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with the sweet taste of vengeance. Kahlan found that it did little, though,
to quell the fires of her raging anger.
After a brief time, Cara's horse slowed to a canter, and then a walk.
They heard no hoofbeats behind them, only winter's vast silence. After the
crush of people, the noise, and the turbulence of the Imperial Order's camp,
the isolation of the empty grasslands seemed somehow oppressive. Kahlan felt
as if she were a speck of nothing in the middle of nowhere.
Cold and exhausted, Kahlan pulled her fur mantle around her shoulders.
Her legs trembled from the effort finally finished. She felt as if
everything had been washed out of her. Her head slumped forward to rest
against Cara's back. Kahlan was aware of the weight of Richard's sword lying
against her own back.
"Well," Cara said over her shoulder after they had ridden for a time
through the hushed expanse of countryside, "we do this every night for a
year or two, and that should just about wipe them all out."
For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Kahlan almost laughed.
Almost.
By the time Kahlan and Cara rode in among the wounded, the exhausted,
and the sleeping D'Haran troops, it was only a few hours from dawn. Kahlan
had thought they might have to find a safe place out in the grasslands to
sleep and wait for daylight in order to find their way back, but they had
been fortunate; a break in the cloud cover had allowed the stars to show
them the way. In the shimmering sweep of stars alone, they had been able to
see the black drape of mountains at the horizon. With that visual guide,
they were able to make their way far out into the empty country so that they
could safely get around the Imperial Order, and then head back north to
their own troops.
A reception party awaited them. Men rushed up to form cheering rows as
they passed into camp. Kahlan felt a distant sense of pride that she had
given these men what they needed most right then: a measure of retribution.
From the back of Cara's horse, Kahlan lifted a hand to wave at the men she
passed. She smiled for them alone.
Near the area where the horses were picketed, General Meiffert, having
heard the cheering, was waiting impatiently. He trotted over to meet them.
Beside the gate of the temporary corral, one of the soldiers took the reins
to the horse as Kahlan and then Cara jumped down. Kahlan winced at the ache
in her muscles from the recent days of hard riding, and the night of
fighting. Her right arm socket throbbed from the blows she had landed. She
mused to herself that her sword arm never hurt like that in her mock battles
with Richard. For the benefit of anyone watching, she forced herself to walk
as if she had just had a three-day rest.
General Meiffert, looking no worse for the battle he had seen that
night, clapped a fist to his heart. "Mother Confessor, you can't imagine how
relieved I am to see you."
"And I you, General."
He leaned forward. "Please, Mother Confessor, you aren't going to do
anything that foolhardy again, are you?"
"It wasn't foolhardy," Cara said. "I was with her, watching out for
her."
He frowned over at Cara, but didn't argue with her. Kahlan wondered how
one could fight a war without doing anything foolhardy. The entire thing was
foolhardy.
"How many men did we lose?" Kahlan asked instead.
General Meiffert's face split with a grin. "None, Mother Confessor. Can
you believe it? With the Creator's help, they all came back."
"I don't recall the Creator wielding a sword with us," Cara said.
Kahlan was dumbfounded. "That's the best news I could have, General."
"Mother Confessor, I can't tell you what a boost that was to the men.
But, please, you won't do anything like that again, will you?"
"I'm not here to smile and wave and look pretty for the men, General.
I'm here to help them send those murderous bastards into the eternal arms of
the Keeper."
He sighed in resignation. "We have a tent for you. I'm sure you're
tired."
Kahlan nodded and let the general lead her and Cara through the now
quiet camp. Men not sleeping stood and silently saluted with fists to their
hearts. Kahlan tried to smile for them. She could see in their eyes how much
they appreciated what she had done to turn the tide of the grim battle back
a little in their favor. They probably thought she had done it for them.
That was only partly true.
Arriving at a well-guarded group of a half-dozen tents, General
Meiffert gestured to the one in the center.
"This was General Reibisch's tent, Mother Confessor. I had your things
put inside. I thought you should have the best tent. If it bothers you to
sleep in his tent, though, I'll have your belongings moved to anywhere you
wish."
"It will be fine, General." Kahlan took stock of the man's young face,
seeing the shadow of sorrow. She reminded herself that he was about the same
age as she. "We all miss him."
His expression showed only some of the pain she thought he must feel.
"I can't replace a man like that, Mother Confessor. He was not just a great
general, but a great man, too. He taught me a lot and honored me with his
trust. He was the best man I ever served under. I don't want you to have any
illusions about my replacing him. I know I can't."
"No one asked you to. Your best effort is all we expect and will serve
us well, I'm sure."
He smiled at her generosity. "You'll have that, Mother Confessor. I
promise you, you'll have that." He turned to Cara and changed the subject.
"I had your things put in this tent, here, Mistress Cara." It was the one
right beside Kahlan's tent.
Cara scanned the scene, taking note of the patrolling guards. When
Kahlan told her that she was going to go right to bed, and that she should
get some sleep, too, Cara agreed and bade the two of them a good night
before disappearing into her tent.
"I appreciated your help, tonight, General. You should get some sleep,
too."
He bowed his head, turned to leave, but then turned back.
"You know, I always hoped to someday become a general. Ever since I was
a boy, I've dreamed of it. I imagined . . ." He looked away from Kahlan's
eyes. "I guess I imagined it would make me proud and happy." He hooked his
thumbs in his pockets and gazed out over the dark camp, perhaps seeing all
those dreams from his past, or maybe seeing all his new duties.
"It didn't make me feel happy at all," he finally said.
"I know," she answered in sincere sympathy. "This wasn't the way any
good man would want to gain rank, but sometimes challenges arise, and we
must face them." She let out a silent sigh, and tried to envision how he
must feel. "Someday, General, the pride and satisfaction will come. It comes
from doing the job well and knowing that you are making a difference."
He nodded. "I know it felt pretty good, tonight, Mother Confessor, when
I saw you on the back of Cara's horse, returning safely to camp. I look
forward to the day when I see Lord Rahl ride into camp, too." He started
away. "Sleep well. Dawn is in a couple of hours. Then we'll find out what
the new day will bring. I'll have reports ready for you."
--]----
Inside her tent, Zedd was sitting alone, waiting. Kahlan groaned
inwardly.
She was dead tired and didn't want to face the old wizard's
questioning. Sometimes, especially if you were tired, his nettling questions
could become irksome. She knew he meant well, but she was in no mood for it.
She didn't think she could even be civil to him if he started down his road
of a thousand questions. It was so late, and she was so tired, she simply
wished he would let her be.
She stood just inside, saying nothing, watching him as he rose to his
feet. His wavy white hair was more disorderly than usual. His heavy robes
were filthy and spattered with blood. Around his knees the robes were dark
with dried blood.
He gave her a long look, and then enclosed her in his skinny arms. She
just wanted to sleep. He silently held her head to his shoulder. Maybe he
thought she might be about to start crying, but there seemed no tears left.
She felt numb. She supposed it was the constant rage, but she just couldn't
cry anymore. She seemed only able to feel anger.
Zedd finally held her out at arm's length, squeezing her shoulders in
his surprisingly strong fingers. "I just wanted to wait until you were back,
and safe, before I went to bed. I wanted to let my eyes take you in." He
smiled in a sad way. "I'm so very relieved you're safe. Sleep well, Kahlan."
Her bedroll, still tied up with its leather thongs, lay atop a pallet
with a strawfilled mattress. Saddlebags were draped over her pack, sitting
in the corner. Opposite the bed there was a small folding table and chair.
Beside them, a basket with rolls of maps. Another little folding table held
a ewer and basin. A clean towel was draped over the table legs' stretcher
bar.
The tent was spacious, by army standards, but it was still cramped. The
canvas looked heavy enough to keep out most any weather. Lamps, hanging at
each end of the tent from a rod forming the peak of the roof, cast a warm
glow inside the snug tent. Kahlan tried to imagine the burly General
Reibisch pacing in such a small space, tugging his rust-colored beard,
worrying over the problems of an army bigger than many cities.
Zedd looked exhausted. Creases etched an inner anguish on his bony
face. She reminded herself that he had only just learned that his grandson,
the only family he had left in the world, was in the cruel hands of the
enemy.
Besides that, Zedd had been fighting for two days and healing soldiers
at night. She had seen him, when she arrived, staggering to his feet beside
the corpse of what turned out to be General Reibisch. She knew that if Zedd
couldn't save the man, he was beyond saving.
With her fingers, Kahlan combed back her hair and then gestured to the
chair.
"You could sit for a minute, Zedd. Couldn't you?"
He looked at the chair, then at her bedroll. "For a minute, I suppose,
while you get your bed ready. You need some rest."
Kahlan couldn't argue with that. She realized her head was throbbing.
The passions of battle masked little things, like a pounding headache. The
straw-filled mattress looked as good as a feather bed to her right then. She
tossed her wolf-fur mantle and her cloak on the bed. They would keep her
warm.
Without comment, Zedd watched as she unstrapped the Sword of Truth and
pulled it off her back. He had given the weapon to Richard. Kahlan had been
there,
and begged Zedd not to do it, but he said he had no choice, that
Richard was the one. Zedd had been right. Richard was indeed the one.
She felt her face flush when, just before she laid the sword down, she
kissed the top of the hilt, where Richard's hand had so often rested. Zedd,
if he even noticed, said nothing, and she laid the gleaming scabbard and
sword to rest beside her mattress.
In the awkward quiet, Kahlan took off the royal Galean sword. She saw
then that there was blood running down the scabbard. She unstrapped and
removed the layer of light leather armor and laid it beside her pack. When
she leaned the royal sword and scabbard against the plates of leather armor,
she saw then that they were splattered with blood.
