"Nicci, may I ask you a question, a serious question, about magic?"
"How long do you think a dragon could exist without magic?"
Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. "When the chimes were here, in this world, they drew away magic. All of the magic, or nearly all, anyway, was withdrawn from the world of life for a time."
That was what he had feared. Richard considered her words along with what he knew. "Not all creatures of magic depend on it. Us, for example; we are, in a way,
creatures of magic, but we can live without it, too. I'm wondering if creatures that depended on magic for their very existence might not have made it through until the chimes were banished and magic was restored to the world of life."
Richard pulled his horse up short. "What?"
"Tell me what you know."
"Nicci, please, just tell me what you know?"
"Richard, magic is a complex matter, so there can be no certainty." She held up a hand to forestall his cascade of questions. "This much, though, is certain. The world doesn't stay the same. It changes continuously.
He thought he might. "I accidentally used magic to call forth the spirit of my father from the underworld. I banished him back to the underworld with the use of magic. The Mud People, for example, use magic to communicate with their spirit ancestors beyond the veil in the underworld. I had to go to the Temple of the Winds, in another world, when Jagang sent a Sister there to start a plague which she brought back from that world."
"They used magic to bridge the gap between worlds."
"You mean, like life is created into this world, and after death, souls are taken by the Keeper to the underworld?"
Richard was getting lost. He hadn't grown up knowing anything about magic. "We're caught between the two realms?"
"Magic is a conduit between worlds. As magic diminishes, those other worlds are not just more distant to us, but the power of those worlds, in this world, diminishes. Do you see?"
"Yes." In the fading light her eyes seemed more blue than usual. "As the worlds grow more separate, it is something like a child growing and leaving home. But there is more to it, yet."
236
"Exactly," she hissed.
"No," she said in a soft voice. "He wishes it not for himself, but for mankind." Richard started to argue, but she cut him off. "I know Jagang. I'm telling you what he believes. He may enjoy the spoils, but in his heart, he believes he is doing this for mankind, not himself."
"Because of events like the chimes, the world may already have irrevocably changed to a point where creatures of magic have died out," she said as she stared out over the empty twilight. "In an evolving world such as I describe, magic, even such as ours, would soon die out, too. Do you see, now? Without that conduit to other worlds, worlds that may no longer exist, magic would not come into existence when offspring of the gifted are born."
As they rode on, Richard gazed back over his shoulder at bones he could no longer see.
There was a road coming in from the southwest, from Renwold, and other roads going off to the north. Ripply was a crossroads for trade between Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded at that outpost city, and villages to the north and east. Now, of course, Renwold was gone; the Imperial Order had sacked the city. Now, with only ghosts inhabiting the streets of Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded their goods there would suffer. The people from the towns and villages who came to Ripply would suffer, too; Ripply was falling on hard times.
237
When Richard thanked him and told him they were tired, the man smiled for the first time and said, "I'll be seeing to your horses, then. I hope you and your wife sleep well. Good night, then."
When Richard greeted the people, he got back only vacant looks. When he and Nicci walked to the supply store, not far away past a few drab buildings, the people all followed, as if it were a king and queen come to town, and they all wanted to see what such highborn people did with their day. Goats and chickens wandering Ripply's main street scattered before the procession. A milk cow cropping brown grass behind the leather shop paused for a look. A rooster atop a stump flapped his wings in annoyance.
When an older boy asked where they were going to look for work, as there was little to be found in Ripply, Nicci told them that they were going to the Old World. Some of the adults snatched up children and hurried away. Yet more remained close on Richard and Nicci's heels.
"What can I get you," the proprietor asked.
He glanced out the sparkling-clean little window to see Nicci standing in the middle of the ragged group, talking about the Creator's love for them. They all listened as if she were a good spirit come to comfort them.
Richard was about to give the man a list of their needs, when Nicci glided in the door.
"Richard, 1 need some money."
Richard pulled open the saddlebag, peering in to see how much they had left. It wasn't much. He could hardly believe what Nicci had just done. It made no sense.
"No oatmeal, but I've got the rest. How much do you want?"
He laid six silver pennies on the counter. "Just what that will buy us." He pulled his pack off his back and set it on the counter beside the money.
Richard had only a few silver pennies, two silver crowns, and no gold left. Nicci had handed out more money than most of those people had ever seen in their entire lifetimes. Worried about what they were going to do for supplies in the future, Richard slung his pack onto his back when the shop proprietor had finished, and rushed out to see if he couldn't slow Nicci down.
Worried, Richard seized Nicci's arm and pulled her back. She turned toward him.
"That's what I'm thinking," Richard said, holding his anger in check. "Let's hope the stableman is done with them by now so we can get out of here."
"What?" Richard blinked in angry astonishment. "May I at least ask why?"
Richard was beyond words. He just stared at her. How were they going to travel? He considered the question briefly, and decided that he didn't really care how soon they got to wherever it was she was taking him. But they would have to carry everything. He was a woods guide, and used to walking with a pack, so he guessed he could walk. He let out his breath and turned toward the stables.
