The Pillars of Creation (Sword of Truth 7)

He pulled the sorceress close. “Darken Rahl was a powerful wizard. If what you say is true, he would have hunted us.” He slammed her against the cabinet again. “He would have hunted me!” He shook her to elicit an answer. “He would have!”

“He did, but he could not see the holes in the world.”

Her eyes were rolling. Her frail body was no match for Oba’s strength. Blood ran from her right ear.

“What?” Oba reasoned that Lathea was babbling nonsense now.

“Only Althea can…”

She had ceased to make sense. He wondered how much of what she had said was true.

Her head lolled to the side. “I should have…saved us all…when I had the chance. Althea was wrong…”

He shook her, trying to get her to say more. Red froth bubbled from her nose. Despite his yelling, his demanding, his shaking her, no more words came. He held her close, his heavy, hot breath lifting thin strands of her hair as he glared into her aimless eyes.

He had learned all he would from her.

He remembered all the burning powder he’d had to drink, the potions she had mixed for him, the days he’d spent in the pen. He remembered all the times he’d vomited his guts out and it still wouldn’t stop burning his insides.

Oba growled as he lifted the bony woman. With a roar of anger he slammed her against the wall. Her cries were fuel for the fire of his vengeance. He reveled in her helpless agony.

He smashed her down against the heavy trestle table, breaking it, and breaking her. With each crash, she became more limp, bloody, incoherent.

But Oba had only just begun to rage at her.

Chapter 10

Jennsen didn’t want to go back to the inn, but it was dark and cold and she didn’t know what else to do. It was disheartening that Lathea wouldn’t answer their questions. Jennsen had pinned her hopes on the woman’s help.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Sebastian asked.

“Tomorrow?”

“Well, do you still want me to help you leave D’Hara, as you and your mother asked of me?”

She hadn’t really thought it out. In view of what little Lathea had told her, Jennsen wasn’t sure what to do. She stared absently out into the empty night as they trudged across the crusted snow.

“If we went to the People’s Palace, I would have some answers,” she said, thinking out loud. “And, hopefully, Althea’s help.”

Going to the People’s Palace was by far the most dangerous alternative. But no matter where she ran, where she hid, Lord Rahl’s magic would haunt her. Althea might be able to help. Maybe, somehow, she would be able to conceal Jennsen from him so she could have her own life.

He seemed to give her words serious thought, a long cloud of his breath trailing away in the wind. “We’ll go to the People’s Palace, then. Find this Althea woman.”

She felt somehow uneasy when she realized that he wasn’t offering any argument, or trying to talk her out of it. “The People’s Palace is the heart of D’Hara. It’s not just the heart of D’Hara, but the home of the Lord Rahl.”

“Then he wouldn’t be likely to expect you to go there, would he?”

Expected or not, they would still be walking into the enemy’s lair. No predator long neglected to notice the prey in his midst. They would be naked before his fangs.

Jennsen glanced over at the shadowed shape walking beside her. “Sebastian, what are you doing in D’Hara? You seem to have no love for the place. Why would you travel to a place you don’t like?”

Beneath his hood, she saw his smile. “Am I that obvious?”

Jennsen shrugged. “I’ve met travelers before. They talk about places they’ve been, sights they’ve seen. Wonders. Beautiful valleys. Breathtaking mountains. Fascinating cities. You don’t speak of anywhere you’ve been, or anything you’ve seen.”

“You want the truth?” he asked, his expression now serious.

Jennsen looked away. She suddenly felt awkward, nosy—especially in light of what she wasn’t telling him.

“I’m sorry. I have no right to ask such a thing. Forget I mentioned it.”

“I don’t mind.” He looked over at her with a wry smile. “I don’t think you would be one to report me to D’Haran soldiers.”

She was appalled at the very idea. “Of course not.”

“Lord Rahl and his D’Haran Empire wish to rule the world. I’m trying to help prevent that. I’m from south of D’Hara, as I told you before. I was sent by our leader, the emperor of the Old World, Jagang the Just. I am Emperor Jagang’s strategist.”

“Then you’re someone of high authority,” she whispered in astonishment. “A man of high rank.” The astonishment quickly transformed to tingling intimidation. She feared to guess at his importance, his rank. In her mind it rose by the moment, notch by notch. “How am I to address one such as you?”

“As Sebastian.”

“But, you’re an important man. I’m a nobody.”

“Oh, you’re somebody, Jennsen Daggett. The Lord Rahl himself does not hunt nobodies.”

Jennsen felt an odd and unexpected sense of uneasiness. She harbored no love for D’Hara, of course, but she still felt somewhat uncomfortable to know that Sebastian was there to help bring about the defeat of her land.

The twinge of loyalty confused her. After all, the Lord Rahl had sent the men who had murdered her mother. The Lord Rahl hunted Jennsen, wanted her dead.

But it was the Lord Rahl who wanted her dead, not necessarily the people of her land. The mountains, the rivers, the vast plains, the trees and plant life had always all sheltered and nurtured her. She’d never really thought it through in that way before—that she could love her homeland, yet hate those who ruled it.

If this Jagang the Just succeeded, though, she would be freed from her pursuer. If D’Hara was defeated, Lord Rahl would be defeated—the rule of evil men would be ended. She would at last be free to live her own life.

In light of how open he was with her, she also felt foolish, even ashamed, for not telling Sebastian who she was and why Lord Rahl hunted her. She didn’t know it all, herself, but she knew enough to know that Sebastian would share the same fate as she if they caught him with her.

As she thought about it, it began to make sense why he might not object to going to the People’s Palace, why he might be willing to risk such a dangerous journey. As a strategist for the emperor Jagang, perhaps Sebastian would like nothing better than to sneak a look into the enemy’s lair.

“Here we are,” he said.

She looked up and saw the white clapboard face of the inn. A metal mug hanging from a bracket overhead squeaked as it swung to and fro in the wind. The sounds of singing and dancing spilled out onto the snow-covered silence of the night. With an arm around her shoulders, Sebastian sheltered her as they made their way through the great room, shielded her from the prying eyes, and led her to the stairs at the far side. If possible, the place was even more crowded and noisy than before.

Without pause, the two of them quickly ascended the stairs. Partway down the dim hall, he unlocked a door to the right. Inside, Sebastian turned the wick up on the oil lamp sitting on a small table. Alongside the lamp was a pitcher and washbasin and near the table a bench. Looming to the side of the room sat a high bed covered crookedly with a dark brown blanket.

The room was better than the home she had left, but Jennsen didn’t like it. One wall was overlaid with drab, painted linen. The plastered walls were stained and flyblown. Since the room was on the second floor, the only way down was back through the inn. She hated the stink of the room—a sour mixture of pipe smoke and urine. The chamber pot beneath the bed hadn’t been emptied.

As Jennsen pulled a few things from her pack and went to the table to wash her face, Sebastian left her to it and went back downstairs. By the time she had finished washing and had brushed her hair, he returned with two bowls of lamb stew. He had brown bread, too, and mugs of ale. They ate sitting close together on the short bench, hu

nched over the table, close to the wavering light of the oil lamp.