Shota's vision—what she foresaw in the flow of time as the world's hopeless future if they failed to do something to stop the Imperial Ordercertainly didn't seem to Richard to have required any great talent or special sight. He didn't need to be a prophet to see how dire a threat the Order was. If not stopped, they would rule the world. Jebra, in that sense, had told him nothing new, nothing that he didn't already know.
Richard recognized all too well that, the way things stood, when the forces of the D'Haran Empire finally met Jagang's army in the final battle, those brave men, who were all that stood in the Order's way, were all going to die. After that, there would be no opposition to the Imperial Order. They would rampage unchecked and in the end they would rule the world.
Shota was far from stupid, so she obviously knew all that, and had to know that he would know it as well.
So, he wondered, why was she really there?
Despite his dark mood over Jebra's frightening account of what she had seen, Richard had to think that Shota very likely had some other reason for her visit.
Still, Jebra's story had been difficult to listen to without it stirring not only his anguish, but his anger. Richard turned away and stared into the stilled water of the fountain. He felt the weight of gloom settling around his shoulders. What could he do about any of it? It felt as if this and all the other troubles pressing in around them were pushing Kahlan away from his thoughts, away from him.
At times she hardly even seemed real to him. He hated it whenever he had such a thought. Sometimes, when he remembered her wit, or the way she smiled so easily when she rested her wrists on his shoulders and locked her fingers together behind his neck and gazed at him, or her beautiful green eyes, or her soft laugh, or her touch, or the tight smile she gave no one but him, she seemed more like a phantom who existed solely in his imagination.
The very thought of Kahlan not being real sent a spike of tingling dread surging up through his insides. He had lived with that numbing fear for a long, dark period. It had been terrifying to be alone in his belief that she existed, terrifying to doubt his own sanity, until he had at last found the truth of the Chainfire spell and convinced the others that she was indeed real. Now, at least, he had their help.
Richard mentally shook himself. Kahlan was no phantom. He had to find a way to get her out of the clutches of Sister Ulicia and the other two Sisters of the Dark. It didn't help, though, that the thought of Kahlan being a captive of such ruthless women caused him such anguish that he sometimes couldn't bear to think about it, to think of what terrible things they might do to the woman who was his world, the woman he loved more than life itself, and yet he could not make his mind focus on anything else.
Despite what Shota believed he should do, Richard had to remember that, besides Kahlan being lost in the vortex of the Chainfire spell, there were other ominous dangers, like the boxes of Orden being in play, and the damage left behind by the chimes. He couldn't ignore everything else just because the witch woman came marching in to tell him what she thought he should do. It could even be that Shota's true goal was some complex scheme, some hidden agenda, involving this other witch woman, Six. There was no telling what Shota was really up to.
Still, Richard had come to have great respect for her, as had Kahlan, even if he didn't entirely trust her. While Shota often seemed to be an instigator of trouble it was not necessarily because she was deliberately trying to cause him grief; sometimes her intent was to help him and at other times she was simply the messenger of truth. And while she was always right in the things she revealed to him, those things almost always turned out to be true in ways Shota hadn't predicted—or at least in ways she hadn't revealed. As Zedd often said, a witch woman never told you something you wanted to know without also telling you something you didn't want to know.
The first time he met her, Shota had said that Kahlan would touch him with her power and so he should kill her to prevent that from happening. As it turned out, Kahlan did use her Confessor's touch on him, but that was how he had been able to trick Darken Rahl and defeat him. Shota had been right, but it had happened in a manner that turned out to be vastly different from the way she'd presented it. Even though she had been right, strictly speaking, if he had followed her advice Darken Rahl would have survived to unleash the power of Orden and rule them all, or the ones left alive.
In the back of his mind lurked the prediction Shota had made that if Richard married Kahlan she would bear a child that would be a monster. He and Kahlan had been wed. Surely that prediction would not turn out the way Shota had presented it either. Surely Kahlan would not give birth to a monster.
It was Zedd who finally spoke, bringing Richard out of his private thoughts. "What ever happened to Queen Cyrilla?"
The room was dead still for a time before Jebra answered. "It was as it had been in my vision. She was handed over to the lowest of the soldiers to use as they wished. They were eager to get at their prize. It went very badly for her. Her worst fears came to pass."
Zedd cocked his head, apparently believing that there was more to the story. "So that was the last you saw of her?"
Jebra folded her hands before herself. "Not exactly. One day, as I was rushing to deliver a platter of freshly roasted beef, I came upon a raucous group of men playing a game that the Imperial Order troops were very fond of watching. There were two teams with the gathered men shouting and yelling them on. The men were all betting on which team would win. I don't know what the game was—"
"Ja'La," Nicci said. When Jebra turned to look at her, Nicci said "The game is called Ja'La. In theory it's a game of athletic ability, skill, and strategy; in practice, under the rules the Order plays it by, Ja'La is all of that and in addition it's quite brutal. Ja'La is Jagang's favorite sport. He has a team of his own. I remember once when they lost a game. The whole team was put to death. The emperor soon had a new team of the most skilled, toughest, most physically imposing players to be found. They did not lose. The full name of the game is Ja'La dh Jin. In Emperor Jagang's native tongue it means 'the game of life.' "
Jebra frowned in recollection. "Yes, I guess I do recall hearing it called Ja'La. I always saw it played with a heavy ball. A ball heavy enough to on occasion break the bones of the players."