The man frowned, looked at the horses standing in their stalls, and then back at Richard. He looked thunderstruck.
239
He glanced uneasily at her. Most people were uneasy gazing at Nicci, either because of her startling beauty, or because of her cool, often denunciative, presence.
"We didn't ask you to," Nicci said in a dull voice. "We only asked to sell them to you. We need to sell them. We'll take what you can give us."
"All I can pay is four silver marks for the both of them."
"And the tack," Nicci said.
"Is there anyone else in town who might buy them for more?" Richard asked.
The man kept glancing at Nicci, seeming to suspect that this transaction was beyond Richard's ability to control. Her steady blue eyes could make any man fidget.
The man sighed unhappily at his windfall. "I don't have that much money on me. I'll go in the house"-he lifted a thumb over his shoulder-"out back of the barn and get it, if you'd be so good as to wait a minute."
Richard turned to her, feeling his face heating. "What's this all about?" He saw through the partly open stable doors that the crowd of people who had followed them were still out there.
Richard pulled his glare from her. He stalked over to his gear, sitting outside Boy's stall, and began stuffing everything he could into his pack. He strapped the waterskins around his waist and flipped the saddlebags over his shoulders. He was sure the stable owner wouldn't complain about not having the saddlebags with the rest of the tack. Richard thought that when they reached a more prosperous town, he could at least sell the saddlebags. While he worked, Nicci put her belongings into a pack she could carry.
"I'll take it," she said.
"Thank you," Nicci said. "That was very generous of you to share what you have. That is the Creator's way."
Without another word, Nicci turned and strode through the dimly lit stable and out the door.
Outside in the sunlight, Nicci began doling out the money she had just gotten for the horses. The people vied for her favor as she walked among them, speaking to them, asking questions, until she was out of sight, past the edge of the barn door.
"I hope she's a good wife to you," the man finally said.
"She's just generous," Richard said. "That's why I married her. She's good to people."
A half dozen men had Nicci down on the ground, some swinging at her with their fists as she tried to fend them off with her bare hands. Others pawed at her, searching for a money pouch. They were fighting over the unearned before it was even out of her hands. A crowd of women, children, and other men stood around the scene in a circle, vultures waiting to pick the bones.
Richard started after one of them, but Nicci suddenly flew at him, restraining him.
In his rage to get at the men, Richard nearly smashed her face, but, when he realized it was her, lowered his fists to his sides as he glared at the crowd.
"You're a bunch of thieves!" Richard yelled. "Thieving from someone who was trying to help you!"
The people vanished like mice before a hissing cat.
"What's the matter with you? Giving money to people who would rather rob you than wait for you to hand it to them willingly? Why would you give money to such vermin?"
dren. Who are you to judge? Who are you, with a full belly, to say what's right? You have no idea what those poor people have been through, and yet you are quick to judge." Richard took a purging breath. He reminded himself yet again of what he had to keep uppermost in his mind. It was not really Nicci he had been protecting.
"It's not bad," he told her. "Just a cut in the corner of your mouth. Hold still, now."
"Thank you, Richard." She hesitated. "I was sure one of them was going to cut my throat."
"Have you forgotten? To do that, I would have to take power from the link keeping Kahlan alive."
Nicci said nothing as they walked out of the town of Ripply, carrying everything they owned on their backs. As cold as the day was, it wasn't long before his brow was dotted with sweat.
Her brow twitched. "Those people were needy."
"Are you so selfish that you would not share what you have? Are you so selfish that you would ask the hungry to starve, the unclothed to freeze, the sick to die? Does money mean more to you than people's lives?"
"It was all we could get. Those people were in need. Under the circumstances, it was the best we could do. We acted with the most noble of intentions. It was our duty to not be selfish and to joyfully give these people what they needed."
been the wasteland from which no one returned. "We needed what we had," he said.
"Is that right."
"When we get to where we're going, we will have nothing. We will be just like all the other miserable people of this wretched world-with little chance to make it on our own. You don't have any idea what that's like. I want you to learn how the compassion of the Order helps ordinary people live with the dignity they are entitled to."
Richard returned his gaze to the empty land stretching out before them. A Sister of the Dark who couldn't use her power, and a wizard who was forbidden from using his. He guessed they couldn't get any more ordinary than that. "I thought it was you who wanted to learn," he said. "I am also your teacher. Teachers sometimes learn more than their students."
CHAPTER 31
Zedd realized he was slumped on the ground, his legs sprawled out to the side. He saw that he had been sleeping with his head on the burly chest of a cold corpse. In despair, he recalled that he had been trying everything he knew to heal the horribly wounded man. In mournful revulsion, he pushed away from the cold body and sat up.
Not far away, the ground was littered with shattered tree trunks, blasted asunder by the enemy gifted. Men lay sprawled, torn apart or impaled by huge splintered sections of those trees. It had been two of Jagang's Sisters who had done it, just before dark, as the D'Haran forces were all collecting into the valley, thinking the battle had ended. Zedd and Warren had ended it by taking those two Sisters down with wizard's fire.