She noticed, too, that the leather leg armor had bloody handprints here
and there on it, and there were long gouges in the leather from mens'
fingernails. She remembered men grabbing for her, trying to unhorse her, but
she didn't recall their hands actually clawing at her. The images that
started flooding back threatened to make her nauseated, so she directed her
mind to other things.
"Cara and I crossed over the Rang'Shada mountains, north of Agaden
Reach, and came down through Galea," she said into the uncomfortable
silence.
"I gathered," he said.
She gestured vaguely to suggest the surrounding camp. "I thought I'd
better bring some troops with me."
"We can use them."
Kahlan glanced up at his hazel eyes. "I brought all I could without
waiting. I didn't want to wait."
Zedd nodded. "That was wise."
"Prince Harold wanted to come, but I asked him to gather together a
larger force and then bring them down. If we're to defend the Midlands,
we'll need more troops. He thought that was a good idea."
"Sounds so."
"Prince Harold will be here to help just as soon as he can gather his
army from their defensive positions."
Zedd only nodded.
She cleared her throat. "I wish we could have gotten here sooner."
Zedd shrugged. "You came as fast as possible. You're here, now."
Kahlan turned away to the bedroll. She sank down to her knees and bent
to the work of undoing the leather thongs holding the bedding all rolled up
together. For some reason, the knots looked blurry-she guessed it was
because she was so tired.
She glanced over her shoulder briefly in the dim lamplight and then
went back to picking at the knot. "I suppose you'd like to know how that
Sister of the Dark managed to capture Richard."
He was silent for a moment. His voice finally came, soft and gentle.
"There's time enough for that later, Kahlan. There's no need tonight."
As she picked at the stubborn knot, her hair fell forward over her
shoulder. She had to push it back in order to see what she was doing. The
stupid leather thong was tightly knotted. She wanted to yell at the person
who had tied it, but she had done it up herself and had no one else to
blame.
"She used a maternity spell on me. It links us. She said she could-she
could kill me if Richard didn't do as she said and go with her."
At the news, Zedd only let out a desolate sigh.
"Richard can't kill her, or I die, too."
She waited for his voice behind her. It finally came.
"I've only read about such spells, but from what I know, it sounds as
if she told you the truth of it."
"I have a cut on my mouth. I didn't do it. It happened to me the other
daythrough that link. What happens to her happens to me. I hope Richard
struck her. It was worth it."
"I don't think Richard would do that."
She knew he wouldn't. It was only a wish.
One of the little lamps was flickering, making shadows waver. The other
was hissing softly. Kahlan wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"Richard gave up his freedom to keep me alive. I wish I could die, to
free him, but he made me promise I wouldn't do that."
Kahlan felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Zedd said nothing. It
was the greatest kindness he could have given her at that moment-not burying
her heart under an avalanche of questions.
Enjoying the calming effect of his hand, Kahlan finally managed to get
the knot undone. Zedd sat back in his chair as she unfurled her bedding. The
carving of Spirit was rolled up inside, for safekeeping. Its height was just
right to fit crosswise in her bedroll. Kahlan lifted it out and held it to
her heart a moment. She turned, then, and set Spirit on the little table.
Zedd slowly rose to his feet. He was a collection of bony angles under
his maroon robes. With one arm crooked to point while he gaped at Spirit
standing proudly atop the small table, his lanky body looked as stiff as a
spindly tree in winter.
"Where else did you stop on your way here?" He cast a suspicious look
in her direction. "Have you been looting treasures from palaces?"
She realized then that the look wasn't so much meant to be suspicious,
as teasing. Kahlan ran a finger down Spirit's flowing robes, letting her
gaze follow the strength in the lines of the woman's strong pose. Something
felt so right about the way her head was thrown back, with her fists at her
sides, and her back arched, standing against the invisible power trying to
subdue her.
"No." Kahlan swallowed. "Richard carved it for me."
Zedd's brow drew lower. He stared at the carving for a time before
reaching out a sticklike finger to touch it, as if it were some priceless
antiquity.
"Dear spirits. . ."
Kahlan pretended a smile. "Almost. It's called Spirit, he said. Richard
carved it for me when I was feeling like I would never get better. It helped
me . . ."
In the awful silence, Zedd finally turned from the woman with her fists
at her sides and her head thrown back to peer into Kahlan's eyes. He frowned
in the oddest way.
"It's you," he said half to himself. "Dear spirits . . . the boy carved
a statue of your spirit. I recognize it. It's as plain as day."
Zedd was not only Richard's grandfather-he was now hers, too. He was
not merely the First Wizard. He was also the man who had helped raise
Richard. Zedd had no family left save Richard.
Other than a half sister and brother who were strangers but for blood,
neither did she. She was as alone in the world as was Zedd.
Now, through Richard, Zedd was her family, but even if he wasn't, she
realized he could mean no less to her.
"We'll get him back, dear one," he whispered in tender compassion. His
sticklike hand reverently cupped her face. "We'll get him back."
Everything seemed to be swimming. Kahlan fell into his protective arms
and dissolved into tears.
Warren carefully pulled the snow-laden pine bough aside for her. Kahlan
peered through the gap.
"There," he said in a low voice. "You see?"
Kahlan nodded as she squinted off into the narrow valley far below. The
scene was frosted whitewhite trees, white rocks, white meadows. Enemy troops
moving up the distant valley floor looked like a dark line of ants marching
across powdered sugar.
"I don't think you need to whisper, Warren," Cara said from behind
Kahlan's other shoulder. "They can't hear you. Not from this far."
Warren's blue eyes turned to the Mord-Sith. Cara's red leather would
have stood out like a beacon, were she not sheathed in wolf fur that made
her melt into the background of snow-dusted brush. Kahlan's own fur mantle
was soft and warm against the sides of her face. Sometimes, since Richard
had made it for her, the feel against her skin was evocative of his gentle
caress protecting her and keeping her warm.
"Oh, but their gifted can hear us, Cara, even from this distance, if we
are too vociferous."
Cara's nose wrinkled. "What's that mean?"
"Loud," Kahlan whispered in a way as if to suggest Cara should use a
little more caution and be more quiet.
Cara's face distorted with her displeasure at the thought of magic. She
shifted her weight to her other foot, went back to watching the line of
troops slowly flowing up the valley, and kept silent.
After she'd seen enough, Kahlan gestured, and the three of them started
back through the ankledeep snow. At their elevation in the mountains, they
were right at the base of oppressive gray clouds, making it feel as if they
were looking down from another world. She didn't like the world she had
seen.
They trudged up the slope dense with pine and naked aspen, to the
thickly wooded top of the ridge, where the backbone of rock broke through
the snow here and there like half-buried bones. Their horses waited a good
distance back down off the rocky slope. Farther back down the mountain,
where Warren and Kahlan were sure they would not be detected by any gifted
who might be protecting the Order troops, waited an escort of D'Haran guards
General Meiffert had handpicked to protect Kahlan and the two with her, who
were also protecting her.
"So you see?" Warren asked in little more than a whisper. "They're
still at it-moving more and more men up this way, trying to get around us
without us being aware of it."
Kahlan held up the fur to shelter her face as a light breeze dragged a
curtain of snow past them. At least it wasn't snowing again, yet.
"I don't think so, Warren."
His questioning, handsome face turned her way. "Then what?"
"I think they want it to look like they're sending troops past us so we
will send men way out here after them."
"A diversion?"
"I think so. It's just close enough to us to be likely we would
discover them, yet far enough away and through difficult enough terrain that
it would require us to split our forces in order to do anything about it.
Besides, every one of our scouts came back."
"Isn't that good?"
"Sure it is. But what if they have gifted with them, as you believe?
How is it that not one of our scouts failed to make it back to report these
massive troop movements?"
Warren thought that over a moment as the three of them carefully made
it over a high spot, sliding on their bottoms down the far side of the
slippery sloping rock.
"I think they're fishing," Cara said as her boots thumped down on solid
ground behind them. "Their gifted don't try to net the small fry, hoping to
draw bigger fish close."
Kahlan brushed the snow from her backside. "Like us."
Warren looked skeptical. "You think this is all just some sort of
elaborate trap to snare officers or gifted?"
"Well, no," Kahlan said. "That would only be a bonus for them. I think
their main intent is to spur us into splitting our forces to deal with what
they want us to believe is this threat."
Warren scratched his head of curly blond hair. His blue eyes twitched
back in the direction the three of them had come down off the ridge, as if
trying to look again at what he could not see.
"But if they're sending great numbers of troops north-even if it is to
draw away some of our forces-shouldn't that concern us?"
"Of course it should," Kahlan said. "If it were true."
Warren glanced over at her as they struggled through deeper snow
drifted under crags they passed beneath on their way up a steep little rise.
Her legs were weary with the effort. Warren held out his hand to help her up
a high step. He did the same for Cara. Cara gestured that she didn't need
the hand, but she didn't level a scowl at him, either. Kahlan was always
pleased to see evidence that Cara was learning that offers of modest aid
were simply a courtesy and not necessarily accusations of weakness.
"Then I'm confused," Warren said as he panted.
Kahlan came to a halt to let them all catch their breath. She lifted an
arm back toward the enemy troops off beyond the ridge.
"Yes, if it were true that great numbers of troops were going out
around us and heading north, that would concern us. But I don't believe they
are."
Warren swiped a blond lock off his forehead. "You don't think all those
men are heading north? Where, then?"
"Nowhere," Kahlan said.
