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  　"Be quiet," Brogan snapped. "If they try to stop us, you had better get us through. Understand?"

  　"If there be many, I can only—"

  　"Don't test me, Lunetta. You said you would do better. I'm giving you that chance. Don't fail me again."

  　She pulled her pretties close. "Yes, Lord General."

  　Brogan blew out the lamp just inside the hall and then pulled Lunetta through the doorway out into the blizzard, wading with her into the drifts. Galtero would have the horses saddled by now. They had only to make it to the horses. In this snow, the D'Harans wouldn't have time to see them coming or to stop them once they were on horseback. The dark rise of the stable buildings drew closer.

  　Out of the snow, shapes began appearing—soldiers. When they saw him they called out to their fellows and at the same time drew steel. Their voices didn't cany far in the howling wind, but they carried enough to collect a swarm of big men.

  　They were all around. "Lunetta, do something."

  　She cocked an arm with fingers clawed as she began summoning a spell, but the men didn't hesitate. They ran forward with weapons raised. He flinched as an arrow zip past his cheek. The Creator had provided a gust of wind that carried the shaft wide, sparing him. Lunetta ducked as arrows ripped past.

  　Seeing men rushing toward him from all directions, Tobias drew his sword. He thought to make it back to the palace, but that way, too, was blocked. There were too many. Lunetta was so busy trying to ward off the arrows that she couldn't call a spell to protect them. She squealed in fright.

  　Just as suddenly as the arrows had started, they stopped. Tobias heard screams carried on the wind. He snatched Lunetta's arm and sprang through the deep drifts, hoping to make the stables. Galtero would be there.

  　Several men moved to block him. The one closest cried out as as shadow passed in front of him. The man tumbled face-first into the snow. Tobias watched in confusion as the other men began swinging swords at the gusts of wind.

  　The wind cut them down without mercy.

  　Tobias stumbled to a halt, blinking at what he was seeing. D'Harans all around him were dropping, Shrieks lifted on the howling wind. He saw snow stained red. He saw men fall in their tracks, spilling their guts.

  　Tobias licked his lips, afraid to move lest the wind take him, too. His gaze darted in every direction as he tried to make sense of what was happening, tried to see the attackers.

  　"Dear Creator," he called out, "spare me! I do your work!"

  　Men were converging on the stable yard from every direction, and they were being brought down as fast as they came. Well over a hundred corpses already littered the snowy field. He had never seen men slain with such speed or brutality.

  　Tobias crouched down, and was startled to realize that the twirling gusts were moving deliberately.

  　They were alive. He began to make them out. White-caped men slipped all around him, attacking the D'Haran soldiers with swift and deadly grace. Not one of the D'Harans tried to flee; they all came on fiercely, but none managed to engage the enemy before they were quickly dispatched,

  　The night fell silent but for the wind. Before there was time to run, it was over. The ground was cluttered with a jumble of still, dark shapes. Tobias turned all about, but saw none left alive. Already, the snow was beginning to drift over the bodies. In another hour they would vanish under the white fury.

  　The caped men skimmed fluidly through the snow, graceful and slithery, moving as if they were made of wind. As they came toward him, his sword slipped from his numb fingers. Tobias wanted to call out to Lunetta to strike them down with a spell, but as they came into the light, his voice failed him.

  　They were not men.

  　Scales the color of the snowy night undulated over rippling muscles. 【创建和谐家园】ooth skin sheathed earless, hairless, blunt heads set with beady eyes. The beasts wore only simple hide clothes beneath capes that billowed and flapped in the wind, and in each clawed hand they gripped blood-slicked three-bladed knives.

  　They were the creatures he had seen impaled on the poles outside the Confessors' Palace—the creatures Lord Rahl had killed: mriswith. Having seen them slaughter all these experienced soldiers, Tobias couldn't imagine how Lord Rahl, or anyone, could have bested one, much less the number he had seen.

  　One of the creatures skulked toward him, watching with unblinking eyes. It glided to a stop, not ten feet away.

  　"Leave," the mriswith hissed.

  　"What?" Tobias stammered.

  　"Leave." It slashed the air with its clawlike knife, a quick gesture, graceful with murderous mastery. "Esssscape."

  　"Why? Why would you do this? Why do you want us to escape?"

  　The lipless mouth slit widened, mimicking a gruesome grin. "The dreamssss walker wants you to esssscape. Go now, before more skin walkerssss come. Go."

  　"But..."

  　With a scaled arm, the mriswith drew its cape against the wind, turned, and vanished into the blowing snow. Tobias peered into the night, but the wind had gone vacant and lifeless.

  　Why would such vile creatures want to help him? Why would they kill his enemies? Why would they want him to escape?

  　Comprehension came over him in a loving, warm rush. The Creator had sent them, of course. How could he have been so blind? Lord Rahl had said he killed the mriswith. Lord Rahl fought for the Keeper. If the mriswith were evil creatures Lord Rahl would fight on their side, not against them.

