The Omen Machine. Terry Goodkind

of the concussion exploded through the confined space of the banquet hall.

      The impact to the air raced outward in a circle.

      People near the front cried out in pain as they tumbled backward to the ground. Those farther away in the rear were knocked back a few steps. In shock and fear they too late protectively covered their faces with an arm.

      Food flew off tables and carts; glasses and plates shattered against the walls; wine bottles, cutlery, containers, small serving bowls, napkins, and fragments of glass were blown back by the shock wave sweeping across the room at lightning speed. When it hit the far end of the room the glass in all the windows blew out. The bottoms of curtains flapped out through the shattered windows. Knives, forks, food, drink, plates, and pieces of broken glass clattered across the floor.

      Richard was by far the one closest to Kahlan as she had unleashed her Confessor power. Too close. Proximity to such power being loosed was dangerous. The pain of it seared through every joint in his body, dropping him to a knee. Zedd fell back, knocked from his feet. Nathan, a little farther away, staggered back, catching Cara’s arm to steady her.

      When pieces of shattered glass finally stopped skipping across the floor, the tablecloths and curtains finally settled and stilled, and people sat up in stunned silence, the woman in bloody blue robes was kneeling at the Mother Confessor’s feet.

      Kahlan stood tall at the center of the settling chaos.

      People stared in shock. None of them had ever seen a Confessor unleash her power before. It was not something done before spectators. Richard doubted that any of them would ever forget it as long as they lived.

      “Bags, that hurts,” Zedd muttered as he sat up rubbing his elbows and rolling his shoulders.

      As Richard’s vision and mind cleared from the needle-sharp stab of pain that had instantly stitched its way through every joint in his body, he saw that the woman had left a bloody handprint on the sleeve of Kahlan’s white dress.

      Kneeling there before the Mother Confessor, the woman didn’t look at all like an assassin. She was of average build with small features. Limp ringlets of dark hair just touched her shoulders. Richard knew that a person touched by a Confessor’s power didn’t feel the same pain as those nearby, but, more than that, things such as pain would be merely distant considerations to her. Once touched by a Confessor, the Confessor was all.

      Whoever the woman had been, she was no more.

      “Mistress,” the woman whispered, “command me.”

      Kahlan’s voice came as cold as ice. “Tell me again what you have done, what you said to me before.”

      “I’ve killed my children,” the woman said in a dispassionate voice. “I thought you should know.”

      The words cut through the somber silence, running a shiver up many a spine, Richard was sure. Some people gasped.

      “That’s why you came to me?”

      The woman nodded. “Partly. I had to tell you what I had done.” A tear ran down her cheek. “And what I had to do.”

      With her mind and who she had been now gone, Richard knew that her tears were not for killing her children, but for having intended to kill Kahlan. The Confessor who had touched her was now the only thing that mattered to her. The guilt of her intent now crushed her soul.

      Richard bent and carefully took hold of the woman’s right wrist as he pulled the bloody knife from her grip. Disarming her was no longer necessary, but it still made him feel better. She didn’t seem to notice.

      “Why would you do such a thing?” Kahlan asked in a commanding tone that stilled everyone’s breath for a moment.

      The woman’s face turned up to Kahlan. “I had to. I didn’t want them to face the terror of it.”

      “The terror of what?”

      “Of being eaten alive, Mistress,” the woman said, as if it was obvious.

      All around guards eased in closer. Several Mord-Sith who had tried to stop the woman, but hadn’t been able to make it in time, now slipped up behind the woman. Each of them had her Agiel in her fist.

      Kahlan had no need of guards or Mord-Sith and had no fear of a mere knife from a single attacker. Once touched by her power, a person was helplessly devoted to the Confessor and incapable of disobeying her, much less harming her. Their only concern was to please her. That included confessing any crime they were guilty of if Kahlan asked.

      “What are you talking about?”

      The woman blinked. “I couldn’t let them suffer what’s to come. I did them a mercy, Mistress, and killed them swiftly.”

      Nathan leaned close to Richard and whispered, “This is the woman I told you about, the one who works in the kitchens. She has a small amount of talent to see the future.”

      Kahlan leaned down toward the woman, causing her to shrink back. “How could you know what they would suffer?”

      “I had a vision, Mistress. I have visions sometimes. I had a vision and I saw what was going to happen if they lived. Don’t you see? I couldn’t let such a gruesome thing happen to my babies.”

      “Are you telling me that you had a vision that told you to kill your own children?”

      “No,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I had a vision of them being eaten alive, of fangs ripping and tearing at them as they screamed in terror and pain. The vision didn’t tell me to kill them, but after what I saw I knew what I had to do lest they suffer such a horrific fate. I was doing them a mercy, Mistress, I swear.”

      “What are you talking about, eaten alive? Eaten alive by what?”

      “Dark things, Mistress. Dark things come for my babies. Dark things, feral things, coming in the night.”

      “So you had a vision and because of that you decided to kill them yourself.”

      It was a charge, not a question. Nonetheless, the woman thought it was and nodded, eager to please her mistress.

      “Yes. I slit their throats. They bled out and lost consciousness quickly as they faded gently into death. They did not have to suffer what fate would have had them suffer.”

      “Faded gently?” Kahlan asked through gritted teeth and barely contained fury. “Are you trying to tell me that they didn’t suffer, didn’t struggle?”

      Richard had seen people’s throats cut, and so had Kahlan. They did not go gently into death by any means. They fought for their lives in terrifying, mortal pain, and as they fought for the breath of life they choked and drowned on their own blood. It was a horrifically violent death.

      The woman frowned a little as she tried to recall. “Yes, some, I guess. But not for long, Mistress. It was a brief struggle. Not as long as they would have struggled if they lived and the things in the night had come and gorged on their innards.”

      When Kahlan’s eyes turned up at the sound of worried whispers being exchanged, the crowd fell silent.

      “This is what happens when you think you can see into the future.” She clenched her jaw as she glared at the people watching. “This is the result— lives cut short.”

      Kahlan turned that glare back down to the woman at her feet. “You intended to use your knife on me, didn’t you? You intended to kill me.”

      “Yes, Mistress.” Tears sprang forth anew. “That’s why I had to tell you what I had done.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I had to tell you why I had killed my children so that you would understand why I must kill you. I meant to spare you, Mistress.”

      “Spare me? Spare me from what?”

      “The same fate, Mistress.” Tears began to run down her cheeks. “Please, Mistress. I cannot