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Faith of the Fallen :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 585 из 617Nicci had once promised him that if he died, or chose death, that would in itself be her answer, and she would not harm Kahlan. Now, Richard could only put his faith in that promise.
The statue existed. That was what mattered. Life existed. People needed to see that. So many people in the Old World needed to see that life existed, and was to be lived.
For so early in the morning, there was an unusual amount of activity on the streets of Altur'Rang. Now and again, squads of heavily armed city guards rushed down the streets. There were a lot of people come to the city for the dedication celebration. He supposed that was why there were so many people out on the streets.
The guards paid him no attention. He knew they soon would.
When he arrived at the Retreat, Richard was shocked by what he saw. The open miles of grounds were covered with people. They crowded in around the palace walls like ants around spilled honey. He couldn't even begin to estimate how many people blanketed the surrounding hills. It was disorienting to see the panoply of color where before he had seen only brown dirt and green winter rye. He had no idea that this many people had wanted to come to the dedication. But then, he had been working day and night for months-how would he hear what people planned?
Richard skirted the worst of the throngs and made his way up the road toward the blacksmith's shop. He wanted to get Victor and go down with him to the site to see the statue before the Order came out to begin the dedication. Victor would no doubt be eagerly waiting.
The road was crowded with people. They seemed excited, happy, and expectant. It was a far cry from the way most people in the Old World usually appeared or behaved. Maybe a celebration, even one such as this, was better than the rest of their dreary days.
A half mile from Victor's place, a wild-looking Brother Neal leaped into the road and thrust an arm in Richard's direction.
"There he is! Grab him!"
Guards combing throughout the surrounding crowds drew weapons at Neal's command. As they swept in around him, Richard's first instinct was to fight.
In an instant, he had assessed the enemy and calculated his attack. He had only to grab one sword from a clumsy guard and he would have them all. In his own mind, the grisly deed was already done. He had only to bring it to reality.
The guards came at him in a dead run. People scattered out of the way, some screaming in fright.
There was the matter of Neal, though. Neal was a wizard. But Richard could deal with that threat, too-need powered his ability.
The statue existed. That was what mattered. Life existed. People needed to see that. So many people in the Old World needed to see that life existed, and was to be lived.
For so early in the morning, there was an unusual amount of activity on the streets of Altur'Rang. Now and again, squads of heavily armed city guards rushed down the streets. There were a lot of people come to the city for the dedication celebration. He supposed that was why there were so many people out on the streets.
The guards paid him no attention. He knew they soon would.
When he arrived at the Retreat, Richard was shocked by what he saw. The open miles of grounds were covered with people. They crowded in around the palace walls like ants around spilled honey. He couldn't even begin to estimate how many people blanketed the surrounding hills. It was disorienting to see the panoply of color where before he had seen only brown dirt and green winter rye. He had no idea that this many people had wanted to come to the dedication. But then, he had been working day and night for months-how would he hear what people planned?
Richard skirted the worst of the throngs and made his way up the road toward the blacksmith's shop. He wanted to get Victor and go down with him to the site to see the statue before the Order came out to begin the dedication. Victor would no doubt be eagerly waiting.
The road was crowded with people. They seemed excited, happy, and expectant. It was a far cry from the way most people in the Old World usually appeared or behaved. Maybe a celebration, even one such as this, was better than the rest of their dreary days.
A half mile from Victor's place, a wild-looking Brother Neal leaped into the road and thrust an arm in Richard's direction.
"There he is! Grab him!"
Guards combing throughout the surrounding crowds drew weapons at Neal's command. As they swept in around him, Richard's first instinct was to fight.
In an instant, he had assessed the enemy and calculated his attack. He had only to grab one sword from a clumsy guard and he would have them all. In his own mind, the grisly deed was already done. He had only to bring it to reality.
The guards came at him in a dead run. People scattered out of the way, some screaming in fright.
There was the matter of Neal, though. Neal was a wizard. But Richard could deal with that threat, too-need powered his ability.