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chance. We need you to be strong."
For a Mord-Sith, Rikka's little nod was about as close to a salute as
it came. After she was gone, Kahlan swatted at the plague of mosquitoes and
returned her attention to the map.
"So," she said, removing the two Agiel from the map, "who has any
suggestions?"
"I'd say we have to keep at their edges," Zedd offered. "Obviously, we
can't be
throwing ourselves in front of them. We can do nothing but to continue
to fight them as we have been doing."
"I agree," Verna said.
General Meiffert rubbed his chin as he stared down at the map spread
out before them on the table. "What we have to worry about is his size."
"Well, of course we have to worry about the size of the Order,;' Kahlan
said. "They have enough men to split up and still be too huge to handle.
That's what I'm talking about-what we're going to do when he splits. If I
were him, that's what I'd do. He knows how it would complicate our lives."
There was an urgent knock. Warren, over by the window, not bothering to
look at the map with the rest of them, opened the door.
Captain Zimmer stepped in, giving a quick salute of his fist to his
heart. Panting as he entered, he brought with him a swirling rush of warm
air that smelled like a horse. Ignoring the rest of them, Warren returned to
his brooding at the window.
"He's splitting his force," Captain Zimmer announced, as if their fear
had given birth to the reality.
Most in the room sighed unhappily with the news.
"Any direction, yet?" Kahlan asked.
Captain Zimmer nodded. "From the looks of it, he's sending maybe a
third, possibly a little more, up the Callisidrin Valley toward Galea. The
main force is heading to the northeast, probably to enter and go north up
the Kern Valley."
They all knew the eventual goal.
Zedd made a fist. "There's no joy in being right, but that's just what
Kahlan and I talked about. That was our guess."
General Meiffert was still rubbing his chin as he studied the map.
"It's an obvious move, but with the size of his force the obvious is not a
liability."
No one wanted to broach the issue, so Kahlan settled the matter. "Galea
is on its own. We're not sending any troops to help them."
Captain Zimmer finally waggled a finger at the map. "We need to put our
forces in front of their main force to slow them down. If we stay on their
heels instead, we will only be cleaning up the mess they make."
"I'd have to agree." The general shifted his weight to his other foot.
"We have no choice but to try to slow them. We'll have to keep giving
ground, but at least we can slow them. Otherwise, they are going to move up
through the center of the Midlands with the speed and power of a spring
flood."
Zedd was watching the young wizard off by himself at the window.
"Warren, what do you think?"
Warren looked up at the sound of his name, as if he hadn't been paying
attention. Something about him didn't look well. He took a breath and
straightened, his face brightening, making Kahlan think she had been
mistaken. Hands clasped behind his back, Warren strode to the table.
He peered at the map from over Verna's shoulder. "Forget Galea-it's a
lost cause. We cannot help them. They will suffer the sentence imposed upon
them by the Mother Confessor-not because she spoke the words, but because
her words were simple truth. Any troops we sent to help would be forfeit."
Zedd cast a sidelong glance at his fellow wizard. "What else?"
Warren finally moved closer to the table, wedging himself between Verna
and the general. With authority, he firmly planted his finger on the map,
far to the northalmost three-quarters of the way to Aydindril from where
they were camped.
"You have to go there."
General Meiffert frowned. "Up there? Why?"
"Because," Warren said, "you can't stop Jagang's army-his main force.
You can only hope to slow them as they move north, up into the Kern Valley.
This is where you must make a stand, if you hope to delay them next winter.
Once they move through you, they will be upon Aydindril."
"Move through us?" General Meiffert asked in an surly manner.
Warren looked up at him. "Well, do you suppose you are going to be able
to stop them? It wouldn't surprise me if by then they have three and a half
to four million men."
The general let out an ill-tempered breath. "Then why do you think we
should be at that spot-right in their way?"
"You can't stop them, but if you harry them sufficiently as they move
north, you can keep them from reaching Aydindril this year. At this spot,
they will be running out of time before the weather closes in. With a bit of
stiff resistance, you can grind them to a halt for the winter, buying
Aydindril one more season of freedom."
Warren looked up into Kahlan's eyes. "The following summer, a year from
now, Aydindril will fall. Prepare them for it in whatever way you are able,
but make no mistake: the city will fall to the Order."
Kahlan's blood ran cold. To hear him say the words aloud staggered her.
She wanted to slap him.
To contemplate the Imperial Order taking their attack into the heart of
the Midlands was horrifying. To accept, as foreordained, the Imperial Order
seizing the heart of the New World was unthinkable. Kahlan's mental image of
Jagang and his bloodthirsty thugs strolling the halls of the Confessors'
Palace sickened her.
Warren leaned around the general to look at Zedd. "The Wizard's Keep
must be protected-you know that better than 1. It would be the end of all
hope if their gifted were to gain the Keep and the dangerous things of magic
stored there. I think the time has come to keep that above all else in our
thinking. Holding the Keep is vital."
Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. "I could hold the Keep by
myself, if I had to."
Warren looked away from Zedd's hazel eyes. "You may have to," he said
in a quiet voice. "When we get to this place"-he tapped the map again-"then
you can do no more with the army, Zedd, and you must go to safeguard the
Wizard's Keep and the things of magic kept there."
Kahlan could feel the blood heating her face. "You're talking about
this as if it's all settled-as if it has been decided by fate and there is
nothing we can do about it. We can't win if we hold such a defeatist
attitude."
Warren smiled, his shy manner suddenly surfacing. "I'm sorry, Mother
Confessor. I didn't mean to give you that impression. I am only offering my
analysis of the facts of the situation. We aren't going to be able to stop
them-there's no use deluding ourselves about that. They grow larger by the
day. We must also take into account that there are going to be lands, such
as Anderith and Galea, which fear the Order and will join them rather than
suffer the brutal fate of those who refuse to surrender.
"I lived in the Old World as it fell, bit by bit, to the Imperial
Order. I've studied Jagang's methods. I know the man's patience. He
methodically conquered the entire Old World when such a feat seemed
inconceivable. He spent years building roads
just to be able to accomplish his plans. He never wavers from his goal.
There are times when you can anger or humiliate him into a rash action, but
he quickly comes to his senses.
"He quickly comes to his senses because he has a cause that is
paramount to him.
"You must understand something important about Jagang. It's the most
important thing I can tell you about the man: he believes with all his heart
that what he is doing is right. He revels in the glory of conquest and
victory, to be sure, but his deepest pleasure is being the one who has
brought what he sees as righteousness to those he views as heathens. He
believes that mankind can only advance, ethically, if they are all brought
under the moral authority of the Order."
"That's just nonsense," Kahlan said.
"You may think so, but he truly believes he is serving the cause of the
greater good for mankind. He believes piously in this. It is a sacred moral
truth to him and his ilk."
"He believes that murder, rape, and enslavement are just?" General
Meiffert asked. "He would have to be out of his mind."
"He was raised at the feet of priests of the Fellowship of Order."
Warren lifted a finger to make sure they all noted his point. "He believes
that all those things and more are justified. He believes that only the next
world matters, because then we will be in the eternal Light of the Creator.
The Order believes that you earn that reward in the next world by
sacrificing for your fellow man in this world. All those who refuse to see
this-that would be us-must either be brought to follow the Order's ways, or
die."
"So," General Meiffert said, "it's his sacred duty to crush us. It's
not plunder he seeks, primarily, but his bizarre version of the salvation of
mankind."
"Exactly."
"All right," Kahlan said with a sigh. "So, what do you think this holy
man of justice will do?"
"He basically has two choices, I believe. If he is to conquer the New
World and bring all of mankind under the authority of the Order, he must
take two important places, or he has not really succeeded: Aydindril,
because it is the seat of power in the Midlands, and the People's Palace in
D'Hara, because it reigns over the D'Haran people. If those two fall,
everything else will crumble. He could have gone for either. Emperor Jagang
has now made his choice of which falls first.
"The Imperial Order is going for Aydindril in order to split the
Midlands. Why else would they go north? What better way to defeat an enemy
than to cleave them in two? After they have Aydindril, they will turn their
swords to an isolated D'Hara. What better way to demoralize an enemy than to
first go for their heart?
"I am not saying that it is preordained, but merely telling you the way
the Order goes about its grisly work. This is the same thing Richard has
already figured out. Given that we can't realistically expect to stop them,
I think it only wise to face the reality of what is, don't you?"
Kahlan's gaze sank to the map. "I believe that in the darkest hours we
must believe in ourselves. I do not intend to surrender the D'Haran Empire
to the Imperial Order. We need to wage the best war we can until we can turn
it around."
"The Mother Confessor is right," Zedd insisted with quiet authority.
"The last great war I fought, in my youth, seemed just as hopeless for a
time. We prevailed, and drove the invaders back to the place from where they
had come."
None of the D'Haran officers said anything. It was D'Hara that was that
invader. "But things are different, now. That was a war pressed by an evil
leader." Zedd met the gaze of General Meiffert, Captain Zimmer, and the
other D'Haran officers. "Every side in a war has good people, just as they
all have the bad. Richard, as the new Lord Rahl, has given those good people
a chance to flourish.
