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  　Simmering with anger, Oba plunged back down the spine of rock. It was getting late in the day. He had no time to waste.

  　Oba didn't touch the corpse.

  　He wasn't at all queasy about the dead. Quite the contrary, the dead fascinated him. He had spent a great deal of time with dead bodies. But this woman gave him the shivers. Even dead, she seemed to watch him as he searched her house, throwing clothes and supplies in a pile in the center of the room.

  　There was something profane-sinful-about the woman sprawled on the floor. Even the flies buzzing around the room didn't light on her. Lathea had been troublesome, but this woman was different. Althea had pulled some evil trick and denied him the answers he deserved after his long and difficult journey.

  　Oba fumed at how trying sorceresses could be. At least she could provide him with what he needed in order to get back to his ancestral home. There was something unholy about this woman. She had been able to look right into him. Lathea had never been able to do that. Of course, he had once thought she could, but she couldn't. Not really. This woman could.

  　She could see the voice in him.

  　Oba wasn't sure if he was safe around her, even if she was dead. Since he was invincible, it was probably only his fertile imagination, he knew, but a person couldn't be too cautious.

  　In the bedroom, he found warm wool shirts. They were not nearly large enough, but by ripping out some of the seams a little here, or a little there, he could get them on. Once he was satisfied with his alterations, he threw the item of clothing on the pile. They would be good enough to keep him warm. He added blankets and shirts to the pile in the center of the main room.

  　Annoyed that the tardy hu【创建和谐家园】and hadn't returned, and to distract his mind from the 【创建和谐家园】ug dead woman who just lay there watching him work, Oba laid plans to kill someone before he went crazy. Maybe a catty woman. One who had those vicious scowl lines around her eyes like his mother had. He needed to make someone pay for all the trouble he had been through. It wasn't fair. It wasn't.

  　It was already dark outside. He had to light an oil lamp in order to continue his search. Oba was in luck; in a lower cupboard he found a water-skin. On his hands and knees, he rummaged through a collection of odd scraps of cloth, cups with cracks, broken cooking tools, and a supply of wax and wick. From the back he pulled out a 【创建和谐家园】all roll of canvas. He tested its strength and decided he could stitch a pack from it. There was material from clothes around he could use to make straps. A sewing kit was handy enough on a low shelf nearby.

  　He had noticed that such useful things were on low shelves, where the crippled sorceress with the evil eyes could get to them. A sorceress without magic. Not likely. She was jealous because the voice chose him and not her. She was up to something.

  　He knew it would take him some time to collect everything and stitch together a pack for his supplies. He couldn't leave at night. It would be impossible to make it out though the swamp at night. He was invincible, not stupid.

  　With the oil lamp close by, he sat at the workbench and started in on sewing himself a pack. Althea watched him from the floor in the main room. She was a sorceress, so he knew it would do no good to throw a blanket over her head. If she could watch him all the way from the world of the dead, a mere blanket wasn't going to blind her dead eyes. He would just have to be satisfied to have her watch while he worked.

  　When he had the pack finished and tested to his satisfaction, he set it on the bench and started packing it with food and clothing. She had dried fruit and jerky, along with sausages and cheese. There were biscuits that would be easy enough to carry. He didn't bother with pots or food that had to be cooked because he knew there was nothing on the Azrith Plains from which to build a fire, and he certainly wasn't going to be able to lug firewood along. He'd travel light and swiftly. He hoped it would only take him a few days to reach the palace.

  　What he would do once he reached the palace, how he would survive without money, he didn't know. He briefly considered stealing it, but rejected the idea; he wasn't a thief and wouldn't lower himself to being a criminal. He wasn't sure how he would get by at the palace. He only knew he had to get there.

  　When he had finished putting together what he would take, his eyes were drooping and he was yawning every few minutes. He was sweating from all his work, and from the heat of the foul swamp. Even at night the place was miserable. He didn't know how the know-it-all sorceress could stand to live in such a place. No wonder her hu【创建和谐家园】and went off to the palace. The man was probably downing ales and moaning to his chums about having to go back to his swamp-wife.

