Faith of the Fallen

There were very few fires in the camp, and those were mostly watch fires set away from the main force, leaving the mass of the camp a dark whole of night. Some armies carried. on a considerable amount of work at night, performing repairs or making things. they needed, and letting the men do as they would. These men remained quiet; throughout the night so watching eyes and listening ears could gain little if any help, for an invading force.

These were well trained, disciplined, professional soldiers. From a distance it was difficult to tell the size of the camp. It was huge.

Sister Philippa brought Zedd to a sizable tent, one tall enough to stand in. Light from lamps hanging inside gave the canvas walls and roof a soft amber glow. She ducked beneath a tent line and poked her head in under the flap.

"I have a wizard out here who wishes to see the Prelate."

Zedd heard muffled, astonished acknowledgment from inside.

"Go on in." Sister Philippa smiled while giving his back a gentle push.

"I'll see if I can find you some dinner."

"I would be not only grateful, but greatly in your debt," Zedd told her.

As he stepped inside the tent, the people were just coming to their feet to greet him.

"Zedd! You old fool! You be alive!"

Zedd grinned as Adie, the old sorceress known as the bone woman in their adopted homeland of Westland, rushed into his arms. He let out a grunt as she momentarily squeezed the wind from his lungs. He smoothed her square-cut, jawlength black and gray hair as he held her head to his chest.

"I promised you'd see me again, now didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," she whispered into his heavy robes.

She pushed back, holding his arms, and looked him over. She reached up and smoothed down his unruly, wavy white hair.

"You look as lovely as ever," he told her.

She peered at him with her completely white eyes. Her sight had been taken from her when she was but a young woman. Adie now saw by means of her gift. In some ways, she saw better.

"Where be your hat?"

"Hat?"

"I bought you a fine hat arid you lost it. I see you still have not replaced it. You told me you would get another. I believe you promised."

Zedd hated the hat with the long feather she'd bought for him when they'd acquired the rest of his clothes. He'd rather be wearing the simple robes befitting a wizard of his rank and authority, but Ache had «lost» them after he purchased the fancy maroon robes with black sleeves and cowled shoulders he now wore. Three rows of silver brocade circled the cuffs.

Thicker gold brocade ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold buckle gathered the outfit at his thin waist. Such clothes marked one with the gift as an initiate. For one without the gift, such clothes befitted nobility or in most places a wealthy merchant, so although Zedd disliked the ostentatious attire, it had at times been a valuable disguise. Besides, Adie liked him in the maroon robes. The hat, though, was too much for him. It had been "misplaced."

He noted that Adie had managed to keep her simple clothes along the way. Yellow and real beads around the neck of her robes, sewn in the shapes of the ancient symbols of her profession of sorceress, were the only ornamentation she wore.

"I've been busy," he said, flicking his hand, hoping to dismiss the matter, "or I would have replaced the hat."

"Bale," she scoffed. "You be up to mischief."

"Why, I've been-"

"Hush, now," Adie said. Holding his arm in a tight grip, she held out the long thin fingers of her other hand. "Zedd, this be Verna: Prelate of the Sisters of the Light."

The woman looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties;

Zedd knew her to be much older. Ann, Verna's predecessor, had told him Verna's age, and while he couldn't recall the exact number, it was somewhere close to one hundred and sixty years-young for a Sister of the Light. She had simple, attractive features and brown hair with just enough curl and body to add a hint of sophistication. Her intent, brown-eyed gaze looked as if it could scour lichen off granite. By the lines of a resolute expression enduringly fixed on her face, she appeared to be a woman with a shell as tight as a beetle's and just as hard.

Zedd bowed his head. "Prelate. First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, at your service." He let her know, by his tone, that it was merely a figure of speech.

This was the woman who had taken Richard away to the Old World. Even if she believed it was to save his life, Zedd, as First Wizard, viewed such an act as abhorrent. The Sisters-sorceresses all-believed they could train gifted young men to be wizards. They were wrong; such a task could only be adequately accomplished by another wizard.

She offered her hand with the sunburst-patterned gold ring of office.

He bent forward and kissed it, out of what he thought must be their custom.

She pulled his hand close when he had finished, and kissed it in return.