"That many men? You've got to be joking."
She smiled at the look on his face. "I believe it's a trick. I think
it's only a small number of men."
"But the scouts have been reporting mass numbers of men moving north
for three days now!"
"Hush," Cara warned, getting even with an air of mock scolding.
Warren covered his mouth with both hands when he realized he'd shouted.
They had their breath back, so Kahlan started out again, taking them
over the top of the little rise onto flatter ground, following their
footsteps back the way they had come.
"Remember what the scouts said yesterday?" she asked him. "They tried
to go over to the mountains on the other side to have a look at the lay of
the land beyond and the enemy troops moving north through it, but the passes
were too heavily guarded?"
"I remember."
"I think I've just figured out why." She gestured by looping her hand
around as she went on. "I think what we're seeing is a relatively small
group of the same men just going around in a big circle. We're only seeing
them at the point where they pass up this valley. We see troops marching by
continuously for days and we assume they're moving a lot of men, but I think
it's just a circle of the same ones going round and round."
Warren stopped to stare at her. His face turned grave at the
implications. "So if we're tricked into thinking they're moving an army up
this way, then we will split our army in response and send part of them out
after this phantom force."
"We're already outnumbered," Cara said as she nodded to herself, "but
we have the advantage of defending terrain that suits our purpose. However,
if they could reduce our numbers substantially simply by getting us to send
a large percentage off on some mission, first, their entire army might
finally be able to overrun a smaller number of remaining defenders."
"Makes sense." Warren stroked his chin in thought, looking back at the
ridge. "What if you're wrong?"
Kahlan turned to look back toward the ridge, too. "Well, if I'm wrong,
then. . ."
Kahlan frowned at a fat old maple tree not ten feet away. She thought
she saw the bark move. The dusting of snow on the scaly gray, furrowed bark
began disappearing, melting away in an ever widening area. Like dross
floating on the surface of a boiling cauldron, the bark moved.
Kahlan gasped as Warren seized her and Cara by the collar and flung
them both down on their backs. The wind knocked from her lungs, Kahlan tried
to sit up, but Warren dived to the ground between them, pinning them both
down.
Before Kahlan had a chance to get her breath or ask what was wrong,
blinding light flashed in the still woods. A deafening boom rent the air and
jolted the ground beneath her. Splintered wood, from toothpick-size
fragments to fence-post-size sections, howled past inches above her face.
Huge sections of wood thanked as they rebounded off rocks. Others spun,
caroming off tree trunks. Pieces tumbling along the ground kicking up snow
peppered with frozen chunks of dirt. The air went white as the shock from
the blast blew a wall of snow up into the air.
If any of them had been standing, they would have been torn to shreds.
As soon as the last pieces of timber, trailing smoke, thudded to
ground, Warren rolled toward her. "Gifted," he whispered.
Kahlan frowned at him. "What?"
"Gifted," he whispered again. "They focused their power to boil the
frozen tree inside and make it explode. That's how we lost so many men when
we gathered back in that valley during the first battle, back just before
you came to us. They surprised us."
Kahlan nodded. She peeked up, but saw no one. She glanced over to see
if Cara was all right.
"Where's Cara," she asked in an urgent whisper.
Warren cautiously peered off, searching the empty scene. Kahlan lifted
herself a little on an elbow and saw only the disturbed snow where Cara had
been.
"Dear Creator," Warren said. "You don't suppose they've snatched her,
do you?"
Kahlan saw tracks where there had been none before, leading off to the
side. "I think-"
A scream that would have made a brave man blanch reverberated through
the trees. It trailed off in an agonizing echo.
:,Cara?" Warren asked.
"I don't think so."
Kahlan carefully sat up and saw that a hole had been torn open in the
crowded growth of the forest crown, letting harsh light penetrate the shaded
woodland sanctuary below. The ground all around was littered with splintered
wood, broken branches, huge limbs fallen to ground, and boughs ripped from
other trees. Gouges down through the white layer of snow into the dark
forest floor radiated from a ragged bowl-shaped depression where the tree
had been. Fragments of wood and root lay on the ground everywhere and were
even caught up in the surrounding trees.
Warren put a hand to her shoulder, urging Kahlan to stay down as he
rolled into a crouch. She flipped over onto her stomach and cautiously rose
up onto her hands and knees.
Kahlan jumped up and pointed. "There."
Through the trees, she saw Cara returning. The Mord-Sith was herding a
small man in obvious pain along before her. Each time he stumbled and fell,
she kicked him in the ribs, rolling him through the snow before her. He
cried out, his words coming as a whining cry that Kahlan couldn't make out
because of the distance. The words weren't hard to imagine, though.
Cara had captured one of the gifted. It was for tasks such as this that
Mord-Sith had been created. For someone with the gift, trying to use magic
against a Mord Sith was a mistake that cost them their control over their
own ability.
Kahlan stood, brushing snow from herself. Warren, his violet robes
crusted with snow, rose beside her, transfixed by the sight. This was one of
the wizards responsible for killing so many men when the D'Harans had
gathered in the valley after the Order began moving north. This was the
vicious animal who did Jagang's bidding. He didn't seem like a vicious
animal, now, as he wept and begged before the implacable captor driving him
on before her.
He was a bundle of rags, flinging out around him as he rolled through
the snow with a final mighty kick that deposited him at Kahlan and Warren's
feet. He lay facedown, whimpering like a child.
Cara bent, seized him by his tangled mat of dark hair, and yanked him
to his feet.
It was a child.
"Lyle?" Warren stared incredulously. "Lyle? It was you?"
Tears ran from wintery eyes. He wiped his nose on the back of a
tattered sleeve as he glared at Warren. Young Lyle looked to be a boy of
perhaps ten or twelve years, but since Warren knew him, Kahlan realized he
was probably from the Palace of the Prophets, too. Lyle was a young wizard.
Warren reached out to cup the boy's bloody chin. Kahlan snatched
Warren's wrist. The boy lunged to bite Warren's hand. Cara was quicker. She
snatched him back by the hair as she rammed her Agiel into his back.
Shrieking in pain, he crumpled to the ground. She kicked the injured
lad in the ribs.
Warren held his hands out, imploring. "Cars, don't-"
Her icy blue eyes turned up to challenge him. "He tried to kill us. He
tried to kill the Mother Confessor."
She ground her teeth and, while looking Warren in the eye, kicked the
whimpering boy again.
Warren licked his lips. "I know . . . but..."
"But what?"
"He's so young. It isn't right."
"And so it would be better if we just let him kill us? Would that make
it right for you?"
Kahlan knew Cara was right. As difficult as it was to witness, Cara was
right. If they died, how many men, women, and children would the Imperial
Order go on to slaughter? Child though he was, he was a tool of the Order.
Nonetheless, Kahlan gestured Cara that that was enough. When Kahlan
signaled, Cara again seized his tangled mat of dirty hair in her fist and
hauled him to his feet. With Cara's thighs at his back, he stood shivering,
blood running down his face, pulling short, ragged breaths.
As Kahlan stared down into terrified, tear-filled brown eyes, she put
on her Confessor's face, the face her mother had taught her when she was but
a little girl, the face that masked her inner tumult.
"I know you're, there, Jagang," she said in a quiet voice devoid of
emotion.
The boy's bloody mouth turned up in a smile that was not his own.
"You made a mistake, Jagang. We'll have an army soon on its way to stop
them."
The boy smiled a vacant bloody smile, but said nothing.
"Lyle," Warren said, his voice brittle with anguish, "you can be free
of the dream walker. You must only swear loyalty to Richard and you will be
flee. Believe me, Lyle. Try. I know what it's like. Try, Lyle, and I swear
I'll help you."
Kahlan thought that, with Warren there, a man he knew, he might throw
himself toward the unexpected light coming from the open dungeon door. The
boy behind the smile that was not his own watched Warren with longing that
slowly curdled to loathing. This was a child who had seen the struggle for
freedom bring horror and death and knew that servile obedience brought
rewards and life. He was not old enough to understand what more there was to
it.
With a gentle touch of her fingers, Kahlan urged Warren to back away.
He reluctantly complied.
"This isn't the first of Jagang's wizards we've captured," she said,
offhandedly, to Warren. Her words, though, were not meant for Warren.
Kahlan looked up into Cara's stern blue eyes and then glanced off to
the side, hoping the Mord-Sith understood the instruction.
"Marlin Pickard," Kahlan said, as if recalling the name for Warren, but
her words were still meant for Cara. "He was grown, and even with this
pompous pretend emperor directing him, Marlin still wasn't able to give us
much trouble."
Marlin had in fact given them a great deal of trouble. He had nearly
killed Cara and Kahlan both. Kahlan hoped Cara remembered how tenuous was
her control over someone possessed by the dream walker.
The mood in the quiet woods was still and tense as the boy glared up at
Kahlan.
"We discovered your scheme in time, Jagang. You made a mistake thinking
you could get by our scouts. I hope you're with those men, so that when we
wipe them out we can cut your throat."
The bloody grin widened. "A woman like you is wasted on the side of the
weak," the boy said in the menacing voice of a man. "You'd have a much
better time serving strength, and the Order."
"I'm afraid my husband likes me right where I am."
"And where is your husband, darlin? I was hoping to say hello."
"He's around," Kahlan said in the same dispassionate voice.
She saw Warren, when she had spoken the words, move in a way that was a
little too much like surprise.
"Is he, now?" The boy's eyes turned from Warren, back to Kahlan. "Why
is it I don't believe you?"
She wanted to kick the boy's teeth in as she watched his cruel grin.
