st the  wall, watching the passing  throngs, when  a
face in the crowd caught her attention.
     Her eyes went wide as  she straightened. She could  hardly believe what
she was seeing. What was she doing in Altur'Rang?
     Nicci  didn't really want to find out-not  now, when  it seemed she was
getting  close to finding  her  answers. Matters seemed  to be at a critical
state with Richard. She felt sure that it would soon come to resolution.
     Nicci flipped her dark shawl up over her head of blond hair and tied it
snug under  her chin. She sank  back behind a wide woman and hugged the wall
as she peeked out between the people in line.
     Nicci watched Sister Alessandra, her nose held high  as her calculating
gaze swept the faces  of  all the people  on the  street. She looked like  a
mountain lion on the prowl.
     Nicci knew who Alessandra was hunting.
     Ordinarily, Nicci  would have been only too happy to  cross  paths with
the woman, but not now.
     Nicci sank back  against  the rough clapboards, staying low behind  the
people ahead of her, until Sister  Alessandra had vanished into the vast sea
of people crowding the street.


        CHAPTER 61

     As Kahlan rode out of her home city of Aydindril for the last time, she
pulled her wolf-fur  mantle up over her shoulders for protection against the
bitter wind. She recalled that  the last, time the weather had been about to
close in for the winter was  the last time she  had  seen Richard.  With the
world in such constant  turmoil and the battle burning hot, her thoughts, by
necessity, always seemed to be  on urgent matters. The unexpected memory  of
Richard was a welcome, if bittersweet, respite from the worries of war.
     She took  a last look before cresting  the hill, to see the splendor of
the Confessors' Palace on the distant rise. It made her ache with the  sense
of  home  whenever she saw the soaring white marble columns and rows of tall
windows.  Other  people were stricken with awe or  fear  at the sight of the
palace, but Kahlan's heart was always warmed by it.  She had grown up there,
and it was a place of many happy memories for her.
     "It won't be forever, Kahlan."
     Kahlan glanced over at Verna. "No, it won't."
     She wished she could believe that.
     "Besides," Verna  said,  offering a  smile,  "we  will be  denying  the
Imperial Order the people, and that  is what they are really after. The rest
is just stone  and  wood. What matters  stone  and wood,  if the  people are
safe?"
     Kahlan, despite her  desolate tears, was overcome with a smile. "You're
right, Verna. That really is all that matters. Thank you for reminding me."
     "Don't  worry, Mother Confessor," Cara said,  "Berdine and the rest  of
the MordSith, along with the troops, will watch over the people and see them
safely to D'Hara."
     Kahlan's smile widened.  "I  wish  I could  see Jagang's  face  when he
finally gets here next spring to be greeted by ghosts."
     The season of war was drawing to an end. If the summer with Richard  in
their mountain home  had  been a wonderful dream, then the summer of endless
warfare had been a nightmare.
     The  fighting had been desperate, intense, and bloody. There were times
when Kahlan  thought  she  and  the  army  could  not go on,  that they were
finished. Each of those times, they had managed to  pull through. There were
occasions when  she almost welcomed death, just to  have the  nightmare end,
just to stop seeing  people  in  agony  and  pain,  to  stop seeing  all the
precious lives in ruins.
     Against the seemingly indomitable  millions  of the Imperial Order, the
forces of the  D'Haran Empire  had managed to slow the enemy  enough to keep
them from taking Aydindril  this year. With  thousands  of lives lost in the
fighting, they had

