The Sword of the Truth, Book 12 - The Omen Machine (30 page)

W
ith his foot, Richard flipped over the carpet. He didn’t see the symbol that he had seen scratched into the floor of the corridors outside their previous bedrooms and the one he’d found outside Queen Catherine’s room after she had been killed. He was encouraged by that much of it. The symbol meant “Watch them.” He didn’t want anyone watching them while they slept, as they had done before.

He was concerned about the omen that the machine had given, the same one that Lauretta had written down, but at the moment he was far more concerned about Kahlan. He didn’t know whether the prophecy “A queen’s choice will cost her her life” was about Kahlan, as the first one about “Queen takes pawn” had been, or not, but at the moment he was more worried about taking care of the infected scratches on her arm. They would have to worry about the prophecy later.

Besides, trying to figure out what prophecy meant was a fool’s game.

For now, he wanted to get Kahlan in a comfortable place without the machine nearby where Zedd could put an herb poultice on her arm to draw out the infection while she got some much-needed rest.

He had hopes that this place would be safe, since it was not one of the bedchambers belonging to the Lord Rahl. In those bedrooms something had been watching them. Of course, he had later discovered that there were symbols scratched in the floors outside those rooms, but still, even without the symbols, he didn’t trust the official bedrooms for the Lord Rahl. They seemed too easy a target for forces he didn’t yet understand. Until he knew how those symbols got scratched on floors in well-guarded halls, as well as what their ultimate purpose was, he didn’t trust that those rooms would be safe.

This room was not one of the Lord Rahl’s bedrooms, but instead it was a secluded guest bedroom. The wing had no guests at the moment, so it wouldn’t have anyone near, and no one would really know that they were there. It was several floors above ground level, so no one could come in from outside. It wasn’t big, but Richard didn’t care about that. He simply wanted a safe place to sleep.

Before he could enter the room, Cara pushed in ahead of him. Benjamin already had men of the First File stationed at every intersection of halls throughout the whole wing of the palace. Rikka stood not far down the hallway to one side, Berdine on the other. Both were in their red leather. While he welcomed the guards outside the room, he didn’t really put too much faith in them stopping what really mattered to him. What had been in their room before, watching them, had without any trouble slipped past guards.

This time, Richard intended to have a little surprise if the mysterious watchers again came looking in.

With an arm around Kahlan’s waist, Richard led her into the room. He set the load of their packs and other gear down to the side. Cara came back from her inspection and gave him a nod to indicate that she didn’t see anything that caused her any concern in the room.

“What do you think?” he asked Kahlan.

Richard saw that her gaze took in only the bed. “Looks good to me.”

He was glad that she looked longingly at the bed. He was worried about her and wanted her to be able to get some sleep. Cara’s face, after surveying Kahlan’s, clearly reflected her concern as well.

Zedd gave Kahlan a gentle pat on the back as he came into the room behind them. “You get settled in, dear one. I’ll get a poultice prepared and be back as soon as I can to put it on your arm. Then you need to get some sleep. That will help more than anything.”

Kahlan nodded. Her face was ashen. By the look in her green eyes alone Richard knew how much pain she was in. He also knew that she didn’t want to worry him, so she wouldn’t admit the full extent of how she really felt. But he could see it clearly enough in her eyes.

Because they had been sleeping on the ground in the Garden of Life, Kahlan was in her traveling clothes of pants, a shirt, and boots.

“How about we get you out of those things and into bed?”

She shook her head and immediately crawled onto the bed.

Before they had left the Garden of Life, Nathan had tried healing her arm. He had no better luck than any of the rest of them had had. Richard was depending, now, on Zedd’s poultice to draw out the infection and some good old-fashioned sleep.

Zedd leaned toward Richard. “I’ll go make up a poultice and be right back.” He pointed and spoke in a low voice. “In the meantime, just to be on the safe side, get rid of those mirrors.”

There were twin mirrors over a dressing table. “Don’t worry,” Richard said, “I have something in mind for them.”

Once Zedd left, Richard did his own check of the room. Not that he didn’t trust Cara’s search, but he wanted to be sure. Since it was a single room and wasn’t very large at that, there wasn’t much to check.

The wardrobes smelled of aromatic cedar and were empty. At the back of the room there were double doors with glass panes. With the back of his hand, Richard pushed the drapes aside and looked out the glass into the darkness. There appeared to be a small terrace with a potted evergreen to the side up against the fat, waist-high stone railing. Out on the grounds far below, Richard saw a patrol of soldiers.

