The Third Kingdom (39 page)

The blond woman’s eyes turned to him as she shook her head. “Can’t say that I have.”

He turned his attention back to Ester. “And how were you able to stop this attack?”

“Lord Rahl killed them all.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said that they were dead men. How could he kill men who were already dead?”

“Not killed them, exactly.” She made little swishing motions with her hand. “Hacked them to pieces, actually. Hacked them to bits and had us burn the pieces.”

He sighed audibly. “Ah, well, thank goodness Lord Rahl was handy, at least. It might have been a slaughter, otherwise.”

“Yes,” Ester said, “it would have been, but it was still a horrible ordeal for the people here. Many people lost their lives. Many more were seriously injured. We are all still trying to recover from it, trying to help those who were hurt and are still suffering.”

“Well,” the abbot said, “I can certainly understand that the people of Stroyza have a lot on their hands at the moment.” He rubbed a finger back and forth on his chin, frowning in thought. “Maybe we can find someone else who would want to volunteer in place of someone from your village.”

Ester quickly dipped her head. “The consideration would be very much appreciated, Abbot.”

His deliberate gaze turned to Kahlan.

“What are you doing here, Dreier?” Kahlan asked in a cold tone to bring the phony chitchat to a halt.

He shrugged with a smile. “Why, seeking help with prophecy, Mother Confessor, that’s all. I am but a humble servant of Bishop Hannis Arc. I provide him with prophecy so that it might help guide him in his rule of Fajin Province. And, I suppose, the rule of other lands that have so recently come to him for such guidance as he may be able to provide.”

Ester inched forward, still fumbling with the button. She gestured toward Kahlan.

“Abbot Dreier, I’m afraid that the Mother Confessor is quite ill. She has been through a terrible ordeal herself. I was just tending to her. She is very weak and needs rest.

“I know that you would want her to get that crucial rest so that she might get well as soon as possible.” She tilted her head forward just a bit. “I’m sure that Lord Rahl would appreciate your understanding about his wife’s recent ordeal, and be grateful to you for leaving her to her rest.”

Dreier stared at the woman for a moment with that frozen smile of his and then made a show of glancing around. “Lord Rahl—is he about, then? He hacked those dead men to pieces, so he must be around. I would like to congratulate him, personally, on behalf of the people of not only Stroyza, but all of Fajin Province for his brave assistance in stopping such a dire threat. He has once again proven himself the protector of innocent people. I would personally like to thank him.”

Ester cleared her throat. “I’m afraid that he had to leave—briefly. He should be back anytime, I’m sure. Anytime.”

“I see.” The abbot smoothed the front of his coat. “Well, in the meantime, I myself have a bit of talent with healing. I should lend a hand, as it were, to assist our Mother Confessor.”

“But Samantha already …” Ester’s voice trailed off when he turned an icy glare on her.

After the look had backed Ester a step, he turned back to Kahlan and went to one knee beside her. He reached out to touch her forehead. She pulled her head back, out of his reach as she put her arm up to to block his hand.

“That won’t be necessary. I only need rest, now.”

Before she could stop him, he pushed her arm away. “Now, now, Mother Confessor, don’t be shy about accepting my small offer of help. Won’t take but a moment to see if there is anything more that I might be able to do.”

His first two fingers touched her forehead. He bowed his head in concentration. “Let me just check to see …”

The oddest look came over his face. His eyes abruptly turned up to meet her gaze.

And then the slightest hint of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he leaned back.

“Well,” he said, “it seems that you have had a healing recently. A fine one at that. I can feel it. I can sense the residual effects of the gift used to heal you.”

Ester stole a quick glance at Kahlan. “As I said, Sammie worked some healing on her. She said that the Mother Confessor now only needs to rest.”

The abbot stood, giving the Mord-Sith a meaningful look.

“I think she is well enough to travel. I can be of invaluable assistance with her recovery once we get her back to the abbey.”

“No,” Ester said, more firmly in spite of her fear of the man. “No, she needs to rest right now, right here. Lord Rahl will want her to rest. He won’t want her moved.”

