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outstretched arms up into the air. "I ask the good spirits to smile on this
woman's oath."
"Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, wizard, as being
agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union." Adie raised
outstretched arms up into the air. "I ask the good spirits to smile on this
man's oath."
The four of them crossed their arms and joined hands. With heads bowed,
the air in the center of their circle glowed with a living light shining on
the union. The brilliant flare sent a golden ray skyward, as if carrying the
oath to the good spirits.
Together, Zedd and Adie said, "From this time forward, you are forever
joined as husband and wife, both by oath, by love, and now by gift."
The magical light dissolved from the bottom up until it was but a
solitary star directly above them in an empty, late-afternoon sky.
In the silent winter air tens of thousands of spellbound eyes watched a
trembling Vema meet Warren's kiss to seal a wedding unlike any they were
likely to ever see again: the marriage of a sorceress and a wizard, bound by
more than any mere oath-bound also by a covenant of magic.
When Vema and Warren parted, both wearing broad smiles, the crowd went
wild. Cheers, along with hats, rose into the air.
Both beaming, Vema and Warren joined hands after they tumed to the
soldiers. They waved with their free arms high in the air. Soldiers cheered,
applauded, and whistled as if it were their own sister or best friend who
was just married.
The voices of the choir then built in an extended note that
reverberated through the trees all around. It made Kahlan's skin tingle with
the quality of its haunting tone. The sound brought a reverent hush to the
valley.
Cara leaned close to Kahlan and whispered in astonishment that the
choir was singing an ancient D'Haran wedding ceremonial song, the origin of
which went back thousands of years. Since the men had gone off to practice
alone, Kahlan hadn't heard it before the wedding. It was so powerful it
swept her emotions away with the rise and fall of the joined voices. Vema
and Warren stood on the edge of the platform, likewise gripped by the
achingly beautiful song to their union.
Flutes joined in, and then drums. The soldiers, mostly D'Haran, smiled
as they listened to the music they knew well. It struck Kahlan then, since
she had so long thought of D'Hara as an enemy land, that she had never
really thought of D'Harans as having traditions that could be meaningful, or
stirring, or beloved.
Kahlan glanced over at Cara, standing beside her, smiling distantly as
she listened to the music. There was an entire land of D'Hara that was
largely a mystery to Kahlan; she had only seen their soldiers. She knew
nothing of their womenother than the Mord-Sith, and they were hardly
typical-or their children, or their homes, or their customs. She had come to
think of them as joined together at last, but she now realized that they
were a people she didn't know, a people with their own heritage.
"It's beautiful," Kahlan whispered to Cara.
Cara nodded blissfully, carried away on the strains of music that was
an old acquaintance to her,-and a exotic wonder to Kahlan.
As the choir came to the end of their tribute to the newly wedded
couple, Verna reached back and squeezed Kahlan's hand. It was an apology of
sorts-an acknowledgment of how difficult this ceremony must be for Kahlan.
Refusing to let that hurt tarnish this joyous event, Kahlan beamed at
Verna's quick glance. She came forward, standing behind Warren and Verna
with an arm around each. The noise of the crowd trailed off so Kahlan could
speak.
"These two people belong together. Perhaps they always have. Now they
forever shall be. May the good spirits be with them always."
With one voice, the entire crowd repeated the prayer.
"I want to thank Verna and Warren from the bottom of my heart," Kahlan
said as she gazed out at the tens of thousands of faces watching, "for
reminding us what life is really about. There is no more eloquent
demonstration of the simple yet deep meaning of our cause than this wedding
today."
Heads as far as she could see bobbed in agreement.
"Now," Kahlan called out, "who wants to see these two have the first
dance?"
The men cheered and hooted as they spread back to open up the central
area. Musicians lined up along the benches at the sides.
As they waited for Verna and Warren to make their way down to the dance
area, Kahlan draped an arm over Zedd's shoulder and kissed his cheek.
"This is the best idea you ever had, wizard."
He took her in with hazel eyes that seemed to see all the way to a
person's soul.
"Are you all right, dear one? I know this has to be hard."
Kahlan nodded, holding her grin firmly in place. "I'm fine. It has to
be hard on you, twice over."
A smile took him unexpectedly. "There you go again, Mother Confessor.
Worrying about others."
Kahlan watched a laughing Verna and Warren, arm in arm, dancing lightly
across the open area ringed by applauding soldiers.
"When they're done," Kahlan asked, "and after you've given your first
to Adie, would you dance with me, sir? Stand in for him? I'm sure he would
want that."
Kahlan couldn't bring herself to say his name at that moment, or the
spell of the joyful celebration would have been broken.
Zedd lifted an eyebrow with playful delight. "What makes you think I
can dance?"
Kahlan laughed. "Because there isn't anything you can't do."
"I be able to name a number of things this skinny old man can't do,"
Adie said with a smile as she shuffled up behind him.
When the dance was done, and others began joining in as the newly
married couple began the second, Zedd and Adie went out in the ring to have
a dance and show the young people how it was done. Kahlan stood at the edge
of the circle with Cara close at her side. General Meiffert, laughing and
shaking men's hands, slapping others on the back, made his way over.
"Mother Confessor!" He was pushed up close by the press of the crowd.
"Mother Confessor, this is a wonderful day, isn't it? Have you ever seen the
likes of it?"
Kahlan couldn't help but to smile at his delight. "No, General
Meiffert, I don't think I have."
He glanced briefly at Cara. He stood awkwardly a moment, then turned to
watch the dancing. Despite how well the men had come to know her, Kahlan was
still a Confessor-a woman people feared to be near, much less touch. No one
was likely to ask a Confessor to dance.
Or a Mord-Sith.
"General?" Kahlan asked, tapping him on the back of his shoulder.
"General, could you do me a great personal favor?"
"Well, of course, Mother Confessor," he stammered. "Anything. What is
it I can do?"
Kahlan gestured out at the dance area and the soldiers and Sisters
ringing it. "Would you please dance? I know we're supposed to be on guard
for any mischief, but I think it would let the men see the true festive
nature of this party, were their general to go out there and dance."
"Dance?"
"Yes. Please?"
"But, I-that is, I don't know who. . ."
"Oh, do please stop trying to get out of it." Kahlan turned, as if
suddenly struck with a thought. "Cara. Would you go out there with him and
dance so his men will see that it's all right to join in?"
Cara's blue eyes shifted between Kahlan and the general. "Well, I don't
see how-"
"Do it for me? Please, Cara?" Kahlan turned back to the general. "I
believe I heard someone mention that your given name is Benjamin?"
He scratched his temple. "That's right, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan turned back to Cara. "Cara, Benjamin, here, needs a-partner for
a dance. How about you? Please? Do it for me?"
Cara cleared her throat. "Well, all right. For you, then, Mother
Confessor."
"And don't break his ribs, or anything. We have need of his talents."
Cara scowled back over her shoulder as a smiling Benjamin led her away.
Kahlan folded her arms and grinned as she watched the man take Cara in
his arms. It was just about a perfect day. Just about.
Kahlan was watching Benjamin gracefully swirl Cara around, and other
soldiers pulling suddenly shy Sisters out of the line at the edge of the
dance area, when Captain Ryan stumbled up.
He straightened before her. "Mother Confessor . . . uh, well, we've
been through a lot together and, if I'm not being too forward, could I ask
you to . . . you know, dance?"
Kahlan blinked in surprise at the tall, young, broad Galean.
"Why, yes, Bradley, I would love to dance with you. I would love it.
But only if you promise not to hold me like I'm made of glass. I don't want
to look foolish out there."
He grinned and nodded. "All right."
She placed one hand in his, and laid the other over his shoulder. He
put his big hand to the side of her waist, under her open fur mantle, and
twirled her out amid the merrymakers. Kahlan smiled and laughed as she
endured it. She thought of Spirit, and willed herself to remember that kind
of strength, and she was able to relax, and take the party for what it was,
and not think about what was missing as another man held her in his arms, if
timidly.
"Bradley, you're a wonderful dancer."
Pride shined in his eyes. She felt him loosen up, and let the music
flow more smoothly through his movements. Kahlan caught sight of Cara and
Benjamin, not far away, doing their best to dance and not look at each
other. When he whirled her around him, his arm securely holding her waist,
Cara's long blond braid sailed out behind her. Then Kahlan actually saw Cara
look up into Benjamin's blue eyes and smile.
Kahlan was relieved when the song ended and Captain Ryan was replaced
for the next dance by Zedd. She held him close as she moved to a slower tune
with him.
"I'm proud of you, Mother Confessor. You gave a wonderful thing to
these men."
"And what is that?"
"Your heart." He tilted his head. "See them watching you? You've given
them courage. You've given them a reason to believe in what they're doing."
Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. "You trickster, you. You may fool others, but
not me. It is you who has given me heart."
Zedd only smiled. "You know, not since the very first Confessor has a
man ever again figured out how to love such a woman without her power
destroying him. I'm glad it was my grandson who accomplished such an
exploit, and that it was for his love of you. I love you as a granddaughter,
Kahlan, and look forward to the day when you are back with my grandson."
Kahlan held Zedd close, resting her head against his shoulder, as they
both danced on with their memories.
