Jennsen's heart raced as they urged their horses down into the thick of the encampment. Both Rusty and Pete, their ears alert, snorted their misgivings about entering such a noisy and busy place. She urged Rusty ahead in order to take Sebastian's hand when offered it.

"Your hand is all sweaty," he said, smiling. "You aren't nervous, are you?"

She was water at a boil, a horse at a gallop. "Maybe a little," she said.

But her purpose stiffened her will.

"Well, don't be. Emperor Jagang will be the one to be nervous, meeting such a beautiful woman."

Jennsen could feel her face heat. She was about to meet an emperor. What would her mother think of such a thing? As she rode, she considered how her mother, as a young servant girl on the palace staff-a nobodymust have felt when she met Darken Rahl himself. Jennsen could, for the first time, truly begin to empathize with the enormity of such an event in her mother's life.

As she and Sebastian trotted their horses into camp, men everywhere peered Jennsen's way. Mobs of men crowded closer to see the woman riding in. She saw that there were a number of soldiers with pikes forming a rough line along their route, holding back the press of men. She realized that the guards were clearing the way and preventing any of the more celebratory men from getting too close.

Sebastian watched her as she took note of the way the soldiers opened a clear path for them.

"The emperor knows we're coming," he told her.

"But how?"

"When we encountered scouts a few days ago, and then sentries this morning as we got closer, they would have sent runners on ahead to inform Emperor Jagang that I've returned, and that I'm not alone. Emperor Jagang would want to insure the safety of any guest I would bring."

It appeared to Jennsen that the guards were meant to keep the great mass of regular soldiers away from the two of them. She thought it an odd thing to do, but by the drunken nature of some of the soldiers, and the rough looks and leering grins of others, she couldn't say that she was sorry about it.

"The soldiers look so… I don't know… brutish, I guess."

"And as you are about to plunge your knife into Richard Rahl's heart," Sebastian said without pause, "do you intend to curtsy and say please and thank you so that he will see how well mannered you are?"

"Of course not, but-"

He turned his halting blue eyes on her. "When those brutes came into your house and butchered your mother, what sort of men would you have wished were there to protect her?"

Jennsen was taken aback. "Sebastian, I don't know what that has to do-»

"Would you trust dressy soldiers with polished leather and polite manners-like some pompous king would have at a fancy dinner party-to be the ones to make a desperate last stand protecting your beloved mother against the onslaught of vicious killers? Or would you want men even more brutish to be the ones to stand before your mother, protecting her life? Wouldn't you want men steeped in the most brutal traditions of combat, to be the ones standing between her and those savage men intent on killing her?"

"I guess I see what you mean," Jennsen admitted.

"These men are serving in that role for all their loved ones back in the Old World."

The unexpected encounter with that terrible memory was so chilling, so painful, that she had to work at putting it out of her mind. She felt humbled, too, by Sebastian's heated words. She was here for a reason. That reason was all that mattered. If the men arrayed against Lord Rahl's forces were tough and mean, so much the better.

It wasn't until they reached the heavily defended compound around the emperor's tents that Jennsen saw other women. They were an odd mix, from young-looking to some who were stooped with age. Most peered curiously, some frowned, and a few even appeared alarmed, but all watched as Jennsen rode, closer.

"Why do the women all have rings through their lower lip?" she whispered to Sebastian, His gaze swept the women near the tents. "As a sign of loyalty to the Imperial Order, to Emperor Jagang."

Jennsen thought it not just a strange way to show loyalty, but disquieting. Most of the women wore drab dresses, most had unkempt hair. Some were dressed a little better, but only a little.

Soldiers took the horses when they dismounted. Jennsen stroked Rusty's ear and whispered reassuringly to the nervous animal that it was all right to go with the stranger. Once Rusty was calmed, Pete contentedly followed her toward the stable area. Parting from her constant companion of so long unexpectedly reminded Jennsen of how she missed Betty.

The women moved farther into the background as they watched, as if fearing to get too close. Jennsen was used to such behavior; people feared her red hair. It was a rare warm spring day, and it had intoxicated Jennsen with the promise of more such days. She had forgotten to put her hood up as they came close to the encampment. She started, then, to put it up, but Sebastian's hand stayed her arm.

"It's not necessary." With a tilt of his head, he indicated the women.

"Many of them are Sisters of the Light. They don't fear magic, only strangers entering the emperor's compound."

Jennsen realized then the reason for the strange looks from a number of the women; they were gifted and saw her as a hole in the world. Their eyes were seeing her, but their gift was not.

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.

Near the back of the room sat an ornately carved and gilded chair draped with streamers of red silks. Jennsen swallowed when she finally made herself look at the man sitting there, his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin held by his thumb, his forefinger resting along the side of his face.

He was a thick-necked bull of a man. Flickering candlelight reflecting off his shaved head lent the illusion that he wore a crown of tiny flames. Two long, thin braids of mustache grew down from the comers of his mouth, and another braid grew from the center of his chin. Fine gold chain connected the gold rings through his left nostril and ear, while a collection of much heavier, jeweled chains rested in the cleft of muscles on his powerful chest. Each meaty finger was studded with a large ring. The lamb's-wool vest he wore had no sleeves, revealing his hefty shoulders and brawny arms. While he didn't appear tall, his muscled mass was nonetheless imposing.