Kahlan's mind raced, trying to figure out what Jagang could possibly know,
and what he was trying to discover.
"You'll see him soon enough, when we get this poor child back to camp.
I'm sure Richard Rahl will want to laugh in your cowardly face when I tell
him how we discovered the great emperor's plan to sneak troops north. He'll
want to personally tell you what a fool you are."
The boy tried to take a step toward her, but Cara's fist in his hair
restrained him. He was a cougar on a leash, still testing its chains. The
bloody smile remained, but it was not as self-satisfied as it had been. In
the brown eyes, Kahlan thought she saw hesitation.
"Ah, but I don't believe you," he said, as if losing interest. "We both
know he's not there at all. Don't we, darlin?"
Kahlan resolved to take a risk. "You'll see him for yourself, soon
enough." She made to look as if she were going to turn away, but turned back
to him instead.
Kahlan let a sarcastic smile taint her lips. "Oh-you must mean Nicci?"
The smile vanished from the boy's face. The brow drew down, but he
managed to keep any anger out of his voice.
"Nicci? I don't know what you're talking about, darlin."
"Sister of the Dark? Shapely? Blond hair? Blue eyes? Black dress?
Surely, you would remember a woman that hauntingly beautiful. Or, besides
your other shortcomings, are you also a eunuch?"
The eyes watched, and in them Kahlan could see careful calculations
weighing her every word. But it was Nicci's words about Jagang that Kahlan
was remembering.
"I know who Nicci is. I know every private inch of her. One day, I will
come to know you as intimately as I know Nicci."
Such an obscene threat was somehow more chilling, coming as it did from
the
mouth of a boy. It made her sick to her stomach to hear a child express
Jagang's vile thoughts.
The boy's arm gestured for his master. "One of my beauties, and quite
the lethal lady, besides." Kahlan thought she detected in Jagang's gravelly
growl a hint of the false bravado of a bluff. Almost in afterthought, he
added, "You haven't really seen her."
Kahlan heard in the assertion the ghost of a question he dared not ask,
and knew by it that there was something more to this. She wished she knew
what.
She shrugged again. "Lethal? I wouldn't know."
He licked the blood from his lips. "That's what I thought."
"I wouldn't know because she didn't seem all that lethal. She didn't
manage to harm any of us."
The grin returned. "You lie, darlin. If you really saw Nicci, she would
have killed at least some of you, even if she didn't manage to kill you all.
You couldn't best that one without her scratching someone's eyes out,
first."
"Really? So sure, are we?"
The boy let out a belly laugh. "Darlin, I know Nicci. I'm sure."
Kahlan smiled her contempt into the boy's brown eyes. "You know I'm
telling you the truth."
"Really?" he said, still chuckling. "How's that?"
"You know it's the truth because she's one of your slaves, so you
should be able to enter her mind. You can't, though. I know why you can't.
Even though you aren't too bright, I don't suppose you'll need to think too
long to imagine why not."
Fierce rage fired the boy's eyes. "I don't believe you."
Kahlan shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"If you saw her, then where is she now?"
As she turned her back on him, Kahlan told him the brutal, bitter truth
and let him interpret it his own way. "Last I saw her, she was on her way
into oblivion."
Kahlan heard the bellow behind her. She spun back to see Cara trying to
stop him with her Agiel. Kahlan heard the bone in his arm snap. It didn't
even slow him. The boy, in a wild rage, his hands clawed, his teeth bared,
lunged for Kahlan.
Half turned back to him, Kahlan lifted her hand against the full weight
of the boy crashing toward her as he leaped for her throat. His small chest
contacted her hand. His feet were clear of the ground. It felt not as if he
were throwing himself at her, but no more than dandelion fluff, floating to
her on a breath of air.
Time was hers.
It was not necessary for Kahlan to invoke her birthright, but merely to
withdraw her restraint of it. Her feelings could provide her no safe haven;
only the truth would serve her now.
This was not a small boy, hurt, alone, afraid.
This was the enemy.
The inner violence of her power's cold coiled force slipping its bounds
was breathtaking. It surged up from that deep dark core within, obediently
inundating every fiber of her being.
She could count each small rib under her fingers.
She contained no hate, no rage, no horror . . . no sorrow. In that
infinitesimal spark of time, her mind was in a void where there was no
emotion, only the allconsuming rush of time suspended.
He had no chance. He was hers.
Kahlan did not hesitate.
She unleashed her power.
From an ethereal state as part of her innermost essence, that power
became all.
Thunder without sound jolted the air-exquisite, violent, and for that
pristine instant, sovereign.
The boy's face was twisted by the hate of the man who had controlled
him. In that singular moment, if she was the absence of emotion, then he was
the embodiment of it. Kahlan stared back into that lost child's face,
knowing that he saw only her merciless eyes.
His mind, who he was, who he had been, was already gone.
Trees all around shook from the force of the concussion. Snow dropped
from branches and boughs. The terrible shock to the air lifted a ring of
snow that grew around the two of them in an ever-expanding circle.
Kahlan had known that Jagang could slip into and out of a person's mind
between thought, when time itself did not exist. She had no choice but to do
as she had done. She could not afford to hesitate. With Jagang in a person's
mind, even Cara could not control them.
Jagang had burned his bridges behind him as he fled the young mind.
The boy fell dead at Kahlan's feet.
Kahlan swayed on her feet as she stood over the crumbled body of the
boy, feeling her emotions flood back in. As always happened, using her
Confessor's power left her drained and exhausted. In the aftermath, the
forest sat in silent judgment. Here and there, the virgin snow around the
small body exhibited its red evidence.
Only then did Kahlan even pause to consider if she might have killed
Cara, too.
A Mord-Sith would not live long after the touch of a Confessor. There
had been no choice. She had done her best to warn Cara, to let her know to
get clear, but in the end Kahlan couldn't allow her decision to be
influenced by any consideration other than what had to be done. Hesitation
could have meant disaster.
Now that it was over, though, dread roiled through.
Kahlan looked around, and to the right saw Cara sprawled in the snow.
If she had been touching the boy when Kahlan unleashed her power . . .
Cara groaned. Kahlan staggered to her and dropped to a knee. She
clutched the fur at Cara's shoulder and with a mighty effort pulled her
over.
"Cara-are you all right?"
Cara squinted up with a look of disgust working its way to the surface
of pain. "Well of course I'm all right. You didn't think I would be foolish
enough to hang on to him, did you?"
Kahlan smiled in thankful relief. "No, of course not. I only thought
you might have broken your neck jumping away."
Cara spat snow and dirt. "Nearly did."
Warren helped them both to their feet. Grimacing, he rubbed his
shoulders and then his elbows. From what Kahlan had often been told, being
too close to a Confessor unleashing her power was a painful experience,
sending a shock of agony through every joint. Fortunately, it did no real
damage and the suffering faded quickly.
As Warren glanced over at the dead boy, she knew that there was other
pain that would not leave so quickly.
"Dear Creator," Warren whispered to himself. He looked back at Kahlan
and Cara. "He was just a boy. Was it really necessary-"
"Yes," Kahlan said in a forceful voice. "I'm positive. Cara and I have
encountered this situation before-with Marlin."
"But Marlin was grown. Lyle was so small . . . so young. What real
harm-"
"Warren, don't start down the path of what-might-have-been. Jagang
controlled his mind, just as he controlled Marlin's mind. We know about
this. He was a deadly threat."
"If I couldn't hold him," Cara said, "nothing could."
Warren sighed in misery. He sank to his knees at the boy's side. Warren
whispered a prayer as his fingers stroked the boy's temple.
"I guess the blame rightly lies at Jagang's feet." Warren stood and
brushed the snow from his knees. "Ultimately, Jagang is the one who brought
this about."
Kahlan could see the distant figures of their men, rushing up the
hillside to rescue her. She started down toward them.
"If it pleases you to think so."
Cara stayed right with her. Warren struggled through the snow to catch
up. He snatched Kahlan's arm and pulled her to a stop.
"You mean Ann, don't you?"
Kahlan schooled her anger as she studied Warren's blue eyes.
"Warren, you were a victim of that woman, too. You were taken to the
Palace of the Prophets when you were young, weren't you?"
"I guess so, but-"
"But nothing. They came and took you. They came and took that poor dead
child back there." Kahlan's fingernails dug into her palms. "They came and
took Richard."
Warren pressed his hand gently to the side of Kahlan's arm. "I know how
it seems. Prophecy is often-"
"There!" Kahlan angrily pointed back at the corpse. "There is prophecy!
Death and misery-all in the sacred name of prophecy!"
Warren didn't try to answer her rage.
Kahlan forced control into her voice, if not the emotion behind it.
"How many are going to die needlessly in a perverted devotion to seeing
prophecy carried out? Had Ann not sent Verna here for Richard, none of this
would be happening."
"How do you know that? Kahlan, I can understand how you feel, but how
can you be sure?"
"The barrier stood for three thousand years. It could only be brought
down by a wizard born with both sides of the gift. There has been none until
Richard. Ann sent Verna to get him. Had she not, the barrier would still be
there. Jagang and the Order would be on the other side. The Midlands would
be safe. That boy would be playing ball somewhere."
"Kahlan, it's not so simple as you make it seem." Warren opened his
hands in an expression of frustration. "I don't want to argue this with you,
but I want you to understand that prophecy gets fulfilled in many ways. It
often seeks its own solution. It could be that had Ann not sent for Richard,
he would have, for some other reason, ventured down there and brought down
the barrier. Who is to know the reason? Don't you see? It could be that it
was bound to happen, and Ann was simply the means. If not her, then
to quell the fires of her raging anger.
