Blood of the Fold (Sword of Truth 3)

“A fragment of magic from the ancient war, a shield of sorts, was passed down from its originator to all those descendants with the gift born to the House of Rahl. This bond shields people’s minds so I can’t enter. Richard Rahl has that ability, and has begun to use it. Before he learns too much, he must be brought to task.

“Along with his betrothed.” He paused with a distant, brooding look. “The Mother Confessor dealt me a small setback, but she’s being brought to task by my unwitting puppets up north. The fools, in their zeal, have created some complications, but I’ve yet to truly jerk their strings. When I do, they’ll jump to my tune; I have that wedge planted deep. I’ve spent great effort to bend events to my advantage so as to put Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor in the palm of my hand.”

He squeezed a fist of meat from the roasted suckling pig. “You see, he’s been born a war wizard, the first in three thousand years, but then, you knew that. A wizard like that will prove an invaluable weapon to me. He can do things none of you can, so I don’t want to kill him; I want to control him. When he’s outlived his usefulness, then he’ll need killing.”

Jagang sucked the pig fat from his rings. “You see, control is more important than killing. I could have killed you six, but then what good would you be? As long as you’re under my dominion, you’re no threat to me, and of use in oh, so many ways.”

Jagang turned his wrist up, pointing his knife at Merissa. “You’ve all vowed vengeance against him, but you, my darlin, have vowed to bathe in his blood. I may yet give you the chance.”

Merissa’s face paled. “How… could you know that? I said that when I was awake.”

He chuckled at the look of panic on her face. “If you don’t want me to know something, darlin, then you shouldn’t dream about what you’ve said while you were awake.”

Through the link, Ulicia felt Armina come near to fainting.

“Of course, you six must first be brought to task. You must learn who it is that’s in control of your lives.” With his knife he indicated the silent slaves behind him. “You’ll become as obedient as these, here.”

For the first time, Ulicia took a good look at the partially clad people around the room. She nearly gasped aloud. The women were all Sisters. Worse, most were her Sisters of the Dark. She took a quick survey; not all of them were here. The men, mostly young wizards who had been released after their training at the palace, were also ones who had given a soul oath to the Keeper.

“Some are Sisters of the Light, and serve well, for fear of what I’ll visit upon them should they displease me.” With a finger and thumb, Jagang stroked the thin gold chain between the rings in his nose and ear, “but I like your Sisters of the Dark the best; I’ve brought them all to task, even those at the palace.” Ulicia felt as if another pin had been knocked from under her. “I have business at the Palace of the Prophets. Important business.”

The gold chains at his chest glinted in the firelight as he spread his arms. “They’re all quite obedient.” His inky gaze turned to those behind. “Aren’t you, my darlins?”

Janet, a Sister of the Light, kissed her ring finger as tears crept down her cheeks. Jagang laughed. His ring sparkled in the firelight as he pointed a thick finger at her.

“See that? I permit her to do that. It keeps her filled with false hope. Would I prevent it, then she might kill herself, because she doesn’t have the fear of death like those sworn to the Keeper. Isn’t that right, my darlin Janet?”

“Yes, Excellency,” she answered in a cowed voice. “You own my body in this life, but my soul belongs to the Creator when I die.”

Jagang laughed, a morbid, grating sound. Ulicia had heard it before, and she knew she was going to be its cause again.

“You see? That’s what I tolerate in order to maintain my control. Of course she will now have to serve a week in the tents as punishment.” His inky glare caused Janet to shrink back. “But then you knew that before you said it, didn’t you my darlin.”

Sister Janet’s voice trembled. “Yes, Excellency.”

Jagang’s murky, clouded eyes returned to the six before him. “I like the Sisters of the Dark best because they have sound reason to fear death.” He twisted the pheasant in half. Bones snapped and popped. “They’ve failed the Keeper, to whom they’ve sworn their souls. If they die, it’s no escape. If they die, the Keeper will have his revenge for their failure.” He laughed, a deep, resonant, mocking sound. “As he’ll have you six, for eternity, if you displease me enough to earn death.”