"The ball is called a broc," Richard said without turning.
Nicci glanced over at him. "That's right."
"Well," Jebra said, resuming her story, "on this particular day, as I was taking the platter to the commanders, I had to go to the place where the game was being played. There were thousands of troops gathered to watch. I was directed to a small stand for the commanders and had to make my way through the cheering throngs. It was a terrifying journey. The men saw the iron ring of a slave in my lip so none dared to pull me away to their tents, but that didn't stop their hands on me." Jebra's gaze sought the floor. "It was something that I had to endure often enough."
She finally looked up. "When I reached the commanders, down close to the playing field, I saw that the men starting up a new game weren't using the ball that they usually used." She cleared her throat. "They were using Queen Cyrilla's head for the ball."
Jebra sought to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Anyway, life in Galea had been changed forever. What was once a center of commerce is now little more than a vast army camp from where continuing campaigns against some of the free areas of the New World are launched. The farms out in the country, run by forced labor, don't produce as they once did. Crops fail or are poor. The needs of the vast armed forces in Galea are huge. Food is always scarce but the supplies that regularly come up from the Old World keep the soldiers fed well enough to carry on.
"I worked day and night as a slave to the needs of the Imperial Order commanders. I never again had any visions after the one about Queen Cyrilla. It seemed odd to me to be without my visions. I'd had them my whole life, but after that terrible vision about Queen Cyrilla a couple of years back, no more came. My gift as a Seer seems to have vanished. M
y vision has gone dark."
By the glance from Nicci, Richard knew that she suspected what he was thinking.
"Eventually," Jebra said, "I was one day snatched away from the middle of all those troops. It was Shota who somehow got me out. I'm not entirely sure how it happened. I just recall that she was there with me. I started to ask something but she told me to keep my mouth shut and to start walking. I remember turning back once to look and there was the army spread out across the valley and up into the hills, but they were a great distance behind us. I don't know how it had happened, really, that we were so far away." She frowned into her dim memories. "We were just walking. And here I am. I'm afraid, though, that because my visions have gone dark I can no longer be of any help to you."
Richard thought she should know the truth, so he told her. "Your vision probably went dark because several years back the chimes were in this world for a time. They were banished back to the underworld, but the damage was done. I think that the presence of the chimes in the world of life began the disintegration of magic. It must be that it disrupted your ability. Your gifted vision is probably lost, or, even if it returns in part or for a time, it will eventually be completely extinguished."
Jebra looked dazed by the news. "My whole life I have frequently wished that I had never been born with the vision of a Seer. In many ways it made me an outcast. I often wept at night, wishing to be free of my visions, wishing they would leave me be.
"But now that you tell me that my wish has been granted, I don't think that I ever really meant it."
"That's the problem with wishes," Zedd said as he sighed. "They tend to be things that—"
"The chimes?" Shota interrupted. By her tone of voice as well as her frown, Richard knew that she wasn't interested in hearing about wishes. "If such a thing were true, then why has there been no other evidence of it?"
"There has been," Richard said with a shrug. "Creatures of magic, such as the dragons, have not been seen in the last couple of years."
"Dragons?" Shota coiled a long wavy lock of hair around a finger as she appraised him silently for a moment. "Richard, people can go for a lifetime and never catch a glimpse of a dragon."
"And what of Jebra's visions going dark? After the chimes were in this world her visions ceased. Like other things of magic, her unique ability is flickering out. I'm sure that we aren't even aware of most of them."
"I would be aware of them."
"Not necessarily." Richard raked his hair back off his forehead. "The problem is, Chainfire—which I first heard about from you—is a spell that was ignited by four Sisters of the Dark to make everyone forget Kahlan. That spell is contaminated by the chimes, so besides Kahlan, people are forgetting other things as well, such as dragons."
Shota looked anything but convinced. "I would still be aware of such things because of the way they flow forward in time."
"And what about this other witch woman, Six? I thought that you said that she was masking your ability to see the flow of time."
Shota ignored his question and pulled the finger free of the skein of auburn hair. As she folded her arms. Her almond-shaped eyes remained fixed on him.
"If the shadow of the Order darkens mankind, none of it will matter, now, will it? They will put an end to all magic, as well as all hope."
Richard didn't answer. Instead he turned to the still waters, to his brooding thoughts.
Shota tilted her head, gesturing toward the steps as she spoke quietly to Jebra. "Go up there and see Zedd. I need to talk to Richard."
* * *
CHAPTER 17
As Shota glided closer to Richard she cast Nicci a threatening glare. He wondered why Shota hadn't also told Nicci to go back up the steps with Jebra to talk to Zedd. He surmised, though, that the witch woman probably knew that Nicci wouldn't follow any such orders. He certainly didn't want to see them in a test of wills. He had enough to worry about without those on the same side battling among themselves.