As the dancing went on, the golden setting sun was finally replaced by
torches and warm fires. Sisters changed partners after each dance, and still
there were jovial men lined up out of sight waiting a turn, and not just
with the younger, more attractive Sisters. Cooks' helpers set out simple
fare on food tables, sampling some and joking with the soldiers as they went
about their task. Between dances, Warren and Verna tried the variety of food
from different tables.
Kahlan danced once more with Captain Ryan, and once more with Zedd, but
then busied herself speaking to officers and soldiers alike so she wouldn't
have to dance with anyone, should anyone feel awkward about asking her, yet
work up the nerve. She was more able to enjoy the festivities without having
to dance.
As she was greeting a line of young officers, and they were telling her
how much they appreciated the party, someone tapped Kahlan on the shoulder.
She turned to a smiling Warren.
"Mother Confessor, I would be honored were you to have a dance with
me."
Kahlan noticed Verna dancing with Zedd. This was one dance that would
be different. "Warren, I would love to dance with the handsome groom."
He moved smoothly with her, not at all haltingly as she had expected.
He seemed to be blissfully at peace, and not nervous about the crush of
people or the men constantly clapping him on the back, or the joking remarks
from some of the Sisters.
"Mother Confessor, I just wanted to thank you for making this the best
day I've ever had."
Kahlan smiled up into his young face, his ageless eyes. "Warren, thank
you for agreeing to this big party. I know it's not the sort of thing that
fits you-"
"Oh, but it is. That's just it. People used to call me the mole."
"They did? Why?"
"Because I used to stay down in the vaults all the time studying the
prophecies. It wasn't just that I liked to study the books-I was afraid to
come out."
"But you finally did."
He turned her in time with the sweep of music. "Richard brought me
out."
"He did? I never knew that."
"In a way, you've helped add to what he started." Warren smiled
distantly. "I just wanted to thank you. I know how much I miss him, and how
much Verna misses him. I know the men miss their Lord Rahl."
Kahlan was only able to nod.
"And I know how much you miss your husband. That's why I wanted to
thank you-for giving us this, and the gift of your grace, despite your
heartache. Everyone here feels it with you. Please know that while you miss
him, you are not alone, and are among those who love him too."
Kahlan smiled, and managed to get out a "Thank you."
As they danced across the open area, laughing at the merry tune and the
awkward steps of some of the soldiers, the music abruptly trailed off.
It was then that she heard the horns.
Alarm swept through the assembled soldiers, as men ran for their
weapons, until one of the sentries sprinted in, waving his arm, calling out
for everyone to stand down, that it was friendly forces.
Puzzled, Kahlan stretched her neck along with everyone else, trying to
see. They had no forces out. She had let them all be present to enjoy the
wedding party.
The crowd parted as horses trotted through the throng. Kahlan's
eyebrows went up, and her jaw dropped. The distinguished General Baldwin,
commander of all Keltish forces, was at the fore, riding a handsome chestnut
gelding. He brought the horse to a smart halt. He ran his first finger along
the length of his white-flecked dark mustache as he took in the crowd
gathered in around him. His graying black hair grew down over his ears, and
his pate shone through on top. He was a striking figure in his serge cape
fastened on one shoulder with two buttons, allowing it to show the rich
green silk lining. His tan surcoat was decorated with a heraldic emblem
slashed through with a diagonal black line dividing a yellow and blue
shield. The man's high boots were rolled down below his knees. Long black
gauntlets, their flared cuffs lying over the front, were tucked behind a
wide belt set with an ornate buckle.
The press of men made way for Kahlan to step through. "General!"
He lifted a hand in his noble manner, a smile spreading wide. "Mother
Confessor, how good to see you."
Kahlan started to speak, but horses charged through, the crowd falling
back for them. They stormed into the dance area like a wind-borne fire-a
dozen Mord-Sith in red leather. One of the women leaped from her horse.
"Rikka!" Cara called out.
The woman's bold glare swept over the gathered people. She finally
settled her gaze, taking in Cara. Cara moved out of General Meiffert's arms.
"Cara," she said as way of greeting. She glanced around. "Where is
Hania?"
Cara stepped closer. "Hania? She's not here."
The woman pressed her lips together in bitter disappointment. "I
thought as much. When I never received word back, I feared we had lost her.
Still, I was hoping. . ."
Kahlan stepped forward, a little miffed that the woman saw fit to step
in front of General Baldwin. "Rikka, is it?"
"Ah," Rikka said, a knowing smile stealing onto her face, "You could be
none other than Lord Rahl's wife-the Mother Confessor. I recognize the
description." The woman saluted casually with a fist to her heart. "Yes, I
am Rikka."
"I'm glad to have you here, and your sisters of the Agiel."
"I came from Aydindril as soon as Berdine received your letter. It
explained a lot. She and I discussed it, and decided I should come with some
of my sisters to help in our effort. I left six sister Mord-Sith with
Berdine to watch over Aydindril and the Wizard's Keep. I also brought twenty
thousand troops." She lifted a thumb, pointing with it behind her. "We met
up with the general, here, a week back."
"We can certainly use your help. That was wise of Berdine-I know how
eager she was to come herself, but she knows the city and the Keep. I'm glad
she followed my instructions." Kahlan settled her most unsettling
Mother-Confessor-gaze on Rikka. "Now, if you don't mind, you interrupted
General Baldwin."
Cara shoved Rikka, pushing her back out of the way. "We need to talk,
Rikka, before you're up to the task of serving Lord Rahl and his wife, who
just happens to be a sister of the Agiel."
Rikka lifted and eyebrow in surprise. "Really? How could-"
"Later," Cara said with a smile before Rikka could get herself into any
more trouble, moving the woman and her sister Mord-Sith back. Zedd, Adie,
and Verna eased closer to Kahlan.
General Baldwin, now off his horse, stepped forward at last and went to
a knee in a bow. "My queen, Mother Confessor."
"Rise, my child," Kahlan said in formal answer as the camp looked on
with the same rapt attention they had devoted to the wedding. This had
important bearing on them, too.
The general rose to his feet. "I came as soon as I received your
letter, Mother Confessor."
"How many men did you bring?"
He looked surprised by the question. "Why . . . all of them. One
hundred seventy thousand men. When my queen asks for an army, I bring her
one."
Whispers spread through the men as they passed word back.
Kahlan was stunned. She no longer even felt the cold. "That's
wonderful, General. They are sorely needed. We have a real fight on our
hands, as I explained in my letter. The Imperial Order is getting
reinforcements all the time. We need to cut those lines."
"I understand. With the D'Harans from Aydindril come with us, we can
just about triple the size of your force down here."
"And we can still bring more in from D'Hara," General Meiffert said.
Kahlan felt the hot spark of faith in their chances swelling within her
breast. "By
spring, for sure, we will need them." She cocked her head at General
Baldwin. "What about Lieutenant Leiden?"
"Who? Oh, you must mean Sergeant Leiden. He only has a scout patrol,
now. When a man deserts his queen, he's lucky to keep his head, but he acted
to protect her people, so I sent him to guard some remote pass. I hope the
man dresses warmly."
Kahlan wanted to throw her arms around the dashing General Baldwin.
Instead, she touched her fingers to his arm in a gesture of her gratitude.
"Thank you, General. We surely need the men."
"Well, they're up country a little ways, half a day back. Couldn't fit
them all in here with your army."
"That's fine." Kahlan waggled her fingers, calling the Mord-Sith
forward. "I'm very glad to see you, too, Rikka. With Mord-Sith, we can
better handle the enemy gifted. We may even be able to turn the tide. Cara,
here, has helped eliminate some of the gifted already, but I'm afraid that
Lord Rahl has her under orders to protect me. She will continue in that
capacity. But you will be free to go after their gifted."
Rikka bowed. "Love to." She came up and smiled. "Berdine warned me
about her," she said under her breath to Cara.
"You should listen to Berdine," Cara said, clapping her on the back.
"Come, I'll help you find some quarters-"
"No," Kahlan said, stopping them in their tracks. "This is a party. The
general, Rikka, and her sisters are invited. In fact, I insist."
"Well," Rikka said, brightening, "as long as we're protecting Lord
Rahl's wife, we would be only to happy to stay."
Kahlan took Rikka's arm and pulled her close. "Rikka, we have a lot of
men here, and few women. This is a dance. Get out there and dance."
"What! Are you out of your-"
Kahlan shoved her out into the dance area. She snapped her fingers at
the musicians. "Shall we resume?" She turned to General Baldwin. "General,
you have come at a wonderful time, a time of celebration. Please, would you
dance with me?"
"Mother Confessor?"
"I am your queen, also. Generals dance with queens, do they not?"
He smiled and offered his arm. "Of course they do, my queen."
Long after it was dark, the wedding procession made its way through the
makeshift streets, greeting all the men. Thousands of soldiers congratulated
Warren and Verna on their marriage, offered jesting advice, a gentle slap on
the back, or just a merry wave.
Kahlan recalled a time when the Midlands feared these men. Under Darken
Rahl, they were a formidable invader; inspiring dread and terror. She was
amazed at how civil these men could be, how human, when given a chance. It
was Richard, really, who had given them that chance. She knew that many of
them understood that, and appreciated it.
When finally they reached the end of the long winding walk through the
sprawling camp, they came at last to the tent Verna and Warren thought was
to be theirs. Those following along bid the couple a good night and wandered
back to the party, leaving the three of them alone.
