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He was even more upset to know that a Mord-Sith had done this.
Which one had done it he didn’t know. Why she had done it he could not imagine.
“Lord Rahl,” Cara said, “I admit to not liking the woman, to not trusting her, but I would not have done this.”
Even Cara knew better than to test his patience right then.
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then say something,” she said.
He looked back at her. “I want to know who did this.”
She pressed her lips tightly together and nodded. She wanted to say that a Mord-Sith would not have acted on her own like this, not anymore. But she could not refute the evidence or the witnesses.
Cara herself had confirmed what Richard had already known: that the queen had died from an Agiel.
There was no doubt that a Mord-Sith had killed Queen Orneta. The only question remaining was which one.
Richard didn’t want to think it of any of them. They were all absolutely ruthless in defending Kahlan’s life and his, and ruthless in battle, but they were also ruthlessly loyal to him.
It just didn’t make any sense.
With a hand, Richard signaled Ambassador Grandon, standing out in the hall, to come forward. The ambassador dipped his head in acknowledgment of the Lord Rahl’s summons and shuffled into the room, fumbling with a button in his long coat the entire way.
He dipped his head again when he came to a stop. “Yes, Lord Rahl?”
“You say it was a Mord-Sith who did this and that you saw her?”
“Yes, Lord Rahl.”
“Describe her. What did she look like?”
He thought it over a moment. “Tall, blond hair. She had blue eyes.”
Richard fought to keep his reaction under control as he gestured at Cara standing next to him. “Cara is tall, she has blond hair and blue eyes. Was it her, then?”
Ambassador Grandon looked up at Cara. “Of course not, Lord Rahl.”
“A good many of the Mord-Sith have blond hair and blue eyes. Many people in D’Hara do.”
Ambassador Grandon dipped his head again as he continued to play with the button on his coat. “Yes, Lord Rahl.”
“So tell me what was different about this woman. How can we pick her out from all the other blond-headed, blue-eyed Mord-Sith? How do we know which one was responsible?”
The man finally let go of the button to tug on his pointed beard instead. “I don’t know, Lord Rahl. I didn’t look at her that directly, that carefully. I saw the red leather, the blond braid, the Agiel. And she had the attitude of a Mord-Sith, if you know what I mean. She was a woman to be greatly feared. I’m not sure I could point her out as the one even if I saw her again.”
Richard sighed in frustration. He knew the man was right. Few people would look a Mord-Sith in the eye or take more than a brief glance. He understood the feeling, the fear, well enough.
Richard rested the palm of his left hand on the hilt of his sword, tapping the cross guard with his thumb. “What were you and the others doing with Queen Orneta? Why were all of you gathered back there on the balcony? By the looks of all the cups and glasses setting around, you were all up there for quite a while. What were you all doing there?”
When the man paled a little, Richard knew that he had hit a soft spot. “Well, Lord Rahl, we were just talking.”
“Just talking. Just talking about what?”
“About prophecy.”
“Prophecy. And what were you all saying about prophecy? Considering that most of those people immediately packed up, and if they haven’t already gone, they are in the process of getting ready to leave.”
Ambassador Grandon licked his lips, carefully considering his answer. “Lord Rahl, I stayed behind for the moment because I felt that I at least owed you an explanation.”
Richard frowned. “An explanation for what?”
“For why the others have left, or are leaving, and what was decided. You see, we have heard what you and the Mother Confessor have had to say about prophecy. We have heard what Nathan, the prophet, has had to say, but we respectfully have our own view of it.”
Richard bit back a flippant answer. He paused and took a deep breath. He was the one, after all, who had told all of these people, who formerly had gone to their knees to chant a devotion to the Lord Rahl, that their lives were their own, and that they should rise up and live them. He expected them to think for themselves, to make their own reasoned decisions, to live their own lives.
Richard laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Ambassador Grandon, we are a free people. We all need to cooperate for our common prosperity, but I am not going to torture to death those who don’t want to follow my way of doing things. That was what the war was fought over— the idea that we are all entitled to live our own lives as we see fit. When I said that your lives are your own to live, I meant it. I would hope that people would see the wisdom and experience in what we say, and choose to go along willingly with us.”