  　The mriswith had said the dream walker sent them. The Creator came to Tobias in his dreams. That had to be it; the Creator had sent them,

  　"Lunetta." Tobias turned to her. She was cowering behind him. "The Creator comes to me in my dreams. That was what they were trying to tell me when they

  　said the one from my dreams had sent them. Lunetta, the Creator sent them to help

  　protect me."

  　Lunetta's eyes widened. "The Creator Himself has intervened on your behalf to thwart the Keeper's plans. The Creator Himself watches over you. He must have great things planned for you, Tobias,"

  　Tobias retrieved his sword from under the snow and straightened with a 【创建和谐家园】ile. "Indeed. I have kept His wishes above all else, and so He has protected me. Hurry, we must do as His messengers have told us. We must be off to do the Creator's work."

  　As he trudged through the snow, winding his way among the bodies, he looked up to see a dark shape suddenly leap before him, blocking his path.

  　"Well, well, Lord General, going someplace?" A menacing grin came to the face. "Do you wish to cast a spell on me, sorceress?"

  　Tobias still had his sword in his hand, but he knew he wouldn't be quick enough.

  　He flinched at the sound of a bone-jarring thunk. The one before him pitched face-first into the snow at his feet. Tobias looked up to see Galtero standing with the cudgel above the unconscious figure.

  　"Galtero, you have earned your rank this night."

  　The Creator had just given him a priceless prize, showing him, again, that nothing was out of the reach of the pious. Thankfully, Galtero had the presence of mind to use the cudgel, and not a blade.

  　He saw blood from the blow, but he saw the breath of life, too. "My, my, but this be turning out to be quite the good night. Lunetla, you have some work to do on behalf of the Creator before you heal this one."

  　Lunetta bent beside the still form, pressing her fingers into the blood-matted, wavy, brown hair. "Perhaps I ought to do a healing first. Galtero be stronger than he thinks."

  　' "That, my dear sister, would not be advisable, at least not from what I have heard. The healing can wait." He glanced to his colonel and gestured to the stables. "Are the horses ready?"

  　"Yes, Lord General, as soon as you are."

  　Tobias drew the knife Galtero had given him. "We must hurry, Lunetta. The messenger told us we must escape." He squatted down and rolled the unconscious figure over. "And then we be off after the Mother Confessor."

  　Lunetta leaned close, peering at him.”But Lord General, I told you, the wizard's web hides her identity from us. We cannot see the strands of a web like that. We will not know her."

  　A grin tightened the scar at the side of Tobias Brogan's mouth.

  　"Oh, but I have seen the strands of the web. The Mother Confessor's name be Kahlan Amnell."

  　CHAPTER 18

  　As she had feared, she was a prisoner. She flipped another page over after making the appropriate entry in the ledger book. A prisoner of the highest station, a prisoner behind a paper lock, but a prisoner nevertheless.

  　Verna yawned as she scanned the next page, checking the records of palace expenses. Each report required her approval and had to be initialed to show that the Prelate herself had certified the expenses. Why it was necessary was a mystery to her, but having only held the office for a few days she was loath to declare it a waste of her time, only to have Sister Leoma, or Dulcinia, or Philippa divert their eyes and explain under their breath, so as not to cause the Prelate embarras【创建和谐家园】ent, why it was indeed necessary, and go on in great detail to explicate the dire consequences of not doing such a simple thing that would require hardly any effort on her part, but would be of such benefit to others.

  　She could anticipate the reaction should she declare she was not going to bother to check the tallies: Why, Prelate, if the people didn't fear that the Prelate herself was concerned enough to be watching their work orders, they would be emboldened to gouge the palace. The Sisters would be thought wasteful fools without an ounce of sense. And then, on the other side, if the work orders weren 't paid while waiting the Prelate's directive, the poor workers' families would go hungry. You wouldn't want those children to go hungry, would you, simply because you didn't want to - pay them the courtesy of approving payment for their hard work already done? Just because you don't wish to glance at the report and go to the trouble of initialing it? Would you really want them to think the Prelate so callous?

  　Verna sighed as she skimmed the report of expenses for the stables: hay and grain, the farrier, the tack upkeep, replacement of lost tack, repair to the stable after a stallion staved in a stall, and repair needed after several horses apparently panicked in the night, broke down a fence, and bolted off into the countryside. She was going . to have to have a talk to the stable personnel and insist they keep better order under their roof. She jammed the pen in the ink bottle, sighed again, and initialed the bottom of the page.

  　As she turned the stable tallies over on top of the pile of other tallies she had already perused, initialed, and entered in the ledger, someone knocked softly at the door. She pulled another paper from the stack of reports yet to be worked, a lengthy reckoning from the butcher, and started scanning down the figures. She had had no idea how expensive it was to run the Palace of the Prophets.

  　The soft knock came again. Probably Sister Dulcinia or Phoebe wanting to bring in another stack of reports. She was not initialing as fast as they could bring them in. How did Prelate Annalina manage to get it all done? Vema hoped it wasn't

  　Sister Leoma, come again to bring to her attention news of some calamity the Prelate had caused by an unthinking action or comment. Maybe they would think her too busy and go away if she didn't answer.