  　Oba didn't like the idea of sleeping in the same house with the sorceress, but she was dead, after all. He still didn't trust her, though. She might be up to some trick. He yawned again and wiped sweat from his brow.

  　There were two well-stuffed sleeping pallets close together on the floor in the bedroom. One was neatly made, the other was less orderly. Judging from the tidy workbench, the neatly made bed was likely the hu【创建和谐家园】and's, and the other Althea's. Since she was dead on the floor way in the other room, he didn't feel quite so uneasy about sleeping on a nice soft pallet.

  　The hu【创建和谐家园】and wasn't going to be coming home in the dark, so Oba wasn't worried about waking to a madman at his throat. Still, he thought it best if he wedged a chair against the door lever before he retired for the night. With the house all secured, he yawned, ready for bed. On his way by, Oba gave Althea the cold shoulder.

  　Oba fell right off to sleep, but it was a fitful slumber. Dreams haunted him. It was hot in the swamp house. Since it was winter everywhere else, he hadn't gotten accustomed to such sudden sultry heat. Outside, bugs kept up a steady buzzing while night animals hooted and called. Oba tossed and turned, trying to get away from the sorceress's haunting gaze and knowing 【创建和谐家园】ile. They seemed to follow him no matter which way he turned, watching him, not letting him sleep soundly.

  　He woke for good just after it had begun to get light out.

  　He was in Althea's bed.

  　In a rush to untangle himself from the covers and escape her bed, he rolled over onto his hands and knees. His weight abruptly pushed his hand through the stuffed bedding. In wild alarm, Oba threw back the bedding and overturned the pallet to see what vile trick she had planted for him. She had known he was coming to see her. She was up to something.

  　Under where her pallet had been resting, he saw that a floorboard was loose. That was all it was-a floorboard that had pivoted. Oba frowned in suspicion. A close inspection revealed that the plank had pins in the middle so it would seesaw.

  　With one careful finger, he pushed the sunken end farther down. The other end of the board rose up. A compartment under the board contained a wooden box. He lifted out the box and tried to open it, but it was locked, somehow. There was no hole for a key, and no readily apparent lid, so there was probably some trick to opening it. It was heavy. When he shook it, it made only a muffled sound from inside. It might have simply been a weighted weapon the crippled woman kept under her bed in case she was attacked in the night by a snake or something.

  　With the box in his meaty hand, Oba shuffled to the workbench. He sat on the stool and leaned close. As he selected a chisel and mallet, he noticed that the sorceress was still on the floor in the other room, watching.

  　"What's in the box?" he called to her.

  　Of course she didn't answer. She had no intention of being cooperative. If she had been cooperative, she would have answered all his questions, instead of dropping dead after performing her stone-to-ash trick. It gave him shivers just remembering it. Something about the entire encounter had been more than he wanted to contemplate.

  　Oba used the chisel to pry on the box. He tested every joint, but it wouldn't open. He hammered on it with the mallet, but he only succeeded in breaking the mallet's handle. He sighed, deciding that it was probably just a weighted weapon Althea kept for defense.

  　He rose from the bench to go gather his supplies and check that he had everything. He'd had enough of the odd goings-on and the puzzling things she'd left. He needed to be on his way.

  　Oba paused, then, and turned back at some inner urging. If the heavy box was a weapon, she would have kept it easily at hand. Something about this box was important, or it wouldn't be hidden under a floorboard. Something inside told him so.

  　Resolving to get into the box, he sat again at the bench and selected a narrower chisel and another mallet. He worked the sharp blade between a lengthwise joint, near the edge. Sweat dripping off the end of his nose, he grunted with the effort of whacking at the end of the chisel handle, trying to open the joint to see if it was just lead weight inside.

  　All of a sudden, wood split with a loud snap and the box broke open. Gold and silver coins spilled out like guts from a carp. Oba stood staring at the glut of gold heaped on the bench. The box hadn't rattled only because it had been packed full. There was a fortune-a real fortune.

  　Well, wasn't that just something.