"We must prevail in this. As difficult as it may now be to believe,
there are good people in the Old World, too, who would not wish to be under
the boot heel of the Order, or to press a war for the Order's reasons.
Nonetheless, we must stop them."
"So," Kahlan said, gesturing at the map before Warren, "how do you
think Jagang will press the war?"
Warren tapped the map again, to the south of Aydindril. "Knowing Jagang
and the way he conquers his opponents, I think he will stick to his grand
plan. He has a goal and will doggedly continue to move toward it. There is
nothing we have shown him that he has not seen from other opponents for his
whole life. With that experience, I'm sure he finds this war unexceptional.
I don't mean to discount our efforts-all war has its surprises, and we've
given him some nasty ones. I would say, though, that it is going largely as
he expected.
"It will take them the summer to advance to this place I've shown you,
given his usual pace and the fact that you will be harrying them. Jagang, in
general, has always moved slowly, but with unstoppable force. He will simply
pour in enough men to crush the opposition. He feels that if he takes time
to get to his enemy, it only gives them more time to tremble in fear of him.
When he finally arrives, his enemies are often ready to crumble from the
agony of the wait.
"If you put your force there, where I showed you, you will be able to
protect Aydindril next winter, as Jagang will be content to bide his time.
He has learned what a hardship the winters are in the New World. He will not
needlessly press a winter campaign. But in the summer, when they move again,
like they do now, then Aydindril will fall-whether or not you stand against
the weight of their main force. When they move on Aydindril, we must hold
the Wizard's Keep. That is all we can do."
The room was silent. The fire was cold, now. Warren and Verna had
already packed their things and were ready to go, as was most of the rest of
the army. Warren and Verna were losing their home. Kahlan glanced to the
side, letting her gaze linger on the curtains she had long ago made for
them. Their wedding seemed but a dim memory.
Her own wedding seemed but a distant dream. Every time she woke,
Richard seemed almost a ghost to her. Mind-numbing, relentless, never-ending
war seemed the only reality. There were occasional fleeting moments when she
thought that she might have only dreamed him, that he couldn't possibly have
really existed, that their long-ago happy summer home in the mountains never
happened. Those moments of doubt terrified her more than Jagang's army.
"Warren," Kahlan asked in a soft voice, "what then? What do you think
will happen the following summer, after they have taken Aydindril?"
Warren shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Jagang will be content to digest
Aydindril for a while, to establish firm control over the Midlands. He
believes it his duty to his Creator to bring all of mankind under the Order.
Sooner or later, he will move on D'Hara."
Kahlan finally directed her attention to Captain Zimmer.
"Captain, get your men ready. While we're getting all our supplies and
such on
the way, you might as well go and remind Jagang that we have kept our
blades sharp."
The captain grinned and clapped his fist to his heart.
Kahlan swept her gaze across everyone in the room.
"I intend to make the Order shed blood for every inch they take. If
that is all I can do, then I will do it until I breathe my last breath."
The dead-still air was sweltering and reeked of stagnant sewage.
Richard wiped sweat from his brow. At least as long as his sturdy wagon was
rolling through the streets he could enjoy a little breeze.
Distracted out of his concern over knowing Kahlan and Cara had to have
long since left the safety of their mountain home, he noticed an unusual
amount of activity for the middle of the night. Shadowy figures hurried down
the dark streets to dart into dim buildings. Slashes of light briefly fell
to the street until doors could be pulled shut. The moon was out, and in the
darker alleys he thought he saw people watching him, waiting until he passed
before they went on their way. Over the rumble of his wagon's wheels he
couldn't hear anything they might be saying.
As he turned onto the road that would take him out to the charcoal
maker, he had to pull his team up short as men with long pole weapons
stepped out and blocked his way. A guard seized the horses' bits. Other of
the city guard swept out of the side street to point lances up at him.
"What are you doing out here?" one of the voices asked from the side of
the wagon.
Richard calmly yanked up on the lever to set the brake.
"I have a special pass to move goods at night. It's for the emperor's
palace."
The words "emperor's palace" were usually enough to have him on his
way.
The guard waggled his fingers. "If you have a special pass, then let's
see it."
This night, the guards wanted more. Richard pulled a folded piece of
paper from a protective leather sleeve inside his shirt and held it down to
the guard. Metal squeaked as the guard slid open a tiny door on his shielded
lantern, letting a narrow slit of light fall across the paper. Several heads
bent in to read the words and inspect the official seals. They were all
genuine. They should be-they had cost Richard a small fortune.
"Here you go." The guard handed the paper back to Richard. "Have you
seen anything unusual as you have gone through the city?"
"Unusual? What do you mean?"
The guard grunted. "If you had seen anything, you wouldn't have to
ask." He waved his hand. "On your way."
Richard made no effort to leave. "Should I be worried?" He made a show
of looking around. "Are there highwaymen about? Am I in danger? Is it safe
for a citizen to be out? I'll take the wagon back if it's dangerous."
The man chuckled derisively. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. It's
just some foolish people making trouble because they've nothing better to
do."
"That's all it is? Are you sure?"
"You have work to do for the palace. Get to it."
"Yes, sir." Richard clicked his tongue and flicked the reins. The heavy
wagon lurched ahead.
He didn't know what was going on, but suspected the guards were out to
catch some more insurgents for questioning. They probably wanted to get back
to their post, so anyone they got their hands on was likely to end up being
an insurgent. A man from Ishaq's place had been arrested several days
before. He had been drunk on homemade liquor and left a meeting early. He
never made it home. A few days later, Ishaq had received word that the man
had confessed to crimes against the Order. The man's wife and daughter were
arrested. The wife was released after receiving a specified number of lashes
for confessing to speaking ill of the Order and having hateful thoughts
about her neighbors. The daughter had not yet been released. No one even
knew where she was being held.
Eventually he reached the edge of the city where it gave way to open
fields. Richard took a deep breath of the agreeable aroma of freshly turned
earth. Lights from occasional farms glimmered like lonely stars. In the
moonlight Richard could finally see the rough skyline of forest. As he
rolled into the charcoal maker's place, the charcoal maker, a nervous man
named Faval, scurried up to the side of the wagon.
"Richard Cypher! There you are. I was worried about you coming."
"Why?"
The man let out a high-pitched titter. Faval frequently giggled at
things that weren't funny. Richard understood that it was just his way. He
was a jumpy fellow and his laugh was not meant as disrespect, but was rather
something he couldn't help. A lot of people, though, avoided Faval because
of his strange laugh, fearing he might be crazy-a punishment, they believed,
imposed on sinners by the Creator. Others got angry at him because they
thought he was laughing at them. That only made Faval more nervous, which
made him laugh all the more. Faval was missing his front teeth and his nose
was crooked from being broken a number of times. Richard knew the man
couldn't really help it, and so never gave him trouble about it. Faval had
taken a liking to him.
"I don't know, I just thought you might not come."
Faval's big eyes blinked in the moonlight. Richard's face wrinkled in a
puzzlement.
"Faval, I said I was coming. Why would you think I might not?"
Faval's fingers worried at his earlobe. "No reason."
Richard climbed down. "The city guards stopped me-"
"No!" Faval's titter rippled out through the darkness. "What did they
want? Did they ask you anything?"
"They wanted to know if I'd seen anything unusual."
"But you didn't." He giggled. "They let you go. You saw nothing."
"Well," Richard drawled, "I did see that fellow with the two heads."
Crickets chirped in the silence. Faval blinked in astonishment. In the
moonlight, Richard could see his mouth hanging open.
"You saw a man with two heads?"
This time, it was Richard who laughed. "No, Faval, I didn't. It was
just a joke."
"It was? But it wasn't funny."
Richard sighed. "I suppose not. Have you got the load of charcoal
ready? I've got a long night ahead of me. Victor needs a load of steel, and
Priska needs charcoal or he said he would have to close down. He said you
didn't send your last order."
Faval giggled. "I couldn't! I wanted to, Richard Cypher. I need the
money. I owe the loggers for the trees I made into this charcoal. They told
me they were going to quit bringing me wood if I didn't pay them."
Faval lived at the edge of a forest, so his source of wood was handy,
but he wasn't allowed to cut the wood. All resources belonged to the Order.
Trees were cut when the loggers, who had permits, needed work, not when
someone needed wood. Most of the wood lay on the ground and rotted. Anyone
caught picking up wood was liable to be arrested for stealing from the
Order.
Faval held his hands up as if to implore Richard's understanding. "I
tried to get the charcoal transported to Priska, but the committee denied me
permission to transport it. They said I don't need the money. Don't need the
money! Can you imagine?" He laughed painfully. "They told me that I was a
rich man, because I had a business, and that I had to wait while they saw to
the needs of the common people, first. I am only trying to live."
"I know, Faval. I told Priska that it wasn't your fault. He
understands-he has troubles like that of his own. He's just desperate
because he needs the charcoal. You know Priska; he gets hot at those who
have nothing to do with the problem. I told him I would bring a load of
charcoal tonight, and another two tomorrow night. Can I count on you for two
more loads tomorrow?"
Richard held out the silver coins for the load of charcoal.
Faval clapped his hands together prayerfully. "Oh, thank you, Richard
Cypher. You are a savior. Those loggers are a nasty lot. Yes, yes, and two
tomorrow. I have them cooling now. You are as good as a ,son to me, Richard
Cypher." He motioned off into the darkness as he tittered. "They are there,
cooking. You will have them."
