He waved a hand casually around at her accommodations. "But you are safe in here, my dear. No one can harm you while under our care. No one can bother you. You have fine food-even wine now and again. What more could you want?"

Fists at her side, Ann stormed forward at a pace that brought the Mord-Sith's Agiel up into her fist, even though she stayed where she was.

Nathan held his ground, held his smile, as he watched her come.

"What more could I want!" Ann screamed. "What more could I want? I want to be let out! That's what more I could want!"

Nathan's small, knowing smile cut her to her core. "Indeed," he said, a single word of quiet indictment.

Standing in the stony silence of the dungeon, she could only stare up at him, unable to bring forth an argument that he would not throw back at her.

Ann turned a glare on the Mord-Sith. "What message did you give him?"

"Nyda said that you wanted to see me," Nathan answered in her place. He spread his arms. "Here I am, as requested. What is it you wanted to see me about, my dear?"

"Don't patronize me, Nathan. You know very well what I wanted to see you about. You know why I'm here, in D'Hara-why I've come to the People's Palace."

Nathan clasped his hands behind his back. His smile had finally lost its usefulness.

"Nyda," he said, turning to the woman, "would you leave us alone for now. There's a good girl."

Nyda appraised Ann with a brief glance. No more was needed; Ann was no threat to Nathan. He was a wizard-no doubt he had told her that he was the greatest wizard of all time-and was within the ancestral home of the House of Rahl. He had no need to fear this one old sorceress-not anymore, anyway.

Nyda gave Nathan a if-you-need-me-I'll-be-right-outside kind of look before contorting her perfect limbs through the doorway with fluid grace, the way a cat went effortlessly through a hedge.

Nathan stood in the center of the cell, hands still clasped behind his upright back, waiting for Ann to say something.

Ann went to her pack, sitting on the far end of the stone bench that had been her bed, her table, her chair. She flipped back the flap and reached inside, feeling around. Her fingers found the cold metal of the object she sought. Ann drew it out and stood over it, her shadow hiding it.

Finally, she turned. "Nathan, I have something for you."

She lifted out a Rada'Han she had intended to put around his neck.

Right then, she didn't quite know how she had thought she could accomplish such a feat. She would have, though, had she put her mind to it; she was Annalina Aldurren, Prelate of the Sisters of the Light. Or, at least, she once had been. She had given that job to Verna before feigning her and Nathan's death.

"You want me to put that collar around my neck?" Nathan asked in a calm voice. "That's what you expect?"

Ann shook her head. "No, Nathan. I want to give this to you. I've been doing a lot of thinking while I've been down here. Thinking about how I'd probably never leave my place of confinement."

"What a coincidence," Nathan said. "I used to spend a great deal of time thinking that very same thought."

"Yes," Ann said, nodding. "I expect you did." She handed him the Rada'Han. "Here. Take this. I never want to see one of these again.

While I did what I thought best, I hated every minute of it, Nathan. I hated to do it to you, especially. I've come to think that my life has been a misguided mess. I'm sorry I ever put you behind those shields and kept you a prisoner. If I could live my life over again, I'd not do it the same way.

"I expect no leniency; I showed you none."

"No," Nathan said. "You didn't."

His azure eyes seemed to be looking right into her. He had a way of doing that. Richard had inherited that same penetrating Rahl gaze.

"So, you are sorry you kept me a prisoner all my life. Do you know why it was wrong, Ann? Are you even aware of the irony?"

Almost against her better judgment, she heard herself ask, "What irony?"

"Well," he said as he shrugged, "what is it we're fighting for?"

"Nathan, you know very well what we're fighting for."

"Yes, I do. But do you? Tell me, then, what it is we're struggling to protect, to preserve, to insure remains alive?"

"The Creator's gift of magic, of course. We fight to see that it continues to exist in the world. We struggle for those who are born with it to live, for them to learn to use their ability to its full extent. We fight for each to have and to celebrate their unique ability."

"I think that's kind of ironic, don't you? The very thing you think is worth fighting for is what you feared. The Imperial Order proclaims that it's not in the best interest of mankind for a gifted individual to possess magic, so that unique ability must be stripped away from them. They claim that, since all do not have this ability in identical and equal measure, it's dangerous for some to have it-that man must cast aside the belief that a man's life is his own to live. That those who were born with magic must therefore be expunged from the world in order to make the world a better place for those who don't have such ability.

"And yet, you worked under that very premise, acted on those same wicked beliefs. You locked me away because of my ability. You saw what I am able to do, that others cannot do, as an evil birthright that could not be allowed to be among mankind.

"And yet, you work to preserve that very thing which you fear in me-my unique ability-in others. You work to allow everyone born with magic to have the inalienable right to their own life, to be the best of what they can be with their own ability.. and yet you locked me away to deny me that very same right."

"Just because I want the Creator's wolves to run free to hunt, as they were intended, doesn't mean that I want to be their dinner."

Nathan leaned toward her. "I am not a wolf. I am a human being. You tried, convicted, and sentenced me to life in your prison for being who I was born, for what you feared I might do, simply because I had the ability.

You then soothed your own inner conflict by making that prison plush in an attempt to convince yourself that you were kind- all the while professing to believe that we must fight to allow future people to be who they are.

"You qualified your prison as right because it was lavish, in order to mask from yourself the nature of what you were advocating. Look around, Ann." He swept his arm out at the stone. "This is what you were advocating for those you decided did not have the right to their own life. You decided the same as the Order, based on an ability you did not like. You decided that some, because of their greater potential, must be sacrificed to the good of those less than they. No matter how you decorated your dungeon, this is what it looks like from the inside."

Ann gathered her thoughts, as well as her voice, before she spoke. "I thought I had come to understand something like that while I sat all alone down here, but I realize now that I hadn't, really. All those years I felt bad for locking you away, but I never really examined my rationale for doing so.

"You're right, Nathan. I believed you held the potential for great harm. I should have helped you to understand what was right so you could act rationally, rather than expect the worst from you and lock you away. I'm sorry, Nathan."

He put his hands on his hips. "Do you really mean it, Ann?"

She nodded, unable to look up at him, as her eyes filled with tears.

She always expected honesty from everyone else, but she had not been honest with herself. "Yes, Nathan, I really do."

Confession over, she went to her bench and slumped down. "Thank you for coming, Nathan. I'll not trouble you to come down here again. I will take my just punishment without complaint. If you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone right now to pray and consider the weight on my heart."