     bought  the hundreds of  thousands  of people of  Aydindril  and  other
cities that lay along the path of the Order the time they needed to escape.
     As autumn  had turned bitter, the immense  force of the Imperial  Order
had reached  a broad valley at a convergence of the  Kern River and a  large
tributary,  where the lay  of  the land provided space to  accommodate their
entire force.  With winter closing in, Jagang knew better than  to be caught
unprepared.  They  had dug in while they had  the  opportunity.  The D'Haran
forces had set up their defensive lines to the north, bulwarking  the way to
Aydindril.
     Just  as Warren had  forecast, Aydindril  was more  than Jagang's  army
could take in this season of war. Jagang, once again, had proven his prudent
patience; he had chosen to preserve the viability of his army so he would be
able to press on successfully when conditions allowed. In the  short run, it
gave Kahlan and  her forces breathing room, but in the long  run,  it  would
spell their doom.
     Kahlan felt sweet relief that Warren's prediction, of Aydindril falling
the following year, at least would not be at the  cost of a slaughter of the
city's citizens. She didn't know  what  hardships the  people would  have to
endure escaping to D'Hara, but  it was  better than  the certain slavery and
widespread death of remaining behind in Aydindril.
     Some  people, she knew,  would  refuse to  leave. In  cities along  the
Order's  march up the Midlands, some people put  their faith in  "Jagang the
Just." Some people  believed  that the  good spirits, or  the Creator, would
watch over them no matter what. Kahlan knew they couldn't save everyone from
themselves. Those who  wished to live, and were willing to see reason, stood
a chance. Those who  saw only what  they wished to see, would, at the least,
fall under the pall of the Order's domination.
     Kahlan reached back and touched the hilt of the Sword of Truth sticking
up behind her shoulder.  It  was comforting,  sometimes, to  touch  it.  The
Confessors' Palace was no longer her home. Home was wherever Richard and she
were together.
     The  fighting  was  often so  intense, the fear so palpable, that there
were  timesdays at a stretch-when she never thought of  him.  Sometimes, she
had to devote all her  physical and mental  effort to just staying alive one
more day.
     Some  men,  feeling  the  war  was hopeless, had deserted. Kahlan could
understand the way they felt. All they ever did, it seemed, was to fight for
their  lives  against  overwhelming odds as they backed their way up through
the Midlands.
     Galea had fallen.  That  there  was  no word  from  any city  in  Galea
probably said it all.
     They had lost Kelton, too.  Many of the Keltans  in Winstead, Penverro,
and other cities  had fled,  first.  Most  of Kelton's army were still  with
them, though some had rushed home in desperation.
     Kahlan tried not to think too  long on everything  that had gone wrong,
lest she  give up. They had  saved a good many people-gotten them out of the
way of the Order. At least for  the time  being. It was the  best they could
do.
     Along the long retreat north, tens of thousands  of their joint  forces
had  lost their lives in  the fierce battles. The Order had  lost many times
that number. In  the high  summer heat, the Order had lost a quarter million
men to fever alone. It made little difference; they continued to grow and to
roll onward.
     Kahlan recalled  the things Richard had told her,  that they  could not
win,  that the New  World  was  going  to  fall to the Order,  and  if  they
resisted,  it would only cause greater bloodshed. She was reluctantly coming
to understand that hopeless outlook.

     She  feared  she  was  only  getting people killed to no  good end. Yet
giving up still was out of the question for her.
     Kahlan looked over  her shoulder, past the long column of men escorting
her,  past the  trees and  up the  mountain,  to the  great dark mass of the
Wizard's Keep looming up on the mountain overlooking Aydindril.
     --]----
     Zedd would have to  go there; they  could not stop  the Imperial  Order
from having Aydindril, but they dared not let them have the Keep.
     It was dusk, ten days later, when Kahlan and her company rode back into
the  D'Haran camp. It was obvious from  the first instant that something was
wrong. Men were running through camp, swords drawn. Others were rushing pole
weapons to the barricades. Men were donning leather  and chain  mail as they
ran to their posts. It was  a tense scene, but one  Kahlan had seen repeated
so often that it seemed almost routine.
     "I wonder  what this is all about,"  Verna said with a scowl. "I'll not
like it if Jagang spoils my dinner."
     Kahlan, not wearing her  leather armor, suddenly  felt  naked.  It  was
uncomfortable  to wear on long rides, so, going  through friendly territory,
she  had tied it to  her saddle.  Cara  moved close as they dismounted. They
handed the reins to soldiers as men closed in protectively.
     Kahlan couldn't remember what  color  cloth  would be used to mark  the
command tents. She had lost track of the  exact number of  days she had been
gone. It had  been  somewhat over a month. She took the arm  of  an  officer
among the men who had swept in around her.
     "Where are the commanders?"
     He pointed with his sword. "Down that way, Mother Confessor."
     "Do you know what's going on?"
     "No,  Mother Confessor. The  alarm sounded. As a Sister rushed  past, I
heard her say it was genuine."
     "Do  you  know  where  my  Sisters,  or Warren,  are?" Verna  asked the
officer.
     "I've seen Sisters  running around  everywhere, Prelate. I've not  seen
Wizard Warren."
     Darkness was settling in, leaving only the  fires to guide them through
camp.  Most of the fires,  though, had been doused at the alarm, so the camp
was becoming a black maze.
     Horses  with D'Haran riders  flashed  past, headed out on  patrol. Foot
soldiers  raced out of camp  to scout. No one seemed to know what the threat
was,  but  that  wasn't unusual. Besides being frequent  and varied, attacks
were usually confusing, in addition to being frightening.
     It was over an hour before Kahlan, Cara, Verna, and their heavy ring of
guards  made it through the sprawling camp  that was the size  of a city, to
the officers' tents. None of the officers were there.
     "This is a foolish way to go about it," Kahlan muttered. She  found her
tent,  with Spirit standing on the little table,  and tossed her  saddlebags
inside, along with her armor. "Let's just wait here so people can find us."
     "I agree," Verna said.

