Chapter 3

"Teach me one of the songs you learned as a mercenary, Krissen!"

"Yeah, one of the good ones." The tone he used implied that good was synonymous with "bawdy." Kris was surrounded by Rider trainees demanding to hear a song.

Finally, he awoke.

Zedd remembered from his training that dreamrose brought true dreams, but didn’t really know what to do about it. He took in his surroundings--an elaborate guest room, seemingly hospitable, with a locked door. It was protected by magic as well--effectively, a fancy cage. He had been put to sleep on a tall canopy bed, and beside him on the floor was his pack of clothing. His sword had been taken, but he gladly changed into something clean. He looked up to see something he hadn’t noticed before--a tapestry, done in brilliant colors, hanging over the fire burning in the fireplace.

...The fire burning in the fireplace.

Geyshard had forgotten one thing, and it would be his undoing.

"Damn you!" Krissen cried, her fist pounding into the wall. "Why do you have to be like this? So--you’re such a child!" It was just as well Nikain was working late at the archives, or he might have been intrigued by Kris’s talking to herself. Well, not to herself--to someone miles and miles away, someone who could not hear her shouts, no matter how loud they were.

Though they might have come close...

"Damnit, why do all males have to think they can save the world all on their own?"

You used to feel that way yourself, Krissen.

"I was just a child then," Kris told the taunting inner voice.

If you’ve grown up now, why are you throwing a temper tantrum?

"I’m not throwing a temper tantrum! I’m taking out all my anger and fear--"

Throwing a tantrum.

"Well, everyone needs to have a tantrum sometime! If we didn’t, we’d all go insane!"

That’s all very well, but do put an end to it soon. That fire is starting to look awfully strange...

It was. The flames were shot through with an indistinguishable color, pulsing and getting stronger. Now she could see it--green.

"Zedd!" she cried out, running towards the fire. Then she blushed at her eagerness and cleared her throat. "Ah...Zedd?"

"Good! You’re home." His voice sounded as if it came from miles away, but she almost felt as if she could see him.

"What do you want?" she asked, controlling her voice carefully.

"There’s so much to tell you, Kris," he said breathlessly. "There’s more going on here than we’d guessed. Both Geyshard and my...my father have hired mercenary companies. You know what that means." Kris didn’t miss the way he struggled to get out the word "father", but there could be many reasons for that...

"Great Mother! The King won’t sit still when he hears this!"

"The King doesn’t need to find out."

"Are you kidding? This is the chance we’ve been waiting for! A rider group or two would—"

"I can take care of this myself!" The resolution in his reply shocked her. "I don’t need you coming in to rescue me. I don’t have to depend on you!"

"I'm not asking you to depend on me, I'm asking you not to get in over your head! Are you suicidal, or just crazy?"

"Neither! I’m the same rank mage as Geyshard—I can probably defeat him."

"But what about his army? Are you going to take them on alone as well?"

"I don’t care about the armies. Let the mercs take care of the mercs. They won’t be watching me." He said it with more conviction than he felt.

"Sure, who cares about mercs? Who cares if they live or die? Same with ex-mercs, hmm?" Kris retorted.

"They’re the ones putting their lives on the line for pay! And I didn’t mean you, Kris. I don’t want you to get hurt."

"If you don’t want my help, why did you even bother sending to me?"

"I miss you, okay? And I wanted you to know what was going on. So you wouldn’t worry."

"As if what you said hasn’t worried me at all?! Damn you, Zedd, what kind of fool do you think I am?" She was extremely close to breaking the connection.

"I’m going to do something by myself for once," Zedd insisted.

"And Kahlan would’ve been a good little girl and let you get killed? Why do you put up with me?"

"Sometimes I wonder..." he muttered. Out loud, he said, "If you hate me so much, why are you worried about me?"

"I don’t hate you. Deep beneath your arrogance lies a redeemable soul. I’m not trying to steal your glory, I just want to keep you from getting killed!"

"Who made you my mother?" Zedd demanded.

"If that’s the way you feel, then I won’t come. Get into trouble, if that’s what you want. Die, if that’s what you want. I turn my face from you." She used her Gift to snuff out the flames in the fireplace. She heard the front door open and shut. So, Nik had finally decided to return.

