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She swung herself up into the saddle. "The beam in the central hall. It's the highest. Everyone will be able to see it."

"What are you talking about?"

She gave him a solemn look. "The beam in the central hall. That is where they will probably hang me from."

Richard swung up into his saddle. "It's your choice, Sister. You don't have to take me there."

She sighed. "Yes, I do." She gave him her most gentle and concerned look. He thought it quite convincing, if a little strained. "Richard, I only wish to help you. I want to be your friend. I think you need a friend right now. Very much."

Richard bristled. "That is a kind offer, Sister Verna. But I decline. You seem a little too quick to put that knife you keep up your sleeve in the back of your friends. Did it bother you at all, Sister Verna, to steal the life from Sister Elizabeth, a friend and companion? It didn't seem so. I decline to offer you my friendship, Sister. Or my back.

"If you are sincere in your wish to be my friend, then I would advise you to truly commit to it before I call upon you to prove it. When the time comes, you are only going to get one chance. There are no shades of gray in this matter. Only friends and enemies. Friends don't keep a friend in a collar, and hold them prisoner. I intend to have this collar off. When I decide it is time, any friend will help me. Those who try to stop me won't be my friends; they will be dead enemies."

Sister Verna shook her head and urged Jessup in behind him as he started away. "The beam in the central hall. I am sure of it."

20

The sound of her heart pounded in her ears. Struggling to control her panicked breathing, she ducked behind the fat trunk of an old pine, pressing up against the rough bark. If the Sisters had discovered she was following them...

The dark, damp air filled her lungs in ragged pulls. Her lips moved soundlessly with prayers to the Creator beseeching protection. With eyes as big as gold pieces, she stared into the darkness and swallowed, trying to wet her throat.

The dark form glided silently closer. She could just see it as she peeked out past the edge of the tree. She suppressed the urge to scream, to run, and prepared herself to fight. She reached for the sweet light; she embraced her Han.

The shadow slipped closer, hesitating, searching. One more step, just one more, and she would spring. She would have to do it right—make sure there was no chance to raise an alarm. It had to be fast, and it would take different kinds of webs, all thrown at once, but if she could be precise and quick, there would be no chance of a scream, no alarm, and she would know for sure who it was. She held her breath.

The dark shape finally took another step. Spinning out from behind the tree, she threw the webs. Cords of air, strong as dock line, whipped around the form. As the mouth came open, she jammed a solid knot of air into it, gagging it, before it had a chance to cry out.

She slumped a little with relief when no sound came forth, but her heart still raced nearly out of control as she gasped for air. With an effort, she managed to bring calm back to her mind, although she maintained a firm grip on her Han, fearful to let her caution slip; there could be others about. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the immobilized shape. When she was close enough to feel its breath on her face, she extended her palm up, and in its center released a thread of fire, to light a tiny flame, just enough to see the face.

"Jedidiah!" she whispered. She pressed her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers feeling the smooth, cool metal of the Rada'Han, and leaned her forehead against his as she closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Jedidiah. You gave me a such a fright."

She opened her eyes and looked up at his terrified face, lit by the tiny, flickering flame. "I will release you," she whispered softly, "but you must be very quiet. Promise?"

He nodded, as best he could, considering how tightly she had him bound. She slipped off the webs, pulling out the gag of air. Jedidiah sagged with relief.

"Sister Margaret," he whispered in a shaky voice, "you very nearly made me soil myself."

She laughed soundlessly. "I'm sorry, Jedidiah, but you very nearly did the same to me."

She snipped the thin thread of Han fueling the small flame and they both sank to the ground, leaning against one another, recovering from the fright. Jedidiah, several years younger, was bigger than she, a handsome young man. Painfully handsome, she thought.

She had been assigned to him when he had first come to the Palace and she had been a novice. He had been eager to learn, and had studied hard. He had been a pleasure from the first day. She knew others had been difficult, but not Jedidiah. He had done everything she had asked of him. She had only to ask, and he threw himself into it.

Others thought he was more eager to please her than to please himself in what he did, but none could deny that he was a better student than any other, and was becoming a better wizard, and that was all that mattered. This was one area where the results were what counted, not the method, and she had quickly earned her full Sisterhood for the way she had brought him along.