     Kahlan gestured to include a number of the group of men who had  set up
a  defensive guard around her.  "Spread out and find the officers. Tell them
that the  Mother Confessor and  the Prelate are  at the command tents. We'll
wait here for reports."
     "Tell any  Sisters you see,"  Verna added.  "And if you  see  Warren or
Zedd, tell them, too, that we've returned."
     The men raced off into the night to carry out their instructions.
     "I don't like this," Cara muttered.
     "I don't, either," Kahlan said as she stepped into her tent.
     Cara stood guard,  along with a small  army of men,  as Kahlan took off
her  fur mantle  and  slipped  on her leather  armor. It had saved  her from
taking wounds often  enough that she was not shy about wearing  it.  All  it
would take  was  one man to slip up close and thrust a  sword into  her, and
that might well be the end. If she got lucky, and they ran it through a leg,
or even her belly, she had a chance of being healed  by  a Sister, but if it
was in some  other  place-heart, head, some major artery so that the loss of
blood was too fast-then even the gifted wouldn't be able to heal her.
     The leather was extremely  tough, and  while not impervious to  blades,
spears,  or arrows, it afforded a good degree of  protection while  allowing
enough freedom of movement to  enable her to fight. A blow  with a blade had
to be landed just right, or it would glance harmlessly off the leather. Many
of the men wore chain mail, which afforded better protection, but it was too
heavy for  Kahlan to  be practical for her  to  wear. In  combat, speed  and
maneuverability were life.
     Kahlan  knew  better  than to risk her life  needlessly. She  was  more
valuable to their cause in her capacity as a  leader  than as  a  combatant.
Still, while  she rarely  went directly into combat, the fighting had  often
enough come to her.
     A sergeant finally arrived to give her a report.
     "Assassins" was all he said.
     That  one  chilling word was  enough.  It was what she had figured, and
explained the state of the camp.
     "How many casualties?" Kahlan asked.
     "I only  know for sure that one attacked Captain Zimmer. He was  eating
at a campfire with his men. The  captain managed to miss a killing blow, but
took a  nasty wound in  the leg. He's lost a lot of  blood. The surgeons are
seeing to him right now."
     "What about the assassin?" Verna asked.
     The sergeant looked surprised at the question. "Commander Zimmer killed
the assassin."  He screwed up his face with the distaste of the rest of what
he  had to say.  "The assassin was  dressed  in a D'Haran uniform. He walked
through the camp without notice until he  found  a target-Captain Zimmer-and
attacked."
     Verna  let  out a worried  breath. "A  Sister might  be  able help  the
captain."
     Kahlan  dismissed  him with a nod. The sergeant saluted with  a fist to
his heart before rushing off to his duties.
     It was then that Kahlan  spotted Zedd approaching.  The  front  of  his
robes  was wet  and  darkundoubtedly with blood.  Tears  ran down  his face.
Gooseflesh tingled up Kahlan's arms and legs.
     Verna  gasped  when  Zedd suddenly saw her and  for an instant faltered
before rushing toward them. Verna clutched Kahlan's arm.
     Zedd seized Verna's hand. "Hurry" was all he said.
     It was all he needed to say; they all understood.

