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.
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.
She could see a cloud billowing out behind them. It looked little different than
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
"Good boy!" she cried.
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.
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.
"Sorry," Kahlan called over her shoulder.
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.
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
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.
Still the vast enemy army advanced. At most, the deadly flames only slowed them and disrupted their orderly attack.
"Why isn't it working?" Kahlan whispered, half to herself. She leaned toward Verna. "Are you sure it was made properly?"
Before she stepped into the stirrup, Kahlan noticed the Order slowing. She saw men stumbling. Some groped with outstretched arms. Others fell.
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 advance buckled. The Imperial Order ground to a halt.
"You two saved our necks at the end, there."
Warren shrugged. "I saw your predicament."
"You did it, Verna," Kahlan said. "You and your glass saved us."
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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.
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.
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.
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.
"Holly? Are you in there?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Come with me please."
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"Like it?" Kahlan asked.
"Richard carved it for me."
Kahlan felt an unexpected stab of anguish. She hadn't expected the subject to turn to Richard.
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."
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.
Holly only had to consider for a second.
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.
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.
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.
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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.
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.
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.
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.
She returned a sincere smile. "And you, Representative Theriault. Here, come over by the fire and warm yourself."
"We heard about Lord Rahl being captured," he finally said. "Has there been any word?"
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."
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.
"As near as we can figure, we've managed to kill over a hundred thousand of their troops."
"Then, they must be defeated. Have they run back to the Old World?"
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.
"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?"
"Puny.,,
"Ah, well, I was younger back then, and I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, besides."
He laughed softly. "Not by strength. He was cocky. I was clever, perhaps, and quick-that's all."
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."
His big brown eyes reflected the firelight as they turned toward her. "Anything, Mother Confessor. If it be in my power to do, anything."
Kahlan bent and shoved another log onto the fire. Sparks swirled around before ascending the chimney.
He considered only briefly. "Just tell me the numbers, and I will see to it. I'm sure it can be arranged."
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."
Representative Theriault's word was a pledge as sound as gold, and as valuable. She stood and faced him.
He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "Bleached wool?"
Kahlan made a fist before him. "I want to harry them mercilessly. I want to use
"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."
"Yes, but they're not going to have a sorceress telling every archer where to aim his arrow."
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."
Kahlan clasped arms with the man-not something the Mother Confessor typically did, but something anyone else might do in sincere appreciation of aid.
"Do you really think we can press the war effectively in winter?" Cara asked.
Kahlan turned back to the door. "We have to."
Kahlan gasped when she saw who it was.
"Harold!" she called out as she got closer. "Oh, Harold! Are we ever glad to see you!"
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.
"Mother Confessor. I'm gratified to find you well."
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."
Prince Harold stepped down out of the stirrup. "Mother Confessor, I-"
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's eyes shifted to the others, briefly. "Mother Confessor, we need to have a talk."
CHAPTER 41
"So," she began, fearing the worst, "how is Cyrilla?"
"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!"
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.
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."
Kahlan's sense of relief was sloughing away.
He ran his meaty fingers back through his long, thick, dark hair. "About a thousand."
He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "Captain Bradley and his men. The ones you led and fought beside, before."
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"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."
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."
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."
"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."
"Then Cyrilla is not recovered, Harold. She is still sick."
Elbow on the table, Kahlan rested her forehead against her fingertips. Thoughts were screaming around inside her head, demanding that this not be happening.
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."
"Harold, why would you follow the orders of a madwoman?"
Kahlan pounded her fist on the table and shot to her feet.
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She aimed a stiff arm, pointing at the camp beyond the lodge.
"Of course not, Mother Confessor."
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."
"Mother Confessor, I have been charged by my queen with protecting the people of Galea. I know my duty."
He looked at her as if she were some poor child who didn't understand the world of adult responsibility.
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."
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.
"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."
Kahlan slammed the flat of her hand down on the table. "Enough!"
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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.
"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."
Kahlan sank into 'her chair. She looked past him, to the side, staring into the hearth, into the flames.
"I must refuse, Mother Confessor. Let me say only that it is not out of malice."
"I realize that you may see it that way, Mother Confessor."
