Kahlan realized with alarm that the enemy was much closer than she had expected. Throughout the ocean of men, torches meant to be used to set fires sparkled like moonlight off the vast sea flooding into the valley. At the horizon, that moonlight gleaming off uncountable weapons blurred into a flat line over which she almost expected to see ships sailing.

The undulating leading edge, bristling shields and spears, threatened to close off her path. Kahlan used her right heel, back against her horse's flank, to guide him a little to the right so as to clear the wave of soldiers. After she had corrected his course, she thumped her heels against the animal's ribs, urging him on.

And then she realized, as arrows zipped past and spears plunged to the ground just in front of her, that in the light of the wizard's fire, the enemy could see her, too.

The ball of wizard's fire that had revealed her to the enemy wailed off into the darkness, leaving her in shadow and lighting tens of thousands of men at a time as it passed over their heads. Far in the distance, behind the advancing horde, the fire finally crashed to the ground, igniting a conflagration in the midst of the cavalry. Horsemen were often held back, ready to charge forth when their men encountered the D'Haran lines. The distant mortal screams of man and beast rose into the night.

An arrow skipped off her leather leg armor. More zipped past. One stuck in the saddle just below her stomach as she leaned forward over the galloping horse's withers. Apparently, in the moonlight they could still spot her and Verna racing past.

"Why aren't they blind?" Kahlan called over her shoulder.

She could see a cloud billowing out behind them. It looked little different than

302

the dust the horse raised as it galloped, except Kahlan saw that it was coming from the bucket Verna rested against her thigh as she tipped it toward the enemy lines, a little more, a little less, controlling the amount that poured out, keeping it in a steady stream. Cara had already been past, yet the men showed no ill effect.

"It takes a little while to work," Verna said in Kahlan's ear. "They have to blink a bit."

Fire raced past right behind them. Fiery droplets splashed down onto the snow, splattering when they hit, hissing like rain on hot stones round a fire. The horse snorted as he raced onward in near panic. As she leaned over his withers, Kahlan stroked his neck reassuringly, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

Kahlan let her gaze sweep along the advancing enemy line as she raced before them. She saw that the men were doing little blinking. Their eyes were wide in their fervor for the coming battle.

The wizard's fire that had so spooked the horse from behind exploded through the enemy ranks. Liquid flames spilled across the mass of soldiers, touching off a shrill roar of ghastly cries. When burning men crashed into soldiers around them, fire splashed onto them, too, spreading the horror. Around the fire, the advancing line buckled. Yet other men running headlong through the night trampled those on the ground, only to lose their own footing and topple.

Another sphere of wizard's fire droned past to crash down, spilling its flame like water from a burst dam. So massive was the eruption that the surge swept men away, carrying them off in a flaming current.

A huge knot of fire erupted out of the enemy line not far in front of Kahlan, headed toward the D'Haran lines. Immediately, a small sphere of blue flame roared in from her right, meeting the ponderous globe of yellow flame in midair. The collision sent a shower of fire raining down around her as she rode past. Kahlan gasped and yanked the reins left as a fat gob of the plummeting fire crashed to the ground right before them, splattering flame everywhere.

They missed the fire by inches, but she now found herself closing with the enemy soldiers at an alarming rate. Kahlan could read some of the obscene oaths on their lips. She spurred the terrified horse to the right. He turned a little but not enough to divert them from angling in toward the enemy lines.

Glowing bits of fire rained down on the men as well as the open ground. The horse was running in a panic, too frightened to take direction from Kahlan. The stench of burning leather was adding fuel to the horse's fear. She glanced down and saw a bit of fire burning on the leather armor protecting her thigh. The small but fierce flame fluttered wildly in the wind. She dared not try to brush the glowing spot off lest it then stick to her hand. She feared to imagine what it would feel like when it finally burned through the leather. She would have to endure the pain when it did; she had no choice.

Verna didn't realize what was happening. She was twisted sideways, still releasing the glass dust. Kahlan could see the plume of it carried away behind them. The long trail curved, carried by the breeze, into the enemy, past the front lines, back through the ranks of soldiers, off into the blackness. Farther back in the Order's ranks, the torches lit the cloud as it mingled with the dust churned up from the frozen ground.

An arrow nicked the horse's shoulder and skipped up into the air. A surge of men, seeing her coming, ran with wild abandon in an effort to block her way. Kahlan yanked on the reins, trying to haul the powerful horse's head to the right. In the grip

303

of terror, the horse galloped on. She felt helpless as she tried to get it to turn. It was doing no good. They were headed right toward a wall of men.

"We're getting too close!" Verna yelled in her ear.

Kahlan was too busy to answer. Her arm was shaking with the effort of pulling on the right rein, trying to turn the horse's head over and to the right, but the horse had the bit in his teeth and was stronger than she by far. Sweat trickled down her neck. She stretched her right leg back and dug her heel into the horse's right flank to turn him. The men before them brought their pikes and swords around to bear. Fighting was one thing, but not having any control and just watching her fate come at her was different.

"Kahlan! What are you doing!"

With the pressure of her heel in front of his right rear leg, she was finally forcing the horse to turn. It wasn't enough. She wasn't going to be able to divert the runaway horse. The enemy looked like a steel porcupine rushing at them.

Three strides away, the horse lowered his head.

"Good boy!" she cried.

Maybe he had a chance to clear the pikes. Kahlan took her weight off the saddle and angled forward, flattening her back. She bent her arms, giving the reins slack with her hands to either side of the horse's neck. She kept pressure on him with her lower legs, but let him have the freedom he needed.

She didn't know if it would work with the extra weight. If only the pikes were shorter. Kahlan screamed for Verna to hold on.

Wizard's fire suddenly streamed past in front of them, coming in low. The men who had rushed ahead in a line to block Kahlan's way dove to the ground. The entire line before them collapsed. The fire wailed past just over top of them, finally touching down off to Kahlan's left. The cries of a thousand men filled her ears.

The horse stretched his lowered head, getting his hocks underneath his body. At the last instant, his neck shortened and his head came up as he sprang upward, using his powerful hindquarters to launch himself. His back rounded as they sailed over the leading edge of men. Verna cried out, her arm like a hook around Kahlan's middle. They came down beyond the soldiers who had dropped flat. With her weight on the stirrups, Kahlan used her legs to absorb the shock-Verna couldn't. With the extra load, the horse nearly stumbled as it landed, but kept his balance and continued running. They were at last clear of the Order soldiers.

"What's the matter with you!" Verna yelled. "Don't do that or I won't be able to let it out evenly!"

"Sorry," Kahlan called over her shoulder.

Despite the cold wind in her face, sweat ran from her scalp. The Order soldiers seemed to fall away to their rear quarter. Giddy relief washed over her as she realized they had made it past the bulge in the Imperial Order's front lines.

In the distance behind them, a storm of fire lit the night. Zedd and Warren were showing them a good old-fashioned firefight, as Zedd had put it. It was a terrifying demonstration, if insufficient to stop an enemy as large as the Order. As the Order's gifted raced to the scene and threw up shields, it limited the death and devastation. The two wizards had bought Kahlan and Verna the time they had needed.

Kahlan heard Cara calling "Whoa!" as she galloped up close.

This time, with Cara's horse heading them off, the lathered mount rapidly came to a halt: The horse was exhausted, as was Kahlan. As they dismounted beside Cara and Sister Philippa, Verna tossed the empty bucket to the ground. Kahlan was glad

304

it was dark, so that the others couldn't see her legs trembling. She was relieved to see that the spot of fire had expended itself before burning through.

The four of them watched as the night went mad with flame, most exploding against shields of magic, yet still doing damage to anyone too close. Zedd and Warren sent forth one tumbling sphere of fiery death after another. The cries of men could be heard all along the line. The fire was being returned, reaping death in the D'Haran lines, but the Sisters were throwing up their own shields.

Still the vast enemy army advanced. At most, the deadly flames only slowed them and disrupted their orderly attack.

As the gifted on both sides gained control, they managed to nullify each other's fiery attacks. Kahlan knew that the forward D'Haran lines had no hope of holding the onrushing flood of the Order. They had no hope of even slowing them. In the moonlight, she could see them beginning to abandon their positions.

"Why isn't it working?" Kahlan whispered, half to herself. She leaned toward Verna. "Are you sure it was made properly?"

Watching the enemy's headlong rush, and in the din of battle cries, Verna didn't seem to hear the question. Kahlan checked her sword. She realized how futile it would be to try to fight. She felt Richard's sword on her back, and considered drawing it, but decided that it would be better to run. She pushed Verna, urging her to their spent horse. Cara did the same with Sister Philippa.

Before she stepped into the stirrup, Kahlan noticed the Order slowing. She saw men stumbling. Some groped with outstretched arms. Others fell.

Verna pointed. "Look!"

An endless moan of frightened agony began rising up into the night, growing in intensity. Staggering men fell over one another. Some swung their swords at an invisible enemy, hacking instead their blinded fellow soldiers.