Rather than let Verna and Warren slow, Kahlan stepped between them,
took each under an arm, and guided them onto the path among the towering
trees. Moonlight
through the boughs cast wavering patterns on the snow. Not knowing what
she was up to, neither Verna nor Warren protested as Kahlan kept them
moving.
Finally, Kahlan spotted the lodge off through the trees. She stopped a
little distance away to let them see the candlelight coming from behind the
lace-like curtain. The juxtaposition against life in an army camp made it
looked all the more romantic.
"This is a long and difficult struggle," Kahlan told them. "Starting a
marriage under these conditions is a harsh burden. I can't tell you how
happy I am that you two chose to go forward with it at a time like this. It
means a great deal to all of us. We're all very happy for you. More than
anything, I would like to thank you both for choosing life in all its glory.
"We will one day have to move on, as surely the Order will move again
when spring comes, if not before. But for now, I want this place to be
yours. I can give you at least this much, this little piece of a normal life
together."
Verna unexpectedly burst into tears and buried her face in Kahlan's
shoulder. Kahlan patted the Prelate's heaving back, chuckling at how out of
character it was for Verna to show such emotion.
"Not a good idea, Verna, to let your new husband see you cry just as
he's about to take you to his bed."
That did it, and Verna laughed, too. She gripped Kahlan's shoulders as
she searched her eyes.
"I don't know what to say."
Kahlan kissed her cheek. "Love each another, be good to each other, and
treasure being together-that's what I would like more than anything."
Warren hugged her, whispering his thanks in her ear. Kahlan watched as
he led Verna the remaining distance to the lodge. At the door, both turned
and waved. At the last moment, Warren swept Verna off her feet. Her lilting
laugh drifted among the trees as he carried her through the doorway.
Alone, Kahlan turned back to the camp.
The door opened a crack. One bloodshot eye peered out into the dingy
hall.
"You have a room? My wife and I are looking for a room." Before the man
could close the door, Richard quickly added, "We were told you had one."
"What of it?"
Despite it being self-evident, Richard answered politely. "We've no
place to stay."
"Why bring your problems to me?"
Richard could hear angry words going back and forth between a man and
woman upstairs. Behind several of the doors in the hall, babies wailed
without pause. The heavy odor of rancid oil hung in the dank air. Out the
door at the back standing open to the narrow alley, young children, being
chased by older children, squealed as they ran through the cold rain.
Richard spoke without expectation into the narrow slit. "We need a
room."
A dog not far up the alleyway barked with monotonous persistence.
"Lots of people need a room. I only have one. I can't give it to you."
Nicci eased Richard aside and put her face close to the crack.
"We have the money for the first week." She shoved her hand against the
door when he started to shut it. "It's a public room. Your duty is to help
the public get rooms."
The man shouldered his weight into the door, shutting it in her face.
Richard turned away as Nicci began knocking. "Forget it," he said.
"Let's go get a loaf of bread."
Nicci usually followed his lead without admonishment, challenge, or
even comment, but this time, instead of minding him, she rapped persistently
on the door. Layers of peeling paint, every color from blue to yellow to
red, fell from under her knuckles.
"It's your duty," Nicci called to the closed door. "You've no right to
turn us away." No answer came. "We're going to report you."
The door opened a crack again. The eye glared out with menace.
"Has he a job?"
"No, but-"
"You go away. The both of your I'll report you!"
"For what, might I ask?"
"Look, lady, I got a room, but I got to keep it for people at the top
of the list."
"How do you know we're not at the top of the list?"
"Because if you were you would have said so first off and showed me the
approval you got with a seal on it. People at the head of the list have been
waiting a long time for a place. You're no better than a thief, trying to
take the place of a good
citizen who's followed the law. Now, go away, or I will take down your
names for the lodging inspector."
The door slammed shut again. The threat of having their names taken
down appeared to take some of the fight out of Nicci. She huffed a sigh as
they walked away, the bowed floor creaking and groaning underfoot. At least
they had been able to get in out of the rain for a brief time.
"We will have to keep looking," she told him. "If you had a job, first,
it would probably help. Maybe tomorrow you can look for a job while I keep
looking for a room."
Out in the cold rain once more, they crossed the muddy street to the
cobbled walkway on the other side. There were yet more places to check,
though Richard didn't hold out any hope of getting a room. They'd had doors
shut in their faces more times than he could count. Nicci wanted a room,
though, so they kept looking.
The weather was unusually cold for this far south in the Old World,
Nicci had told him. People said the cold spell and rain would soon pass. A
few days before it had been muggy and warm, so Richard had no reason to
doubt their judgment. It was disorienting for him to see woods and fields of
lush green vegetation in the dead of winter. There were some trees with
limbs bare for the season, but most were in full leaf.
As far south as they were in the Old World, it never got cold enough
for water to freeze. People only blinked dumbly when he spoke of snow. When
Richard explained snow as flakes of frozen white water that fell from the
sky and covered the ground with a cottony blanket, some people turned huffy,
thinking he was making a joke at their expense.
He knew that back home winter would be raging. Despite the turmoil
around him, Richard felt an inner tranquillity knowing that Kahlan was most
likely to be warm and snug in the house he had built; in that light, nothing
in his new life was of enough importance to distress him. She had food to
eat, firewood to keep her warm, and Cara for company. For now, she was safe.
Winter was wearing on and in spring she would be able to leave, but, for
now, Richard was confident that she was safe. That, and his thoughts and
memories of her, were his only solace.
People without rooms huddled in the alleyways, using whatever scrap of
solid material they could find to prop up over themselves for a roof. Walls
were fashioned from sodden blankets. He supposed that he and Nicci could
continue to do the same, but he feared Nicci falling ill in the cold and
wet-feared that then Kahlan, too, would fall ill.
Nicci checked the paper she carried. "These places on this register
they gave us are all supposed to be available for people newly arrived-not
just for people on a list. They need workers; they should be more diligent
in seeing to it that places are available. Do you see, Richard? Do you see
how hard it is for ordinary people to get along in life?"
Richard, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the
wind and rain, asked, "So, how do we get on a list?"
"We will have to go to a lodging office and request a room. They can
put us on a housing list."
It sounded simple, but matters were proving far more complex than they
sounded.
"If there aren't enough rooms, how will being on a list get us a place
to stay?"
"People die all the time."
"There's work here, that's why we came-that's why everyone else has
come.
I'll work hard and then we can afford to pay more. We still have a
little money. We just need to find a place that wants to rent a room for the
right price-without all this list foolishness."
"Really, Richard, are you that inhumane? How would those less fortunate
ever get rooms, then? The Order sets the prices to stop profiteers. They
make sure there is no favoritism. That makes it fair for all. We just need
to get on a list for a room, and then everything will be fine."
Watching the glistening cobbles before him as he walked, Richard
wondered how long they would be without a place until their name worked its
way to the top of a list. It looked to him as if a lot of people would need
to die before his and Nicci's names came up for a room-with more yet waiting
in turn for them to die.
He stepped first to one side and then the other to avoid bumping into
the river of people swirling past, making their way in the opposite
direction while trying to stay out of the mud of the street. He considered
again staying outside the city-a lot of people did that. But there were
outlaws and desperate people aplenty who preyed on those who were forced to
stay out in the open where there were no city guards. Were Nicci not opposed
to the idea, Richard would have found a place farther out and built a
shelter, perhaps with some other people so that they could together
discourage trouble.
Nicci wasn't interested in the idea. Nicci wanted to be in the city.
Multitudes came to the city looking for a better life. There were lists to
get on, and lines to wait in to see official people. You had a better chance
of doing those things if you had a room in the city, she said.
It was getting late in the day. The line at the bakery was out the door
and partway down the block.
"Why are all these people in line?" Richard whispered to Nicci. It was
the same every day when they went to buy bread.
She shrugged. "I guess there aren't enough bakeries."
"Seems like with all the customers, more people would want to open
bakeries."
Nicci leaned close, a scolding scowl darkening her brow. "The world
isn't as simple as you would like it to be, Richard. It used to be that way
in the Old World. Man's evil nature was allowed to flourish. People set
their own prices for goodswith greed being their only interest, not the good
of their fellow man. Only the wellto-do could afford to buy bread. Now, the
Order sees to it that everyone gets needed goods for a fair price. The Order
cares about everyone, not just those with unfair advantages."
She always seemed so impassioned when she spoke about the evil nature
of people. Richard wondered why a Sister of the Dark would care about evil,
but he didn't bother to ask.
The line wasn't moving very fast. The woman in front of him, suspicious
of their whispering, scowled back over her shoulder.
Richard met her glare with a broad smile.
"Good afternoon, ma'am." Her somber scowl faltered in the light of his
beaming grin. "We're new in town"-he gestured behind-"my wife and I. I'm
looking for work. We need a room, though. Would you know how a young couple,
strangers to the city, could go about getting a room?"
She half turned, holding her canvas bag in both hands, letting it pull
her arms straight as she leaned her shoulders against the wall. Her bag held
only a yellow wedge of cheese. Richard's smile and his friendly
conversational tone-artificial
though they were-were apparently so out of the ordinary that she seemed
unable to maintain her gruff demeanor.