Kris hurried to him to tell him what she knew, of the mercenaries and Lord Geyshard’s crimes. She left out her argument with Zedd, only saying that it was imperative that she go to him as soon as she could.

Though only the gods know why...bastard deserves what he’s getting. Some of the men I worked with were pretty chauvinistic--but at least they knew better than to turn down help when it was offered!

"...But you’re not running off to the rescue without a good night’s sleep," Nik was saying. "I’ll take care of informing the King, but I insist that you rest."

Zedd tore his mind from Kris’s cutting him off. That hadn’t exactly been the reaction he was hoping for, but he had more important things to think about. Like getting out.

Surprisingly, a simple unlocking spell opened the door. So maybe you’re not the great mage you think you are, he thought smugly. He checked the hall. Satisfied that it was empty, he walked out, keeping his steps as silent as possible.

I need some sort of plan...

"Well, Zeddicus of Veldine, I see you’re up and around."

Zedd forced himself to keep from jumping. How had he sneaked up on him like that?

"Yes. I found my rest quite...refreshing." He allowed a hint of irony to creep into his voice, not wanting to be seen as too gullible. Neither did he want to offend Geyshard...

"And what do you say of my offer?"

"I think perhaps an agreement could be reached," Zedd replied, hiding a grin. He had seen the masked surprise in Geyshard’s eyes--perhaps this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought!

"Yes, perhaps."

"So long as my sister is safe, I’m sure I can be...agreeable. Shall we find a place to discuss this alone?"

"There are others who should be included," Geyshard said. Damn. So much for getting this over with quickly, Zedd thought. "Like Hirom Khallis, who arrived while you were...resting. I’d like you to meet the captain of Spidrenvenom."

On cue, a man stepped out of the shadows--a man who looked like a shadow himself. His hair and eyes were black, and he was dressed all in black leather--an outfit that must be stifling in this weather. He didn’t seem to be suffering, though. He regarded Zedd impassively.

"Charmed."

"The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure," Zedd muttered, and Captain Khallis responded with a glare.

"There’s someone else I’d like you to meet, Zedd," Geyshard continued. "May I present the Lady Asuka of Greyford?"

She stepped out from around the staircase, and Zedd’s jaw dropped. Not because she was beautiful--though she was, with a perfect complexion and long black hair. She looked about seventeen, certainly not older than Zedd.

She was wearing a black robe.

But when he looked into her eyes, he shivered. There was something empty there, as if the true owner of that body was not at home. Zedd’s jealousy vanished as if it had never been. Perhaps she did have the power to hold that robe--but one's soul was too high a price for any power.

Love--something I’ve known, and yet I’m a stranger to it...fumbling around the edges, trying but never quite succeeding in finding its true center...you say you love me, then you tell me I can’t be myself, but how will you love me if I’m someone I’m not? Don’t you want to love me?

Seconds of laughter, hours of silence--sleep, blessed sleep, warmth not my own--human comforts, only. Is that where love is? Words of devotion, words of hope, words of pain, lies. Words--what comfort something so insubstantial brings to us. Belief depends more on what we want to think than what is--and yet, we cling to it, the world we see, the world we have created with our eyes, the world that hates us. The world we live in--people--so many people, going all different directions...it does not matter to me. People I will never know, people I know too well--Zeddicus? Lies...

"Hacia? There’s something you should know."

Hacia turned to face Nikain, her expression obviously impatient. "What do you want?"

"Lords Harold and Geyshard have hired mercenary companies, but the king is still reluctant to interfere--"

"What an idiot!" she interrupted.

"No, wait, there’s more," Nik said hurriedly. "He hinted that if a group were to be assembled on a completely voluntary basis, without official approval from the king--"

"Ah!" Hacia smiled. "Does Kris know?"

"Kris already left. She’s going to scout out the situation for us."

"Thank you, Nikain. I’ll be off to start recruiting right away."

"You’ve already found one," Nik said.

"Who?" Hacia wondered, and Nikain’s face fell.

"Me, of course!"

"Oh." Hacia looked rather disappointed. "But you’re not trained to fight!"

"I can’t just sit here and do nothing! Zedd’s my friend, perhaps my closest friend other than my sister."

"Oh, all right, I guess you can’t hurt," Hacia sighed, giving in. "We’ll need all the help we can get. Just don’t slow us down. We’ll leave tomorrow morning."