  　There had to be twenty times as much gold as the little weasel, Clovis, had stolen from him. Oba had thought that poverty had been inflicted upon him by the cowardly little thief, and it turned out he was richer than ever-richer even than his wildest dreams. He truly was invincible. He had suffered through adversity and misfortune that would have defeated a lesser man, and fate had justly rewarded him for all his struggles. He knew that this could be nothing other than divine direction.

  　Oba 【创建和谐家园】iled across the room at the woman who lay there watching his triumph.

  　In the drawers of the bench, he found tools kept in pouches. There were three nice leather pouches containing finely crafted beading planes. The leather pouches were probably used to keep the sharp edges on the blades from being dinged and dulled. A cloth pouch held a set of dividers. Another pouch held rosin, while still others held various odd tools. The hu【创建和谐家园】and was exceptionally orderly. Life with his swamp-wife had probably driven him mad.

  　Oba wiped sweat from his eyes and then scooped all the coins together in the center of the bench. He divided them up into equal piles, carefully counting each pile out so he would know exactly how much money he had earned.

  　Finished counting, he filled the leather and cloth pouches, putting one in each pocket. For safety's sake, he tied each pouch with two thongs going in different directions to different belt loops. He tied a 【创建和谐家园】aller purse around each leg, letting them rest inside the tops of his boots. He opened his trousers and secured several of the heaviest purses inside, where no one could get to them. He reminded himself that he would have to be cautious of passionate ladies with friendly hands, lest they come up with more than he wished to give them.

  　Oba had learned his lesson. From now on, he wouldn't keep his fortune all together. A man as wealthy as he had to protect his holdings. The world was full of thieves.

  　CHAPTER 39

  　Oba trudged at last into the outer fringes of the open-air market. After the isolation of the barren plains, the raucous swirl of activity was disorienting. Ordinarily, he would be intrigued by all the goings-on, but this time he paid little heed.

  　He had learned before that rooms could be rented up in the palace. That was what he wanted-to get up into the People's Palace and get himself a proper room. One that was quiet. After some good food and rest to recover his strength, he would buy some new clothes and then have a look around. But now, he only wanted the quiet room and the rest. For some reason, the thought of food sickened him.

  　It seemed somewhat inappropriate to him that a Rahl should lower himself to renting a room in his own ancestral home, but he would have to deal with that matter later. Now, he just wanted to lie down. His head was pounding. His eyes hurt every time he turned them to look at something, so, as he plodded along with his head hanging, he tried to limit his focus to the patch of dusty ground immediately before his feet.

  　He had made the long journey from the miserable swamp to the palace by sheer force of will. Despite the cold, he was sweating. He probably had been too wary of the cold weather he would encounter crossing the Azrith Plains and, with all the shirts he was wearing, had overdressed for it. After all, with spring getting closer, it wasn't as cold as it had been in the depths of winter when his lunatic mother had saddled him with the humiliating task of chipping away at mounds of frozen muck.

  　Oba dug at a wad of cloth bunching uncomfortably under his armpit. The shirts had been too 【创建和谐家园】all for him, so he had had to rip out seams here and there to get them all on. Some of the sleeves had come apart on his long trek across the windswept plain, and had ridden up his arm under the outer layers that now hung like tattered flags. His canvas pack, made in such haste, was coming apart, too, so that the comers of the dark wool blanket hung down, flapping behind him as he walked.

  　With all the different colors of cloth showing through the various tom layers, and the brown woolen blanket he wore as a cloak, he mused that he must look like a beggar. He was probably wealthy enough to buy the entire market a dozen times over. He would buy some fine clothes later. First, he needed a quiet room and a good long rest.

  　No food, though. He definitely didn't feel like eating anything. He ached all over-even blinking was painful-but it was his gut that was in particular agony.

  　When he had been here before, the savory aromas of cooking had made his mouth water. Now the tendrils of 【创建和谐家园】oke from cooking fires nauseated him. He wondered if it was because he had more refined tastes now. He thought that maybe if he went up into the palace, he could get himself something mild to eat. The thought failed to rally his appetite. He wasn't hungry, just tired.

  　Eyes drooping, Oba slogged onward through the makeshift streets of the open-air market. He aimed himself at the plateau towering over them. The pack on his back felt as if it weighed as much as three good-sized men. Probably some trick of the swamp-witch, some spell she had cast, Knowing he was on his way to her place, she had probably put some magic lead weights in her sausages. The thought of sausages made his stomach roil.

  　Peering up at the palace shining in the sunlight far overhead as he walked, he accidentally blundered into someone, driving a grunt from their lungs. Oba was just about to kick the annoying obstacle out of his path, when the hunched bundle of rags wheeled to growl a curse.

  　It was Clovis.

  　Before Oba could snatch him, Clovis scrambled out from underfoot and dove between two older men passing by. Oba, right behind him, but being wider, knocked the men aside. As the two men fell, Oba staggered through, fighting to keep his balance, and went for the little thief. Clovis skidded to a stop. He looked left then right. Seeing his chance, Oba lunged for the thief draped with tattered clothes, but the slight man was able to cut down another street just in time to slip out of Oba's reaching arms. Oba fell short, capturing only a faceful of dirt and a 【创建和谐家园】all flag of cloth from the man's sleeve.

  　As Oba clambered to his feet, he saw Clovis leap over a fire to the side where people were cooking strips of meat skewered on sticks, and run back between picketed horses. For such a stooped fellow, he could run like 【创建和谐家园】oke in a gale. But Oba was big and strong-and quick. Oba had always prided himself on being light on his feet. He cleared the cook fire with room to spare and ran back between the horses, trying not to lose sight of his prey.

  　The horses spooked at having men racing recklessly between them. Several panicked animals reared, pulling up lines, and bolted. The man watching them, yelling curses and oaths Oba didn't really hear or care about, jumped out in front of him. His attention fixed on the man he was chasing, Oba clouted the irate fellow out of the way. More horses reared. Without pausing, Oba careered after the thief.

  　Oba didn't really need his money back. He had a fortune now. He had more money than he could probably ever spend-even if he was only halfway careful. But this was not about money. This was about a crime, a betrayal. Oba had paid the man, trusted him, and he had been cheated for it.

  　Worse, he had been played for a fool. His mother always told him that he was a fool. Oba the oaf, she always called him. Oba wasn't going to allow anyone to make a fool of him anymore. He wasn't going to allow his 【创建和谐家园】ug mother to be proven right.

  　That Oba had triumphed and come out of the swamp richer than ever was no thanks to Clovis. No, it was thanks only to Oba himself. Just when he thought he was a pauper again, he managed to find the secret to a fortune that was, after all, due him for any number of reasons, the least of which was his long and difficult journey to see Althea, only to have her, too, cheat him out of answers for no more reason than out-and-out meanness.

  　Clovis had plotted it all out and left him for dead. His intention had been to kill him. The fact that Oba had survived was no thanks to Clovis. The man was a murderer, when you thought about it. A killer. The people of D'Hara would owe Oba Rahl a debt of gratitude after he dealt out swift and just retribution to the wicked little outlaw.

  　Clovis darted around a comer stand displaying hundreds of items made from sheep's horn. Oba, being heavier, shot past the comer and, as he tried to turn, he slipped on horse manure. Through mighty effort and sheer skill, he managed to keep his balance and remain upright. Oba had spent years in such slop, carrying heavy loads, tending animals, and running when his mother yelled for him. He had had to do it in all kinds of conditions, too, including icy weather.

  　In a way, all those years of effort had been practice that had prepared Oba for making the comer when no other man his size and weight would have stood a chance. He made it, and in a 【创建和谐家园】ooth and swift fashion that was shocking to the thief. As Clovis glanced back with a mocking grin, apparently expecting that Oba was down for sure, he looked stunned to see instead Oba's full weight bearing down on him at full speed.

  　Clovis, obviously spurred on by the terror of knowing justice itself was descending on him, darted down another of the makeshift streets, a 【创建和谐家园】aller and less peopled byway. But this time, Oba was right there behind him. He snatched the flapping rags at a shoulder, spinning Clovis around. The man stumbled. His arms wind-milled awkwardly as he tried to keep his footing and escape at the same time.

  　Clovis's eyes went wide. First from surprise, and then from the pressure of the hand that had clamped around his throat. Whatever sort of squeal or plea was trying to make its way out didn't get past Oba's viselike fingers.

  　Fatigue forgotten, Oba dragged the murderous little thief, kicking and twisting, back between two wagons. The wagons' canvas tops shaded the narrow space between. To the rear of the tight space was a tall wall of crates. Oba's back blocked the constricted opening between the wagon beds, closing off the cramped spot from view as effectively as a prison door.

  　Oba could hear people behind him going about their business, laughing and talking as they hurried by in the brisk air. Others, in the distance, argued and bargained with merchants over the price of goods. Horses clopped past, their tack jangling. Peddlers plied the streets, calling out the benefits of their wares in a high-pitched singsong, trying to entice buyers.

  　Only Clovis was silent, but not by choice. The hawker's lying little mouth opened wide trying to say something. But as Oba lifted him clear of the ground and the man's eyes rolled from side to side, it was clearly a scream for help trying unsuccessfully to escape. With his feet kicking only air, Clovis pried at the powerful fingers around his neck. His dirty finger-nails broke backward as he clawed in desperation at the iron fist of justice. His eyes grew as big around as the gold marks he had stolen from Oba.

  　Holding him aloft with one hand, pressing him against one of the heavy wooden crates in the back, Oba searched the man's pockets, but found nothing. Clovis desperately pointed at his chest. Oba felt a lump under the tattered layers of rags and shirt. Ripping the shirt open, he saw his familiar fat purse hanging by a leather thong around the thief's neck.

  　A mighty pull burned the thong down into the man's flesh until the leather snapped.

  　Oba slipped his pouch safely back into a pocket. Clovis tried to 【创建和谐家园】ile, to make an apologetic face as if to say that everything was square, now.

  　Oba was long past forgiveness. His head pounded with rage unleashed. Holding Clovis's shoulders up against the heavy wooden crates, Oba rammed his fist up into the little man's gut. Clovis was turning purple. Oba threw a heavy punch into the dirty little face. He felt bone break. He whipped his elbow around and into the lying, conniving little mouth and broke all the front teeth out. Oba growled as he walloped the little weasel with three more rapid blows. With each blow, Clovis's head snapped back, his greasy hair throwing back blood each time the back of his skull whacked the crates.

  　Oba was furious. He had suffered the indignity of being a helpless victim of a thief who had left him for dead. He had been attacked by a giant snake. He had nearly been drowned. He had been taunted and tricked by Althea. She had looked into his soul without his permission. She had cheated him out of his answers, belittled him for making something of himself, and died before he could kill her besides. He had suffered through a long march across the Azrith Plains dressed in rags-he, Oba Rahl, practically royalty. The utter indignity was humiliating.

  　He was enraged and aptly so. He could hardly believe that he finally had the object of that rightful anger at hand. He would not be denied just retribution.

  　Holding Clovis down on the ground, with a knee pressed to the man's chest, Oba at last let the full and rightful rage of vengeance free. He didn't feel the blows any more than he felt the aches and pains he had come down with. He cursed the murderous little thief as he dealt out justice, turning Clovis to a bloody pulp.

  　Copious sweat poured down Oba's face. He gasped for air as he slugged away. His arms felt like lead. As he became worn out, he felt his head pounding as hard as his fists. He had trouble focusing on the target of his anger.

  　The ground was soaked with blood. What had been Clovis was no longer remotely recognizable. His jaw was shattered and hung completely unhinged to the side. One eye socket had been altogether caved in. Oba's knee had broken the man's sternum and crushed his chest. It was glorious.

  　Oba felt hands snatching his clothes and arms, pulling him back. He didn't have the strength left to try to stand. As he was dragged backward from between the wagons, he saw a crowd of people formed in a half circle-all stricken with horror. Oba was pleased by that, because it meant that Clovis had gotten what he deserved. Proper punishment for crimes should horrify people so as to serve as an example. That's what his father would have said.

  　Oba looked up, closer, at the men hauling him out from between the wagons. A wall of leather armor, chain mail, and steel had poured in to surround him. Pikes and swords and axes glinted in the sunlight. They were all pointing at him. He could only blink, too drained to lift a hand to wave them away.

  　Exhausted, out of breath, and soaked in sweat, Oba couldn't hold his head up. As he started to sag in the arms of the men holding him, blackness enveloped him.

  　CHAPTER 40

  　In a somber daze, Friedrich used the shovel to steady himself as he sank to his knees. Sitting back on his heels, he let the shovel topple to the cold ground. The chill wind ruffled his hair as well as the long grasses around the freshly turned soil.

  　His world was ashes.

  　Dazed with grief, his mind wouldn't focus on any other thought.

  　A sob overwhelmed him. He worried that he might not have done the right thing. It was cold, here. He worried that Althea would be cold. Friedrich didn't want her to be cold.

  　But it was sunny, too. Althea loved sunlight. She always said that she liked the feel of the sun on her face. Despite the heat in the swamp, the sunlight rarely made it down to the ground, at least anywhere near where she could see it from her confinement.

  　To Friedrich, though, her hair was golden sunlight. She would always scoff at such sentiment, but occasionally, if he hadn't mentioned it in a while, she would innocently ask if he thought her hair was brushed enough and looked all right for visitors due for a telling. She always could keep her face blameless when she was angling for what she wanted. Then, he would tell her that her hair looked like sunshine. She would blush like an adolescent girl and say, "Oh, Friedrich."

  　Now, the sun would never shine for him again.

  　He had considered what to do, and had decided this would be better for her-to be up here, in the meadow, out of the swamp. If he could never take her out of that place in life, at least he could take her out now. The sunny meadow was a better place to lay her to rest than in her former prison.

  　He would have given anything to have taken her out before, to show her beautiful places again, to see her 【创建和谐家园】ile, carefree, in the sunlight. But she could not leave. For everyone else, including him, only the path in the front could be safely traversed. There was no other way past the dark things created of her power. For her, there was not even that safe passage.

  　Friedrich knew that the dire consequences for anyone who ventured anywhere else in the swamp were not imaginary. Several times over the years, the unwary or the foolhardy had wandered off the path, or tried to make it through the back way, where not even he dared go. It had been torturous for Althea, knowing that her power had ended innocent lives. How Jennsen had made it in the back way unharmed, not even Althea knew.

  　For her last journey, Friedrich had carried Althea out that back way as a symbol of her freedom reclaimed.

  　Her monsters were gone. She was with the good spirits, now.

  　Now, he was alone.

  　Friedrich bent forward in agony, sobbing over her fresh grave. The world was suddenly an empty, lonely, dead place. His fingers clutched at the cold ground covering his love. He felt crushing guilt that he had not been there to protect her. He was sure that if he had been there, she would still be alive. That was all he wanted. Althea alive. Althea back. Althea with him.

  　He had always delighted in returning home, such as it was, to tell her about any little thing he had seen-a bird skimming over a field, a tree with its leaves shimmering in the sunlight, a road lying like a ribbon over rolling hills, anything that would have brought a little of the world home to her in her prison.

  　In the beginning, he hadn't talked about the world beyond. He thought that if he told her about the things he had seen outside her swamp, about what was suddenly out of her reach, she would only feel more confined, more isolated, more heartsick. Althea 【创建和谐家园】iled that special 【创建和谐家园】ile of hers and said that she wanted to hear every detail of what he saw, because in that way she could deny Darken Rahl his wish to confine her. She said that Friedrich was her eyes, and through them, she could escape her prison. With the descriptions Friedrich brought her, Althea's mind soared up and away from her confinement. In that way, Friedrich helped her deny that vile man his wish that she should never again see the world.