Confessor (Sword of Truth 11) - Page 79

As the emperor’s team recovered, they muscled men aside and managed to keep the broc. On their feet again, they fought to get past the defenders. Several men on Richard’s team were left on the ground, rolling in pain. The crowd yelled frenzied encouragement to the emperor’s team. Their point man dodged this way and that, going around some men, knocking others aside.

Kahlan’s guards, hearing the rabid cheering, inched ever forward, trying to see what was happening. That left more empty space back away from the sideline, where Kahlan was. The press of spectators lining the slope behind, all their weight pushing forward, down toward the field, was causing the area reserved for the emperor to be squeezed in from both sides. Toward the front, where Jagang was, the royal guards kept the excited crowds to each side back, but even they were caught up in the frantic struggle on the Ja’La field; they weren’t paying as much attention behind, where the space was slowly shrinking.

Kahlan tightened her left arm protectively around Jillian, keeping her close as the special guards, having less and less space, started to inch forward where there was more room up closer to the action. The ones who had been behind her pressed in close, squeezing past as they slowly, steadily moved toward the front.

Nicci, having been forgotten by the emperor as he became completely caught up in the action, took a step back, out of the way. That allowed Kahlan’s guards space to move forward. It looked natural, like she was merely trying not to interfere with what they wanted.

Jagang, like everyone else, cheered, groaned, cursed, and yelled at the teams on the field. Darkness had long ago settled in, lending an otherworldly mood to the event. Torches lining the edge of the field cast flickering light to the open patch of ground surrounded by a sea of black. Between many of the torches archers watched with arrows nocked. But even they were caught up in the emotions of the game, watching the action more than they seemed to be watching the captives.

Kahlan felt as if she were at the center of a boiling, churning, frenzied ritual dedicated to violence. The crowd not only yelled and cheered, but they began to chant, stamping feet in time to those chants as their team raced across the field. The ground shook under those hundreds of thousands of boots all slamming down together. The night, dark and overcast, felt like it was filled with continuous, booming thunder.

The mood was bewitching. It even caught Kahlan up in it.

She, along with all those watching, felt as if she were out there, on the field, running with the men. Her heart pounded as she watched Richard dodge tackles, duck under an outstretched arm, and slip between men diving for him. She winced, half turning away when men were hit. Many of the spectators groaned, almost as if they themselves had taken the blow.

As the hourglass marked the turns, the score went back and forth. As she watched, though, Kahlan saw Richard fail to make scores that she felt sure he could have made. He would seem to slow just enough so that a man could catch and tackle him. One time he threw and missed.

He was falling in the mud again, so to speak. This time, she didn’t know why.

As the game wore on it became ever more clear to her that he was manipulating the score, keeping it close. When the emperor’s team would score, it wouldn’t be long before he would make an answering score to stay even, but then he would fail to follow up and make another—until the emperor’s team scored again. Turn after turn of the hourglass went scoreless. It stood at seven points each.

She could tell by the way he moved that he was not merely holding back for some reason, but he was also saving his energy. The other team was wearing themselves out. Richard did what was necessary but no more.

Such a close match only served to heat the emotions of the hillsides of spectators into fevered expectations. Many of them cheered, clapped, whistled, and yelled for the team they favored, while others shook fists and shouted curses at the team they opposed. Here and there fights broke out among the spectators. They ended up being brief because everyone wanted to watch the game.

Kahlan, having watched Nicci’s slow progress, saw that she had managed to ease herself half a dozen steps behind Jagang. No one was paying any attention to her. Jagang had glanced back twice, only half looking, satisfied that she was close enough at hand.

Kahlan could see women camp followers, out near the edge of the field, just as wildly excited as the vast crowd, beginning to bare their breasts as men ran past. While the territory up close to the sidelines was highly prized, and often fought over, women at the matches were freely allowed access right up to the edge of the field. Throngs of men, knowing how worked up the women were, how eager they were to catch the attention of the players, egged them on. The women seemed to crave the attention. Over the deafening noise of the crowd Kahlan could hear some of the nearby women up at the sidelines yell lewd promises for the victors as players ran by.

Ordinarily, women behaving in such a manner among the men of the Order would not be free for long, but the soldiers were far more interested in the game on the field. The conduct of the women only added to the debauched atmosphere. It was all part of Ja’La dh Jin.

When Nicci slipped close enough, Jillian reached out and touched her hand. “Are you all right?” she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “We were so worried for you.”

Cupping the girl’s cheek, Nicci smiled briefly as she nodded in answer.

“He’s up to something,” Nicci said under her breath as she leaned a little closer to Kahlan.

“I know.”

“This may be a chance for you to escape. I’ll do all I can to help you. Be ready.”

With the collar around her neck Kahlan didn’t know what chance she could possibly have to escape. She was heartened by the sentiment, though, even if she thought it was completely unrealistic. While Kahlan didn’t

believe that she had any real chance of escape, it might be an opportunity for something else, something that could save others.

When Nicci glanced over again, Kahlan lifted out her hand just a little, hiding what was underneath, in her palm.

“Here. Take this.”

When Nicci only frowned, Kahlan turned the hand over briefly, just long enough for Nicci to see the handle of the knife. The blade was pressed up along Kahlan’s wrist, under the sleeve of her shirt.

“Keep it,” Nicci said. “You may need it.”

“I still have two.”

Nicci stared for a moment in surprise, then tilted her head, indicating that Kahlan should give the knife to Jillian. Jillian pulled her cloak open just enough to show Nicci the knife Kahlan had already given her.

Nicci looked up at Kahlan. “Knives are not my talent.”

“It’s not hard,” Kahlan said as she pressed the handle into Nicci’s hand. “When the time is right, just stick the pointed end somewhere important in someone you really don’t like.”

Nicci’s blue eyes stole a glance at Jagang. “I think I can do that much.”

Kahlan thought that Nicci, standing there in the soft torchlight, her blond hair tumbled down over her strong shoulders, was probably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though. Despite what Jagang did to her, she remained undaunted. There was an inner strength about her, a nobility.

“Is he Richard Rahl?” Kahlan asked.

Nicci’s blue eyes turned back to Kahlan and stared for a moment.

“Yes.”

“What’s he doing here?”

The slightest smile curved Nicci’s mouth. “He’s Richard Rahl.”

“Do you know what he’s up to?”

Nicci shook her head the slightest bit as her gaze swept over all the guards, checking to make sure none were paying any attention to either of them. Through gaps they could see men painted with wild red designs race past.

Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy
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