The pillars of creation

Sebastian wouldn't be aware of that. She had never told him exactly what Althea had explained about the gifted and the offspring of a Lord Rahl. Sebastian had, on more than one occasion, shown a condescending disgust in the details of magic. Jennsen had never felt entirely comfortable talking to him about the specifics of what she had learned from the sorceress, and the even more important things she had figured out on her own. It was all difficult enough for her to reconcile in her own mind, and seemed too personal to reveal to him unless the time and circumstances were right. They never seemed to be.

Jennsen forced a smile at the women watching from the shadows of the tent. They stared back.

"Why is the emperor insulated from his men, and guarded?" she asked Sebastian.

"With this many men, you can never be absolutely certain that one isn't an infiltrator, or even a deranged madman, who might try to make a name for himself by harming Emperor Jagang. Such a foolish act would deprive us all of our great leader. With so much at risk, we have to take precautions."

Jennsen supposed she could understand. After all, Sebastian himself had been an infiltrator in the People's Palace. Had he come across an important man there, he could have done harm. The D'Harans were troubled by such a threat. They had even arrested the right man.

Fortunately, Jennsen had been able to get him out. How she had been able to accomplish such a thing was part of what she had finally come to terms with, but could never find the right time to share with Sebastian. She didn't think he would understand, anyway. He probably wouldn't even believe such a far-fetched notion.

Sebastian's arm circled her waist and drew her onward toward two huge, silent men standing guard outside the emperor's tent. Stepping between the two after they bowed their heads to him, Sebastian lifted aside a heavy doorway curtain covered with gold and silver medallions.

Jennsen had never even imagined, much less seen, such a lavish tent, but what she saw as she stepped inside was far more opulent than even the outside suggested. The ground was entirely covered with a variety of rich carpets laid every which way. An assortment of woven hangings decorated with exotic scenes and elaborate designs defined the space. Delicate glass bowls, fine pottery, and tall painted vases sat on the polished tables and chests around the room. To the side there was even a tall glass-fronted bureau filled with painted plates displayed on stands. Colorful pillows in a variety of sizes rimmed the floor. Overhead, openings covered with sheer silk let in muted light. Scented candles shimmered everywhere, while all the carpets and hangings imposed a quiet hush to the air. The place felt sacred.

There were women inside, each wearing the ring through her lower lip, busily going about duties. While most appeared absorbed in their work, one of the women, polishing a collection of tall, delicate vases in a measured, methodical manner, coolly watched Jermsen out of the comer of her eye. She was middle-aged, broad shouldered, and wore a simple floorlength dark gray dress buttoned to her neck. Her gray and black hair was loosely tied back. For the most part, she appeared unremarkable, except for the knowing, self-satisfied smirk that seemed enduringly etched in her face. That look gave Jennsen pause.

As their eyes met, the voice stiffed, calling Jennsen's name in that haunting, dead whisper, calling for her to suffender. For some reason, Jennsen was momentarily suffused with the icy sense that the woman knew that the voice had spoken. Jermsen dismissed the odd notion, deciding that it was merely due to the woman's expression, which exuded a demeanor of stark superiority.

Another woman busied herself brushing at the carpets with a small hand broom. Yet another was replacing candles that had guttered. Other women-some sure to be Sisters of the Light-hurried in and out of rooms beyond, tending to the collection of pillows, lamps, and even flowers in vases. One thin young man wearing only baggy cotton trousers worked with a comb ordering the fringe of the carpets set before openings into back rooms. Except for the brown-eyed woman polishing the tall vases, they were focused on their work and none paid any particular notice that visitors had entered the emperor's tent.

Sebastian's arm held her securely as he guided her deeper into the dimly lit room. The walls and ceiling moved and billowed slightly in the wind. Jennsen's heart could have pounded no harder were she being led to her own execution. When she realized that her fingers were tightening around the hilt of her knife to check if it was clear in its scabbard, she forced herself to let her hand drop away from it.