Richard could see the dozens and dozens of mounds, like little
haystacks, that were the earthen ovens. Small pieces of split wood were
tightly stacked around in a circle, with tinder stuffed in the center,
building them up into a rounded pile which was then covered over with fern
leaves and broom and then plastered over with firm earth. Fire was put in at
the bottom, then that opening was closed over. Moisture and smoke escaped
from small vents in the top for six to eight days. When the smoke ceased,
the vents were sealed to kill the fire. After it cooled, the earthen ovens
could be opened and the charcoal removed. It was a labor-intensive
occupation, but rather simple work.
"Let me help you load your wagon," Faval said.
Richard caught the man's shirt at his shoulder as he started away.
"Faval, what's going on?"
Faval put a finger to his lower lip as he laughed. It almost sounded
like it was painful for him to laugh. He hesitated, but finally whispered
his answer.
"The revolt. It has started."
Richard had suspected as much. "What do you know about it, Faval?"
"Nothing! I know nothing!"
"Faval, it's me, Richard. I'm not going to turn you in."
Faval laughed. This time it sounded more like relief. "Of course not.
Of course not. Forgive me, Richard Cypher. I get so nervous, I wasn't
thinking."
"So, what about this revolt?"
Faval turned up his hands in a helpless gesture. "The Order, they
strangle people. We can't live. If not for you, Richard Cypher, I would be .
. . well, I don't want to think about it. But others, they are not so
fortunate. They starve. The Order takes
the food they grow. People have loved ones who have been arrested. They
confess to things they did not do.
"Did you know that, Richard Cypher? That they confess to things they
did not do? I never believed it myself I thought that if they confessed,
then they were guilty. Why confess if you are innocent?" He giggled. "Why? I
thought they were terrible people wanting to hurt the Order. I thought it
served them right, and I was glad they were arrested and punished."
"So what changed your mind?"
"My brother." Faval's chuckles suddenly were sobs. "He helped me make
charcoal. We made it together. We supported our families making charcoal. We
worked from sunup until sundown. We slept in the same house, there. That one
there. One room. We were together all the time.
"Last year, at a meeting where we all had to stand up and tell how the
Order made our lives better, as we were leaving, they arrested him. Someone
gave his name as maybe an insurgent. I was not worried. My brother was not
guilty of anything. He makes charcoal."
Richard waited in the darkness, sweat trickling down his neck, as Faval
stared off into the dark visions.
"For a week, I went every day to the barracks to tell them that he
would not do anything against the Order. We loved the Order. The Order
wishes all people to be fed and cared for.
"The guards said my brother finally confessed. High crimes, they called
itplotting to overthrow the Order. They said he confessed it to them.
"The next day, I was going to go to see more people, the officials at
the barracks-I was so angry-to tell them that they were cruel animals. My
wife, she cried and begged me not to go back to the barracks yet again, for
fear they would arrest me, too. For her sake, and the children, I did not
go. It would do no good, anyway. They had my brother's confession. No one
who confesses is innocent. Everyone knows that.
"They put my brother to death. His wife and children live with us,
still. We can hardly. . ." Faval giggled as he bit down on his knuckle.
Richard put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand, Faval. There
was nothing you could have done."
Faval wiped at his eyes. "Now I am guilty of thinking hateful thoughts.
That is
a crime, you know. I am guilty of it. I think about life without the
Order. I dream
of having a cart of my own just a cart-and my sons and nephew could
deliver
the charcoal we make. Wouldn't that be wonderful, Richard Cypher? I
could
buy. . ." His voice trailed off.
He looked up in confusion. "But the Order says such thoughts are a
crime because I am putting my wants before the needs of others. Why are
their needs more important than mine? Why?
"I went to ask for a permit to buy a cart. They say I cannot have one
because it would put the cart drivers out of work. They said I was greedy
for wanting to put people out of work. They called me selfish for having
such thoughts."
"That's wrong," Richard said in quiet assurance. "Your thoughts are not
a crime, nor are they evil. It's your life, Faval-you should be able to live
it as you see fit. You should be able to buy your cart and work hard and
make the best of your life for you and your family."
Faval chortled. "You sound like a revolutionary, Richard Cypher."
Richard sighed, thinking about how useless the whole thing was. "No,
Faval."
Faval appraised him in the moonlight for a time. "It has already
started, Richard Cypher. The revolt. It has begun."
"I have charcoal to deliver." Richard went around the back of the wagon
and hoisted a basket up onto the wagon bed.
Faval helped with the next basket. "You should join them, Richard
Cypher. You are a smart man. They could use your help."
"Why?" Richard wondered if he dared get his hopes up. "What do they
have planned? What are they going to do with this revolt?"
Faval giggled. "Why, they are marching in the streets, tomorrow. They
are going to demand changes."
"What changes?"
"Well, I think they want to be able to work. They are going to demand
they be allowed to do what they want." He giggled. "Maybe, I can get a cart?
Do you think, Richard Cypher? Do you think that when they have this revolt I
can get a cart and deliver my charcoal? I could make more charcoal, then."
"But what do they plan to do? How are they going to change anything if
the Order says no?-Which they will."
"Do? Why, I think they will be very angry if the Order tells them no.
They may not go back to their jobs. Some say they will break into the stores
and take the bread."
Richard's hopes faded back into the shadows.
The man clutched at Richard's sleeve. "What should I do, Richard
Cypher? Should I join the revolt? Tell me."
"Faval, you should not ask anyone else what you should do about
something like this. How can you endanger your life, the lives of your
family, on what a man with a wagon says?"
"But you are a smart man, Richard Cypher. I am not so smart as you."
Richard tapped his finger against the man's forehead. "Faval, in here,
in your head, you are smart enough to know what you must do. You have
already told me why the Order can never help people have better lives by
telling them how they must live. You figured that out all on your own. You,
Faval the charcoal maker, are smarter than the Order."
Faval beamed. "You think so, Richard Cypher? No one ever told me before
that I was smart."
"You're smart enough to decide for yourself how much it means to you
and what you want to do about it."
"I fear for my wife, and my brother's wife, and all our children. I
don't want the Order, but I'm afraid for them if I am arrested. How would
they live?"
Richard heaved another basket into the wagon. "Faval, listen to me.
Revolt is the kind of thing you must be sure of. It's dangerous business. If
you are going to join a revolt, you have to be sure enough of what you want
to do to be ready to lay down your life for your freedom."
"Really? You think so, Richard Cypher?"
The spark of hope was gone.
"Faval, you stay here and make charcoal. Priska needs charcoal. The
Order will arrest those people, and then that will be the end of it. You're
a good man. I don't want to see you arrested."
Faval grinned. "All right, Richard Cypher. If you say so, I will stay
here and make charcoal."
"Good. I'll be back tomorrow night. But Faval, if there is still
trouble, I may not make it tomorrow night. If there is still marching going
on and the streets and roads are blocked, I may not be able to make it out
here."
"I understand. You will be back as soon as you can. I trust you,
Richard Cypher. You never let me down."
Richard smiled. "Look, if they are having a revolt tomorrow, and I
can't make it out here right away, here's the money for the next load." He
handed the man another silver mark. "I don't want those loggers to stop
getting wood for you. The foundries need charcoal."
Faval giggled in genuine delight. He kissed the silver mark and slipped
it down his boot. "The charcoal will be ready. Now, let me help you load
your wagon."
Faval was only one of the charcoal makers with whom Richard dealt. He
had a whole string of them he kept going so the foundries could have
charcoal. They were all humble people just trying to get along in life. They
did the best they could under the yoke of the Order.
Richard made a little profit selling the charcoal to the foundries, but
he made more selling iron and steel he bought from them. Charcoal was just a
small sideline to help fill his nights, as long as he was out with his
wagon. What he made from the charcoal covered the bribes, mostly. He made a
good bit more hauling the odd load of ore, clay, lead, quicksilver,
antimony, salt, molding powders, and a variety of other things the foundries
needed but couldn't get permits for or get transported when they needed
them. There was as much of that business as Richard could want. It paid for
the care of his team with some profit left over. The iron and steel was pure
profit.
By the time he made it to the foundry with the load of charcoal,
Priska, the hulking foundry master, was pacing. His powerful hands grabbed
the side of the wagon. He peered in.
"About time."
"I had to wait for an hour after I came from Faval's while the city
guards inspected the load."
Priska waved his beefy arms. "Those bastards!"
"It's all right-calm down. They didn't take any. I have it all."
The man sighed. "I tell you, Richard, it's a wonder I've kept my
furnaces going."
Richard ventured a dangerous question. "You're not involved with the .
. . trouble, in the city, are you?"
In the light coming from his office window-really no more than a
hut-Priska appraised Richard for a time. "Richard, change is coming. Change
for the better."
"What change?"
"A revolt has begun."
Richard felt the spark of hope grow anew, but stronger this time-not so
much for himself, his chains held him too tenaciously, but for the people
who yearned to be free. Faval was a kind man, a hardworking man, but he was
not the clever man, the resourceful man, that Priska was. Priska was a man
who knew more than it would seem possible for him to know. Priska had given
Richard the names of all the officials who could be bribed for papers, and
advised him how much to offer.
