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fingers, lying limply on the table before her, tingled.
"Faith and feelings. Harold, you are as mad as your sister."
She drew herself up straight and folded her hands. She shared a last
look with her half brother, a man she had never known, except in name, as
she pronounced sentence on him.
"Beginning at sunrise tomorrow, the D'Haran Empire and Galea are at
war. After sunrise tomorrow, if you are seen by me or any of our men, you
will be put to death for the crime of treason.
"I will not allow those brave men out there to die for traitors. The
Imperial Order will, in all likelihood, turn north up the Callisidrin
Valley. You will be alone. They will butcher every man in your army, just as
they butchered the people of Ebinissia. Jagang will give your sister to his
men, as a whore.
"It will be by your doing, Harold, for refusing to use your ability to
think, and instead following your feelings and faith in what does not
exist."
Harold, hands clasped behind his back, chin held up, said nothing as
Kahlan continued.
"Tell Cyrilla that she had better hope for the fate I have just
described, because if the Order does not come through Galea, I will. I have
promised no mercy to the Order. Galea's treason condemns her to the same
fate as the Order. If the Order does not get Cyrilla, then I swear I will,
and when I get her, I am going to take her back to Aydindril and I'm going
to personally throw her back down into that pit from which you rescued her,
and I am going to leave her down there with every criminal brute I can find
for as long as she lives."
Harold's jaw dropped. "Mother Confessor . . . you wouldn't."
Kahlan's eyes told him otherwise. "You be sure to tell Cyrilla what's
in store for her. Jebra probably tried to tell her, and was thrown in a
dungeon for it. Cyrilla is refusing to see the open pit before her, and you
are walking into it with her. Worse, you are taking your innocent people
with you."
Kahlan drew her royal Galean sword. She grasped either end in a hand.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled the flat of the blade against her knee. The
steel bent, then finally snapped with a loud report. She tossed the broken
blade on the floor at his feet.
"Now get out of my sight."
He turned to leave, but before he took a step, Zedd stood, holding out
a hand as if to ask him to remain where he was.
"Mother Confessor," Zedd said, choosing his words carefully. "I believe
you are letting your emotions get in the way."
Harold gestured to Kahlan, relieved to hear Zedd's intercession. "Tell
her, Wizard Zorander. Tell her."
Kahlan couldn't believe her ears. She remained where she was, staring
into
Zedd's hazel eyes. "Then would you mind explaining my error of emotion,
First Wizard?"
Zedd glanced at Harold and then back to Kahlan. "Mother Confessor,
Queen Cyrilla is obviously deranged. Prince Harold is not only doing her a
disservice, but enabling her to bring only the specter of death to her
people. If he chose the side of reason, he would be protecting his people,
and honoring his sister's past admirable service when she was of sound mind.
"Instead, he has betrayed his duty to his people by embracing what he
wishes to be true about her instead of facing what is true. In this way, he
is embracing death, and in this case, embracing death for his people, too.
"Prince Harold has been justly found guilty of treason. Your emotions
for him
are interfering with your judgment. Obviously, he is now a danger to
our cause, to
the lives of our people, and to the lives of his own people. He cannot
be allowed to
leave." -
Harold looked thunderstruck. "But Zedd. . ."
Zedd's hazel eyes, too, were a terrible pronouncement of guilt. He
waited, as if challenging the man to further prove his treason. Harold's
mouth moved, but he could offer no words.
"Does anyone disagree with me?" Zedd asked.
He looked at Adie. She shook her head. Verna likewise shook her head.
Warren stared at Harold for a moment, then shook his head.
Harold's expression turned indignant. "I'm not going to stand for this.
The Mother Confessor has given me until dawn to withdraw. You must honor her
sentence."
He took two strides toward the door, but then paused, clutching his
chest. Twisting slowly as he started to sink, his eyes rolling up in his
head. His legs folded and he crashed to the floor.
Kahlan sat stunned. No one moved or said anything. General Meiffert
went down on one knee beside the body, checking Prince Harold for breath or
pulse. The general looked up at Kahlan and shook his head.
She passed her gaze from Zedd, to Adie, to Verna, to Warren. None
revealed anything in their expression.
Kahlan stood and spoke softly. "I don't ever want to know which one of
you did this. I'm not saying you were wrong . . . I just don't want to
know."
The four gifted people nodded.
At the door, Kahlan stood in the bright sunlight a moment, feeling the
cold air on her face, searching, until she saw Captain Ryan leaning against
a stout young maple tree. He stood at attention as she strode out to him
through the snow.
"Bradley, did Prince Harold tell you why he was coming here?"
Calling him by his given name, rather than his rank, changed the nature
of the question. His rigid posture slackened.
"Yes, Mother Confessor. He said he had to tell you that he had been
ordered back by his queen to defend Galea, and that he was further ordered
to bring his men serving with you back to Galea with him."
"Then what are you doing here? Why did you and your men come along, if
he was to take everyone back?"
He lifted his square jaw and looked at her with clear blue eyes.
"Because we deserted, Mother Confessor."
"You what?"
"Prince Harold gave me his orders, as I just reported them. I told him
that it was wrong, and could only harm our people. He said it was not for me
to decide such things. He said it was not for me to think, but to follow
orders.
"I've fought with you, Mother Confessor. I believe I know you better
than Prince Harold does-I know you are devoted to protecting the lives of
the people of the Midlands. I told him that what Cyrilla was doing was
wrong. He was angry, and said it was my duty to follow my orders.
"I told him that, in that case, I was deserting the Galean army and was
going to stand with you, instead. I thought he was going to have me put to
death for disobeying him, but he would have had to put all thousand of us to
death because all the men felt the same way. A good many came forward to
tell him so. The fire seemed to go out of him, then, and he let us ride down
here with him.
"I hope you aren't angry with us, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan couldn't force herself to be the Mother Confessor at that
moment. She put her arms around him.
"Thank you, Bradley."
She gripped his shoulders and smiled at him through her watery vision.
"You used your head. I couldn't be angry with that."
"You told us once we were a badger trying to swallow an ox whole. Looks
to me you've taken to trying to do the same thing. If there ever was a
badger who could swallow an ox whole, it would be you, Mother Confessor, but
I guess we wouldn't want you to try it without us to help you do it."
They turned then and saw General Meiffert directing some of his men.
They were carrying Prince Harold's limp body out of the lodge, holding him
by the shoulders and feet. His hands dragged through the snow.
"I figured this wasn't going to come to any good end," the young
captain said. "Ever since Cyrilla was hurt, Prince Harold just never seemed
himself. I always loved the man. It hurt me to have to desert him. But he
just wasn't making sense anymore."
Kahlan put a comforting hand on his shoulder as they watched the body
being carried away.
"I'm sorry, Bradley. Like you, I always thought highly of him. I guess
seeing his sister and his queen so long held in the grip of that kind of
sickness just brought him to his wits' end. Try to keep your good memories
of him."
"I will, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan changed the subject. "I'll need one of your men to take a
message to Cyrilla. I was going to have Harold take it, but now we'll need a
messenger."
"I will see to it, Mother Confessor."
She only then realized how cold it was outside, and that she didn't
have a cloak. As the captain went to get his men quartered and to pick out a
man to act as a messenger, Kahlan went back inside the lodge.
Cara was putting more wood on the hearth. Verna and Adie had gone.
Warren was selecting a rolled map from the basket of maps and diagrams in
the corner.
As he was leaving; Kahlan caught Warren's arm. She looked into the
wizard's blue eyes, knowing they were much older than they appeared. Richard
had always said that Warren was one of the smartest people he had ever met.
Besides that, Warren's true talent was said to lie in the area of prophecy.
"Warren, are we all going to die in this mad war?"
His face softened with a shy but impish grin. "I thought you didn't
believe in prophecy, Kahlan."
She released his arm. "I guess I don't. Never mind."
Cara, leaving to find some more firewood, followed Warren out. Kahlan
warmed herself before the hearth as she stared at Spirit standing on the
mantel. Zedd rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"What you had to say to Harold about using your mind, about reason, was
very wise, Kahlan. You were right."
Her fingers touched the buttery smooth walnut robes of Spirit. "It was
what Richard said, when he was telling me what he had finally come to
understand about what he had to do. He said the only sovereign he could
allow to rule him was reason."
"Richard said that? Those were his very words?"
Kahlan nodded as she gazed at Spirit. "He said the first law of reason
is that what exists, exists; what is, is, and that from this irreducible,
bedrock principle, all knowledge is built. He said that was the foundation
from which life is embraced.
"He said thinking is a choice, and that wishes and whims are not facts,
nor are they a means to discover them. I guess Harold proved the point.
Richard said reason is our only way of grasping reality-that it's our basic
tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking-to reject
reason-but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to
see."
She listened to the fire crackling at her feet as she let her gaze
wander over the lines of the figure he had carved for her. When she heard
nothing from Zedd, she looked over her shoulder. He was staring into the
flames, a tear running down his cheek.
"Zedd, what's wrong?"
"The boy figured it out himself." The old wizard's voice was the uneasy
sum of loneliness and quiet pride. "He understands it-he interpreted it
perfectly. He even came to it on his own, by applying it."
"Came to what?"
"The most important rule there is, the Wizard's Sixth Rule: the only
sovereign you can allow to rule you is reason."