The first day had gone as well as could be expected. The battle had dragged on sporadically throughout the first night with relatively minor skirmishes, and then had erupted with full force at dawn of the second day. As night had fallen on the second day, the fighting had finally ended. Looking around, Zedd thought it seemed to be over-at least for the time being.
Unfortunately, the Order had gotten the better of the battle, by far.
244
Zedd staggered to his feet, worried about the distant thunder of horses. Horns closer into camp repeated the warning to hold arrows and spears, that it was friendly forces. It sounded like too many horses for any patrol they had out. In the back of his mind, Zedd tried to recall if he felt the twinge of magic that would tell him the horns were genuine. In the fog of fatigue, he had forgotten to pay attention. That was how people ended up dead, he knew-inattention to such details.
It was difficult to see in the poor light, but Zedd was able to see well enough to tell that the ground was littered with the dead, the wounded, or the simply spent. Fires, both the common orange and yellow flames of burning wagons and the unnatural green blazes that were the remnants of magic, were left to burn out on their own. Horses as well as men lay everywhere, still and lifeless, torn open by ghastly wounds. The battlefields changed, but battle didn't. Now was a time of helpless shock. He remembered from his youth the stench of blood and death mingled with greasy smoke. It was still the same. He remembered in battles past thinking the world had gone mad. It still felt the same.
Zedd squinted into the murk and saw in the distance soldiers scattering before a mass of approaching riders. Men waved their arms, as if in greeting. A few offered weak cheers. Many pointed in Zedd's direction, funneling the horsemen his way. As First Wizard, he had become a focal point for everyone. The D'Harans, in Richard's absence, relied on Zedd to be their magic against magic. The Sisters relied on his experience in the nasty art of magic in warfare.
Orange and green smoke, lit from behind by the eerie light of fires, curled away to each side as the column of riders charged though the middle of the camp at an easy gallop.
Zedd saw, then, who was leading them.
Sitting tall atop a huge horse at the head of the column was a woman in leather armor with fur billowing out behind her like an angry pennant.
Even at that distance, Zedd could see, sticking up behind her left shoulder, the gleam of light off the silver and gold hilt of the Sword of Truth.
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Adie, her completely white eyes transfixed by the sight she beheld through her gift alone. Verna was still weaving her way through the wounded. Captain Meiffert and General Leiden rushed to follow in Verna's footsteps.
The horses skidded to a halt before him, snorting and stamping, tossing their armored heads. Plumes of steam rose from their nostrils when they blew great hot breaths in the icy air. Powerful muscles flexed beneath glossy hides as they pawed the ground. The eager beasts stood at the ready, their tails lashing side to side, slapping their flanks like whips.
Kahlan had provisionally taken the place of her half sister, Cyrilla, as queen of Galea, until Cyrilla was well again-if that ever happened. Kahlan's half brother, Harold, was the commander of the Galean army, and didn't want the crown, feeling himself more fit to serve his land in the soldier's life. Kahlan had Galean blood in her veins, although, to a Confessor, matters of blood were irrelevant. They were not so irrelevant to Galeans.
Battle-weary men all around stood in rapt silence. This was not merely the Mother Confessor. This was Lord Rahl's wife.
Kahlan pulled off her gloves. "Report."
"Kahlan," he whispered as she stepped closer, "where's Richard?"
"The enemy has him. Report."
"The enemy? What enemy?"
Kahlan returned her attention to Zedd. Her eyes softened with a vestige of sympathy for the anguish she must have seen on his face. "A Sister of the Dark took him, Zedd." The respite of warmth in her voice and eyes faded as her countenance returned to the cold, empty mask of a Confessor. "I would like a report, please."
She touched the side of her mouth and Zedd saw then that she. had a swollen cut. "He's all right as far as I know."
Verna finally made it up to Zedd's left side. Captain Meiffert and General Leiden ran up to the other side of Adie, on his right.
"Nicci."
Kahlan met his gaze. "That's the one. Now, is someone going to give me a report?"
"Mother Confessor, the Imperial Order forces, all of them, finally moved up from Anderith." He rubbed his brow as he tried to think. "Yesterday morning, I guess it was."
"We knew," Captain Meiffert went on, "that it would be a fatal mistake to let them get by us and stream into the Midlands unopposed. We had to draw them into action to prevent them from unleashing their might against the populace. We had to engage them and bog them down. The only way to do that was to taunt them into following us out of the open, where they had the advantage, into terrain that helped even the odds."
"I'd guess maybe fifteen thousand," Captain Meiffert said. "But that's just a guess. It may be more."
"That's right, Mother Confessor."
The Galean troops behind her formed a grim wall of leather, chain mail, and steel. Officers with incisive eyes watched and listened.
"Somehow," the captain explained, "they knew what we planned. Although, I guess it wouldn't be all that hard to figure out, since anyone would know it was our only chance against their numbers. They were confident they could defeat us, regardless, so they obliged our plan."
247
Kahlan settled her cool gaze on the man. He seemed to catch himself and fell to one knee.
Kahlan's gaze lost some of its edge as it moved back to Captain Meiffert.
