Blood of the Fold

The third attempt at forging a Sword of Truth failed today. The wives and children of the Jive men who died roam the halls, wailing in inconsolable anguish. How many men will die before we succeed, or until we abandon the attempt as impossible? The goal may be worthy, but the price is becoming terrible to bear.

"You're right. It seems he's talking about when they were trying to make the Sword of Truth."

Richard felt a chill at learning that men had died in the making of his sword. In fact, it made him feel a little sick. He had always thought of the sword as an object of magic, thinking that maybe it had simply been a plain sword at one time that some powerful wizard had cast a spell over. Learning that people died in the effort to make it made him feel ashamed that he took it for granted most of the time.

Richard went on to the next part of the journal. After an hour of consulting the lists and Berdine, he had it translated.

Last night, our enemies sent assassins through the sliph. Had the man on duty not been so alert, they would have succeeded. When the towers are ignited, the Old World will truly be sealed away, and the sliph will sleep. Then we can all rest easier, except the unlucky man on guard. We have concluded that we will have no way of knowing when the spells will be ignited, if they ever are, or if anyone is in the sliph, so the guard cannot be called away in time. When the towers are brought to life, the man on guard will be sealed in with her.

"The towers," Richard said. "When they completed the towers, sealing the Old World from the New World, that room was also sealed. That's why Kolo was down there. He couldn't get out."

"Then why is the room open now?" Berdine asked.

"Because I destroyed the towers. Remember I told you that it looked like Kolo's room had been blasted open within the last few months? How the mold on the walls had been burned away and hadn't had time to regrow? It must have happened because I destroyed the towers. It also unsealed Kolo's room for the first time in three thousand years."

"Why would they seal the room with the well?"

Richard had to force himself to blink. "I think this sliph thing Kolo keeps talking about lives in that well."

"What is this sliph? The mriswith mentioned it, too."

"I don't know, but somehow they used the sliph, whatever it is, to travel to other places. Kolo talks about the enemy sending assassins through the sliph. They were fighting the people in the Old World."

Berdine lowered her voice in worry as she leaned toward him. "You meant to say that you think these wizards could travel from here all the way to this Old World, and back?"

Richard scratched the itch at the back of his neck. "I don't know, Berdine. It sounds that way."

Berdine was still staring at him as if she thought he might be about to show further evidence that he was going mad. "Lord Rahl, how could that be possible?"

"How should I know?" Richard glanced out the window. "It's late. We'd better get some sleep."

Berdine yawned again. "Sounds like a good idea."

Richard shut Kolo's journal and tucked it under an arm. "I'm going to read a bit in bed until I fall asleep."

Tobias Brogan peered at the mriswith on the coach, and the one inside, and to the others among his columns of men, the sunrise glinting off their armor. He could see all the mriswith; none were invisible to sneak up on him and listen. His anger boiled at the sight of the side of the Mother Confessor's head in the coach. It enraged him that she was still alive, and that the Creator had forbade him from laying a blade to her.

He glanced sideways briefly, to make sure Lunetta was close enough to hear him if he spoke softly.

"Lunetta, I'm beginning to become very disturbed about this."

She stepped her horse closer as they rode so she could speak with him, but she didn't look over in case any of the mriswith were watching. The Creator's messengers or not, she didn't like the scaled creatures.

"But Lord General, you said that when the Creator has come to speak with you he told you that you must do this. You are most honored to be visited by the Creator, and to do his work."

"I think the Creator..»

The mriswith on the coach stood and pointed with a claw as they crested the hill. "Seeee!" it cried out in a sharp hiss, adding a guttural clicking after the word.

Brogan lifted his head to see a great city spread out below them, witii the glittering sea beyond. In the center of the vast sprawl of buildings, with a golden, sunlit river splitting to go around the island atop which it sat, was a huge palace, its towers and roofs sparkling in the sunrise. He had seen cities before, he had seen palaces before, but he had never seen such as this. Despite not wanting to be here, he was awed.

"It be beautiful," Lunetta breathed.

"Lunetta," he whispered. "The Creator visited me again last night."

"Really, my lord general? That be wonderful. You be honored to be visited so often of late. The Creator must have great plans for you, my brother."