After a brief time, Cara's horse slowed to a canter, and then a walk.
They heard no hoofbeats behind them, only winter's vast silence. After the
crush of people, the noise, and the turbulence of the Imperial Order's camp,
the isolation of the empty grasslands seemed somehow oppressive. Kahlan felt
as if she were a speck of nothing in the middle of nowhere.
Cold and exhausted, Kahlan pulled her fur mantle around her shoulders.
Her legs trembled from the effort finally finished. She felt as if
everything had been washed out of her. Her head slumped forward to rest
against Cara's back. Kahlan was aware of the weight of Richard's sword lying
against her own back.
"Well," Cara said over her shoulder after they had ridden for a time
through the hushed expanse of countryside, "we do this every night for a
year or two, and that should just about wipe them all out."
For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Kahlan almost laughed.
Almost.
By the time Kahlan and Cara rode in among the wounded, the exhausted,
and the sleeping D'Haran troops, it was only a few hours from dawn. Kahlan
had thought they might have to find a safe place out in the grasslands to
sleep and wait for daylight in order to find their way back, but they had
been fortunate; a break in the cloud cover had allowed the stars to show
them the way. In the shimmering sweep of stars alone, they had been able to
see the black drape of mountains at the horizon. With that visual guide,
they were able to make their way far out into the empty country so that they
could safely get around the Imperial Order, and then head back north to
their own troops.
A reception party awaited them. Men rushed up to form cheering rows as
they passed into camp. Kahlan felt a distant sense of pride that she had
given these men what they needed most right then: a measure of retribution.
From the back of Cara's horse, Kahlan lifted a hand to wave at the men she
passed. She smiled for them alone.
Near the area where the horses were picketed, General Meiffert, having
heard the cheering, was waiting impatiently. He trotted over to meet them.
Beside the gate of the temporary corral, one of the soldiers took the reins
to the horse as Kahlan and then Cara jumped down. Kahlan winced at the ache
in her muscles from the recent days of hard riding, and the night of
fighting. Her right arm socket throbbed from the blows she had landed. She
mused to herself that her sword arm never hurt like that in her mock battles
with Richard. For the benefit of anyone watching, she forced herself to walk
as if she had just had a three-day rest.
General Meiffert, looking no worse for the battle he had seen that
night, clapped a fist to his heart. "Mother Confessor, you can't imagine how
relieved I am to see you."
"And I you, General."
He leaned forward. "Please, Mother Confessor, you aren't going to do
anything that foolhardy again, are you?"
"It wasn't foolhardy," Cara said. "I was with her, watching out for
her."
He frowned over at Cara, but didn't argue with her. Kahlan wondered how
one could fight a war without doing anything foolhardy. The entire thing was
foolhardy.
"How many men did we lose?" Kahlan asked instead.
General Meiffert's face split with a grin. "None, Mother Confessor. Can
you believe it? With the Creator's help, they all came back."
"I don't recall the Creator wielding a sword with us," Cara said.
Kahlan was dumbfounded. "That's the best news I could have, General."
"Mother Confessor, I can't tell you what a boost that was to the men.
But, please, you won't do anything like that again, will you?"
"I'm not here to smile and wave and look pretty for the men, General.
I'm here to help them send those murderous bastards into the eternal arms of
the Keeper."
He sighed in resignation. "We have a tent for you. I'm sure you're
tired."
Kahlan nodded and let the general lead her and Cara through the now
quiet camp. Men not sleeping stood and silently saluted with fists to their
hearts. Kahlan tried to smile for them. She could see in their eyes how much
they appreciated what she had done to turn the tide of the grim battle back
a little in their favor. They probably thought she had done it for them.
That was only partly true.
Arriving at a well-guarded group of a half-dozen tents, General
Meiffert gestured to the one in the center.
"This was General Reibisch's tent, Mother Confessor. I had your things
put inside. I thought you should have the best tent. If it bothers you to
sleep in his tent, though, I'll have your belongings moved to anywhere you
wish."
"It will be fine, General." Kahlan took stock of the man's young face,
seeing the shadow of sorrow. She reminded herself that he was about the same
age as she. "We all miss him."
His expression showed only some of the pain she thought he must feel.
"I can't replace a man like that, Mother Confessor. He was not just a great
general, but a great man, too. He taught me a lot and honored me with his
trust. He was the best man I ever served under. I don't want you to have any
illusions about my replacing him. I know I can't."
"No one asked you to. Your best effort is all we expect and will serve
us well, I'm sure."
He smiled at her generosity. "You'll have that, Mother Confessor. I
promise you, you'll have that." He turned to Cara and changed the subject.
"I had your things put in this tent, here, Mistress Cara." It was the one
right beside Kahlan's tent.
Cara scanned the scene, taking note of the patrolling guards. When
Kahlan told her that she was going to go right to bed, and that she should
get some sleep, too, Cara agreed and bade the two of them a good night
before disappearing into her tent.
"I appreciated your help, tonight, General. You should get some sleep,
too."
He bowed his head, turned to leave, but then turned back.
"You know, I always hoped to someday become a general. Ever since I was
a boy, I've dreamed of it. I imagined . . ." He looked away from Kahlan's
eyes. "I guess I imagined it would make me proud and happy." He hooked his
thumbs in his pockets and gazed out over the dark camp, perhaps seeing all
those dreams from his past, or maybe seeing all his new duties.
"It didn't make me feel happy at all," he finally said.
"I know," she answered in sincere sympathy. "This wasn't the way any
good man would want to gain rank, but sometimes challenges arise, and we
must face them." She let out a silent sigh, and tried to envision how he
must feel. "Someday, General, the pride and satisfaction will come. It comes
from doing the job well and knowing that you are making a difference."
He nodded. "I know it felt pretty good, tonight, Mother Confessor, when
I saw you on the back of Cara's horse, returning safely to camp. I look
forward to the day when I see Lord Rahl ride into camp, too." He started
away. "Sleep well. Dawn is in a couple of hours. Then we'll find out what
the new day will bring. I'll have reports ready for you."
--]----
Inside her tent, Zedd was sitting alone, waiting. Kahlan groaned
inwardly.
She was dead tired and didn't want to face the old wizard's
questioning. Sometimes, especially if you were tired, his nettling questions
could become irksome. She knew he meant well, but she was in no mood for it.
She didn't think she could even be civil to him if he started down his road
of a thousand questions. It was so late, and she was so tired, she simply
wished he would let her be.
She stood just inside, saying nothing, watching him as he rose to his
feet. His wavy white hair was more disorderly than usual. His heavy robes
were filthy and spattered with blood. Around his knees the robes were dark
with dried blood.
He gave her a long look, and then enclosed her in his skinny arms. She
just wanted to sleep. He silently held her head to his shoulder. Maybe he
thought she might be about to start crying, but there seemed no tears left.
She felt numb. She supposed it was the constant rage, but she just couldn't
cry anymore. She seemed only able to feel anger.
Zedd finally held her out at arm's length, squeezing her shoulders in
his surprisingly strong fingers. "I just wanted to wait until you were back,
and safe, before I went to bed. I wanted to let my eyes take you in." He
smiled in a sad way. "I'm so very relieved you're safe. Sleep well, Kahlan."
Her bedroll, still tied up with its leather thongs, lay atop a pallet
with a strawfilled mattress. Saddlebags were draped over her pack, sitting
in the corner. Opposite the bed there was a small folding table and chair.
Beside them, a basket with rolls of maps. Another little folding table held
a ewer and basin. A clean towel was draped over the table legs' stretcher
bar.
The tent was spacious, by army standards, but it was still cramped. The
canvas looked heavy enough to keep out most any weather. Lamps, hanging at
each end of the tent from a rod forming the peak of the roof, cast a warm
glow inside the snug tent. Kahlan tried to imagine the burly General
Reibisch pacing in such a small space, tugging his rust-colored beard,
worrying over the problems of an army bigger than many cities.
Zedd looked exhausted. Creases etched an inner anguish on his bony
face. She reminded herself that he had only just learned that his grandson,
the only family he had left in the world, was in the cruel hands of the
enemy.
Besides that, Zedd had been fighting for two days and healing soldiers
at night. She had seen him, when she arrived, staggering to his feet beside
the corpse of what turned out to be General Reibisch. She knew that if Zedd
couldn't save the man, he was beyond saving.
With her fingers, Kahlan combed back her hair and then gestured to the
chair.
"You could sit for a minute, Zedd. Couldn't you?"
He looked at the chair, then at her bedroll. "For a minute, I suppose,
while you get your bed ready. You need some rest."
Kahlan couldn't argue with that. She realized her head was throbbing.
The passions of battle masked little things, like a pounding headache. The
straw-filled mattress looked as good as a feather bed to her right then. She
tossed her wolf-fur mantle and her cloak on the bed. They would keep her
warm.
Without comment, Zedd watched as she unstrapped the Sword of Truth and
pulled it off her back. He had given the weapon to Richard. Kahlan had been
there,
and begged Zedd not to do it, but he said he had no choice, that
Richard was the one. Zedd had been right. Richard was indeed the one.
She felt her face flush when, just before she laid the sword down, she
kissed the top of the hilt, where Richard's hand had so often rested. Zedd,
if he even noticed, said nothing, and she laid the gleaming scabbard and
sword to rest beside her mattress.
In the awkward quiet, Kahlan took off the royal Galean sword. She saw
then that there was blood running down the scabbard. She unstrapped and
removed the layer of light leather armor and laid it beside her pack. When
she leaned the royal sword and scabbard against the plates of leather armor,
she saw then that they were splattered with blood.