"So," Kahlan said, "they reasoned you would think it impossible, so they sent a division across the river-probably a great deal more, willing to bear their losses in the crossing-went north through the mountains, unsuspected, unseen, and undetected, and crossed back to this side of the river. When you got here, they were waiting for you, holding the ground you had planned to hold. With the Order hot on your heels, you had nowhere else to go. The Order intended to crush you between that division holding this defendable ground and their army on your tail."
"What happened to the division waiting here?" she asked.
Kahlan gave him a nod. She knew full well what a mighty effort his simple words conveyed.
"Apparently you did," she answered. "You gained the valley."
Some men looked away. Some stared at the ground. Only the crackle of fires and the moans of the wounded filled the frigid night air.
Zedd's brow went up, along with his own anger. "We've been at it for two days, Kahlan."
Captain Meiffert clapped a fist to his heart in salute. "Clear; Mother Confessor."
"Mother Confessor," General Leiden said, dropping her title of queen, "the men have been up for two days, now."
In the harsh reflection of firelight, the creases in General Leiden's face looked like angry gashes. He pressed his lips together and bowed to his queen, but when he came up, he spoke again.
248
Zedd swallowed. "I'm afraid that's him."
"Who is next in command," Kahlan asked.
Kahlan lifted a hand. "That will be all, Lieutenant Leiden."
She fixed him with an implacable stare. "To question me once is a simple mistake, Lieutenant. Twice is treason. We execute traitors."
Even in the haunting orange and green light of fires, Zedd could see the man's face pale. He took a step back and wisely, if belatedly, fell silent.
"Kahlan," Zedd said, "I'm afraid the Order used their gifted to single out men of rank. Despite our best efforts, I believe we lost all our senior officers. It cost them dearly, at least."
Captain Meiffert looked around and finally lifted his hand.
"Very well, General Meiffert."
"No one said it was, General."
"As I said, I don't allow the enemy to go to bed with victory." Kahlan scanned the faces watching her. "I want a cavalry raid ready to go within the hour."
Everyone knew what the former General Leiden meant by the question. He was asking who she was sending to their death.
She looked back to the new Lieutenant Leiden's eyes and answered his question. "I will be leading the southern wing."
"My queen, why would you want us to get our men together for a calvary raid?"
He pointed to the wall of men, all on horses behind her: all Galeans-traditional adversaries of the Keltans, Leiden's homeland. "When we have these?"
A cheer went up.
General Meiffert took a step closer to her. "I'll have my best men ready within the hour, Mother Confessor. Everyone will want to go; I'll have to disappoint a lot of volunteers."
"I will be leading the northern wing, Mother Confessor."
She ordered the Galean troops off to their duties. With a sweep of her finger, she dismissed everyone but the immediate group and called that inner circle closer.
"I remember well what Richard said. I'm not going to directly attack their main force."
"The main force will be in the center, well protected. At their edges, where you attack, will be defenses, of course, but mostly the camp followers will be at the tail end of the Order's camp-the fringe to the south, mostly."
General Meiffert gave his nod. "No mercy. You'll get no argument from us, Mother Confessor; that is the D'Haran code of warfare."
Verna spoke up. "Mother Confessor, Ann was going to see you and Richard. We last heard from her over a month ago. Have you seen her?"
Verna licked her lips in caution at the steely look in Kahlan's eyes. "Was she all right?"
"Would you know why she hasn't sent any word to us?"
Verna stepped forward, making to snatch Kahlan by the shoulder. Cara's Agiel came up like lightning, barring her way.
"No one touches the Mother Confessor." Cara's cold blue eyes were as deadly as her words. "Is that clear? No one."
Zedd's fingers found Verna's arm and gently urged her back.
Kahlan's eyes told him she challenged that statement, but she said nothing.
"Thank you, but we will be taking no gifted."
"We will have the enemy campfires to show us our way."
"No. I don't want any gifted with us. They are expecting any attack to be accompanied by our gifted. Their gifted will be watching for shields of magic. Any riders they do see without detecting magic they will be more likely to discount. We'll be able to get in deeper and draw more blood without gifted along."
"Zedd, I would like one bit of magic."
Kahlan gestured at the ground. "Make that dust glow. I want it to show up in the dark, and I want it sticky."
She shrugged. "The rest of the night would be enough."
"What are you doing?" Zedd asked.
Zedd sighed at the madness.
"Be sure to wash your hand clean before we go," she said.
Before they could get far, Zedd halted Kahlan with a softly spoken question.
She gazed boldly into his eyes. "Yes. I have a plan."
"It's simple. I plan on killing every Imperial Order man, woman, and child until I get to the very last one left alive, and then if she doesn't give him back, I'm going to kill her, too."
CHAPTER 32
She gripped the reins in one fist. With her other, she lifted her royal Galean sword high. The lights were coming. Unexpectedly, the first came out of nowhere and exploded into her vision.
On their way by, the men behind her unleashed their fury against the remaining sentries at the outpost. Kahlan held tight, knowing the greater unleashing of her need was yet to come. She would not be denied, now.