The progress of the men at the front slowed to a crawl. Soldiers kept coming, colliding with the stalled front line. Cavalry horses panicked, bucking off riders. Spooked horses ran off in every direction, oblivious of the men they trampled. Racing wagons overturned. Confusion swept the enemy's ranks.

The advance buckled. The Imperial Order ground to a halt.

Zedd and Warren rode up and dismounted, both sweating despite the frigid night air. Kahlan gave Zedd's bony hand a squeeze.

"You two saved our necks at the end, there."

Zedd gestured to Warren. "Him, not me."

Warren shrugged. "I saw your predicament."

They all stared in wonder, watching the army gone blind.

"You did it, Verna," Kahlan said. "You and your glass saved us."

At last, she and Verna threw their arms around each other, tears of relief coursing down their cheeks.

305

CHAPTER 40

Kahlan was one of the last to cross over the pass. The valley beyond was well protected by towering rock walls around the southern half. It was a long and difficult route around those mountains if the Order had any thoughts of attacking them here. While the troops of the D'Haran Empire had no intention of letting themselves get trapped in that valley, for the time being it was a safe place.

Big old spruces filled the lap of the surrounding mountains, so they were somewhat protected from the wind, as well. Tents carpeted the forest floor. It was good to see all the campfires and smell the woodsmoke-a sign that they were safe enough for the men to have fires. The aroma of cooking filled the late-night air, too. It had been a lot of work moving the army and their equipment over the pass, and the men were hungry.

General Meiffert looked as pleased as any general would when the army he feared lost was at last safe-at least for the time being. He guided Kahlan and Cara through the darkness dotted by thousands of campfires to tents he had set up for them. Along the way, he filled them in on how everything with the army had gone, and ran through a list of what few things they had had to leave behind.

"It's going to be a cold night," General Meiffert said when they had reached the tents he had set aside for them between two towering spruce. "I had a sack of pebbles heated by a fire for you, Mother Confessor. You, too, Mistress Cara."

Kahlan thanked him before he left to see to his duties. Cara went off to go get something to eat. Kahlan told her to go ahead, that she just wanted to sleep.

Inside her tent, Kahlan found Spirit standing on a little table, the lamp hanging from the ridgepole lighting her proud pose. She paused to trace a finger down the flowing robes.

Kahlan, her teeth chattering, could hardly wait to crawl into bed and pull that sack of heated pebbles under the fur mantle with her. She thought about how cold she was, and then instead of climbing into her bed, went back outside and searched through the dark camp until she found a Sister. After following the Sister's directions, going between tents until she reached the area with the thick young trees, Kahlan found the small lean-to shelter set among the boughs for protection from the wind and weather.

She squatted down, peering inside at the bundle of blankets she could just make out in the light coming from nearby campfires.

"Holly? Are you in there?"

A little head poked out. "Mother Confessor?" The girl was shivering. "What is it? Do you need me?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Come with me please."

Holly climbed out, swaddled in a blanket. Kahlan took her little hand and walked

306

her back to her tent in silence. Holly's eyes grew big and round as Kahlan ushered in inside. Before the small table, the girl paused to stand still as a stump while she stared in wonder at Spirit.

"Like it?" Kahlan asked.

Trembling with the cold, Holly reverently ran her frail fingers down Spirit's arm. "Where ever did you get something so beautiful?"

"Richard carved it for me."

Holly finally pulled her gaze from the statue and looked up at Kahlan. "I miss Richard." Kahlan could see Holly's breath in the motionless air of the tent. "He was always nice to me. A lot of people were mean, but Richard was always nice."

Kahlan felt an unexpected stab of anguish. She hadn't expected the subject to turn to Richard.

"What was it you needed, Mother Confessor?"

Kahlan turned her thoughts away from her sorrow and smiled. "I was proud of the work you did to help save us today. I promised you that you would be warm. Tonight, you will be."

The girl's teeth were chattering. "Really?"

Kahlan laid the Sword of Truth on the far side of the bed. She stripped off some of her heavier clothing, doused the lamp, and then sat down on the straw-filled pallet. Light from nearby campfires lent a soft glow to the tent's walls.

"Come. Climb into bed with me. It's going to be very cold tonight. I need you to keep me warm."

Holly only had to consider for a second.

As Kahlan lay down on her side, she pulled Holly's back against her stomach and then drew the sack of heated pebbles up against the girl's front. Holly hugged the sack and moaned with the thrill of warmth. The satisfied moan made Kahlan smile.

For a long time, she smiled, enjoying the simple pleasure of seeing Holly warm and safe. Having the girl there, holding her close, helped Kahlan to forget all the terrible things she had seen that day.

Far up in the mountains, a single wolf sang out in a long, lonely call. The cry echoed through the valley, trailing off, to be renewed again and again with forlorn persistence.

With his sword at her back, Kahlan's thoughts turned to Richard. Thinking about him, wondering where he was and if he was safe, she silently wept herself to sleep.

--]--- The next day, snow moved down from the higher mountains to rampage across the southern regions of the Midlands. The storms raged for two days. The second night of the blizzard, Kahlan shared her tent with Holly, Valery, and Helen. They sat under blankets, ate camp stew, sang songs, told stories of princes and princesses, and slept together to keep warm.

When the snowstorm finally ended in a bleak golden sunrise, most of the taller tents had snow drifted to their eaves on their downwind side. The smaller ones were completely covered over. The men dug themselves out, looking like so many woodchucks come up out of their burrows for a peek.

Over the next several weeks, the storms continued to roll past, dumping more snow. In such weather, fighting, or even moving an army very far, was difficult.

307

Scouts reported that the Imperial Order had withdrawn a week's march back to the south.

It would be a burden to care for blinded men. Within a days walk all around the place where the special glass had been released, the D'Haran scouts reported that they had seen well over sixty thousand frozen corpses, now drifted over with the snow-blind men unable to care for themselves in the harsh conditions. The Imperial Order had probably abandoned them to their fate. A few dozen of the blind had managed to make it over the pass, looking for help, begging for mercy. Kahlan had ordered them executed.

It was hard telling the exact number blinded by Verna's special glass; it could be that there were many who did in fact retreat with the Imperial Order, brought along to perform menial tasks. It was likely, though, that the corpses reported by the scouts were the bulk of those blinded. Kahlan could imagine that Jagang might not want them in his camp, using food and supplies, reminding his men of their stinging retreat.

She knew, though, that for Jagang retreat was but a momentary setback and not a reappraisal of his objectives. The Order had men enough to shrug off the loss of the hundred thousand killed since the fighting had started. For the time being, the weather prevented Jagang from striking back.

Kahlan didn't intend to sit and wait for him. A month later, when the representative from Herjborgue arrived, she met with him immediately in the small trappers' lodge they had found up in the trees to the west side of the valley. The lodge sat under the protection of towering, ancient pines, away from the open areas where the tents were congregated. The lodge had become Kahlan's frequent quarters, and often also served as their command center.

It greatly relieved General Meiffert when Kahlan would stay in the lodge, rather than a tent. It made him feel as if the army was doing something about providing better accommodations for the Mother Confessor-the wife of Lord Rahl. Kahlan and Cara did appreciate the nights they slept in the lodge, but Kahlan didn't want anyone to think she wasn't up to the conditions the rest of them had to endure. Sometimes, she would instead have the girls sleep in the lodge along with some of the Sisters, and sometimes she insisted Verna sleep there with Holly, Valery, and Helen. It didn't take a great deal of effort to persuade the Prelate.

Kahlan greeted Representative Theriault from the land of Herjborgue, inviting him into the cozy lodge. He was accompanied by a small guard unit, who waited outside. Herjborgue was a small country. Their contribution to the war effort was in the area of their only product: wool. Kahlan had need of the man.

After Representative Theriault knelt before the Mother Confessor, receiving the traditional greeting, he at last stood and pushed his heavy hood back on his shoulders. He broke into a broad grin.

"Mother Confessor, so good to see you well."

She returned a sincere smile. "And you, Representative Theriault. Here, come over by the fire and warm yourself."

By the stone fireplace, he pulled off his gloves and held his hands before the crackling flames. He glanced to the gleaming hilt of the sword sticking up behind her shoulder. His eye was caught by Spirit standing proudly on the mantel. He stared in wonder, as did everyone who saw the proud figure.

"We heard about Lord Rahl being captured," he finally said. "Has there been any word?"

308

Kahlan shook her head. "We know they haven't harmed him, but that's about all. I know my husband; he's resourceful. I expect he will find a way to get back to help us."

The man nodded, his brow furrowed as he listened earnestly.

Cara, standing beside the table, reminded of her Lord Rahl by Kahlan's words, idly rolled her Agiel in her fingers. Kahlan could tell by the look in Cara's blue eyes, and by the way she casually let the weapon dangle once more by the small gold chain around her wrist, that the Agiel, being linked to the living Lord Rahl, still possessed its power. As long as it worked, they knew Richard was alive. That was all they knew.

The man opened his heavy traveling cloak. "How goes the war? Everyone anxiously awaits word."

"As near as we can figure, we've managed to kill over a hundred thousand of their troops."