The abbot casually lifted a finger toward Ester. The woman shuddered. Her fingers trembled as she blinked in confusion. Panting as if in pain, she backed away a few steps. Kahlan wasn’t sure exactly what the man had done, but it was now
clear that he was powerfully gifted and that he was hurting Ester.

In all his time at the palace, Abbot Dreier had keep that relevant fact hidden, never revealing that he was gifted.

“Now,” he said down to Kahlan, “I think you should come along with us. We will be better able to see to your needs at the abbey.”

“I’m afraid that I must decline your kind offer,” Kahlan said in a chilling tone.

Abbot Dreier stared for a moment without showing any emotion and then turned to the Mord-Sith. “Please bring the Mother Confessor along. I will wait out front.”

He seized Ester’s arm and pushed her out of the room ahead of him. He paused and from the doorway looked back at Kahlan.

“Mord-Sith can be quite persuasive. I advise you to cooperate as she helps escort you out to our waiting coach.”

With that he left, pulling the door closed behind himself.

After Dreier closed the door, the Mord-Sith smiled that way Mord-Sith smiled that could make you forget to breathe.

“We weren’t introduced. I am Erika. Mistress Erika to you.” Kahlan glared.

Erika heaved an impatient sigh. “So, it’s going to be like that, is it?”

“Get out,” Kahlan said.

Erika spread her hands with mock decorum. “I’m afraid that the abbot has invited you to come along. He asked me to assist you. He would be very disappointed in me if I didn’t do as he asked. Believe me, I have no wish to disappoint the abbot.”

“We all are bound to disappoint someone now and again,” Kahlan said.

The Mord-Sith dispensed with the smile. She rolled her fingers in a commanding gesture.

“Get up.”

“I can’t. I’m rather weak from my recent injuries that have only just been healed.”

“Perhaps you misunderstood me. You must have thought that I was asking you.” The smile reappeared. “I wasn’t. I was telling you. Now, get up.”

Kahlan thought the wordplay was childish. She was not about to be intimidated by a Mord-Sith, of all people. This one, by all rights, shouldn’t even exist. If she even was a real Mord-Sith.

It occurred to Kahlan once again that the woman might simply be window dressing for an arrogant man, a woman who had convinced herself she could play the part of a real Mord-Sith. She appeared to be a woman who enjoyed pretending to be important and powerful so she could intimidate people and watch them cower.

Kahlan was not about to cower before this woman.

She rocked forward enough to get her feet under her. After being unconscious for so long, she found that the effort made her heart pound. She hadn’t been on her feet for a quite a while and she felt incredibly weak.

She crouched a moment, getting her balance, trying to summon enough strength to not show this haughty woman any weakness. Kahlan was, after all, the Mother Confessor.

With effort, she stood, if not to her full height, then at least most of the way. She couldn’t stretch the last little bit at her waist. It felt like all of her abdominal muscles had shrunk, keeping her from straightening to her full height, which would have probably been an inch or two taller than the Mord-Sith if Kahlan could have stood fully upright.

“Now,” Kahlan said through gritted teeth as she looked the woman in the eye, “get out. I will not ask you again.”

An eyebrow lifted over one cold blue eye. “Or what?”

“I don’t know where you came from, but you appear not to know much about anything.”

Erika shrugged. “I know that Abbot Dreier asked me to bring you along. That is enough. What else is there to know, Mother Confessor?”

“ ‘Confessor’ is the operative word.”

The Mord-Sith frowned a little. “Really? In what way?”

“You are apparently unaware of the danger a Confessor poses to a Mord-Sith—or a woman posing as a Mord-Sith.”

“Danger? From you?” She smiled again, this time with what appeared to be genuine amusement. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you have any idea what a mistake it is for a Mord-Sith to attempt to use her Agiel on a Confessor? The results are beyond gruesome and all Mord-Sith know it. It is a death they all greatly fear.”

“Really?” Erika cocked her head with an earnest frown. “How interesting. Well, I don’t have to use an Agiel on you, you know. You look to be pretty weak.” A dangerous look came into the woman’s eyes. “Even if you were in the best of health, I don’t think I would need to use my Agiel to handle you.”

Kahlan didn’t know what was going on, or how it had come to this, but she knew in that moment that she was going to need to unleash her power on this woman, and it was not going to be pretty.

