Nyda’s frown eased only slightly. “Do you really think that Wizard Rahl would tell you such a thing?”
“Why do you think they had him locked away? He’s dangerous. Prophecy could be dangerous for those like me who protect Lord Rahl.”
“Or maybe it could help,” Nyda said. “If you knew that something bad was going to happen, you could stop it.”
“Then it wouldn’t be prophecy, now would it?”
Nyda ran her hand down her braid as she considered the implications. “But if you knew of some dire foretelling, then maybe you could turn the prophecy aside and avert the disaster.”
“If you could turn prophecy aside, that would make it wrong. If it were wrong, if it were prophecy unfulfilled, then it would just be the foolish empty words of an old man, wouldn’t it? Then how could prophecy be distinguished from the ranting of any lunatic who claimed he was a prophet?”
“But it’s not empty ranting,” Jennsen insisted. “It’s prophecy. If this prophet wanted to harm my mission, he might tell me something terrible about my future. If I knew something terrible, I might fail Lord Rahl.”
“You mean,” Nyda asked, “that you think it would be like if I were to jab my Agiel at someone? It would make them flinch?”
“Yes. Only if we know a prophecy, and flinch, as it were, it’s Lord Rahl who would be put at risk because of our weakness and fear.”
Nyda released her braid and put her hand back on the railing. “But I would not flinch, knowing how I was to die, especially if it was Lord Rahl’s life I was saving. As a Mord-Sith, I’m always prepared to die. Every Mord-Sith wishes to die fighting for the Lord Rahl, not old and toothless in bed.”
Jennsen wondered if the woman was mad, or if she could really be that dedicated.
“A brave boast,” Sebastian put in. “But are you willing to bet Lord Rahl’s life on it?”
Nyda looked him in the eye. “If it were my life on the line? Yes. I would not flinch knowing how and when I was to die.”
“Then I admit that you’re a better woman than I,” Jennsen said.
Nyda nodded grimly. “I would not expect you to be the same as I. You may carry the knife, but are not Mord-Sith.”
Jennsen wished Nyda would move on. If she couldn’t convince the woman, and had to fight her, this would be a very bad place to have to do it. The Mord-Sith was strong and quick. With Sebastian behind, he could be little help. Besides that, hanging on to the swaying bridge over the chasm, Jennsen’s head was spinning. She didn’t like high places, and had never prided herself in her sense of balance.
“I’d do my best not to fail Lord Rahl in a situation like that,” Jennsen said, “but I can’t swear I wouldn’t. I’d not like Lord Rahl’s life to hang on the answer.”
Nyda nodded in resignation. “That’s wise.” She finally turned and started out once more across the footbridge. “I would still try to change the prophecy, though.”
Jennsen let out a silent sigh as she shuffled along, following close behind. In some manner she didn’t understand, her words were swaying the Mord-Sith more than seemed possible.
She glanced over the edge but still saw no bottom. “Prophecy can’t be changed, or it would cease to be prophecy. Prophecy comes from prophets, who are gifted with it.”
Nyda had her braid over her shoulder again, stroking it. “But if he’s a prophet, then he knows the future, and, like you said, that can’t be changed or it wouldn’t be prophecy—so he would only be telling you what is going to happen. He can’t change it, you can’t change it. It’s already going to happen whether he tells you or not. If telling you would make you fail to protect Lord Rahl, then he would already see such an event, so it is preordained to happen and would be part of the prophecy to begin with.”
Jennsen pulled a strand of her hair out of her eyes as she advanced along the bridge, gripping the rail tightly. In her mind, she furiously raced to come up with a logical answer. She had no idea if the things she was saying were true or not, but she thought they sounded convincing and seemed to be working. The problem was, Nyda kept asking questions Jennsen had more and more trouble answering. She felt almost as if she were descending into the void below, each attempt to climb out only letting her slip deeper. She did her best to keep any trace of desperation out of her voice.