She noticed, too, that the leather leg armor had bloody handprints here
and there on it, and there were long gouges in the leather from mens'
fingernails. She remembered men grabbing for her, trying to unhorse her, but
she didn't recall their hands actually clawing at her. The images that
started flooding back threatened to make her nauseated, so she directed her
mind to other things.
"Cara and I crossed over the Rang'Shada mountains, north of Agaden
Reach, and came down through Galea," she said into the uncomfortable
silence.
"I gathered," he said.
She gestured vaguely to suggest the surrounding camp. "I thought I'd
better bring some troops with me."
"We can use them."
Kahlan glanced up at his hazel eyes. "I brought all I could without
waiting. I didn't want to wait."
Zedd nodded. "That was wise."
"Prince Harold wanted to come, but I asked him to gather together a
larger force and then bring them down. If we're to defend the Midlands,
we'll need more troops. He thought that was a good idea."
"Sounds so."
"Prince Harold will be here to help just as soon as he can gather his
army from their defensive positions."
Zedd only nodded.
She cleared her throat. "I wish we could have gotten here sooner."
Zedd shrugged. "You came as fast as possible. You're here, now."
Kahlan turned away to the bedroll. She sank down to her knees and bent
to the work of undoing the leather thongs holding the bedding all rolled up
together. For some reason, the knots looked blurry-she guessed it was
because she was so tired.
She glanced over her shoulder briefly in the dim lamplight and then
went back to picking at the knot. "I suppose you'd like to know how that
Sister of the Dark managed to capture Richard."
He was silent for a moment. His voice finally came, soft and gentle.
"There's time enough for that later, Kahlan. There's no need tonight."
As she picked at the stubborn knot, her hair fell forward over her
shoulder. She had to push it back in order to see what she was doing. The
stupid leather thong was tightly knotted. She wanted to yell at the person
who had tied it, but she had done it up herself and had no one else to
blame.
"She used a maternity spell on me. It links us. She said she could-she
could kill me if Richard didn't do as she said and go with her."
At the news, Zedd only let out a desolate sigh.
"Richard can't kill her, or I die, too."
She waited for his voice behind her. It finally came.
"I've only read about such spells, but from what I know, it sounds as
if she told you the truth of it."
"I have a cut on my mouth. I didn't do it. It happened to me the other
daythrough that link. What happens to her happens to me. I hope Richard
struck her. It was worth it."
"I don't think Richard would do that."
She knew he wouldn't. It was only a wish.
One of the little lamps was flickering, making shadows waver. The other
was hissing softly. Kahlan wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"Richard gave up his freedom to keep me alive. I wish I could die, to
free him, but he made me promise I wouldn't do that."
Kahlan felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Zedd said nothing. It
was the greatest kindness he could have given her at that moment-not burying
her heart under an avalanche of questions.
Enjoying the calming effect of his hand, Kahlan finally managed to get
the knot undone. Zedd sat back in his chair as she unfurled her bedding. The
carving of Spirit was rolled up inside, for safekeeping. Its height was just
right to fit crosswise in her bedroll. Kahlan lifted it out and held it to
her heart a moment. She turned, then, and set Spirit on the little table.
Zedd slowly rose to his feet. He was a collection of bony angles under
his maroon robes. With one arm crooked to point while he gaped at Spirit
standing proudly atop the small table, his lanky body looked as stiff as a
spindly tree in winter.
"Where else did you stop on your way here?" He cast a suspicious look
in her direction. "Have you been looting treasures from palaces?"
She realized then that the look wasn't so much meant to be suspicious,
as teasing. Kahlan ran a finger down Spirit's flowing robes, letting her
gaze follow the strength in the lines of the woman's strong pose. Something
felt so right about the way her head was thrown back, with her fists at her
sides, and her back arched, standing against the invisible power trying to
subdue her.
"No." Kahlan swallowed. "Richard carved it for me."
Zedd's brow drew lower. He stared at the carving for a time before
reaching out a sticklike finger to touch it, as if it were some priceless
antiquity.
"Dear spirits. . ."
Kahlan pretended a smile. "Almost. It's called Spirit, he said. Richard
carved it for me when I was feeling like I would never get better. It helped
me . . ."
In the awful silence, Zedd finally turned from the woman with her fists
at her sides and her head thrown back to peer into Kahlan's eyes. He frowned
in the oddest way.
"It's you," he said half to himself. "Dear spirits . . . the boy carved
a statue of your spirit. I recognize it. It's as plain as day."
Zedd was not only Richard's grandfather-he was now hers, too. He was
not merely the First Wizard. He was also the man who had helped raise
Richard. Zedd had no family left save Richard.
Other than a half sister and brother who were strangers but for blood,
neither did she. She was as alone in the world as was Zedd.
Now, through Richard, Zedd was her family, but even if he wasn't, she
realized he could mean no less to her.
"We'll get him back, dear one," he whispered in tender compassion. His
sticklike hand reverently cupped her face. "We'll get him back."
Everything seemed to be swimming. Kahlan fell into his protective arms
and dissolved into tears.
Warren carefully pulled the snow-laden pine bough aside for her. Kahlan
peered through the gap.
"There," he said in a low voice. "You see?"
Kahlan nodded as she squinted off into the narrow valley far below. The
scene was frosted whitewhite trees, white rocks, white meadows. Enemy troops
moving up the distant valley floor looked like a dark line of ants marching
across powdered sugar.
"I don't think you need to whisper, Warren," Cara said from behind
Kahlan's other shoulder. "They can't hear you. Not from this far."
Warren's blue eyes turned to the Mord-Sith. Cara's red leather would
have stood out like a beacon, were she not sheathed in wolf fur that made
her melt into the background of snow-dusted brush. Kahlan's own fur mantle
was soft and warm against the sides of her face. Sometimes, since Richard
had made it for her, the feel against her skin was evocative of his gentle
caress protecting her and keeping her warm.
"Oh, but their gifted can hear us, Cara, even from this distance, if we
are too vociferous."
Cara's nose wrinkled. "What's that mean?"
"Loud," Kahlan whispered in a way as if to suggest Cara should use a
little more caution and be more quiet.
Cara's face distorted with her displeasure at the thought of magic. She
shifted her weight to her other foot, went back to watching the line of
troops slowly flowing up the valley, and kept silent.
After she'd seen enough, Kahlan gestured, and the three of them started
back through the ankledeep snow. At their elevation in the mountains, they
were right at the base of oppressive gray clouds, making it feel as if they
were looking down from another world. She didn't like the world she had
seen.
They trudged up the slope dense with pine and naked aspen, to the
thickly wooded top of the ridge, where the backbone of rock broke through
the snow here and there like half-buried bones. Their horses waited a good
distance back down off the rocky slope. Farther back down the mountain,
where Warren and Kahlan were sure they would not be detected by any gifted
who might be protecting the Order troops, waited an escort of D'Haran guards
General Meiffert had handpicked to protect Kahlan and the two with her, who
were also protecting her.
"So you see?" Warren asked in little more than a whisper. "They're
still at it-moving more and more men up this way, trying to get around us
without us being aware of it."
Kahlan held up the fur to shelter her face as a light breeze dragged a
curtain of snow past them. At least it wasn't snowing again, yet.
"I don't think so, Warren."
His questioning, handsome face turned her way. "Then what?"
"I think they want it to look like they're sending troops past us so we
will send men way out here after them."
"A diversion?"
"I think so. It's just close enough to us to be likely we would
discover them, yet far enough away and through difficult enough terrain that
it would require us to split our forces in order to do anything about it.
Besides, every one of our scouts came back."
"Isn't that good?"
"Sure it is. But what if they have gifted with them, as you believe?
How is it that not one of our scouts failed to make it back to report these
massive troop movements?"
Warren thought that over a moment as the three of them carefully made
it over a high spot, sliding on their bottoms down the far side of the
slippery sloping rock.
"I think they're fishing," Cara said as her boots thumped down on solid
ground behind them. "Their gifted don't try to net the small fry, hoping to
draw bigger fish close."
Kahlan brushed the snow from her backside. "Like us."
Warren looked skeptical. "You think this is all just some sort of
elaborate trap to snare officers or gifted?"
"Well, no," Kahlan said. "That would only be a bonus for them. I think
their main intent is to spur us into splitting our forces to deal with what
they want us to believe is this threat."
Warren scratched his head of curly blond hair. His blue eyes twitched
back in the direction the three of them had come down off the ridge, as if
trying to look again at what he could not see.
"But if they're sending great numbers of troops north-even if it is to
draw away some of our forces-shouldn't that concern us?"
"Of course it should," Kahlan said. "If it were true."
Warren glanced over at her as they struggled through deeper snow
drifted under crags they passed beneath on their way up a steep little rise.
Her legs were weary with the effort. Warren held out his hand to help her up
a high step. He did the same for Cara. Cara gestured that she didn't need
the hand, but she didn't level a scowl at him, either. Kahlan was always
pleased to see evidence that Cara was learning that offers of modest aid
were simply a courtesy and not necessarily accusations of weakness.
"Then I'm confused," Warren said as he panted.
Kahlan came to a halt to let them all catch their breath. She lifted an
arm back toward the enemy troops off beyond the ridge.
"Yes, if it were true that great numbers of troops were going out
around us and heading north, that would concern us. But I don't believe they
are."
Warren swiped a blond lock off his forehead. "You don't think all those
men are heading north? Where, then?"
"Nowhere," Kahlan said.
"That many men? You've got to be joking."