Once Cara left, Richard tried to get Kahlan to at least take off her boots. She fussed and said that she was cold and just wanted the blanket over her. Richard knew how when he had a headache and was throwing up and terribly sick to his stomach he didn’t want anyone messing with him, either. He carefully laid the comforter over Kahlan and gently tucked it up around her neck.

When Kahlan closed her eyes, he went to the drapes at the double doors in the back of the room and took off the fabric swag holding them back. At the dressing table, he took down the only two mirrors in the room. He placed the identical mirrors on the floor, standing face-to-face, and used the swag to tie them tightly together. When he was finished, he leaned the paired mirror up against the padded seat.

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, hugging Kahlan to warm her up and let her know that she wasn’t alone. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t say anything, but she let out a little sigh to let him know that she appreciated it.

Richard woke up when he heard a knock. It was Zedd, back with the poultice. Richard handed him the small canister of aum that he had retrieved from his pack. As Zedd used a wooden slat to mix the aum Richard gave him into the slightly yellowish concoction he had in a small bowl, Richard turned down the blanket and laid Kahlan’s arm out on top of it for him.

Kahlan sleepily opened her eyes, frowning, to see what he was doing, why he was disturbing her sleep. When Zedd slathered the poultice on her red, swollen arm, she winced in pain.

“It will be better soon,” he told her. Kahlan nodded as she closed her eyes.

Zedd wrapped bandaging around it as Richard held her wrist up for him. “This will not only help draw out the infection, it will draw out the pain as well. I also put in a little something that will help her to sleep.”

Richard nodded. “Thanks, Zedd. I’m kind of worried about how groggy and unaware she is.”

“She just doesn’t feel well and needs rest,” his grandfather assured him as he patted him on the shoulder. “You ought to get some sleep as well.”

Richard didn’t think he would be able to sleep. He just wanted to sit up and watch over Kahlan.

They both turned when they heard an odd, muted, distant cry of tortured anguish.

“Dear spirits,” Zedd said. “What in the world was that?”

Richard smiled as he pointed. “I put the two mirrors face-to-face. I think that something tried to look in on the room and they got a look of something they very much didn’t like seeing: their own reflection.”

Zedd laughed softly, trying not to wake Kahlan. “Now that, my boy, is a nice bit of magic.”

T
he situation calls for a choice, and I’ve made it,” Queen Orneta said. “My decision is final.”

The small gathering of representatives shared looks.

Duchess Marple set her cup down on the low table and leaned in a little as she looked up at Orneta. “So, you mean to say that you really believe, then, that Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor are agents of the Keeper? Seriously?”

Orneta noted that the woman clearly sounded more scandalized than incredulous. Her eyes, too, gleamed with the prize of such sordid gossip. Some people delighted in nothing more than bringing down the powerful with scandals of unsavory sins.

Orneta was not in the least bit interested in gossip, or throwing stones at the mighty. She was driven by more important concerns. She cared about the contemptible behavior because of what it meant for her and her people.

Others in the small group whispered their more serious worry to one another. Orneta had been having intensive talks with these people over recent days. They were among the representatives who were the most concerned about prophecy, who believed firmly in it, and who wanted it used to help guide them into the future. They were greatly troubled that the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor wouldn’t share prophecy with them. They felt that their views were being ignored.

Orneta had never really known these people to be all that concerned with prophecy, but recently it had taken center stage in their lives. It was much the same with her. She supposed that since peace had come, so had broader concerns about the future.

As they had learned from the intimate discussions with Orneta and Ludwig, there could be only one explanation as to why Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor refused to share prophecy.

Orneta gestured to Ludwig. “As Abbot Dreier has revealed, a number of places in prophecy have been discovered that name Lord Rahl ‘the bringer of death.’ I take no satisfaction in telling you this. Nor do you need to take my word for it. Though I doubt that it would be wise to ask Lord Rahl to show you the reference material, it is available. Bishop Arc, reluctantly, would show it to you if you insisted on seeing it with your own eyes.”

The notion that the Keeper of the world of the dead was influencing and using their leaders for his own ends was clearly alarming. Most didn’t want to believe it was true, but they could not argue the evidence.