The ambassador looked humbled, and regretful. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to hear such a sentiment, Lord Rahl. I guess that’s one reason it makes what I stayed to tell you all the more difficult to say.”
“Just tell me the truth, Ambassador. I can’t fault you for speaking truth.”
The man nodded. “You see, Lord Rahl, we realized that you have your own point of view about prophecy, and we can even understand that you undoubtedly have your own good reasons for that belief, but we believe that we need to know what prophecy says so that we may use it to help our people live better lives.
“Queen Orneta made the choice to throw her loyalty behind Hannis Arc, to follow his guidance with the aid of prophecy, if he will agree to give it. We don’t know for certain how he will receive our request for him to share his knowledge of prophecy but we have reason to believe that he will be open to our entreaty. After she made this decision, we all decided the same, that we wanted to listen to a leader who revealed prophecy and uses it, rather than … rather than you.”
Richard hooked his thumbs in his belt as he took another deep breath. “I see.”
“After that, when we were gathered up there on the balcony, the abbot asked the Mord-Sith who came to take the queen away what this was about, and she said that it was about the most recent prophecy. Abbot Dreier asked what the prophecy said. The Mord-Sith said that she didn’t know, but that a number of people had had the prophecy. When the abbot tried to stop the woman, she used her Agiel against him— hurt him quite badly.”
He gestured at the dead woman lying in a pool of blood. “The Mord-Sith took Queen Orneta away. We followed and heard what she did. After killing the queen, when she came out, we all thought we might be next. That’s why none of us really looked at her. Anyway, she left then, and we were all spared. So, some of us immediately went to the fortune-teller down in the halls.”
“Sabella,” Richard said. “I know her.”
Ambassador Grandon nodded. “That would be her.”
“So what did Sabella say?”
“She said that an omen had come to her the day before, an omen saying ‘A queen’s choice will cost her her life.’ This, of course, was after Queen Orneta had told us that her choice was to throw her loyalty behind Hannis Arc in return for his guidance with revealing prophecy.” He flicked a hand toward the dead queen. “Shortly after, Orneta lost her life.
“Prophecy had been fulfilled. Further proof to many of us that we are right to believe we need to be informed of prophecy, the need to follow a man fami
liar with prophecy, and one who will reveal it to us.”
“I see.”
The ambassador hung his head. “I’m sorry, Lord Rahl, but it is our lives and we choose to use what ever tools we can to preserve life. This is what we decided, and the reason many of the representatives are leaving. Some are already gone. Some are leaving as we speak. Some are packing now and will be leaving yet tonight.”
“You among them, Ambassador?”
He nodded as he tugged on his beard again. “Yes, Lord Rahl. Please do not think of it as turning away from you, but rather as wanting to open our ears to listen to a man who will reveal the dark secrets of prophecy to us.”
Dark secrets. Richard was at his wits’ end with the darkness that had come into the palace since that day he found the machine that issued prophecy.
Richard stood not far from a dead queen, her death predicted by the prophecy on the metal strip in his pocket. He was filled with a swirl of emotions. He thought it best to keep them to himself, especially the one wishing he could give all this up and go back to Hartland and work as a simple woods guide.
“I understand, Ambassador. I hope that you and the others will one day come to see my reasoning, and why I believe it must be as the Mother Confessor and I have said it must. You and the others are welcome to return to the palace if you have a change of heart.”
The man bowed his head again and then, after one more quick glance at the queen lying dead nearby, turned and left.
On his way out, he passed Nicci on her way in. She looked uncharacteristically gloomy. She cast a brief glance at the dead queen as she was being wrapped in a shroud before being lifted onto a litter and taken away for burial. Out in the hall a quiet group of the cleaning staff were standing solemnly by to come in and scrub the place clean of all the blood.
“I hear that she was killed by a Mord-Sith,” Nicci said.
“I’m happy to have any of us admit to killing,” Cara said, “but only when we have actually done it.”
She was in a foul mood and Richard couldn’t say he blamed her. His own mood wasn’t really any better.