After the "meeting", Zedd followed Asuka down the hall. She had been almost completely silent throughout the meeting--as opposed to most of the black-robes Zedd knew, who had a surplus of character as well as magic. He thought she didn’t notice him, until a few minutes later, she turned around.

"Why are you following me?" she asked, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"It’s just--you’re a black robe--have we met? I went to the Carthaki University too--" He was completely flustered--Asuka’s eerie presence unnerved him.

"Perhaps," she was saying. "I don’t remember."

"My name’s Zeddicus, Zeddicus Zemenszar," he told her.

"I know that," Asuka replied. "He told me about you. He says he will make you a black robe, same as I." Becoming a black robe had never sounded so distasteful to Zedd. He had no doubt as to the "he" that Asuka spoke of was--and it made him even more determined to defeat him.

"It’s not power I want," he told her through clenched teeth.

"It is not for you to decide." Her face remained placid, even though Zedd’s patience was coming to an end. "The master says he will control you. Then we will have powerful children. It is what the master wants."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Zedd muttered, clenching his hands into fists.

"He knows you think to stop him, Zeddicus of Veldine." Now she smiled, and it took all Zedd’s patience to keep from throwing a spell at her. "But you cannot. Either go with his plans, or you will be the same as I am."

"You’re--not human!" he shouted.

"I do what the master tells me to. If I am killed, I will be replaced. You will replace me."

"So, you don’t have a soul, do you? Or Lord Geyshard has taken it from you. Damn you both!"

"But you care for none of this," Asuka replied. Her smile was infuriating. "You only care for the life of your sister. You wanted to deny your family, yet you have returned to defend it. Are you any less of a hypocrite than he is?"

"It’s not for them, I’m going to rid the world of his evil!" It was more to reassure himself than to sway the mind of the woman with the dead eyes. Her hypnotic calm was getting to him, making him believe--

No! I’m not like that! That’s not what I want!

"You’ve studied for years to become a mage. Is it not power you want? Is it not power that everyone strives for?"

"You lie!" Zedd shouted.

"But you want all the glory of your victory! Is that not why you told her to stay? Did you think Geyshard would expect to hold you with a simple locking spell? Did you think he was not monitoring your room? You are alone, Zedd, and there are many of us. You can't win." She smiled, but her tone was a challenge. Zedd would've struck her if a voice in the back of his head hadn’t spoken up at that moment.

When you strike her, you are striking yourself! Defeat her with words, or die of your own hand!

"It is not the possession of power, but the use of it, that determines the good or evil of its possessor," he told her. "I wouldn’t want to be like you if it meant I would have all the power in the world, and that makes me stronger than you." The words flowed from some unknown source, as if he were only a channel for them. "Stronger than you and your damned master, stronger than anything you could throw at me! I will win this battle, not for Veldine, not for Kristia, not even for myself, but because I must!"

"Then fight," Asuka said softly. For a moment, life seemed to return to her face. "Kill him, and free--" She stopped, and her face went blank again.

"What a fine lot of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into." The deep voice came from behind Zedd.

"Great Mother!" he hissed, startled.

"No, it’s Mithros."

Zedd turned to face the god. "What happened to Asuka, to turn her into that--that thing?" he demanded.

"Geyshard has taken her and removed all thought other than her knowledge of magic, and a blind devotion to him," Mithros said. "She is nothing more than an empty husk, now. Do not let it trouble you."

Zedd couldn’t agree. Her flash of personality had shown him that her past had not been completely eradicated. "I have to save her," he said.

"There is nothing left, Zeddicus. She is only a weapon of Geyshard’s that can be used against you." He sighed. "It’s a difficult path you’ve chosen, Zeddicus. Not impossible, but if you hadn’t been so arrogant and allowed Kris to help--"

"Kris always feels like she has to protect me," Zedd said uncomfortably. "I have to prove to her that I can take care of myself."

"But does she see it that way?" asked Mithros.

"No, but I can make her see it. I know she’ll come to reason. This is just something I must do myself."

"You must not only destroy Geyshard, but his sword as well," Mithros told him seriously. "If you destroy the sword, your enemy will fall easily, but with it you will not defeat him. Remember that as you make your plans. Until we meet again, Zeddicus."