"A revolt?" Richard asked "A revolt for what?"
"For us-for the people who want to be able to live our lives as we
wish. The new beginning is starting. Tonight. In fact, it has already
begun." He turned to his
building and pulled open the doors. "When you get to Victor's, you must
wait for him, Richard. He must speak with you."
"About what?"
Priska waved dismissively. "Come, give me my charcoal and then load
your steel. Victor will bite my head off if I keep you."
Richard pulled the first basket out of the wagon and carried it to the
side, where Priska added another.
"What have these people who starting the revolt done? What are their
plans?"
Priska leaned close as Richard dragged another basket to the rear of
the wagon. "They have captured a number of officials of the Order. High
officials."
"Have they killed them, yet?"
"Killed them! Are you crazy? They aren't going to harm them. They will
be held until they agree to loosen the rules, satisfy the demands of the
people."
Richard gaped at the man. "Loosen the rules? What are they demanding?"
"Things must change. People want to be allowed more say in their
businesses, their lives, their work." He lifted a basket of charcoal. "Less
meetings. They are demanding to have their needs taken more into
consideration."
This time, the spark of Richard's hopes didn't dim, rather, it plunged
into icy waters.
He didn't much pay attention to Priska as they unloaded the wagon and
then loaded the steel. He didn't really want to listen to the plans for the
revolt. He couldn't help getting the gist of it, anyway.
The revolutionaries had it all figured out. They wanted public trials
for those people the Order arrested. They wanted to be allowed to see
prisoners. They wanted to have the Order give them a list of what had
happened to a number of people who had been arrested, but never heard from.
There were other details and demands but Richard's mind wandered to other
things.
As Richard was climbing up into his wagon to leave, Priska seized his
arm in a iron grip. "The time has come, Richard, for men who care to join
the revolt."
The two of them shared a long look. "Victor is waiting."
Priska released Richard's arm and grinned. "So he is. I'll see you
later, Richard. Perhaps the next trip you make here will be after the Order
meets the demands, and you will be able to come in the day, without papers."
"That would be grand, Priska."
--]----
By the time he arrived at Victor's, Richard had a headache. He felt
sick over what he'd heard, and what he feared yet to hear.
Victor was there, waiting for him. It was a little early, yet, for the
man to be there; usually, he didn't arrive until closer to dawn. The
blacksmith threw open the doors to his outer stockroom. He set a lantern on
a shelf so Richard could see to back his wagon close.
Victor was wearing a wolfish grin as Richard climbed down.
"Come, Richard, unload your wagon, then we will have some lardo, and
talk."
Richard went methodically about his task, not really wanting to talk.
He had a good idea what Victor wanted to talk about. Victor, as was his way,
left Richard to unload. He was the man buying the steel, and enjoyed the
service of having it
delivered where he wanted it. It was a service he could rarely get from
a transport company, despite the higher price.
Richard didn't mind being left alone. Summer this far south in the Old
World was miserable. The humidity was oppressive, with the nights rarely
better than the days.
As he worked, he thought about the sparkling bright days spent with
Kahlan beside the brook at their mountain home. It seemed a lifetime ago.
His hopes of ever seeing her again were difficult to keep alive, but his
worry for her, now that summer was here, never ceased. Sometimes, it hurt so
much to think about her, to miss her, to worry, that he had to put her from
his mind. At other times, thoughts of her were all that kept him going.
By the time he had finished, the sky was tuning lighter. He found
Victor in the far room, the doors open wide so that dawn's light lit
Victor's marble monolith. The blacksmith was gazing at the beauty in his
stone, at the statue still inside that only he saw.
It was a long moment before he noticed Richard standing not far away.
"Richard, come have lardo with me."
They sat on the threshold looking out over the site of the Retreat,
watching the miles of stone walls tun pink in the hazy dawn. Even from the
distance, Richard could see along the top of one wall the vile figures
representing the evil of mankind.
Victor handed Richard a pure white slice of lardo. "Richard, the revolt
I told you about has started. But you probably already know that."
"No it hasn't," Richard said.
Victor stared, dumbfounded. "But it has."
"A lot of trouble has started. It is not the revolt you and I spoke
of."
"It will be. You will see. Many men will be marching today." Victor
gestured expansively. "Richard, we want you to lead us."
Richard had been expecting the question. "No."
"I know, I know, you think the men don't know you, and they won't
follow you, but you are wrong, Richard. Many do know you. More than you
think. I have told many of them about you. Priska and others have spoken of
you. You can do it, Richard."
Richard stared out at the walls, at the carvings of cowering men.
"No."
Victor was taken aback, this time. "But why not?"
"Because a lot of men are going to die."
Victor chuckled. "No, Richard, no. You misunderstand. This will not be
that kind of revolt. This will be a revolt of men of goodwill. This is a
revolt for the betterment of mankind. That is what the Order always
preaches. We are the people. They say they are for the people, and now, when
we put the demands of the people to them, they will have to listen and give
in."
Richard shook his head sadly to himself.
"You want me to lead you?"
"Yes."
"Then I want you to do something for me, Victor."
"Of course, Richard. Name it."
"You stay far away from anything to do with this uprising. Those are my
orders to you as your leader. You stay here and work today. You stay out of
it."
Victor looked as if he thought Richard might be making a joke. After a
moment, he saw that Richard was not joking.
"But why? Don't you want things to get better? Do you wish to live like
this all your life? Don't you want things to improve?"
"Are you willing to kill those men of the Order that have been
captured?"
"Kill them? Richard, why do you want to talk about killing? This is
about life. About things being better."
"Victor, listen to me. These men you go up against are not going to
play by your rules."
"But they will want-"
"You stay here and work, or you will die along with a lot of other men.
The Order will crush this uprising within a day or two, and then they will
go after everyone they even suspect had a hand in it. A lot of people are
going to die."
"But if you were-to lead us, you could present our demands. That is why
we want you to lead us-to prevent that kind of trouble. You know how to
convince people. You know how to get things done-just look at how you help
all the people in Altur'Rang: Faval, Priska, me, and all the others. We need
you, Richard. We need you to give people a reason to follow the revolt."
"If they don't know what they stand for and what they want, then no one
can give them a reason. They will only.succeed when they burn for freedom,
and are not only willing to kill for it, but to die for it." Richard stood
and brushed the dirt from his pants. "Stay out of it, Victor, or you will
die with them."
Victor followed him to his wagon. In the distance, men were arriving to
work on the emperor's palace. The blacksmith picked at the wood on the
wagon's side, apparently wanting to say more.
"Richard, I know how you feel. I really do. I, too, think these men are
not burning with the kind of hunger for freedom that I have, but they are
not from Cavatura, as I am, so perhaps they do not know what true freedom
is, but for now, this is all we can do. Won't you give it a try, Richard?
"Richard Rahl, of the D'Haran Empire to the north, understands our
passion for freedom, and would try."
Richard climbed up into his wagon seat. He wondered where people heard
such things, and marveled at how the spark of such ideas could travel so
far. After he took up the reins and whip, Richard shared a long look with
the sober blacksmith, a man intoxicated with the whiff of freedom in the
air.
"Victor, would you try to hammer cold steel into a tool?"
"Of course not. The steel must be white-hot before it can become
something."
"So must men, Victor. These men are cold steel. Spare your hammer. I'm
sure this Richard Rahl would tell you the same thing."
The uprising lasted a day. Richard stayed home. He asked Nicci to stay
home, too. He told her that he'd heard rumors of possible trouble and said
he didn't want her to get hurt.
The purge of the insurrectionists by the Order, on the other hand,
lasted a week. Men who had participated in the marching had been slaughtered
in the streets, or captured by the city guard. Those who were captured were
questioned until they eventually confessed the names of others. People
questioned by the Order always confessed.
The ripples of arrest, confession, and further arrest spread through
the city and went on for days. Hundreds of men were buried in the sky.
Eventually, the fires of unrest were snuffed out. The ash of regret covered
every tongue as people wanted to forget the whole thing. The marches were
rarely even mentioned, as if it had never happened.
Richard finally went back to work at the transport company, rather than
risk having his wagon out at night. Jori had nothing to say as they rolled
through the city, past the poles holding up rotting corpses buried in the
sky.
Jori and Richard made trips out to the mines to pick up ore for the
foundries. They made one trip to a sandstone quarry a little ways to the
east of the city. That took the whole day there and back. The next day they
delivered the stone to the west side of Retreat, where it was needed for a
buttress. There were a number of poles, maybe fifty or sixty, on the other
side of the walls, over near the carving area. Apparently, some of the
workers had been purged, too.
On the way out, they went up the road past the blacksmith's shop.
Richard
jumped down off the wagon and told Jori that he would go up the hill
and join him
after the wagon made its way around the twists in the road. He said he
had to report
to the blacksmith about their next delivery. -
Inside the dark workshop, Victor was hammering a long piece of steel,
bending the red-hot metal over the horn of an anvil. He looked up and, when
he saw it was Richard, thrust the hot metal in the liquid beside this anvil,
where it bubbled and hissed.
"Richard! I'm glad to see you."
Richard noticed several of Victor's men were missing. "Sick?"
