Zedd hated to see Adie so distraught. Adie only knew there were a number of them by the telltale sounds they made. At least he could see the men with his eyes, if not his gift.
The men stood around, heads hanging, waiting to be commanded.
They didn't look pleased by what was happening. They all looked young, in their twenties. Some were crying. It seemed strange to see such big men weeping. Zedd almost regretted killing one of them. Almost.
"You three," the woman growled to more of the men waiting in the shadows as she lifted another lantern from one of them and sent the flame she held into it, "get in there and start the search."
Adie's completely white eyes turned to Zedd, her expression grave.
"Sister of the Dark," she whispered.
And now they had the Keep.
And just how can you be sure that it was a Sister of the Dark you saw?"
Verna asked, absently, as she dipped her pen again.
She scrawled her initials at the bottom of the request for a Sister to travel to a town down south to see to a local sorceress's plans for a defense of their area. Even in the field, the paperwork of the office of the Prelate seemed to have chased after and found her. Their palace had been destroyed, the prophet himself was at large and the real Prelate was off alone chasing after him, some of the Sisters of the Light had pledged their souls to the Keeper of the underworld and in so doing had brought the Keeper a step closer to having them all in the dark forever of eternity, a good number of the Sisters-both Sisters of the Light and Sisters of the Dark-were in the cruel hands of the enemy and doing his bidding, the barrier separating the Old and New World was down, the whole world had been turned upside down, the only man-Richard Rahl-whom prophecy named as having a chance of defeating the threat of the Imperial Order was off who-knew-where doing who-knew-what, and yet, the paperwork managed to survive it all and persist to vex her.
Some of Verna's assistants handled the paperwork and the requests, but, as much as she disliked dealing with such tedious matters, Verna felt a sense of duty to keep an eye on it all. Besides, as much as paperwork vexed her, it also occupied her mind, preventing her from dwelling on the might-have-been.
"After all," Verna added, "it could just as easily have been a Sister of the Light. Jagang uses both for their ability with magic. You can't really be sure it was a Sister of the Dark. He's been sending Sisters to accompany his scouts all winter and spring."
The Mord-Sith placed her knuckles on the small desk and leaned in. "I'm telling you, Prelate, it was a Sister of the Dark."
Verna saw no point in arguing, since it mattered little, so she didn't.
"If you say so, Rikka."
Verna turned over the paper to the next in the stack, a request for a Sister to come and speak to children on the calling of the Sisters of the Light, with a lecture on why the Creator would be against the ways of the Imperial Order and on their side. Verna smiled to herself, imagining how Zedd would fume at the very idea of a Sister, in the New World, lecturing her views on such a subject.
Rikka withdrew her knuckles from the desk. "I thought you might say as much."
"Well, there you go, then," Verna mumbled as she read the next message from the Sisters of the Light to the south reporting on the passes through the mountains and the methods that had been used to seal them off.
"Wait right here," Rikka growled before flying out of the tent.
"I'm not going anywhere," Verna said with a sigh as she scanned the written account, but the fiery, blond-headed woman was already gone.
Verna heard a commotion outside the tent. Rikka was delivering a scathing lecture to someone. The Mord-Sith was incorrigible. That was probably why, despite everything, Verna liked her.
Since Warren had died, Verna's heart was no longer in much of anything, though. She did as she had to, did her duty, but she couldn't make herself feel anything but despair. The man she loved, the man she had married, the most wonderful man in the world… was gone.
Nothing much mattered after that.
Verna tried to do her part, to do as was needed, because so many people depended on her, but, if truth be told, the reason she worked herself nearly to death was to try to keep her mind occupied, to think of something else, anything else, except Warren. It didn't really work, but she kept at it. She knew that people counted on her, but she just couldn't make herself truly care.
Warren was gone. Life was empty of what mattered most to her. That was the end of it, the end of her caring about much of anything.
