Terry Goodkind - The Pillars of Creation

Jennsen had been little when her mother had taken her away. Her childhood memory of having lived here had not prepared her adult sensibilities for the actual splendor of the palace. The heart of D’Hara stood noble and proud, triumphant above a barren land. Her awe was dimmed only by the taint of it also being the ancestral home of the Lord Rahl.

Jennsen swiped a hand over her face, closing her eyes briefly against her pounding headache, against what it meant to be the prey of Lord Rahl. It had been a difficult and exhausting journey. After they had stopped each night, Sebastian used the cover of darkness to scout while she started to make camp. A number of times he had rushed back with the horrifying news that their pursuers were closing in. Despite exhaustion and her tears of frustration, they had to pack up and keep running.

“I think we came here for a reason,” she finally answered. “Now is a poor time to lose courage.”

“Now is the last chance to lose courage.”

She studied the note of caution in his blue eyes for only a moment before answering by wading back into the moving river of people. Betty sprang to her feet, peering up at the strangers as she pressed in close to Jennsen’s left leg. Sebastian moved in close on the other side.

An older woman in a cart beside them smiled down at Jennsen. “Care to sell your goat, dear?”

Jennsen, one hand grasping Betty’s rope along with Rusty’s reins, her other holding the hood of her cloak closed against a cold gust of wind, smiled, but shook her head firmly to decline. As the woman in the horsedrawn cart returned a disappointed smile and started to move away, Jennsen saw a sign on the cart proclaiming sausages for sale.

“Mistress? Are you here selling your sausages today?”

The woman reached behind, pushed aside a lid, and stretched her hand into one of the kettles nestled snugly in blankets and cloth. She came up holding a fat coil of sausage.

“Fresh cooked this morning. Could I interest you? Only a silver penny and well worth it.”

When Jennsen nodded eagerly, Sebastian passed the woman the coin requested. He cut the sausage in two and handed half to Jennsen. It was wonderfully warm. She quickly devoured a few bites, hardly taking the time to chew. It was a relief to dull the sharp edge of her gnawing hunger. Only after those bites were down did she begin to appreciate the taste.

“It’s delicious,” she called up to the woman. The woman smiled, seeming not at all surprised at the compliment. Walking abreast with the cart, Jennsen asked, “Would you happen to know of a woman by the name of Althea?”

Sebastian swept a furtive gaze around at the people walking within earshot. The woman, not at all shocked by the question, leaned down toward Jennsen.

“You’ve come for a telling, then?”

Although she couldn’t be sure, Jennsen thought it easy enough to guess what the woman meant. “Yes, that’s right. Would you know where I can find her?”

“Well, dear, I don’t know her, but I know of her husband, Friedrich. He comes to the palace to sell his gilded carvings.”

Many of the people moving up the road looked to have come to sell their wares. Jennsen dimly recalled when she was very young the palace being a buzz of activity, with throngs coming every day to sell everything from food to jewelry. Many towns near where Jennsen had lived when she was older had a market day. The People’s Palace, though, was a city with the buying and selling of goods taking place every day. She recalled her mother taking her to booths to buy food and, once, cloth for a dress.

“Would you know where we can find this man, Friedrich, or someone else who knows the way?”

The woman gestured ahead toward the palace. “Friedrich has a small booth in the marketplace. Up top. As I hear told, you’ll need to be invited out to see Althea. I’d advise you to talk to Friedrich, up top.”

Sebastian put a hand on Jennsen’s back as he leaned past her. “Up top?” he asked the woman.

She nodded. “You know. Up top, where the palace is. I don’t go up there myself.”

“Then where do you sell your sausages?” he asked.

“Oh, I have my cart and horse, so I stay down along the road, selling to those going to and from the palace. They won’t let you take those horses of yours up, if it be your intention to go look for Althea’s husband. Your goat, neither, for that matter. There are ramps for horses inside for the soldiers and those with official business, but wagons with supplies and such mostly use the cliff road on the east side. They don’t let just anyone ride their horses up. Only the soldiers keep horses up top.”

“Well,” Jennsen said, “I guess we’ll need to stable them, if we’re to go up to find Althea’s husband.”

“Friedrich doesn’t come often. You’ll be lucky to catch him on a day he’s here. Best, though, if you could talk to him.”

Jennsen swallowed another mouthful of sausage. “Do you know if he would be here today? Or what days he does come to the palace?”

“Sorry, dear, but I don’t.” The woman pulled an oversized red scarf over her head and fastened it tight with a knot under her chin. “I see him now and then, that’s all I know. I sold him sausages a time or two to take home to his wife.”

Jennsen glanced up at the looming People’s Palace. “I guess we’ll just have to go for a look, then.”

They weren’t even inside, yet, and already Jennsen’s heart was pounding at a furious pace. She saw Sebastian’s fingers glide over his cloak, touching the hilt of his sword. She couldn’t resist brushing her forearm against her side, checking for the reassuring presence of her knife under her own cloak. Jennsen hoped not to be in the palace long. When they found out where Althea lived, they could be on their way. The sooner the better.

She wondered if Lord Rahl was at the palace, or off making war on Sebastian’s homeland. She felt great empathy for his people being at the mercy of Lord Rahl—a man she knew to be without a shred of mercy.

On their journey to the People’s Palace, she had asked Sebastian about his homeland. He had shared with her some of the convictions and beliefs of the people in the Old World, their sensitivity for the plight of their fellow man, and their longings for the blessings of the Creator. Sebastian spoke passionately about the beloved spiritual leader of the Old World, Brother Narev, and his disciples of Order, who taught that the welfare of others was not only the responsibility but also the sacred duty of all people. She had never imagined a place with people who were so compassionate.

Sebastian said that the Imperial Order was fighting back valiantly against Lord Rahl’s invaders. She, of all people, understood what it was to fear the man. It was that fear that worried Jennsen about going into the palace. She feared that if Lord Rahl was there, his powers might somehow tell him that she was near.

An orderly column of soldiers in chain mail and dark leather armor rode out, headed in the opposite direction. Their weapons—swords, axes, lances—flashed menacingly in the morning sunlight. Jennsen kept her eyes turned to the ground ahead and tried not to stare at the soldiers. She feared they could pick her out of the throng by sight, as if she were glowing with some mark only they could see. She kept the hood of her cloak pulled up to cover her red hair, fearing that it would attract unwanted attention.

As they drew near the great portals into the plateau the crowds grew thicker. Spread out on the Azrith Plains to the south of the cliffs, vendors had set up their stalls in makeshift streets. Those newly arrived settled in wherever they found room. Despite the cold, everyone seemed in a good mood as they went about setting out their wares. Many were already doing a brisk business.