“But don’t you see? Prophets don’t see everything about everyone, as if the whole world and every single thing that happens is some grand play to be acted out according to a script the prophet has already read. A prophet would only see some things—maybe even some things of his choosing. But other things, things he doesn’t see, he might try to influence.”
Nyda frowned back at them. “What do you mean?”
Jennsen sensed that her only safety was to keep Nyda worried for her Lord Rahl. “I mean, if he wanted to harm Lord Rahl, he might tell me something that would make me flinch, just to make me flinch, even if he didn’t see such an event.”
Nyda’s frown grew more serious. “You mean he might lie?”
“Yes.”
“But why would Wizard Rahl want to harm Lord Rahl? What possible reason would he have?”
“I told you, he’s dangerous. That’s why they had him locked away in the Palace of the Prophets. Who knows what other things they knew about him that we don’t, things that made them feel it was necessary to lock such a man away.”
“That still doesn’t answer why Wizard Rahl would wish to harm Lord Rahl.”
Jennsen felt as if she were in a knife fight—trying to protect herself from this woman’s razor-sharp verbal blade. “It’s not just prophecy—he’s a wizard. He’s gifted. I don’t know if he’s interested in harming Lord Rahl—maybe he’s not—but I don’t want to risk Lord Rahl’s life to find out. I know enough about magic to know I don’t like messing around with things of magic that are beyond me. I have to put Lord Rahl’s life first. I’m not saying that I believe Nathan Rahl is bent on harm, I’m just saying that it’s my job to protect Lord Rahl and I don’t want to take the chance with such magic, magic I can’t ward.”
The woman shouldered open the door at the end of the foot bridge. “I can’t argue that. I don’t like anything to do with magic. But if Lord Rahl is in danger from this prophet of a wizard, maybe you had better stay here so we can look into it.”
“I don’t know if Nathan Rahl represents a threat, but I have pressing business that I know for certain is a grave danger to Lord Rahl. My responsibility is to tend to that.”
Nyda tried a door but found it locked. She continued on down the dingy hallway. “But if your suspicions about Nathan Rahl are correct, then we must—”
“Nyda, I’m hoping you can keep your eye on this Nathan Rahl for me. I can’t do it all myself. Watch him for me?”
“Do you wish me to kill him?”
“No.” Jennsen was surprised at how ready the Mord-Sith seemed to be to commit to such an act. “Of course not. I’m just saying to pay attention, keep an eye on him, that’s all.”
Nyda reached another door. This time the lever lifted. Before she opened it, she turned back to the two of them. Jennsen didn’t like the look in her eyes as her gaze shifted between them.
“This is all crazy,” Nyda said. “Too much of it makes no sense. Too many things don’t fit. I don’t like it when things don’t make sense.”
This was a dangerous creature who could at any moment turn on them. Jennsen had to find a way to close the subject for good. She remembered what Captain Lerner had said, how filled with conviction he had been, and spoke the words softly to Nyda.
“The new Lord Rahl has changed everything, all the rules—he’s turned the whole world upside down.”
Nyda finally let out a deep breath. A wistful smile came to her lips.
“Yes, he has,” she said in a soft voice. “Wonder of wonders. That’s why I would lay down my life to protect him, why I worry so.”
“Me too. I need to do my job.”
Nyda turned away and led them to a dark
spiral of stairs tunneling down through the rock. Jennsen knew that the tale she was spinning wasn’t entirely convincing. She was perplexed that it worked anyway.
A long journey down seemingly endless stairs and along dark corridors, occasionally cutting through passageways crowded with soldiers, took them ever lower in the plateau below the People’s Palace. Sebastian’s hand on her back for much of the journey was a reassuring comfort, and a relief. Jennsen could hardly believe that she had managed to get him free. Soon, they would be out of the palace and safely away.
Somewhere within the interior of the plateau, they emerged into the central public area. Nyda had taken them down a more direct route and saved them time. Jennsen preferred staying within the hidden passageways, but, apparently, those shortcuts ended at this place within the common area. They would have to finish their descent among the crowds.