The man gasped.-Such numbers were staggering to someone from a place as small as his homeland of Herjborgue.

"Then, they must be defeated. Have they run back to the Old World?"

Rather than meet his gaze, Kahlan stared at the logs checkering in the wavering glow of the flames. "I'm afraid that losing that many men is hardly crippling to the Imperial Order. We're taking their numbers down, but they have an army of well over ten times that many. They remain a threat, a week's march to the south of here."

Kahlan looked up to see him staring at her. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was having difficulty trying to imagine that many people. His wind-reddened face had paled considerably.

"Dear spirits . . ." he whispered. "We've heard rumors, but to learn they are true . . ." With a despondent look, he shook his head. "How is it ever going to be possible to defeat a foe of that size?"

"Seems that I remember, a number of years back, you were in Aydindril to see the Council and you had a bit of trouble after a grand dinner. That big man from Kelton-I forget his name-was boasting and speaking ill of your small land. He called you some name. Do you remember that night?-what he called you?"

Representative Theriault's eyes sparkled as he smiled.

"Puny.,,

"Puny. That was it. I guess he felt that because he was twice your size, that made him your better. I recall men clearing off a table, and the two of you arm wrestling."

"Ah, well, I was younger back then, and I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, besides."

"You won."

He laughed softly. "Not by strength. He was cocky. I was clever, perhaps, and quick-that's all."

"You won; that was the result. Those hundred thousand Order troops aren't any less dead because they outnumbered us."

The smile left his lips. "Point taken. I guess the Imperial Order ought to quit now, while they have men left. I recall how those five thousand Galean recruits you led went after that force of fifty thousand, and eliminated them." He leaned an arm on the rough-hewn mantel. "Anyway, I see your point. When you are facing superior strength, you must use your wits."

"I need your help," Kahlan told the man.

His big brown eyes reflected the firelight as they turned toward her. "Anything, Mother Confessor. If it be in my power to do, anything."

309

Kahlan bent and shoved another log onto the fire. Sparks swirled around before ascending the chimney.

"We need wool cloaks--hooded cloaks-for the men."

He considered only briefly. "Just tell me the numbers, and I will see to it. I'm sure it can be arranged."

"I'll need at least a hundred thousand-our entire force down here at present. We're expecting more men any time, so if you could add half again that number, it would go a long way to helping destroy the Order."

As he went through mental calculations, Kahlan used the poker to set the new log to the back of the fire. "I know I'm not asking for something easy."

He scratched his scalp through his thick gray hair. "You've no need of hearing how difficult it will be, that won't help you win, so let me just say that you will have them."

Representative Theriault's word was a pledge as sound as gold, and as valuable. She stood and faced him.

"And I want them made from bleached wool."

He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "Bleached wool?"

"We need to be clever, as you can understand. The Imperial Order comes from far to the south. Richard was down there, once, and told me about how the weather is very different than it is up here, in the New World. Their winters are nothing like we have. If I don't miss my bet, the Order is not familiar with winter, nor is it used to surviving, much less fighting, in such weather. Winter conditions may be difficult, but this puts it to our advantage."

Kahlan made a fist before him. "I want to harry them mercilessly. I want to use

the winter weather to make them suffer. I want to draw them out make them have to fight-in conditions they don't understand as well as we do.

"I want the hooded cloaks to help disguise our men. I want to be able to use the conditions to get in close on raids, and then disappear right before their eyes."

"They don't have gifted?"

"Yes, but they're not going to have a sorceress telling every archer where to aim his arrow."

He stroked his chin. "Yes, I see your point." He slapped the mantel as if to seal his promise. "I'll have our people begin at once. Your men will need warm mittens, too.

Kahlan smiled appreciatively. "They will be grateful. Have your people start sending the cloaks down to us as soon as they have some made. Don't wait for them all. We can start our raids with any number and add to them as you deliver more."

Representative Theriault pulled his hood up and fastened his heavy wool cloak. "Winter has just set in. The more time you have to whittle them down while you have the advantage of weather, the better. I had best be on my way at once."

Kahlan clasped arms with the man-not something the Mother Confessor typically did, but something anyone else might do in sincere appreciation of aid.

--]--- As she and Cara stood outside the door, watching the representative and his guards trudging off through the snow, Kahlan hoped the supply of white cloaks would start arriving soon, and that they would be as effective as she hoped.

"Do you really think we can press the war effectively in winter?" Cara asked.

310

Kahlan turned back to the door. "We have to."

Before she went back inside, Kahlan caught sight of a procession coming up through the trees. When they were a little closer, she saw that it was General Meiffert, on foot, leading. She was able to pick out Adie, Verna, Warren, and Zedd, all walking along beside four riders. The midday sun sparkled off the hilt of the lead rider's sword.

Kahlan gasped when she saw who it was.

Without bothering to go back inside to get her cloak or fur mantle, she raced down through the snow to great him. Cara was right on Kahlan's heels.

"Harold!" she called out as she got closer. "Oh, Harold! Are we ever glad to see you!"

It was her half brother, come from Galea. Kahlan then saw some of the other men riding behind him, and gasped again in surprise. Captain Bradley Ryan, commander of the Galean recruits she had fought with was there, and his lieutenant, Flin Hobson. She thought she recognized Sergeant Frost, in the rear. Her face hurt from grinning as she ran up to them through the deep snow.

Kahlan wanted to pull her half brother off his horse and hug him. In a Galean field-officer uniform, far more muted than their dress uniform, he looked grand on his well-bred mount. She only now fully realized how worried she had been over his late arrival.

Carrying himself like the prince he was, Harold tipped his head to her as he bowed in his saddle. He offered only a small, private smile.

"Mother Confessor. I'm gratified to find you well."

Captain Ryan was grinning, even if Prince Harold wasn't. Kahlan had fond memories of Bradley and Flin, of their bravery, courage, and heart. The fighting had been horrifying, but the company of those fine soldiers, fine young men all, was a cherished memory. They had done the impossible before, and had come to help do it again.

Standing beside his horse, Kahlan reached up for Harold's hand. "Come inside. We've a good fire going." She motioned to the captain, the lieutenant, and the sergeant. "You, too. Come inside and get warm."

Kahlan turned to the others, who didn't look nearly as happy as Kahlan thought they should. "We'll all fit. Come inside."

Prince Harold stepped down out of the stirrup. "Mother Confessor, I-"

Kahlan couldn't resist. She threw her arms around her half brother. He was a big bear of a man, much like their father, King Wyborn. "Harold, I'm so relieved to see you. How's Cyrilla?"

Cyrilla, Harold's sister and Kahlan's half sister, was a dozen years older than Kahlan. Cyrilla had been ill for ages, it seemed. When she had been captured by the Order she had been thrown into the pit with a gang of murderers and rapists. Harold had rescued her, but the abuse she suffered had left her in an incoherent state, oblivious of those around her. She regained her senses only infrequently. When she came awake, she more often than not screamed and cried uncontrollably. One of the times when she was lucid, she had asked Kahlan to promise to be the queen of Galea and keep her people safe.

Harold, wishing to remain commander of the Galean army, refused the crown. Kahlan reluctantly had acceded to his wish.

Harold's eyes shifted to the others, briefly. "Mother Confessor, we need to have a talk."

311

CHAPTER 41

At Prince Harold's instructions, Captain Ryan and his two men went to see to their troops and horses while the rest of them crowded into the small trapper's lodge. Zedd and Warren sat on a bench made of a board laid atop two log rounds. Verna and Adie sat against the opposite wall on another bench. Cara gazed out the small window. Standing near Cara, General Meiffert watched as the prince ran a finger back and forth along the front edge of the table. Kahlan folded her hands on the table before her.

"So," she began, fearing the worst, "how is Cyrilla?"

Harold smoothed the front of his coat. "The queen has . . . recovered."

"Queen . . . ?" Kahlan rose out of her chair. "Cyrilla has recovered? Harold, that's wonderful news. And she has at last taken her crown back? Even better!"

Kahlan was delighted to be relieved of the role of queen to Galea. As Mother Confessor, it was an awkward duty better served by Cyrilla. More than that, though, she was relieved to learn that her half sister had finally recovered. While the two of them were never close, they shared a mutual respect.

More than her cheer at Cyrilla's recovery, though, Kahlan felt a sense of deliverance that Harold had at last brought his troops down to join with them. She hoped he had been able to raise the hundred thousand they had previously discussed; it would be a good beginning for the army Kahlan needed to raise.

Harold licked his weather-cracked lips. By the slump in his shoulders, she was sure that the task of collecting his army had been trying, and the journey arduous. She had never seen his face looking so worn. He had a vague, empty look that reminded her of her father.

Kahlan smiled exuberantly, determined to show her appreciation. "How many troops did you bring? We could certainly use the whole hundred thousand. That would just about double what we have down here so far. The spirits know we need them."

No one was saying anything. As she looked from one person to the next, no one would meet her gaze.

Kahlan's sense of relief was sloughing away.

"Harold, how many troops did you bring?"

He ran his meaty fingers back through his long, thick, dark hair. "About a thousand."