"I would expect that if you feel so strongly, you would have me put to death, Mother Confessor."
His eyes turned to her, filled with smoldering anger. The knuckles of his fists went white.
Kahlan stared at him in cold shock.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Harold."
"Your feelings," she repeated.
Kahlan swallowed past the painful constriction in her throat. Her fingers, lying limply on the table before her, tingled.
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.
"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.
Harold, hands clasped behind his back, chin held up, said nothing as Kahlan continued.
Harold's jaw dropped. "Mother Confessor . . . you wouldn't."
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.
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.
Harold gestured to Kahlan, relieved to hear Zedd's intercession. "Tell her, Wizard Zorander. Tell her."
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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.
"Prince Harold has been justly found guilty of treason. Your emotions for him
the lives of our people, and to the lives of his own people. He cannot be allowed to
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.
He looked at Adie. She shook her head. Verna likewise shook her head. Warren stared at Harold for a moment, then shook his head.
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.
She passed her gaze from Zedd, to Adie, to Verna, to Warren. None revealed anything in their expression.
The four gifted people nodded.
"Bradley, did Prince Harold tell you why he was coming here?"
"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."
He lifted his square jaw and looked at her with clear blue eyes. "Because we deserted, Mother Confessor."
"You what?"
"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 hope you aren't angry with us, Mother Confessor."
"Thank you, Bradley."
"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."
"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."
"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."
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."
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.
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.
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She released his arm. "I guess I don't. Never mind."
"What you had to say to Harold about using your mind, about reason, was very wise, Kahlan. You were right."
"Richard said that? Those were his very words?"
"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."
"Zedd, what's wrong?"
"Came to what?"
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.
"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.
"Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life is wholly embraced through reason, through this rule. In rejecting it, in rejecting reason, one embraces death."
By the next morning, about half of the Galean force had vanished, returning to their homeland and queen as ordered by Prince Harold before his death. The rest, like Captain Ryan and his young soldiers, remained loyal to the D'Haran Empire.
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.
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 . . .
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.
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.
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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.
Cara hopped down off her stool, where she was perched, watching over Kahlan's shoulder. "I'll do it."
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.
"I suppose you're right," Verna said.
Verna idly twiddled with a button on her blue dress as she studied the map. "Yes . . . I see what you mean."
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.
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"Thank you, Mother Confessor. It's good to be back."
Kahlan was relieved to see the young Galean officer. "How did everything go, Captain? How is everyone?"
"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."
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.
"No," Captain Ryan said. "We haven't had a chance yet."
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."
"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."
"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."
"Then some more, maybe half that number, are having breathing difficulty."
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."
"Captain Zimmer and I had the kind of success we hoped for. I'd guess we took out maybe ten thousand in the time we were down there."
Zedd let out a slow whistle. "Pretty heavy fighting."
Kahlan smiled. "I'm glad you were such a good student."
"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."
Zedd gestured to the south. "Did you find out why they withdrew so far back over ground they'd taken?"
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.
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."
"Let's hear what you have to report, Corporal Hayes."
"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."
"I followed them for a week, just to get an accurate count."
"Well over a quarter million, Mother Confessor."
"How many?" Verna asked.
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"Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered, "how many men does the Old World have to throw at us?"
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."
Warren cleared his throat. "That is just the first column of fresh troops. More are coming."
--]--- 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.
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.
Representative Theriault of Herjborgue was as good as his word. The white wool cloaks, hats, and mittens arrived weekly, helping hide the men who regularly went on missions, while the weather was in their favor, to attack the Imperial Order. With the sickness in the Order's camp leaving so many of them weak, along with so
many of the enemy having impaired vision, those missions were extraordinarily successful. Troops wearing the concealing cloaks were also sent to lie in wait and intercept any supply trains, hoping to neutralize the reinforcements before they could join with the enemy's main force.
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.
"Then why the long face?"
"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."
Zedd peered at her with one eye. "Then what are you doing here?"
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. . ."
"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.
"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."
"It will take continual effort to grind down the enemy's numbers. I think we
have yet to deal the Order a truly serious blow, but we will. The Sisters and I will come up with something. You never know in matters of this kind. It could be that we will suddenly do something that will send them reeling."