Small stands selling food lined the way along the route as throngs of people shuffled past on their long ascent to the palace above. Jennsen recalled passing the vendors opposite the stone balusters overlooking the level below on her first visit to the palace. The smells, after the dusty places they had been, were temptation almost beyond endurance.
Soldiers patrolling nearby noticed them on their way down, moving against the crowds. Like all the soldiers she had seen in the palace, these were big men, muscular, fit, eyes alert. In their leather and chain mail, weapons hanging from their belts, they were an intimidating sight. As soon as they realized that Nyda was escorting them, the soldiers turned their scrutiny to other people.
When Jennsen saw Sebastian pull up his hood, she realized it would be a good idea to hide her hair and followed suit. The air inside the plateau was frosty and a number of people had their heads covered with hoods or hats, so it wouldn’t raise suspicions.
As they reached the far end of a long landing in the lower reaches inside the plateau, just as they turned to descend the next flight of stairs, Jennsen looked up. At the opposite end of the landing, a tall older man with a full head of straight white hair hanging to his broad shoulders was just coming down off the stairs. Even though he was old, he was still a strikingly handsome man. Despite his age, he moved with vigor.
He looked up. His gaze met Jennsen’s.
The world seemed to stop in the man’s dark azure eyes.
Jennsen froze. There was something about him that looked vaguely familiar, something in those eyes that seized her attention.
Sebastian had stopped two steps below her. Nyda was at her side. The Mord-Sith’s gaze followed Jennsen’s.
The man’s hawklike glare was fixed on Jennsen, as if they were the only two people in the entire palace.
“Dear spirits,” Nyda whispered. “That has to be Nathan Rahl.”
“How do you know?” Sebastian asked.
She stepped up beside Jennsen, her attention fixed on the man. “He has the eyes of a Rahl, of Darken Rahl. I’ve seen those eyes in enough nightmares.”
Nyda’s gaze slid to Jennsen. Her brow drew together.
Jennsen realized where she had seen the man’s eyes—in the mirror.
Chapter 29
In the distance, across the landing, Jennsen saw the wizard’s eyes going wide. His hand came up, pointing across the throng of people.
“Stop!” He called out in a deep, powerful voice. Even above the racket around her, Jennsen could clearly hear that voice ring out. “Stop!”
Nyda was staring at her, as if the spark of recognition was but an instant away. Jennsen seized her arm.
“Nyda, you have to stop him.”
Nyda broke the gaze to look over her shoulder at the man rushing toward them. She looked back at Jennsen.
Jennsen remembered Althea saying that she could see some Rahl in Jennsen’s looks, and that others who knew Darken Rahl might recognize her.
Jennsen gripped red leather in her fist. “Stop him! Don’t listen to anything he says!”
“But he might only—”
Gripping the fistful of red leather tightly, Jennsen shook the woman. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? He might keep me from helping Lord Rahl. He might try to trick you. Stop him. Please, Nyda—Lord Rahl’s life is in grave danger.”
Invoking the name of Lord Rahl tipped the balance back.
“Go,” Nyda said. “Hurry.”
Jennsen nodded and dashed down the steps. She only had time for a brief look. She saw the prophet’s long legs striding toward them, his hand held out, calling for them to stop. Nyda, Agiel in her fist, ran for him.
Jennsen scanned the area for soldiers, then turned back for a look, trying to see if Nathan Rahl was still coming, trying to see if Nyda was stopping him. Sebastian snatched her hand, pulling her in a headlong rush down the steps. Jennsen didn’t get a chance for another glimpse of her wizard kin.
She hadn’t realized how it would affect her to see someone who was related to her. She hadn’t expected to see it in his eyes. There had only been her mother and her, before. It was the strangest feeling—a kind of pensive longing—seeing this man who was in some way her blood.
But if he caught her, her doom would be sealed.