For a Mord-Sith, Rikka's little nod was about as close to a salute as
it came. After she was gone, Kahlan swatted at the plague of mosquitoes and
returned her attention to the map.
"So," she said, removing the two Agiel from the map, "who has any
suggestions?"
"I'd say we have to keep at their edges," Zedd offered. "Obviously, we
can't be
throwing ourselves in front of them. We can do nothing but to continue
to fight them as we have been doing."
"I agree," Verna said.
General Meiffert rubbed his chin as he stared down at the map spread
out before them on the table. "What we have to worry about is his size."
"Well, of course we have to worry about the size of the Order,;' Kahlan
said. "They have enough men to split up and still be too huge to handle.
That's what I'm talking about-what we're going to do when he splits. If I
were him, that's what I'd do. He knows how it would complicate our lives."
There was an urgent knock. Warren, over by the window, not bothering to
look at the map with the rest of them, opened the door.
Captain Zimmer stepped in, giving a quick salute of his fist to his
heart. Panting as he entered, he brought with him a swirling rush of warm
air that smelled like a horse. Ignoring the rest of them, Warren returned to
his brooding at the window.
"He's splitting his force," Captain Zimmer announced, as if their fear
had given birth to the reality.
Most in the room sighed unhappily with the news.
"Any direction, yet?" Kahlan asked.
Captain Zimmer nodded. "From the looks of it, he's sending maybe a
third, possibly a little more, up the Callisidrin Valley toward Galea. The
main force is heading to the northeast, probably to enter and go north up
the Kern Valley."
They all knew the eventual goal.
Zedd made a fist. "There's no joy in being right, but that's just what
Kahlan and I talked about. That was our guess."
General Meiffert was still rubbing his chin as he studied the map.
"It's an obvious move, but with the size of his force the obvious is not a
liability."
No one wanted to broach the issue, so Kahlan settled the matter. "Galea
is on its own. We're not sending any troops to help them."
Captain Zimmer finally waggled a finger at the map. "We need to put our
forces in front of their main force to slow them down. If we stay on their
heels instead, we will only be cleaning up the mess they make."
"I'd have to agree." The general shifted his weight to his other foot.
"We have no choice but to try to slow them. We'll have to keep giving
ground, but at least we can slow them. Otherwise, they are going to move up
through the center of the Midlands with the speed and power of a spring
flood."
Zedd was watching the young wizard off by himself at the window.
"Warren, what do you think?"
Warren looked up at the sound of his name, as if he hadn't been paying
attention. Something about him didn't look well. He took a breath and
straightened, his face brightening, making Kahlan think she had been
mistaken. Hands clasped behind his back, Warren strode to the table.
He peered at the map from over Verna's shoulder. "Forget Galea-it's a
lost cause. We cannot help them. They will suffer the sentence imposed upon
them by the Mother Confessor-not because she spoke the words, but because
her words were simple truth. Any troops we sent to help would be forfeit."
Zedd cast a sidelong glance at his fellow wizard. "What else?"
Warren finally moved closer to the table, wedging himself between Verna
and the general. With authority, he firmly planted his finger on the map,
far to the northalmost three-quarters of the way to Aydindril from where
they were camped.
"You have to go there."
General Meiffert frowned. "Up there? Why?"
"Because," Warren said, "you can't stop Jagang's army-his main force.
You can only hope to slow them as they move north, up into the Kern Valley.
This is where you must make a stand, if you hope to delay them next winter.
Once they move through you, they will be upon Aydindril."
"Move through us?" General Meiffert asked in an surly manner.
Warren looked up at him. "Well, do you suppose you are going to be able
to stop them? It wouldn't surprise me if by then they have three and a half
to four million men."
The general let out an ill-tempered breath. "Then why do you think we
should be at that spot-right in their way?"
"You can't stop them, but if you harry them sufficiently as they move
north, you can keep them from reaching Aydindril this year. At this spot,
they will be running out of time before the weather closes in. With a bit of
stiff resistance, you can grind them to a halt for the winter, buying
Aydindril one more season of freedom."
Warren looked up into Kahlan's eyes. "The following summer, a year from
now, Aydindril will fall. Prepare them for it in whatever way you are able,
but make no mistake: the city will fall to the Order."
Kahlan's blood ran cold. To hear him say the words aloud staggered her.
She wanted to slap him.
To contemplate the Imperial Order taking their attack into the heart of
the Midlands was horrifying. To accept, as foreordained, the Imperial Order
seizing the heart of the New World was unthinkable. Kahlan's mental image of
Jagang and his bloodthirsty thugs strolling the halls of the Confessors'
Palace sickened her.
Warren leaned around the general to look at Zedd. "The Wizard's Keep
must be protected-you know that better than 1. It would be the end of all
hope if their gifted were to gain the Keep and the dangerous things of magic
stored there. I think the time has come to keep that above all else in our
thinking. Holding the Keep is vital."
Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. "I could hold the Keep by
myself, if I had to."
Warren looked away from Zedd's hazel eyes. "You may have to," he said
in a quiet voice. "When we get to this place"-he tapped the map again-"then
you can do no more with the army, Zedd, and you must go to safeguard the
Wizard's Keep and the things of magic kept there."
Kahlan could feel the blood heating her face. "You're talking about
this as if it's all settled-as if it has been decided by fate and there is
nothing we can do about it. We can't win if we hold such a defeatist
attitude."
Warren smiled, his shy manner suddenly surfacing. "I'm sorry, Mother
Confessor. I didn't mean to give you that impression. I am only offering my
analysis of the facts of the situation. We aren't going to be able to stop
them-there's no use deluding ourselves about that. They grow larger by the
day. We must also take into account that there are going to be lands, such
as Anderith and Galea, which fear the Order and will join them rather than
suffer the brutal fate of those who refuse to surrender.
"I lived in the Old World as it fell, bit by bit, to the Imperial
Order. I've studied Jagang's methods. I know the man's patience. He
methodically conquered the entire Old World when such a feat seemed
inconceivable. He spent years building roads
just to be able to accomplish his plans. He never wavers from his goal.
There are times when you can anger or humiliate him into a rash action, but
he quickly comes to his senses.
"He quickly comes to his senses because he has a cause that is
paramount to him.
"You must understand something important about Jagang. It's the most
important thing I can tell you about the man: he believes with all his heart
that what he is doing is right. He revels in the glory of conquest and
victory, to be sure, but his deepest pleasure is being the one who has
brought what he sees as righteousness to those he views as heathens. He
believes that mankind can only advance, ethically, if they are all brought
under the moral authority of the Order."
"That's just nonsense," Kahlan said.
"You may think so, but he truly believes he is serving the cause of the
greater good for mankind. He believes piously in this. It is a sacred moral
truth to him and his ilk."
"He believes that murder, rape, and enslavement are just?" General
Meiffert asked. "He would have to be out of his mind."
"He was raised at the feet of priests of the Fellowship of Order."
Warren lifted a finger to make sure they all noted his point. "He believes
that all those things and more are justified. He believes that only the next
world matters, because then we will be in the eternal Light of the Creator.
The Order believes that you earn that reward in the next world by
sacrificing for your fellow man in this world. All those who refuse to see
this-that would be us-must either be brought to follow the Order's ways, or
die."
"So," General Meiffert said, "it's his sacred duty to crush us. It's
not plunder he seeks, primarily, but his bizarre version of the salvation of
mankind."
"Exactly."
"All right," Kahlan said with a sigh. "So, what do you think this holy
man of justice will do?"
"He basically has two choices, I believe. If he is to conquer the New
World and bring all of mankind under the authority of the Order, he must
take two important places, or he has not really succeeded: Aydindril,
because it is the seat of power in the Midlands, and the People's Palace in
D'Hara, because it reigns over the D'Haran people. If those two fall,
everything else will crumble. He could have gone for either. Emperor Jagang
has now made his choice of which falls first.
"The Imperial Order is going for Aydindril in order to split the
Midlands. Why else would they go north? What better way to defeat an enemy
than to cleave them in two? After they have Aydindril, they will turn their
swords to an isolated D'Hara. What better way to demoralize an enemy than to
first go for their heart?
"I am not saying that it is preordained, but merely telling you the way
the Order goes about its grisly work. This is the same thing Richard has
already figured out. Given that we can't realistically expect to stop them,
I think it only wise to face the reality of what is, don't you?"
Kahlan's gaze sank to the map. "I believe that in the darkest hours we
must believe in ourselves. I do not intend to surrender the D'Haran Empire
to the Imperial Order. We need to wage the best war we can until we can turn
it around."
"The Mother Confessor is right," Zedd insisted with quiet authority.
"The last great war I fought, in my youth, seemed just as hopeless for a
time. We prevailed, and drove the invaders back to the place from where they
had come."
None of the D'Haran officers said anything. It was D'Hara that was that
invader. "But things are different, now. That was a war pressed by an evil
leader." Zedd met the gaze of General Meiffert, Captain Zimmer, and the
other D'Haran officers. "Every side in a war has good people, just as they
all have the bad. Richard, as the new Lord Rahl, has given those good people
a chance to flourish.
"We must prevail in this. As difficult as it may now be to believe,
there are good people in the Old World, too, who would not wish to be under
the boot heel of the Order, or to press a war for the Order's reasons.