Laying the reins over, Kahlan pulled her big warhorse around in a tight circle. He was not as agile as she would have preferred, but he was well trained and for this job he would do. He bellowed with the excitement of battle begun.
The couple, arm in arm-undoubtedly at a price-was close. The man was on the far side of the woman as Kahlan raced up behind them, so with a mighty swing
she took off the woman's head, instead. The stupefied man clutched the headless body as it began to fall. The cavalry man right behind Kahlan took the startled man down.
A soldier with a pike stood with his legs spread in a stance of sudden alarm. On her way past, Kahlan snatched the pike from his grip, stabbed it into a small tent, twisting it, getting the canvas tangled up on its barbs, and then backed her horse, hauling the tent off a man and woman. Her men following behind stabbed the exposed couple as Kahlan pulled the remnants of the tent through a fire. As soon as it lit, she dragged the flaming canvas to a wagon, setting that wagon's tarp afire, and then threw the blazing remains in another wagon full of supplies.
Kahlan wheeled her mount, stabbing anyone within reach. Many were not soldiers. Her sword felled leatherworkers and wagon masters, whores and soldiers. High-stepping at her command, her horse trampled down a line of big tents where wounded were being cared for. Beside a lamp, Kahlan spotted a surgeon with needle and thread working on a man's leg. She drove her horse around to trample the surgeon and the man he was sewing up. The surgeon held his arms up before his face, but his arms were no good at warding the weight of a huge warhorse.
To her left, Cara's horse cut off a man about to throw a spear. Cara coolly went about killing him and anyone else within her reach. A twist of her Agiel usually seized up their hearts, and if not, Kahlan could at least hear bones snap. Their cries of death and pain seemed frightful enough to send a shiver up the spines of the dead, and did add to the general confusion and panic. It was glorious music to Kahlan's ears.
The indiscriminate nature of the killing in among the camp followers confused the enemy soldiers, and terrorized the people who commonly believed themselves impervious to the violence they ultimately fed off of. Now, rather than being the vultures picking at the carcasses, they were the hapless prey. Life in the Imperial Order's camp would never be the same-Kahlan would see to that. No more would
the enemy soldiers enjoy the comforts provided by these people. They would now know they were no less targets than officers. They would know the price of their participation. The price was a merciless death and payment had come due.
Kahlan stood in her stirrups, waving her sword high in the air. Men paused to stare.
The hundred men with her sent up a cheer. Their voices joined in a chant.
Kahlan and her men charged their horses around in an ever-widening circle, trampling anyone they could, hacking anyone within reach, stabbing anyone who rushed them, setting fire to anything that would burn. These D'Haran soldiers were the best at what they did, and they did it with brilliant effectiveness. When they found a wagon with oil, they broke the barrels open and tossed on flaming logs they plucked up with lances from fires. Night whooshed into day. Everyone could plainly see Kahlan, now, as she charged through their midst, screaming her pronouncement of death.
"You are all cowards! You will never catch me or best me! You will all die like the cowards you are at the hands of the Mother Confessor!"
Being at the edge of the Order's camp, they wouldn't have much ground to cover before they were out of the camp, again, and into the open countryside. As they raced away, Kahlan took the opportunity to kill anyone who presented themselves. It was too dark to tell if they were men or woman, and it didn't matter anyway. She wanted them all dead. Each time her sword made contact, slashing muscle or breaking bone, was a delicious release.
She knew this land well enough, the gentle hills, the bluffs ahead. She knew where she was, even in the dark, and she knew where she was going. She was counting on the enemy not knowing. In the disorienting sweep of darkness, they would fixate on following the glowing handprints on her horse's rump, thinking one of their gifted had gotten close enough to mark her horse for them. They would be gleeful with the blinding anticipation of having her naked to their swords.
254
Her men were right behind her, but, as instructed, rode to each side so there was a gap, allowing the enemy to see the glowing marks on her horse. When Kahlan feared she was as close as they dared get, she signaled with a whistle. Over her shoulders, she watched her men, her protection, peeling away, off into the night. She would not see them again until she returned to the D'Haran camp.
"How far?" Cara called over from close beside her.
Kahlan's words cut off when she suddenly spotted briefly what was right there before her.
Kahlan pulled her leg up just in time as Cara rammed her horse over. The two huge animals jostled dangerously. Kahlan threw her arm around Cara's shoulders. Cara's arm seized Kahlan's waist and yanked her over, off her horse. Kahlan gave her horse one last smack with the flat of her sword. The horse snorted in panic as it charged onward at full speed into the blackness.
For an instant, through a break in the clouds, Kahlan spied the dull slur of starlight reflecting off the churning, icy waters of the Drun River below.
Neither would the Imperial Order cavalry as they followed the glowing handprints on into the dark. This was her Midlands; Kahlan knew what was there; they were invaders, and did not. Even if they did see it coming in the last twinkling of their lives, at a full charge into pitch blackness they would never have a chance to avert their doom.
Kahlan turned her thoughts away from the heat of battle. The forces of the D'Haran Empire could sleep, now, with a victory over their enemy and with the sweet taste of vengeance. Kahlan found that it did little, though, to quell the fires of her raging anger.