“You are about to cross a line from which you will never, ever be able to step back,” Kahlan warned in a deadly tone. “I suggest you call it quits now, Erika, while you have the chance.”

“I don’t think so, Mother Confessor. Like I said, I can handle you without my Agiel. More importantly, as I told you before, it is Mistress Erika to you.”

The Mord-Sith spun the Agiel up into her fist.

It was an open threat, a hostile act that had now gone too far. For whatever crazy reason, this woman was not going to stop until Kahlan stopped her.

In Kahlan’s mind, the deed was already done. This woman had crossed a line from which there was no walking back. Kahlan was already letting the restraint on her power begin to slip its bounds in preparation for releasing her inherent ability.

The Mord-Sith gritted her teeth. “But in this case I prefer to use my Agiel.”

With that, the woman slammed the weapon into Kahlan’s middle.

Kahlan expected the ignition of power that would bring the attack to a halt before it could ever be completed. She expected to feel the hammering thump of silent thunder that would shake the walls and forever change who this woman was.

Instead, Kahlan’s mouth opened in a shock of pain the likes of which she had only felt a few times in her life.

The nerve-shattering shock of it stunned her, took her breath. She doubled over around the Agiel. It felt like a bolt of lightning threatening to rip her in half. Her mind went blank of everything but the complete and total understanding of that terrible, all-consuming agony.

She heard herself screaming.

She felt herself hit the floor.

The pain of the Agiel, even though it was no longer touching her, had been so overwhelming that waves of jolting shocks still filled her mind, preventing her from forming a thought or even getting her breath.

Confused, disoriented, trembling from head to foot, Kahlan rolled over onto her back, her knees pulled up, her arms pressed across the pain knifing through her abdomen. Through tears of agony, she looked up at the woman in black leather standing tall and still over her, watching her.

An eyebrow lifted. “You were saying?”

“How …?” was all Kahlan could manage to get out through the still-shuddering pain pulsing through every nerve in her body.

Erika shrugged a shoulder. “Well, Mother Confessor, as you have probably surmised by now, your power does not work. For you to be a threat to me—as you have so vividly described and as you so wholeheartedly intended—your power has to work.” The cruel smile returned. “Don’t you suppose?”

Kahlan couldn’t understand what was happening. She was having trouble forming the simplest of thoughts. A cascade of questions and confusion overwhelmed her ability to think clearly.

“But even if it doesn’t respond for you, that power is still resident within you and you fully intended to use that power on me, now didn’t you? You tried to. You committed to it.” She waggled a finger. “That was enough.”

Kahlan didn’t understand any of it. At that moment, she could only understand that she was in trouble and there was no one who could help her.

The Mord-Sith planted a boot in Kahlan’s middle, over the spot where she had used her Agiel, and leaned over enough to rest an elbow on her knee. “And now you are mine.”

Kahlan still couldn’t talk and with the boot pressing down, couldn’t draw a full breath. The Mord-Sith removed the boot from Kahlan’s middle and straightened, rolling her Agiel in her fingers in a threatening manner.

“Now, I asked you a question, Mother Confessor. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” She leaned down, gritted her teeth, and pointed her Agiel at Kahlan’s face. “Is that clear?”

Kahlan couldn’t make herself stop trembling from the still-lingering pain. She supposed that if she weren’t in such a weakened condition, she might be able to better tolerate the touch of the Agiel. But, given what an Agiel was capable of, probably not a whole lot better. If a Mord-Sith wished it, the touch of an Agiel could be fatal.

What Kahlan couldn’t reconcile in her own mind was how this woman could really be Mord-Sith.

For a moment Erika watched Kahlan’s agony with grim satisfaction. Finally, she reached down, seized Kahlan’s hair in her fist, pulled her to her feet, and shoved Kahlan toward the door.

Kahlan finally drew a full breath. Her anger flared. She spun to the woman, determined to put a stop to the situation.

The Agiel again rammed into Kahlan’s middle.

Kahlan didn’t know how long she lay curled up on the floor
the second time. She didn’t think she lost consciousness, but the pain had been so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that it was hard to tell if she had remained fully awake or not. She couldn’t reconcile how long it had been. The concept of time seemed to become meaningless and the world made no sense.