Nonetheless, we must stop them."
"So," Kahlan said, gesturing at the map before Warren, "how do you
think Jagang will press the war?"
Warren tapped the map again, to the south of Aydindril. "Knowing Jagang
and the way he conquers his opponents, I think he will stick to his grand
plan. He has a goal and will doggedly continue to move toward it. There is
nothing we have shown him that he has not seen from other opponents for his
whole life. With that experience, I'm sure he finds this war unexceptional.
I don't mean to discount our efforts-all war has its surprises, and we've
given him some nasty ones. I would say, though, that it is going largely as
he expected.
"It will take them the summer to advance to this place I've shown you,
given his usual pace and the fact that you will be harrying them. Jagang, in
general, has always moved slowly, but with unstoppable force. He will simply
pour in enough men to crush the opposition. He feels that if he takes time
to get to his enemy, it only gives them more time to tremble in fear of him.
When he finally arrives, his enemies are often ready to crumble from the
agony of the wait.
"If you put your force there, where I showed you, you will be able to
protect Aydindril next winter, as Jagang will be content to bide his time.
He has learned what a hardship the winters are in the New World. He will not
needlessly press a winter campaign. But in the summer, when they move again,
like they do now, then Aydindril will fall-whether or not you stand against
the weight of their main force. When they move on Aydindril, we must hold
the Wizard's Keep. That is all we can do."
The room was silent. The fire was cold, now. Warren and Verna had
already packed their things and were ready to go, as was most of the rest of
the army. Warren and Verna were losing their home. Kahlan glanced to the
side, letting her gaze linger on the curtains she had long ago made for
them. Their wedding seemed but a dim memory.
Her own wedding seemed but a distant dream. Every time she woke,
Richard seemed almost a ghost to her. Mind-numbing, relentless, never-ending
war seemed the only reality. There were occasional fleeting moments when she
thought that she might have only dreamed him, that he couldn't possibly have
really existed, that their long-ago happy summer home in the mountains never
happened. Those moments of doubt terrified her more than Jagang's army.
"Warren," Kahlan asked in a soft voice, "what then? What do you think
will happen the following summer, after they have taken Aydindril?"
Warren shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Jagang will be content to digest
Aydindril for a while, to establish firm control over the Midlands. He
believes it his duty to his Creator to bring all of mankind under the Order.
Sooner or later, he will move on D'Hara."
Kahlan finally directed her attention to Captain Zimmer.
"Captain, get your men ready. While we're getting all our supplies and
such on
the way, you might as well go and remind Jagang that we have kept our
blades sharp."
The captain grinned and clapped his fist to his heart.
Kahlan swept her gaze across everyone in the room.
"I intend to make the Order shed blood for every inch they take. If
that is all I can do, then I will do it until I breathe my last breath."
The dead-still air was sweltering and reeked of stagnant sewage.
Richard wiped sweat from his brow. At least as long as his sturdy wagon was
rolling through the streets he could enjoy a little breeze.
Distracted out of his concern over knowing Kahlan and Cara had to have
long since left the safety of their mountain home, he noticed an unusual
amount of activity for the middle of the night. Shadowy figures hurried down
the dark streets to dart into dim buildings. Slashes of light briefly fell
to the street until doors could be pulled shut. The moon was out, and in the
darker alleys he thought he saw people watching him, waiting until he passed
before they went on their way. Over the rumble of his wagon's wheels he
couldn't hear anything they might be saying.
As he turned onto the road that would take him out to the charcoal
maker, he had to pull his team up short as men with long pole weapons
stepped out and blocked his way. A guard seized the horses' bits. Other of
the city guard swept out of the side street to point lances up at him.
"What are you doing out here?" one of the voices asked from the side of
the wagon.
Richard calmly yanked up on the lever to set the brake.
"I have a special pass to move goods at night. It's for the emperor's
palace."
The words "emperor's palace" were usually enough to have him on his
way.
The guard waggled his fingers. "If you have a special pass, then let's
see it."
This night, the guards wanted more. Richard pulled a folded piece of
paper from a protective leather sleeve inside his shirt and held it down to
the guard. Metal squeaked as the guard slid open a tiny door on his shielded
lantern, letting a narrow slit of light fall across the paper. Several heads
bent in to read the words and inspect the official seals. They were all
genuine. They should be-they had cost Richard a small fortune.
"Here you go." The guard handed the paper back to Richard. "Have you
seen anything unusual as you have gone through the city?"
"Unusual? What do you mean?"
The guard grunted. "If you had seen anything, you wouldn't have to
ask." He waved his hand. "On your way."
Richard made no effort to leave. "Should I be worried?" He made a show
of looking around. "Are there highwaymen about? Am I in danger? Is it safe
for a citizen to be out? I'll take the wagon back if it's dangerous."
The man chuckled derisively. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. It's
just some foolish people making trouble because they've nothing better to
do."
"That's all it is? Are you sure?"
"You have work to do for the palace. Get to it."
"Yes, sir." Richard clicked his tongue and flicked the reins. The heavy
wagon lurched ahead.
He didn't know what was going on, but suspected the guards were out to
catch some more insurgents for questioning. They probably wanted to get back
to their post, so anyone they got their hands on was likely to end up being
an insurgent. A man from Ishaq's place had been arrested several days
before. He had been drunk on homemade liquor and left a meeting early. He
never made it home. A few days later, Ishaq had received word that the man
had confessed to crimes against the Order. The man's wife and daughter were
arrested. The wife was released after receiving a specified number of lashes
for confessing to speaking ill of the Order and having hateful thoughts
about her neighbors. The daughter had not yet been released. No one even
knew where she was being held.
Eventually he reached the edge of the city where it gave way to open
fields. Richard took a deep breath of the agreeable aroma of freshly turned
earth. Lights from occasional farms glimmered like lonely stars. In the
moonlight Richard could finally see the rough skyline of forest. As he
rolled into the charcoal maker's place, the charcoal maker, a nervous man
named Faval, scurried up to the side of the wagon.
"Richard Cypher! There you are. I was worried about you coming."
"Why?"
The man let out a high-pitched titter. Faval frequently giggled at
things that weren't funny. Richard understood that it was just his way. He
was a jumpy fellow and his laugh was not meant as disrespect, but was rather
something he couldn't help. A lot of people, though, avoided Faval because
of his strange laugh, fearing he might be crazy-a punishment, they believed,
imposed on sinners by the Creator. Others got angry at him because they
thought he was laughing at them. That only made Faval more nervous, which
made him laugh all the more. Faval was missing his front teeth and his nose
was crooked from being broken a number of times. Richard knew the man
couldn't really help it, and so never gave him trouble about it. Faval had
taken a liking to him.
"I don't know, I just thought you might not come."
Faval's big eyes blinked in the moonlight. Richard's face wrinkled in a
puzzlement.
"Faval, I said I was coming. Why would you think I might not?"
Faval's fingers worried at his earlobe. "No reason."
Richard climbed down. "The city guards stopped me-"
"No!" Faval's titter rippled out through the darkness. "What did they
want? Did they ask you anything?"
"They wanted to know if I'd seen anything unusual."
"But you didn't." He giggled. "They let you go. You saw nothing."
"Well," Richard drawled, "I did see that fellow with the two heads."
Crickets chirped in the silence. Faval blinked in astonishment. In the
moonlight, Richard could see his mouth hanging open.
"You saw a man with two heads?"
This time, it was Richard who laughed. "No, Faval, I didn't. It was
just a joke."
"It was? But it wasn't funny."
Richard sighed. "I suppose not. Have you got the load of charcoal
ready? I've got a long night ahead of me. Victor needs a load of steel, and
Priska needs charcoal or he said he would have to close down. He said you
didn't send your last order."
Faval giggled. "I couldn't! I wanted to, Richard Cypher. I need the
money. I owe the loggers for the trees I made into this charcoal. They told
me they were going to quit bringing me wood if I didn't pay them."
Faval lived at the edge of a forest, so his source of wood was handy,
but he wasn't allowed to cut the wood. All resources belonged to the Order.
Trees were cut when the loggers, who had permits, needed work, not when
someone needed wood. Most of the wood lay on the ground and rotted. Anyone
caught picking up wood was liable to be arrested for stealing from the
Order.
Faval held his hands up as if to implore Richard's understanding. "I
tried to get the charcoal transported to Priska, but the committee denied me
permission to transport it. They said I don't need the money. Don't need the
money! Can you imagine?" He laughed painfully. "They told me that I was a
rich man, because I had a business, and that I had to wait while they saw to
the needs of the common people, first. I am only trying to live."
"I know, Faval. I told Priska that it wasn't your fault. He
understands-he has troubles like that of his own. He's just desperate
because he needs the charcoal. You know Priska; he gets hot at those who
have nothing to do with the problem. I told him I would bring a load of
charcoal tonight, and another two tomorrow night. Can I count on you for two
more loads tomorrow?"
Richard held out the silver coins for the load of charcoal.
Faval clapped his hands together prayerfully. "Oh, thank you, Richard
Cypher. You are a savior. Those loggers are a nasty lot. Yes, yes, and two
tomorrow. I have them cooling now. You are as good as a ,son to me, Richard
Cypher." He motioned off into the darkness as he tittered. "They are there,
cooking. You will have them."
