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“Such actions can never accomplish anything but to start violence,” an old man objected.
“Look around,” Anson said. “The violence has not begun tonight, but ended. Violence has been crushed, as it should be, by crushing evil men who bring it upon us.”
People nodded to one another, the heady relief of being suddenly freed from the grip of the terror brought by the soldiers of the Imperial Order plainly overcoming their objections. Joy had taken over from fear. The reality of having their lives returned had opened their eyes.
“But you must understand, as we have come to understand,” Owen said, “that nothing can ever again be the way it once was. Those ways are in the past.”
Richard noticed that the men weren’t slouching anymore. They stood with their heads held high.
“We have chosen to live,” Owen told his people. “In so doing, we have found true freedom.”
“I think we all have,” the old man in the crowd said.
Chapter 49
Zedd frowned with the effort of concentrating on what it was Sister Tahirah had placed on the table before him. He looked up at her, at the way her scowl pinched in around her humped nose.
“Well?” she demanded.
Zedd looked down, squinting at the thing before him. It looked like a leather-covered ball painted with faded blue and pink zigzagged lines all around it.
What was it about it that seemed so familiar, yet so distant?
He blinked, trying to better focus his eyes. His neck ached something fierce. A father, hearing his young son in the next tent screaming in appalling agony, had grabbed Zedd by the hair and yanked him away from other parents who, pulling and pawing at him, made desperate demands of their own. Because of the torn muscles in his neck, it was painful to hold up his head. Compared to the torture he’d heard, though, it was nothing.
The dim interior of the tent, lit by several lamps hanging from poles, felt as if it were detached from the ground and swirling around him. The foul place stank. The heat and humidity only made the smell, and the spinning, worse. Zedd felt as if he might pass out.
It had been so long since he’d slept that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had actually lain down. The only sleep he got was when he fell asleep in the chair while Sister Tahirah was seeing to another object being unloaded from the wagons, or when she went to bed and the next Sister hadn’t yet arrived to take the next stint in their laborious cataloging of the items brought from the Keep. The catnaps he got were rarely longer than a few precious minutes at a time. The guards had orders not to allow him or Adie to lie down.
At least the screams of the children had ended. At least, as long as he cooperated, those cries of pain had stopped. At least, as long as he went along, the parents had hope.
A violent crack of pain suddenly hammered the side of his head, knocking him back. The chair toppled over, spilling him to the ground. With his arms bound behind his back, he couldn’t do anything to break the fall and he hit hard. Zedd’s ears rang, not only from the fall, but with the aftermath of the blow of the Sister’s power delivered through the collar around his neck.
He hated that wicked instrument of control. The Sisters were not shy about exercising that control. Because the collar locked him away from the use of his own gift, he could not use his ability to defend himself. Instead, they used his power against him.
It took little or no provocation to send one of the Sisters into a fit of violence. Many of these women had once been kindly people devoting their lives to helping others. Jagang had enslaved them to a different cause. Now they did his bidding. Though they might have once been gentle, they were now, he knew, trying to keep one step ahead of the discipline Jagang meted out to them. That discipline could be excruciating beyond endurance. The Sisters were expected to get results; Jagang would not be interested in the excuse that Zedd was being difficult.
Zedd saw that Adie, too, had been knocked to the ground. Any punishment he received, she, too, endured. He felt more agony for her than for himself.
Soldiers standing to the side moved in to right the chair and lift Zedd into it. With his arms bound behind his back, he couldn’t get up by himself. They sat him down hard enough to drive a grunt from his lungs.
“Well?” Sister Tahirah demanded. “What is it?”
Zedd once again leaned in, staring down at the round object sitting by itself in the center of the table. The faint blue and pink lines zigzagging all around it stirred deep feelings. He thought he should know this thing.
“It’s…it’s…”
“It’s what!” Sister Tahirah slammed the book against the edge of the table, causing the round object to bounce up and roll a few inches before it came to a stop closer to Zedd. She tucked the book under one arm as she leaned with the other on the table. She bent down toward him.
“What is it? What does it do?”
“I…I can’t remember.”
“Would you like me to bring in some children,” the Sister said in the soft, sweet tone of a very bitter threat, “and show you their little faces before they are taken to the tent next to us to be tortured?”
“I’m so tired,” he said. “I’m trying to remember, but I’m so tired.”
“Maybe while the children are screaming you would like to explain to their parents that you are tired and just can’t quite seem to remember.”
Children. Parents.
Zedd suddenly remembered what the object was. Painful memories welled up. He felt a tear run down his cheek.
“Dear spirits,” he whispered. “Where did you find this?”
“What is it?”
“Where did you find it?” Zedd repeated.
Huffing impatiently, the Sister straightened. She opened the book and made a noisy show of turning heatedly through the pages. Finally, she stopped and tapped a finger in the open book.
“It says here that it was found hidden in an open recess in the back of a black six-drawer chest in a corridor. There was a tapestry of three prancing white horses hanging above the chest.”
She lowered the book. “Now, what is it?”
Zedd swallowed. “A ball.”
The Sister glared. “I know it’s a ball, you old fool. What is it for? What does it do? What is its purpose?”