Jedidiah had been more proud of her than she had been of herself when she had been named a Sister of the Light. She was proud of him, too; he was probably the most powerful wizard the Palace had seen in a thousand years.

"Margaret," he whispered, "what are you doing out here?"

"Sister Margaret," she corrected.

"No one is around." He kissed her ear.

"Stop that," she scolded. The tingle from the kiss ran all the way down her spine; he had added a wisp of magic to the kiss. Sometimes she wished she wouldn't have taught him that. But other times, she ached to have him do it. "Jedidiah, what are you doing here? You have no business following me, following a Sister, out of the Palace."

"You're up to something, I know you are, and don't you try to tell me you're not. Something dangerous. At first, I was only a little concerned, but when I realized you were headed out into the Hagen Woods, I became frightened for you. I'm not going to let you go wondering into a dangerous place like this. Not by yourself anyway. Not without going along to protect you."

"Protect me!" she whispered harshly. "Might I remind you of what just happened? You were helpless in a heartbeat. You weren't able to fight off even a single one of my webs. You weren't able to break one of them. You are hardly able to touch your Han, much less use it effectively. You have a lot to learn before you are wizard enough to go around protecting anyone. It's all you can do at this point to keep from stepping on your own feet!"

The rebuke silenced him. She didn't like to reprimand him so harshly, but this was far too dangerous for him to be involved in, if what she suspected were true. She feared for him, and didn't want him hurt.

The things she had said weren't entirely true, either. He was already more powerful than any Sister, when he could bring everything together properly, even though that wasn't often. Already, there were Sisters who were afraid to push him too far. She could feel him look away.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," he whispered. "I was afraid for you."

Her heart ached at the hurt in his voice. She kept her head close to his so they could speak in soft whispers. "I know you are, Jedidiah, and I appreciate your concern, I really do. But this is Sister business."

"Margaret, the Hagen Woods are a dangerous place. There are things in here that could kill you. I don't want you in here."

The Hagen Woods were indeed dangerous. They had been for thousands of years, and had been left that way by decree of the Palace. As if they could do anything about it.

It was said the Hagen Woods were a training ground for a very special kind of wizard. That kind of wizard was not sent them, but went in by choice. Because he wanted to. Craved to... needed to.

But that was only what was said. She knew of no wizard going off to spend time in the Hagen Woods, at least not for the last few thousand years. If it were true any ever did. The tales said that in ancient times there were wizards of that kind, with that much power, and that they went into the Hagen Wood

s. Few ever came out, it was also said. But there were rules, even to this place.

"The sun didn't set while I was here. I came after dark. If you don't let the sun set on you in the Hagen Woods, you can leave, and I don't intend to stay long enough for the next sun to set on me. It is safe enough. For me, anyway. I want you to go home. Right now."

"What's so important that you would go in here? What are you doing? I expect an answer, Margaret. A truthful answer. I won't be put off. There is danger for you in this and I won't be put off."

She fingered the finely worked gold flower she kept on a chain around her neck. Jedidiah had made it for her himself, not with magic, but with his own hands. It was a morning glory, meant to represent his awakening awareness of the gift, an awareness she had helped to blossom. That little gold flower meant more to her than anything else she had.

She took up his hand and leaned against him. "All right, Jedidiah, I will tell you. But I can't tell you all of it. It's too dangerous for you to know everything."

"What's too dangerous? What can't you tell me?"

"Be quiet and listen, or I will send you back right now. And you know I can do it."

His other hand went to the collar. "Margaret, you wouldn't do that. Tell me you wouldn't do that, not since we have been..."

"Hush!" He fell silent. She waited a moment to be certain he was going to stay hushed before she went on. "I have suspected for a time that some of the ones with the gift who have gone away, or died, have not done so as it has been put to us. I think they have been murdered."

"What!"

"Keep your voice down!" she whispered angrily. "Do you want to get us killed, too?" He fell silent once more. "I think something awful is going on in the Palace of the Prophets. I think some of the Sisters murdered them."

He stared at her in the darkness. "Murdered? By Sisters? Margaret, you must be crazy to even suggest such a thing."


Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy

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She swung herself up into the saddle. "The beam in the central hall. It's the highest. Everyone will be able to see it."

"What are you talking about?"

She gave him a solemn look. "The beam in the central hall. That is where they will probably hang me from."

Richard swung up into his saddle. "It's your choice, Sister. You don't have to take me there."

She sighed. "Yes, I do." She gave him her most gentle and concerned look. He thought it quite convincing, if a little strained. "Richard, I only wish to help you. I want to be your friend. I think you need a friend right now. Very much."

Richard bristled. "That is a kind offer, Sister Verna. But I decline. You seem a little too quick to put that knife you keep up your sleeve in the back of your friends. Did it bother you at all, Sister Verna, to steal the life from Sister Elizabeth, a friend and companion? It didn't seem so. I decline to offer you my friendship, Sister. Or my back.

"If you are sincere in your wish to be my friend, then I would advise you to truly commit to it before I call upon you to prove it. When the time comes, you are only going to get one chance. There are no shades of gray in this matter. Only friends and enemies. Friends don't keep a friend in a collar, and hold them prisoner. I intend to have this collar off. When I decide it is time, any friend will help me. Those who try to stop me won't be my friends; they will be dead enemies."

Sister Verna shook her head and urged Jessup in behind him as he started away. "The beam in the central hall. I am sure of it."

20

The sound of her heart pounded in her ears. Struggling to control her panicked breathing, she ducked behind the fat trunk of an old pine, pressing up against the rough bark. If the Sisters had discovered she was following them...

The dark, damp air filled her lungs in ragged pulls. Her lips moved soundlessly with prayers to the Creator beseeching protection. With eyes as big as gold pieces, she stared into the darkness and swallowed, trying to wet her throat.

The dark form glided silently closer. She could just see it as she peeked out past the edge of the tree. She suppressed the urge to scream, to run, and prepared herself to fight. She reached for the sweet light; she embraced her Han.

The shadow slipped closer, hesitating, searching. One more step, just one more, and she would spring. She would have to do it right—make sure there was no chance to raise an alarm. It had to be fast, and it would take different kinds of webs, all thrown at once, but if she could be precise and quick, there would be no chance of a scream, no alarm, and she would know for sure who it was. She held her breath.

The dark shape finally took another step. Spinning out from behind the tree, she threw the webs. Cords of air, strong as dock line, whipped around the form. As the mouth came open, she jammed a solid knot of air into it, gagging it, before it had a chance to cry out.

She slumped a little with relief when no sound came forth, but her heart still raced nearly out of control as she gasped for air. With an effort, she managed to bring calm back to her mind, although she maintained a firm grip on her Han, fearful to let her caution slip; there could be others about. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the immobilized shape. When she was close enough to feel its breath on her face, she extended her palm up, and in its center released a thread of fire, to light a tiny flame, just enough to see the face.

"Jedidiah!" she whispered. She pressed her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers feeling the smooth, cool metal of the Rada'Han, and leaned her forehead against his as she closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Jedidiah. You gave me a such a fright."

She opened her eyes and looked up at his terrified face, lit by the tiny, flickering flame. "I will release you," she whispered softly, "but you must be very quiet. Promise?"

He nodded, as best he could, considering how tightly she had him bound. She slipped off the webs, pulling out the gag of air. Jedidiah sagged with relief.

"Sister Margaret," he whispered in a shaky voice, "you very nearly made me soil myself."

She laughed soundlessly. "I'm sorry, Jedidiah, but you very nearly did the same to me."

She snipped the thin thread of Han fueling the small flame and they both sank to the ground, leaning against one another, recovering from the fright. Jedidiah, several years younger, was bigger than she, a handsome young man. Painfully handsome, she thought.

She had been assigned to him when he had first come to the Palace and she had been a novice. He had been eager to learn, and had studied hard. He had been a pleasure from the first day. She knew others had been difficult, but not Jedidiah. He had done everything she had asked of him. She had only to ask, and he threw himself into it.

Others thought he was more eager to please her than to please himself in what he did, but none could deny that he was a better student than any other, and was becoming a better wizard, and that was all that mattered. This was one area where the results were what counted, not the method, and she had quickly earned her full Sisterhood for the way she had brought him along.