Richard could see the dozens and dozens of mounds, like little
haystacks, that were the earthen ovens. Small pieces of split wood were
tightly stacked around in a circle, with tinder stuffed in the center,
building them up into a rounded pile which was then covered over with fern
leaves and broom and then plastered over with firm earth. Fire was put in at
the bottom, then that opening was closed over. Moisture and smoke escaped
from small vents in the top for six to eight days. When the smoke ceased,
the vents were sealed to kill the fire. After it cooled, the earthen ovens
could be opened and the charcoal removed. It was a labor-intensive
occupation, but rather simple work.
"Let me help you load your wagon," Faval said.
Richard caught the man's shirt at his shoulder as he started away.
"Faval, what's going on?"
Faval put a finger to his lower lip as he laughed. It almost sounded
like it was painful for him to laugh. He hesitated, but finally whispered
his answer.
"The revolt. It has started."
Richard had suspected as much. "What do you know about it, Faval?"
"Nothing! I know nothing!"
"Faval, it's me, Richard. I'm not going to turn you in."
Faval laughed. This time it sounded more like relief. "Of course not.
Of course not. Forgive me, Richard Cypher. I get so nervous, I wasn't
thinking."
"So, what about this revolt?"
Faval turned up his hands in a helpless gesture. "The Order, they
strangle people. We can't live. If not for you, Richard Cypher, I would be .
. . well, I don't want to think about it. But others, they are not so
fortunate. They starve. The Order takes
the food they grow. People have loved ones who have been arrested. They
confess to things they did not do.
"Did you know that, Richard Cypher? That they confess to things they
did not do? I never believed it myself I thought that if they confessed,
then they were guilty. Why confess if you are innocent?" He giggled. "Why? I
thought they were terrible people wanting to hurt the Order. I thought it
served them right, and I was glad they were arrested and punished."
"So what changed your mind?"
"My brother." Faval's chuckles suddenly were sobs. "He helped me make
charcoal. We made it together. We supported our families making charcoal. We
worked from sunup until sundown. We slept in the same house, there. That one
there. One room. We were together all the time.
"Last year, at a meeting where we all had to stand up and tell how the
Order made our lives better, as we were leaving, they arrested him. Someone
gave his name as maybe an insurgent. I was not worried. My brother was not
guilty of anything. He makes charcoal."
Richard waited in the darkness, sweat trickling down his neck, as Faval
stared off into the dark visions.
"For a week, I went every day to the barracks to tell them that he
would not do anything against the Order. We loved the Order. The Order
wishes all people to be fed and cared for.
"The guards said my brother finally confessed. High crimes, they called
itplotting to overthrow the Order. They said he confessed it to them.
"The next day, I was going to go to see more people, the officials at
the barracks-I was so angry-to tell them that they were cruel animals. My
wife, she cried and begged me not to go back to the barracks yet again, for
fear they would arrest me, too. For her sake, and the children, I did not
go. It would do no good, anyway. They had my brother's confession. No one
who confesses is innocent. Everyone knows that.
"They put my brother to death. His wife and children live with us,
still. We can hardly. . ." Faval giggled as he bit down on his knuckle.
Richard put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand, Faval. There
was nothing you could have done."
Faval wiped at his eyes. "Now I am guilty of thinking hateful thoughts.
That is
a crime, you know. I am guilty of it. I think about life without the
Order. I dream
of having a cart of my own just a cart-and my sons and nephew could
deliver
the charcoal we make. Wouldn't that be wonderful, Richard Cypher? I
could
buy. . ." His voice trailed off.
He looked up in confusion. "But the Order says such thoughts are a
crime because I am putting my wants before the needs of others. Why are
their needs more important than mine? Why?
"I went to ask for a permit to buy a cart. They say I cannot have one
because it would put the cart drivers out of work. They said I was greedy
for wanting to put people out of work. They called me selfish for having
such thoughts."
"That's wrong," Richard said in quiet assurance. "Your thoughts are not
a crime, nor are they evil. It's your life, Faval-you should be able to live
it as you see fit. You should be able to buy your cart and work hard and
make the best of your life for you and your family."
Faval chortled. "You sound like a revolutionary, Richard Cypher."
Richard sighed, thinking about how useless the whole thing was. "No,
Faval."
Faval appraised him in the moonlight for a time. "It has already
started, Richard Cypher. The revolt. It has begun."
"I have charcoal to deliver." Richard went around the back of the wagon
and hoisted a basket up onto the wagon bed.
Faval helped with the next basket. "You should join them, Richard
Cypher. You are a smart man. They could use your help."
"Why?" Richard wondered if he dared get his hopes up. "What do they
have planned? What are they going to do with this revolt?"
Faval giggled. "Why, they are marching in the streets, tomorrow. They
are going to demand changes."
"What changes?"
"Well, I think they want to be able to work. They are going to demand
they be allowed to do what they want." He giggled. "Maybe, I can get a cart?
Do you think, Richard Cypher? Do you think that when they have this revolt I
can get a cart and deliver my charcoal? I could make more charcoal, then."
"But what do they plan to do? How are they going to change anything if
the Order says no?-Which they will."
"Do? Why, I think they will be very angry if the Order tells them no.
They may not go back to their jobs. Some say they will break into the stores
and take the bread."
Richard's hopes faded back into the shadows.
The man clutched at Richard's sleeve. "What should I do, Richard
Cypher? Should I join the revolt? Tell me."
"Faval, you should not ask anyone else what you should do about
something like this. How can you endanger your life, the lives of your
family, on what a man with a wagon says?"
"But you are a smart man, Richard Cypher. I am not so smart as you."
Richard tapped his finger against the man's forehead. "Faval, in here,
in your head, you are smart enough to know what you must do. You have
already told me why the Order can never help people have better lives by
telling them how they must live. You figured that out all on your own. You,
Faval the charcoal maker, are smarter than the Order."
Faval beamed. "You think so, Richard Cypher? No one ever told me before
that I was smart."
"You're smart enough to decide for yourself how much it means to you
and what you want to do about it."
"I fear for my wife, and my brother's wife, and all our children. I
don't want the Order, but I'm afraid for them if I am arrested. How would
they live?"
Richard heaved another basket into the wagon. "Faval, listen to me.
Revolt is the kind of thing you must be sure of. It's dangerous business. If
you are going to join a revolt, you have to be sure enough of what you want
to do to be ready to lay down your life for your freedom."
"Really? You think so, Richard Cypher?"
The spark of hope was gone.
"Faval, you stay here and make charcoal. Priska needs charcoal. The
Order will arrest those people, and then that will be the end of it. You're
a good man. I don't want to see you arrested."
Faval grinned. "All right, Richard Cypher. If you say so, I will stay
here and make charcoal."
"Good. I'll be back tomorrow night. But Faval, if there is still
trouble, I may not make it tomorrow night. If there is still marching going
on and the streets and roads are blocked, I may not be able to make it out
here."
"I understand. You will be back as soon as you can. I trust you,
Richard Cypher. You never let me down."
Richard smiled. "Look, if they are having a revolt tomorrow, and I
can't make it out here right away, here's the money for the next load." He
handed the man another silver mark. "I don't want those loggers to stop
getting wood for you. The foundries need charcoal."
Faval giggled in genuine delight. He kissed the silver mark and slipped
it down his boot. "The charcoal will be ready. Now, let me help you load
your wagon."
Faval was only one of the charcoal makers with whom Richard dealt. He
had a whole string of them he kept going so the foundries could have
charcoal. They were all humble people just trying to get along in life. They
did the best they could under the yoke of the Order.
Richard made a little profit selling the charcoal to the foundries, but
he made more selling iron and steel he bought from them. Charcoal was just a
small sideline to help fill his nights, as long as he was out with his
wagon. What he made from the charcoal covered the bribes, mostly. He made a
good bit more hauling the odd load of ore, clay, lead, quicksilver,
antimony, salt, molding powders, and a variety of other things the foundries
needed but couldn't get permits for or get transported when they needed
them. There was as much of that business as Richard could want. It paid for
the care of his team with some profit left over. The iron and steel was pure
profit.
By the time he made it to the foundry with the load of charcoal,
Priska, the hulking foundry master, was pacing. His powerful hands grabbed
the side of the wagon. He peered in.
"About time."
"I had to wait for an hour after I came from Faval's while the city
guards inspected the load."
Priska waved his beefy arms. "Those bastards!"
"It's all right-calm down. They didn't take any. I have it all."
The man sighed. "I tell you, Richard, it's a wonder I've kept my
furnaces going."
Richard ventured a dangerous question. "You're not involved with the .
. . trouble, in the city, are you?"
In the light coming from his office window-really no more than a
hut-Priska appraised Richard for a time. "Richard, change is coming. Change
for the better."
"What change?"
"A revolt has begun."
Richard felt the spark of hope grow anew, but stronger this time-not so
much for himself, his chains held him too tenaciously, but for the people
who yearned to be free. Faval was a kind man, a hardworking man, but he was
not the clever man, the resourceful man, that Priska was. Priska was a man
who knew more than it would seem possible for him to know. Priska had given
Richard the names of all the officials who could be bribed for papers, and
advised him how much to offer.