     Verna  let out a  mournful  cry as  she was pulled along after the  old
wizard. Kahlan and  Cara ran behind as Zedd led them  on  a  winding  charge
through the confusion of shouting men, galloping horses, squads in formation
dashing in every direction, and unit officers taking roll call.
     The roll call was needed because the assassins were in D'Haran uniforms
so they could sneak  up close to their  quarry. It was necessary to  account
for every man in order to single out those who didn't belong. It was tedious
and difficult, but essential.
     They rushed into the  swirl  of  turmoil around the tents where wounded
men were being  treated. Men shouted orders as others brought in men  crying
out  in  pain, or men with  their limp  arms dragging the ground. Each  tent
could hold up to ten or twelve men.
     Verna's composure was frayed  with panic. Zedd stopped her, holding her
by her arms. His voice was choked with his emotion.
     "A man stabbed  Holly. Warren was nearby and tried to protect the girl.
Verna, I swear to  you on my dead wife's soul . . . I did everything I could
do.  Dear spirits forgive me, but I must be the one to tell you  . . . he is
beyond my power to help him. He asked for you and Kahlan."
     Kahlan stood in a stupor, her heart in her throat.  Zedd's  hand on her
back urged her to move quickly. She followed Verna, ducking into the tent.
     Half a dozen  dead men lay  at the far end  of the  tent,  covered with
blankets. Here and there a bloody hand stuck out from under a cover. One man
was missing a  boot. Kahlan stared, unable to make her mind  work, unable to
understand  how the soldier had lost  a boot. It  seemed so silly-dying  and
losing a boot. Tragedy and comedy together under a shroud.
     Warren lay on his  back on a pallet on the  ground. Sister Philippa was
on  the far side  of  him, her  tall  frame bent  over the youthful  wizard,
holding  his hand. Sister  Phoebe  was on  the near side, holding  his other
hand. Both women turned tearstained faces up to see Verna above them.
     "Warren," Sister  Philippa said,  "it's Verna. She's  here. And Kahlan,
too."
     The two Sisters quickly moved out of the  way  for  Verna and Kahlan to
take their places. They covered their mouths to hold in their cries  as they
fled the tent.
     Warren  was  as white as the stacks of clean bandages lying nearby. His
eyes were open wide  as he stared up . . . as if he could no longer see. His
curly blond hair was matted in sweat. His robes were soaked in blood.
     "Warren," Verna moaned. "Oh, Warren."
     "Verna? Kahlan?" he asked in a breathy whisper.
     "Yes, my love." Verna kissed his hand a dozen times.
     Kahlan squeezed his other limp hand. "I'm here, too, Warren."
     "I had to hold on. Till you both came back. To tell you both."
     "Tell us what, Warren?" Verna asked through her tears.
     "Kahlan . . ." he whispered.
     She leaned in. "I'm here, Warren. Don't try to talk, just-"
     "Listen to me."
     Kahlan pressed his hand to her cheek. "I'm listening, Warren."
     "Richard is right. His vision. I had to tell you."
     Kahlan didn't know what to say.
     A smile came to his ashen face. "Verna. . ."
     "What is it, my love?"

     "I love you. Always have."
     Verna could hardly get her words past her choking tears. "Warren, don't
die. Don't die. Please don't die."
     "Give me  a kiss,"  Warren whispered,  "while I still  live.  And don't
mourn what ends, but what a good life we've had. Kiss me, my love."
     Verna bent over him and  met his lips with  hers,  giving him a gentle,
loving kiss as her tears dripped onto his face.
     Unable to  bear the  scene, Kahlan  staggered out of  the tent, finding
Zedd's protective arms waiting. She hid her weeping against his shoulder.
     "What are we doing?" she cried. "What's it all for? What good is any of
it? We're losing everything."
     Zedd had no answer for her tears at the futility of it all.
     The minutes  dragged on. Kahlan forced herself to be strong, to be  the
Mother Confessor. She couldn't let the men see her giving up.
     Silent  men stood nearby, not wanting to look in the  direction of  the
tent where Warren lay dying.
     When  General  Meiffert materialized out of the darkness, the relief on
Cara's face was evident. He rushed up close to Cara, but didn't touch her.
     "I'm  glad  to see  you  safely returned," he said to  Kahlan.  "How is
Warren?"
     Kahlan couldn't speak.
     Zedd shook his head. "I didn't think  he would live  this long. I think
he held on so he could see his wife."
     The general nodded sorrowfully. "We caught the man who did it."
     Kahlan came to full attention. "Bring him to me," she growled.
     Without hesitation the  general hurried off to  retrieve the  assassin.
When Kahlan gestured, Cara went with him.
     "What did he  say to you?"  Zedd asked in a quiet voice  so that others
wouldn't hear. "He wanted to tell you something."
     Kahlan took a purging breath. "He said, `Richard is right.' "
     Zedd looked away in forlorn misery. Warren was his friend. Kahlan never
knew Zedd to take a  liking to anyone the  way he  had taken to Warren. They
shared things she  knew  she  could  never  understand.  Despite  his  young
appearance, Warren was over a hundred and fifty years old, close to the same
age as Verna. To Zedd, who was  always looked up to as the wise old  wizard,
it must  have been a particular comfort to  share wizardly matters with  one
who understood  such  things, instead of constantly  needing explanation and
direction.
     "He said the same to me," Zedd whispered tearfully.
     "Why didn't Warren use his gift?" Kahlan asked.
     Zedd wiped a finger across his cheek. "He was walking past, just as the
man seized and stabbed Holly. Perhaps the assassin couldn't find his target,
or  maybe he became lost and confused,  or  he could have just panicked  and
decided to stab someone and Holly was handy at that moment."
     Kahlan wiped her hands back across her cheeks. "Maybe he had been  told
to look for a wizard in such robes, and when he saw Warren, he stabbed Holly
to cause a commotion so he could get at Warren."
     "That  could  be. Warren doesn't  really  know.  It all happened  in an
instant. Warren was  right  there, and just reacted. I asked, but he  didn't
know why he didn't use his  power. Perhaps  in that  terrible  flash  of the
knife, he feared to kill Holly in the