"You have to have a job if you hope to get a room. There aren't enough
rooms in the city, what with all the new workers come for the abundance
provided by the wisdom of the Order. If you're able-bodied, you need to have
work, then they'll put your name on the list."
Richard scratched his head and kept smiling as the line slowly shuffled
along. "I'm eager to work."
"Easier to get a room if you can't work," the woman confided.
"But, I thought you just said you had to have a job if you were to have
any hope of getting a room."
"That's true, if you're able, like you look to be. Those folks with a
greater need, because they can't do for themselves, are rightly entitled to
benevolence and to be put higher on the list-like my husband, the poor man.
He's afflicted terrible like with consumption."
"I'm so sorry," Richard said.
She nodded with the weight of her burden. "It's mankind's wretched lot
to suffer. Nothing can be done about it, so there's no use trying. Only in
the next life will we get our reward. In this life, it's the duty of every
person with ability to help those unfortunate souls with needs. In that way
the able earn their reward in the next life."
Richard didn't argue. She shook a finger at him.
"Those who can work owe it to those who can't to do their best for the
good of all.
"I can work," Richard assured her. "We're from . . . a little place.
We're simple folks-from farming stock. We don't know much about how to go
about things like getting work in the city."
"The Order has brought the people a great abundance of work," a man
behind Nicci said, drawing Richard's attention. The man's oiled canvas coat
was buttoned tight at his throat. His big brown eyes blinked slowly, like a
cow as it chewed its cud. The way his jaw wobbled sideways as he spoke only
added to the impression. "The Order welcomes all workers to our struggle,
but you must be mindful of the needs of others-as the Creator Himself
wishes-and go about getting work in the proper fashion."
Richard, his stomach grumbling with hunger, listened as the man
explained. "You first need to belong to a citizen workers' group; they
protect the rights of citizens of the Order. You'll have to go before a
review assembly for approval to join the workers' group, and a fitness panel
to hear from a spokesman from the workers' citizen group who can vouch for
you. You must do this before you can go for a job."
"Why can't I just go to a place and show myself? Why can't they hire
me, if I fit their needs?"
"Just because you're from the country, that doesn't mean you shouldn't
be mindful of contributing toward the greater good of the Order."
"Of course not," Richard said. "I've always worked for myself,
thoughfarming to bring food to my fellow man, as is our duty. I don't know
how businesses do things."
The big brown eyes paused their blinking. The man peered suspiciously
for a moment, then his eyes finally went moony again. His jaw resumed its
wobbling as he chewed his words.
"It's the primary responsibility of business to be sensitive to the
needs of the people, to contribute to the public welfare, to be equitable.
The review board helps see to this. There is much more involved than the
narrow goals of businesses."
"I see," Richard said. "Well, I'd be grateful if you could tell me how
to go about it properly." He glanced briefly at Nicci. "I want to be a good
citizen and do things right."
By the man's pride in the explanation, and the way his big eyes blinked
faster as he laid it all out, Richard expected that the man was somehow
involved in the labyrinthine process. Richard didn't ask how you got a
spokesman from the citizen workers' group to vouch for you. The line inched
forward as the man explained the finer details of different sorts of work,
what each required, and how it was all for the benefit of those living
within the Order and under the grace of the Creator.
As he droned on, delivering his information with smug satisfaction,
Nicci watched Richard discreetly, and without comment, as he listened to the
procedures. She looked as if she was expecting him to suddenly turn from
polite to deadly. Richard knew there could be no point to a battle with this
man, so he remained polite.
It turned out that the man, named Mr. Gudgeons, seemed to know the most
about the quarry workers. Since Richard knew little about quarries, he
passed the time as they stood in line by asking a few questions that pleased
Mr. Gudgeons to answer-at great length.
The store ran out of bread and closed before they got any. The line of
people dissolved into the downpour, mumbling to one another as they went
about their woeful lot in life. Richard thanked the woman and Mr. Gudgeons
before he and Nicci moved on.
Richard paused at a cross street while Nicci studied her paper with the
list of rooms. All around, the blocky shapes of buildings rose out of the
gloom. Red paint on the side of one brick building was so faded that it left
the figure painted there looking like a blushing ghost. The faded whitewash
of words beneath the vanishing man were no longer legible.
Passing men gazed at Nicci in her wet clinging clothes, never seeing
her face. Her hair was plastered to her skull, her jaw quivered, and her
hands trembled, yet she didn't complain about the cold, as did everyone
else. They had been told that they couldn't get another list, with any new
rooms that might have recently become available, until the next day, so
Nicci was trying to keep this one whole, but in the rain it was a losing
battle.
Mangy horses slogged through the mud, some of the wagons they pulled
squeaking and groaning under the weight of a load. Only the main
thoroughfares, like the one they were on, were wide enough to allow teams of
horses and full-size wagons to easily pass in both directions. Some streets
were only wide enough for wagons to go in one direction. Some of those, with
no room to pull aside, were choked off by broken-down wagons. Richard saw a
dead horse in one narrow street, the rotting animal, attended by a cloud of
flies, still hitched to its wagon as it awaited someone to come haul it
away. The blocked streets only added to the congestion of the others. Some
streets, were wide enough only for handcarts. In many of the narrower
passageways only foot traffic could fit.
The smell of garbage and the stench of streets that also functioned as
open sewers had been enough to gag Richard for the first week until he'd
become numb to it.
The alleyways where he and Nicci had slept were the worst. The rain
only served to flush the filth out of every hole and carry it out into the
open, but at least as long as he was standing it washed off some of the
dirt.
All the cities Richard had seen after they'd entered the Old World and
traveled south from Tanimura were similar to this one, all suffering under
grinding poverty and inhuman conditions. Everything seemed caught in a
timeless trap, a morass of rot, as if the cities had once been vibrant with
life and people striving to fulfill dreams, had once been places of hope and
ambition, but somewhere the dreams had disintegrated into a gray pall of
stagnation and decay. No one seemed to much care. Everyone seemed in a daze,
biding their time, waiting for their lot in life to improve without even
having a concept of the shape of that better life or how it might come to
be. They existed on disembodied faith, confident only that the afterlife
would be perfect.
The cities Richard had seen were startlingly similar to what Richard
envisioned the future held for the New World under the yoke of the Order.
This place, though, was the single largest city Richard had ever seen.
He would never have believed the size of it had he not seen it himself.
Dilapidated buildings entangled by streets teeming with people sprawled over
a sweep of low hills, across a broad bottomland, for miles along the
convergence of two rivers. Squat ramshackle huts built haphazardly of wattle
and daub, scraps of wood, or salvaged mud and straw bricks beset the city's
core to a great distance out into the surrounding land, like fetid scum
surrounding a rotting log in a stagnant pond.
It was the city of Altur'Rang-the namesake of the land which was now
the heart of the Old World and the Imperial Order-the home city of Emperor
Jagang.
When they had first entered the Old World on their way south toward
Altur'Rang, Richard and Nicci had stopped at the northernmost large city in
the Old World, 'Ianimura, where the Palace of the Prophets had once stood.
Tanimura, one of the last places in the Old World to fall under the rule of
the Imperial Order, was a grand place, with wide boulevards lined with trees
and ornate buildings soaring several stories high, faced with columns and
arches and windows that let in the light. Tanimura, as large as it was,
turned out to be but an outpost of the Old World, far enough away that the
rot was only now reaching it.
For a span of a little over a month, Richard had found work in Tanimura
as a mason's tender, one of a dozen, hauling stone and mixing mortar for a
squat, unattractive building. The masons had simple huts the workers and
their families lived in, so Nicci had shelter. The master came to trust
Richard to keep up with his masons. When one of the stonecutters fell sick,
Richard was asked to stand in at squaring the blocks of granite for the
masons.
He found holding a chisel and mallet in his hands, cutting
stone-shaping it to his will-a revelation. In some ways, it was like carving
wood . . . but somehow much more.
From time to time, the master stood with fists on his hips, watching
Richard chisel square edges into the hard granite. Occasionally, in a gruff
voice, he would make minor corrections to Richard's method. After a time, as
the master saw that Richard took to the job and could cut a block square and
true, he no longer bothered watching. Before long Richard's blocks were
chosen first by the masons as cornerstones.
Other stonecutters arrived to do more demanding work-the adornments.
When
they had first shown up, Richard had been eager to see their work. They
cut into the face of blocks, meant to surround the entrance, a large flame
representing the Light of the Creator. Below that, they carved a crowd of
cowering people.
Richard had seen a number of stone carvings in the various places he
had been, from the Confessors' Palace in Aydindril to the People's Palace in
D'Hara, but he had never seen anything like the figures he saw being cut on
that building in Tanimura. They were not graceful, or grand, or inspiring,
but just the opposite. They were distorted, thick-limbed, cringing figures
recoiling below the Light. Richard was told by one of the artisans that this
was the only proper representation of mankind-profane, hideous, sinful.
Richard kept his mind on cutting square stones.
When the stonework to the Order's headquarters building was finished,
the job ended. The carpenters didn't need any more help. The artisans said
they could use some assistance carving the anguish of mankind and offered
Richard the work. He declined, telling them that he had no ability for
carving.
Besides, Nicci had been eager to move on; Tanimura had only been a
place to earn some money to buy provisions for the long journey ahead of
them. Richard was glad to be away from the depressing sight of the carving
going on.
