smoke swimming and swirling in through the length of the dark cave. Rachel could see the sharp little teeth in the open mouths of the things—teeth made to rip and tear her flesh from her bones.

“I want you to say you’re sorry.”

Rachel blinked as she turned back to Violet. “What?”

“Tell me you’re sorry. Get down on a knee and tell your queen that you’re sorry for betraying her. Maybe if you do I’ll help you.”

Grasping desperately for any hope, Violet quickly went to a knee and bowed her head forward, using the moment it took to think.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry…what?”

“I’m sorry, Queen Violet.”

“That’s right. I am your queen. While Six is gone, I am the queen around here. The queen! Say it!”

“You are the queen, Queen Violet.”

Violet smiled in satisfaction. “Good. I want you to remember that as you die.”

Rachel looked up. “But you said that you would help me.”

Queen Violet, laughing to herself, retreated farther back into the darkness. “I only said maybe. I’ve decided you don’t deserve my help. You’re a nobody.”

Behind her, rasping little growls were coming closer. Rachel thought she might faint from her clawing fright.

She reached into the pocket of her dress and felt something there—the thing her mother had given her. She pulled it out and stared at it in the lamplight. Now she knew what it was.

It was a piece of chalk.

When her mother had given it to her Rachel had been in such a hurry to get away from the ghostie gobblies that she hadn’t really paid attention to what it was.

Her mother had told her that when she needed it she would know what to do.

Rachel glanced back into the darkness. She could see the back of Violet’s head as she retreated farther back into the cave, away from the violent death that she knew was about to take her.

Rachel looked back the other way and saw the snarling things swimming through the air, coming closer, their mouths opening wide, their needle-sharp teeth snapping and snapping.

She immediately stepped to the drawing Violet had done to trap her. Rachel used the chalk to swiftly add lines and shading, making the figure thicker, rounder. She made the face rounder, and then put a hateful scowl on it. The chalk flew across the stone as she filled in a frilly dress, the kind of dresses that Violet always liked to wear. Finally, remembering what Violet liked to wear in the jewel room, Rachel drew a crown on the head, changing the picture for good from her, into Queen Violet.

Violet claimed to be the queen. Rachel had just crowned her, giving her what she demanded.

She heard a scream from the darkness.

When she saw them coming from the other side, Rachel pressed her back up against the wall as the creatures floated, wriggled, and swam through the air, making their way back into the darkness.

Rachel, her eyes wide, held her breath as the snarling, snapping wispy forms floated past her.

Her heart hammering, Rachel listened to Violet scream hysterically.

“What have you done!” she cried out from the darkness.

Violet rushed forward into the light. Rachel could see Violet through the ghostly things going back into the cave toward her. Violet’s eyes grew big as she saw them coming for her.

“What have you done!” Violet screamed again.

Rachel didn’t answer. She was too terrified as she watched.

“Rachel—help me! I’ve always loved you! How could you do this to me!”

“You did it to yourself, Queen Violet.”

“I’ve always been a kind and loving person!”

“Kind and loving?” Rachel could hardly believe her ears. “Your life has been devoted to hate, Queen Violet.”

“I only hated those who did me wrong, who were evil and selfish! I always did what was best for my people. I treated you well. I gave you food and shelter. I gave you more than a nobody like you would ever have had without my help. I showed you only generosity. Help me, Rachel. Help me and I will reward you.”

“I want to live. That is my reward.”

“How can you be so cruel—so hateful? How can you allow this to happen to another human being? How can you be a party to such a thing?”

“You are the one who created the ghostie gobblies.”

“You’ve betrayed me! I hate you! I hate the air you breathe!”

Rachel nodded. “You made your own choices, Violet. You always chose to embrace hate instead of life. You came down into this cave because you chose to hate. You betrayed yourself with that hate.”

When the ghostie gobblies got closer to Violet, they howled in voices that Rachel could only imagine must sound like the cries of the dead in the underworld. It made her flesh prickle.

She pressed her back against the stone wall of the cave and stood frozen in fright as she saw those teeth that had been meant for her rip into a shrieking Queen Violet.

Rachel knew that only when they were finished and the bones had been picked clean would their summoning born of hate be complete. Only then would they finally vanish for good.

CHAPTER 42

Verna glanced up when she heard the commotion. It was Nathan, at last, his arms swinging in time with his long legs, his light cape billowing out behind as he marched briskly toward them. General Trimack was close on the prophet’s heels.

Cara, pacing impatiently, finally stopped to watch the approaching prophet and cluster of people following in his wake. As vast as the palace complex was, it had taken a considerable length of time to find Nathan and get him and the others down to the tombs.

Nathan came to an abrupt halt. “I’m going to have to bring a horse into this place to get around faster. First I’m wanted here, then I’m wanted there.” He flourished an arm, indicating the grand scale of the palace. “I spend most of my day rushing from one end of this sprawling monstrosity to another.” He scowled at those watching him. “What’s this about, anyway? No one will tell me anything. Have you found something? Is it Ann and Nicci?”

“Keep your voice down,” Cara said.

“Why? Afraid I’ll wake the dead?” he snapped.

Verna expected Cara to meet his sarcasm with something caustic of her own, but she didn’t. “We don’t know what we’ve found,” she said, her worry clearly evident in her demeanor.

Nathan’s brow only bunched all the more at her cryptic answer. “What do you mean?”

“We need your ability,” Verna explained. “My gift doesn’t work very well in this place. We need the use of the gift to help us in this.”

His suspicion growing, he took in General Trimack standing beside him, and then Berdine and Nyda waiting behind Cara. Finally, he glanced around at the rest of the Mord-Sith scattered among soldiers throughout the corridor. The Mord-Sith were all wearing their red leather outfits.

“All right,” he said, considerably more circumspect. “What is the problem and what do you have in mind?”

“The crypt staff—” Cara started.

“The crypt staff?” Nathan interrupted. “Who are they?”

Cara gestured to several people in white robes far off back up the corridor, well behind the armed and ready men of the First File. “They take care of this place. As you know, I think something is wrong down here.”

“So you’ve said, but for all the searching I still don’t see anything wrong down here.”

Cara gestured around. “You don’t know this place very well. I’ve lived here most of my life and even I’m not familiar with the maze of passageways down here. In the past the tombs were usually only v

isited by the Lord Rahl. The crypt staff, though, spends a great deal of their time down here keeping it always ready for those visits, so they know the place better than anyone.”

Nathan rubbed his chin as he again cast a look over his shoulder, back up the corridor at the white-robed figures huddled in the distance. “That makes sense.” He turned back to Cara. “So, what do they have to say?”

“They’re mute. Darken Rahl selected only illiterate people from the countryside to be members of the crypt staff, so they can’t read or write, either.”

“Selected. You mean he captured people and pressed them into service.”

“Exactly,” Berdine said as she moved up a little to stand beside Cara. “In much the same way he would acquire young women to be trained as Mord-Sith.”

Cara gestured off in the direction of Panis Rahl’s tomb. “Darken Rahl wanted a crypt staff who would not speak ill of his dead father, so he cut out their tongues. Since they can’t read or write, they also can’t secretly write anything offensive about the dead leaders.”

Nathan sighed. “He was a harsh man.”

“He was an evil man,” Cara said.