Jedidiah had been more proud of her than she had been of herself when she had been named a Sister of the Light. She was proud of him, too; he was probably the most powerful wizard the Palace had seen in a thousand years.

"Margaret," he whispered, "what are you doing out here?"

"Sister Margaret," she corrected.

"No one is around." He kissed her ear.

"Stop that," she scolded. The tingle from the kiss ran all the way down her spine; he had added a wisp of magic to the kiss. Sometimes she wished she wouldn't have taught him that. But other times, she ached to have him do it. "Jedidiah, what are you doing here? You have no business following me, following a Sister, out of the Palace."

"You're up to something, I know you are, and don't you try to tell me you're not. Something dangerous. At first, I was only a little concerned, but when I realized you were headed out into the Hagen Woods, I became frightened for you. I'm not going to let you go wondering into a dangerous place like this. Not by yourself anyway. Not without going along to protect you."

"Protect me!" she whispered harshly. "Might I remind you of what just happened? You were helpless in a heartbeat. You weren't able to fight off even a single one of my webs. You weren't able to break one of them. You are hardly able to touch your Han, much less use it effectively. You have a lot to learn before you are wizard enough to go around protecting anyone. It's all you can do at this point to keep from stepping on your own feet!"

The rebuke silenced him. She didn't like to reprimand him so harshly, but this was far too dangerous for him to be involved in, if what she suspected were true. She feared for him, and didn't want him hurt.

The things she had said weren't entirely true, either. He was already more powerful than any Sister, when he could bring everything together properly, even though that wasn't often. Already, there were Sisters who were afraid to push him too far. She could feel him look away.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," he whispered. "I was afraid for you."

Her heart ached at the hurt in his voice. She kept her head close to his so they could speak in soft whispers. "I know you are, Jedidiah, and I appreciate your concern, I really do. But this is Sister business."

"Margaret, the Hagen Woods are a dangerous place. There are things in here that could kill you. I don't want you in here."

The Hagen Woods were indeed dangerous. They had been for thousands of years, and had been left that way by decree of the Palace. As if they could do anything about it.

It was said the Hagen Woods were a training ground for a very special kind of wizard. That kind of wizard was not sent them, but went in by choice. Because he wanted to. Craved to... needed to.

But that was only what was said. She knew of no wizard going off to spend time in the Hagen Woods, at least not for the last few thousand years. If it were true any ever did. The tales said that in ancient times there were wizards of that kind, with that much power, and that they went into the Hagen Wood

s. Few ever came out, it was also said. But there were rules, even to this place.

"The sun didn't set while I was here. I came after dark. If you don't let the sun set on you in the Hagen Woods, you can leave, and I don't intend to stay long enough for the next sun to set on me. It is safe enough. For me, anyway. I want you to go home. Right now."

"What's so important that you would go in here? What are you doing? I expect an answer, Margaret. A truthful answer. I won't be put off. There is danger for you in this and I won't be put off."

She fingered the finely worked gold flower she kept on a chain around her neck. Jedidiah had made it for her himself, not with magic, but with his own hands. It was a morning glory, meant to represent his awakening awareness of the gift, an awareness she had helped to blossom. That little gold flower meant more to her than anything else she had.

She took up his hand and leaned against him. "All right, Jedidiah, I will tell you. But I can't tell you all of it. It's too dangerous for you to know everything."

"What's too dangerous? What can't you tell me?"

"Be quiet and listen, or I will send you back right now. And you know I can do it."

His other hand went to the collar. "Margaret, you wouldn't do that. Tell me you wouldn't do that, not since we have been..."

"Hush!" He fell silent. She waited a moment to be certain he was going to stay hushed before she went on. "I have suspected for a time that some of the ones with the gift who have gone away, or died, have not done so as it has been put to us. I think they have been murdered."

"What!"

"Keep your voice down!" she whispered angrily. "Do you want to get us killed, too?" He fell silent once more. "I think something awful is going on in the Palace of the Prophets. I think some of the Sisters murdered them."

He stared at her in the darkness. "Murdered? By Sisters? Margaret, you must be crazy to even suggest such a thing."


Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy