Phantom: Chainfire Trilogy Part 2

"You," she said, pointing right between his eyes. "You I will kill first."

The men all snickered. She swept an appraising gaze over them and their weapons, learning what there was to learn.

She pointed at the man with the broken nose. "You die second, after him."

"What about us three?" one of the others asked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "What order will you kill us in?"

Kahlan shrugged. "You will know just before I cut your throat."

The men all laughed. Jagang didn't.

"You would be well advised to take her seriously," the emperor told them. "The last time she got her hands on a knife she killed my two most trusted bodyguards — men a lot better at soldiering than you — and a Sister of the Dark. All by herself, and all in a matter of a few brief moments."

The laughter died away.

"You all will stay on your toes," Jagang said in a low growl, "or I will gut you myself if I even think you are being inattentive to your duty. If she gets away under your watch, I will send you to the torture tents and command that your death take a month and a day, that your flesh rot and die before you do."

There was no longer any doubt in the men's minds as to the seriousness of Jagang's orders, or the value of his prize.

A vast escort of hundreds, if not thousands, of the inner and most expert of the emperor's guards formed up around their leader as he strode purposefully away from his tent. The five special guards surrounded Kahlan on every side except the side Jagang was on. They all moved out into the camp in a wedge of armor and drawn weapons. Kahlan supposed that, as a leader, Jagang was just taking normal precautions against spies, but she thought that it was more than that.

He was better than everyone else.

CHAPTER 46

By the time they returned to the emperor's compound and his large tent after the Ja'La contests, Kahlan's level of worry had risen. It wasn't just the obvious dread of being alone with such an unpredictable and dangerous man — or even her near panic over what she knew he intended to do to her.

It was all of that, with a sinister undercurrent to his cruelty churning just beneath the surface. There was a flush to his face, a more assertive nature to his movements, an edgy quality to his short comments, a fierce intensity in his inky eyes. Watching the games had put Jagang in an even more violent mood than what she believed was his norm. The games had worked him up. They had excited him — in every way.

Back at the games he'd felt that one of the teams had not played to their full potential, had not given it everything they had. He'd thought they were holding back and not putting their all into the contest.

When they lost, he had them executed on the field.

The crowd had cheered more at that than at the rather tedious play of the game itself. Jagang was hailed for putting the losers to death. The games that followed were played with considerably more passion, and on ground soggy from the blood of the beheadings. Ja'La was a game in which men ran, dodged, and darted past one another, or blocked, or chased the man with the heavy ball — the broc — trying to capture it, or attack with it, or score with it. Men often fell or were knocked from their feet. When they did they rolled across the ground. In the summer heat, without shirts, they were soon slick not just with sweat but with blood. From what Kahlan could see of the female camp followers watching from the sidelines, they weren't in the least put off by the blood. If anything, it made them only more eager to catch the attention of the players who were now whipping the crowd into a frenzy with their fast-paced, aggressive tactics.

In all the rest of the games after the one resulting in executions, as in the ones previous, the losing teams, since they had at least played with wild determination, were not put to death but flogged. A terrible whip, made up of a number of knotted cords bound together, was used for the penalty. Each of those cords was tipped with heavy nuggets of metal. The men were given one lash for each point by which they lost. Most losing teams lost by several points, but even one lash from that whip ripped open the naked flesh of a man's back.

The crowd enthusiastically counted out each lash to each man on the losing team kneeling in the center of the field. The winners often cavorted around the perimeter of the field, showing off for the crowd, while the losers, with bowed heads, received their whipping.

It had made Kahlan sick to witness such a thing. It had excited Jagang.

Kahlan was relieved that the games were at last over, but now that she was back inside the emperor's compound and about to enter his tent, a gnawing sense of dread was eating away at her insides. Jagang was in a temper provoked by violence and aroused by blood. Kahlan could see in his eyes that he was in no mood to be denied anything.

And the only thing left for him that night was her.