She stared dumbly, sinking back into her chair. "A thousand?"

He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "Captain Bradley and his men. The ones you led and fought beside, before."

Kahlan could feel her face heating. "We need all your troops. Harold, what's going on?"

312

He at last met her gaze.

"Queen Cyrilla refused my plan to take our troops south. Shortly after you were there and visited her, she came out of her illness. She was herself again-full of ambition and fire. You know what she was like. She was always tireless in her advocacy for Galea." His fingers idly tapped the table. "But I'm afraid she has been changed by her infirmity. She fears the Imperial Order."

"So do I," Kahlan said with quiet bottled rage. She could feel Richard's sword pressed against the back of her shoulder. She saw Harold's eyes take it in. "Everyone in the Midlands fears the Order. That is why we need those troops."

He was nodding as she spoke. "I told her all that. I did. She said that she is Queen of Galea, and as such, she must put our land first."

"Galea has joined the D'Haran Empire!"

He opened his hands in a helpless gesture. "When she was ill, she was . . . unaware of that event taking place. She said she only gave you the crown for the safekeeping of her people, not to surrender their sovereignty." His hands dropped to his sides. "She claims you never had any such authority and refuses to abide by the agreement."

Kahlan glanced at the others in the room, sitting mute, like a panel of grim judges.

"Harold, you and I have discussed all this in the past. The Midlands is under threat." She swept her arm out. "The entire New World is threatened! We must turn back that threat, not take to defending one land at a time--or have each land try to fend for itself. If we do that, we will all fall, one at a time. We must stand together."

"I agree with you, in principle, Mother Confessor. Queen Cyrilla does not."

"Then Cyrilla is not recovered, Harold. She is still sick."

"That may be, but it is not for me to say."

Elbow on the table, Kahlan rested her forehead against her fingertips. Thoughts were screaming around inside her head, demanding that this not be happening.

"What about Jebra?" Zedd asked from the side of the room. Kahlan was relieved to hear his voice, as if reason were returning to the lunacy of what she was hearing, as if the weight of another voice would set things straight. "We left the seer there to help care for Cyrilla and to advise you. Surely, Jebra must have advised Cyrilla against such actions."

Harold hung his head again. "I'm afraid that Queen Cyrilla ordered Jebra thrown into a dungeon. Moreover, the queen gave orders that if Jebra speaks one word of her blasphemy-as Queen Cyrilla calls it-she is to have her tongue cut out."

Kahlan had to tell herself to blink. It was no longer Cyrilla's behavior that so stunned her. Her words came sparse and brittle, the naked bones of dead respect.

"Harold, why would you follow the orders of a madwoman?"

His jaw took a set, as if injured by her tone. "Mother Confessor, she is not only my sister, but my queen. I am sworn to obey my queen in order to protect the Galean people. All those men of ours out there who have been fighting with your army are also sworn to protect the people of Galea above all else. I've already given them our queen's orders. We must all return to Galea at once. I'm sorry, but that is the way it must be."

Kahlan pounded her fist on the table and shot to her feet.

"Galea stands at the head of the Callisidrin Valley! It's a gateway right up the center of the Midlands! Don't you see what a tempting route it might be for the Imperial Order? Don't you see how they might want to split the Midlands?"

313

"Of course I do, Mother Confessor."

She aimed a stiff arm, pointing at the camp beyond the lodge.

"So you just expect all those men out there to put their lives between you and the Order? You and Queen Cyrilla callously expect all those men out there to die protecting you?-while you sit back in Galea?-hoping they prevent the Order from ever reaching you?"

"Of course not, Mother Confessor."

"What's the matter with you! Don't you see that if you fight with us to halt the Order, you are protecting the people of your homeland?"

Harold licked his lip. "Mother Confessor, all you say is probably true. It is also irrelevant. I am commander of the Galean army. My entire life has been devoted to serving the people of Galea and my sovereign-first my mother and father, and then my sister. From the time I was a boy at my father's knee, I was taught to protect Galea above all else."

Kahlan did her best to control her voice. "Harold, Cyrilla is obviously still sick. If you are honestly interested in protecting your people, you must see that what you're doing is not the way to accomplish it."

"Mother Confessor, I have been charged by my queen with protecting the people of Galea. I know my duty."

"Duty?" Kahlan wiped a hand across her face. "Harold, you can't blindly follow that woman's whim. The route to life and liberty exists only through reason. She may be queen, but reason can be your only true sovereign. To fail to use reason in this, to fail to think, is intellectual anarchy."

He looked at her as if she were some poor child who didn't understand the world of adult responsibility.

"She is my queen. The queen is devoted to the people."

Kahlan drummed her fingers on the table. "What Cyrilla is, is deluded by ghosts that still haunt her. She is going to bring harm to your people. You are going to aid her in delivering your people into ruin because you wish something to be true, even though it is not. You are seeing her as she once was, not as she is now."

He shrugged. "Mother Confessor, I can understand why you think what you think, but it can change nothing. I must do as my queen commands."

Elbows on the table, Kahlan held her face in her hands for a time, trembling with anger at the insanity of what she was hearing. She finally looked up, meeting her half brother's gaze.

"Harold, Galea is part of the D'Haran Empire. Galea has a queen only at the indulgence of the Empire. Queen though she may be, even if she does not recognize the rule of the D'Haran Empire, she is still, as she always has been, subordinate to the Mother Confessor of the Midlands. As Mother Confessor, as well as the leader of the D'Haran Empire in Lord Rahl's absence, I formally terminate that indulgence. Cyrilla is now without authority and is removed from office. She is no longer the queen of anything, much less Galea.

"You are ordered to return to Ebinissia, to put Cyrilla under arrest for her own protection, to release Jebra, and to return to this army with the seer and all Galean forces except a home guard for the crown city."

"Mother Confessor, I'm sorry, but my queen has ordered-"

Kahlan slammed the flat of her hand down on the table. "Enough!"

He fell silent as Kahlan rose. With her fingertips pressed to the table, she leaned closer to him.

314

"As Mother Confessor, I am commanding you to carry out my orders at once. That is final. I will hear no more."

The room seemed gripped by the grave consequence of what was happening. Each forbidding face watched, waiting to see how it was going to go.

Harold spoke in a voice that reminded Kahlan of her father's.

"I realize that it may make no sense to you, Mother Confessor, but I must choose my duty to my people above my duty to you. Cyrilla is my sister. King Wyborn always told me to run a good army. An officer must obey his queen. My men down here are ordered by their queen to return at once to protect Galea. I am a man bound by my honor to protect my people, as ordered by my queen."

"You pompous fool. How dare you speak to me of your honor? You are sacrificing the lives of innocent people to your delusions of honor. Honor is honesty to what is, not blind duty to what you wish to be. You have no honor, Harold."

Kahlan sank into 'her chair. She looked past him, to the side, staring into the hearth, into the flames.

"I have given you my orders. Do you refuse to obey them?"

"I must refuse, Mother Confessor. Let me say only that it is not out of malice."

"Harold," she said in a flat tone without looking at him, "you are committing treason."

"I realize that you may see it that way, Mother Confessor."

"Oh, I do. I do indeed. Treason to your people, treason to the Midlands, treason to our D'Haran union against the Imperial Order, and treason against the Mother Confessor. What do you suppose I ought to do about it?"

"I would expect that if you feel so strongly, you would have me put to death, Mother Confessor."

She looked up at him. "If you have enough sense to realize that, then what good will it do for you to stick to the orders of a madwoman? It will only bring your death, and then you will not be able to carry out your queen's orders. Staying to your course can only leave your people without your aid, which is what you claim to put above all else. Why not simply do the right thing and help us to help your people? Since you refuse, you have shown yourself, in truth, to be without common sense, much less honor."

His eyes turned to her, filled with smoldering anger. The knuckles of his fists went white.

"I will be heard, now, Mother Confessor. If I stand by my honor, even if it costs me my life, it will be honoring my family, my sister, my queen, and my homeland. A homeland forged by my father, King Wyborn, and my mother, Queen Bernadine. When I was young, my father, my sovereign king, was taken from my mother, my family, and my homeland of Galea, by the Confessors, taken by a Confessor's power for their selfish desire of a husband for your mother, for her selfish desire for a strong man to father her a child-you. Now, you, Mother Confessor-the daughter of that theft of that beloved man from us when I was but a boy-you would take me from my sister? 'hake her, too, from our land? Take me from my duty to serve my queen, my land, and above all my people? The last duty my father charged me with before your mother took him from us and destroyed him for no reason but that he was good and she wanted him, was that I should always honor my duty to my sister and my land. I will carry out my father's last charge to me, even if you think it madness."

Kahlan stared at him in cold shock.

315

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Harold."

His face had aged and hardened. "I know that you are not responsible for all that happened before you came to be, and I will always love that part of you that is my father, but I am still the one who must live with it all. Now I must be true to myself, to my own feelings."

"Your feelings," she repeated.

"Yes, Mother Confessor. Those are my feelings, and I must put my faith in them."

