The pillars of creation

Jennsen added a stout stick to the fire, glad to have her mother to do the talking. Betty bleated for a carrot, or at least attention. The chickens grumbled about the noise and light.

"Jennsen," her mother said, "show Sebastian the piece of paper you found on the D'Haran soldier."

Taken aback, Jennsen waited until her mother's eyes turned her way. They shared a look that told Jennsen her mother was determined to take this chance, and if she was to try, then they had to at least tell him some of it.

Jennsen drew the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it past her mother to Sebastian. "I found this in that D'Haran soldier's pocket." She swallowed at the ghastly memory of seeing a dead person. "Just before you showed up."

Sebastian pulled the crumpled paper open, smoothing it between a thumb and finger as he cast them both a suspicious look. He turned the paper toward the firelight so he could see the two words.

"Jennsen Lindie," he said, reading it from the piece of paper. "I don't get it. Who's Jennsen Lindie?"

"Me," Jennsen said. "At least it was for a while."

"For a while? I don't understand."

"That was my name," Jennsen said. "The name I used, anyway, a few years back, when we lived far to the north. We move around often-to keep from being caught. We change our name each time so it will be harder to track us."

"Then… Daggett is not a real name, either?"

"No."

"Well, what is your real name, then?"

"That, too, is part of the story for another night." Her mother's tone said that she didn't mean to discuss it. "What matters is that the soldier today had that name. That can only mean the worst."

"But you said it's a name you no longer use. You use a different name, here: Daggett. No one here knows you by that name, Lindie."

Her mother leaned toward Sebastian. Jennsen knew her mother was giving him a look that he would find uncomfortable. Her mother had a way of making people nervous when she fixed them with that intent, penetrating gaze of hers.

"It may no longer be our name, a name we used only far to the north, but he had that name written down, and he was here, mere miles from where we are now. That means he has somehow connected that name with us-with two women somewhere up in this remote place. Somehow, he connected it, or, more precisely, the man who hunts us connected it, and sent him after us. Now, they search for us here."

Sebastian broke her gaze and took a thoughtful breath. "I see what you mean." He went back to eating the piece of fish skewered on the point of his knife.

"That dead soldier would have others with him," her mother said. "By burying him, you bought us time. They won't know what happened to him. We have that much luck. We are still a few steps ahead of them. We must use our advantage to get away before they tighten the noose. We will have to leave in the morning."

"Are you sure?" He gestured around with his knife. "You have a life here. Your lives are remote, hidden-I would never have found you had I not seen Jennsen with that dead soldier. How could they find you? You have a house, a good place."

"'Life' is the word that matters in all that you said. I know the man who hunts us. He has thousands of years of bloody heritage as guidance in hunting us. He will not rest. If we stay, sooner or later he will find us here. We must escape while we can."

She pulled from her belt the exquisite knife Jennsen had brought her from the dead D'Haran soldier. Still in its sheath, she spun it in her fingers, presenting it, hilt first, to Sebastian.

"This letter 'R' on the hilt stands for the House of Rahl. Our hunter. He would only have presented a weapon this fine to a very special soldier. I don't want a weapon which has been presented by that evil man."

Sebastian glanced down at the knife tendered, but didn't take it. He gave them both a look that unexpectedly chilled Jennsen to the bone. It was a look that burned with ruthless determination.

"Where I come from, we believe in using what is closest to an enemy, or what comes from him, as a weapon against him."

Jennsen had never heard such a sentiment. Her mother didn't move. The knife still lay in her hand. "I don't"

"Do you choose to use what he has inadvertently given you, and turn it against him? Or do you choose instead to be a victim?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you kill him?"

Jennsen's jaw dropped. Her mother seemed less astonished. "We can't," she insisted. "He's a powerful man. He is protected by countless people, from simple soldiers to soldiers of great skill at killing-like the one you buried today-to people with the gift who can call upon magic. We are but two simple women."

Sebastian was not moved by her plea. "He won't stop until he kills you." He lifted the piece of paper, watching her eyes take it in. "This proves it. He will never stop. Why don't you kill him before he kills you-kills your daughter? Or will you choose to be corpses he has yet to collect?"

Her mother's voice heated. "And how do you propose we kill the Lord Rahl?"