Ulicia swallowed. “We understand… Excellency.”

Jagang’s nightmare gaze made her forget to breathe. “Oh no, Ulicia, I don’t think you truly do. When your lessons are finished, though, you will.”

With his nightmare gaze on Ulicia, he reached under the table and dragged a shapely woman out by her blond hair. She winced in pain as his powerful fist lifted her. She was dressed the same as the others. Through the sheer fabric, Ulicia could see older, yellow bruises, and newer, purple ones. There was a bruise on her right cheek, and a fresh, huge, blue-black one on her left jaw, with a line of four cuts left by his rings.

It was Christabel, one of the Sisters of the Dark Ulicia had left at the palace. The Sisters of the Dark at the palace were to have laid the groundwork for their return. Apparently, they now laid the groundwork for Jagang’s arrival. What he could want with the Palace of the Prophets, she couldn’t fathom.

Jagang turned his hand over, pointing. “Stand before me.”

Sister Christabel scurried around the table to stand before Jagang. She quickly smoothed her disheveled hair, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before bowing. “How may I serve you, Excellency?”

“Well, Christabel, I need to teach these six their first lesson.” He tore the other leg off the pheasant. “In order to do that, you must die.”

She bowed. “Yes, Excell—” She froze, realizing what he had just said. Ulicia could see her legs trembling as she straightened, but still, the woman dared say nothing.

He gestured with the pheasant leg to the two women sitting before him on the bearskin, and they scrambled away. Jagang smiled that terrifying smirk of his. “Good-bye, Christabel.”

Her arms flung into the air as she collapsed to the ground with a shriek. Christabel thrashed madly on the floor, screamed so loudly it hurt Ulicia’s ears. The six women standing above her at the edge of the bearskin watched with wide eyes, holding their breath. Jagang gnawed on his pheasant leg. The bloodcurdling screams went on and on as Christabel’s head whipped from side to side and her whole body flopped and bounced as she twitched violently.

Jagang occupied himself with his pheasant leg and having his wine mug refilled. No one spoke as he finished the leg and turned to take a few grapes.

Ulicia could stand it no longer. “How long until she dies?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

Jagang lifted an eyebrow. “Until she dies?” He threw his head back as her roared in laughter. His fists, bristling with huge rings, pounded the table. No one else in the room so much as smiled. His burly body shook. The thin chain between his nose and ear danced as his laughter died out in fits.

“She was dead before she hit the floor.”

“What? But she… she’s still screaming.”

Christabel suddenly was silent, her chest as still as stone.

“She’s been dead from the first instant,” Jagang said. A slow smile spread on his lips as he fixed the black void of his gaze on Ulicia. “That wedge I told you about. Just like the one I have in your minds. What you see is her soul screaming. You are seeing her torment in the world of the dead. The Keeper looks to be displeased with his Sister of the Dark.”

Jagang lifted a finger and Christabel resumed her wild thrashing and screaming.

Ulicia swallowed. “How long… how long until she… stops?”

He licked his lips. “Until she rots.”

Ulicia felt her knees trembling, and through the link she could feel the o

ther five on the verge of screaming in mad panic, just as Christabel was. This was the displeasure the Keeper would visit upon them if they didn’t restore his influence in this world.

Jagang snapped his fingers. “Slith! Eeris!”

Light shimmered against the wall. Ulicia gasped as two caped forms seemed to appear out of the dark stone.

The two scaled creatures glided silently around the table and bowed. “Yesss, dreamssss walker?”

Jagang waggled his thick finger, indicating the screaming woman on the floor. “Throw her down the privy pit.”

The mriswith flipped their capes back over their shoulders and bent, lifting the thrashing, shrieking body of a woman Ulicia had known for well over a hundred years, a woman who had helped her, and been an obedient servant to the Keeper’s wishes. She was to have had a reward for her service. They all were.

Ulicia looked to Jagang as the two mriswith left the room with their load for the privy pit. “What do you want us to do?”