Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

Even though all of that had changed because of Richard, she couldn’t allow Jagang to know how much it had changed. Her only chance, her only defense, was to make him think that nothing had changed in her attitude, that she cared no more about what might happen to her now than she had in the past.

Death’s Mistress would not care if she could use her power or not. To Death’s Mistress a collar meant nothing.

Jagang lightly drew the long braided hair growing under his lower lip between his finger and thumb. His gaze took in the length of her. He let out a deep breath, as if considering what he would do with her first.

She didn’t have long to wait.

He abruptly backhanded her hard enough to send her flying. When she landed her head hit the floor but, fortunately, the thick carpets cushioned the impact. It felt as if the muscles of her jaw had been ripped and the bone shattered. The shock of the blow stunned her senseless.

Even though the room seemed to be spinning and tilting, she was determined to make herself return to her feet. Death’s Mistress did not cower. Death’s Mistress faced death indifferently.

Once up on her knees, she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the inside of a wrist as she worked to find her balance. Her jaw, despite the pain, seemed to be intact. She struggled to get her feet under her.

Before she managed to stand, Jillian rushed up between Nicci and Jagang.

“You leave her be!”

As Jagang planted his fists on his hips, glaring at the girl, Nicci stole a glance at Kahlan. Nicci recognized the glaze of pain in the woman’s eyes. By the way her fingers trembled, Nicci knew exactly what kind of pain Jagang was giving her through the collar. Such preemptive agony was meant to keep her where she was, keep her from interfering.

Nicci judged it to be, from Jagang’s perspective, a wise decision.

As far back as she could remember, Nicci had been able to appraise people and to do so quickly. It had become a valuable talent, since survival in violent encounters often depended on the accurate evaluation of those she faced. Nicci could tell just by looking at Kahlan that she was a dangerous woman, a woman who was used to interfering.

Jagang snatched Jillian by the back of her neck and lifted her like a troublesome kitten. She squealed—more in fright than pain—as he held her aloft and marched her across the room. She clawed at his big hands to no effect. Her feet kicked at empty air. Jagang lifted aside the heavy, padded wool hanging covering the opening into his bedchamber and tossed Jillian out.

“Armina! Watch the child. I want to be alone with my queen.”

Nicci could just see Sister Armina corral Jillian in her arms and draw her back into the darkness. A quick glance revealed Kahlan still in the same place on the rug, her whole body trembling slightly. A tear of agony ran down across her cheek. Nicci wondered if Jagang was even aware of how much pain he was giving Kahlan. He didn’t know his own strength—in more ways than one. His unchecked anger tended to be universal, encompassing not just his muscle, but his mental ability as well.

In the past he’d frequently beat Nicci more severely than he’d intended or, in a blind rage, used his ability as a dream walker to inflict what could easily have been a lethal dose of pain. Later, after he realized how close he’d come to killing her, he would apologize but eventually end up by saying that it had been her own fault for making him so angry.

As Jagang dropped the hanging, closing off his bedchamber, Kahlan’s tense muscles suddenly slackened. She sagged, panting in relief, looking hardly able to move after the silent ordeal.

“So,” Jagang said as he turned back to Nicci, “do you love him?”

Nicci blinked. “What?”

His face went red with rage as he closed on her. “What do you mean, what! You heard me!” He seized a fistful of her hair as he leaned to within inches of her. “Don’t try to pretend you didn’t understand me or I’ll rip your head off!”

Nicci smiled, lifting her chin as best she could, exposing her throat to him. “Please do. It will save us both a great deal of trouble.”

He glared a moment before releasing her hair. He smoothed it down, back into place, before he turned and moved off a few paces.

“Is that what you want? To die?” He turned back. “To abandon your duty to the Creator and the Order? To abandon your duty to me?”

Nicci shrugged indifferently. “Doesn’t matter much what I want, now, does it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know very well what it means. Since when has it mattered to you in the least what I want? You’re going to do what you want regardless of what I might have to say about it. After all, I am just a subject of the Order, am I not? I’d say that what you want is what you’ve always wanted—to finally kill me.”

“Kill you?” He spread his arms. “What makes you think I want to kill you?”

“Your self-indulgent actions.”

“Self-indulgent?” He glared at her askance. “I am hardly self-indulgent. I am Jagang the Just.”

“Are you forgetting that it was I who gave you that title? I did so not because it reflected any truth, but to counter the truth—to create an image that would serve the purposes of the Order. I am the one who created that image for you, knowing that unthinking people would believe it simply because we proclaimed it. You wouldn’t know how to fill the role if your life depended on it.”

The cloudy shapes in his eyes shifted in an inky darkness that reminded her of the underworld-black box of Orden she had put into play in Richard’s name.

“I don’t know how you can say such things, Nicci. I have always been more than just with you. I have given you things I have given no other. Why would I do that if I wanted to kill you?”

Nicci sighed impatiently. “Just say what you want to say, or bash in my skull, or send me off to the torture tents. I’m not much interested in playing this game with you. You believe what you wish to believe rega

rdless of reality. You know and I know that what I might have to say about anything is not really going to make any difference.”

“What you say has always made a difference.” He lifted a hand toward her as the heat in his voice also rose. “Look at what you just said about naming me Jagang the Just. That was your idea. I listened to it and used it because it was a good idea. It served our ends. You did well. I told you before that when this war is won you will sit at my side.”

Nicci didn’t answer him.

He clasped his hands behind his back as he took a few steps away.

“Do you love him?”

Nicci stole a glance to the side. Kahlan sat on the carpet, watching her. Kahlan’s face was etched with concern for the sense of threat in the air. It looked as if she would like to tell Nicci to stop provoking the man. Yet, while she obviously looked worried for what Jagang was going to do, she also looked interested in the answer to the emperor’s question.

Nicci’s head spun as she tried to think of how to respond—not out of concern for what Jagang might think of the answer, but out of worry for what Kahlan might. There was the Chainfire spell to consider, the need for a sterile field that Nicci had to take into account. The way it now seemed she would likely be dead by then, but if Richard ever somehow managed to get a chance to use Orden to counter the Chainfire event, Kahlan had to remain a sterile field if he was to have a chance to restore her to who she once had been.

“Do you?” Jagang repeated without looking back at her.

Nicci finally concluded that, for the purpose of maintaining a sterile field, it wouldn’t make any difference how she answered the question. It would not introduce any emotional precondition on Kahlan. It was Kahlan’s emotional connection with Richard, not Nicci’s, that mattered.

“My feelings have never burdened you before,” Nicci finally said, irritably. “What difference could it make to you?”