"A revolt?" Richard asked "A revolt for what?"
"For us-for the people who want to be able to live our lives as we
wish. The new beginning is starting. Tonight. In fact, it has already
begun." He turned to his
building and pulled open the doors. "When you get to Victor's, you must
wait for him, Richard. He must speak with you."
"About what?"
Priska waved dismissively. "Come, give me my charcoal and then load
your steel. Victor will bite my head off if I keep you."
Richard pulled the first basket out of the wagon and carried it to the
side, where Priska added another.
"What have these people who starting the revolt done? What are their
plans?"
Priska leaned close as Richard dragged another basket to the rear of
the wagon. "They have captured a number of officials of the Order. High
officials."
"Have they killed them, yet?"
"Killed them! Are you crazy? They aren't going to harm them. They will
be held until they agree to loosen the rules, satisfy the demands of the
people."
Richard gaped at the man. "Loosen the rules? What are they demanding?"
"Things must change. People want to be allowed more say in their
businesses, their lives, their work." He lifted a basket of charcoal. "Less
meetings. They are demanding to have their needs taken more into
consideration."
This time, the spark of Richard's hopes didn't dim, rather, it plunged
into icy waters.
He didn't much pay attention to Priska as they unloaded the wagon and
then loaded the steel. He didn't really want to listen to the plans for the
revolt. He couldn't help getting the gist of it, anyway.
The revolutionaries had it all figured out. They wanted public trials
for those people the Order arrested. They wanted to be allowed to see
prisoners. They wanted to have the Order give them a list of what had
happened to a number of people who had been arrested, but never heard from.
There were other details and demands but Richard's mind wandered to other
things.
As Richard was climbing up into his wagon to leave, Priska seized his
arm in a iron grip. "The time has come, Richard, for men who care to join
the revolt."
The two of them shared a long look. "Victor is waiting."
Priska released Richard's arm and grinned. "So he is. I'll see you
later, Richard. Perhaps the next trip you make here will be after the Order
meets the demands, and you will be able to come in the day, without papers."
"That would be grand, Priska."
--]----
By the time he arrived at Victor's, Richard had a headache. He felt
sick over what he'd heard, and what he feared yet to hear.
Victor was there, waiting for him. It was a little early, yet, for the
man to be there; usually, he didn't arrive until closer to dawn. The
blacksmith threw open the doors to his outer stockroom. He set a lantern on
a shelf so Richard could see to back his wagon close.
Victor was wearing a wolfish grin as Richard climbed down.
"Come, Richard, unload your wagon, then we will have some lardo, and
talk."
Richard went methodically about his task, not really wanting to talk.
He had a good idea what Victor wanted to talk about. Victor, as was his way,
left Richard to unload. He was the man buying the steel, and enjoyed the
service of having it
delivered where he wanted it. It was a service he could rarely get from
a transport company, despite the higher price.
Richard didn't mind being left alone. Summer this far south in the Old
World was miserable. The humidity was oppressive, with the nights rarely
better than the days.
As he worked, he thought about the sparkling bright days spent with
Kahlan beside the brook at their mountain home. It seemed a lifetime ago.
His hopes of ever seeing her again were difficult to keep alive, but his
worry for her, now that summer was here, never ceased. Sometimes, it hurt so
much to think about her, to miss her, to worry, that he had to put her from
his mind. At other times, thoughts of her were all that kept him going.
By the time he had finished, the sky was tuning lighter. He found
Victor in the far room, the doors open wide so that dawn's light lit
Victor's marble monolith. The blacksmith was gazing at the beauty in his
stone, at the statue still inside that only he saw.
It was a long moment before he noticed Richard standing not far away.
"Richard, come have lardo with me."
They sat on the threshold looking out over the site of the Retreat,
watching the miles of stone walls tun pink in the hazy dawn. Even from the
distance, Richard could see along the top of one wall the vile figures
representing the evil of mankind.
Victor handed Richard a pure white slice of lardo. "Richard, the revolt
I told you about has started. But you probably already know that."
"No it hasn't," Richard said.
Victor stared, dumbfounded. "But it has."
"A lot of trouble has started. It is not the revolt you and I spoke
of."
"It will be. You will see. Many men will be marching today." Victor
gestured expansively. "Richard, we want you to lead us."
Richard had been expecting the question. "No."
"I know, I know, you think the men don't know you, and they won't
follow you, but you are wrong, Richard. Many do know you. More than you
think. I have told many of them about you. Priska and others have spoken of
you. You can do it, Richard."
Richard stared out at the walls, at the carvings of cowering men.
"No."
Victor was taken aback, this time. "But why not?"
"Because a lot of men are going to die."
Victor chuckled. "No, Richard, no. You misunderstand. This will not be
that kind of revolt. This will be a revolt of men of goodwill. This is a
revolt for the betterment of mankind. That is what the Order always
preaches. We are the people. They say they are for the people, and now, when
we put the demands of the people to them, they will have to listen and give
in."
Richard shook his head sadly to himself.
"You want me to lead you?"
"Yes."
"Then I want you to do something for me, Victor."
"Of course, Richard. Name it."
"You stay far away from anything to do with this uprising. Those are my
orders to you as your leader. You stay here and work today. You stay out of
it."
Victor looked as if he thought Richard might be making a joke. After a
moment, he saw that Richard was not joking.
"But why? Don't you want things to get better? Do you wish to live like
this all your life? Don't you want things to improve?"
"Are you willing to kill those men of the Order that have been
captured?"
"Kill them? Richard, why do you want to talk about killing? This is
about life. About things being better."
"Victor, listen to me. These men you go up against are not going to
play by your rules."
"But they will want-"
"You stay here and work, or you will die along with a lot of other men.
The Order will crush this uprising within a day or two, and then they will
go after everyone they even suspect had a hand in it. A lot of people are
going to die."
"But if you were-to lead us, you could present our demands. That is why
we want you to lead us-to prevent that kind of trouble. You know how to
convince people. You know how to get things done-just look at how you help
all the people in Altur'Rang: Faval, Priska, me, and all the others. We need
you, Richard. We need you to give people a reason to follow the revolt."
"If they don't know what they stand for and what they want, then no one
can give them a reason. They will only.succeed when they burn for freedom,
and are not only willing to kill for it, but to die for it." Richard stood
and brushed the dirt from his pants. "Stay out of it, Victor, or you will
die with them."
Victor followed him to his wagon. In the distance, men were arriving to
work on the emperor's palace. The blacksmith picked at the wood on the
wagon's side, apparently wanting to say more.
"Richard, I know how you feel. I really do. I, too, think these men are
not burning with the kind of hunger for freedom that I have, but they are
not from Cavatura, as I am, so perhaps they do not know what true freedom
is, but for now, this is all we can do. Won't you give it a try, Richard?
"Richard Rahl, of the D'Haran Empire to the north, understands our
passion for freedom, and would try."
Richard climbed up into his wagon seat. He wondered where people heard
such things, and marveled at how the spark of such ideas could travel so
far. After he took up the reins and whip, Richard shared a long look with
the sober blacksmith, a man intoxicated with the whiff of freedom in the
air.
"Victor, would you try to hammer cold steel into a tool?"
"Of course not. The steel must be white-hot before it can become
something."
"So must men, Victor. These men are cold steel. Spare your hammer. I'm
sure this Richard Rahl would tell you the same thing."
The uprising lasted a day. Richard stayed home. He asked Nicci to stay
home, too. He told her that he'd heard rumors of possible trouble and said
he didn't want her to get hurt.
The purge of the insurrectionists by the Order, on the other hand,
lasted a week. Men who had participated in the marching had been slaughtered
in the streets, or captured by the city guard. Those who were captured were
questioned until they eventually confessed the names of others. People
questioned by the Order always confessed.
The ripples of arrest, confession, and further arrest spread through
the city and went on for days. Hundreds of men were buried in the sky.
Eventually, the fires of unrest were snuffed out. The ash of regret covered
every tongue as people wanted to forget the whole thing. The marches were
rarely even mentioned, as if it had never happened.
Richard finally went back to work at the transport company, rather than
risk having his wagon out at night. Jori had nothing to say as they rolled
through the city, past the poles holding up rotting corpses buried in the
sky.
Jori and Richard made trips out to the mines to pick up ore for the
foundries. They made one trip to a sandstone quarry a little ways to the
east of the city. That took the whole day there and back. The next day they
delivered the stone to the west side of Retreat, where it was needed for a
buttress. There were a number of poles, maybe fifty or sixty, on the other
side of the walls, over near the carving area. Apparently, some of the
workers had been purged, too.
On the way out, they went up the road past the blacksmith's shop.
Richard
jumped down off the wagon and told Jori that he would go up the hill
and join him
after the wagon made its way around the twists in the road. He said he
had to report
to the blacksmith about their next delivery. -
Inside the dark workshop, Victor was hammering a long piece of steel,
bending the red-hot metal over the horn of an anvil. He looked up and, when
he saw it was Richard, thrust the hot metal in the liquid beside this anvil,
where it bubbled and hissed.
"Richard! I'm glad to see you."
Richard noticed several of Victor's men were missing. "Sick?"