She smiled at the look on his face. "I believe it's a trick. I think
it's only a small number of men."
"But the scouts have been reporting mass numbers of men moving north
for three days now!"
"Hush," Cara warned, getting even with an air of mock scolding.
Warren covered his mouth with both hands when he realized he'd shouted.
They had their breath back, so Kahlan started out again, taking them
over the top of the little rise onto flatter ground, following their
footsteps back the way they had come.
"Remember what the scouts said yesterday?" she asked him. "They tried
to go over to the mountains on the other side to have a look at the lay of
the land beyond and the enemy troops moving north through it, but the passes
were too heavily guarded?"
"I remember."
"I think I've just figured out why." She gestured by looping her hand
around as she went on. "I think what we're seeing is a relatively small
group of the same men just going around in a big circle. We're only seeing
them at the point where they pass up this valley. We see troops marching by
continuously for days and we assume they're moving a lot of men, but I think
it's just a circle of the same ones going round and round."
Warren stopped to stare at her. His face turned grave at the
implications. "So if we're tricked into thinking they're moving an army up
this way, then we will split our army in response and send part of them out
after this phantom force."
"We're already outnumbered," Cara said as she nodded to herself, "but
we have the advantage of defending terrain that suits our purpose. However,
if they could reduce our numbers substantially simply by getting us to send
a large percentage off on some mission, first, their entire army might
finally be able to overrun a smaller number of remaining defenders."
"Makes sense." Warren stroked his chin in thought, looking back at the
ridge. "What if you're wrong?"
Kahlan turned to look back toward the ridge, too. "Well, if I'm wrong,
then. . ."
Kahlan frowned at a fat old maple tree not ten feet away. She thought
she saw the bark move. The dusting of snow on the scaly gray, furrowed bark
began disappearing, melting away in an ever widening area. Like dross
floating on the surface of a boiling cauldron, the bark moved.
Kahlan gasped as Warren seized her and Cara by the collar and flung
them both down on their backs. The wind knocked from her lungs, Kahlan tried
to sit up, but Warren dived to the ground between them, pinning them both
down.
Before Kahlan had a chance to get her breath or ask what was wrong,
blinding light flashed in the still woods. A deafening boom rent the air and
jolted the ground beneath her. Splintered wood, from toothpick-size
fragments to fence-post-size sections, howled past inches above her face.
Huge sections of wood thanked as they rebounded off rocks. Others spun,
caroming off tree trunks. Pieces tumbling along the ground kicking up snow
peppered with frozen chunks of dirt. The air went white as the shock from
the blast blew a wall of snow up into the air.
If any of them had been standing, they would have been torn to shreds.
As soon as the last pieces of timber, trailing smoke, thudded to
ground, Warren rolled toward her. "Gifted," he whispered.
Kahlan frowned at him. "What?"
"Gifted," he whispered again. "They focused their power to boil the
frozen tree inside and make it explode. That's how we lost so many men when
we gathered back in that valley during the first battle, back just before
you came to us. They surprised us."
Kahlan nodded. She peeked up, but saw no one. She glanced over to see
if Cara was all right.
"Where's Cara," she asked in an urgent whisper.
Warren cautiously peered off, searching the empty scene. Kahlan lifted
herself a little on an elbow and saw only the disturbed snow where Cara had
been.
"Dear Creator," Warren said. "You don't suppose they've snatched her,
do you?"
Kahlan saw tracks where there had been none before, leading off to the
side. "I think-"
A scream that would have made a brave man blanch reverberated through
the trees. It trailed off in an agonizing echo.
:,Cara?" Warren asked.
"I don't think so."
Kahlan carefully sat up and saw that a hole had been torn open in the
crowded growth of the forest crown, letting harsh light penetrate the shaded
woodland sanctuary below. The ground all around was littered with splintered
wood, broken branches, huge limbs fallen to ground, and boughs ripped from
other trees. Gouges down through the white layer of snow into the dark
forest floor radiated from a ragged bowl-shaped depression where the tree
had been. Fragments of wood and root lay on the ground everywhere and were
even caught up in the surrounding trees.
Warren put a hand to her shoulder, urging Kahlan to stay down as he
rolled into a crouch. She flipped over onto her stomach and cautiously rose
up onto her hands and knees.
Kahlan jumped up and pointed. "There."
Through the trees, she saw Cara returning. The Mord-Sith was herding a
small man in obvious pain along before her. Each time he stumbled and fell,
she kicked him in the ribs, rolling him through the snow before her. He
cried out, his words coming as a whining cry that Kahlan couldn't make out
because of the distance. The words weren't hard to imagine, though.
Cara had captured one of the gifted. It was for tasks such as this that
Mord-Sith had been created. For someone with the gift, trying to use magic
against a Mord Sith was a mistake that cost them their control over their
own ability.
Kahlan stood, brushing snow from herself. Warren, his violet robes
crusted with snow, rose beside her, transfixed by the sight. This was one of
the wizards responsible for killing so many men when the D'Harans had
gathered in the valley after the Order began moving north. This was the
vicious animal who did Jagang's bidding. He didn't seem like a vicious
animal, now, as he wept and begged before the implacable captor driving him
on before her.
He was a bundle of rags, flinging out around him as he rolled through
the snow with a final mighty kick that deposited him at Kahlan and Warren's
feet. He lay facedown, whimpering like a child.
Cara bent, seized him by his tangled mat of dark hair, and yanked him
to his feet.
It was a child.
"Lyle?" Warren stared incredulously. "Lyle? It was you?"
Tears ran from wintery eyes. He wiped his nose on the back of a
tattered sleeve as he glared at Warren. Young Lyle looked to be a boy of
perhaps ten or twelve years, but since Warren knew him, Kahlan realized he
was probably from the Palace of the Prophets, too. Lyle was a young wizard.
Warren reached out to cup the boy's bloody chin. Kahlan snatched
Warren's wrist. The boy lunged to bite Warren's hand. Cara was quicker. She
snatched him back by the hair as she rammed her Agiel into his back.
Shrieking in pain, he crumpled to the ground. She kicked the injured
lad in the ribs.
Warren held his hands out, imploring. "Cars, don't-"
Her icy blue eyes turned up to challenge him. "He tried to kill us. He
tried to kill the Mother Confessor."
She ground her teeth and, while looking Warren in the eye, kicked the
whimpering boy again.
Warren licked his lips. "I know . . . but..."
"But what?"
"He's so young. It isn't right."
"And so it would be better if we just let him kill us? Would that make
it right for you?"
Kahlan knew Cara was right. As difficult as it was to witness, Cara was
right. If they died, how many men, women, and children would the Imperial
Order go on to slaughter? Child though he was, he was a tool of the Order.
Nonetheless, Kahlan gestured Cara that that was enough. When Kahlan
signaled, Cara again seized his tangled mat of dirty hair in her fist and
hauled him to his feet. With Cara's thighs at his back, he stood shivering,
blood running down his face, pulling short, ragged breaths.
As Kahlan stared down into terrified, tear-filled brown eyes, she put
on her Confessor's face, the face her mother had taught her when she was but
a little girl, the face that masked her inner tumult.
"I know you're, there, Jagang," she said in a quiet voice devoid of
emotion.
The boy's bloody mouth turned up in a smile that was not his own.
"You made a mistake, Jagang. We'll have an army soon on its way to stop
them."
The boy smiled a vacant bloody smile, but said nothing.
"Lyle," Warren said, his voice brittle with anguish, "you can be free
of the dream walker. You must only swear loyalty to Richard and you will be
flee. Believe me, Lyle. Try. I know what it's like. Try, Lyle, and I swear
I'll help you."
Kahlan thought that, with Warren there, a man he knew, he might throw
himself toward the unexpected light coming from the open dungeon door. The
boy behind the smile that was not his own watched Warren with longing that
slowly curdled to loathing. This was a child who had seen the struggle for
freedom bring horror and death and knew that servile obedience brought
rewards and life. He was not old enough to understand what more there was to
it.
With a gentle touch of her fingers, Kahlan urged Warren to back away.
He reluctantly complied.
"This isn't the first of Jagang's wizards we've captured," she said,
offhandedly, to Warren. Her words, though, were not meant for Warren.
Kahlan looked up into Cara's stern blue eyes and then glanced off to
the side, hoping the Mord-Sith understood the instruction.
"Marlin Pickard," Kahlan said, as if recalling the name for Warren, but
her words were still meant for Cara. "He was grown, and even with this
pompous pretend emperor directing him, Marlin still wasn't able to give us
much trouble."
Marlin had in fact given them a great deal of trouble. He had nearly
killed Cara and Kahlan both. Kahlan hoped Cara remembered how tenuous was
her control over someone possessed by the dream walker.
The mood in the quiet woods was still and tense as the boy glared up at
Kahlan.
"We discovered your scheme in time, Jagang. You made a mistake thinking
you could get by our scouts. I hope you're with those men, so that when we
wipe them out we can cut your throat."
The bloody grin widened. "A woman like you is wasted on the side of the
weak," the boy said in the menacing voice of a man. "You'd have a much
better time serving strength, and the Order."
"I'm afraid my husband likes me right where I am."
"And where is your husband, darlin? I was hoping to say hello."
"He's around," Kahlan said in the same dispassionate voice.
She saw Warren, when she had spoken the words, move in a way that was a
little too much like surprise.
"Is he, now?" The boy's eyes turned from Warren, back to Kahlan. "Why
is it I don't believe you?"
She wanted to kick the boy's teeth in as she watched his cruel grin.