Reflections of the firelight danced in his hazel eyes. "The Sixth Rule
is the hub upon which all rules turn. It is not only the most important
rule, but the simplest. Nonetheless, it is the one most often ignored and
violated, and by far the most despised. It must be wielded in spite of the
ceaseless, howling protests of the wicked.
"Misery, iniquity, and utter destruction lurk in the shadows outside
its full light, where half-truths snare the faithful disciples, the deeply
feeling believers, the selfless followers.
"Faith and feelings are the warm marrow of evil. Unlike reason, faith
and feelings provide no boundary to limit any delusion, any whim. They are a
virulent poison, giving the numbing illusion of moral sanction to every
depravity ever hatched.
"Faith and feelings are the darkness to reason's light.
"Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life
is wholly embraced through reason, through this rule. In rejecting it, in
rejecting reason, one embraces death."
By the next morning, about half of the Galean force had vanished,
returning to their homeland and queen as ordered by Prince Harold before his
death. The rest, like Captain Ryan and his young soldiers, remained loyal to
the D'Haran Empire.
Lieutenant Leiden, the former general, and his entire force of Keltish
troops had also departed by morning. He left Kahlan a letter, in it saying
that with Galea choosing to break with the D'Haran Empire, he had to return
to help protect Kelton, as surely the selfish actions of the Galeans meant
the Order would be more likely to come up the Kern River Valley and threaten
Kelton. He wrote that he hoped the Mother Confessor would realize how grave
was the danger to Kelton, and understand that it was not his intention to
desert her or the D'Haran Empire, but simply to help protect his people.
Kahlan knew of the men leaving; General Meiffert and Warren had come to
tell her. She had expected it, and had been watching. She told General
Meiffert to allow them to leave if they wished. War in their camp could come
to no good end. The morale of the remaining men was boosted by a sense of
being on the right side, and of doing the right thing.
That afternoon, as she was drafting an urgent letter to General
Baldwin, commander of all Keltish forces, General Meiffert and Captain Ryan
came to see her. After listening to their plan, she granted Captain Ryan
permission to go with a like number of General Meiffert's handpicked D'Haran
special forces to conduct raids on the Imperial Order force. Warren and six
Sisters were sent to accompany them.
With the Imperial Order having moved so far back to the south, Kahlan
needed information on what they were doing and what shape their force was
in. More than that, though, with the foul weather in their favor, she wanted
to keep pressure on the enemy. Captain Bradley Ryan and his band of nearly a
thousand were experienced mountain fighters and had grown up in just such
harsh conditions. Kahlan had fought beside the captain and his young Galean
soldiers, and had helped train them in the ways of fighting a vastly
superior force. If only the enemy force did not number over a million . . .
General Meiffert's special forces, which, until Kahlan had promoted
him, he had ably commanded, were now led by Captain Zimmer, a young, square
jawed, bullnecked D'Haran with an infectious smile. They were everything
Captain Ryan's young men were, tripled: experienced, businesslike under
stress, tireless, fearless, and coolly efficient at killing. What made most
soldiers blanch made them grin.
They preferred fighting just such as this, where they were free of
massive battlefield tactics and could instead use their special skills. They
treasured being let off the leash to do what they did best. Rather than
check them, Kahlan gave them a free hand.
Each of those D'Harans collected enemy ears.
They felt a great fidelity to Kahlan, in part because she didn't try to
rein them in and integrate them into the larger army, and, perhaps more so,
because when they returned from missions, she always asked to see their
strings of ears. They relished being appreciated.
Kahlan intended to later send them to collect Galean ears.
Kahlan glanced over her shoulder at the Prelate bent over the map
basket in the corner. It had been almost a full phase of the moon since
Warren had left on the mission with captains Ryan and Zimmer. Although it
was difficult to judge accurately just how long such missions would last,
they should have been back by now. Kahlan knew all too well the kind of
worry that had to be churning beneath the woman's no-nonsense exterior.
"Verna," Kahlan asked as she rubbed her arms, "on your way past, could
you throw some more wood on the fire, please?"
Cara hopped down off her stool, where she was perched, watching over
Kahlan's shoulder. "I'll do it."
Verna pulled a map free and, on her way back to the table, thanked
Cara. "Here it is, Zedd. I think this better shows the area you're talking
about."
Zedd unfurled the new map over the top of the one already laid out on
the table before Kahlan. It was a larger scale, giving a more detailed look
at the southern regions of the Midlands.
"Yes," Zedd drawled as he peered at the new map. "See here?" He tapped
the Drun River. "See how narrow the lowlands are down south, through here?
That's what I was talking about. Rough country, with cliffs in places
hemming the river. That's why I don't think they would try to go up the Drun
Valley."
"I suppose you're right," Verna said.
"Besides"-Kahlan waggled a finger over the area to the north on the
first map"up this way is mostly only Nicobarese. They are rather isolated,
and so a tempting target, but they aren't a wealthy land. The plunder and
trade goods would be slim. The Order has much more opportunity for conquest
if they stay over here. Besides, can you see how difficult it would be for
them to get their army back over the Rang'Shada mountains, if they went up
the Drun? Strategically, it wouldn't make as much sense for them to go up
that way."
Verna idly twiddled with a button on her blue dress as she studied the
map. "Yes . . . I see what you mean."
"But your point is well taken," Kahlan said. "It wouldn't be a bad idea
if you sent a Sister or two to watch that area; just because it doesn't make
as much logistic sense, that doesn't mean Jagang wouldn't try it. Come
spring, he's bound to move on us. We wouldn't want to be surprised to find
the Imperial Order storming in the back door to Aydindril."
Cara answered the knock at the door. It was a head scout named Hayes.
Kahlan stood when she saw through the open door and nearby trees that
Captain Ryan was also making his way toward the lodge.
Hayes saluted with a fist to his heart.
"Glad to see you back, Corporal Hayes," Kahlan said.
"Thank you, Mother Confessor. It's good to be back."
He looked like he could use a meal. After Captain Ryan rushed in
through the door, Cara pushed it shut against the blowing snow. Hayes
stepped to the side, out of the way of the captain.
Kahlan was relieved to see the young Galean officer. "How did
everything go, Captain? How is everyone?"
He pulled off his scarf and wool hat as he caught his breath; Verna
looked to be holding hers.
"Good," the captain said. "We did well. The Sisters were able to heal
some of our wounded. Some needed to be transported for a ways before the
Sisters could see to them. That slowed us. We had a few losses, but not as
many as we feared. Warren was a great help."
"Where is Warren?" Zedd asked.
As if bidden by his name, Warren came in through the door, escorted by
a swirling gust of snow. Kahlan squinted at the slash of bright light until
the door was pushed shut once more. She caught the look on Verna's face, and
recalled how lighthearted she always felt to see Richard back safely when
they had been separated. Warren casually kissed Verna on the cheek with a
quick peck. Kahlan noticed the look they shared, even if no one else did.
She was happy for them, but still, the reminder was like a jab at the pain
of her helpless heartache and worry over Richard.
"Did you tell them?" Warren asked, unbuttoning his cloak.
"No," Captain Ryan said. "We haven't had a chance yet."
Zedd's brow drew down. "Tell us what?"
Warren heaved a sigh. "Well, Verna's special glass worked better than
we thought it had. We captured several men and questioned them at length.
The ones we saw dead in the valley were only the ones who died at first."
Verna helped Warren shed his heavy, snow-crusted cloak. She put it on
the floor by the fire, where Captain Ryan had laid his brown coat to dry.
"It seems," Warren went on, "that there were a great many-maybe another
sixty, seventy thousand-who didn't go blind, but who lost the sight in one
eye, or have impaired vision. The Order couldn't very well abandon them,
because they can still see well enough to stay with the rest, but more
important, it's hoped that maybe those men will heal, and regain full use of
their sight-and their ability to fight."
"Not likely," Verna said.
"I don't think so, either," Warren said, "but that's what they are
thinking, anyway. Another goodly number, maybe twenty five or thirty
thousand, are sick---their eyes and noses red and horribly infected."
Verna nodded. "The glass will do that."
"Then some more, maybe half that number, are having breathing
difficulty."
"So," Kahlan said, "with those killed and those injured enough to keep
them from being effective fighters, that makes somewhere near one hundred
fifty thousand put out of the way by the glass dust. Quite an
accomplishment, Verna."
Verna looked as pleased as Kahlan. "It was worth that horse ride
scaring the wits out of me. It wouldn't have worked had you not thought of
doing it that way."
"What kind of success did you have, Captain?" Cara asked as she came to
stand behind Kahlan.,
"Captain Zimmer and I had the kind of success we hoped for. I'd guess
we took out maybe ten thousand in the time we were down there."
Zedd let out a slow whistle. "Pretty heavy fighting."
"Not really. Not the way the Mother Confessor taught us to do it, and
not the way Captain Zimmer works, either. Mostly we eliminate the enemy as
efficiently as possible, and try to keep from having to fight at all. If you
slit a man's throat in his sleep, you can accomplish a lot more, and you're
less likely to get hurt yourself."
Kahlan smiled. "I'm glad you were such a good student."
Captain Ryan lifted a thumb. "Warren and the Sisters were a great help
at getting us where we needed to be without being discovered. Any word about
the white cloaks, yet? We could really use them. I can tell you for a fact
that they would have enabled us to do more."