Along the way southeast to Altur'Rang, in the cities they passed
woman's oath."
"Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, wizard, as being
agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union." Adie raised
outstretched arms up into the air. "I ask the good spirits to smile on this
man's oath."
The four of them crossed their arms and joined hands. With heads bowed,
the air in the center of their circle glowed with a living light shining on
the union. The brilliant flare sent a golden ray skyward, as if carrying the
oath to the good spirits.
Together, Zedd and Adie said, "From this time forward, you are forever
joined as husband and wife, both by oath, by love, and now by gift."
The magical light dissolved from the bottom up until it was but a
solitary star directly above them in an empty, late-afternoon sky.
In the silent winter air tens of thousands of spellbound eyes watched a
trembling Vema meet Warren's kiss to seal a wedding unlike any they were
likely to ever see again: the marriage of a sorceress and a wizard, bound by
more than any mere oath-bound also by a covenant of magic.
When Vema and Warren parted, both wearing broad smiles, the crowd went
wild. Cheers, along with hats, rose into the air.
Both beaming, Vema and Warren joined hands after they tumed to the
soldiers. They waved with their free arms high in the air. Soldiers cheered,
applauded, and whistled as if it were their own sister or best friend who
was just married.
The voices of the choir then built in an extended note that
reverberated through the trees all around. It made Kahlan's skin tingle with
the quality of its haunting tone. The sound brought a reverent hush to the
valley.
Cara leaned close to Kahlan and whispered in astonishment that the
choir was singing an ancient D'Haran wedding ceremonial song, the origin of
which went back thousands of years. Since the men had gone off to practice
alone, Kahlan hadn't heard it before the wedding. It was so powerful it
swept her emotions away with the rise and fall of the joined voices. Vema
and Warren stood on the edge of the platform, likewise gripped by the
achingly beautiful song to their union.
Flutes joined in, and then drums. The soldiers, mostly D'Haran, smiled
as they listened to the music they knew well. It struck Kahlan then, since
she had so long thought of D'Hara as an enemy land, that she had never
really thought of D'Harans as having traditions that could be meaningful, or
stirring, or beloved.
Kahlan glanced over at Cara, standing beside her, smiling distantly as
she listened to the music. There was an entire land of D'Hara that was
largely a mystery to Kahlan; she had only seen their soldiers. She knew
nothing of their womenother than the Mord-Sith, and they were hardly
typical-or their children, or their homes, or their customs. She had come to
think of them as joined together at last, but she now realized that they
were a people she didn't know, a people with their own heritage.
"It's beautiful," Kahlan whispered to Cara.
Cara nodded blissfully, carried away on the strains of music that was
an old acquaintance to her,-and a exotic wonder to Kahlan.
As the choir came to the end of their tribute to the newly wedded
couple, Verna reached back and squeezed Kahlan's hand. It was an apology of
sorts-an acknowledgment of how difficult this ceremony must be for Kahlan.
Refusing to let that hurt tarnish this joyous event, Kahlan beamed at
Verna's quick glance. She came forward, standing behind Warren and Verna
with an arm around each. The noise of the crowd trailed off so Kahlan could
speak.
"These two people belong together. Perhaps they always have. Now they
forever shall be. May the good spirits be with them always."
With one voice, the entire crowd repeated the prayer.
"I want to thank Verna and Warren from the bottom of my heart," Kahlan
said as she gazed out at the tens of thousands of faces watching, "for
reminding us what life is really about. There is no more eloquent
demonstration of the simple yet deep meaning of our cause than this wedding
today."
Heads as far as she could see bobbed in agreement.
"Now," Kahlan called out, "who wants to see these two have the first
dance?"
The men cheered and hooted as they spread back to open up the central
area. Musicians lined up along the benches at the sides.
As they waited for Verna and Warren to make their way down to the dance
area, Kahlan draped an arm over Zedd's shoulder and kissed his cheek.
"This is the best idea you ever had, wizard."
He took her in with hazel eyes that seemed to see all the way to a
person's soul.
"Are you all right, dear one? I know this has to be hard."
Kahlan nodded, holding her grin firmly in place. "I'm fine. It has to
be hard on you, twice over."
A smile took him unexpectedly. "There you go again, Mother Confessor.
Worrying about others."
Kahlan watched a laughing Verna and Warren, arm in arm, dancing lightly
across the open area ringed by applauding soldiers.
"When they're done," Kahlan asked, "and after you've given your first
to Adie, would you dance with me, sir? Stand in for him? I'm sure he would
want that."
Kahlan couldn't bring herself to say his name at that moment, or the
spell of the joyful celebration would have been broken.
Zedd lifted an eyebrow with playful delight. "What makes you think I
can dance?"
Kahlan laughed. "Because there isn't anything you can't do."
"I be able to name a number of things this skinny old man can't do,"
Adie said with a smile as she shuffled up behind him.
When the dance was done, and others began joining in as the newly
married couple began the second, Zedd and Adie went out in the ring to have
a dance and show the young people how it was done. Kahlan stood at the edge
of the circle with Cara close at her side. General Meiffert, laughing and
shaking men's hands, slapping others on the back, made his way over.
"Mother Confessor!" He was pushed up close by the press of the crowd.
"Mother Confessor, this is a wonderful day, isn't it? Have you ever seen the
likes of it?"
Kahlan couldn't help but to smile at his delight. "No, General
Meiffert, I don't think I have."
He glanced briefly at Cara. He stood awkwardly a moment, then turned to
watch the dancing. Despite how well the men had come to know her, Kahlan was
still a Confessor-a woman people feared to be near, much less touch. No one
was likely to ask a Confessor to dance.
Or a Mord-Sith.
"General?" Kahlan asked, tapping him on the back of his shoulder.
"General, could you do me a great personal favor?"
"Well, of course, Mother Confessor," he stammered. "Anything. What is
it I can do?"
Kahlan gestured out at the dance area and the soldiers and Sisters
ringing it. "Would you please dance? I know we're supposed to be on guard
for any mischief, but I think it would let the men see the true festive
nature of this party, were their general to go out there and dance."
"Dance?"
"Yes. Please?"
"But, I-that is, I don't know who. . ."
"Oh, do please stop trying to get out of it." Kahlan turned, as if
suddenly struck with a thought. "Cara. Would you go out there with him and
dance so his men will see that it's all right to join in?"
Cara's blue eyes shifted between Kahlan and the general. "Well, I don't
see how-"
"Do it for me? Please, Cara?" Kahlan turned back to the general. "I
believe I heard someone mention that your given name is Benjamin?"
He scratched his temple. "That's right, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan turned back to Cara. "Cara, Benjamin, here, needs a-partner for
a dance. How about you? Please? Do it for me?"
Cara cleared her throat. "Well, all right. For you, then, Mother
Confessor."
"And don't break his ribs, or anything. We have need of his talents."
Cara scowled back over her shoulder as a smiling Benjamin led her away.
Kahlan folded her arms and grinned as she watched the man take Cara in
his arms. It was just about a perfect day. Just about.
Kahlan was watching Benjamin gracefully swirl Cara around, and other
soldiers pulling suddenly shy Sisters out of the line at the edge of the
dance area, when Captain Ryan stumbled up.
He straightened before her. "Mother Confessor . . . uh, well, we've
been through a lot together and, if I'm not being too forward, could I ask
you to . . . you know, dance?"
Kahlan blinked in surprise at the tall, young, broad Galean.
"Why, yes, Bradley, I would love to dance with you. I would love it.
But only if you promise not to hold me like I'm made of glass. I don't want
to look foolish out there."
He grinned and nodded. "All right."
She placed one hand in his, and laid the other over his shoulder. He
put his big hand to the side of her waist, under her open fur mantle, and
twirled her out amid the merrymakers. Kahlan smiled and laughed as she
endured it. She thought of Spirit, and willed herself to remember that kind
of strength, and she was able to relax, and take the party for what it was,
and not think about what was missing as another man held her in his arms, if
timidly.
"Bradley, you're a wonderful dancer."
Pride shined in his eyes. She felt him loosen up, and let the music
flow more smoothly through his movements. Kahlan caught sight of Cara and
Benjamin, not far away, doing their best to dance and not look at each
other. When he whirled her around him, his arm securely holding her waist,
Cara's long blond braid sailed out behind her. Then Kahlan actually saw Cara
look up into Benjamin's blue eyes and smile.
Kahlan was relieved when the song ended and Captain Ryan was replaced
for the next dance by Zedd. She held him close as she moved to a slower tune
with him.
"I'm proud of you, Mother Confessor. You gave a wonderful thing to
these men."
"And what is that?"
"Your heart." He tilted his head. "See them watching you? You've given
them courage. You've given them a reason to believe in what they're doing."
Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. "You trickster, you. You may fool others, but
not me. It is you who has given me heart."
Zedd only smiled. "You know, not since the very first Confessor has a
man ever again figured out how to love such a woman without her power
destroying him. I'm glad it was my grandson who accomplished such an
exploit, and that it was for his love of you. I love you as a granddaughter,
Kahlan, and look forward to the day when you are back with my grandson."
Kahlan held Zedd close, resting her head against his shoulder, as they
both danced on with their memories.