Together, she and Sebastian raced down the steps, dodging people who were on their way up. Some people grumbled at them to watch where they were going, or cursed them for running. At each landing, she and Sebastian skirted the crowds and flew down the next flight of stairs.
When they reached a level where soldiers were stationed, they slowed. Jennsen pulled her hood up a little tighter, making sure that her hair was hidden, along with some of her face, fearing people might recognize her for being the daughter of Darken Rahl. Anxiety knotted her insides at having discovered that there was that, too, she now had to worry about.
Sebastian’s arm around her waist held her close as he wound his way through the flowing river of people. To avoid soldiers on patrol moving by near the balusters, he had to guide Jennsen to the side with benches, taking them closer among the stands, weaving through lines of people.
The landing was choked with people buying trinkets and treasures of their visit to the People’s Palace. The air was filled with the aroma of meats and spices from some of the stands. Couples sat on benches eating, drinking, smiling, talking excitedly. Others simply watched people pass. There were shadowy spaces between stands and pillars where some couples sat tight together on short benches or, where there were no benches, stood close in the dark, cuddling, kissing.
When Jennsen and Sebastian reached the edge of the landing, about to head down, they spotted a large patrol of soldiers coming up the steps. Sebastian hesitated. She knew he had to be thinking about the last time soldiers took notice of him. This was a large group; it would be impossible to pass them without being within an arm’s length. As they marched up the steps, the men looked carefully at everyone.
Jennsen doubted that she would ever again be able to talk Sebastian out of a prison cell. It was likely, since she was with him, that this time they might take her in to be questioned. If they detained her, Nathan Rahl would seal her fate. She felt the sense of panic, of doom, closing in on her.
Jennsen, not wanting to separate from Sebastian, instead grabbed his arm and pulled him back across the landing, past couples on benches, past those in lines at counters, past people standing back in the shadows, embracing, and into one of the dark empty niches. Panting from the effort of their long run, she put her shoulders into the narrow nook back between the rear of a stand and a pillar. She drew Sebastian around in front of her, so that his back would be to the soldiers.
With his hood up as it was, they wouldn’t see much of him. If they noticed them at all, they would only see enough to notice she was a woman. They would look like nothing more than a couple of completely unremarkable people. Jennsen put her arms around Sebastian’s waist so they would look like any of the other ordinary couples spending a few moments alone with each other.
It was quieter back in their small sanctuary. The sound of their heavy breathing
drowned out the voices not far away. Most people couldn’t see them, and the ones who could have were turned to other things. It had made Jennsen uncomfortable and awkward to watch couples snuggled together as she and Sebastian were now, so she imagined it would be the same for other people. It looked to her that she was right; no one paid any attention to a young couple embracing and obviously wanting to be by themselves.
Sebastian’s hands were on her waist. Her hands held his back, so that they would look the part as they waited for the soldiers to pass. She was grateful beyond words that the good spirits had helped her get Sebastian out.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, for the first time alone with her since he’d been released, for the first time able to say what he wanted.
Jennsen looked away from the passing people, into his eyes, and saw how earnest he was. “I couldn’t leave you there.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe what you did. I can’t believe how you talked your way into that place. You had them wrapped around your will. How did you manage such a thing?”
Jennsen swallowed, feeling at the edge of tears from the rush of emotion, the fear, the elation, the panic, the triumph. “I had to, that’s all. I had to get you out.” She checked to be sure that no one was near before she went on. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in there, or of what they might do to you. I went to Althea, the sorceress, for help—”
“That’s how you managed it, then? Her magic?”
Jennsen shook her head as she gazed up into his eyes. “No. Althea couldn’t help me—it’s a long story. She told me how she’s been to your homeland, to the Old World.” She smiled. “Like I said, it’s a long story for another time. It has to do with the pillars of Creation.”
One eyebrow lifted. “You mean, she’s actually been there?”
“What?”
“The Pillars of Creation—she really went there when she was in the Old World?” His gaze followed a distant soldier for a moment. “You said it has something to do with how she helped you. She actually saw the place?”