"We just got in our first load the day before yesterday," Kahlan told
him. "More than enough for your men and Captain Zimmer's. We'll have more
within a few days."
Captain Ryan rubbed his hands, warming his fingers. "Captain Zimmer
will be pleased."
Zedd gestured to the south. "Did you find out why they withdrew so far
back over ground they'd taken?"
Warren nodded. "From the men we questioned, we found out that they have
fever going through their camp. Nothing we did, just your regular fever that
happens in such crowded camp conditions in the field. But they've lost tens
of thousands of men to the fever. They wanted to withdraw to put some
distance between us, give themselves some breathing room. They aren't
concerned about being able to push us out of their way when they wish."
That made sense. With their numbers, it was only natural for them to be
confident, even cavalier, about dealing with any opposition. Kahlan couldn't
understand why Warren and Captain Ryan looked so downhearted. She sensed
that, despite their good news, there was something amiss.
"Dear spirits," Kahlan said, trying to give them some cheer. "Their
numbers are dwindling away like snow beside the hearth. This is better
than-"
Warren held up a hand. "I asked Hayes, here, to come and give you his
report firsthand. I think you had better hear him out."
Kahlan motioned the man to come forward. He stepped smartly up to her
table and snapped to attention.
"Let's hear what you have to report, Corporal Hayes."
His face looked chalky, and despite the cold, he was sweating.
"Mother Confessor, my scout team was down to the southeast, watching
the routes in from the wilds, and watching, too in case the Order tried to
swing wide around us. Well, I guess the short of it is, we spotted a column
making its way west to resupply and reinforce the Order."
"They're a big army," Kahlan said. "They would have supplies sent from
their homeland to augment what they can get as spoils. A supply column would
have men guarding them."
"I followed them for a week, just to get an accurate count."
"How many," Kahlan asked.
"Well over a quarter million, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan's flesh tingled as if icy needles were dancing over it.
"How many?" Verna asked.
"At least two hundred and fifty thousand men at arms, plus drivers and
civilians with the supplies."
Everything they had worked for, all the sacrifices, all the struggle to
whittle down the Imperial Order, had just been nullified. Worse than
nullified, their work had been erased, and nearly that many more had been
added to the force the enemy had started with.
"Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered, "how many men does the Old World have
to throw at us?"
When she met Warren's gaze, she knew that this number, even, was hardly
surprising to him.
Warren gestured to the scout. "Hayes saw only the first group. The men
we captured told us about the reinforcements. We weren't sure they were
telling us the truth-we thought they might be trying to spook us-but then we
met up with Corporal Hayes, on his way back. We did some further questioning
and scoutingthat's why we were delayed in returning."
"Another quarter million . . ." Kahlan's words trailed off. It all
seemed so hopeless.
Warren cleared his throat. "That is just the first column of fresh
troops. More are coming."
Kahlan went to the hearth and warmed her hands as she stared into the
flames. She was standing beneath the statue Richard had carved for her, to
make her feel better. Kahlan wished that at that moment she could recall the
defiant feeling Spirit portrayed. It felt as if she could only contemplate
death.
--]----
The news of the Imperial Order reinforcements, just as the news of
departure of the Galeans and Keltans, spread through the camp faster than a
storm wind. Kahlan, Zedd, Warren, Verna, Adie, General Meiffert, and all the
rest of the officers held nothing back from the men. Those men were risking
their lives daily and had a right to the truth. If Kahlan was passing
through the camp, and a soldier was brave enough to ask her, she told him
what she knew. She tried to give them confidence, too, but she didn't lie to
them.
The men, having struggled for so long, were beyond fear. The bleak mood
was a palpable pall smothering the spark of life out of them. They went
about their tasks as if numb, accepting their fate, which now seemed sealed,
resigned to the inevitable. The New World offered no shelter, no safe place,
nowhere to hide from the boundless menace of the Imperial Order.
Kahlan showed the soldiers a determined face. She had no choice.
Captain Ryan and his men, having been through such despair before, were less
troubled by the news. They couldn't die; they were already dead. Along with
Kahlan, the young Galeans had long ago taken an oath of the dead, and could
only be returned to life when the Order was destroyed.
None of it mattered much to Captain Zimmer and his men. They knew what
needed to be done, and they simply kept at it. Each of them now had multiple
strings of ears. They began new strings at one hundred. It was a matter of
honor to them that they kept only the right ear, so no two ears could be
from the same man.
Representative Theriault of Herjborgue was as good as his word. The
white wool cloaks, hats, and mittens arrived weekly, helping hide the men
who regularly went on missions, while the weather was in their favor, to
attack the Imperial Order. With the sickness in the Order's camp leaving so
many of them weak, along with so
many of the enemy having impaired vision, those missions were
extraordinarily successful. Troops wearing the concealing cloaks were also
sent to lie in wait and intercept any supply trains, hoping to neutralize
the reinforcements before they could join with the enemy's main force.
Still, the attacks were little more than an annoyance to the Order.
Kahlan, after a meeting with a group just returned, found Zedd alone in
the lodge, looking over the latest information that had been added to the
maps.
"Good fortune," she said when he looked up, watching as she removed her
fur mantle. "The men who just got in had few casualties, and they caught a
large group out on patrol. They were able to cut them off and take them all
out, including one of Jagang's Sisters."
"Then why the long face?"
She could only lift her hands in a forsaken gesture of futility.
"Try not to be so disheartened," Zedd told her. "Despair is often war's
handmaiden. I can't tell you how many years it was, back when I was young,
that everyone fighting for their lives in that war back then thought that it
was only a matter of time until we were crushed. We went on to win."
"I know, Zedd. I know." Kahlan rubbed at the chill in her hands. She
almost hated to say it, but she finally did. "Richard wouldn't come to lead
the army because he said that the way things stand now, we can't win. He
said whether or not we fight the Order, the world will fall under its
shadow, and if we fight, it will only result in more death-that our side
will be destroyed, the Order would still rule the world, and any chance for
winning in the future would be lost."
Zedd peered at her with one eye. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Richard said we can't win, but, dear spirits, I can't let myself
believe that. I would rather die fighting to be free, to help keep my people
free, than to live the death of a slave. Yet, I know I'm violating Richard's
wishes, his advice, and his orders. I gave him my word .... I feel as if I'm
treading the quicksand of betrayal, and taking everyone with me."
She searched his face for some sign that Richard might have been wrong.
"You said that he had figured out the Wizard's Sixth Rule on his own-that we
must use our minds to see the reality of the way things are. I had hopes. I
thought he had to be wrong about the futility of this war, but now. . ."
Zedd smiled to himself, as if finding fancy in something she saw as
only horrifying.
"This is going to be a long war. It is far from beyond hope, much less
decided. This is the agony of leadership in such a struggle-the doubts, the
fears, the feelings of hopelessness. Those are feelings-not necessarily
reality. Not yet. We have much yet to bring to bear.
"Richard said what he believed based on the way matters stood at the
time he said them. Who is to say that the people are not now prepared to
prove themselves to him? Prove themselves ready to reject the Order? Perhaps
what Richard needed in order for him to commit to the battle, has already
come about."
"But I know how strongly he warned me against joining this battle. He
meant what he said. Still . . . I don't have Richard's strength, the
strength to turn my back and let it happen." Kahlan gestured to her inkstand
on the table. "I've sent letters asking that more troops be sent down here."
He smiled again, as if to say that proved it could be done.
"It will take continual effort to grind down the enemy's numbers. I
think we
have yet to deal the Order a truly serious blow, but we will. The
Sisters and I will come up with something. You never know in matters of this
kind. It could be that we will suddenly do something that will send them
reeling."
Kahlan smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Thanks, Zedd. I'm so thankful
to have you with us." Her gaze wandered to Spirit, standing proudly above
the hearth. She stepped over to the mantel, as if to an altar that held the
sacred carving. "Dear spirits, I miss him."
It was a question without the words, hoping he would surprise her with
something that he had thought of to help get Richard back.
"I know, dear one. I miss him, too. He's alive-that's the most
important thing."
Kahlan could only nod.
Zedd clapped his hands together, as if taken with a gleeful thought.
"What we need, more than anything, is something to get everyone's mind off
of the task at hand for a while. Something to give them a reason to cheer
together for a while. It would do them more good than anything."
Kahlan frowned over her shoulder. "Like what? You mean some kind of
game, or something?"
His face was all screwed up in musing. "I don't know. Something happy.
Something to show them that the Order can't stop us from living our lives.
Can't stop us from the enjoyment of life-of what life is really all about."
He stroked a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw. "Any ideas?"
"Well, I can't really think of-"
Just then, Warren strode in. "Just got a report from over in the Drun
Valley. Our lucky day-no activity, as we expected."
He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still holding the door lever,
looking from Kahlan to Zedd and back again.
"What's the matter? What's going on? Why are you two looking at me like
that?"
Verna came up behind Warren and gave him a shove into the lodge. "Go
on, go on, get in there. Close the door. What's the matter with you? It's
freezing out there."
Verna huffed and shut the door herself. When she turned around and saw
Zedd and Kahlan, she backed a step.
"Vema, Warren," Zedd said in a honeyed voice, "come on in, won't you?"
Verna scowled. "What are you two scheming and grinning at?"
"Well," Zedd drawled as he winked at Kahlan, "the Mother Confessor and
I were just discussing the big event."