Kris had made her plan carefully. For all she knew Zedd’s conversation could’ve easily been monitored, so she knew better than to travel as a warrior. Instead, she had put an illusion her sword to make it look much cheaper, and traveled as a minstrel. She knew she wasn’t a great flutist, but good enough to earn a few nobles playing on the streets in the evenings.

Now that she was three nights away from Corus, the land was becoming dryer, and it was harder to find a town. She was lucky enough to have reached one tonight, but tomorrow she’d probably end up camping. She took her flute and played at the corner by her inn, like she had before.

"You think anyone’s going to listen to you when Jedrick Roseclayne is coming tonight?" someone asked her. Kris stopped.

"Who?"

"You haven’t heard of him? He’s the greatest bard that ever lived!"

"Never heard of him," Kris replied with a shrug.

"Well, I just might be able to remedy the situation," someone said, coming around the corner. Upon looking at the newcomer, the woman who had just been raving about him looked as if she might swoon. Kris had to admit he was rather handsome, and his grin was that of a notorious charmer. He was the stereotypical tall, dark, and handsome type--with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that hinted at a life-on-the-edge personality. And yet Kris, who usually didn’t fall for the type, found herself liking him--not attracted to him, but she saw something redeeming she couldn’t put her finger on.

"Oh, come on now, don’t insult this bright young minstrel," he was saying. "Though she may not be able to play everything, she plays the flute beautifully--as beautiful as her face. What’s your name, sweetheart?"

"It’s Krissen." She knew that pointing out how she didn’t like to be called sweetheart was useless, but her reply was still crisp.

"So, Krissen, my dear, would you care for some...ah...music lessons? They’re on me," he said with a wink. The other woman looked like she might die of jealousy.

"No thanks," Kris replied, knowing perfectly well what he meant by "music lessons."

"I’m hurt," Jedrick said, his face saying he wasn’t. "You must come and listen to me play to make up for it. And you too, my dear?" he directed at the other woman.

"Of course, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else tonight!" she said.

"I’ll come and hear you play, Mr. Roseclayne," Kris sighed.

"Oh, please call me Jedrick. Fellow minstrels should be friends, you know?" Kris nodded. "But I really must run, ladies. I begin playing at the Silver Hawk in a half-hour. See you there!" He blew a kiss and hurried off.

"He’s a charmer, all right," Krissen muttered. Still, he intrigued her, and she had given her word that she’d come and listen to him play.

She didn’t regret it. For all his boasting, he really was a wonderful bard. He could pick up nearly any instrument and play it better than Kris could play the flute, and his voice could convey every emotion believably, and beautifully as well. He could go from a love ballad to a bawdy folk tune smoothly, and make the second sound as good as the first. Technically he was perfect--stylistically he left nothing to be desired. Perhaps his arrogance was well founded.

But he kept looking at Kris, his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to discern--something. She felt that he suspected her of something--but what, she didn’t know. However, after he was done, he didn’t talk to her. Instead, he spoke to the woman who’d been with Kris earlier, and she accepted his offer of "music lessons"--or whatever line he chose to use on her. Kris decided not to worry about it, and get some sleep, as she still had long days ahead of her.

The night was remarkably clear. Hacia lay in the grass outside their campsite watching the stars, thinking deeply. In the camp were about fifty recruits--almost all of the trainees, as well as two full rider groups and several members of the King’s Own who had trained with Kris. Among them was her beloved Jayshar, extremely worried about the teacher he idolized. Sweet boy, Jayshar--Hacia wished she could relate as well with one of her trainees as Kris did with him.

"Are you all right?" wondered Makoto, a member of her rider group, the tenth.

"I’m fine," Hacia told him. "Just enjoying the night sky. Sometimes being alone is a blessing--at others, a curse. This is a time when I’d like to be alone."

"All right, Captain." Makoto was in his first year as a Rider--he didn’t know Hacia as well as the other members of her group, not enough to be on a first name basis. He went back to the camp quickly, leaving Hacia to her solitude. Though the camp was probably bustling with action at this time, out here it was peaceful. She heard another set of footsteps and braced herself to have to speak with another person. Luckily, the person did not seem to want to speak with her--instead, he took a seat several yards away. Hacia sighed in relief--he must be another person like her, seeking solitude.

There was a long silence after that, and Hacia looked over at the person who had also come outside, trying to make out his face.

