The Omen Machine. Terry Goodkind

than she had intended, as if they surprised her. She looked abruptly speechless.

      Kahlan and some of the soldiers waiting not far away glanced up at the ceiling that had covered the palace for thousands of years. It hardly looked in danger of falling in.

      A strange fortune, Richard thought, but the fortune had not been his real purpose. “And I predict that you will have a full belly when you sleep tonight. The shop not far back, to your left, sells warm meals. That penny will buy you one. Take good care of yourself, my lady, and enjoy your visit to the palace.”

      The woman’s smile returned, but this time it reflected gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”

      Rikka, one of the Mord-Sith, rushed up and came to a halt. She flicked her single, long blond braid back over her shoulder. He was so used to the Mord-Sith wearing their red leather outfits that he found it somewhat strange to see them now wearing brown leather, another sign that the long war was over. Notwithstanding the less intimidating outfit, there was suspicious displeasure in her blue eyes. That, coming from a Mord-Sith, he was more than used to.

      A dark look had settled into Rikka’s flawless features. “I see that the word I received is true. You’re bleeding. What happened?”

      Rikka’s tone reflected not simple concern, but a Mord-Sith’s rising anger that the Lord Rahl she was sworn on her life to protect appeared to have run into trouble. She was not simply curious, she was demanding answers.

      “It’s nothing. And it’s not bleeding any longer. It’s just a scratch.”

      Rikka cast a dissatisfied look at Kahlan’s hand. “Do you two have to do everything together? I knew we shouldn’t have let you go out without one of us to watch over you. Cara will be furious, and with good reason.”

      Kahlan smiled, apparently to dispel Rikka’s concern. “Like Richard said, it’s just a scratch. And I don’t think that Cara has reason to be anything other than contented and happy today.”

      Rikka let the claim go without objection and turned to other business. “Zedd wants to see you, Lord Rahl. He sent me to find you.”

      “Lord Rahl!” The woman at his feet clutched at his pant leg. “Dear spirits, I didn’t realize … I’m sorry, Lord Rahl. Forgive me. I didn’t know who you were or I would not have—”

      Richard touched his fingers to the woman’s shoulder to cut off her apology and let her know that it wasn’t necessary.

      He turned to the Mord-Sith. “Did my grandfather say what he wants?”

      “No, but by his tone it was clear to me that it was important to him. You know Zedd and how he gets.”

      Kahlan smiled a bit. Richard knew all too well what Rikka meant. While Cara had for years been close to Richard and Kahlan, ever watchful and protective of them, Rikka had spent a great deal of time with Zedd at the Wizard’s Keep. She had become familiar with how Zedd frequently thought the simplest things were urgent. Richard thought that Rikka, in her own way, had taken a liking to Zedd and felt protective of him. He was, after all, still First Wizard as well as the grandfather to the Lord Rahl. Even more important, she knew how much Richard cared about him.

      “All right, Rikka. Let’s go see what Zedd is all wound up about.”

      He started to take a step, but the old woman sitting on the floor tugged his pant leg to stop him.

      “Lord Rahl,” she said, trying to pull him closer, “I would not ask for payment from you, especially since I am but a humble guest in your home. Please, take your silver back with my appreciation for the gesture.”

      “It was a bargain struck,” Richard said in a tone meant to reassure her. “You held up your part. I owe you payment for your words about the future.”

      She let her hand slip from its grip of his pants. “Then heed the omen, Lord Rahl, for it is true.”

      CHAPTER 3

      Following Rikka deep into the private, warmly paneled corridors of the palace, Kahlan spotted Zedd standing with Cara and Benjamin at a window overlooking a small courtyard at the bottom of a deep pocket formed by the stone walls of the palace that rose up out of sight. A simple, unadorned door not far beyond the window provided access to an atrium where a small plum tree grew beside a wooden bench sitting on a stone pad surrounded by lush green ivy. As small as the room was, it still brought a welcome bit of the outdoors and daylight into the deep interior of the palace.

      Kahlan was relieved to be away from the public corridors, away from the constant gazes that were always on them. She felt a profound sense of calm as Richard slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close for a moment. He laid his head atop hers as she leaned in toward him. It was a moment of closeness that they didn’t generally feel comfortable allowing themselves when in public view.

      Cara, wearing her white leather outfit, stood gazing out the window into the courtyard. Her single blond braid was perfectly done. Her red Agiel, the weapon carried by Mord-Sith that always hung at the ready by a fine chain on their wrists, stood out against the white leather like a bloodstain on a snow white tablecloth. An Agiel, looking like nothing more than a short leather rod, was just as lethal as the women who carried them.

      Benjamin had on a crisp general’s uniform and wore a gleaming silver sword at his hip. The sword was no ceremonial accessory. Countless times Kahlan had seen how commanding he was in combat, seen his heart. She had been the one who had appointed him a general.

      Kahlan had expected that Cara and Benjamin might be dressed casually. They were not. They both looked ready for the war that was over. She supposed that as far as both of them were concerned, there was never an excuse to relax their guard. Both their lives were devoted to the protection of Richard, the Lord Rahl.

      Of course, the man they guarded was far more lethal than either of them. Dressed in his black and gold war-wizard outfit, Richard looked every bit the part of the Lord Rahl. But he was more than that. At his hip he wore the Sword of Truth, a singular weapon meant for a singular individual. Yet despite the weapon’s power, it was the individual behind it that was the true weapon. That was what really made him the Seeker, and what made the Seeker so formidable.

      “Were they watching all night?” Zedd was asking as Kahlan and Richard came to a halt beside Richard’s grandfather.

      Cara’s face turned nearly as red as her Agiel.

      “I don’t know,” she growled, still glaring out the window. “It was my wedding night and I was otherwise occupied.”

      Zedd smiled politely. “Of course.”

      He glanced over at Richard and Kahlan to greet them with a brief smile. Kahlan thought that the smile looked a bit briefer than she would have expected.

      Before his grandfather could say anything else, Richard interrupted. “Cara, what’s going on?”

      She turned to him with a heated look. “Someone was watching us in our room.”

      “Watching you,” he repeated in a flat tone. “You’re sure?”

      Richard’s face didn’t reveal what he might be thinking about such a strange claim. Kahlan noted that he did not dismiss Cara’s assertion out of hand. Kahlan also noted that Cara hadn’t said that it felt like they were being watched. She said that they were being watched. Cara was hardly a woman given to skittish delusions.

      “It was an eventful day yesterday, with a lot of people gathered for your wedding, with a lot of people all watching you and Benjamin.” Richard gestured toward Kahlan. “Even now, as much as I’ve gotten used to people watching Kahlan and me all the time, when we’re finally alone I sometimes can’t shake the feeling people are still staring at me.”

      “People watch Mord-Sith all the time,” Cara said, clearly not liking the implication that she was only imagining it.

      “Yes, but they watch out of the corner of their eye. People rarely look directly