Verna's scowl darkened as she leaned in. "What big event? I've heard
nothing about any big event."
Even Warren, rarely given to scowling, was scowling now. "That's right.
What big event?"
"Your wedding," Zedd said.
Both Verna and Warren's scowls evaporated as they straightened. They
were overcome with surprised, silly, radiant grins.
"Really?" Warren asked.
"Really?" Verna asked.
"Yes, really," Kahlan said.
It took more than two weeks to prepare for Verna and Warren's wedding.
It wasn't that it couldn't have been done more quickly, but rather, as Zedd
had explained to Kahlan, he wanted-to "drag out the whole affair." He wanted
to give everyone ample time to ponder it and to dream up lavish doings; time
to organize, to make decorations, to cook special foods, to get the camp
ready for a grand party; time to have a stretch where everyone could gossip
about it as they eagerly looked forward to the big event.
The soldiers, at first merely pleased, soon got caught up in the spirit
of the occasion. It became a grand diversion.
They all liked Warren. He was the sort of man that everyone felt a
little sorry for, a bit protective of-the awkward shy type. Most didn't have
the foggiest understanding of many of the things he babbled about. They
thought that he just wasn't the type who would ever win a woman. That he
had, to them seemingly against all odds, gave the men an inner pride that he
was one of theirs, and he had done it: he'd won a woman's heart. It gave
them hope that they might one day have a wedding, a wife, and a family, even
if they were afraid that they, too, were often awkward and shy.
The men even openly expressed happiness for Verna. She was a woman they
respected, but had never exactly felt warmly toward. Their bold well-wishes
flummoxed her.
The entire camp was caught up in the spirit of the event even more than
Kahlan had hoped. After a brief pause in the beginning, while it sank in,
the men, so weary not only of fighting against such odds, the loss of
friends, and being in the field away from their homes and loved ones for so
long, but also the harsh, difficult, dreary weather, took to the diversion
with gusto.
A large central area was cleared-tents moved, and the area cleaned of
snow down to the bare ground. At the head of the cleared area, they built a
platform-laid across anchored supply wagonsatop which the wedding was to
take place. The platform was needed so that the men would have a better
chance to see the ceremony. A dance area was set aside and those men with
musical instruments, and not out on duty, spent night and day practicing. A
choir was formed and went off to a secluded ravine to rehearse. Wherever
Kahlan went, she could hear pipes and drums, or the piercing notes of a
shawm, or the melodic chords of strings. Men came to fear playing off-key
more than they feared the Imperial Order.
With over a hundred Sisters available, it was suggested that there
could be dancing after the ceremony. The Sisters liked the idea, until they
started doing the math and realized how many men there were to each woman,
and how much dancing they would be doing. Still, they were titillated at the
prospect of having attention lavished
on them at a dance, and approved the idea. Women centuries old were
blushing like girls again at all the requests from men in their teens and
twenties for the promise of a turn with them at the wedding dance.
As the wedding approached the men made streets, of sorts, in a winding
course through the camp, so that after the ceremony, the wedding party could
pass in review through the entire camp. All the men wanted a chance to be a
part in greeting the newly married couple and wishing them well.
Kahlan had the idea that, after the wedding, Warren and Verna should
have the lodge. It was to be her wedding gift to them, so, for the most
part, she kept it a secret. Kahlan had Cara direct the public pretense of
having a tent set aside and reserved for the newly married couple. Cara
moved Verna's things in the tent, and freshened it up with herbs and frozen
sprigs with wild berries. The diversion worked; Verna believed the tent was
to be hers and Warren's, and wouldn't let him into it until after they were
married.
The day of the wedding dawned with sparkling blue skies, and wasn't so
cold that people were likely to get frostbite. The fresh snow of the day
before was quickly cleared out of the central area so that the festivities
could take place without the Sisters getting snow down their boots as they
danced. Some of the Sisters came out to inspect the dance floor, sauntering
around, giving the men a look at who they might get to have a turn with-if
they were lucky. It was all done with much humor and good cheer.
While Verna spent the early afternoon in her tent, submitting to having
her hair fussed over, her face painted, and her wedding dress tended to by a
gaggle of Sisters, Kahlan was finally able to have the secrecy she needed in
order to decorate the lodge. Inside, she secured fragrant, feathery, balsam
boughs to a cord and draped it in swags around the top of every wall. She
tied red berries-as that was all she could come by-into the boughs to give
them some color.
One of the Sisters had given Kahlan some plain weave fabric that Kahlan
had made into a curtain for the window. She had worked on it when she
retired to the lodge at night, stitching designs to give the simple material
a lacy look. She kept it under her bed so that when they came in to go over
battlefield strategy, Verna and Warren wouldn't know what she was doing.
Kahlan was finally able to put the scented candles, donated by different
Sisters as gifts, all around the room, and at last hang the curtain on a
straight limb she stripped of bark.
The one thing Kahlan wouldn't leave to brighten the lodge for the newly
wedded couple was Spirit. That, she would take to her new tent.
As Kahlan was making up the bed with fresh bedding, Cara came in with
an armload of something blue.
Kahlan folded the blanket under the foot of the straw-filled mattress
as she watched Cara shut the door.
"What have you got there?"
"You won't believe it," Cara said with a grin. "Wide blue silk ribbon.
The Sisters have Verna tied to a chair while they're fussing over her, and
Zedd has Warren off doing something, so I thought you and I could use the
ribbon to decorate the place a little. Drape it around. Make it look
pretty." She pointed. "Like up there-we could wind it around the balsam you
hung to give it a fancy look."
Kahlan blinked in surprise. "What a good idea."
She didn't know what was more astonishing, actually seeing Cara with
blue silk ribbon, or hearing her say "decorate" and "pretty" in the same
breath. She smiled
to herself, happy to have heard such a thing. Zedd was more of a wizard
than he knew.
Kahlan and Cara each stood on a log round, working their way along the
wall as they wove the ribbon through and around the swagged balsam boughs.
It was so beautiful seeing the first wall completed that Kahlan couldn't
stop gazing and grinning. They started in on the second wall, opposite the
door, using extra ribbon for best effect when Verna and Warren first entered
and saw their new place.
"Where did you ever get all this ribbon, away?" Kahlan asked around a
mouthful of pins.
"Benjamin got it for me." Cara chuckled as she threaded the ribbon
around the cord. "Can you believe it? He made me promise not to ask him
where he got it from."
Kahlan took the pins from her mouth. "Who?"
"Who what?" Cara mumbled before she stuck her tongue out the corner of
her mouth while wiggling a pin into a tight place.
"Who did you say got you the ribbon?"
Cara lifted another length of blue silk to the ceiling. "General
Meiffert. I don't have a clue where he-"
"You said Benjamin."
Cara lowered the ribbon and stared at Kahlan. "No I didn't."
"Yes, you did. You said Benjamin."
"I said General Meiffert. You only thought-"
"I never knew that General Meiffert's first name was Benjamin."
"Well..."
"Is `Benjamin' General Meiffert's first name?"
Had Cara been wearing her red leather, her face would have matched it.
As it was, her dark scowl matched the brown leather she had on.
"You know it is."
A smile grew on Kahlan's lips. "I do now."
--]----
Kahlan wore her white Mother Confessor's dress. She was a bit surprised
to notice that it fit a little loosely, but all things considered, she
supposed it was to be expected. Because of the cold, she also wore the wolf
fur mantle Richard had made for her, but draped it around her shoulders more
like a stole. She stood with her back straight and chin held high,
overseeing the ceremony and gazing out at the tens of thousands of quiet
faces. Behind her was a rich verdant wall of woven boughs that enabled
distant spectators to more easily pick out the six people up on the
platform. An ethereal mist of silent breath lifted in the still, golden,
lateafternoon air.
As he conducted the wedding ceremony, Zedd's back was to her. Kahlan
was fascinated to see his wavy white hair, perpetually in disarray, now
brushed and smoothed down. He wore his fine maroon robes with black sleeves
and cowled shoulders. Silver brocade circled the cuffs, while gold brocade
ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold
buckle gathered the outfit at his waist. Adie stood beside him, wearing her
simple sorceress's robes with their yellow and red beads at the neckline.
Somehow, the contrast looked as grand.
Verna wore a rich violet dress done up with gold stitching at the
square neckline.
The intricate gold needlework ran down the tight sleeves showing under
slashed sham sleeves tied at the elbow with gold ribbon. The delicate
smocking over the midriff extending in a funnel shape down into a gored
skirt flaring nearly to the floor. Vema's wavy brown hair was festooned with
blue, gold, and crimson flowers the sisters had made from little pieces of
silk. With her serene smile, she made a beautiful sorceress bride standing
beside the handsome blond groom in his violet wizard's robes.
Everyone seemed to lean in a little as the ceremony reached the climax.
"Do you, Vema, take this wizard to be your husband for life," Zedd went
on in a clear tone that carried out over the crowd, "mindful of his gift and
duty to it, and swear to both love and honor him without pause for as long
as you live?"
"I do," Vema said in a silken voice.
"Do you, Warren," Adie said, her voice all the more raspy in contrast
to Vema's, "take this sorceress to be your wife for life, mindful of her
gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor her without pause for
as long as you live?
"I do," Warren said in a confident tone.
"Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, sorceress, as being
agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union." Zedd raised
"Faith and feelings. Harold, you are as mad as your sister."
She drew herself up straight and folded her hands. She shared a last
look with her half brother, a man she had never known, except in name, as
she pronounced sentence on him.
"Beginning at sunrise tomorrow, the D'Haran Empire and Galea are at
war. After sunrise tomorrow, if you are seen by me or any of our men, you
will be put to death for the crime of treason.
"I will not allow those brave men out there to die for traitors. The
Imperial Order will, in all likelihood, turn north up the Callisidrin
Valley. You will be alone. They will butcher every man in your army, just as
they butchered the people of Ebinissia. Jagang will give your sister to his
men, as a whore.
"It will be by your doing, Harold, for refusing to use your ability to
think, and instead following your feelings and faith in what does not
exist."
Harold, hands clasped behind his back, chin held up, said nothing as
Kahlan continued.
"Tell Cyrilla that she had better hope for the fate I have just
described, because if the Order does not come through Galea, I will. I have
promised no mercy to the Order. Galea's treason condemns her to the same
fate as the Order. If the Order does not get Cyrilla, then I swear I will,
and when I get her, I am going to take her back to Aydindril and I'm going
to personally throw her back down into that pit from which you rescued her,
and I am going to leave her down there with every criminal brute I can find
for as long as she lives."
Harold's jaw dropped. "Mother Confessor . . . you wouldn't."
Kahlan's eyes told him otherwise. "You be sure to tell Cyrilla what's
in store for her. Jebra probably tried to tell her, and was thrown in a
dungeon for it. Cyrilla is refusing to see the open pit before her, and you
are walking into it with her. Worse, you are taking your innocent people
with you."
Kahlan drew her royal Galean sword. She grasped either end in a hand.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled the flat of the blade against her knee. The
steel bent, then finally snapped with a loud report. She tossed the broken
blade on the floor at his feet.
"Now get out of my sight."
He turned to leave, but before he took a step, Zedd stood, holding out
a hand as if to ask him to remain where he was.
"Mother Confessor," Zedd said, choosing his words carefully. "I believe
you are letting your emotions get in the way."
Harold gestured to Kahlan, relieved to hear Zedd's intercession. "Tell
her, Wizard Zorander. Tell her."
Kahlan couldn't believe her ears. She remained where she was, staring
into
Zedd's hazel eyes. "Then would you mind explaining my error of emotion,
First Wizard?"
Zedd glanced at Harold and then back to Kahlan. "Mother Confessor,
Queen Cyrilla is obviously deranged. Prince Harold is not only doing her a
disservice, but enabling her to bring only the specter of death to her
people. If he chose the side of reason, he would be protecting his people,
and honoring his sister's past admirable service when she was of sound mind.
"Instead, he has betrayed his duty to his people by embracing what he
wishes to be true about her instead of facing what is true. In this way, he
is embracing death, and in this case, embracing death for his people, too.
"Prince Harold has been justly found guilty of treason. Your emotions
for him
are interfering with your judgment. Obviously, he is now a danger to
our cause, to
the lives of our people, and to the lives of his own people. He cannot
be allowed to
leave." -
Harold looked thunderstruck. "But Zedd. . ."
Zedd's hazel eyes, too, were a terrible pronouncement of guilt. He
waited, as if challenging the man to further prove his treason. Harold's
mouth moved, but he could offer no words.
"Does anyone disagree with me?" Zedd asked.
He looked at Adie. She shook her head. Verna likewise shook her head.
Warren stared at Harold for a moment, then shook his head.
Harold's expression turned indignant. "I'm not going to stand for this.
The Mother Confessor has given me until dawn to withdraw. You must honor her
sentence."
He took two strides toward the door, but then paused, clutching his
chest. Twisting slowly as he started to sink, his eyes rolling up in his
head. His legs folded and he crashed to the floor.
Kahlan sat stunned. No one moved or said anything. General Meiffert
went down on one knee beside the body, checking Prince Harold for breath or
pulse. The general looked up at Kahlan and shook his head.
She passed her gaze from Zedd, to Adie, to Verna, to Warren. None
revealed anything in their expression.
Kahlan stood and spoke softly. "I don't ever want to know which one of
you did this. I'm not saying you were wrong . . . I just don't want to
know."
The four gifted people nodded.
At the door, Kahlan stood in the bright sunlight a moment, feeling the
cold air on her face, searching, until she saw Captain Ryan leaning against
a stout young maple tree. He stood at attention as she strode out to him
through the snow.
"Bradley, did Prince Harold tell you why he was coming here?"
Calling him by his given name, rather than his rank, changed the nature
of the question. His rigid posture slackened.
"Yes, Mother Confessor. He said he had to tell you that he had been
ordered back by his queen to defend Galea, and that he was further ordered
to bring his men serving with you back to Galea with him."
"Then what are you doing here? Why did you and your men come along, if
he was to take everyone back?"
He lifted his square jaw and looked at her with clear blue eyes.
"Because we deserted, Mother Confessor."
"You what?"
"Prince Harold gave me his orders, as I just reported them. I told him
that it was wrong, and could only harm our people. He said it was not for me
to decide such things. He said it was not for me to think, but to follow
orders.
"I've fought with you, Mother Confessor. I believe I know you better
than Prince Harold does-I know you are devoted to protecting the lives of
the people of the Midlands. I told him that what Cyrilla was doing was
wrong. He was angry, and said it was my duty to follow my orders.
"I told him that, in that case, I was deserting the Galean army and was
going to stand with you, instead. I thought he was going to have me put to
death for disobeying him, but he would have had to put all thousand of us to
death because all the men felt the same way. A good many came forward to
tell him so. The fire seemed to go out of him, then, and he let us ride down
here with him.
"I hope you aren't angry with us, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan couldn't force herself to be the Mother Confessor at that
moment. She put her arms around him.
"Thank you, Bradley."
She gripped his shoulders and smiled at him through her watery vision.
"You used your head. I couldn't be angry with that."
"You told us once we were a badger trying to swallow an ox whole. Looks
to me you've taken to trying to do the same thing. If there ever was a
badger who could swallow an ox whole, it would be you, Mother Confessor, but
I guess we wouldn't want you to try it without us to help you do it."
They turned then and saw General Meiffert directing some of his men.
They were carrying Prince Harold's limp body out of the lodge, holding him
by the shoulders and feet. His hands dragged through the snow.
"I figured this wasn't going to come to any good end," the young
captain said. "Ever since Cyrilla was hurt, Prince Harold just never seemed
himself. I always loved the man. It hurt me to have to desert him. But he
just wasn't making sense anymore."
Kahlan put a comforting hand on his shoulder as they watched the body
being carried away.
"I'm sorry, Bradley. Like you, I always thought highly of him. I guess
seeing his sister and his queen so long held in the grip of that kind of
sickness just brought him to his wits' end. Try to keep your good memories
of him."
"I will, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan changed the subject. "I'll need one of your men to take a
message to Cyrilla. I was going to have Harold take it, but now we'll need a
messenger."
"I will see to it, Mother Confessor."
She only then realized how cold it was outside, and that she didn't
have a cloak. As the captain went to get his men quartered and to pick out a
man to act as a messenger, Kahlan went back inside the lodge.
Cara was putting more wood on the hearth. Verna and Adie had gone.
Warren was selecting a rolled map from the basket of maps and diagrams in
the corner.
As he was leaving; Kahlan caught Warren's arm. She looked into the
wizard's blue eyes, knowing they were much older than they appeared. Richard
had always said that Warren was one of the smartest people he had ever met.
Besides that, Warren's true talent was said to lie in the area of prophecy.
"Warren, are we all going to die in this mad war?"
His face softened with a shy but impish grin. "I thought you didn't
believe in prophecy, Kahlan."
She released his arm. "I guess I don't. Never mind."
Cara, leaving to find some more firewood, followed Warren out. Kahlan
warmed herself before the hearth as she stared at Spirit standing on the
mantel. Zedd rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"What you had to say to Harold about using your mind, about reason, was
very wise, Kahlan. You were right."
Her fingers touched the buttery smooth walnut robes of Spirit. "It was
what Richard said, when he was telling me what he had finally come to
understand about what he had to do. He said the only sovereign he could
allow to rule him was reason."
"Richard said that? Those were his very words?"
Kahlan nodded as she gazed at Spirit. "He said the first law of reason
is that what exists, exists; what is, is, and that from this irreducible,
bedrock principle, all knowledge is built. He said that was the foundation
from which life is embraced.
"He said thinking is a choice, and that wishes and whims are not facts,
nor are they a means to discover them. I guess Harold proved the point.
Richard said reason is our only way of grasping reality-that it's our basic
tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking-to reject
reason-but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to
see."
She listened to the fire crackling at her feet as she let her gaze
wander over the lines of the figure he had carved for her. When she heard
nothing from Zedd, she looked over her shoulder. He was staring into the
flames, a tear running down his cheek.
"Zedd, what's wrong?"
"The boy figured it out himself." The old wizard's voice was the uneasy
sum of loneliness and quiet pride. "He understands it-he interpreted it
perfectly. He even came to it on his own, by applying it."
"Came to what?"
"The most important rule there is, the Wizard's Sixth Rule: the only
sovereign you can allow to rule you is reason."