It was a question without the words, hoping he would surprise her with something that he had thought of to help get Richard back.
Kahlan could only nod.
Kahlan frowned over her shoulder. "Like what? You mean some kind of game, or something?"
"Well, I can't really think of-"
He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still holding the door lever, looking from Kahlan to Zedd and back again.
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."
"Vema, Warren," Zedd said in a honeyed voice, "come on in, won't you?"
"Well," Zedd drawled as he winked at Kahlan, "the Mother Confessor and I were just discussing the big event."
Even Warren, rarely given to scowling, was scowling now. "That's right. What big event?"
Both Verna and Warren's scowls evaporated as they straightened. They were overcome with surprised, silly, radiant grins.
"Really?" Verna asked.
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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.
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 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.
With over a hundred Sisters available, it was suggested that there could be dancing after the ceremony. The Sisters liked the idea, until they started doing the math and realized how many men there were to each woman, and how much dancing they would be doing. Still, they were titillated at the prospect of having attention lavished
on them at a dance, and approved the idea. Women centuries old were blushing like girls again at all the requests from men in their teens and twenties for the promise of a turn with them at the wedding dance.
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.
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.
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.
Kahlan folded the blanket under the foot of the straw-filled mattress as she watched Cara shut the door.
"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."
She didn't know what was more astonishing, actually seeing Cara with blue silk ribbon, or hearing her say "decorate" and "pretty" in the same breath. She smiled
to herself, happy to have heard such a thing. Zedd was more of a wizard than he knew.
"Where did you ever get all this ribbon, away?" Kahlan asked around a mouthful of pins.
Kahlan took the pins from her mouth. "Who?"
"Who did you say got you the ribbon?"
"You said Benjamin."
"Yes, you did. You said Benjamin."
"I never knew that General Meiffert's first name was Benjamin."
"Is `Benjamin' General Meiffert's first name?"
"You know it is."
--]--- 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.
Verna wore a rich violet dress done up with gold stitching at the square neckline.
The intricate gold needlework ran down the tight sleeves showing under slashed sham sleeves tied at the elbow with gold ribbon. The delicate smocking over the midriff extending in a funnel shape down into a gored skirt flaring nearly to the floor. Vema's wavy brown hair was festooned with blue, gold, and crimson flowers the sisters had made from little pieces of silk. With her serene smile, she made a beautiful sorceress bride standing beside the handsome blond groom in his violet wizard's robes.
"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?"
"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?
"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."
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.
The magical light dissolved from the bottom up until it was but a solitary star directly above them in an empty, late-afternoon sky.
When Vema and Warren parted, both wearing broad smiles, the crowd went wild. Cheers, along with hats, rose into the air.
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.
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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.
Cara nodded blissfully, carried away on the strains of music that was an old acquaintance to her,-and a exotic wonder to 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.
With one voice, the entire crowd repeated the prayer.
Heads as far as she could see bobbed in agreement.
The men cheered and hooted as they spread back to open up the central area. Musicians lined up along the benches at the sides.
"This is the best idea you ever had, wizard."
"Are you all right, dear one? I know this has to be hard."
A smile took him unexpectedly. "There you go again, Mother Confessor. Worrying about others."
"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."
Zedd lifted an eyebrow with playful delight. "What makes you think I can dance?"
Kahlan laughed. "Because there isn't anything you can't do."
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.
Kahlan couldn't help but to smile at his delight. "No, General Meiffert, I don't think I have."
Or a Mord-Sith.
"Well, of course, Mother Confessor," he stammered. "Anything. What is it I can do?"
"Dance?"
"But, I-that is, I don't know who. . ."
Cara's blue eyes shifted between Kahlan and the general. "Well, I don't see how-"
He scratched his temple. "That's right, Mother Confessor."
Cara cleared her throat. "Well, all right. For you, then, Mother Confessor."
Cara scowled back over her shoulder as a smiling Benjamin led her away.
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.
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"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."
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.
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.
"I'm proud of you, Mother Confessor. You gave a wonderful thing to these men."