“You have made a poor first impression, Shale,” he told her.
She blinked in surprise at someone being so blunt with her. It was obvious she was not at all used to anyone taking that tone with her. Her gaze fell away as she blushed.
“I apologize, Lord Rahl,” she said after a moment. “One of my bad habits.” She bowed her head. “If it pleases you, may I start over?”
“I tend to share that same bad habit,” Richard said with a small smile. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, and what’s so urgent that you would come up out of turn?”
She took a breath to settle herself before beginning. “As I said, I come from the Northern Waste. It’s a barren land far from here, a harsh place to live, but there are those who live there, many like me because they were born there and it’s all they know. Others because they feel lost in the world and so they want to become lost in the Waste. It’s a harsh place to live, and a harsher place to die.”
“And you are their leader? Their queen or something?”
She blushed again. “I don’t have so important a title. I… watch over them. They think of me as their shepherd, I guess you could say. I have no title as such. I am simply known as Shale. For the people in the Northern Waste, that name is title enough.”
He imagined it was. By the undulating, crackling look of her aura, he was sure it was.
“I think you are more than simply ‘Shale’. You are a witch woman?”
She lifted her chin, looking a little startled. “Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“My mother was a witch woman, but my father was a wizard. That combination made me a bit of both. I am a sorceress—with the gift from my father’s side—and a witch woman from my mother. I am told that such a combination makes me… unique.”
That explained the aura. “Each of us is unique in our own way,” Richard said.
Her brow bunched as she peered at him. “What an odd thing to say.”
“Not so odd. Please go on.”
“For some reason my parentage makes me adept at healing, among other things. The people of the Northern Waste depend on me for that ability, among those other things, when in dire circumstances.”
“So why have you come here?”
“The Waste is a forgotten place, but it does have its advantages. When there were cruel rulers in the past, such as Darken Rahl, living in a forgotten place was not such a bad thing. With men like Darken Rahl in power, some would say it was a blessing. Men like Darken Rahl would have eliminated a woman like me.”
“Or enslaved you.”
“Could be. Men of power don’t tend to like others with brains and ability. Especially women. I heard it said during the great war that you were different. And now word of the war ending has finally reached us. Word of a peace under the D’Haran Empire is welcome news.
“I have come to offer the loyalty of the Northern Waste to the Lord Rahl and the D’Haran Empire.”
Richard bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“But now that I am here,” she said, her brow drawing down again as her voice took on a dark edge, “I find the new Lord Rahl is an idiot.”
All the Mord-Sith flicked their Agiel up into their fists.
Shale noted it with indifference.
Vika, in her red leather, leaned in on Richard’s left side to point her Agiel at the woman on the other side of the heavy table. “I indulged you the first time you said that. I will not allow the second time to pass.”
Richard put his left arm out to stop Vika from launching over the table at Shale. “Let me handle this.” He gave the angry Mord-Sith a patient look. “Please?”
Vika finally relented and moved back, but not as far as before, and she didn’t drop her Agiel.
“I can let insults pass as they are merely words, but I would like to know the reason for it.”
Shale put her fists on the table and leaned in toward him.
“What did that fat pig in white robes tell you?”
“Some crazy nonsense about wanting us to surrender our world.”
“Didn’t I also hear him say that you are the last of the Rahl line, and that your wife is the last Confessor, and that when you two die his goddess will then have our world?”
“Yes, that’s right. What of it?”
Her expression hardened. “In other words, for this goddess to take over our world, your line must end, the Mother Confessor’s line must end. You must die. Your wife must die. That man said as much, either by execution or assassination.”
Richard nodded. “That’s the gist of it.”
“He said your wife needs to die,” Shale repeated carefully as she cocked her head. “And you let her be alone with him?”
Richard stared at Shale a moment. He blinked.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Nice to know we agree.”
Just then, Cassia raced into the room, vaulted over the railing without missing a beat, and bounded up the steps to the raised area with the table. She gulped air, trying to catch her breath enough to talk.
“Lord Rahl! You have to come quick! Something happened! Something bad!”
5
Richard charged through the hallways and corridors behind a frantic Cassia toward the room where Kahlan had taken Nolo for questioning—a place where she could use her Confessor power without having to worry about hurting anyone else.
A lone man had never been a threat to Kahlan. Rather, her Confessor power made her an overwhelming threat to him. Richard couldn’t imagine what could have gone wrong. Whatever had happened, he didn’t want to waste time questioning Cassia—
He just wanted to get to Kahlan.
When Richard had raced out of the great hall, Shale had followed close on his heels. The rest of the Mord-Sith ran in a cluster behind them. Behind the Mord-Sith a large force of men of the First File flooded through the narrow halls and wide passageways like a raging torrent of dark water. All their weapons hanging from belts filled the halls with a metallic jangle.
As they abruptly spilled into a round entrance hall that was painted white, Cassia slid to a stop on the polished black and white marble floor.
“Here, Lord Rahl! This is where they are.” Cassia frantically shook her hand toward a heavy oak door, then raced around a table with stone mountain lions for legs. “In here! I tried hard as I could but I couldn’t get the door open.”
Richard could hear eerie shrieks and howls coming from the other side of the door.
“Why is this door bolted on the outside?” he yelled at Cassia as he slammed the bolt back out of the way.
“It—it wasn’t, Lord Rahl,” she stammered in surprise. “I swear. We never bolted the door. As I stood guard, everything suddenly shook like lightning had hit the palace, but there was no sound of thunder. Then I heard screams and howling. One of those screams was from the Mother Confessor.
“I tried frantically to open the door to help her, but I couldn’t. Maybe the door was bolted from the other side as well, I don’t know, but this side was not bolted when I came to get you, I swear.”
Richard tried to open the door as she was talking, but it wouldn’t budge. After slamming into it with his shoulder twice, he knew it was too big and heavy, and with its massive metal strap hinges they were not going to simply break it down. Howls were still coming from the other side.
Driven by urgent need, Richard’s right hand went to the hilt of his sword at his left hip. The rage from the sword was already rising to meet his. Those twin furies, his and the sword’s, spiraled together into a storm of lethal power.
In a near trance of rage, their power joined, Richard drew the sword. The steel, with its dark metallic gleam from having been touched by the world of the dead, rang out as it cleared the scabbard and emerged into the air for the first time in what seemed ages. That singular, deadly sound echoed through the hallways and corridors.