Reflections of the firelight danced in his hazel eyes. "The Sixth Rule
is the hub upon which all rules turn. It is not only the most important
rule, but the simplest. Nonetheless, it is the one most often ignored and
violated, and by far the most despised. It must be wielded in spite of the
ceaseless, howling protests of the wicked.
"Misery, iniquity, and utter destruction lurk in the shadows outside
its full light, where half-truths snare the faithful disciples, the deeply
feeling believers, the selfless followers.
"Faith and feelings are the warm marrow of evil. Unlike reason, faith
and feelings provide no boundary to limit any delusion, any whim. They are a
virulent poison, giving the numbing illusion of moral sanction to every
depravity ever hatched.
"Faith and feelings are the darkness to reason's light.
"Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life
is wholly embraced through reason, through this rule. In rejecting it, in
rejecting reason, one embraces death."
By the next morning, about half of the Galean force had vanished,
returning to their homeland and queen as ordered by Prince Harold before his
death. The rest, like Captain Ryan and his young soldiers, remained loyal to
the D'Haran Empire.
Lieutenant Leiden, the former general, and his entire force of Keltish
troops had also departed by morning. He left Kahlan a letter, in it saying
that with Galea choosing to break with the D'Haran Empire, he had to return
to help protect Kelton, as surely the selfish actions of the Galeans meant
the Order would be more likely to come up the Kern River Valley and threaten
Kelton. He wrote that he hoped the Mother Confessor would realize how grave
was the danger to Kelton, and understand that it was not his intention to
desert her or the D'Haran Empire, but simply to help protect his people.
Kahlan knew of the men leaving; General Meiffert and Warren had come to
tell her. She had expected it, and had been watching. She told General
Meiffert to allow them to leave if they wished. War in their camp could come
to no good end. The morale of the remaining men was boosted by a sense of
being on the right side, and of doing the right thing.
That afternoon, as she was drafting an urgent letter to General
Baldwin, commander of all Keltish forces, General Meiffert and Captain Ryan
came to see her. After listening to their plan, she granted Captain Ryan
permission to go with a like number of General Meiffert's handpicked D'Haran
special forces to conduct raids on the Imperial Order force. Warren and six
Sisters were sent to accompany them.
With the Imperial Order having moved so far back to the south, Kahlan
needed information on what they were doing and what shape their force was
in. More than that, though, with the foul weather in their favor, she wanted
to keep pressure on the enemy. Captain Bradley Ryan and his band of nearly a
thousand were experienced mountain fighters and had grown up in just such
harsh conditions. Kahlan had fought beside the captain and his young Galean
soldiers, and had helped train them in the ways of fighting a vastly
superior force. If only the enemy force did not number over a million . . .
General Meiffert's special forces, which, until Kahlan had promoted
him, he had ably commanded, were now led by Captain Zimmer, a young, square
jawed, bullnecked D'Haran with an infectious smile. They were everything
Captain Ryan's young men were, tripled: experienced, businesslike under
stress, tireless, fearless, and coolly efficient at killing. What made most
soldiers blanch made them grin.
They preferred fighting just such as this, where they were free of
massive battlefield tactics and could instead use their special skills. They
treasured being let off the leash to do what they did best. Rather than
check them, Kahlan gave them a free hand.
Each of those D'Harans collected enemy ears.
They felt a great fidelity to Kahlan, in part because she didn't try to
rein them in and integrate them into the larger army, and, perhaps more so,
because when they returned from missions, she always asked to see their
strings of ears. They relished being appreciated.
Kahlan intended to later send them to collect Galean ears.
Kahlan glanced over her shoulder at the Prelate bent over the map
basket in the corner. It had been almost a full phase of the moon since
Warren had left on the mission with captains Ryan and Zimmer. Although it
was difficult to judge accurately just how long such missions would last,
they should have been back by now. Kahlan knew all too well the kind of
worry that had to be churning beneath the woman's no-nonsense exterior.
"Verna," Kahlan asked as she rubbed her arms, "on your way past, could
you throw some more wood on the fire, please?"
Cara hopped down off her stool, where she was perched, watching over
Kahlan's shoulder. "I'll do it."
Verna pulled a map free and, on her way back to the table, thanked
Cara. "Here it is, Zedd. I think this better shows the area you're talking
about."
Zedd unfurled the new map over the top of the one already laid out on
the table before Kahlan. It was a larger scale, giving a more detailed look
at the southern regions of the Midlands.
"Yes," Zedd drawled as he peered at the new map. "See here?" He tapped
the Drun River. "See how narrow the lowlands are down south, through here?
That's what I was talking about. Rough country, with cliffs in places
hemming the river. That's why I don't think they would try to go up the Drun
Valley."
"I suppose you're right," Verna said.
"Besides"-Kahlan waggled a finger over the area to the north on the
first map"up this way is mostly only Nicobarese. They are rather isolated,
and so a tempting target, but they aren't a wealthy land. The plunder and
trade goods would be slim. The Order has much more opportunity for conquest
if they stay over here. Besides, can you see how difficult it would be for
them to get their army back over the Rang'Shada mountains, if they went up
the Drun? Strategically, it wouldn't make as much sense for them to go up
that way."
Verna idly twiddled with a button on her blue dress as she studied the
map. "Yes . . . I see what you mean."
"But your point is well taken," Kahlan said. "It wouldn't be a bad idea
if you sent a Sister or two to watch that area; just because it doesn't make
as much logistic sense, that doesn't mean Jagang wouldn't try it. Come
spring, he's bound to move on us. We wouldn't want to be surprised to find
the Imperial Order storming in the back door to Aydindril."
Cara answered the knock at the door. It was a head scout named Hayes.
Kahlan stood when she saw through the open door and nearby trees that
Captain Ryan was also making his way toward the lodge.
Hayes saluted with a fist to his heart.
"Glad to see you back, Corporal Hayes," Kahlan said.
"Thank you, Mother Confessor. It's good to be back."
He looked like he could use a meal. After Captain Ryan rushed in
through the door, Cara pushed it shut against the blowing snow. Hayes
stepped to the side, out of the way of the captain.
Kahlan was relieved to see the young Galean officer. "How did
everything go, Captain? How is everyone?"
He pulled off his scarf and wool hat as he caught his breath; Verna
looked to be holding hers.
"Good," the captain said. "We did well. The Sisters were able to heal
some of our wounded. Some needed to be transported for a ways before the
Sisters could see to them. That slowed us. We had a few losses, but not as
many as we feared. Warren was a great help."
"Where is Warren?" Zedd asked.
As if bidden by his name, Warren came in through the door, escorted by
a swirling gust of snow. Kahlan squinted at the slash of bright light until
the door was pushed shut once more. She caught the look on Verna's face, and
recalled how lighthearted she always felt to see Richard back safely when
they had been separated. Warren casually kissed Verna on the cheek with a
quick peck. Kahlan noticed the look they shared, even if no one else did.
She was happy for them, but still, the reminder was like a jab at the pain
of her helpless heartache and worry over Richard.
"Did you tell them?" Warren asked, unbuttoning his cloak.
"No," Captain Ryan said. "We haven't had a chance yet."
Zedd's brow drew down. "Tell us what?"
Warren heaved a sigh. "Well, Verna's special glass worked better than
we thought it had. We captured several men and questioned them at length.
The ones we saw dead in the valley were only the ones who died at first."
Verna helped Warren shed his heavy, snow-crusted cloak. She put it on
the floor by the fire, where Captain Ryan had laid his brown coat to dry.
"It seems," Warren went on, "that there were a great many-maybe another
sixty, seventy thousand-who didn't go blind, but who lost the sight in one
eye, or have impaired vision. The Order couldn't very well abandon them,
because they can still see well enough to stay with the rest, but more
important, it's hoped that maybe those men will heal, and regain full use of
their sight-and their ability to fight."
"Not likely," Verna said.
"I don't think so, either," Warren said, "but that's what they are
thinking, anyway. Another goodly number, maybe twenty five or thirty
thousand, are sick---their eyes and noses red and horribly infected."
Verna nodded. "The glass will do that."
"Then some more, maybe half that number, are having breathing
difficulty."
"So," Kahlan said, "with those killed and those injured enough to keep
them from being effective fighters, that makes somewhere near one hundred
fifty thousand put out of the way by the glass dust. Quite an
accomplishment, Verna."
Verna looked as pleased as Kahlan. "It was worth that horse ride
scaring the wits out of me. It wouldn't have worked had you not thought of
doing it that way."
"What kind of success did you have, Captain?" Cara asked as she came to
stand behind Kahlan.,
"Captain Zimmer and I had the kind of success we hoped for. I'd guess
we took out maybe ten thousand in the time we were down there."
Zedd let out a slow whistle. "Pretty heavy fighting."
"Not really. Not the way the Mother Confessor taught us to do it, and
not the way Captain Zimmer works, either. Mostly we eliminate the enemy as
efficiently as possible, and try to keep from having to fight at all. If you
slit a man's throat in his sleep, you can accomplish a lot more, and you're
less likely to get hurt yourself."
Kahlan smiled. "I'm glad you were such a good student."
Captain Ryan lifted a thumb. "Warren and the Sisters were a great help
at getting us where we needed to be without being discovered. Any word about
the white cloaks, yet? We could really use them. I can tell you for a fact
that they would have enabled us to do more."