     process, since  the man had her and was stabbing  her. His instinct  to
save her just caused him to snatch for the knife. It was a fatal mistake."
     "Maybe Warren simply hesitated before using his power."
     Zedd shrugged painfully. "A split-second hesitation has been the end of
a lot of wizards."
     "If  I  hadn't hesitated," Kahlan  said as she stared off  into  bitter
memories, "Nicci wouldn't have had me. She wouldn't have Richard, now."
     "Don't try to fix the past, dear one-it can't be done."
     "What about the future?"
     Zedd's gaze sought hers. "Meaning?"
     "Remember  at  the end of last winter, when we left camp-when the Order
began moving?"  When Zedd nodded, she went on. "Warren pointed at this place
on the map. He said we had to be here to stop the Order."
     "Are you suggesting he knew he would die here?"
     "You tell me."
     "I'm a wizard, not a prophet."
     "But Warren is." When he said nothing, Kahlan asked in a whisper, "What
about Holly?"
     "I don't  know.  I was just  arriving to talk  to Warren.  It had  just
happened. Soldiers were jumping the man. Warren  yelled orders for  them not
to  kill him.  I  guess  he  was thinking  the assassin might  have valuable
information. I  saw Holly, bleeding from her wounds, in shock. I immediately
had Warren brought in here and started to work on him. Sisters rushed in and
took Holly to another tent."
     Zedd's heartsick gaze sank to the cold ground. "I did everything I know
to do. It wasn't enough."
     Kahlan enclosed his shoulders protectively in her arm. "It  was  out of
your hands from the first, Zedd."
     It  was disorienting to see  her source of strength in a state of  such
painful  weakness. It  was irrational  to  expect  him to be unemotional and
strong in  such  circumstances,  but  it  was still  disconcerting. In  that
moment,  Kahlan was overcome  with a sense of all the loss Zedd had suffered
in his life; it was all there in his wet hazel eyes.
     Men made way for the returning General Meiffert and Cara.  Behind them,
two burly soldiers had a wiry young man-little more than  a  boy, really. He
was muscular, but no match for  the men  who  had him. His hair tumbled down
across a forehead above dark contemptuous eyes. He wore a proud sneer.
     "So," the lad said, trying to  sound tough, "I guess that in my service
to the Order I knifed someone important. That makes me a hero of the Order."
     "Make him  kneel before the  Mother  Confessor," General  Meiffert said
with quiet command.
     The two soldiers kicked the back of the young  man's knees to take  him
down. He snickered as he knelt before her.
     "So, you're the big  important whore  I've heard so much about. Too bad
you weren't around-I'd have  loved to have cut you. I  guess  I showed  some
people I'm pretty good with a knife."
     "So in my absence," Kahlan said, "you cut a child, instead."
     "Just for practice. I'd have  cut a lot more  people  if these big dumb
oxen wouldn't have lucked into jumping me.  But I still did my  duty  to the
Order and the Creator."