255
"Well," Cara said over her shoulder after they had ridden for a time through the hushed expanse of countryside, "we do this every night for a year or two, and that should just about wipe them all out."
256
By the time Kahlan and Cara rode in among the wounded, the exhausted, and the sleeping D'Haran troops, it was only a few hours from dawn. Kahlan had thought they might have to find a safe place out in the grasslands to sleep and wait for daylight in order to find their way back, but they had been fortunate; a break in the cloud cover had allowed the stars to show them the way. In the shimmering sweep of stars alone, they had been able to see the black drape of mountains at the horizon. With that visual guide, they were able to make their way far out into the empty country so that they could safely get around the Imperial Order, and then head back north to their own troops.
Near the area where the horses were picketed, General Meiffert, having heard the cheering, was waiting impatiently. He trotted over to meet them. Beside the gate of the temporary corral, one of the soldiers took the reins to the horse as Kahlan and then Cara jumped down. Kahlan winced at the ache in her muscles from the recent days of hard riding, and the night of fighting. Her right arm socket throbbed from the blows she had landed. She mused to herself that her sword arm never hurt like that in her mock battles with Richard. For the benefit of anyone watching, she forced herself to walk as if she had just had a three-day rest.
"And I you, General."
"It wasn't foolhardy," Cara said. "I was with her, watching out for her."
"How many men did we lose?" Kahlan asked instead.
"I don't recall the Creator wielding a sword with us," Cara said.
"Mother Confessor, I can't tell you what a boost that was to the men. But, please, you won't do anything like that again, will you?"
"I'm not here to smile and wave and look pretty for the men, General. I'm here to help them send those murderous bastards into the eternal arms of the Keeper."
Kahlan nodded and let the general lead her and Cara through the now quiet camp. Men not sleeping stood and silently saluted with fists to their hearts. Kahlan tried to smile for them. She could see in their eyes how much they appreciated what she had done to turn the tide of the grim battle back a little in their favor. They probably thought she had done it for them. That was only partly true.
"This was General Reibisch's tent, Mother Confessor. I had your things put inside. I thought you should have the best tent. If it bothers you to sleep in his tent, though, I'll have your belongings moved to anywhere you wish."
His expression showed only some of the pain she thought he must feel. "I can't replace a man like that, Mother Confessor. He was not just a great general, but a great man, too. He taught me a lot and honored me with his trust. He was the best man I ever served under. I don't want you to have any illusions about my replacing him. I know I can't."
He smiled at her generosity. "You'll have that, Mother Confessor. I promise you, you'll have that." He turned to Cara and changed the subject. "I had your things put in this tent, here, Mistress Cara." It was the one right beside Kahlan's tent.
"I appreciated your help, tonight, General. You should get some sleep, too."
"You know, I always hoped to someday become a general. Ever since I was a boy, I've dreamed of it. I imagined . . ." He looked away from Kahlan's eyes. "I guess I imagined it would make me proud and happy." He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and gazed out over the dark camp, perhaps seeing all those dreams from his past, or maybe seeing all his new duties.
"I know," she answered in sincere sympathy. "This wasn't the way any good man would want to gain rank, but sometimes challenges arise, and we must face them." She let out a silent sigh, and tried to envision how he must feel. "Someday, General, the pride and satisfaction will come. It comes from doing the job well and knowing that you are making a difference."
258 --]--- Inside her tent, Zedd was sitting alone, waiting. Kahlan groaned inwardly.
She stood just inside, saying nothing, watching him as he rose to his feet. His wavy white hair was more disorderly than usual. His heavy robes were filthy and spattered with blood. Around his knees the robes were dark with dried blood.
Zedd finally held her out at arm's length, squeezing her shoulders in his surprisingly strong fingers. "I just wanted to wait until you were back, and safe, before I went to bed. I wanted to let my eyes take you in." He smiled in a sad way. "I'm so very relieved you're safe. Sleep well, Kahlan."
The tent was spacious, by army standards, but it was still cramped. The canvas looked heavy enough to keep out most any weather. Lamps, hanging at each end of the tent from a rod forming the peak of the roof, cast a warm glow inside the snug tent. Kahlan tried to imagine the burly General Reibisch pacing in such a small space, tugging his rust-colored beard, worrying over the problems of an army bigger than many cities.
Besides that, Zedd had been fighting for two days and healing soldiers at night. She had seen him, when she arrived, staggering to his feet beside the corpse of what turned out to be General Reibisch. She knew that if Zedd couldn't save the man, he was beyond saving.
"You could sit for a minute, Zedd. Couldn't you?"
Kahlan couldn't argue with that. She realized her head was throbbing. The passions of battle masked little things, like a pounding headache. The straw-filled mattress looked as good as a feather bed to her right then. She tossed her wolf-fur mantle and her cloak on the bed. They would keep her warm.
259
She felt her face flush when, just before she laid the sword down, she kissed the top of the hilt, where Richard's hand had so often rested. Zedd, if he even noticed, said nothing, and she laid the gleaming scabbard and sword to rest beside her mattress.