"We just got in our first load the day before yesterday," Kahlan told
him. "More than enough for your men and Captain Zimmer's. We'll have more
within a few days."
Captain Ryan rubbed his hands, warming his fingers. "Captain Zimmer
will be pleased."
Zedd gestured to the south. "Did you find out why they withdrew so far
back over ground they'd taken?"
Warren nodded. "From the men we questioned, we found out that they have
fever going through their camp. Nothing we did, just your regular fever that
happens in such crowded camp conditions in the field. But they've lost tens
of thousands of men to the fever. They wanted to withdraw to put some
distance between us, give themselves some breathing room. They aren't
concerned about being able to push us out of their way when they wish."
That made sense. With their numbers, it was only natural for them to be
confident, even cavalier, about dealing with any opposition. Kahlan couldn't
understand why Warren and Captain Ryan looked so downhearted. She sensed
that, despite their good news, there was something amiss.
"Dear spirits," Kahlan said, trying to give them some cheer. "Their
numbers are dwindling away like snow beside the hearth. This is better
than-"
Warren held up a hand. "I asked Hayes, here, to come and give you his
report firsthand. I think you had better hear him out."
Kahlan motioned the man to come forward. He stepped smartly up to her
table and snapped to attention.
"Let's hear what you have to report, Corporal Hayes."
His face looked chalky, and despite the cold, he was sweating.
"Mother Confessor, my scout team was down to the southeast, watching
the routes in from the wilds, and watching, too in case the Order tried to
swing wide around us. Well, I guess the short of it is, we spotted a column
making its way west to resupply and reinforce the Order."
"They're a big army," Kahlan said. "They would have supplies sent from
their homeland to augment what they can get as spoils. A supply column would
have men guarding them."
"I followed them for a week, just to get an accurate count."
"How many," Kahlan asked.
"Well over a quarter million, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan's flesh tingled as if icy needles were dancing over it.
"How many?" Verna asked.
"At least two hundred and fifty thousand men at arms, plus drivers and
civilians with the supplies."
Everything they had worked for, all the sacrifices, all the struggle to
whittle down the Imperial Order, had just been nullified. Worse than
nullified, their work had been erased, and nearly that many more had been
added to the force the enemy had started with.
"Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered, "how many men does the Old World have
to throw at us?"
When she met Warren's gaze, she knew that this number, even, was hardly
surprising to him.
Warren gestured to the scout. "Hayes saw only the first group. The men
we captured told us about the reinforcements. We weren't sure they were
telling us the truth-we thought they might be trying to spook us-but then we
met up with Corporal Hayes, on his way back. We did some further questioning
and scoutingthat's why we were delayed in returning."
"Another quarter million . . ." Kahlan's words trailed off. It all
seemed so hopeless.
Warren cleared his throat. "That is just the first column of fresh
troops. More are coming."
Kahlan went to the hearth and warmed her hands as she stared into the
flames. She was standing beneath the statue Richard had carved for her, to
make her feel better. Kahlan wished that at that moment she could recall the
defiant feeling Spirit portrayed. It felt as if she could only contemplate
death.
--]----
The news of the Imperial Order reinforcements, just as the news of
departure of the Galeans and Keltans, spread through the camp faster than a
storm wind. Kahlan, Zedd, Warren, Verna, Adie, General Meiffert, and all the
rest of the officers held nothing back from the men. Those men were risking
their lives daily and had a right to the truth. If Kahlan was passing
through the camp, and a soldier was brave enough to ask her, she told him
what she knew. She tried to give them confidence, too, but she didn't lie to
them.
The men, having struggled for so long, were beyond fear. The bleak mood
was a palpable pall smothering the spark of life out of them. They went
about their tasks as if numb, accepting their fate, which now seemed sealed,
resigned to the inevitable. The New World offered no shelter, no safe place,
nowhere to hide from the boundless menace of the Imperial Order.
Kahlan showed the soldiers a determined face. She had no choice.
Captain Ryan and his men, having been through such despair before, were less
troubled by the news. They couldn't die; they were already dead. Along with
Kahlan, the young Galeans had long ago taken an oath of the dead, and could
only be returned to life when the Order was destroyed.
None of it mattered much to Captain Zimmer and his men. They knew what
needed to be done, and they simply kept at it. Each of them now had multiple
strings of ears. They began new strings at one hundred. It was a matter of
honor to them that they kept only the right ear, so no two ears could be
from the same man.
Representative Theriault of Herjborgue was as good as his word. The
white wool cloaks, hats, and mittens arrived weekly, helping hide the men
who regularly went on missions, while the weather was in their favor, to
attack the Imperial Order. With the sickness in the Order's camp leaving so
many of them weak, along with so
many of the enemy having impaired vision, those missions were
extraordinarily successful. Troops wearing the concealing cloaks were also
sent to lie in wait and intercept any supply trains, hoping to neutralize
the reinforcements before they could join with the enemy's main force.
Still, the attacks were little more than an annoyance to the Order.
Kahlan, after a meeting with a group just returned, found Zedd alone in
the lodge, looking over the latest information that had been added to the
maps.
"Good fortune," she said when he looked up, watching as she removed her
fur mantle. "The men who just got in had few casualties, and they caught a
large group out on patrol. They were able to cut them off and take them all
out, including one of Jagang's Sisters."
"Then why the long face?"
She could only lift her hands in a forsaken gesture of futility.
"Try not to be so disheartened," Zedd told her. "Despair is often war's
handmaiden. I can't tell you how many years it was, back when I was young,
that everyone fighting for their lives in that war back then thought that it
was only a matter of time until we were crushed. We went on to win."
"I know, Zedd. I know." Kahlan rubbed at the chill in her hands. She
almost hated to say it, but she finally did. "Richard wouldn't come to lead
the army because he said that the way things stand now, we can't win. He
said whether or not we fight the Order, the world will fall under its
shadow, and if we fight, it will only result in more death-that our side
will be destroyed, the Order would still rule the world, and any chance for
winning in the future would be lost."
Zedd peered at her with one eye. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Richard said we can't win, but, dear spirits, I can't let myself
believe that. I would rather die fighting to be free, to help keep my people
free, than to live the death of a slave. Yet, I know I'm violating Richard's
wishes, his advice, and his orders. I gave him my word .... I feel as if I'm
treading the quicksand of betrayal, and taking everyone with me."
She searched his face for some sign that Richard might have been wrong.
"You said that he had figured out the Wizard's Sixth Rule on his own-that we
must use our minds to see the reality of the way things are. I had hopes. I
thought he had to be wrong about the futility of this war, but now. . ."
Zedd smiled to himself, as if finding fancy in something she saw as
only horrifying.
"This is going to be a long war. It is far from beyond hope, much less
decided. This is the agony of leadership in such a struggle-the doubts, the
fears, the feelings of hopelessness. Those are feelings-not necessarily
reality. Not yet. We have much yet to bring to bear.
"Richard said what he believed based on the way matters stood at the
time he said them. Who is to say that the people are not now prepared to
prove themselves to him? Prove themselves ready to reject the Order? Perhaps
what Richard needed in order for him to commit to the battle, has already
come about."
"But I know how strongly he warned me against joining this battle. He
meant what he said. Still . . . I don't have Richard's strength, the
strength to turn my back and let it happen." Kahlan gestured to her inkstand
on the table. "I've sent letters asking that more troops be sent down here."
He smiled again, as if to say that proved it could be done.
"It will take continual effort to grind down the enemy's numbers. I
think we
have yet to deal the Order a truly serious blow, but we will. The
Sisters and I will come up with something. You never know in matters of this
kind. It could be that we will suddenly do something that will send them
reeling."
Kahlan smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Thanks, Zedd. I'm so thankful
to have you with us." Her gaze wandered to Spirit, standing proudly above
the hearth. She stepped over to the mantel, as if to an altar that held the
sacred carving. "Dear spirits, I miss him."
It was a question without the words, hoping he would surprise her with
something that he had thought of to help get Richard back.
"I know, dear one. I miss him, too. He's alive-that's the most
important thing."
Kahlan could only nod.
Zedd clapped his hands together, as if taken with a gleeful thought.
"What we need, more than anything, is something to get everyone's mind off
of the task at hand for a while. Something to give them a reason to cheer
together for a while. It would do them more good than anything."
Kahlan frowned over her shoulder. "Like what? You mean some kind of
game, or something?"
His face was all screwed up in musing. "I don't know. Something happy.
Something to show them that the Order can't stop us from living our lives.
Can't stop us from the enjoyment of life-of what life is really all about."
He stroked a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw. "Any ideas?"
"Well, I can't really think of-"
Just then, Warren strode in. "Just got a report from over in the Drun
Valley. Our lucky day-no activity, as we expected."
He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still holding the door lever,
looking from Kahlan to Zedd and back again.
"What's the matter? What's going on? Why are you two looking at me like
that?"
Verna came up behind Warren and gave him a shove into the lodge. "Go
on, go on, get in there. Close the door. What's the matter with you? It's
freezing out there."
Verna huffed and shut the door herself. When she turned around and saw
Zedd and Kahlan, she backed a step.
"Vema, Warren," Zedd said in a honeyed voice, "come on in, won't you?"
Verna scowled. "What are you two scheming and grinning at?"
"Well," Zedd drawled as he winked at Kahlan, "the Mother Confessor and
I were just discussing the big event."
