The Pillars of Creation (34 page)

Although he didn’t look down, she knew by the expression on his face that he interpreted her need to be away early as having to do with the knife at her belt. She said nothing to dissuade that notion.

“We appreciate the generous contribution to our sect. It will help in our efforts to help our people.”

Jennsen knew he was just marking time until she said what was really on her mind, so she finally did. “I would like to inquire about a man that I’ve learned is living with the Raug’Moss. He may even be a healer, I’m not sure. I’d like to know if you know anything about him.”

He shrugged. “Ask. I will tell you what I know.”

“His name is Drefan.”

For the first time that night, the man’s eyes revealed the fire of emotion. “Drefan was the evil spawn of Darken Rahl.”

Jennsen had to force herself not to show any reaction at the power of his words. She reminded herself that he had seen her knife with the symbol of the House of Rahl, and that might be coloring his words. Still, he sounded emphatic.

“I know that much. I still need very much to find him.”

“You’re too late.” A satisfied smile ghosted across his face. “ ’Master Rahl protect us,’ “ he quoted from the devotion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Lord Rahl, the new Lord Rahl, killed him—spared us all from that bastard son of Darken Rahl.”

Jennsen
.

Jennsen sat stunned, feeling almost as unseen talons were coming out of a dark sky toward her throat.

“You’re sure” was all she could think to say. “I mean, you’re sure that Lord Rahl was the one who did it.”

“While there were polite words spoken about Drefan’s death, about how he had died in service of the people of D’Hara, I believe, as do the rest of the Raug’Moss, that Lord Rahl killed Drefan.”

Jennsen
.

Polite words. Polite words for murder. Jennsen imagined that one did not just come right out and call it murder to Lord Rahl’s face. Ordinary people were murdered. Lord Rahl’s victims died in service to the people of D’Hara.

Jennsen felt her chest tightening at the fright of Lord Rahl being one murder closer to her. Darken Rahl had not found Drefan. Richard Rahl had. Richard Rahl would find her, too.

She gripped her trembling hands together in her lap, under the table. She hoped her face didn’t show anything. This man was obviously loyal to the Lord Rahl. She dared not reveal her true revulsion, her true terror.

Surrender
.

Her true anger.

Surrender
.

That single word echoed around in her head behind the tumbling thoughts, her frustration, her hopeless gloom, her burgeoning anger.

Jennsen sat alone on the floor before the robust fire Sebastian had made for her, staring into the flames, her unblinking gaze absently fixed on the glowing yellow-orange coals that now and again dropped from the checkering logs. She only dimly recalled the farewells to the healer and the boy’s mother. She was hardly aware of the slow shuffle through the snow and cold that had gotten her to the empty cabin.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at nothing, as somber thoughts glided unceasingly through her mind. In his unrelenting effort to get to her, Richard Rahl had taken Jennsen’s mother from her, leaving her with no sense of family or home. Jennsen missed her mother to the marrow of her bones, missed her so much that the agony seemed unendurable, yet she had no choice but to endure it. There were no tears left. At times, even the pain of the loss seemed to grow distant.

Ever since Althea had told her about Drefan, Jennsen had thought that if she could find this other child of Darken Rahl, her half brother, a hole in the world like her, she might find strength through that connection. She thought that they might possibly have a sense of kinship and, in their common struggle, together come up with a solution to their shared station in life. Whether or not any of that might have come to pass, she would never know, now.

It had been her hope that it would. That hope was dead. Richard Rahl had killed Drefan. Richard Rahl would surely kill her when he found her. And he would find her. She knew that, now. Really knew it. He would find her.

Jennsen
.

A mad torrent of thoughts cascaded through her mind, everything from hope to despair, terror to rage.

Tu vash misht. Tu vask misht. Grushdeva du halt misht
.

The voice, too, was there, beyond the churning thoughts, beyond the turmoil of emotions, beyond the jumble of disorder, whispering to her in those strangely seductive words.

In the end, all other thoughts melted away in the glowing heat of her anger.

Jennsen. Surrender
.

She had tried everything else. She had no options left. The Lord Rahl had cut her off from any other hope. She had no choice.

She knew what she had to do, now.

Jennsen rose up, feeling the strange sensation of inner peace at having made the decision. She threw her cloak around her shoulders and marched out into the still, frigid, quiet night. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe it. The snow crunched as she made her way through the fresh tracks.

Shivering with the cold, or maybe the enormity of what she had decided, she knocked gently on the door to the last cabin. Sebastian pulled the door in enough to see it was her, and then, quickly, opened it to admit her. She hurried in though the opening, into the firelight and cocoon of warmth. Delicious heat embraced her.

Sebastian was without a shirt. By his clean scent and the towel thrown over his shoulder, she realized that she must have caught him at the washbowl. He had probably filled a washbowl in her cabin, too, though she hadn’t noticed.

Concern creased Sebastian’s brow as he stood, posture tense, waiting to see what had brought her there. Jennsen stepped up close to him, so close that she could feel the heat of him. Fists at her sides, she met his eyes boldly.

“I intend to kill Richard Rahl.”

He studied her face, accepting her determined words calmly, as if he had known all along that she would someday come to see the inescapable need. He remained silent, waiting to hear the rest of what she had to say.

“I know, now, that you were right,” she said. “I have to eliminate him or I’ll never be safe. I’ll never be free to live my own life. I’m the only one to do it—the one who must do it.”

She didn’t tell him why it had to be her.

His hand came up to grip her upper arm. His intense gaze never left hers. “It will be difficult getting near such a man in order to do as you must. I’ve told you that we have sorceresses with the emperor, sorceresses fighting to end the reign of Lord Rahl. Let me take you to them, first.”

Jennsen had been focused on the decision rather than the details of how to go about it. She had given no thought to the approach or dealing with all the layers of people who would be protecting him. She would have to get in close enough for the killing itself. She had only pictured in her mind hitting him with her fist clutching her knife, yelling at him, screaming how much she hated him, how much she wanted him to suffer for all he had done. She had only fixed on the deed, not on how she would come to be standing that close before him. There were practical matters she needed to take into account if she was to succeed.

“Do you think these women could help me with what you said—magic used to end magic. Do you think they might be able to provide me with the means to go after him?”

Sebastian nodded. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t. I know the destructive power of the magic on Lord Rahl’s side—I’ve seen it with my own eyes—and I know how our sorceresses have been able to help us fight back. Magic can’t do it all, but I think they can provide valuable help.”

Jennsen held herself erect, her chin up. “I would appreciate it. I will gladly accept any assistance they can offer.”

A small smile curved the line of his mouth.

“But know this,” she added. “With or without their help, I intend to kill Richard Rahl. If I must go alone and bare-handed, I intend to kill him. I will not rest until I do, because I have no life until I kill him—by his choice, not mine. I’m at the end of running. I will run no more.”

“I understand. I will take you to our sorceresses, then.”

“How far do you think it is to the Old World? Until we can reach them?”

“We won’t be going to the Old World for now. In the morning we’ll need to start looking for a pass to the west, over the mountains. We have to begin looking for a way into the Midlands.”

Jennsen pulled a ringlet of her hair back off her face when she noticed him looking at it. “But, I thought that the emperor and the Sisters of the Light were in the Old World.”

Sebastian’s expression twisted with a sly smile. “No. We cannot allow Lord Rahl to bring war to our people without answering his aggression, without making him pay a price. We intend to fight, and win—the same as you have finally decided. Emperor Jagang is with our troops, laying siege to their seat of rule in the Midlands, the city of Aydindril. That’s where the Confessors’ Palace is—Lord Rahl’s wife’s palace. We’re cleaving the New World. When spring arrives, we will take Aydindril and break the back of the New World.”

“I had no idea. Have you known all along that Emperor Jagang would try something so bold?”

Sebastian half laughed. “I’m his strategist.”

Jennsen’s jaw dropped. “You? You thought of it?”

He dismissed her wide-eyed astonishment. “Emperor Jagang came to the rule of the Old World because he is a genius. He had two alternatives in this, two different recommendations—to attack the Midlands, or to attack D’Hara first. Brother Narev advised that right is on our side, and that the Creator would grant us victory either way, so he had no preference, no military advice to offer.

“The emperor himself already had the goal of Aydindril in mind, though he kept silent on it until he heard the recommendations. My recommendation decided it for him. Emperor Jagang does not always use my strategy, but I was pleased that in this he saw what I saw—that taking the city and palace of Lord Rahl’s wife would not only be a momentous military victory, but will also strike a great blow at our enemy’s very heart.”

Jennsen was seeing him again as she had at first, in awe at how important he truly was. This was a man who, in part, directed the very course of history. The fate of nations, and countless lives, hung on Sebastian’s word.

“You don’t think the emperor may have taken the Confessor’s Palace by now?”

“No,” he said with certainty. “We will not waste our brave men trying to take such an important objective until the weather is with us. We will seize Aydindril in the spring, when this wretched winter is over. I think we can yet reach them in time to be there for the great event.”

Jennsen was enthralled by the very idea of seeing such a momentous event—the forces of a free people striking a mighty blow against Lord Rahl. At the same time, she knew it meant the beginning of the end of D’Hara. But it really only meant the end of evil rule.

In the crackling firelight, it seemed a remarkable night in more ways than one. The world was changing and she was going to be a part of it. She had changed this night, too.

The fire was warm on the side of her face. She realized that she had never seen Sebastian without a shirt. She liked the sight.

