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Richard frowned in thought. “Why would these other people have the same prophecy, yet you don’t? You’re a prophet. You’re the one who should be having the prophecy.”
Nathan shrugged. “Maybe it’s not really prophecy.”
“It’s almost as if the machine wants to make sure that people hear the omens it gives,” Richard said, half to himself. “At least we got the princes safely away. Maybe people will think—”
“It gets worse.”
Richard looked up at the prophet. “Worse?”
“When Sabella gave this prophecy, and then I heard about the others who had spoken the same words, I went to check and, sure enough, Lauretta was there, down in the library below here, frantically writing this.”
Nathan handed Richard the paper he was holding. Kahlan put a hand on Richard’s shoulder as she leaned in to see it in the eerie light of the proximity spheres. Richard unfolded the paper as if fearing it might bite him.
It said, While at the palace, on the full moon, a prince from the west shall fall to fangs.
“It’s the exact same omen that the machine gave,” Richard said in a troubled voice. “Word for word.” He turned to Nicci. “Could these prophecies be from that game you mentioned before. They all sound something alike.”
“The first of these latest two, the one saying ‘Pawn takes queen,’ is the exact reverse of the prophecy from before— ‘Queen takes pawn.’ Both, though, are moves in the game of chess.” Nicci gestured to the paper he was holding. “But this last one about fangs taking a prince, even though it sounds like it could be a move in the same game, actually has nothing at all to do with the game of chess.”
Richard sighed in disappointment. Kahlan couldn’t imagine if the two prophecies were connected or not.
“Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl!”
It was Cara, screaming down from above. She raced down the spiral stairs three at time until she could duck low enough to see them.
“Lord Rahl, Benjamin sent me. You need to come to the representatives’ apartments at once. Hurry.”
CHAPTER 45
Kahlan followed close on Richard’s heels as they ran past clusters of people gathered in the halls, everyone from the night cleaning staff to representatives who were staying in the nearby apartments. Plush carpets laid over the white marble floors cushioned their footfalls and muted the jangle of armor.
Kahlan kept her eye on snatches of red leather out ahead of Richard as Cara led them through the maze of halls. She took them around corners and down the ornately paneled hallways among the luxurious guest quarters where the representatives were staying.
A number of the emissaries and officials stood among soldiers in the network of corridors along the way. They shouted questions as Richard and Kahlan ran past. Neither of them answered or slowed. They could hardly tell people what was going on when they didn’t know themselves.
As they rounded an intersection, Kahlan saw guards up ahead blocking people from going any farther up the hall. When they saw Richard coming, the guards pushed people aside to make way for him. With all the men of the First File looking grim and implacable, the people appeared to be generally doing what the guards asked of them.
Kahlan saw Queen Orneta working her way to the front of the observers crowded into the corridor. The queen looked as concerned and confused as everyone else.
Beyond the guards keeping people back were hundreds of men of the First File packed into the broad corridor. All the soldiers wore armor of some sort, either leather, chain mail, or polished breastplates, depending on the unit they belonged to and their duties. All of them were heavily armed and all of them had one kind of weapon or another in hand.
Companies of men with spears tipped in razor-sharp broad-points all stepped back against the wall, spears all vertical, as Cara, Richard, Kahlan, Nathan, and Nicci raced past. The spearmen could close ranks in a hallway and present a nearly impenetrable wall of sharpened steel if need be. Men with swords stepped aside as well but also kept a wary watch up ahead.
Kahlan wondered what could have drawn this many men.
When they finally broke through the crowds of people and the massed soldiers, they came to a relatively open section of the corridor where even most of the soldiers were kept back.
General Meiffert and a handful of men waited up ahead outside ornately carved double doors of one of the apartments. While Kahlan knew that these corridors were where high-ranking guests and representatives had their quarters, she didn’t know who occupied this one.
As they all came to a stop outside the doors, Richard glanced down at the floor. Kahlan followed his gaze and saw thin trickles of blood running out from under the doors, across exposed white marble, and then finally under the rug.
Cara, Agiel in hand, moved in close beside Richard. Nicci closed in beside Kahlan, boxing her and Richard in between a Mord-Sith and a sorceress. Nathan finally caught up, bringing up the rear.
Richard gestured at the doors as he addressed the general. “What’s going on?”
“We’re not sure, Lord Rahl. People in a nearby apartment were awakened by howling, and then the most horrific screams.”
Richard drew his sword. The unique ring of steel echoed through the hallway.
“Do you know whose room this is?”
General Meiffert nodded. “It’s King Philippe’s room.”
“And why is everyone standing around out here?” Richard’s tone carried the heat of the sword’s magic. “Why didn’t you go in there and see what’s wrong?”
The general’s jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. “We’ve been trying our best, Lord Rahl. Bu
t try as we might, we haven’t been able to break the doors down. At least, not yet. A lot of these rooms are for important guests who feel the need for safety, so the doors are heavily reinforced and they are backed with massive bolts.”
Kahlan saw that the doors were gouged and damaged from the effort.
“With as much trouble as we’re having getting in, and as hard as we’ve been trying, it could also be some kind of shield of magic barring the doors,” the general added.
“I suppose it’s possible, but magic is weakened in the palace unless it’s used by a Rahl,” Richard said. “Who could be using magic to shield the doors?”
Kahlan could see the anger of the sword in his gray eyes, and she could see him fighting to control it.
When the general had no answer, Nathan spoke up. “Richard, even someone with weakened power could likely muster enough force to create a shield strong enough to help bar a door.” He cocked his head, as if listening. “I can’t detect anything, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t shielded.”
The general turned at a sound of men rushing in from behind him. “No matter— we’ll get it open now.”
A group of soldiers shuffled up the hall, carrying a long iron block with a bar down each side for handholds. The battering ram was heavy enough that it took eight muscular men to carry it and they were still having trouble.
Just then, King Philippe, sword in hand, ran up behind the guards holding people back, trying to shove his way through. When General Meiffert signaled to let the man through, he rushed up behind Richard and Kahlan.
“This is my room. What’s going on!” he demanded.
“We don’t know, yet,” the general said.
King Philippe saw the blood running out across the floor. He frantically rattled one of the the door handles, trying to open the door. “My wife is in there!” He threw a shoulder against the door repeatedly but it didn’t budge.