     It was the bravado of someone who knew he was about to pay the ultimate
price for  his  actions.  He was  trying  to  convince himself  that he  had
fulfilled a valuable service. He wanted to die a  hero, and then go straight
to the Creator for his reward in the afterlife.
     Verna emerged from the tent. There was  no hurry in her movements.  Her
face was  ashen and drawn. Kahlan  took hold of her arm,  ready  to help  if
Verna should need it.
     Verna stopped when she saw the young man on his knees.
     "This is him?" she asked.
     Kahlan put her other  hand tenderly to Verna's back,  silently offering
support.
     "This is him," Kahlan confirmed.
     "That's right."  The lad  sneered up at Verna. "I'm the one who  knifed
the enemy wizard. I'm a hero. The Order will bring relief and justice to the
people, and I helped do it. Your kind is always trying to keep us down."
     "Keep you down," Verna repeated in a dead tone.
     "Those who are born with all the luck and advantages-they never want to
share. I waited,  but  no one ever gave  me a chance in life until the Order
did. I'm a hero of downtrodden people everywhere. I've struck a blow against
the oppressors of mankind. I've helped bring justice to those  who are never
given a chance. I killed an evil man. I'm a hero!"
     The silence of everyone nearby was all the  more grim with the backdrop
of activity going on as men searched  the camp for other assassins. Officers
called out names,  getting  quick  replies. Troops  searching  for  invaders
trotted  through the  night,  their  chain mail  and  weapons  jingling like
thousands of tiny bells.
     The man on his knees grinned  at Verna.  "The Creator  will  give me my
reward in the next life. I'm not afraid to die. I've  earned eternity in his
everlasting Light."
     Verna passed her gaze among the eyes of all those gathered.
     "I don't care what you do to  him," she said,  "but I want to hear  his
screams the entire  night. I want  this camp to hear his  screams the entire
night.  I want  the  Order's scouts to  hear his  screams. That  will be  my
tribute to Warren."
     The young man licked his lips, realizing things weren't going as he had
expected.
     "That isn't fair!" the young assassin shouted in protest.
     Panic  began to  tremble through his body.  He  had been prepared for a
martyr's death, a quick end. This was something unforeseen.
     "He died quick. I should have the same consideration! This isn't fair!"
     "Fair? What isn't fair," Verna  said with terrible calmness,  "is  that
your  mother  ever  opened  her  legs  for  your   father.  We   shall   now
belatedly.correct her mistake. What isn't  fair is that a good and  kind man
died at the  hands of a sniveling little coward so lacking in sense that  he
is incapable of recognizing the lies he now spews out at us.
     "You wish to trade  your life  for the one you have taken? You wish  to
die  in a cause you foolishly believe to be noble? You shall have your wish,
young man.  But before you  die, you  shall fully understand what it is  you
have surrendered, how precious  is  your life, and  how utterly wasted.  You
shall come to regret your mother's act of creation as much as do we."
     Verna swept a look  of finality over the  group watching. "This  is  my
wish. Please see to its execution."
     Cara took a step  forward. "Let me do  it, then." Her grim face held no
hint of relish. "I would be best at carrying out your wish as you intend it,
Verna."

     The lad laughed hysterically.  "A woman? You  all think you're going to
have some big  blond bitch try to teach  me a lesson? You're all as crazy as
I've heard."
     Verna nodded. "I will be indebted to you,  Cara." She started to leave,
but paused.  "Don't  let him die before morning, when I will come to witness
it. I  wish  to look into his  eyes  and see  if this young man has  come to
understand  the  nature of  reality, and its  lack  of fairness,  before  he
forfeits his fife for nothing of worth and for his part in a great evil."
     "I  promise you,"  Cara said softly  to Verna, "that even  though  this
night will seem forever to you in  your grief, it will be infinitely  longer
for him."
     Verna simply touched Cara's shoulder in appreciation on her way past.
     After Verna had walked off into the darkness, Cara turned to Kahlan. "I
would ask  to use a tent. No  one should  have to see what I do to  him. His
screams will be knowledge enough."
     "As you wish."
     "Mother  Confessor!"  The  young man  struggled  frantically,  but  the
soldiers had him in a firm grip. "If you're so good as you  claim, then show
me mercy!"
     Drool  ran from the  corner  of  the boy's mouth  and hung swinging  in
rhythm with his panting.
     "But I have," Kahlan said. "I  am allowing you to suffer  the  sentence
Verna has named, and not the one I would impose."
     Cara  snapped her fingers and pointed at the young man  as she  marched
off. The soldiers dragged the shrieking boy after her.
     "The others we captured?" the general asked Kahlan.
     Kahlan started for her tent. "Cut their throats."


        CHAPTER 62

     Kwan sat  up when she realized that she didn't hear the distant screams
any longer.  It was still  hours till  dawn. Maybe  his  heart  had  stopped
unexpectedly.
     No, Cara was Mord-Sith, and was well trained in what Mord-Sith did.
     As  she  had  lain  fully  dressed   in  her  bed,  listening  to   the
bloodcurdling  screams,  aching  for   Verna,  missing   Warren,  sweat  had
occasionally beaded her brow whenever she thought about how Richard had once
been the one under a Mord-Sith's Agiel.
     To  banish the uninvited,  ghastly  images invading  her thoughts,  she
looked up at Spirit. The lamp hanging  from the ridgepole cast a  warm light
on the  carving,  stressing the graceful lines  of her  flowing  robes,  her
fisted hands,  her head thrown back.  No matter how many times Kahlan looked
at the statue, she never tired of it. Every time, it was a thrill.
     Richard had  chosen this view  of life over the terrible  bitterness he
could have fallen into. Clinging to  such bitterness would only have  robbed
him of his ability to experience happiness.
     Kahlan heard a  commotion outside. Just as she sprang to her feet, Cara
poked her head  in  through the flap Kahlan  had left open.  The Mord-Sith's
blue eyes were in a lethal rage.  She stepped into the tent, pulling the lad
behind by a fistful of his hair. He shook as he blinked frantically, blinded
by the blood in his eyes.
     Gritting  her  teeth, Cara shoved him. He fell  to the dirt at Kahlan's
feet.
     "What's this about?" Kahlan asked.
     The  look in  Cara's eyes revealed a woman at the edge of a feral fury,
at the edge of control, at the far-distant reaches of what it was to even be
human. She was treading the soil of another world: madness.
     Cara dropped  to  her  knees and seized the young man by the  hair. She
yanked  him back up and held him against her  red-leather-clad  body as  she
pressed  her Agiel to his throat. He choked and coughed. Blood  frothed from
his mouth.
     "Tell her," Cara growled.
     He held his hands out to the sides in  surrender.  "I know him! I  know
him!"
     Kahlan frowned down at the terrified young man. "You know who?"
     "Richard Cypher! I know Richard Cypher!-And his wife, Nicci."
     Kahlan felt as if the world crashed down around her. The weight of that
world sank her to her knees before Cara's charge.
     "What is your name?"
     "Gadi! I'm Gadi!"
     Cara pressed her Agiel into his back, causing him  to let loose a  wild
scream. She slammed his face to the ground.