Kahlan swallowed past the painful constriction in her throat. Her fingers, lying limply on the table before her, tingled.

"Faith and feelings. Harold, you are as mad as your sister."

She drew herself up straight and folded her hands. She shared a last look with her half brother, a man she had never known, except in name, as she pronounced sentence on him.

"Beginning at sunrise tomorrow, the D'Haran Empire and Galea are at war. After sunrise tomorrow, if you are seen by me or any of our men, you will be put to death for the crime of treason.

"I will not allow those brave men out there to die for traitors. The Imperial Order will, in all likelihood, turn north up the Callisidrin Valley. You will be alone. They will butcher every man in your army, just as they butchered the people of Ebinissia. Jagang will give your sister to his men, as a whore.

"It will be by your doing, Harold, for refusing to use your ability to think, and instead following your feelings and faith in what does not exist."

Harold, hands clasped behind his back, chin held up, said nothing as Kahlan continued.

"Tell Cyrilla that she had better hope for the fate I have just described, because if the Order does not come through Galea, I will. I have promised no mercy to the Order. Galea's treason condemns her to the same fate as the Order. If the Order does not get Cyrilla, then I swear I will, and when I get her, I am going to take her back to Aydindril and I'm going to personally throw her back down into that pit from which you rescued her, and I am going to leave her down there with every criminal brute I can find for as long as she lives."

Harold's jaw dropped. "Mother Confessor . . . you wouldn't."

Kahlan's eyes told him otherwise. "You be sure to tell Cyrilla what's in store for her. Jebra probably tried to tell her, and was thrown in a dungeon for it. Cyrilla is refusing to see the open pit before her, and you are walking into it with her. Worse, you are taking your innocent people with you."

Kahlan drew her royal Galean sword. She grasped either end in a hand. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the flat of the blade against her knee. The steel bent, then finally snapped with a loud report. She tossed the broken blade on the floor at his feet.

"Now get out of my sight."

He turned to leave, but before he took a step, Zedd stood, holding out a hand as if to ask him to remain where he was.

"Mother Confessor," Zedd said, choosing his words carefully. "I believe you are letting your emotions get in the way."

Harold gestured to Kahlan, relieved to hear Zedd's intercession. "Tell her, Wizard Zorander. Tell her."

Kahlan couldn't believe her ears. She remained where she was, staring into

316

Zedd's hazel eyes. "Then would you mind explaining my error of emotion, First Wizard?"

Zedd glanced at Harold and then back to Kahlan. "Mother Confessor, Queen Cyrilla is obviously deranged. Prince Harold is not only doing her a disservice, but enabling her to bring only the specter of death to her people. If he chose the side of reason, he would be protecting his people, and honoring his sister's past admirable service when she was of sound mind.

"Instead, he has betrayed his duty to his people by embracing what he wishes to be true about her instead of facing what is true. In this way, he is embracing death, and in this case, embracing death for his people, too.

"Prince Harold has been justly found guilty of treason. Your emotions for him

are interfering with your judgment. Obviously, he is now a danger to our cause, to

the lives of our people, and to the lives of his own people. He cannot be allowed to

leave." Harold looked thunderstruck. "But Zedd. . ."

Zedd's hazel eyes, too, were a terrible pronouncement of guilt. He waited, as if challenging the man to further prove his treason. Harold's mouth moved, but he could offer no words.

"Does anyone disagree with me?" Zedd asked.

He looked at Adie. She shook her head. Verna likewise shook her head. Warren stared at Harold for a moment, then shook his head.

Harold's expression turned indignant. "I'm not going to stand for this. The Mother Confessor has given me until dawn to withdraw. You must honor her sentence."

He took two strides toward the door, but then paused, clutching his chest. Twisting slowly as he started to sink, his eyes rolling up in his head. His legs folded and he crashed to the floor.

Kahlan sat stunned. No one moved or said anything. General Meiffert went down on one knee beside the body, checking Prince Harold for breath or pulse. The general looked up at Kahlan and shook his head.

She passed her gaze from Zedd, to Adie, to Verna, to Warren. None revealed anything in their expression.

Kahlan stood and spoke softly. "I don't ever want to know which one of you did this. I'm not saying you were wrong . . . I just don't want to know."

The four gifted people nodded.

At the door, Kahlan stood in the bright sunlight a moment, feeling the cold air on her face, searching, until she saw Captain Ryan leaning against a stout young maple tree. He stood at attention as she strode out to him through the snow.

"Bradley, did Prince Harold tell you why he was coming here?"

Calling him by his given name, rather than his rank, changed the nature of the question. His rigid posture slackened.

"Yes, Mother Confessor. He said he had to tell you that he had been ordered back by his queen to defend Galea, and that he was further ordered to bring his men serving with you back to Galea with him."

"Then what are you doing here? Why did you and your men come along, if he was to take everyone back?"

He lifted his square jaw and looked at her with clear blue eyes. "Because we deserted, Mother Confessor."

317

"You what?"

"Prince Harold gave me his orders, as I just reported them. I told him that it was wrong, and could only harm our people. He said it was not for me to decide such things. He said it was not for me to think, but to follow orders.

"I've fought with you, Mother Confessor. I believe I know you better than Prince Harold does-I know you are devoted to protecting the lives of the people of the Midlands. I told him that what Cyrilla was doing was wrong. He was angry, and said it was my duty to follow my orders.

"I told him that, in that case, I was deserting the Galean army and was going to stand with you, instead. I thought he was going to have me put to death for disobeying him, but he would have had to put all thousand of us to death because all the men felt the same way. A good many came forward to tell him so. The fire seemed to go out of him, then, and he let us ride down here with him.

"I hope you aren't angry with us, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan couldn't force herself to be the Mother Confessor at that moment. She put her arms around him.

"Thank you, Bradley."

She gripped his shoulders and smiled at him through her watery vision. "You used your head. I couldn't be angry with that."

"You told us once we were a badger trying to swallow an ox whole. Looks to me you've taken to trying to do the same thing. If there ever was a badger who could swallow an ox whole, it would be you, Mother Confessor, but I guess we wouldn't want you to try it without us to help you do it."

They turned then and saw General Meiffert directing some of his men. They were carrying Prince Harold's limp body out of the lodge, holding him by the shoulders and feet. His hands dragged through the snow.

"I figured this wasn't going to come to any good end," the young captain said. "Ever since Cyrilla was hurt, Prince Harold just never seemed himself. I always loved the man. It hurt me to have to desert him. But he just wasn't making sense anymore."

Kahlan put a comforting hand on his shoulder as they watched the body being carried away.

"I'm sorry, Bradley. Like you, I always thought highly of him. I guess seeing his sister and his queen so long held in the grip of that kind of sickness just brought him to his wits' end. Try to keep your good memories of him."

"I will, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan changed the subject. "I'll need one of your men to take a message to Cyrilla. I was going to have Harold take it, but now we'll need a messenger."

"I will see to it, Mother Confessor."

She only then realized how cold it was outside, and that she didn't have a cloak. As the captain went to get his men quartered and to pick out a man to act as a messenger, Kahlan went back inside the lodge.

Cara was putting more wood on the hearth. Verna and Adie had gone. Warren was selecting a rolled map from the basket of maps and diagrams in the corner.

As he was leaving; Kahlan caught Warren's arm. She looked into the wizard's blue eyes, knowing they were much older than they appeared. Richard had always said that Warren was one of the smartest people he had ever met. Besides that, Warren's true talent was said to lie in the area of prophecy.

"Warren, are we all going to die in this mad war?"

318

His face softened with a shy but impish grin. "I thought you didn't believe in prophecy, Kahlan."

She released his arm. "I guess I don't. Never mind."

Cara, leaving to find some more firewood, followed Warren out. Kahlan warmed herself before the hearth as she stared at Spirit standing on the mantel. Zedd rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"What you had to say to Harold about using your mind, about reason, was very wise, Kahlan. You were right."

Her fingers touched the buttery smooth walnut robes of Spirit. "It was what Richard said, when he was telling me what he had finally come to understand about what he had to do. He said the only sovereign he could allow to rule him was reason."

"Richard said that? Those were his very words?"

Kahlan nodded as she gazed at Spirit. "He said the first law of reason is that what exists, exists; what is, is, and that from this irreducible, bedrock principle, all knowledge is built. He said that was the foundation from which life is embraced.

"He said thinking is a choice, and that wishes and whims are not facts, nor are they a means to discover them. I guess Harold proved the point. Richard said reason is our only way of grasping reality-that it's our basic tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking-to reject reason-but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to see."

She listened to the fire crackling at her feet as she let her gaze wander over the lines of the figure he had carved for her. When she heard nothing from Zedd, she looked over her shoulder. He was staring into the flames, a tear running down his cheek.

"Zedd, what's wrong?"

"The boy figured it out himself." The old wizard's voice was the uneasy sum of loneliness and quiet pride. "He understands it-he interpreted it perfectly. He even came to it on his own, by applying it."

"Came to what?"

"The most important rule there is, the Wizard's Sixth Rule: the only sovereign you can allow to rule you is reason."

