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Nicholas watched, not wanting to miss a single delectable detail. With the spirit of Richard Rahl’s lovely bride beside him, as it were, Nicholas felt almost a part of the family as he attended the approach of such a great man’s tragic end.
Nicholas felt it only fair that the Mother Confessor should get to see it all played out, see the sad end to her beloved. As she watched along with Nicholas, she was suffering seeing the agony of it as Richard Rahl walked back into his camp.
Nicholas savored her distress. He had not yet begun to make her suffer. He would soon have a very long time with her to explore her capacity for suffering.
The people there in the woods around the campfire looked up, curious as their master returned among them. They all waited, with Nicholas, watching, with Nicholas, as their Lord Rahl stood over them. His figure wavered in the fire, as it did in Nicholas’s vision. It was almost as if he were already but a spirit, about to drift away into the glorious oblivion of the dead.
“I’ve figured it out,” Lord Rahl told them. “I know how to attack the fortification.”
Nicholas’s ears pricked up. What was this?
“At first light we go in,” Lord Rahl said. “Just as the sun breaks over the mountains. Right then, on the east side, we’ll come in over the wall. The guards won’t be able to see well because the sun will be in their eyes when they look in that direction. Men don’t look where it’s troublesome to look.”
“I like it,” one of the other men said.
“So we will sneak in, then, rather than try to attack,” another said.
“Oh, no, there will be an attack,” Lord Rahl said. “A big attack. An attack that will set their heads to spinning.”
What was this? What was this? Nicholas watched, watched, watched. This was most curious. First Lord Rahl was going to sneak over the wall, and then he would have his men attack? How was he going to set their heads to spinning? Nicholas was fascinated.
He moved in a little closer, fearing to miss a precious word.
“The attack will involve all the rest of you men,” Lord Rahl said. “You will all come in toward the gate at first light. While you’re attacking through the gate and drawing their attention, I will be slipping over the wall. While you will be there to distract them, in part, you will play an even more vital role that they will never expect.”
The game was afoot. Nicholas was in rapture as he listened, as he watched. He so liked the game—especially when he knew all the rules, and could bend them to his wishes. It was going to be a glorious day, tomorrow.
“But, Lord Rahl,” the big man, Tom, asked, “how are we going to be able to attack through the gate if it’s as formidable as you say?”
Nicholas hadn’t thought of that. How curious. A key part of Lord Rahl’s plan seemed to be faulty.
“That’s the real trick,” Lord Rahl said. “I’ve already figured it out and you’ll be amazed to hear how you’re going to do it.”
He had already figured it out? How curious. Nicholas wanted to hear what possible solution could solve such a major hitch in Lord Rahl’s plan.
Lord Rahl stretched and yawned. “Look,” he said, “I’m exhausted. I can’t stand up anymore. I need to get some rest before I lay it all out for you. It’s complicated, so I’d better wait until just before we leave.
“Wake me up two hours before dawn, and I’ll explain the whole thing, then.”
“Two hours before dawn,” Tom repeated in confirmation of the orders.
Nicholas was furious. He wanted to hear it now. He wanted to know the wonderful, fabulous, complicated plan.
Lord Rahl gestured to his delicious companion, the one named Cara, and then to several of the young men. “Why don’t you come with me and get some sleep while the rest finish their meal.”
As they started away, Lord Rahl turned back. “Jennsen, I want you to keep Betty here, with you. Make sure she stays here. I need some sleep; I don’t need the smell of goat to wake me up.”
“Am I going with you in the morning, Richard?” the one called Jennsen asked.
“Yes. You play an important part in the plan.” Lord Rahl yawned again. “I’ll explain after I’ve slept. Don’t forget, Tom. Two hours before dawn.”
Tom nodded. “I will wake you myself, Lord Rahl.”
Nicholas would be there as well, to watch, to hear the final piece of Lord Rahl’s plan. Nicholas could hardly stand to wait that long. He would be there early. He would hear every word of it.
And then, Nicholas would have a surprise waiting for Richard Rahl when he and his men came for a visit.
Maybe neither the poison nor his gift would take Lord Rahl.
Maybe Nicholas would do it himself.
Her spirit a helpless prisoner of the Slide, Kahlan could do nothing but watch along with him. She was unable to answer Richard’s forlorn pleas, unable to cry in sorrow for him, unable to do anything. She ached to be able to hold him in her arms again, to comfort his pain, his heartache.
He was near the end. She knew that.
It broke her heart to see his precious life slipping away.
To see his tears.
To hear him cry her name in longing.
To hear him say how much he needed her.
She felt so cold and alone. She loathed the feeling of being adrift. She desperately wanted to be back in her body. It waited somewhere back in a lonely room in the fortified encampment. Nicholas’s body waited there, too. If only she could get back there.
Most of all, she wished there were some way she could warn Richard that Nicholas knew his plan.
Chapter 63
Nicholas lay in wait in the camp, sniffing, listening, watching, eager for the game to continue. He had come early, fearing to miss anything. He was sure it had to be two hours before dawn—time for the last act of the play. It was time for the man, Tom, to wake Lord Rahl. It was time. Watch, watch, watch. Where was he? Somewhere, somewhere. Look, look, look.
Men off through the trees stood guard over the camp. Where was Tom? There he was. Nicholas saw that Tom was one of the men standing vigil as others slept. Didn’t want to be late. Lord Rahl’s orders. He wasn’t sleeping, he was awake, so he should know it was time.
What was the ma
n waiting for? His master had given him a command. Why wasn’t he doing as he had been told?
The woman, Jennsen, woke and rubbed her eyes. She looked up and took appraisal of the stars and moon. It was time—she knew it was. She threw off her blanket.
Nicholas followed behind as she rushed past the low glow of the smoldering embers, rushed through the stand of young trees, rushed to the big man leaning against a stump.
“Tom, isn’t it time to wake Richard?”
Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body waited, Nicholas heard an insistent noise. He was absorbed in the task at hand, in the game, so he ignored the sound.
Probably Najari. The man was eager to have a chance to get at the Mother Confessor, a chance to enjoy her more feminine charms. Nicholas had told Najari that he would have his chance, but he had to wait until Nicholas returned. Nicholas didn’t want the man tampering with her body while they were gone. Najari sometimes didn’t know his own strength. The Mother Confessor was valuable property and Nicholas didn’t want that property damaged.
Najari had proven to be a loyal man and deserved a small reward, but not until later. He would not disobey Nicholas’s orders. He would be sorry if he did.
Maybe it was just—
Wait, wait. What was this? Watch, watch, watch. The man stood and put a hand reassuringly on the young woman’s shoulder. How very touching.
“Yes, I guess it is about time. Let’s go wake Lord Rahl.”
Again the noise. Stealthy, sharp yet soft.
Most odd. But it would have to wait.
Through the woods. Hurry. Watch, watch, watch. Hurry. Couldn’t they move faster? Didn’t they grasp the importance of the occasion? Hurry, hurry, hurry.
“Betty,” the Jennsen woman growled, “stop bumping my legs.”
