The pillars of creation

"Don't you see? If I would stop taking 'no' for an answer, and insist Lathea tell me, then maybe I could save a dangerous journey to the even more dangerous heart of D'Hara, and leave, instead. For the first time in my life, I could be free, then. But I was about to throw away that chance because I was afraid of Lathea, too. I'm sick to death of being afraid."

In the dim light, he stood considering their options.

"So, let's just leave. Let me take you away from D'Hara, if that's what you want."

"No. Not until I find out why Lord Rahl wants to kill me."

"Jennsen, what difference does it make if-"

"No!" Her fists tightened. "Not until I find out first why my mother had to die!"

She could feel bitter tears turning icy cold as they ran down her cheeks.

Finally, Sebastian nodded. "I understand. Let's go see Lathea. I'll help you get an answer from her. Maybe then you'll let me take you away from D'Hara, to where you will be safe."

She brushed back the tears. "Thank you, Sebastian. But, don't you have some kind of job to do, here? I can't let my problems get in your way any longer. This is my trouble. You must live your own life."

He smiled then. "Our people's spiritual guide, Brother Narev, says that our most important job in this life is helping those who need help."

Such a sentiment lifted her spirits when she didn't think they could be lifted. "He sounds like a wonderful man."

"He is."

"But you are still on a duty from your leader, Jagang the Just, aren't you?"

"Brother Narev is also a close friend and spiritual guide to Emperor Jagang. Both men would want me to help you, I know they would. After all, the Lord Rahl is our enemy, too. Lord Rahl has caused our people untold hardship. Both men, Brother Narev and Emperor Jagang, would insist I help you. That's the truth of it."

She was choked with emotion, and couldn't speak. She let him put his arm around her waist and lead her down the road. Sharing the quiet darkness with him, Jennsen listened to the soft sound of their boots crunching through the hard crust of snow.

Lathea had to help her. Jennsen intended to see to it.

CHAPTER 11

Oba hated it to end, but he knew it had to. He would have to get home. His mother would be angry if he stayed too long in town. Besides, he could wring no more enjoyment out of Lathea. She had given him all the satisfaction she was ever going to give him.

It had been fascinating, while it lasted. Boundlessly fascinating. And he had learned many new things. Animals simply did not provide the same kind of sensations as those he had gotten from Lathea. True, watching a person die was in many ways much like watching an animal die, but at the same time it was oh so very different. Oba had learned that.

Who knew what a rat was really thinking-or if rats could even think at all? But people could think. You could see their mind through their eyes, and you knew. To know they were thinking real people thoughtsnot some chicken-rabbit-rat thoughts-behind those human eyes, behind that look that said it all, was intoxicating. Witnessing Lathea's ordeal had been rapture. Especially as he waited for that singular inspirational instant of ultimate anguish when her soul fled her human form, and the Keeper of the Dead received her into his eternal realm.

Animals did give him a thrill, though, even if they lacked that human element. There was tremendous enjoyment to be had in nailing an animal to a fence, or a barn wall, and skinning them while they were still alive. But he didn't think they had a soul. They just… died.

Lathea had died, too, but it had been a whole new experience.

Lathea had made him grin like he had never grinned before.

Oba unscrewed the top of the lamp, pulled out the woven wick, and dribbled lamp oil across the floor, over the broken pieces of the trestle table, around Lathea's medicine cabinet lying facedown in the center of the room.

As much as he knew he would enjoy it, he couldn't just leave her there to be discovered. There would be questions, if she was found like this. He glanced over at her. Especially if she was found like this.

That idea did hold a certain fascination. He would enjoy listening to all the hysterical talk. He would love to hear people tell him all the macabre details of the monstrous death Lathea had suffered. The very idea of a man who could have taken the powerful sorceress out in such a grisly fashion would cause a sensation. People would want to know who had done it. To some folk, he would be an avenging hero. People everywhere would be abuzz. As word spread about Lathea's ordeal and gruesome end, the gossip would heat to a fever pitch. That would be fun.

As he emptied the last of the lamp oil, he saw his knife, where he'd left it, beside the overturned cabinet. He tossed the empty lamp on the heap of ruin and bent to retrieve his knife. It was a mess. Couldn't have an omelet without breaking eggs, his mother always said. She said it a lot. In this case, Oba thought her tired old saw fit.