Worse, though, if Richard was killed then Kahlan would have no chance. She would be forever lost to the Chainfire spell, a living phantom of her former self.

That thought alone made Richard fight with a fury, even if he had to be careful to strike with the intent of stopping rather than killing. Pulling blows wasn't at all easy to do in the heat of a fight for his own life and Richard was taking nearly as much punishment as he was dealing out.

When one of the men again threw a punch, Richard seized the man's arm. Grunting with the effort, he ducked under the extended arm, twisting it around, and flipped the man to the ground.

As Richard himself was knocked to the ground, he scooped up a length of chain and spun, whipping it across the face of one of the men. The sound of steel against flesh and bone was sickening. Another man kicked Richard hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs.

The blows Richard was taking were wearing him down. Even though the fight had only started moments before it seemed like hours. The furious effort to defend himself was exhausting him.

Just as another man lunged at him, the man was suddenly jerked back.

Johnrock had thrown a loop of his own chain around the man's neck. As the man clawed at the chain, struggling to breathe, Johnrock pulled him back away from Richard. In a fury of fists, feet, and flailing chain, Johnrock helped Richard drive the men back.

Someone else, yelling angry threats, appeared in the darkness, running in through the ring of guards. Richard was so busy fighting off the men, trying to deflect a flurry of fists, he couldn't tell who it was.

All of a sudden the new man seized one of the attackers by the hair and threw him back. In the light from nearby torches Richard saw the tattoos of scales. Commander Karg yelled that the five men were cowards and threatened to have them beheaded. He kicked at them as he ordered them to get out of his team's quarters.

All five scrambled to their feet and abruptly vanished back into the night. It was suddenly over. Richard lay in the dirt, not even trying to get up.

Commander Karg angrily pointed a finger at the guards. "If you men let anyone else get through, I'll have you all skinned alive! Do you understand?"

The guards back by the ring of wagons, looking sheepish and worried, all answered that they understood. They swore that no one else would get through.

As he lay panting in pain, trying to catch his breath, Richard hardly heard the commander's yelling. The fight had been brief, but the blows the powerful men from Jagang's team had landed had done damage.

Johnrock knelt down, easing Richard over onto his back. "Ruben, are you all right?"

Richard carefully moved his arms, lifted his knees, and gingerly rolled his foot, testing his throbbing ankle, taking appraisal of his limbs, checking to see if they all worked, checking to see if he could move everything. He hurt all over. He was pretty sure that he wasn't crippled, but he didn't try to get up just yet. He didn't think that right then he could have.

"I think so," he said.

"What was that all about?" Johnrock demanded of Snake-face.

Commander Karg shrugged. "Ja'La dh Jin."

Johnrock paused in surprise at the answer. "Ja'La dh Jin?"

"It's the Game of Life. What do you expect?"

By his deepening frown, Johnrock apparently didn't understand. Richard did.

The Game of Life was about more than just what happened on the field. It included everything that surrounded the game-what came before and what came after. It was strategy and intimidation beforehand, the play itself out on the field, and what resulted from the outcome of that game. Because of the rewards after the game, what took place before became part of the game itself. Ja'La dh Jin wasn't just the game on the field, it encompassed everything.

Life was about survival. If you lived, if you died, all depended on what you did in life. Survival was what mattered. That made everything all a part of the game, just as everything in life mattered. A woman camp follower stabbing a player on an opposing team so that her team would win, painting the men with red paint, or cracking the skull of the point man on the other team in the middle of the night was all part of the game of life.

If you were to live, then you had to fight to live. It was as simple as that. That was the Game of Life. Life and death were the reality that counted, not how someone followed a prescribed set of rules. If you died because you failed to protect yourself, you couldn't cry foul after you were dead. You had to fight for your own life, fight to win, no matter the circumstances.

Commander Karg stood. "Get some rest-both of you. Tomorrow decides if you live or if you die."

The man headed for the ring of guards, yelling at them as he went.

"Thanks, Johnrock," Richard said after the commander had gone. "You showed up just in time."

"I told you that I'd watch out for you."

"You did good, Johnrock."

Johnrock grinned. "You just do good tomorrow. Eh, Ruben?"

Richard nodded as he gulped air. "I promise."

CHAPTER 31

Verna glanced up when the Mord-Sith marched up to the other side of the small desk and came to a halt.

"What is it, Cara?"

"Any word in the journey book?"

Verna sighed heavily as she set down the watch reports she had been studying. They indicated that there was increasing activity surrounding the Ja'La matches down in the Order's encampment. Verna remembered what seemed like a lifetime ago, back at the Palace of the Prophets, when Warren had first told her all about Ja'La Day, about how Emperor Jagang was bringing Ja'La dh Jin to all of the Old World. Like so many things, Warren had studied Ja'La dh Jin and knew a great deal about it.

She supposed that she wasn't so much reading the reports as she was reminiscing about Warren. How she missed him. How she missed so many people who had been lost in this war.

"No, I'm afraid not," Verna said. "I left a message in the journey book in case Ann should happen to take a look in hers, but she hasn't answered, yet."

Cara tapped an insistent finger on the desktop. "It's obvious that something has happened to Nicci and Ann."

"I don't disagree." Verna spread her hands. "But we can't do anything about it if we don't even know what happened to them. What are we to do? Where are we to look? We've searched the palace but the place is so vast that there is no telling how many places we might have overlooked."

Cara's expression was part anger, part worry, and part impatience. With this on top of Richard being nowhere to be found, Verna understood all too well how the woman felt.

"Have your Sisters found anything at all unusual?"

Verna shook her head. "The other Mord-Sith?"

"Nothing," Cara said under her breath as she went back to pacing. She mulled over the situation for a moment, then turned back to Verna. "I still think that whatever happened had to have happened the night they went down to the tomb."

"I'm not saying that you're wrong, Cara, but we're not even sure that they ever made it down to the tombs. What if they changed their mind for some reason and went somewhere else first? What if someone brought a message or something to Ann, and they rushed off somewhere else? What if something happened before they even went down to the tomb?

"I don't think so," Cara said as she folded her arms and paced. "I still think something down there is wrong. Something down in the tombs just feels wrong."

Verna didn't question what could be "wrong." She had already done that to no avail. Cara didn't know what was wrong. She simply had a vague feeling that something was not right down in the tombs.

"Your feeling doesn't give us much to go on. Maybe if it was something a little more specific."