Without looking back, Nathan pointed. "Your Sisters are that way. Prelate. To the northwest. Go to them, and save yourself the trouble of trying to follow me. You won't succeed. Your Sisters are safe from the dream walker; I had them transfer their bond to me while Richard went to the world of the dead. If Richard lives, you all can transfer it back to him. Good-bye, Verna. Warren."

Kahlan pressed a fist to her stomach. If he lives? If? "Hurry," she said to the sliph. "Hurry!" A silver arm swept her from the wall and down into the quicksilver froth.

CHAPTER 66

He smiled at the way she struggled. He liked the way she had fought him. He enjoyed teaching her how useless it was to fight a person of his superior strength, superior intellect. He watched in fascination as blood ran from her mouth and nose. The gash on her jaw oozed.

"You are only succeeding at making your wrists bleed," he taunted. "You can't break the ropes, but keep at it, if you wish."

She spat at him. He smacked her again. He dug his thumb across the cut on her jaw, spellbound by the pattern of blood flooding down the side of her neck.

He knew her auras. He'd felt them before. He knew just which ones to touch to cripple her. It hadn't taken long to overpower her. Not long at all.

Her teeth gritted as she growled with effort, straining against the ropes. She was strong, but she was not strong enough. Without her power and her weapon, she was a mere woman. No mere woman was a match for him. Not in any way.

When his fingers began unbuttoning the row of buttons along the side of her ribs, she tugged violently at the ropes holding her wrists and ankles. He liked that. He like to watch her struggle. To watch her bleed. He punched her face again.

He was intrigued that she didn't cry out, that she didn't beg for mercy. That she didn't scream. She would. Oh, how she would scream.

His punch had stunned her for the moment. Her eyes rolled as she fought to remain conscious. He threw back the front of her outfit, exposing her breasts and the upper half of her torso.

He hooked his fingers under the tight waist of her red leather pants and, with a quick pull, yanked them down enough for what he was going to do to her.

Her entire belly was exposed. He felt it. Tight. Hard. There were scars on her. They riveted him. He tried to imagine what had caused such scars. As jagged and white as they were, it would have been bloody.

"I've been raped before," she sneered. "More times than I can remember. I can tell you from experience that you're not very good at it. You haven't even gotten my pants down enough, you stupid pig. Get on with it, if you even can. I'm waiting."

"Oh, Cara, I'm not going to rape you. That would be wrong. I have never raped a woman. I only have women who want it." She laughed at him. Laughed. "You are one twisted bastard." He resisted his urge to smash her face. He wanted her awake for this. Alive for this. But he shook with rage.

"Bastard?" His fist tightened. "Because of women like you!" He hammered a fist down on her breast. Her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth clenched as she winced in pain, trying to curl up in a ball, but unable to, stretched out in the ropes as she was.

He took a settling breath, regaining his control. He wouldn't let her divert him with her filthy mouth, "Now. I'm going to give you one last chance. Where is Richard? The soldiers are going wild with talk of Richard being back, of the bond being back. Where are you whores hiding him?"

The voices from the ether had told him, too. that Richard was back. The voices had told him that if he wished to assume his rightful place, he must eliminate Richard.

"And where is my loving wife? Where has she gone to?" The voices told him that she was in the sliph, but the sliph wouldn't tell him where she had gone.

Cara spat at him again. "I am Mord-Sith. You are too stupid to even imagine what has been done to me before. You couldn't fill the boots of the meekest trainer of Mord-Sith. Your puny torture will pry nothing from me." "Oh. Cara, you have never encountered one of my talents." "Do what you want with me, Drefan, but Lord Rahl-the real Lord Rahl-is going to cut you up into little pieces."

"And just how would he be able to do that?" He lifted the hilt of the Sword of Truth clear of its scabbard, so she could see the gold lettering that spelled out the word TRUTH. "I'm the one who is going to be doing the cutting into little pieces. Little tiny Richard pieces. Where is he!"

When she spat at him again, he couldn't resist fisting her across her cut and swollen lip. The blood gushed anew.

He turned and retrieved one of the items he had brought: an iron pot. He put it on her belly, upside down.

"I'm too big to cook in that pot, you stupid pig. You will have to cut me up. Do I have to explain everything to you?"

He liked the way she tried to antagonize him, to make him lose his temper. She wanted him to kill her. He would, but she would talk, first.

"Cook you? Oh, no, Cara. You have the wrong idea. The wrong idea entirely. You think me some maniacal murderer. No murderer, I. I am the hand of justice. I am the hand of mercy. Come to bring eternal virtue to those who have none. "This pot isn't to cook you. "It's to cook the rats."

He was watching. He saw the way her blue eyes flicked toward him. He had been waiting for just that reaction.

"Rats. I hope you aren't stupid enough to think that I am afraid of rats just because I'm a woman. I'm no woman like you have ever seen before. I used to keep rats as pets."

"Really? You lie so poorly. My dear, loving, passionate wife explained to me how afraid you are of rats."

She didn't answer. She was afraid of showing her fear. But he could see it in her eyes.

"I have a sack of rats, here. Nice, fat rats." "Just get on with this rape. I'm growing bored."

"I told you, I don't rape women. They want it from me. They ask for it. They beg for it." He tugged down his ruffled cuffs. "No, Cara. I have something else in mind for you. I want you to tell me where I can find my loving brother."

She turned her face away. "Never. Get on with the torture before I fall asleep and miss it."

"You see? As I told you, women always ask me for it." He pressed the iron pot to her belly and wound a chain around her middle, to hold down the pot. He forced a finger under the rim, checking, to make sure that it was tight enough.

He then loosened the rough knot in the chain, so he could get the rats under the pot. Cara showed no reaction when he shoved the first under the pot.

Holding the second by the scruff of its neck, he held it before her face, letting her see it squirm and squeak. "See, Cara? As I promised you. Rats. Big rats."

Sweat beaded on her forehead. "I kind of like it. It feels fuzzy against my stomach. I may fall asleep."

He stuffed the second, and then a third under the pot. There was room for no more. He took the slack from the chain, and tightened the knot of links.

"Fuzzy," he mocked. "I think they will keep you wide awake, Cara. Wide awake, and eager to talk, eager to betray Richard. Whores have no honor. You will betray him."

"Berdine is going to be here soon. She will skin you alive." He lifted an eyebrow. "You relieved Berdine. I saw you. After she left, I took you down. She won't be back for quite a while, but when she does come back, she will get the same as you."

With tongs, he retrieved a big, glowing coal from the pan over the mass of candles. He plunked the red-hot coal down inside the rim of the footed bottom of the iron pot.

"You see, Cara, the coals are going to heat this iron pot-get it very hot." He looked at her eyes. "The rats aren't going to like that. They are going to want out."