     Kahlan held a hand out. "Cara, wait . . . we need to talk to him."
     "I know. I'm just making sure he wants to talk to us."
     Kahlan had never seen Cara  quite  like this, unleashed  this way. This
was more than doing as  Verna asked. This was personal to Cara.  Warren  had
been someone she liked, but worse for Gadi, Richard was Cara's life.
     The Mord-Sith pulled him  upright again. Red  bubbles  grew around  his
broken nose. When the light caught Cara just right,  Kahlan  could see blood
glistening on the red leather.
     "Now, I want you to tell the Mother Confessor everything."
     He was  nodding as  he  wept  and before Cara  had  even  completed the
command.
     "I  lived  there-where they came to live. I lived where Richard and his
wife-"
     "Nicci," Kahlan corrected.
     "Yes,  Nicci." He didn't understand what  she meant. "They came to live
in  a room  in our house. My friends and I didn't like  him. Then, Kamil and
Nabbi started talking to him. They started liking Richard. I was angry-"
     He fell to such  blubbering that he  couldn't finish. Kahlan seized his
jaw, slick with blood, and shook his face.
     "Talk! Or I'll have Cara start in again!"
     "I don't know what to say, what you want," he sobbed.
     "Everything  you know about him  and Nicci. Everything!" Kahlan  yelled
inches from his face.
     "Tell her  the rest of  it," Cara said in his ear as  she pulled him to
his feet.
     Kahlan followed him up, fearing to miss a precious word.
     "Richard started to get people to fix up the place. He works for Ishaq,
at the transport company. When he came  home at night, he would fix  things.
He showed Kamil and Nabbi how to fix things.
     "I hated him."
     "You hated him because he made things better?"
     "He made  Kamil and  Nabbi and others  think they could  do things  for
themselves,  when  they can't-people can't do for themselves. That's a cruel
deception.  People have to be helped by those with the ability.  It's  their
duty. Richard should have made things better, because he  could-he shouldn't
have made Kamil and Nabbi and the others think they could change their lives
for themselves. No one can do that. The people need help, not such heartless
and unfeeling expectations.
     "I found out Richard was  working at night. He  was hauling extra loads
for greedy people. He was making money he shouldn't be allowed to make.
     "Then, one night, I was sitting on the steps, and I heard Nicci get mad
at  Richard. She  came out to me on the steps and asked me to have sex  with
her. Women always  want me.  She was a whore-no better than the rest-despite
all her airs. She told  me that Richard wasn't  man  enough  to take care of
her, and she wanted me to have her because he wouldn't.
     "I  gave it to  her  good just the way she wanted it. I gave  it to the
whore good. I
     hurt her good, just like she deserved-"
     With all her strength,  Kahlan rammed  her  knee into  his  groin. Gadi
doubled over, unable to draw his breath. His eyes rolled up in  his head and
he went down hard.
     Cara smiled. "I thought you might like to hear that part."
     Kahlan wiped  the tears from her cheeks.  "It wasn't Richard. I knew it
wasn't Richard. It was this pig."