Reflections of the firelight danced in his hazel eyes. "The Sixth Rule is the hub upon which all rules turn. It is not only the most important rule, but the simplest. Nonetheless, it is the one most often ignored and violated, and by far the most despised. It must be wielded in spite of the ceaseless, howling protests of the wicked.

"Misery, iniquity, and utter destruction lurk in the shadows outside its full light, where half-truths snare the faithful disciples, the deeply feeling believers, the selfless followers.

"Faith and feelings are the warm marrow of evil. Unlike reason, faith and feelings provide no boundary to limit any delusion, any whim. They are a virulent poison, giving the numbing illusion of moral sanction to every depravity ever hatched.

"Faith and feelings are the darkness to reason's light.

"Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life is wholly embraced through reason, through this rule. In rejecting it, in rejecting reason, one embraces death."

319

By the next morning, about half of the Galean force had vanished, returning to their homeland and queen as ordered by Prince Harold before his death. The rest, like Captain Ryan and his young soldiers, remained loyal to the D'Haran Empire.

Lieutenant Leiden, the former general, and his entire force of Keltish troops had also departed by morning. He left Kahlan a letter, in it saying that with Galea choosing to break with the D'Haran Empire, he had to return to help protect Kelton, as surely the selfish actions of the Galeans meant the Order would be more likely to come up the Kern River Valley and threaten Kelton. He wrote that he hoped the Mother Confessor would realize how grave was the danger to Kelton, and understand that it was not his intention to desert her or the D'Haran Empire, but simply to help protect his people.

Kahlan knew of the men leaving; General Meiffert and Warren had come to tell her. She had expected it, and had been watching. She told General Meiffert to allow them to leave if they wished. War in their camp could come to no good end. The morale of the remaining men was boosted by a sense of being on the right side, and of doing the right thing.

That afternoon, as she was drafting an urgent letter to General Baldwin, commander of all Keltish forces, General Meiffert and Captain Ryan came to see her. After listening to their plan, she granted Captain Ryan permission to go with a like number of General Meiffert's handpicked D'Haran special forces to conduct raids on the Imperial Order force. Warren and six Sisters were sent to accompany them.

With the Imperial Order having moved so far back to the south, Kahlan needed information on what they were doing and what shape their force was in. More than that, though, with the foul weather in their favor, she wanted to keep pressure on the enemy. Captain Bradley Ryan and his band of nearly a thousand were experienced mountain fighters and had grown up in just such harsh conditions. Kahlan had fought beside the captain and his young Galean soldiers, and had helped train them in the ways of fighting a vastly superior force. If only the enemy force did not number over a million . . .

General Meiffert's special forces, which, until Kahlan had promoted him, he had ably commanded, were now led by Captain Zimmer, a young, square jawed, bullnecked D'Haran with an infectious smile. They were everything Captain Ryan's young men were, tripled: experienced, businesslike under stress, tireless, fearless, and coolly efficient at killing. What made most soldiers blanch made them grin.

They preferred fighting just such as this, where they were free of massive battlefield tactics and could instead use their special skills. They treasured being let off the leash to do what they did best. Rather than check them, Kahlan gave them a free hand.

Each of those D'Harans collected enemy ears.

They felt a great fidelity to Kahlan, in part because she didn't try to rein them in and integrate them into the larger army, and, perhaps more so, because when they returned from missions, she always asked to see their strings of ears. They relished being appreciated.

Kahlan intended to later send them to collect Galean ears.

320

CHAPTER 42

Kahlan glanced over her shoulder at the Prelate bent over the map basket in the corner. It had been almost a full phase of the moon since Warren had left on the mission with captains Ryan and Zimmer. Although it was difficult to judge accurately just how long such missions would last, they should have been back by now. Kahlan knew all too well the kind of worry that had to be churning beneath the woman's no-nonsense exterior.

"Verna," Kahlan asked as she rubbed her arms, "on your way past, could you throw some more wood on the fire, please?"

Cara hopped down off her stool, where she was perched, watching over Kahlan's shoulder. "I'll do it."

Verna pulled a map free and, on her way back to the table, thanked Cara. "Here it is, Zedd. I think this better shows the area you're talking about."

Zedd unfurled the new map over the top of the one already laid out on the table before Kahlan. It was a larger scale, giving a more detailed look at the southern regions of the Midlands.

"Yes," Zedd drawled as he peered at the new map. "See here?" He tapped the Drun River. "See how narrow the lowlands are down south, through here? That's what I was talking about. Rough country, with cliffs in places hemming the river. That's why I don't think they would try to go up the Drun Valley."

"I suppose you're right," Verna said.

"Besides"-Kahlan waggled a finger over the area to the north on the first map"up this way is mostly only Nicobarese. They are rather isolated, and so a tempting target, but they aren't a wealthy land. The plunder and trade goods would be slim. The Order has much more opportunity for conquest if they stay over here. Besides, can you see how difficult it would be for them to get their army back over the Rang'Shada mountains, if they went up the Drun? Strategically, it wouldn't make as much sense for them to go up that way."

Verna idly twiddled with a button on her blue dress as she studied the map. "Yes . . . I see what you mean."

"But your point is well taken," Kahlan said. "It wouldn't be a bad idea if you sent a Sister or two to watch that area; just because it doesn't make as much logistic sense, that doesn't mean Jagang wouldn't try it. Come spring, he's bound to move on us. We wouldn't want to be surprised to find the Imperial Order storming in the back door to Aydindril."

Cara answered the knock at the door. It was a head scout named Hayes. Kahlan stood when she saw through the open door and nearby trees that Captain Ryan was also making his way toward the lodge.

Hayes saluted with a fist to his heart.

321

"Glad to see you back, Corporal Hayes," Kahlan said.

"Thank you, Mother Confessor. It's good to be back."

He looked like he could use a meal. After Captain Ryan rushed in through the door, Cara pushed it shut against the blowing snow. Hayes stepped to the side, out of the way of the captain.

Kahlan was relieved to see the young Galean officer. "How did everything go, Captain? How is everyone?"

He pulled off his scarf and wool hat as he caught his breath; Verna looked to be holding hers.

"Good," the captain said. "We did well. The Sisters were able to heal some of our wounded. Some needed to be transported for a ways before the Sisters could see to them. That slowed us. We had a few losses, but not as many as we feared. Warren was a great help."

"Where is Warren?" Zedd asked.

As if bidden by his name, Warren came in through the door, escorted by a swirling gust of snow. Kahlan squinted at the slash of bright light until the door was pushed shut once more. She caught the look on Verna's face, and recalled how lighthearted she always felt to see Richard back safely when they had been separated. Warren casually kissed Verna on the cheek with a quick peck. Kahlan noticed the look they shared, even if no one else did. She was happy for them, but still, the reminder was like a jab at the pain of her helpless heartache and worry over Richard.

"Did you tell them?" Warren asked, unbuttoning his cloak.

"No," Captain Ryan said. "We haven't had a chance yet."

Zedd's brow drew down. "Tell us what?"

Warren heaved a sigh. "Well, Verna's special glass worked better than we thought it had. We captured several men and questioned them at length. The ones we saw dead in the valley were only the ones who died at first."

Verna helped Warren shed his heavy, snow-crusted cloak. She put it on the floor by the fire, where Captain Ryan had laid his brown coat to dry.

"It seems," Warren went on, "that there were a great many-maybe another sixty, seventy thousand-who didn't go blind, but who lost the sight in one eye, or have impaired vision. The Order couldn't very well abandon them, because they can still see well enough to stay with the rest, but more important, it's hoped that maybe those men will heal, and regain full use of their sight-and their ability to fight."

"Not likely," Verna said.

"I don't think so, either," Warren said, "but that's what they are thinking, anyway. Another goodly number, maybe twenty five or thirty thousand, are sick---their eyes and noses red and horribly infected."

Verna nodded. "The glass will do that."

"Then some more, maybe half that number, are having breathing difficulty."

"So," Kahlan said, "with those killed and those injured enough to keep them from being effective fighters, that makes somewhere near one hundred fifty thousand put out of the way by the glass dust. Quite an accomplishment, Verna."

Verna looked as pleased as Kahlan. "It was worth that horse ride scaring the wits out of me. It wouldn't have worked had you not thought of doing it that way."

"What kind of success did you have, Captain?" Cara asked as she came to stand behind Kahlan.,

"Captain Zimmer and I had the kind of success we hoped for. I'd guess we took out maybe ten thousand in the time we were down there."

322

Zedd let out a slow whistle. "Pretty heavy fighting."

"Not really. Not the way the Mother Confessor taught us to do it, and not the way Captain Zimmer works, either. Mostly we eliminate the enemy as efficiently as possible, and try to keep from having to fight at all. If you slit a man's throat in his sleep, you can accomplish a lot more, and you're less likely to get hurt yourself."

Kahlan smiled. "I'm glad you were such a good student."

Captain Ryan lifted a thumb. "Warren and the Sisters were a great help at getting us where we needed to be without being discovered. Any word about the white cloaks, yet? We could really use them. I can tell you for a fact that they would have enabled us to do more."

