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What he was doing was not working. He had to do something else, or he was going to die.
Her blade was a blur in the moonlight. He released himself, gave sanction to his inner self, his gift. He would surrender to whatever was there, or he would die. It was his only chance. He found the calm center within, and did its bidding.
He saw the Sword of Truth thrusting upward. His knuckles were white with effort. The sword was a white glow in the gloomy light.
With all his force, he drove the hissing white blade into Liliana, under her ribs. When the tip severed her spine, coming out her back between her shoulderblades, she went limp. Only his sword and strength held her upright.
Her mouth dropped open in a gasp. Her sword fell, sticking in the ground to the side. Her wide, pale eyes stared down at him.
"I forgive you, Liliana," Richard whispered.
Her arms twitched in an uncoordinated manner. Terror filled her eyes. She tried to speak, but only blood frothed forth.
There was an ear-splitting crack, like a lightning strike, but instead of a flash of light, a ripple of total darkness swept through the forest. Its touch made his heart skip a beat. When it lifted, the moonlight seemed dazzling, and Liliana was dead.
Richard knew—the Keeper had taken her.
Before, he had called the sword's white magic, knowing full well what it meant. This time, he had done as Nathan had told him, and let his instinct, his gift, call it forth. It had been a surprise to him, both the instant calling of the white magic, and the fact that he had not consciously done it.
Something within had known that that was what was needed to counter the Keeper's hate that filled Liliana. Richard was left stunned by what had happened. He stared down at Liliana as he withdrew his sword. He had confided in her. He had trusted her.
He realized that he was still where he had started—with the collar around his neck, and no ideas of how to get it off. Collar or no collar, he had to get through the barrier that kept him here. He decided that he would go get his things from the Palace, and then he would find a way through the invisible wall.
As he wiped the sword clean on her clothes, he recalled how it had been in the center of the clearing, a good distance from him. He had somehow called it to him, along with the magic. The sword had flown through the air, and come into his hand.
He set the sword on the ground, and experimentally called its magic. The anger, the fury, filled him, as always. He held his hand out and willed the blade to come to him. It laid rock solid on the ground. Try as he might, it would not so much as twitch.
Frustrated, he returned it to its scabbard. He pulled her sword from the ground and broke the blade over his knee. When he threw it aside, he noticed something white nearby.
White bones gleaming in the moonlight were mostly all that remained of the desiccated corpse. Only the top half was there. He assumed animals must have gotten the rest, but then he found the pelvis and legs, some distance away. Tattered remains of a dress that matched the top half still surrounded the leg bones.
Richard knelt, inspecting the upper body. Animals had not touched it. There was not a single tooth mark on any bone. It remained now, as it had fallen.
With a frown, he saw that the bones of the lower spine were shattered. He had never seen bones splintered in such a way. It was as if this woman had been blown in half, while alive.
He knelt silently, staring, wondering. Someone had killed this woman. Somehow, he knew: magic, had killed this woman.
"Who did this to you," he whispered down at the corpse.
Slowly, a skeletal arm rose toward him in the moonlight. The fingers uncurled. A thin chain dropped down, dangling from the bones of a finger.
Richard, his hair feeling as if it were trying to stand on end, carefully took the chain from the fingers. There was a single object on the chain. He held it up in the moonlight and saw it was a lumpy piece of gold, formed into the letter "J".
"Jedidiah," Richard whispered, now knowing what made him do so.
66
As Richard approached, he noticed a commotion on the stone bridge. A crowd lined one edge, everyone looking down to the river. At the center, he eased his way through toward the low, walled railing. An he did, he saw Pasha at the crown, too, leaning out over the stone, looking down.
"What's going on?" he asked as he came up behind her.
Pasha spun at the sound of his voice. She flinched when she saw him. "Richard! I thought..." She looked back over the railing, down to the river, and then back to him.
"You thought what?"
She threw her arms around his middle. "Oh, Richard! I thought you were dead! Thank the Creator!"
Richard pried her arms off and then leaned over, looking down to the dark river below. Several small boats, each with a lantern, were towing a body tangled in their hand-casting nets. In the flickering yellow light, he could see the red coat.
Richard ran over the bridge and down the banks, reaching the shore as the men were landing the boats. Grabbing the nets from a man, he hauled them and their load up onto the grassy bank.
There was a small, round hole in the lower back of the red coat. He rolled the body over and looked into Perry's dead eyes. Richard groaned.
Wizard's Second Rule. Perry had died because Richard had violated it. He had tried to do something good, with the best of intentions, and it had brought harm. It was Richard the dacra had been meant for. It was he they thought they were killing.
Pasha was standing on the bank behind him. "Richard, I was so afraid. I thought it was you." She started crying. "What was he doing in your red coat?"
"I loaned it to him." He gave her a quick hug. "I have to go, Pasha."
"You don't mean, the Palace. You didn't really mean what you said about leaving. I know you didn't. You can't leave, Richard."
"I meant every word. Good night, Pasha."
He left the men to their grisly task and headed for his room. Someone had meant to kill him, and it hadn't been Liliana. Someone else was trying to kill him.
As he was loading his things into his pack, he heard a knock at his door. He froze, a shirt half-folded in his hands. Then he heard Sister Verna's voice beyond the door, asking if she could come in.
Richard yanked the door open, preparing to launch into a tirade, but the look on her face caught the words in his throat. She stood woodenly, staring off at nothing.
"Sister Verna, what's wrong?" He took her arm and led her into his room. "Here, sit down."
She sank to the edge of the chair. Richard knelt in front of her and took her hands.
"Sister Verna, what's wrong?"
"I've been waiting for you to return." Her puffy, red eyes finally sought his. "Richard," she said in a subdued voice, "I could really use a friend right now. You are the only one who came to mind."
Richard hesitated, she knew his condition, though he now knew she couldn't get the collar off.
"Richard, when Sisters Grace and Elizabeth died, they passed their gift to me. I have more power than any Sister at the Palace, any normal Sister. I know you won't believe this, but I doubt even that will be enough to remove your collar. But I wish to try."
Richard knew that she couldn't remove it. At least he was told that she couldn't. Maybe Nathan was wrong.
"All right. Try then."
"There is pain involved..."
Richard's brow drew together in a suspicious frown. "Why do I not find that surprising?"
"Not for you, Richard. For me."
"What do you mean?"
"I have discovered that you have Subtractive Magic."
"What would that have to do with it?"
"You locked the Rada'Han on yourself. It locks on by using the magic of the one it is attached to. I have only Additive Magic. I don't think that will be sufficient to break the bond.
"I have no power over your Subtractive Magic. It will fight what I try to do, and that will hurt me. But don't be frightened. It won't hurt you."
Richard di
dn't know what to do, what to believe. She put her hands to his neck, at the sides of his collar. Before she closed her eyes, he saw a glazed look he recognized. She was touching her Han.
Muscles tense, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, he waited, prepared to react if she tried to harm him. He didn't want to believe Sister Verna would harm him, but then, he hadn't thought Liliana would ever hurt him either.
Her brow wrinkled. Richard felt only a pleasant, warm tingle. The room vibrated with a dull hum. The corners of carpets curled up. Windows rattled in their frames. Sister Verna shook with effort.
The standing mirror in the bedroom shattered. Panes of glass in the doors exploded as the doors to the balcony banged open. The curtains billowed outward as if in a wind. Plaster fell from the ceiling, and a tall cabinet toppled over with a crash.
A low moan of pain issued from her throat as the flesh on her face trembled.
Richard seized her wrists and pulled her hands from his collar. She sagged forward.