His other hand came up to gently grasp her other arm. “Emperor Jagang will like to meet you.”

“Me? But, I’m no one important.”

“Oh, yes, Jennsen, Jagang the Just will be eager to meet you, I can promise you that, to meet the brave woman who wishes to strike such a blow for our courageous people, for the future of a free mankind, and finally bring an end to the scourge of the House of Rahl. For such an historic event as the taking of Aydindril and the Confessor’s Palace, Brother Narev himself intends to travel up from the Old World to witness the great victory on behalf of our people. I’m sure he, too, would be most pleased to meet you.”

“Brother Narev…”

Jennsen thought about the sweep of events that, until now, she had no idea were taking place. Now she was a part of those momentous events. She felt a kind of thrill that she would meet Jagang the Just—a real emperor—and maybe even Brother Narev, who Sebastian said was just about the most important spiritual leader ever to have lived.

Without Sebastian, none of it would be possible. He was such a remarkable man—everything from his wonderful blue eyes and his exotic spikes of white hair, to his handsome smile and extraordinary intellect.

“Since you had a hand in planning the campaign, I’m happy that you’ll be there to see your strategy triumph. I admit, too, that I would be honored to be in the presence of such great and noble men.”

Even though Sebastian seemed as modest as always, she still thought she saw a spark of pride in his eyes, but then he turned serious. “When we meet with the emperor, you mustn’t be alarmed by what you see.”

“What do you mean?”

“Emperor Jagang has been marked by the Creator with eyes that see more than ordinary men can see. Foolish people are frightened by his looks. I wanted to forewarn you. You mustn’t be frightened of such a great man simply because he looks different.”

“I won’t be.”

“It’s settled, then.”

Jennsen grinned. “I agree to your new strategy. We can leave for the Midlands, the emperor, and the Sisters of the Light in the morning.”

It seemed he hardly heard her. His gaze wandered her face, her hair, returning at last to her eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

Jennsen felt his fingers tighten on her arms, pulling her closer. “You favor me with such words,” she heard herself say. He was a trusted advisor to an emperor. She was just a girl who grew up in the woods. He influenced history; she simply ran from it. Until now.

And yet, he was just Sebastian. A man she talked with, traveled with, ate with. She had seen him yawn from exhaustion and fall asleep countless times.

He was a fascinating mix of nobility and commoner. He seemed to chafe at being held in awe, yet by his manner he seemed to court it, if not demand it.

“I’m sorry at how inadequate those words sound,” he whispered, looking very humble. “I mean so much more than that you’re merely beautiful.”

“You do?” Her words were more than a question. They were expectant wonder.

Sebastian’s mouth met hers in a rush. His arms surrounded her. She held her hands out to the side, afraid to hug him because if she did she would have to touch his naked flesh. She stood in his arms, her own arms held out stiffly, her spine arched back under the press of him.

His mouth felt luscious against hers. His arms did more than encircle her; they sheltered her. Her eyes closed as she sagged into his kiss. His whole body felt so hard against hers. His fist seized her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her as he moaned against her lips, as his warm tongue unexpectedly filled her mouth. Jennsen’s head was spinning with the delicious sensations.

The world seemed to be tipping, and she felt as if she were hanging in his arms. She felt the sudden press of the bedding against her. The shock of being on her back, with him atop her, had her suddenly confused and not knowing what to do or how to react.

She wanted to stop him before he went any further. At the same time, she feared to do anything that would cause him to stop, to believe she was spurning him.

It occurred to her how very alone they were. Such isolation worried her. Yet, it excited her, too. With the two of them so completely alone, only she could stop him. The choices that she made not only decided her own path, but also held sway over Sebastian’s heart. It gave her a comforting sense of power.

But it was just a kiss. More of a kiss than in the palace, but still, just a kiss. A head-spinning, heart-pounding kiss.

She surrendered herself into his embrace, daring to use her tongue as he did his, and was exhilarated by his ardent response. She felt like a woman—a desirable woman. Her hands ran up the smooth skin of his back, feeling the landscape of his bone and muscle, unhindered by a veil of cloth, feeling him flex as he pressed against her. She could hardly get her breath with the wonder of such feelings.

“Jenn,” he whispered breathlessly into her ear, “I love you.”

Jennsen was stunned speechless. It didn’t seem real. It felt like she had to be dreaming it, or living in someone else’s body. She knew she’d heard him say it, but it just didn’t seem real to her.

Her heart was racing so fast that she feared it might burst. Sebastian’s breath, too, came in desperate pulls, as if his lust for her were driving him mad. She clung to him, eager to feel the warm breath of his words in her ear again.

She feared to believe him, though, to allow herself to believe him, to know if it was real, if this was really happening to her, or if she was only imagining it.