"We just got in our first load the day before yesterday," Kahlan told him. "More than enough for your men and Captain Zimmer's. We'll have more within a few days."

Captain Ryan rubbed his hands, warming his fingers. "Captain Zimmer will be pleased."

Zedd gestured to the south. "Did you find out why they withdrew so far back over ground they'd taken?"

Warren nodded. "From the men we questioned, we found out that they have fever going through their camp. Nothing we did, just your regular fever that happens in such crowded camp conditions in the field. But they've lost tens of thousands of men to the fever. They wanted to withdraw to put some distance between us, give themselves some breathing room. They aren't concerned about being able to push us out of their way when they wish."

That made sense. With their numbers, it was only natural for them to be confident, even cavalier, about dealing with any opposition. Kahlan couldn't understand why Warren and Captain Ryan looked so downhearted. She sensed that, despite their good news, there was something amiss.

"Dear spirits," Kahlan said, trying to give them some cheer. "Their numbers are dwindling away like snow beside the hearth. This is better than-"

Warren held up a hand. "I asked Hayes, here, to come and give you his report firsthand. I think you had better hear him out."

Kahlan motioned the man to come forward. He stepped smartly up to her table and snapped to attention.

"Let's hear what you have to report, Corporal Hayes."

His face looked chalky, and despite the cold, he was sweating.

"Mother Confessor, my scout team was down to the southeast, watching the routes in from the wilds, and watching, too in case the Order tried to swing wide around us. Well, I guess the short of it is, we spotted a column making its way west to resupply and reinforce the Order."

"They're a big army," Kahlan said. "They would have supplies sent from their homeland to augment what they can get as spoils. A supply column would have men guarding them."

"I followed them for a week, just to get an accurate count."

"How many," Kahlan asked.

"Well over a quarter million, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan's flesh tingled as if icy needles were dancing over it.

"How many?" Verna asked.

"At least two hundred and fifty thousand men at arms, plus drivers and civilians with the supplies."

323

Everything they had worked for, all the sacrifices, all the struggle to whittle down the Imperial Order, had just been nullified. Worse than nullified, their work had been erased, and nearly that many more had been added to the force the enemy had started with.

"Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered, "how many men does the Old World have to throw at us?"

When she met Warren's gaze, she knew that this number, even, was hardly surprising to him.

Warren gestured to the scout. "Hayes saw only the first group. The men we captured told us about the reinforcements. We weren't sure they were telling us the truth-we thought they might be trying to spook us-but then we met up with Corporal Hayes, on his way back. We did some further questioning and scoutingthat's why we were delayed in returning."

"Another quarter million . . ." Kahlan's words trailed off. It all seemed so hopeless.

Warren cleared his throat. "That is just the first column of fresh troops. More are coming."

Kahlan went to the hearth and warmed her hands as she stared into the flames. She was standing beneath the statue Richard had carved for her, to make her feel better. Kahlan wished that at that moment she could recall the defiant feeling Spirit portrayed. It felt as if she could only contemplate death.

--]--- The news of the Imperial Order reinforcements, just as the news of departure of the Galeans and Keltans, spread through the camp faster than a storm wind. Kahlan, Zedd, Warren, Verna, Adie, General Meiffert, and all the rest of the officers held nothing back from the men. Those men were risking their lives daily and had a right to the truth. If Kahlan was passing through the camp, and a soldier was brave enough to ask her, she told him what she knew. She tried to give them confidence, too, but she didn't lie to them.

The men, having struggled for so long, were beyond fear. The bleak mood was a palpable pall smothering the spark of life out of them. They went about their tasks as if numb, accepting their fate, which now seemed sealed, resigned to the inevitable. The New World offered no shelter, no safe place, nowhere to hide from the boundless menace of the Imperial Order.

Kahlan showed the soldiers a determined face. She had no choice. Captain Ryan and his men, having been through such despair before, were less troubled by the news. They couldn't die; they were already dead. Along with Kahlan, the young Galeans had long ago taken an oath of the dead, and could only be returned to life when the Order was destroyed.

None of it mattered much to Captain Zimmer and his men. They knew what needed to be done, and they simply kept at it. Each of them now had multiple strings of ears. They began new strings at one hundred. It was a matter of honor to them that they kept only the right ear, so no two ears could be from the same man.

Representative Theriault of Herjborgue was as good as his word. The white wool cloaks, hats, and mittens arrived weekly, helping hide the men who regularly went on missions, while the weather was in their favor, to attack the Imperial Order. With the sickness in the Order's camp leaving so many of them weak, along with so

324

many of the enemy having impaired vision, those missions were extraordinarily successful. Troops wearing the concealing cloaks were also sent to lie in wait and intercept any supply trains, hoping to neutralize the reinforcements before they could join with the enemy's main force.

Still, the attacks were little more than an annoyance to the Order.

Kahlan, after a meeting with a group just returned, found Zedd alone in the lodge, looking over the latest information that had been added to the maps.

"Good fortune," she said when he looked up, watching as she removed her fur mantle. "The men who just got in had few casualties, and they caught a large group out on patrol. They were able to cut them off and take them all out, including one of Jagang's Sisters."

"Then why the long face?"

She could only lift her hands in a forsaken gesture of futility.

"Try not to be so disheartened," Zedd told her. "Despair is often war's handmaiden. I can't tell you how many years it was, back when I was young, that everyone fighting for their lives in that war back then thought that it was only a matter of time until we were crushed. We went on to win."

"I know, Zedd. I know." Kahlan rubbed at the chill in her hands. She almost hated to say it, but she finally did. "Richard wouldn't come to lead the army because he said that the way things stand now, we can't win. He said whether or not we fight the Order, the world will fall under its shadow, and if we fight, it will only result in more death-that our side will be destroyed, the Order would still rule the world, and any chance for winning in the future would be lost."

Zedd peered at her with one eye. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Richard said we can't win, but, dear spirits, I can't let myself believe that. I would rather die fighting to be free, to help keep my people free, than to live the death of a slave. Yet, I know I'm violating Richard's wishes, his advice, and his orders. I gave him my word .... I feel as if I'm treading the quicksand of betrayal, and taking everyone with me."

She searched his face for some sign that Richard might have been wrong. "You said that he had figured out the Wizard's Sixth Rule on his own-that we must use our minds to see the reality of the way things are. I had hopes. I thought he had to be wrong about the futility of this war, but now. . ."

Zedd smiled to himself, as if finding fancy in something she saw as only horrifying.

"This is going to be a long war. It is far from beyond hope, much less decided. This is the agony of leadership in such a struggle-the doubts, the fears, the feelings of hopelessness. Those are feelings-not necessarily reality. Not yet. We have much yet to bring to bear.

"Richard said what he believed based on the way matters stood at the time he said them. Who is to say that the people are not now prepared to prove themselves to him? Prove themselves ready to reject the Order? Perhaps what Richard needed in order for him to commit to the battle, has already come about."

"But I know how strongly he warned me against joining this battle. He meant what he said. Still . . . I don't have Richard's strength, the strength to turn my back and let it happen." Kahlan gestured to her inkstand on the table. "I've sent letters asking that more troops be sent down here."

He smiled again, as if to say that proved it could be done.

"It will take continual effort to grind down the enemy's numbers. I think we

325

have yet to deal the Order a truly serious blow, but we will. The Sisters and I will come up with something. You never know in matters of this kind. It could be that we will suddenly do something that will send them reeling."

Kahlan smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Thanks, Zedd. I'm so thankful to have you with us." Her gaze wandered to Spirit, standing proudly above the hearth. She stepped over to the mantel, as if to an altar that held the sacred carving. "Dear spirits, I miss him."

It was a question without the words, hoping he would surprise her with something that he had thought of to help get Richard back.

"I know, dear one. I miss him, too. He's alive-that's the most important thing."

Kahlan could only nod.

Zedd clapped his hands together, as if taken with a gleeful thought. "What we need, more than anything, is something to get everyone's mind off of the task at hand for a while. Something to give them a reason to cheer together for a while. It would do them more good than anything."

Kahlan frowned over her shoulder. "Like what? You mean some kind of game, or something?"

His face was all screwed up in musing. "I don't know. Something happy. Something to show them that the Order can't stop us from living our lives. Can't stop us from the enjoyment of life-of what life is really all about." He stroked a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I can't really think of-"

Just then, Warren strode in. "Just got a report from over in the Drun Valley. Our lucky day-no activity, as we expected."

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still holding the door lever, looking from Kahlan to Zedd and back again.

"What's the matter? What's going on? Why are you two looking at me like that?"

Verna came up behind Warren and gave him a shove into the lodge. "Go on, go on, get in there. Close the door. What's the matter with you? It's freezing out there."

Verna huffed and shut the door herself. When she turned around and saw Zedd and Kahlan, she backed a step.

"Vema, Warren," Zedd said in a honeyed voice, "come on in, won't you?"

Verna scowled. "What are you two scheming and grinning at?"

"Well," Zedd drawled as he winked at Kahlan, "the Mother Confessor and I were just discussing the big event."