“Who but the Creator, who has created all things, would know the future?” Ludwig asked. “Since the Creator knows all things, how would He warn us, His creation, of dangers He sees for us in the future?”

Eyes big, everyone leaned in a little. “Prophecy,” Ludwig said in answer to his own question. “The Creator uses omens to warn us of danger only He can see. Clearly, the Nameless One would want to suppress that means of salvation, would he not? Would he not want to possess the most trusted among us to conceal those prophecies from us and thus to insure that we are more easily delivered into the arms of death itself?”

The implication was clear. Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor, in hiding prophecy from these leaders, could only be working toward the Keeper’s ends.

It was a sobering conclusion, and one that these people did not take lightly, one that, even for the duchess, transcended mere gossip. Orneta thought that maybe they needed a little demonstration of proper resolve to help them make up their minds as to what to do about it.

She loosely grasped Ludwig’s arm. “Would you please send word to Bishop Arc that we could use his guidance where matters of prophecy are concerned? Let him know that there are some of us who view prophecy, as does he, as vital to our future, and we would like to be kept informed of what prophecy says. Let him know, also, that in return for his help, I, for one, have decided that he will have my loyalty, and the loyalty of my people.”

The whispering started in again. There were also nods of approval.

Ludwig bowed his head. “Of course, Queen Orneta. I know that Bishop Arc will be humbled by your words. I can assure you, on his behalf, that wherever the future may lead our people, Bishop Arc and I will continue to use prophecy to guide us so that we all may know the dangers along the path to our common good.”

“I wish that Lord Rahl would do as much,” Ambassador Grandon said. He tugged on the end of his pointed beard as he shook his head in sincere regret. “We’re not picking sides in a conflict— we’re all on the same side, after all— so I sincerely hope that Lord Rahl won’t see our desire to align ourselves with Bishop Arc as any kind of betrayal.”

Urgent murmurs of agreement passed among those gathered. They wanted to side with prophecy, but they trod lightly where treason was concerned. These people were loyal to the D’Haran Empire, but they also wanted prophecy to guide D’Hara.

Orneta leaned both hands on the broad marble railing and gazed out over the vast corridors of the People’s Palace below. Sunlight streamed in from glassed sections overhead. Below, the crowds, lit by streamers of sunlight, moved through the halls, or gathered in groups, as did the intimate group up in the small but comfortable sitting area of the balcony.

“Treason, you mean,” Orneta said without turning back. “That’s what you really mean. You mean that you hope that Lord Rahl won’t see this choice as treason.”

“Well yes,” Grandon said. “That’s not the way I see it, or even remotely my intent. We are still loyal to the D’Haran Empire, still value Lord Rahl, it’s just that…”

Ludwig, sipping on wine as he listened, arched an eyebrow. “Just that if Bishop Arc were to be Lord Arc, he would be better suited to managing the peace, than a Lord Rahl, who was better at managing the war.”

The ambassador lifted a finger. “That’s a good way of putting it. We are loyal to the D’Haran Empire, and, as I said, we value Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor and all they’ve done for us, but we believe that Bishop Arc— Lord Arc as you suggest— with his broad knowledge and familiarity with prophecy, would be better suited in a leadership role. Since he would be guided by prophecy, he would be better able to maintain the peace and help us all take the safest path into the future.”

Among the dozen and a half people gathered, there were nods and whispers of agreement to Ambassador Grandon’s wisdom.

“I would hope as much myself,” Orneta said. “Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor have fought hard to bring us to victory. I— we—are all greatly indebted to them. I fear, though, that somewhere along the line they have succumbed to the influence of dark whispers, so now we must do what is in the best interest of our people. It is our responsibility to now embrace the guidance of Lord Arc. That is my choice, and it is final.”

Ambassador Grandon dipped his head in a single but firm nod. “It must be.”

The duchess took refuge in sipping her tea rather than voice such a profound and final choice. Others in the group, though, did voice their solemn agreement.

Orneta was gratified that Ludwig had such a responsible position in culling prophecy from every source possible and delivering it to Bishop Arc so that he might use it in guiding his rule of Fajin Province. It now seemed that Bishop Arc would be better suited to a position as Lord Arc in guiding all the lands, rather than just Fajin Province.

When Orneta looked up from taking a drink of wine, she saw a Mord-Sith in red leather coming around a corner in the distance. As she marched their way, the Mord-Sith’s gaze was fixed on Orneta.