Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Ignoring the curiosity of regular soldiers being there in the compound, Nicci headed straight for the heavy hanging over the opening into Jagang's tent. The two Sisters, already lagging behind, reluctantly followed Nicci toward the emperor's tent. Color drained from their faces. No one, least of all a woman, was eager to enter Jagang's private sanctuary. While he was sometimes pleasant to some of his trusted officers, he did not treat others indulgently.

Two big men, each holding a pike, their faces tattooed with animalistic designs, drew back the hanging. The small silver discs attached to the lambskin made soft metallic ringing sounds, letting the emperor know that someone was entering his tent. She recognized both men holding the hanging out of the way for her but didn't acknowledge them as she lifted her skirts to step over the threshold and into the darkness beyond.

Inside, slaves were busy clearing plates and platters from the emperor's table. The aroma of all the food reminded Nicci that she hadn't eaten. The knot of anxiety in her middle masked her hunger.

Dozens of candles gave the place a dimly lit, cozy warmth. Thick carpets covered the floor so that footsteps of slaves going about their work would not disturb the emperor. Some of the slaves, all with heads bowed, were new. Some she remembered. Jagang appeared to have already finished his meal and was not in the outer areas.

The two Sisters, having entered behind her, edged their way into the shadows toward the far walls of the tent. This was apparently as far as they were to go, and within the outer room they wanted to be as far away as possible.

Knowing where Jagang would be, Nicci headed across the room. Slaves scurried to stay out of her way. At the hanging over the opening into the bedroom, she lifted the covering aside and ducked through.

Inside the emperor's bedchamber Nicci at last saw him. He was sitting facing away from her on the other side of the plush bed covered with gold-colored silk. Points of light from the candles and oil lamps reflected off his shaved head. His bull neck spread into broad, powerful shoulders. He was wearing a lamb's-wool vest, and his massive arms were bare.

He was occupied with thumbing through a book, absorbed in scanning the text. While easily given to violence, Jagang was, in certain areas, an intelligent man who prized the knowledge to be found in books or sifted from the minds he inhabited. Emotionally convinced of the veracity of his beliefs, he never troubled himself to subject those beliefs to reasoning. In fact, he viewed such questioning to be heresy. Instead, his efforts were spent collecting information in narrow areas. He knew that the right kind of knowledge could be a valuable weapon. He was a man who liked to be well armed-with every form of weapon.

Something caught Nicci's eye. She looked to her left.

That was when she saw her, sitting on the floor, resting on one hip and leaning on an arm. She was the most sublimely beautiful creature Nicci had ever seen.

She knew without doubt who this woman was.

It was Kahlan, Richard's wife.

Their eyes met. The intelligence, the nobility, the life in those green eyes was riveting.

This was a woman the equal of Richard.

Ann had been wrong. This was the only woman who could by right stand at his side.

CHAPTER 23

Nicci saw that there was a Rada'Han around Kahlan's neck. That would explain why she seemed to be planted on the faded blue and beige carpet. Her gaze didn't miss the collar that Nicci wore. Nicci didn't think that this woman's gaze missed much.

A tentative look haunted Kahlan's green eyes as they stared at each other. It was a ghost of cautious encouragement brought about by her awareness that Nicci could actually see her. They were instantly sisters in more than one way, sharing more than just having collars around their necks.

How lonely and forlorn it must be to exist unseen and forgotten at the center of such a wicked spell.

Unseen, anyway, by anyone other than Sisters of the Dark-and, apparently, Jagang. It had to be a cause for hope that another person, even a stranger, could see her.

Looking at her now, Nicci could hardly believe that she could ever have forgotten this woman, even with the Chainfire spell. She could clearly see why Richard had never for an instant given up on finding her.

This woman, even discounting her exquisite beauty, had a presence about her, an insightful awareness, that Nicci instantly recognized from the statue that Richard had carved. That statue, called Spirit, had not been meant to look like Kahlan, but to represent her abiding strength, her inner courage. It did that in a way that, seeing the real thing, nearly took Nicci's breath.

She was beginning to see why, even at her relatively young age, Kahlan had been named the Mother Confessor. Now, though, there were no other Confessors. She was the last.