The assembled crowd finished the devotion in that same joined, haunting voice. “In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”
This, Richard knew, this bond of his people to him, and him to his people, was what the Golden Goddess feared. It was empathy charged with magic. It bound them together—the people as the steel against steel and the Lord Rahl as the magic against magic. That unity made them stronger. And yet, he didn’t know if it was strong enough. What he did know was that this bond was their only hope.
Away from the People’s Palace the devotion was spoken once as a reminder, a reinforcement of the bond. But since the palace itself had been constructed in the form of a spell, the power of that spoken devotion was amplified and reinforced. Because of that, at the palace, the seat of power of the Lord Rahl, the devotion was recited three times, three times a day, a reflection of the magical power of nine.
Once the third devotion had ended, Richard signaled Lieutenant Dolan to remain behind as the men went off to inform the rest of the First File of the situation.
“I need to talk to one of the palace officials. Someone who knows about the people living here and about the guests staying here, if possible.”
The lieutenant briefly twisted his mouth in thought. He looked from the devotion square off down the adjacent broad corridor.
“This wing of the People’s Palace is where the Lord Rahl’s quarters are located. It is also the section where the highest officials are located. Those offices are not far from here. I think the man you’re looking for is Mr. Burkett. He oversees the administrators of each section of the palace.
“You may remember him from when you met petitioners in the great hall. He was there to help with details.” The lieutenant tapped his chin with a finger. “Small chin. All top teeth.”
Richard couldn’t begin to remember all the people he had met, but he did remember most of the faces of the palace officials. He remembered that face if not the name. He had been an accommodating man, cheerfully helping with all the tedious arrangements and requests of the visiting dignitaries.
While the Lord Rahl issued sweeping orders, it was the palace officials who had to see them carried out. The People’s Palace, after all, was more of a busy city atop the plateau than simply a palace. It was home to many thousands, not to mention the thousands more men of the First File.
“I remember him,” Richard said with a nod. “Where is his office?”
“Why don’t I take you there,” Lieutenant Dolan said as he held his hand out in invitation.
Kahlan took Richard’s arm as they followed behind the officer. Vika and Shale followed close behind them. The rest of the Mord-Sith, all in their red leather, were swept along in their wake. Richard was sad to see the Mord-Sith no longer in the white leather, as he had asked them to wear in the great hall to signify peacetime. With their red leather on, they now all looked deadly serious, and no longer the least bit peaceful.
The lieutenant led them up a broad staircase made of cream-colored marble. The treads were rounded over on the front edge from all the people who had climbed those stairs through the ages.
On the upper level, they crossed a bridge with short walls capped with speckled granite. Those short walls acted as solid railings to either side. The bridge provided a dizzying view of one of the massive main corridors in the palace. Glassed areas of the roof let the gloomy light filter down to brighten the vast space.
Far below, people going about their business moved along in every direction. Some walked at a leisurely pace, while others hurried. Many of these people lived and worked in the palace. Others had always dreamed of visiting the splendor of the People’s Palace. Now that Richard was the Lord Rahl and the world was at peace, they felt it was finally safe to do so.
In places along the sides of the corridor below, there were shops, some with colorful awnings, that sold everything from herbs, to leather goods, to pottery, to trinkets so that visitors could remember their visit to the palace. There were also many different kinds of shops that sold food. There were butchers selling meat, farmers selling vegetables, and people who sold wild things they collected such as herbs and mushrooms. Many of the shops cooked day and night to supply meals. People could get cooked meat on a stick, deep-fried potatoes and fish in paper wrappers, and bowls of stew they ate at small tables right outside the shops. The aromas were intoxicating.
Once they were across the bridge and a short distance down the balcony that overlooked the grand corridor, Lieutenant Dolan finally came to a halt in front of an open doorway. He held his hand out, indicating that this was the place.
Richard rapped with his knuckles on the doorframe as he stepped into the room.
Mr. Burkett was hunched over a sizable desk that looked too small for all the stacks of scrolls, candles, a collection of official seals and sealing wax, and papers of every sort lying every which way. Maps of sections of the palace were pinned to one wall. Another wall held long lists of names.
The man jumped in surprise and then shot to his feet when he saw who it was. His blue-edged robes had three gold bands on the sleeves, marking him as an official of importance. In his haste to stand, he accidentally knocked several scrolls from a pile; they rolled off the side of the desk, then bounced across the floor. One of the open papers fluttered away as if it had flown off in a panic.
“Lord Rahl,” the man said, grinning broadly as he tried to catch the paper that had taken flight, “what an honor to have you visit my humble office.”
Richard caught the paper as it floated down like a leaf in autumn. He handed it to the man. “Mr. Burkett, I came because I need your help.”
Vika squeezed into the room behind Kahlan and Shale. The rest of the Mord-Sith had to wait outside, because there wasn’t enough room for them in the small office.
“Anything, Lord Rahl. Anything at all. How can I help?”
“Can you tell me, are there gifted living in the palace?” Richard held a hand out to Kahlan and then to Shale on either side of him. “Present company excluded.”
“Yes, of course, Lord Rahl.” Mr. Burkett had such a strong overbite that it gave his speech a distinctive, slightly slurred quality. “There are a number of gifted people living in the palace.”
Mr. Burkett started rummaging through the papers on his desk, shoving piles aside as he mumbled to himself. He finally found what he was looking for and yanked it out from under stacks of other papers. He caught a wooden candlestand just before it toppled over. “Yes, here it is. We keep a list. Any gifted visitor is also required to state as much when they arrive so that we can also keep track of them because …”
“Because in the past the Lord Rahl was insistent on knowing who around him was gifted,” Richard finished for him.
Mr. Burkett cleared his throat. “Yes, well, even though you are the new Lord Rahl and unlike in the past don’t harbor animosity toward them, we still keep a list of who they are, as well as where these gifted people live …”
“In case their services are needed by the palace?”
The man’s face brightened. “Yes, exactly.”
Richard frowned. “How many are there?”
Mr. Burkett scratched his scalp as he reviewed the list for a moment. “Actually, Lord Rahl, there are not many. At least not as many as one would expect, considering the size of the palace and the number of people living here.”