Verna's scowl darkened as she leaned in. "What big event? I've heard
nothing about any big event."
Even Warren, rarely given to scowling, was scowling now. "That's right.
What big event?"
"Your wedding," Zedd said.
Both Verna and Warren's scowls evaporated as they straightened. They
were overcome with surprised, silly, radiant grins.
"Really?" Warren asked.
"Really?" Verna asked.
"Yes, really," Kahlan said.
It took more than two weeks to prepare for Verna and Warren's wedding.
It wasn't that it couldn't have been done more quickly, but rather, as Zedd
had explained to Kahlan, he wanted-to "drag out the whole affair." He wanted
to give everyone ample time to ponder it and to dream up lavish doings; time
to organize, to make decorations, to cook special foods, to get the camp
ready for a grand party; time to have a stretch where everyone could gossip
about it as they eagerly looked forward to the big event.
The soldiers, at first merely pleased, soon got caught up in the spirit
of the occasion. It became a grand diversion.
They all liked Warren. He was the sort of man that everyone felt a
little sorry for, a bit protective of-the awkward shy type. Most didn't have
the foggiest understanding of many of the things he babbled about. They
thought that he just wasn't the type who would ever win a woman. That he
had, to them seemingly against all odds, gave the men an inner pride that he
was one of theirs, and he had done it: he'd won a woman's heart. It gave
them hope that they might one day have a wedding, a wife, and a family, even
if they were afraid that they, too, were often awkward and shy.
The men even openly expressed happiness for Verna. She was a woman they
respected, but had never exactly felt warmly toward. Their bold well-wishes
flummoxed her.
The entire camp was caught up in the spirit of the event even more than
Kahlan had hoped. After a brief pause in the beginning, while it sank in,
the men, so weary not only of fighting against such odds, the loss of
friends, and being in the field away from their homes and loved ones for so
long, but also the harsh, difficult, dreary weather, took to the diversion
with gusto.
A large central area was cleared-tents moved, and the area cleaned of
snow down to the bare ground. At the head of the cleared area, they built a
platform-laid across anchored supply wagonsatop which the wedding was to
take place. The platform was needed so that the men would have a better
chance to see the ceremony. A dance area was set aside and those men with
musical instruments, and not out on duty, spent night and day practicing. A
choir was formed and went off to a secluded ravine to rehearse. Wherever
Kahlan went, she could hear pipes and drums, or the piercing notes of a
shawm, or the melodic chords of strings. Men came to fear playing off-key
more than they feared the Imperial Order.
With over a hundred Sisters available, it was suggested that there
could be dancing after the ceremony. The Sisters liked the idea, until they
started doing the math and realized how many men there were to each woman,
and how much dancing they would be doing. Still, they were titillated at the
prospect of having attention lavished
on them at a dance, and approved the idea. Women centuries old were
blushing like girls again at all the requests from men in their teens and
twenties for the promise of a turn with them at the wedding dance.
As the wedding approached the men made streets, of sorts, in a winding
course through the camp, so that after the ceremony, the wedding party could
pass in review through the entire camp. All the men wanted a chance to be a
part in greeting the newly married couple and wishing them well.
Kahlan had the idea that, after the wedding, Warren and Verna should
have the lodge. It was to be her wedding gift to them, so, for the most
part, she kept it a secret. Kahlan had Cara direct the public pretense of
having a tent set aside and reserved for the newly married couple. Cara
moved Verna's things in the tent, and freshened it up with herbs and frozen
sprigs with wild berries. The diversion worked; Verna believed the tent was
to be hers and Warren's, and wouldn't let him into it until after they were
married.
The day of the wedding dawned with sparkling blue skies, and wasn't so
cold that people were likely to get frostbite. The fresh snow of the day
before was quickly cleared out of the central area so that the festivities
could take place without the Sisters getting snow down their boots as they
danced. Some of the Sisters came out to inspect the dance floor, sauntering
around, giving the men a look at who they might get to have a turn with-if
they were lucky. It was all done with much humor and good cheer.
While Verna spent the early afternoon in her tent, submitting to having
her hair fussed over, her face painted, and her wedding dress tended to by a
gaggle of Sisters, Kahlan was finally able to have the secrecy she needed in
order to decorate the lodge. Inside, she secured fragrant, feathery, balsam
boughs to a cord and draped it in swags around the top of every wall. She
tied red berries-as that was all she could come by-into the boughs to give
them some color.
One of the Sisters had given Kahlan some plain weave fabric that Kahlan
had made into a curtain for the window. She had worked on it when she
retired to the lodge at night, stitching designs to give the simple material
a lacy look. She kept it under her bed so that when they came in to go over
battlefield strategy, Verna and Warren wouldn't know what she was doing.
Kahlan was finally able to put the scented candles, donated by different
Sisters as gifts, all around the room, and at last hang the curtain on a
straight limb she stripped of bark.
The one thing Kahlan wouldn't leave to brighten the lodge for the newly
wedded couple was Spirit. That, she would take to her new tent.
As Kahlan was making up the bed with fresh bedding, Cara came in with
an armload of something blue.
Kahlan folded the blanket under the foot of the straw-filled mattress
as she watched Cara shut the door.
"What have you got there?"
"You won't believe it," Cara said with a grin. "Wide blue silk ribbon.
The Sisters have Verna tied to a chair while they're fussing over her, and
Zedd has Warren off doing something, so I thought you and I could use the
ribbon to decorate the place a little. Drape it around. Make it look
pretty." She pointed. "Like up there-we could wind it around the balsam you
hung to give it a fancy look."
Kahlan blinked in surprise. "What a good idea."
She didn't know what was more astonishing, actually seeing Cara with
blue silk ribbon, or hearing her say "decorate" and "pretty" in the same
breath. She smiled
to herself, happy to have heard such a thing. Zedd was more of a wizard
than he knew.
Kahlan and Cara each stood on a log round, working their way along the
wall as they wove the ribbon through and around the swagged balsam boughs.
It was so beautiful seeing the first wall completed that Kahlan couldn't
stop gazing and grinning. They started in on the second wall, opposite the
door, using extra ribbon for best effect when Verna and Warren first entered
and saw their new place.
"Where did you ever get all this ribbon, away?" Kahlan asked around a
mouthful of pins.
"Benjamin got it for me." Cara chuckled as she threaded the ribbon
around the cord. "Can you believe it? He made me promise not to ask him
where he got it from."
Kahlan took the pins from her mouth. "Who?"
"Who what?" Cara mumbled before she stuck her tongue out the corner of
her mouth while wiggling a pin into a tight place.
"Who did you say got you the ribbon?"
Cara lifted another length of blue silk to the ceiling. "General
Meiffert. I don't have a clue where he-"
"You said Benjamin."
Cara lowered the ribbon and stared at Kahlan. "No I didn't."
"Yes, you did. You said Benjamin."
"I said General Meiffert. You only thought-"
"I never knew that General Meiffert's first name was Benjamin."
"Well..."
"Is `Benjamin' General Meiffert's first name?"
Had Cara been wearing her red leather, her face would have matched it.
As it was, her dark scowl matched the brown leather she had on.
"You know it is."
A smile grew on Kahlan's lips. "I do now."
--]----
Kahlan wore her white Mother Confessor's dress. She was a bit surprised
to notice that it fit a little loosely, but all things considered, she
supposed it was to be expected. Because of the cold, she also wore the wolf
fur mantle Richard had made for her, but draped it around her shoulders more
like a stole. She stood with her back straight and chin held high,
overseeing the ceremony and gazing out at the tens of thousands of quiet
faces. Behind her was a rich verdant wall of woven boughs that enabled
distant spectators to more easily pick out the six people up on the
platform. An ethereal mist of silent breath lifted in the still, golden,
lateafternoon air.
As he conducted the wedding ceremony, Zedd's back was to her. Kahlan
was fascinated to see his wavy white hair, perpetually in disarray, now
brushed and smoothed down. He wore his fine maroon robes with black sleeves
and cowled shoulders. Silver brocade circled the cuffs, while gold brocade
ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold
buckle gathered the outfit at his waist. Adie stood beside him, wearing her
simple sorceress's robes with their yellow and red beads at the neckline.
Somehow, the contrast looked as grand.
Verna wore a rich violet dress done up with gold stitching at the
square neckline.
The intricate gold needlework ran down the tight sleeves showing under
slashed sham sleeves tied at the elbow with gold ribbon. The delicate
smocking over the midriff extending in a funnel shape down into a gored
skirt flaring nearly to the floor. Vema's wavy brown hair was festooned with
blue, gold, and crimson flowers the sisters had made from little pieces of
silk. With her serene smile, she made a beautiful sorceress bride standing
beside the handsome blond groom in his violet wizard's robes.
Everyone seemed to lean in a little as the ceremony reached the climax.
"Do you, Vema, take this wizard to be your husband for life," Zedd went
on in a clear tone that carried out over the crowd, "mindful of his gift and
duty to it, and swear to both love and honor him without pause for as long
as you live?"
"I do," Vema said in a silken voice.
"Do you, Warren," Adie said, her voice all the more raspy in contrast
to Vema's, "take this sorceress to be your wife for life, mindful of her
gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor her without pause for
as long as you live?
"I do," Warren said in a confident tone.
"Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, sorceress, as being
agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union." Zedd raised