As the dancing went on, the golden setting sun was finally replaced by
torches and warm fires. Sisters changed partners after each dance, and still
there were jovial men lined up out of sight waiting a turn, and not just
with the younger, more attractive Sisters. Cooks' helpers set out simple
fare on food tables, sampling some and joking with the soldiers as they went
about their task. Between dances, Warren and Verna tried the variety of food
from different tables.
Kahlan danced once more with Captain Ryan, and once more with Zedd, but
then busied herself speaking to officers and soldiers alike so she wouldn't
have to dance with anyone, should anyone feel awkward about asking her, yet
work up the nerve. She was more able to enjoy the festivities without having
to dance.
As she was greeting a line of young officers, and they were telling her
how much they appreciated the party, someone tapped Kahlan on the shoulder.
She turned to a smiling Warren.
"Mother Confessor, I would be honored were you to have a dance with
me."
Kahlan noticed Verna dancing with Zedd. This was one dance that would
be different. "Warren, I would love to dance with the handsome groom."
He moved smoothly with her, not at all haltingly as she had expected.
He seemed to be blissfully at peace, and not nervous about the crush of
people or the men constantly clapping him on the back, or the joking remarks
from some of the Sisters.
"Mother Confessor, I just wanted to thank you for making this the best
day I've ever had."
Kahlan smiled up into his young face, his ageless eyes. "Warren, thank
you for agreeing to this big party. I know it's not the sort of thing that
fits you-"
"Oh, but it is. That's just it. People used to call me the mole."
"They did? Why?"
"Because I used to stay down in the vaults all the time studying the
prophecies. It wasn't just that I liked to study the books-I was afraid to
come out."
"But you finally did."
He turned her in time with the sweep of music. "Richard brought me
out."
"He did? I never knew that."
"In a way, you've helped add to what he started." Warren smiled
distantly. "I just wanted to thank you. I know how much I miss him, and how
much Verna misses him. I know the men miss their Lord Rahl."
Kahlan was only able to nod.
"And I know how much you miss your husband. That's why I wanted to
thank you-for giving us this, and the gift of your grace, despite your
heartache. Everyone here feels it with you. Please know that while you miss
him, you are not alone, and are among those who love him too."
Kahlan smiled, and managed to get out a "Thank you."
As they danced across the open area, laughing at the merry tune and the
awkward steps of some of the soldiers, the music abruptly trailed off.
It was then that she heard the horns.
Alarm swept through the assembled soldiers, as men ran for their
weapons, until one of the sentries sprinted in, waving his arm, calling out
for everyone to stand down, that it was friendly forces.
Puzzled, Kahlan stretched her neck along with everyone else, trying to
see. They had no forces out. She had let them all be present to enjoy the
wedding party.
The crowd parted as horses trotted through the throng. Kahlan's
eyebrows went up, and her jaw dropped. The distinguished General Baldwin,
commander of all Keltish forces, was at the fore, riding a handsome chestnut
gelding. He brought the horse to a smart halt. He ran his first finger along
the length of his white-flecked dark mustache as he took in the crowd
gathered in around him. His graying black hair grew down over his ears, and
his pate shone through on top. He was a striking figure in his serge cape
fastened on one shoulder with two buttons, allowing it to show the rich
green silk lining. His tan surcoat was decorated with a heraldic emblem
slashed through with a diagonal black line dividing a yellow and blue
shield. The man's high boots were rolled down below his knees. Long black
gauntlets, their flared cuffs lying over the front, were tucked behind a
wide belt set with an ornate buckle.
The press of men made way for Kahlan to step through. "General!"
He lifted a hand in his noble manner, a smile spreading wide. "Mother
Confessor, how good to see you."
Kahlan started to speak, but horses charged through, the crowd falling
back for them. They stormed into the dance area like a wind-borne fire-a
dozen Mord-Sith in red leather. One of the women leaped from her horse.
"Rikka!" Cara called out.
The woman's bold glare swept over the gathered people. She finally
settled her gaze, taking in Cara. Cara moved out of General Meiffert's arms.
"Cara," she said as way of greeting. She glanced around. "Where is
Hania?"
Cara stepped closer. "Hania? She's not here."
The woman pressed her lips together in bitter disappointment. "I
thought as much. When I never received word back, I feared we had lost her.
Still, I was hoping. . ."
Kahlan stepped forward, a little miffed that the woman saw fit to step
in front of General Baldwin. "Rikka, is it?"
"Ah," Rikka said, a knowing smile stealing onto her face, "You could be
none other than Lord Rahl's wife-the Mother Confessor. I recognize the
description." The woman saluted casually with a fist to her heart. "Yes, I
am Rikka."
"I'm glad to have you here, and your sisters of the Agiel."
"I came from Aydindril as soon as Berdine received your letter. It
explained a lot. She and I discussed it, and decided I should come with some
of my sisters to help in our effort. I left six sister Mord-Sith with
Berdine to watch over Aydindril and the Wizard's Keep. I also brought twenty
thousand troops." She lifted a thumb, pointing with it behind her. "We met
up with the general, here, a week back."
"We can certainly use your help. That was wise of Berdine-I know how
eager she was to come herself, but she knows the city and the Keep. I'm glad
she followed my instructions." Kahlan settled her most unsettling
Mother-Confessor-gaze on Rikka. "Now, if you don't mind, you interrupted
General Baldwin."
Cara shoved Rikka, pushing her back out of the way. "We need to talk,
Rikka, before you're up to the task of serving Lord Rahl and his wife, who
just happens to be a sister of the Agiel."
Rikka lifted and eyebrow in surprise. "Really? How could-"
"Later," Cara said with a smile before Rikka could get herself into any
more trouble, moving the woman and her sister Mord-Sith back. Zedd, Adie,
and Verna eased closer to Kahlan.
General Baldwin, now off his horse, stepped forward at last and went to
a knee in a bow. "My queen, Mother Confessor."
"Rise, my child," Kahlan said in formal answer as the camp looked on
with the same rapt attention they had devoted to the wedding. This had
important bearing on them, too.
The general rose to his feet. "I came as soon as I received your
letter, Mother Confessor."
"How many men did you bring?"
He looked surprised by the question. "Why . . . all of them. One
hundred seventy thousand men. When my queen asks for an army, I bring her
one."
Whispers spread through the men as they passed word back.
Kahlan was stunned. She no longer even felt the cold. "That's
wonderful, General. They are sorely needed. We have a real fight on our
hands, as I explained in my letter. The Imperial Order is getting
reinforcements all the time. We need to cut those lines."
"I understand. With the D'Harans from Aydindril come with us, we can
just about triple the size of your force down here."
"And we can still bring more in from D'Hara," General Meiffert said.
Kahlan felt the hot spark of faith in their chances swelling within her
breast. "By
spring, for sure, we will need them." She cocked her head at General
Baldwin. "What about Lieutenant Leiden?"
"Who? Oh, you must mean Sergeant Leiden. He only has a scout patrol,
now. When a man deserts his queen, he's lucky to keep his head, but he acted
to protect her people, so I sent him to guard some remote pass. I hope the
man dresses warmly."
Kahlan wanted to throw her arms around the dashing General Baldwin.
Instead, she touched her fingers to his arm in a gesture of her gratitude.
"Thank you, General. We surely need the men."
"Well, they're up country a little ways, half a day back. Couldn't fit
them all in here with your army."
"That's fine." Kahlan waggled her fingers, calling the Mord-Sith
forward. "I'm very glad to see you, too, Rikka. With Mord-Sith, we can
better handle the enemy gifted. We may even be able to turn the tide. Cara,
here, has helped eliminate some of the gifted already, but I'm afraid that
Lord Rahl has her under orders to protect me. She will continue in that
capacity. But you will be free to go after their gifted."
Rikka bowed. "Love to." She came up and smiled. "Berdine warned me
about her," she said under her breath to Cara.
"You should listen to Berdine," Cara said, clapping her on the back.
"Come, I'll help you find some quarters-"
"No," Kahlan said, stopping them in their tracks. "This is a party. The
general, Rikka, and her sisters are invited. In fact, I insist."
"Well," Rikka said, brightening, "as long as we're protecting Lord
Rahl's wife, we would be only to happy to stay."
Kahlan took Rikka's arm and pulled her close. "Rikka, we have a lot of
men here, and few women. This is a dance. Get out there and dance."
"What! Are you out of your-"
Kahlan shoved her out into the dance area. She snapped her fingers at
the musicians. "Shall we resume?" She turned to General Baldwin. "General,
you have come at a wonderful time, a time of celebration. Please, would you
dance with me?"
"Mother Confessor?"
"I am your queen, also. Generals dance with queens, do they not?"
He smiled and offered his arm. "Of course they do, my queen."
Long after it was dark, the wedding procession made its way through the
makeshift streets, greeting all the men. Thousands of soldiers congratulated
Warren and Verna on their marriage, offered jesting advice, a gentle slap on
the back, or just a merry wave.
Kahlan recalled a time when the Midlands feared these men. Under Darken
Rahl, they were a formidable invader; inspiring dread and terror. She was
amazed at how civil these men could be, how human, when given a chance. It
was Richard, really, who had given them that chance. She knew that many of
them understood that, and appreciated it.
When finally they reached the end of the long winding walk through the
sprawling camp, they came at last to the tent Verna and Warren thought was
to be theirs. Those following along bid the couple a good night and wandered
back to the party, leaving the three of them alone.