She noticed, too, that the leather leg armor had bloody handprints here and there on it, and there were long gouges in the leather from mens' fingernails. She remembered men grabbing for her, trying to unhorse her, but she didn't recall their hands actually clawing at her. The images that started flooding back threatened to make her nauseated, so she directed her mind to other things.
"I gathered," he said.
"We can use them."
Zedd nodded. "That was wise."
"Sounds so."
Zedd only nodded.
Zedd shrugged. "You came as fast as possible. You're here, now."
She glanced over her shoulder briefly in the dim lamplight and then went back to picking at the knot. "I suppose you'd like to know how that Sister of the Dark managed to capture Richard."
As she picked at the stubborn knot, her hair fell forward over her shoulder. She had to push it back in order to see what she was doing. The stupid leather thong was tightly knotted. She wanted to yell at the person who had tied it, but she had done it up herself and had no one else to blame.
260
"Richard can't kill her, or I die, too."
"I've only read about such spells, but from what I know, it sounds as if she told you the truth of it."
"I don't think Richard would do that."
One of the little lamps was flickering, making shadows waver. The other was hissing softly. Kahlan wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Kahlan felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Zedd said nothing. It was the greatest kindness he could have given her at that moment-not burying her heart under an avalanche of questions.
Zedd slowly rose to his feet. He was a collection of bony angles under his maroon robes. With one arm crooked to point while he gaped at Spirit standing proudly atop the small table, his lanky body looked as stiff as a spindly tree in winter.
She realized then that the look wasn't so much meant to be suspicious, as teasing. Kahlan ran a finger down Spirit's flowing robes, letting her gaze follow the strength in the lines of the woman's strong pose. Something felt so right about the way her head was thrown back, with her fists at her sides, and her back arched, standing against the invisible power trying to subdue her.
Zedd's brow drew lower. He stared at the carving for a time before reaching out a sticklike finger to touch it, as if it were some priceless antiquity.
Kahlan pretended a smile. "Almost. It's called Spirit, he said. Richard carved it for me when I was feeling like I would never get better. It helped me . . ."
"It's you," he said half to himself. "Dear spirits . . . the boy carved a statue of your spirit. I recognize it. It's as plain as day."
Other than a half sister and brother who were strangers but for blood, neither did she. She was as alone in the world as was Zedd.
Now, through Richard, Zedd was her family, but even if he wasn't, she realized he could mean no less to her.
Everything seemed to be swimming. Kahlan fell into his protective arms and dissolved into tears.
Kahlan nodded as she squinted off into the narrow valley far below. The scene was frosted whitewhite trees, white rocks, white meadows. Enemy troops moving up the distant valley floor looked like a dark line of ants marching across powdered sugar.
Warren's blue eyes turned to the Mord-Sith. Cara's red leather would have stood out like a beacon, were she not sheathed in wolf fur that made her melt into the background of snow-dusted brush. Kahlan's own fur mantle was soft and warm against the sides of her face. Sometimes, since Richard had made it for her, the feel against her skin was evocative of his gentle caress protecting her and keeping her warm.
Cara's nose wrinkled. "What's that mean?"
Cara's face distorted with her displeasure at the thought of magic. She shifted her weight to her other foot, went back to watching the line of troops slowly flowing up the valley, and kept silent.
They trudged up the slope dense with pine and naked aspen, to the thickly wooded top of the ridge, where the backbone of rock broke through the snow here and there like half-buried bones. Their horses waited a good distance back down off the rocky slope. Farther back down the mountain, where Warren and Kahlan were sure they would not be detected by any gifted who might be protecting the Order troops, waited an escort of D'Haran guards General Meiffert had handpicked to protect Kahlan and the two with her, who were also protecting her.
263
"I don't think so, Warren."
"I think they want it to look like they're sending troops past us so we will send men way out here after them."
"I think so. It's just close enough to us to be likely we would discover them, yet far enough away and through difficult enough terrain that it would require us to split our forces in order to do anything about it. Besides, every one of our scouts came back."
"Sure it is. But what if they have gifted with them, as you believe? How is it that not one of our scouts failed to make it back to report these massive troop movements?"
"I think they're fishing," Cara said as her boots thumped down on solid ground behind them. "Their gifted don't try to net the small fry, hoping to draw bigger fish close."
Warren looked skeptical. "You think this is all just some sort of elaborate trap to snare officers or gifted?"
Warren scratched his head of curly blond hair. His blue eyes twitched back in the direction the three of them had come down off the ridge, as if trying to look again at what he could not see.
"Of course it should," Kahlan said. "If it were true."
"Then I'm confused," Warren said as he panted.
"Yes, if it were true that great numbers of troops were going out around us and heading north, that would concern us. But I don't believe they are."
"Nowhere," Kahlan said.
264
"But the scouts have been reporting mass numbers of men moving north for three days now!"
Warren covered his mouth with both hands when he realized he'd shouted.
"Remember what the scouts said yesterday?" she asked him. "They tried to go over to the mountains on the other side to have a look at the lay of the land beyond and the enemy troops moving north through it, but the passes were too heavily guarded?"