Kahlan's mind raced, trying to figure out what Jagang could possibly know,
and what he was trying to discover.
"You'll see him soon enough, when we get this poor child back to camp.
I'm sure Richard Rahl will want to laugh in your cowardly face when I tell
him how we discovered the great emperor's plan to sneak troops north. He'll
want to personally tell you what a fool you are."
The boy tried to take a step toward her, but Cara's fist in his hair
restrained him. He was a cougar on a leash, still testing its chains. The
bloody smile remained, but it was not as self-satisfied as it had been. In
the brown eyes, Kahlan thought she saw hesitation.
"Ah, but I don't believe you," he said, as if losing interest. "We both
know he's not there at all. Don't we, darlin?"
Kahlan resolved to take a risk. "You'll see him for yourself, soon
enough." She made to look as if she were going to turn away, but turned back
to him instead.
Kahlan let a sarcastic smile taint her lips. "Oh-you must mean Nicci?"
The smile vanished from the boy's face. The brow drew down, but he
managed to keep any anger out of his voice.
"Nicci? I don't know what you're talking about, darlin."
"Sister of the Dark? Shapely? Blond hair? Blue eyes? Black dress?
Surely, you would remember a woman that hauntingly beautiful. Or, besides
your other shortcomings, are you also a eunuch?"
The eyes watched, and in them Kahlan could see careful calculations
weighing her every word. But it was Nicci's words about Jagang that Kahlan
was remembering.
"I know who Nicci is. I know every private inch of her. One day, I will
come to know you as intimately as I know Nicci."
Such an obscene threat was somehow more chilling, coming as it did from
the
mouth of a boy. It made her sick to her stomach to hear a child express
Jagang's vile thoughts.
The boy's arm gestured for his master. "One of my beauties, and quite
the lethal lady, besides." Kahlan thought she detected in Jagang's gravelly
growl a hint of the false bravado of a bluff. Almost in afterthought, he
added, "You haven't really seen her."
Kahlan heard in the assertion the ghost of a question he dared not ask,
and knew by it that there was something more to this. She wished she knew
what.
She shrugged again. "Lethal? I wouldn't know."
He licked the blood from his lips. "That's what I thought."
"I wouldn't know because she didn't seem all that lethal. She didn't
manage to harm any of us."
The grin returned. "You lie, darlin. If you really saw Nicci, she would
have killed at least some of you, even if she didn't manage to kill you all.
You couldn't best that one without her scratching someone's eyes out,
first."
"Really? So sure, are we?"
The boy let out a belly laugh. "Darlin, I know Nicci. I'm sure."
Kahlan smiled her contempt into the boy's brown eyes. "You know I'm
telling you the truth."
"Really?" he said, still chuckling. "How's that?"
"You know it's the truth because she's one of your slaves, so you
should be able to enter her mind. You can't, though. I know why you can't.
Even though you aren't too bright, I don't suppose you'll need to think too
long to imagine why not."
Fierce rage fired the boy's eyes. "I don't believe you."
Kahlan shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"If you saw her, then where is she now?"
As she turned her back on him, Kahlan told him the brutal, bitter truth
and let him interpret it his own way. "Last I saw her, she was on her way
into oblivion."
Kahlan heard the bellow behind her. She spun back to see Cara trying to
stop him with her Agiel. Kahlan heard the bone in his arm snap. It didn't
even slow him. The boy, in a wild rage, his hands clawed, his teeth bared,
lunged for Kahlan.
Half turned back to him, Kahlan lifted her hand against the full weight
of the boy crashing toward her as he leaped for her throat. His small chest
contacted her hand. His feet were clear of the ground. It felt not as if he
were throwing himself at her, but no more than dandelion fluff, floating to
her on a breath of air.
Time was hers.
It was not necessary for Kahlan to invoke her birthright, but merely to
withdraw her restraint of it. Her feelings could provide her no safe haven;
only the truth would serve her now.
This was not a small boy, hurt, alone, afraid.
This was the enemy.
The inner violence of her power's cold coiled force slipping its bounds
was breathtaking. It surged up from that deep dark core within, obediently
inundating every fiber of her being.
She could count each small rib under her fingers.
She contained no hate, no rage, no horror . . . no sorrow. In that
infinitesimal spark of time, her mind was in a void where there was no
emotion, only the allconsuming rush of time suspended.
He had no chance. He was hers.
Kahlan did not hesitate.
She unleashed her power.
From an ethereal state as part of her innermost essence, that power
became all.
Thunder without sound jolted the air-exquisite, violent, and for that
pristine instant, sovereign.
The boy's face was twisted by the hate of the man who had controlled
him. In that singular moment, if she was the absence of emotion, then he was
the embodiment of it. Kahlan stared back into that lost child's face,
knowing that he saw only her merciless eyes.
His mind, who he was, who he had been, was already gone.
Trees all around shook from the force of the concussion. Snow dropped
from branches and boughs. The terrible shock to the air lifted a ring of
snow that grew around the two of them in an ever-expanding circle.
Kahlan had known that Jagang could slip into and out of a person's mind
between thought, when time itself did not exist. She had no choice but to do
as she had done. She could not afford to hesitate. With Jagang in a person's
mind, even Cara could not control them.
Jagang had burned his bridges behind him as he fled the young mind.
The boy fell dead at Kahlan's feet.
Kahlan swayed on her feet as she stood over the crumbled body of the
boy, feeling her emotions flood back in. As always happened, using her
Confessor's power left her drained and exhausted. In the aftermath, the
forest sat in silent judgment. Here and there, the virgin snow around the
small body exhibited its red evidence.
Only then did Kahlan even pause to consider if she might have killed
Cara, too.
A Mord-Sith would not live long after the touch of a Confessor. There
had been no choice. She had done her best to warn Cara, to let her know to
get clear, but in the end Kahlan couldn't allow her decision to be
influenced by any consideration other than what had to be done. Hesitation
could have meant disaster.
Now that it was over, though, dread roiled through.
Kahlan looked around, and to the right saw Cara sprawled in the snow.
If she had been touching the boy when Kahlan unleashed her power . . .
Cara groaned. Kahlan staggered to her and dropped to a knee. She
clutched the fur at Cara's shoulder and with a mighty effort pulled her
over.
"Cara-are you all right?"
Cara squinted up with a look of disgust working its way to the surface
of pain. "Well of course I'm all right. You didn't think I would be foolish
enough to hang on to him, did you?"
Kahlan smiled in thankful relief. "No, of course not. I only thought
you might have broken your neck jumping away."
Cara spat snow and dirt. "Nearly did."
Warren helped them both to their feet. Grimacing, he rubbed his
shoulders and then his elbows. From what Kahlan had often been told, being
too close to a Confessor unleashing her power was a painful experience,
sending a shock of agony through every joint. Fortunately, it did no real
damage and the suffering faded quickly.
As Warren glanced over at the dead boy, she knew that there was other
pain that would not leave so quickly.
"Dear Creator," Warren whispered to himself. He looked back at Kahlan
and Cara. "He was just a boy. Was it really necessary-"
"Yes," Kahlan said in a forceful voice. "I'm positive. Cara and I have
encountered this situation before-with Marlin."
"But Marlin was grown. Lyle was so small . . . so young. What real
harm-"
"Warren, don't start down the path of what-might-have-been. Jagang
controlled his mind, just as he controlled Marlin's mind. We know about
this. He was a deadly threat."
"If I couldn't hold him," Cara said, "nothing could."
Warren sighed in misery. He sank to his knees at the boy's side. Warren
whispered a prayer as his fingers stroked the boy's temple.
"I guess the blame rightly lies at Jagang's feet." Warren stood and
brushed the snow from his knees. "Ultimately, Jagang is the one who brought
this about."
Kahlan could see the distant figures of their men, rushing up the
hillside to rescue her. She started down toward them.
"If it pleases you to think so."
Cara stayed right with her. Warren struggled through the snow to catch
up. He snatched Kahlan's arm and pulled her to a stop.
"You mean Ann, don't you?"
Kahlan schooled her anger as she studied Warren's blue eyes.
"Warren, you were a victim of that woman, too. You were taken to the
Palace of the Prophets when you were young, weren't you?"
"I guess so, but-"
"But nothing. They came and took you. They came and took that poor dead
child back there." Kahlan's fingernails dug into her palms. "They came and
took Richard."
Warren pressed his hand gently to the side of Kahlan's arm. "I know how
it seems. Prophecy is often-"
"There!" Kahlan angrily pointed back at the corpse. "There is prophecy!
Death and misery-all in the sacred name of prophecy!"
Warren didn't try to answer her rage.
Kahlan forced control into her voice, if not the emotion behind it.
"How many are going to die needlessly in a perverted devotion to seeing
prophecy carried out? Had Ann not sent Verna here for Richard, none of this
would be happening."
"How do you know that? Kahlan, I can understand how you feel, but how
can you be sure?"
"The barrier stood for three thousand years. It could only be brought
down by a wizard born with both sides of the gift. There has been none until
Richard. Ann sent Verna to get him. Had she not, the barrier would still be
there. Jagang and the Order would be on the other side. The Midlands would
be safe. That boy would be playing ball somewhere."
"Kahlan, it's not so simple as you make it seem." Warren opened his
hands in an expression of frustration. "I don't want to argue this with you,
but I want you to understand that prophecy gets fulfilled in many ways. It
often seeks its own solution. It could be that had Ann not sent for Richard,
he would have, for some other reason, ventured down there and brought down
the barrier. Who is to know the reason? Don't you see? It could be that it
was bound to happen, and Ann was simply the means. If not her, then