When Richard glanced over and saw Jebra ascending the steps he also saw that Ann and Nathan had already made their way around the room to stand near him as well. When she reached him, Zedd circled a comforting arm around Jebra's shoulders as he murmured words of reassurance, but his gaze was on Richard. Richard appreciated his grandfather watching out for him and keeping an eye on the witch woman just in case she had any ideas about pulling one of her tricks. Zedd probably knew far better than any of them just what Shota was capable of. He also harbored a deep mistrust of the woman, not sharing at all Richard's view that Shota, at her core, was driven by the same convictions as they were.
As much as he might appreciate her central purpose, Richard was well aware that Shota sometimes pursued that purpose in ways that had in the past caused him no end of grief. What she viewed as help sometimes ended up being nothing but trouble for him.
He was all too aware that Shota also on occasion had her own agendasuch as when she had given the sword to Samuel. Richard suspected that she was up to something now as well, he just didn't know what or what was behind it. He wondered if it might have something to do with eliminating the other witch woman.
"Richard," Shota said in a soft, sympathetic tone, "you have heard the nature of the terror that is descending upon us. You are the only one who can stop it. I don't know why it is so, but I do know that it is."
Richard did not spare her for her gentle tone or her concern about their common enemy. "You dare to express your deep distress over the suffering and death brought by the Order and your conviction that only I can do something to stop the threat, and yet you conspired to withhold information just so that you could wrest the Sword of Truth from me?"
She didn't rise to the challenge. "There was no conspiring, as you put it. It was a fair trade—value for value." Her voice remained serene. "Besides, the sword would not be of any help to you in this, Richard."
"A poor excuse for you giving it to that murderous Samuel."
Shota arched an eyebrow. "And, as it turns out, had I not, then those Sisters of the Dark who stole the boxes of Orden would probably have united by now. With all three boxes together, they very well might have already opened one, very well might have already unleashed the power of Orden, very well might have already turned us all over to the Keeper of the dead. What good would the sword do you if the world of life were ended? It seems that Samuel, for whatever reason, has prevented a cataclysm."
"Samuel also used the sword to kidnap Rachel. In the process he nearly killed Chase—and apparently intended to."
"Use your head, Richard. The sword served us all by buying us time, even if it was at a cost that none of us likes. What are you going to do with the time you now have that you otherwise would not? More to the point, what good would the sword do you, now, against the threat of the Order?
"Besides, with the sword anyone can be a Seeker—a pretend Seeker, anyway. A true Seeker does not need the sword to be the Seeker."
He knew that she was right. What would he do with the sword? Try to cut down the Imperial Order single-handedly? Just as Nicci had explained to Jebra how those with the gift could not overcome vast numbers just because they could wield magic, the same applied to the sword. Still, Shota had given the sword to Samuel, and now Samuel seemed to be acting on the orders of a different witch woman, one who apparently had no one's interest at heart but her own.
Worse, what sense did it make to fret over a single weapon when so many were dying at the hands of the Order, when that single weapon would not preserve their lives or freedom? Richard knew that the sword was not the real weapon; the mind that directed it was what really mattered.
He was the true Seeker. He was the true weapon. Samuel couldn't take that.
And yet, he had no idea what to do to stop the threat, to halt any of the dangers closing in around them.
Nicci stood not far away—distant enough to give Shota her chance to talk to him, but close enough to step between them in an instant if the talk turned to threats, or to someth
ing Nicci didn't like.
Richard stared into Nicci's blue eyes a moment before turning again to meet Shota's gaze. "And just what is it that you expect me to do?"
Without being aware of her coming closer, he suddenly realized that he could feel Shota's breath against his cheek. It carried the faint scent of lavender. The fragrance felt as if it drew the tension right out of him.
"What I expect," Shota said in an intimate whisper as her arm slipped around his waist, "is for you to understand.
"To truly understand."
Distantly alarmed by what might be her veiled intent, Richard thought that he should back out of her firm embrace. Before he could move a muscle, Shota lifted his chin with a finger.
In an instant, he was kneeling in the mud.
The sound of the steady downpour roared around him, drumming on the roofs and awnings, pattering in the puddles, spattering mud on the walls of buildings, on broken carts and on the legs of the milling mob. Soldiers in the distance shouted orders. Bony horses, their heads hanging, their legs caked with mud, looked miserable as they stood impassively in the rain. A group of soldiers off to the side laughed among themselves while some others not far away chatted in trivial, bored conversation. Nearby wagons rumbled and bounced as they rolled slowly down a road, while in the distance a few dogs barked ceaselessly in a manner born of habit.
In the gloomy light of the leaden overcast everything looked a murky shade of grayish brown. When he glanced to his right, Richard saw that there were other men lined up, kneeling in the mud beside him. Their drab, sodden clothes hung limp from slumped shoulders. Their faces were ashen, their eyes wild with fright. Behind them lurked the maw of a deep pit, looking like nothing so much as a dark opening into the underworld itself.