"I think I've just figured out why." She gestured by looping her hand around as she went on. "I think what we're seeing is a relatively small group of the same men just going around in a big circle. We're only seeing them at the point where they pass up this valley. We see troops marching by continuously for days and we assume they're moving a lot of men, but I think it's just a circle of the same ones going round and round."
"We're already outnumbered," Cara said as she nodded to herself, "but we have the advantage of defending terrain that suits our purpose. However, if they could reduce our numbers substantially simply by getting us to send a large percentage off on some mission, first, their entire army might finally be able to overrun a smaller number of remaining defenders."
Kahlan turned to look back toward the ridge, too. "Well, if I'm wrong, then. . ."
Kahlan gasped as Warren seized her and Cara by the collar and flung them both down on their backs. The wind knocked from her lungs, Kahlan tried to sit up, but Warren dived to the ground between them, pinning them both down.
If any of them had been standing, they would have been torn to shreds.
265
"Gifted," he whispered again. "They focused their power to boil the frozen tree inside and make it explode. That's how we lost so many men when we gathered back in that valley during the first battle, back just before you came to us. They surprised us."
"Where's Cara," she asked in an urgent whisper.
"Dear Creator," Warren said. "You don't suppose they've snatched her, do you?"
A scream that would have made a brave man blanch reverberated through the trees. It trailed off in an agonizing echo.
"I don't think so."
Warren put a hand to her shoulder, urging Kahlan to stay down as he rolled into a crouch. She flipped over onto her stomach and cautiously rose up onto her hands and knees.
Through the trees, she saw Cara returning. The Mord-Sith was herding a small man in obvious pain along before her. Each time he stumbled and fell, she kicked him in the ribs, rolling him through the snow before her. He cried out, his words coming as a whining cry that Kahlan couldn't make out because of the distance. The words weren't hard to imagine, though.
Kahlan stood, brushing snow from herself. Warren, his violet robes crusted with snow, rose beside her, transfixed by the sight. This was one of the wizards responsible for killing so many men when the D'Harans had gathered in the valley after the Order began moving north. This was the vicious animal who did Jagang's bidding. He didn't seem like a vicious animal, now, as he wept and begged before the implacable captor driving him on before her.
Cara bent, seized him by his tangled mat of dark hair, and yanked him to his feet.
266
Tears ran from wintery eyes. He wiped his nose on the back of a tattered sleeve as he glared at Warren. Young Lyle looked to be a boy of perhaps ten or twelve years, but since Warren knew him, Kahlan realized he was probably from the Palace of the Prophets, too. Lyle was a young wizard.
Shrieking in pain, he crumpled to the ground. She kicked the injured lad in the ribs.
Her icy blue eyes turned up to challenge him. "He tried to kill us. He tried to kill the Mother Confessor."
Warren licked his lips. "I know . . . but..."
"He's so young. It isn't right."
Kahlan knew Cara was right. As difficult as it was to witness, Cara was right. If they died, how many men, women, and children would the Imperial Order go on to slaughter? Child though he was, he was a tool of the Order.
As Kahlan stared down into terrified, tear-filled brown eyes, she put on her Confessor's face, the face her mother had taught her when she was but a little girl, the face that masked her inner tumult.
The boy's bloody mouth turned up in a smile that was not his own.
The boy smiled a vacant bloody smile, but said nothing.
Kahlan thought that, with Warren there, a man he knew, he might throw himself toward the unexpected light coming from the open dungeon door. The boy behind the smile that was not his own watched Warren with longing that slowly curdled to loathing. This was a child who had seen the struggle for freedom bring horror and death and knew that servile obedience brought rewards and life. He was not old enough to understand what more there was to it.
"This isn't the first of Jagang's wizards we've captured," she said, offhandedly, to Warren. Her words, though, were not meant for Warren.
267
Marlin had in fact given them a great deal of trouble. He had nearly killed Cara and Kahlan both. Kahlan hoped Cara remembered how tenuous was her control over someone possessed by the dream walker.
"We discovered your scheme in time, Jagang. You made a mistake thinking you could get by our scouts. I hope you're with those men, so that when we wipe them out we can cut your throat."
"I'm afraid my husband likes me right where I am."
"He's around," Kahlan said in the same dispassionate voice.
"Is he, now?" The boy's eyes turned from Warren, back to Kahlan. "Why is it I don't believe you?"
"You'll see him soon enough, when we get this poor child back to camp. I'm sure Richard Rahl will want to laugh in your cowardly face when I tell him how we discovered the great emperor's plan to sneak troops north. He'll want to personally tell you what a fool you are."
"Ah, but I don't believe you," he said, as if losing interest. "We both know he's not there at all. Don't we, darlin?"
Kahlan let a sarcastic smile taint her lips. "Oh-you must mean Nicci?"
"Nicci? I don't know what you're talking about, darlin."
The eyes watched, and in them Kahlan could see careful calculations weighing her every word. But it was Nicci's words about Jagang that Kahlan was remembering.