“You’re really mean. You’re really mean to say to chop off that man’s head.”

The Princess put her hands on her hips. “Is that so? Well you can just spend the night outside tonight!”

“But Princess Violet, it’s so cold out tonight!”

“Well, while you’re freezing you can just think about how you dared speak to me in that tone! And so you remember the next time, you are to stay out all day tomorrow, and tomorrow night, too!” Her face looked mean, like the Queen’s did sometimes. “That should teach you some respect.”

Rachel started to say something else—then she remembered the trouble doll, and that she wanted to go out. The Princess pointed at the archway toward the door.

“Go on. Right now, with no supper.” She stomped her foot.

Rachel looked at the ground, to pretend she was sad. “Yes, Princess Violet,” she said, as she curtsied.

She walked with her head down, through the archway and down the big hall with all the rugs hung on the high walls. She liked to look at the pictures on the rugs, but she kept her head down this time, in case the Princess was watching—she didn’t want to look happy about being put out. Guards, wearing shiny armor breastplates and swords and holding pikes, opened the great, tall, iron doors for her without saying anything. They never said anything to her when they let her out, or when they let her back in. They knew she was the Princess’s playmate: a nobody.

When she got outside, she tried not to walk too fast, in case anyone was watching. The stone was as cold as ice on her bare feet. Carefully, and with each hand under the other armpit to keep her fingers warm, she went down the wide steps and terraces, taking them one at a time so she wouldn’t fall, at last reaching the cobblestone walk at the bottom. More guards patrolled outside, but they ignored her. They saw her all the time. The closer she got to the gardens, the faster she walked.

Rachel slowed on the main garden path, waiting until the guards’ backs were turned. The trouble doll was right where Giller had said it would be. She put the fire stick in her pocket, then hugged the doll to her as tight as she could before hiding it behind her back. She whispered to it, a warning to be still. She couldn’t wait to get to her wayward pine so she could tell the doll how mean Princess Violet was to have that man’s head chopped off. She looked around in the darkness.

There was no one watching, no one to see her take the doll. At the outer wall, more men were patrolling the high walks, and the Queen’s guards were at the gate, standing stiffly in their armor. They wore their fancy uniforms over the armor, sleeveless red tunics with the Queen’s mark, a black wolf’s head, emblazoned in the center. As they lifted the heavy iron bar and two of them pulled the squeaky door open for her, they didn’t even look to see what she had behind her back. When she heard the clang of the bar dropping back in place, and turned around to see the backs of the guards on the wall, then at last she smiled and started to run—it was a long way.

In a high tower, dark eyes watched her go. Watched her pass through the heavy guard without raising the slightest suspicion, or interest, like a breath through fangs, through the outer wall garden gate that had kept determined armies out, and traitors in, watched her cross the bridge where hundreds of foes had died in battle, yet failed to gain, watched her run across the fields, barefoot, unarmed, innocent, and into the forest. To her secret place.

Furious, Zedd slapped his hand to the cold metal plate. The massive stone door slowly grated closed. He had to step over the bodies of D’Haran guards as he walked to the low wall. His fingers came to rest on the familiar, smooth stone as he leaned forward, looking out over the sleeping city below.

From this high wall on the mountainside, the city looked peaceful enough. But he had already slipped through the darkened streets and seen the troops everywhere. Troops that were there at the cost of many lives, on both sides.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Darken Rahl had to have been here. Zedd pounded his fist to the stone. It had to be Darken Rahl who had taken it.

The intricate web of shields should have held, but they hadn’t. He had been away too many years. He had been a fool.

“Nothing is ever easy,” the wizard whispered.

Chapter 30

“Kahlan,” Richard asked, “remember, when we were back with the Mud People, and that man said Rahl had come, riding a red demon? Do you know what he was talking about?”

They had traveled three days across the plains, with Savidlin and his hunters, then had bid him goodbye with a promise to his sad eyes to do whatever they could to find Siddin, and they had spent the past week climbing up into the high country, into the Rang’Shada, the vast spine of rock that Kahlan had said ran northeast across the back of the Midlands, and cradled in its mountains the remote place known as Agaden Reach. A place she said was surrounded by jagged peaks, like a wreath of thorns, meant to keep all away.

“You don’t know?” She looked a little surprised.

When he shook his head, she slumped down on a hump of rock to take a break. Richard slipped his pack off with a tired groan and flopped on the ground, leaning against a short rock, putting his arms back on it to stretch them into a different position. She looked different to him, now that the black and white mud had been washed off her face. He had gotten used to it over those three days.

“So what was it?” he asked again.

“A dragon.”

“A dragon! There are dragons in the Midlands? I didn’t think there really were such things!”

“Well, there are.” She frowned over at him. “I thought you knew.” He gave a single shake of his head. “I guess you wouldn’t, since Westland has no magic. Dragons have magic. I believe that’s how they fly, with the aid of magic.”

“I thought dragons were just legends, old tales.” He flicked a pebble between his thumb and second finger, watching it bounce off a boulder.

“Old tales of things remembered, maybe. Anyway, they are real enough.” With her thumbs, she lifted her hair away from the back of her neck, to cool it, and closed her eyes. “There are different kinds. Gray, green, red, and a few others, less common. The gray ones are the smallest, rather shy. The green are a lot bigger. The smartest and the biggest are the red ones. Some peoples of the Midlands keep the gray ones as pets, and for hunting. No one keeps green ones—they’re rather dumb, have bad tempers and can be quite dangerous.” Her eyelids slid open and she tilted her head to look up from under her arched eyebrows. “The red ones are something altogether different—they will fry you and eat you in a blink. And, they are smart.”

“They eat people!” Richard pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and gave a groan.

“Only if they are hungry enough, or angry enough. We wouldn’t make much of a meal for them.” When he took his hands away and opened his eyes, her green eyes were looking at him. “The thing I don’t understand is what Rahl was doing on one.”

Richard remembered the red thing in the sky that flew over him in the upper Ven Forest, just before he found Kahlan. He tossed another pebble at the boulder. “That must be how he covers so much territory.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I mean I don’t understand why a red dragon would submit to it. They are fiercely independent, take no sides in human affairs, in fact, couldn’t care less. They would rather die than be subjugated. And they would make a good fight of it, believe me. As I said, they have magic, and could deal even the one from D’Hara quite a match, for a time anyway. Even if he threatened them with death from some of his own magic, they wouldn’t care—they would rather die than be ruled.