Phantom Read Online Free PDF Page A

close to Kahlan’s.
    “You are lucky this day,” she said in a venomous voice. “We don’t have time to make you regret your disobedience—not right now, anyway. But don’t think that you are going to get away with it without suffering the consequences.”
    “No, Sister,” Kahlan managed to say with great effort. She knew that not to answer would only make it worse yet.
    “I guess that you’re simply too stupid to comprehend how insignificant and powerless you are in the face of your betters. Perhaps this time, when you are given another lesson, even one as lowly and ignorant as you will understand it.”
    “Yes, Sister.”
    Even though she knew quite well what they would make her endure to teach her that lesson, Kahlan would have done the same thing again. She regretted only failing to protect the girl, as she had promised. The day she had taken those three boxes out of Lord Rahl’s palace, she had left in their place her most prized possession: a small statue of a proud woman, her fists at her side, her back arched, and her head thrown back as if facing forces that would subdue her but could not.
    Kahlan had gathered strength that day in Richard Rahl’s palace. Standing in his garden, looking back at the proud statue she’d had to leave there, Kahlan had sworn that she would have her life back. Having herlife back meant fighting for life, even if it was the life of a little girl she didn’t know.
    “Let’s go,” Sister Ulicia growled as she marched toward the door, expecting everyone to follow.
    Kahlan’s boots thumped down on the floor when the force pressing her to the wall abruptly released her.
    She collapsed to her knees, her bloody hands comforting her throat as she gasped for air. Her fingers encountered the hated collar by which the Sisters controlled her.
    “Move,” Sister Cecilia ordered in a tone that had Kahlan scrambling to her feet.
    She glanced over her shoulder and saw the poor girl’s dead eyes staring at her, watching her go.

Chapter 3
    Richard stood suddenly. The legs of the heavy wooden chair he’d been sitting in chattered as they slid back across the rough stone floor. His fingertips still rested on the edge of the table where the book he’d been reading lay open, waiting, before the silver lantern.
    There was something wrong with the air.
    Not with the way it smelled, or with the temperature, or with the humidity, although it was a warm and sticky night. It was the air itself. Something felt wrong about the air.
    Richard couldn’t imagine why he would suddenly be struck with such a thought. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was that could be the cause of such an odd notion. There were no windows in the small reading room, so he didn’t know what it was like outside—if it was clear, or windy, or stormy. He knew only that it was deep in the night.
    Cara, not far away behind him, stood up from the thickly padded brown leather chair where she, too, had been reading. She waited, but said nothing.
    Richard had asked her to read several historical volumes he’d found. Whatever she could find out about the ancient times when the Chainfire book had been written might prove helpful. She hadn’t complained about the task. Cara rarely complained about anything as long as it didn’t in any way prevent her from protecting him. Since she was able to stay right there in the room with him, she’d had no objections to reading the books he’d given her. One of the other Mord-Sith, Berdine, could read High D’Haran and had in the past been very helpful with things written in the ancient language often found in rare books, but Berdine was far away at the People’s Palace. That still left uncountable volumes written in their own language for Cara to review.
    Cara watched him as he peered around at the paneled walls, his gaze passing methodically over the ornamental oddities on the shelves: the lacquered boxes with inlaid silver designs, the small figures of dancerscarved from