Verna's scowl darkened as she leaned in. "What big event? I've heard nothing about any big event."

Even Warren, rarely given to scowling, was scowling now. "That's right. What big event?"

"Your wedding," Zedd said.

Both Verna and Warren's scowls evaporated as they straightened. They were overcome with surprised, silly, radiant grins.

"Really?" Warren asked.

"Really?" Verna asked.

"Yes, really," Kahlan said.

326

CHAPTER 43

It took more than two weeks to prepare for Verna and Warren's wedding. It wasn't that it couldn't have been done more quickly, but rather, as Zedd had explained to Kahlan, he wanted-to "drag out the whole affair." He wanted to give everyone ample time to ponder it and to dream up lavish doings; time to organize, to make decorations, to cook special foods, to get the camp ready for a grand party; time to have a stretch where everyone could gossip about it as they eagerly looked forward to the big event.

The soldiers, at first merely pleased, soon got caught up in the spirit of the occasion. It became a grand diversion.

They all liked Warren. He was the sort of man that everyone felt a little sorry for, a bit protective of-the awkward shy type. Most didn't have the foggiest understanding of many of the things he babbled about. They thought that he just wasn't the type who would ever win a woman. That he had, to them seemingly against all odds, gave the men an inner pride that he was one of theirs, and he had done it: he'd won a woman's heart. It gave them hope that they might one day have a wedding, a wife, and a family, even if they were afraid that they, too, were often awkward and shy.

The men even openly expressed happiness for Verna. She was a woman they respected, but had never exactly felt warmly toward. Their bold well-wishes flummoxed her.

The entire camp was caught up in the spirit of the event even more than Kahlan had hoped. After a brief pause in the beginning, while it sank in, the men, so weary not only of fighting against such odds, the loss of friends, and being in the field away from their homes and loved ones for so long, but also the harsh, difficult, dreary weather, took to the diversion with gusto.

A large central area was cleared-tents moved, and the area cleaned of snow down to the bare ground. At the head of the cleared area, they built a platform-laid across anchored supply wagonsatop which the wedding was to take place. The platform was needed so that the men would have a better chance to see the ceremony. A dance area was set aside and those men with musical instruments, and not out on duty, spent night and day practicing. A choir was formed and went off to a secluded ravine to rehearse. Wherever Kahlan went, she could hear pipes and drums, or the piercing notes of a shawm, or the melodic chords of strings. Men came to fear playing off-key more than they feared the Imperial Order.

With over a hundred Sisters available, it was suggested that there could be dancing after the ceremony. The Sisters liked the idea, until they started doing the math and realized how many men there were to each woman, and how much dancing they would be doing. Still, they were titillated at the prospect of having attention lavished

327

on them at a dance, and approved the idea. Women centuries old were blushing like girls again at all the requests from men in their teens and twenties for the promise of a turn with them at the wedding dance.

As the wedding approached the men made streets, of sorts, in a winding course through the camp, so that after the ceremony, the wedding party could pass in review through the entire camp. All the men wanted a chance to be a part in greeting the newly married couple and wishing them well.

Kahlan had the idea that, after the wedding, Warren and Verna should have the lodge. It was to be her wedding gift to them, so, for the most part, she kept it a secret. Kahlan had Cara direct the public pretense of having a tent set aside and reserved for the newly married couple. Cara moved Verna's things in the tent, and freshened it up with herbs and frozen sprigs with wild berries. The diversion worked; Verna believed the tent was to be hers and Warren's, and wouldn't let him into it until after they were married.

The day of the wedding dawned with sparkling blue skies, and wasn't so cold that people were likely to get frostbite. The fresh snow of the day before was quickly cleared out of the central area so that the festivities could take place without the Sisters getting snow down their boots as they danced. Some of the Sisters came out to inspect the dance floor, sauntering around, giving the men a look at who they might get to have a turn with-if they were lucky. It was all done with much humor and good cheer.

While Verna spent the early afternoon in her tent, submitting to having her hair fussed over, her face painted, and her wedding dress tended to by a gaggle of Sisters, Kahlan was finally able to have the secrecy she needed in order to decorate the lodge. Inside, she secured fragrant, feathery, balsam boughs to a cord and draped it in swags around the top of every wall. She tied red berries-as that was all she could come by-into the boughs to give them some color.

One of the Sisters had given Kahlan some plain weave fabric that Kahlan had made into a curtain for the window. She had worked on it when she retired to the lodge at night, stitching designs to give the simple material a lacy look. She kept it under her bed so that when they came in to go over battlefield strategy, Verna and Warren wouldn't know what she was doing. Kahlan was finally able to put the scented candles, donated by different Sisters as gifts, all around the room, and at last hang the curtain on a straight limb she stripped of bark.

The one thing Kahlan wouldn't leave to brighten the lodge for the newly wedded couple was Spirit. That, she would take to her new tent.

As Kahlan was making up the bed with fresh bedding, Cara came in with an armload of something blue.

Kahlan folded the blanket under the foot of the straw-filled mattress as she watched Cara shut the door.

"What have you got there?"

"You won't believe it," Cara said with a grin. "Wide blue silk ribbon. The Sisters have Verna tied to a chair while they're fussing over her, and Zedd has Warren off doing something, so I thought you and I could use the ribbon to decorate the place a little. Drape it around. Make it look pretty." She pointed. "Like up there-we could wind it around the balsam you hung to give it a fancy look."

Kahlan blinked in surprise. "What a good idea."

She didn't know what was more astonishing, actually seeing Cara with blue silk ribbon, or hearing her say "decorate" and "pretty" in the same breath. She smiled

328

to herself, happy to have heard such a thing. Zedd was more of a wizard than he knew.

Kahlan and Cara each stood on a log round, working their way along the wall as they wove the ribbon through and around the swagged balsam boughs. It was so beautiful seeing the first wall completed that Kahlan couldn't stop gazing and grinning. They started in on the second wall, opposite the door, using extra ribbon for best effect when Verna and Warren first entered and saw their new place.

"Where did you ever get all this ribbon, away?" Kahlan asked around a mouthful of pins.

"Benjamin got it for me." Cara chuckled as she threaded the ribbon around the cord. "Can you believe it? He made me promise not to ask him where he got it from."

Kahlan took the pins from her mouth. "Who?"

"Who what?" Cara mumbled before she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth while wiggling a pin into a tight place.

"Who did you say got you the ribbon?"

Cara lifted another length of blue silk to the ceiling. "General Meiffert. I don't have a clue where he-"

"You said Benjamin."

Cara lowered the ribbon and stared at Kahlan. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You said Benjamin."

"I said General Meiffert. You only thought-"

"I never knew that General Meiffert's first name was Benjamin."

"Well..."

"Is `Benjamin' General Meiffert's first name?"

Had Cara been wearing her red leather, her face would have matched it. As it was, her dark scowl matched the brown leather she had on.

"You know it is."

A smile grew on Kahlan's lips. "I do now."

--]--- Kahlan wore her white Mother Confessor's dress. She was a bit surprised to notice that it fit a little loosely, but all things considered, she supposed it was to be expected. Because of the cold, she also wore the wolf fur mantle Richard had made for her, but draped it around her shoulders more like a stole. She stood with her back straight and chin held high, overseeing the ceremony and gazing out at the tens of thousands of quiet faces. Behind her was a rich verdant wall of woven boughs that enabled distant spectators to more easily pick out the six people up on the platform. An ethereal mist of silent breath lifted in the still, golden, lateafternoon air.

As he conducted the wedding ceremony, Zedd's back was to her. Kahlan was fascinated to see his wavy white hair, perpetually in disarray, now brushed and smoothed down. He wore his fine maroon robes with black sleeves and cowled shoulders. Silver brocade circled the cuffs, while gold brocade ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold buckle gathered the outfit at his waist. Adie stood beside him, wearing her simple sorceress's robes with their yellow and red beads at the neckline. Somehow, the contrast looked as grand.

Verna wore a rich violet dress done up with gold stitching at the square neckline.

329

The intricate gold needlework ran down the tight sleeves showing under slashed sham sleeves tied at the elbow with gold ribbon. The delicate smocking over the midriff extending in a funnel shape down into a gored skirt flaring nearly to the floor. Vema's wavy brown hair was festooned with blue, gold, and crimson flowers the sisters had made from little pieces of silk. With her serene smile, she made a beautiful sorceress bride standing beside the handsome blond groom in his violet wizard's robes.

Everyone seemed to lean in a little as the ceremony reached the climax.

"Do you, Vema, take this wizard to be your husband for life," Zedd went on in a clear tone that carried out over the crowd, "mindful of his gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor him without pause for as long as you live?"

"I do," Vema said in a silken voice.

"Do you, Warren," Adie said, her voice all the more raspy in contrast to Vema's, "take this sorceress to be your wife for life, mindful of her gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor her without pause for as long as you live?

"I do," Warren said in a confident tone.

"Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, sorceress, as being agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union." Zedd raised 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.

330

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?"

331

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?"

332

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?"