  　Along with her old friend, Phoebe, Verna had named Sister Dulcinia to be one of her administrators. It only made sense to have a Sister of Dulcinia's experience at hand. It also allowed Verna to keep an eye on the woman. Dulcinia herself had requested the job, citing her "knowledge of palace business."

  　Having Sister Leoma and Philippa as "trusted advisors" was at least useful in keeping them in sight, too. She didn't trust them. For that matter, she didn't trust any of them; she couldn't afford to. Verna had to admit, though, that they had proven themselves willing advisors who always scrupulously kept the best interest of the Prelate and the palace uppermost in their advice. It vexed her that she could find no fault in their counsel.

  　The knock came again, polite, but insistent.

  　"Yes! What is it?"

  　The thick door opened enough to admit Warren's head of curly blond hair. He grinned when he saw the scowl on her face. Verna could see Dulcinia craning her neck to see past him, checking the Prelate1 s progress on the stacks of paper. Warren let himself the rest of the way in.

  　He peered about in the somber room, scrutinizing the work done on it. After the losing battle her predecessor had had with the Sisters of the Dark, the office had been left in ruins. A crew of workmen had hurriedly repaired it, putting it back to order as quickly as possible so that the new Prelate wouldn't be inconvenienced for long. Verna knew the cost; she had seen the expense tally.

  　Warren strolled up to the opposite side of the heavy walnut table. "Good evening, Verna. You look to be hard at work. Important palace business, I presume, to be up this late."

  　Her lips pressed into a thin line. Before she was able to launch into a tirade, Dulcinia took the opportunity, before closing the door behind the visitor, to poke her head in.

  　"I've just finished ordering the day's reports, Prelate. Would you like to have them now? You must be near to finished with the others."

  　Verna flashed a villainous grin as she crooked her finger at her aide. Sister Dulcinia flinched at the 【创建和谐家园】irk. Her penetrating blue eyes swept the room, lingering on Warren, before she entered, brushing back her gray hair in a submissive gesture.

  　"May I be of assistance, Prelate?"

  　Verna folded her hands on the table. * 'Why, yes, Sister, you may. Your experience would be valuable in this matter." Verna lifted a report off the pile. "I would like you to immediately go on an mission to the stables. It seems we have trouble there, and a bit of a mystery."

  　Sister Dulcinia brightened. "Trouble, Prelate?"

  　"Yes. It would seem there are some horses missing."

  　Sister Dulcinia leaned forward a bit, lowering her voice in that tolerant manner of hers. “If I remember the report you speak of, Prelate, the horses were frightened by something in the night and bolted. They've simply not turned up yet, that's all."

  　"I know that, Sister. I would like Master Finch to explain how it is that horses that broke down his fence were able to run off, and not be found."

  　"Prelate?"

  　Verna lifted her eyebrows in mock wonder. “We live on an island, do we not? How is it that the horses are no longer on the island? No guard saw them gallop across a bridge. At least I've seen no report of it. This time of year the fishermen are out on the river day and night, eeling, yet none saw any horses swimming to the mainland. So where are they?"

  　"Well, I'm sure they simply bolted, Prelate. Perhaps ..."

  　Verna 【创建和谐家园】iled indulgently. "Perhaps Master Finch sold them, and just said they ran off in order to cover their loss."

  　Sister Dulcinia straightened. "Surely, Prelate, you would not want to accuse—"

  　Verna slapped a hand to the table and shot to her feet. "Tack is also missing. Did the tack also bolt in the night! Or did the horses decide to put it on themselves and go for a jaunt!"

  　Sister Dulcinia blanched. "I ... well, I ... I'll see—"

  　"You go down to the stables right now and tell Master Finch that if he doesn't find the palace's horses by the time I decide to inquire of the matter again, their cost will come out of his pay and the tack out of his hide!"

  　Sister Dulcinia bobbed a quick bow and scurried from the room. When the door banged closed, Warren chuckled.

  　"Seems you're falling right into the job, Verna."

  　"Don't you start with me, Warren!"

  　The grin left his face. “Verna, calm down. It's just a couple of horses. The man will find them. It's not worth you getting yourself in a state of tears over."

  　Verna blinked at him. She touched her fingers to her cheek and felt that they were indeed wet. She let out a tired groan and flopped down in her chair.

  　"I'm sorry, Warren. I don't know what's come over me. I guess I'm just tired and frustrated."

  　"Verna, I've never seen you like this, letting a matter like some silly pieces of paper get you so worked up.''

  　"Warren, look at this!" She snatched up the report. "I'm a prisoner in here, approving the cost of hauling away manure! Do you have any idea how much manure those horses produce? Or how much food they eat, just to make all that manure?"

  　"Well, no, I guess I would have to admit that ..."

  　She pulled the next report off the stack. "Butter—"

  　"Butter?"

  　"Yes, butter." Verna scanned the report. "Seems it went rancid and we had to buy ten peck to replace it. I'm to consider this and determine if the dairyman has asked a fair price and is to be retained in the future."