Rather than let Verna and Warren slow, Kahlan stepped between them,
took each under an arm, and guided them onto the path among the towering
trees. Moonlight
through the boughs cast wavering patterns on the snow. Not knowing what
she was up to, neither Verna nor Warren protested as Kahlan kept them
moving.
Finally, Kahlan spotted the lodge off through the trees. She stopped a
little distance away to let them see the candlelight coming from behind the
lace-like curtain. The juxtaposition against life in an army camp made it
looked all the more romantic.
"This is a long and difficult struggle," Kahlan told them. "Starting a
marriage under these conditions is a harsh burden. I can't tell you how
happy I am that you two chose to go forward with it at a time like this. It
means a great deal to all of us. We're all very happy for you. More than
anything, I would like to thank you both for choosing life in all its glory.
"We will one day have to move on, as surely the Order will move again
when spring comes, if not before. But for now, I want this place to be
yours. I can give you at least this much, this little piece of a normal life
together."
Verna unexpectedly burst into tears and buried her face in Kahlan's
shoulder. Kahlan patted the Prelate's heaving back, chuckling at how out of
character it was for Verna to show such emotion.
"Not a good idea, Verna, to let your new husband see you cry just as
he's about to take you to his bed."
That did it, and Verna laughed, too. She gripped Kahlan's shoulders as
she searched her eyes.
"I don't know what to say."
Kahlan kissed her cheek. "Love each another, be good to each other, and
treasure being together-that's what I would like more than anything."
Warren hugged her, whispering his thanks in her ear. Kahlan watched as
he led Verna the remaining distance to the lodge. At the door, both turned
and waved. At the last moment, Warren swept Verna off her feet. Her lilting
laugh drifted among the trees as he carried her through the doorway.
Alone, Kahlan turned back to the camp.
The door opened a crack. One bloodshot eye peered out into the dingy
hall.
"You have a room? My wife and I are looking for a room." Before the man
could close the door, Richard quickly added, "We were told you had one."
"What of it?"
Despite it being self-evident, Richard answered politely. "We've no
place to stay."
"Why bring your problems to me?"
Richard could hear angry words going back and forth between a man and
woman upstairs. Behind several of the doors in the hall, babies wailed
without pause. The heavy odor of rancid oil hung in the dank air. Out the
door at the back standing open to the narrow alley, young children, being
chased by older children, squealed as they ran through the cold rain.
Richard spoke without expectation into the narrow slit. "We need a
room."
A dog not far up the alleyway barked with monotonous persistence.
"Lots of people need a room. I only have one. I can't give it to you."
Nicci eased Richard aside and put her face close to the crack.
"We have the money for the first week." She shoved her hand against the
door when he started to shut it. "It's a public room. Your duty is to help
the public get rooms."
The man shouldered his weight into the door, shutting it in her face.
Richard turned away as Nicci began knocking. "Forget it," he said.
"Let's go get a loaf of bread."
Nicci usually followed his lead without admonishment, challenge, or
even comment, but this time, instead of minding him, she rapped persistently
on the door. Layers of peeling paint, every color from blue to yellow to
red, fell from under her knuckles.
"It's your duty," Nicci called to the closed door. "You've no right to
turn us away." No answer came. "We're going to report you."
The door opened a crack again. The eye glared out with menace.
"Has he a job?"
"No, but-"
"You go away. The both of your I'll report you!"
"For what, might I ask?"
"Look, lady, I got a room, but I got to keep it for people at the top
of the list."
"How do you know we're not at the top of the list?"
"Because if you were you would have said so first off and showed me the
approval you got with a seal on it. People at the head of the list have been
waiting a long time for a place. You're no better than a thief, trying to
take the place of a good
citizen who's followed the law. Now, go away, or I will take down your
names for the lodging inspector."
The door slammed shut again. The threat of having their names taken
down appeared to take some of the fight out of Nicci. She huffed a sigh as
they walked away, the bowed floor creaking and groaning underfoot. At least
they had been able to get in out of the rain for a brief time.
"We will have to keep looking," she told him. "If you had a job, first,
it would probably help. Maybe tomorrow you can look for a job while I keep
looking for a room."
Out in the cold rain once more, they crossed the muddy street to the
cobbled walkway on the other side. There were yet more places to check,
though Richard didn't hold out any hope of getting a room. They'd had doors
shut in their faces more times than he could count. Nicci wanted a room,
though, so they kept looking.
The weather was unusually cold for this far south in the Old World,
Nicci had told him. People said the cold spell and rain would soon pass. A
few days before it had been muggy and warm, so Richard had no reason to
doubt their judgment. It was disorienting for him to see woods and fields of
lush green vegetation in the dead of winter. There were some trees with
limbs bare for the season, but most were in full leaf.
As far south as they were in the Old World, it never got cold enough
for water to freeze. People only blinked dumbly when he spoke of snow. When
Richard explained snow as flakes of frozen white water that fell from the
sky and covered the ground with a cottony blanket, some people turned huffy,
thinking he was making a joke at their expense.
He knew that back home winter would be raging. Despite the turmoil
around him, Richard felt an inner tranquillity knowing that Kahlan was most
likely to be warm and snug in the house he had built; in that light, nothing
in his new life was of enough importance to distress him. She had food to
eat, firewood to keep her warm, and Cara for company. For now, she was safe.
Winter was wearing on and in spring she would be able to leave, but, for
now, Richard was confident that she was safe. That, and his thoughts and
memories of her, were his only solace.
People without rooms huddled in the alleyways, using whatever scrap of
solid material they could find to prop up over themselves for a roof. Walls
were fashioned from sodden blankets. He supposed that he and Nicci could
continue to do the same, but he feared Nicci falling ill in the cold and
wet-feared that then Kahlan, too, would fall ill.
Nicci checked the paper she carried. "These places on this register
they gave us are all supposed to be available for people newly arrived-not
just for people on a list. They need workers; they should be more diligent
in seeing to it that places are available. Do you see, Richard? Do you see
how hard it is for ordinary people to get along in life?"
Richard, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the
wind and rain, asked, "So, how do we get on a list?"
"We will have to go to a lodging office and request a room. They can
put us on a housing list."
It sounded simple, but matters were proving far more complex than they
sounded.
"If there aren't enough rooms, how will being on a list get us a place
to stay?"
"People die all the time."
"There's work here, that's why we came-that's why everyone else has
come.
I'll work hard and then we can afford to pay more. We still have a
little money. We just need to find a place that wants to rent a room for the
right price-without all this list foolishness."
"Really, Richard, are you that inhumane? How would those less fortunate
ever get rooms, then? The Order sets the prices to stop profiteers. They
make sure there is no favoritism. That makes it fair for all. We just need
to get on a list for a room, and then everything will be fine."
Watching the glistening cobbles before him as he walked, Richard
wondered how long they would be without a place until their name worked its
way to the top of a list. It looked to him as if a lot of people would need
to die before his and Nicci's names came up for a room-with more yet waiting
in turn for them to die.
He stepped first to one side and then the other to avoid bumping into
the river of people swirling past, making their way in the opposite
direction while trying to stay out of the mud of the street. He considered
again staying outside the city-a lot of people did that. But there were
outlaws and desperate people aplenty who preyed on those who were forced to
stay out in the open where there were no city guards. Were Nicci not opposed
to the idea, Richard would have found a place farther out and built a
shelter, perhaps with some other people so that they could together
discourage trouble.
Nicci wasn't interested in the idea. Nicci wanted to be in the city.
Multitudes came to the city looking for a better life. There were lists to
get on, and lines to wait in to see official people. You had a better chance
of doing those things if you had a room in the city, she said.
It was getting late in the day. The line at the bakery was out the door
and partway down the block.
"Why are all these people in line?" Richard whispered to Nicci. It was
the same every day when they went to buy bread.
She shrugged. "I guess there aren't enough bakeries."
"Seems like with all the customers, more people would want to open
bakeries."
Nicci leaned close, a scolding scowl darkening her brow. "The world
isn't as simple as you would like it to be, Richard. It used to be that way
in the Old World. Man's evil nature was allowed to flourish. People set
their own prices for goodswith greed being their only interest, not the good
of their fellow man. Only the wellto-do could afford to buy bread. Now, the
Order sees to it that everyone gets needed goods for a fair price. The Order
cares about everyone, not just those with unfair advantages."
She always seemed so impassioned when she spoke about the evil nature
of people. Richard wondered why a Sister of the Dark would care about evil,
but he didn't bother to ask.
The line wasn't moving very fast. The woman in front of him, suspicious
of their whispering, scowled back over her shoulder.
Richard met her glare with a broad smile.
"Good afternoon, ma'am." Her somber scowl faltered in the light of his
beaming grin. "We're new in town"-he gestured behind-"my wife and I. I'm
looking for work. We need a room, though. Would you know how a young couple,
strangers to the city, could go about getting a room?"
She half turned, holding her canvas bag in both hands, letting it pull
her arms straight as she leaned her shoulders against the wall. Her bag held
only a yellow wedge of cheese. Richard's smile and his friendly
conversational tone-artificial
though they were-were apparently so out of the ordinary that she seemed
unable to maintain her gruff demeanor.
"You have to have a job if you hope to get a room. There aren't enough
rooms in the city, what with all the new workers come for the abundance
provided by the wisdom of the Order. If you're able-bodied, you need to have
work, then they'll put your name on the list."