"I always feel like the sky’s going to fall down on me when I look up," he said, noticing her attention. "But I do it anyway. Kinda makes you feel insignificant, doesn’t it?"

"Small, but I don’t know about insignificant," Hacia replied, looking back at the sky. "You’re only insignificant if you let yourself be."

"‘Do the stars themselves sway to the whims of the gods, or does even their power dwindle next to the mass of the universe?’" the man quoted.

"Perrel Harvey, On Divine Matters," Hacia replied quickly, as if her father were quizzing her on it all over again.

"Half the scholars I know wouldn’t know that!" the man replied in mild shock. That voice sounded somehow familiar...

"I had to. My da was--and still is, as far as I know--a teacher, and he was really into all that theological stuff. And astronomy--he’d take me and my brothers up on the roof, and we’d all look through a spyglass up at the sky. I can point out all the constellations--there’s Shining Mithros, and the Mother Goddess and her cat. The Great Wolf is just coming over the horizon."

"And there’s the Staff of Aurelam, and the Northern Crown. I take it you know all the myths as well?"

"You name it, I know the story," Hacia sighed.

"If only all fighters were as well-learned as you," the man sighed. She saw him lean back to lie down.

"You’d be surprised how many of us are." Then she blinked, realizing something odd about what he said. "What, you’re not a fighter?"

"No, I’m the palace archivist. I practically had to beg Hacia to let me come along," he said distastefully.

"But--I’m Hacia!"

Nik stood up and walked over to look closely at her. "Great merciful mother, you are!" he said.

"I’m sorry, I should be going now--" Hacia began, standing up to leave, but Nik grabbed her arm.

"You don’t get away that easily," he told her firmly, despite the fact that she was much stronger than him and could have escaped his grip easily. "I was enjoying talking to you too much."

"You didn’t think so earlier!" Hacia protested.

"Well, I changed my mind." Nik smiled. "I misjudged you, Hacia. I’m sorry."

"And perhaps I have misjudged you as well." Hacia relaxed. "I should’ve known you couldn’t be an old stick if Kris liked you so much."

"And I could think the same of you." He released Hacia’s arm. "We should do some reevaluation, then. Would you like to take a walk?"

She nodded. "So, where do we begin?"

Kris saddled Morning Star and began loading her packs, whistling the tune of "The Adventures of the Restless Sailor," the song she’d taught the Riders a few days ago. She wasn’t paying any attention to what was going on around her, didn’t hear him sneak up--

"Just where are you going, Miss Krissen?"

"I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Jedrick Roseclayne," Kris replied, carefully hiding her shock. She must be slipping from her merc days--back then, no one could sneak up on her.

"Oh, come on, my beautiful lady," he said, throwing his arms around her from the back. He looked at her from around her shoulder. "You’ve got me curious now--I knew there was something going on since I met you."

"Get off," Kris told him, shaking him off her shoulders. She resumed packing up her horse, ignoring the bard’s prescence.

"You’re not really a minstrel, are you?" Jedrick continued irrepressibly.

"No, I’m a swordswoman, and I’m quite prepared to run you through if you refuse to leave me alone."

"You wouldn’t do that. How would you get rid of my body?"

"You’re right," Kris said, pretending to be thoughtful. "But I’m sure I could find some use for my sword. Though, given your lifestyle, you might miss those parts of yourself if I removed them." She gave him her best bloodthirsty grin.

Jedrick blushed, then went white. He shrank away from her. "None of that, now," he said. "Honestly, Krissen, I just want to know what’s going on. You’re obviously up to something."

"I really don’t think it’s any of your concern, Jedrick. If you must know, my boyfriend’s gotten himself into a mess and I’m off to get him out of it. That’s it."

"If that were the whole story, you wouldn’t have waited so long to tell me," Jed persisted.

"I can’t be slowed down anymore. You’re making me late as it is." Kris frowned. "If you want to know what’s going on, there should be a camp of Tortallan warriors about a day back on the road. Tell them Krissen sent you, and ask to speak to Hacia Fischer. She’ll tell you what this is all about." She drew about an inch of blade. "Unless you want to try and get it out of me?" she asked. The color drained from his face again.

"I think I’d rather hear it from Hacia, thank you," he gulped.

"Good. So do that." She put the sword back in its sheath. "So long, then," Kris told the minstrel, leading her horse out of the stable.