Terry Goodkind - Confessor - Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Jagang threw the covers off. “What’s going on out there?”

Kahlan knew that for the crime of disturbing Emperor Jagang Sister Ulicia was soon going to have even more reason to be moaning.

Jagang stepped down onto the floor, straddling Kahlan on the carpet beside his bed. He looked down deliberately, making sure that in the dim light of the lantern glowing atop the chest, she saw him naked and exposed over her. Satisfied with his silent, implied threat, he retrieved his trousers from a nearby chair. Hopping from one foot to the other he pulled them on as he started for the doorway. He didn’t bother putting on anything more.

He paused before the thick hanging that covered the doorway and turned back, crooking a finger at Kahlan. He wanted to keep an eye on her. As Kahlan rose to her feet, Jagang drew back the heavy covering over the doorway. Kahlan glanced to the side and saw the latest captive woman to be brought in as a prize for the emperor cowering on the bed, the blanket held in her fists up under her chin. Like almost everyone, the woman didn’t see Kahlan and had only been more confused and frightened the evening before when Jagang had spoken to the phantom in the room with him. That had been the least of the woman’s cause for fright that night.

Kahlan felt a jolt of pain sizzle down the nerves of her shoulders and arms, Jagang’s reminder through the collar not to linger in doing as she’d been told. Without letting him see how much it hurt, she hurried after him.

The sight that greeted her in the outer room was confusing. Sister Ulicia was rolling around on the floor, arms flailing as she babbled incoherently between moans and cries. Sister Armina, hunched over the woman at her feet, shuffled to and fro, following as Sister Ulicia writhed around on the floor, afraid to touch the woman, afraid not to, afraid of what might be the problem. She looked like she wanted to collect Sister Ulicia in her arms and quiet her lest she create a disturbance that would get the attention of the emperor. She didn’t yet realize that it was too late for that. Usually when one of those two was in any kind of agony it was agony inflicted by Jagang through his control of their minds, but now he, too, stood watching the strange sight, apparently unsure of what could be causing such behavior.

Sister Armina, already bent over the woman floundering on the floor, suddenly noticed Emperor Jagang and bowed deeper yet. “Excellency, I don’t know what is wrong with her. I’m sorry that she has disturbed your sleep. I will try to quiet her.”

Jagang, being a dream walker, didn’t need to speak to those whose minds were his domain. His consciousness wandered at will among their most intimate thoughts.

Sister Ulicia thrashed around, one wildly swinging arm knocking over a chair. Guards—the guards who had been specially selected because they were the few who could see and remember Kahlan—had all backed off in a circle around the woman rolling on the floor. They had been tasked with seeing to it that Kahlan didn’t leave the tent without Jagang. Sisters were not their responsibility. Other guards, Jagang’s personal elite guards, huge brutes all covered in tattoos and metal studs piercing their flesh, stood like statues near the doorway of the tent. The job of the elite guard was to see to it that no one entered the tent without invitation. They looked only mildly curious about what might be happening in their midst.

Off in the darker corners of the expansive tent, slaves waited in the shadows, always silently at the ready to carry out the emperor’s wishes. They, too, would show little reaction no matter what might happen right before them. They were there to serve at the whim of the emperor and nothing more. It was unhealthy for any of them, individually, to distinguish themselves in any way that might bring them notice.

The Sisters, sorceresses all, were Jagang’s personal weapons, his personal property and marked as such with rings through their lower lips. They were not the responsibility of any of the guards unless specifically instructed. Jagang could have cut Sister Ulicia’s throat, or raped her, or invited her to tea, and his elite guards would not have batted an eye. If it had been tea the emperor wanted, the slaves would have dutifully fetched it. If a bloody murder had been committed right before their eyes, they would have waited until he was finished and then without a word cleaned up the mess.

When Sister Ulicia cried out again, Kahlan realized that it didn’t look, as she had at first thought, like the woman was in pain. It looked more like she was . . . possessed.

Jagang’s nightmare gaze passed among the dozen guards. “Has she said anything?”

“No, Excellency,” one of the special guards said. The rest of the soldiers, those who could see Kahlan, shook their heads in agreement. The emperor’s elite guard did not dispute the account of the lesser men.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jagang asked the Sister, who looked ready to fall to the ground and grovel at his feet.

Sister Armina winced at the anger in his voice. “I don’t have any idea, Excellency, I swear.” She gestured toward the far side of the room. “I was asleep, waiting until I could be of service. Sister Ulicia was asleep as well. I woke when I heard her voice. I thought she was speaking to me.”

“What was she saying?” Jagang asked.

“I couldn’t understand her, Excellency.”

Kahlan realized, then, that Jagang didn’t know what Sister Ulicia had said. He always knew what the Sisters had said, what they’d thought, what they were planning. He was a dream walker. He wandered the landscape of their minds. He was always privy to everything.

And yet, he was not privy to this.

Or, Kahlan surmised, perhaps he didn’t want to say aloud what he already knew. He liked to test people that way, asking questions to which he already knew the answers. It displeased him greatly whenever he caught anyone in a lie. Only the day before he had erupted in a rage and strangled the life out of a new captive slave who’d lied to him about having taken a bite to eat off a tray coming in for the emperor’s dinner. Jagang, as heavily muscled as any of his elite guard, had accomplished the deed with one powerful hand around the gaunt man’s throat. The rest of the slaves had waited patiently until the emperor had finished the gruesome murder, and then dragged the body away.

Jagang reached down and with one meaty fist hauled the Sister to her feet by her hair. “What’s this about, Ulicia?”

The woman’s eyes rolled, her lips moved, and her tongue wandered aimlessly in her open mouth.

Jagang seized her by the shoulders and shook her violently. Sister Ulicia’s head whipped back and forth. Kahlan thought he very well might break her neck. She wished he would; then there would be one less Sister for Kahlan to worry about.

“Excellency,” Sister Armina said in a confidential tone of discreet counsel, “we need her.” When the emperor glared at her, she added. “She is the player.”

Jagang considered Sister Armina’s words, looking none too happy about them, but not arguing, either.

“First day . . .” Sister Ulicia moaned.

Jagang pulled her a little closer. “First day what?”

“Winter . . . winter . . . winter,” Sister Ulicia mumbled.

Jagang looked around, frowning at those in the room, as if asking them to explain it. One of the soldiers lifted an arm, pointing toward the doorway out of the grand tent. “It’s just dawn, Excellency.”

Jagang fixed him in a glare. “What?”

“Excellency, it’s just dawn of the first day of winter.”

Jagang let go of Sister Ulicia. She dropped heavily to the carpets that covered the floor.

He stared at the doorway. “So it is.”