Richard scratched his head and kept smiling as the line slowly shuffled
along. "I'm eager to work."
"Easier to get a room if you can't work," the woman confided.
"But, I thought you just said you had to have a job if you were to have
any hope of getting a room."
"That's true, if you're able, like you look to be. Those folks with a
greater need, because they can't do for themselves, are rightly entitled to
benevolence and to be put higher on the list-like my husband, the poor man.
He's afflicted terrible like with consumption."
"I'm so sorry," Richard said.
She nodded with the weight of her burden. "It's mankind's wretched lot
to suffer. Nothing can be done about it, so there's no use trying. Only in
the next life will we get our reward. In this life, it's the duty of every
person with ability to help those unfortunate souls with needs. In that way
the able earn their reward in the next life."
Richard didn't argue. She shook a finger at him.
"Those who can work owe it to those who can't to do their best for the
good of all.
"I can work," Richard assured her. "We're from . . . a little place.
We're simple folks-from farming stock. We don't know much about how to go
about things like getting work in the city."
"The Order has brought the people a great abundance of work," a man
behind Nicci said, drawing Richard's attention. The man's oiled canvas coat
was buttoned tight at his throat. His big brown eyes blinked slowly, like a
cow as it chewed its cud. The way his jaw wobbled sideways as he spoke only
added to the impression. "The Order welcomes all workers to our struggle,
but you must be mindful of the needs of others-as the Creator Himself
wishes-and go about getting work in the proper fashion."
Richard, his stomach grumbling with hunger, listened as the man
explained. "You first need to belong to a citizen workers' group; they
protect the rights of citizens of the Order. You'll have to go before a
review assembly for approval to join the workers' group, and a fitness panel
to hear from a spokesman from the workers' citizen group who can vouch for
you. You must do this before you can go for a job."
"Why can't I just go to a place and show myself? Why can't they hire
me, if I fit their needs?"
"Just because you're from the country, that doesn't mean you shouldn't
be mindful of contributing toward the greater good of the Order."
"Of course not," Richard said. "I've always worked for myself,
thoughfarming to bring food to my fellow man, as is our duty. I don't know
how businesses do things."
The big brown eyes paused their blinking. The man peered suspiciously
for a moment, then his eyes finally went moony again. His jaw resumed its
wobbling as he chewed his words.
"It's the primary responsibility of business to be sensitive to the
needs of the people, to contribute to the public welfare, to be equitable.
The review board helps see to this. There is much more involved than the
narrow goals of businesses."
"I see," Richard said. "Well, I'd be grateful if you could tell me how
to go about it properly." He glanced briefly at Nicci. "I want to be a good
citizen and do things right."
By the man's pride in the explanation, and the way his big eyes blinked
faster as he laid it all out, Richard expected that the man was somehow
involved in the labyrinthine process. Richard didn't ask how you got a
spokesman from the citizen workers' group to vouch for you. The line inched
forward as the man explained the finer details of different sorts of work,
what each required, and how it was all for the benefit of those living
within the Order and under the grace of the Creator.
As he droned on, delivering his information with smug satisfaction,
Nicci watched Richard discreetly, and without comment, as he listened to the
procedures. She looked as if she was expecting him to suddenly turn from
polite to deadly. Richard knew there could be no point to a battle with this
man, so he remained polite.
It turned out that the man, named Mr. Gudgeons, seemed to know the most
about the quarry workers. Since Richard knew little about quarries, he
passed the time as they stood in line by asking a few questions that pleased
Mr. Gudgeons to answer-at great length.
The store ran out of bread and closed before they got any. The line of
people dissolved into the downpour, mumbling to one another as they went
about their woeful lot in life. Richard thanked the woman and Mr. Gudgeons
before he and Nicci moved on.
Richard paused at a cross street while Nicci studied her paper with the
list of rooms. All around, the blocky shapes of buildings rose out of the
gloom. Red paint on the side of one brick building was so faded that it left
the figure painted there looking like a blushing ghost. The faded whitewash
of words beneath the vanishing man were no longer legible.
Passing men gazed at Nicci in her wet clinging clothes, never seeing
her face. Her hair was plastered to her skull, her jaw quivered, and her
hands trembled, yet she didn't complain about the cold, as did everyone
else. They had been told that they couldn't get another list, with any new
rooms that might have recently become available, until the next day, so
Nicci was trying to keep this one whole, but in the rain it was a losing
battle.
Mangy horses slogged through the mud, some of the wagons they pulled
squeaking and groaning under the weight of a load. Only the main
thoroughfares, like the one they were on, were wide enough to allow teams of
horses and full-size wagons to easily pass in both directions. Some streets
were only wide enough for wagons to go in one direction. Some of those, with
no room to pull aside, were choked off by broken-down wagons. Richard saw a
dead horse in one narrow street, the rotting animal, attended by a cloud of
flies, still hitched to its wagon as it awaited someone to come haul it
away. The blocked streets only added to the congestion of the others. Some
streets, were wide enough only for handcarts. In many of the narrower
passageways only foot traffic could fit.
The smell of garbage and the stench of streets that also functioned as
open sewers had been enough to gag Richard for the first week until he'd
become numb to it.
The alleyways where he and Nicci had slept were the worst. The rain
only served to flush the filth out of every hole and carry it out into the
open, but at least as long as he was standing it washed off some of the
dirt.
All the cities Richard had seen after they'd entered the Old World and
traveled south from Tanimura were similar to this one, all suffering under
grinding poverty and inhuman conditions. Everything seemed caught in a
timeless trap, a morass of rot, as if the cities had once been vibrant with
life and people striving to fulfill dreams, had once been places of hope and
ambition, but somewhere the dreams had disintegrated into a gray pall of
stagnation and decay. No one seemed to much care. Everyone seemed in a daze,
biding their time, waiting for their lot in life to improve without even
having a concept of the shape of that better life or how it might come to
be. They existed on disembodied faith, confident only that the afterlife
would be perfect.
The cities Richard had seen were startlingly similar to what Richard
envisioned the future held for the New World under the yoke of the Order.
This place, though, was the single largest city Richard had ever seen.
He would never have believed the size of it had he not seen it himself.
Dilapidated buildings entangled by streets teeming with people sprawled over
a sweep of low hills, across a broad bottomland, for miles along the
convergence of two rivers. Squat ramshackle huts built haphazardly of wattle
and daub, scraps of wood, or salvaged mud and straw bricks beset the city's
core to a great distance out into the surrounding land, like fetid scum
surrounding a rotting log in a stagnant pond.
It was the city of Altur'Rang-the namesake of the land which was now
the heart of the Old World and the Imperial Order-the home city of Emperor
Jagang.
When they had first entered the Old World on their way south toward
Altur'Rang, Richard and Nicci had stopped at the northernmost large city in
the Old World, 'Ianimura, where the Palace of the Prophets had once stood.
Tanimura, one of the last places in the Old World to fall under the rule of
the Imperial Order, was a grand place, with wide boulevards lined with trees
and ornate buildings soaring several stories high, faced with columns and
arches and windows that let in the light. Tanimura, as large as it was,
turned out to be but an outpost of the Old World, far enough away that the
rot was only now reaching it.
For a span of a little over a month, Richard had found work in Tanimura
as a mason's tender, one of a dozen, hauling stone and mixing mortar for a
squat, unattractive building. The masons had simple huts the workers and
their families lived in, so Nicci had shelter. The master came to trust
Richard to keep up with his masons. When one of the stonecutters fell sick,
Richard was asked to stand in at squaring the blocks of granite for the
masons.
He found holding a chisel and mallet in his hands, cutting
stone-shaping it to his will-a revelation. In some ways, it was like carving
wood . . . but somehow much more.
From time to time, the master stood with fists on his hips, watching
Richard chisel square edges into the hard granite. Occasionally, in a gruff
voice, he would make minor corrections to Richard's method. After a time, as
the master saw that Richard took to the job and could cut a block square and
true, he no longer bothered watching. Before long Richard's blocks were
chosen first by the masons as cornerstones.
Other stonecutters arrived to do more demanding work-the adornments.
When
they had first shown up, Richard had been eager to see their work. They
cut into the face of blocks, meant to surround the entrance, a large flame
representing the Light of the Creator. Below that, they carved a crowd of
cowering people.
Richard had seen a number of stone carvings in the various places he
had been, from the Confessors' Palace in Aydindril to the People's Palace in
D'Hara, but he had never seen anything like the figures he saw being cut on
that building in Tanimura. They were not graceful, or grand, or inspiring,
but just the opposite. They were distorted, thick-limbed, cringing figures
recoiling below the Light. Richard was told by one of the artisans that this
was the only proper representation of mankind-profane, hideous, sinful.
Richard kept his mind on cutting square stones.
When the stonework to the Order's headquarters building was finished,
the job ended. The carpenters didn't need any more help. The artisans said
they could use some assistance carving the anguish of mankind and offered
Richard the work. He declined, telling them that he had no ability for
carving.
Besides, Nicci had been eager to move on; Tanimura had only been a
place to earn some money to buy provisions for the long journey ahead of
them. Richard was glad to be away from the depressing sight of the carving
going on.
Along the way southeast to Altur'Rang, in the cities they passed