     Kahlan kicked him in the ribs as he started coming around. He let out a
cry.  She wagged  her fingers impatiently. Cara seized  him by  the hair and
yanked him to his feet.
     "Finish your story," Kahlan said with icy rage.
     He coughed and gagged and drooled. Cara had to steady him  on his feet.
She held his arms behind his back so he couldn't comfort his groin. The pain
was clearly evident in his contorted face.
     "Talk, or I'll do it again!"
     "Please! I was telling you when you stopped me."
     "Get on with it!"
     He  nodded  frantically. "When  I  was done  with the  whor-when I left
Nicci, Kamil and Nabbi were crazy."
     Kahlan lifted his chin. "What do you mean, they were crazy?"
     "They  were crazy angry because  I was  with Richard's wife.  They like
Richard, so they were crazy angry with me. They were going to  do things  to
me.  Hurt  me.  So, I decided  to go  into the army  to fight for  the Order
against the heathens, and. . ."
     Kahlan  waited.  She glanced  up  at Cara. The Mord-Sith did  something
behind Gadi's back that made him gasp in a cry.
     "And then I turned in Richard's name!"
     "You did what?"
     "I  turned  in his  name  before  I left. I told  the  city  guards  at
Protector Muksin's  office  that Richard  was doing criminal things, that he
was stealing work from working  people-that he was making more than his fair
share."
     Kahlan frowned. "What does  that  mean? What happens when you turn in a
name?"
     Gadi  was  trembling in terror. He clearly didn't want  to answer. Cara
pressed her Agiel against his side. Blood oozed down his sweat-soaked shirt.
He tried, but couldn't draw a breath. His ashen face began to turn purple.
     "Tell her," Cara said in cold command.
     Gadi  gasped  in a  breath  when she released  the pressure. "They will
arrest him. They will . . . make him . . . confess."
     "Confess?" Kahlan asked, fearing the answer.
     Gadi  nodded reluctantly. "They will  torture a confession out of  him,
most likely. They  might even hang his body from  a  pole and let  the birds
pick his bones if he confesses to something bad."
     Kahlan swayed on her feet.  She thought she  might throw  up. The world
had disintegrated into madness.
     She kicked  over  the map  basket and pawed through the  maps until she
found  the one she wanted. She pulled a pen and an ink bottle out  of  their
box, set the statue of Spirit on the ground, and spread the small map across
the table.
     "Come here,"  Kahlan ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing  to the
ground before  the table. She put the pen in his trembling  fingers after he
had shuffled close.
     Kahlan pointed at  the map.  "We  are here. Show me where you  traveled
with the Order."
     He  pointed.   "This  river.  I  came  up  from   the  Old  World  with
reinforcement troops, after some training. We joined the emperor's force and
we advanced up this river basin over the summer."
     Kahlan  pointed to the Old World. "Now,  I want you to mark  the  place
where you lived."

     "Altur'Rang. That's it, there."
     She watched him dip the pen and circle the dot and the name Altur'Rang,
far to the south-the heart of the Old World.
     "Now," she said, "mark the roads you came up in the Old World-including
any cities or towns you went through."
     Cara and Kahlan  both watched  Gadi mark roads and  circle a  number of
cities and towns. Warren and the Sisters were from the  Old World; they knew
a great deal  about the lay  of the land, enabling  them to provide detailed
maps.
     When he'd finished, Gadi looked up.
     Kahlan turned over the map. "Draw the city of Altur'Rang. I want to see
the major roads-anything you know of it."
     Gadi immediately set to drawing the  map for her. When he was finished,
he looked up again.
     "Now, show me where this room is where Richard lives."
     Gadi marked the map to indicate the place. "But I don't know if he will
be there. Lots of people turn in the names of people suspected of wrongdoing
against their fellow man. If  they take the name  and they  arrest him . . .
the Brothers  may order penance, or  they  could even question  him and then
order him put to death."
     "Brothers?" Kahlan asked.
     Gadi nodded. "Brother Narev and his disciples. They are the head of the
Fellowship of  Order.  Brother Narev  is  our  spiritual  guide. He  and the
brothers are the heart of the Order."
     "What do they look like?" Kahlan asked, her mind already racing ahead.
     "The brothers wear dark  brown  robes, with hoods. They are  simple men
who have given up  the  luxuries of  life to serve the wishes of the Creator
and the needs  of mankind.  Brother Narev is closer to the  Creator than any
man alive. He is mankind's savior."
     Gadi  was clearly awed by the man. Kahlan listened while Gadi  told her
everything he knew  about the Fellowship  of  Order, about the brothers, and
about Brother Narev.
     Gadi shook in the silence after he had finished. Kahlan wasn't watching
him, but staring off.
     "What did Richard look like,"  she  asked  in a distant voice. "Was  he
well? Did he look all right?"
     "Yes. He's big and strong. Foolish people like him."
     Kahlan spun around,  landing the heel of her  hand against  Gadi's face
hard enough to knock him from his feet.
     "Get him out of here," she told Cara.
     "But you must show me mercy, now! I told you what you want to know!" He
broke down in tears. "You must show me mercy!"
     "You have a job to finish," Kahlan said to Cara.
     --]----
     Kahlan pulled  the tent flap  back and  peeked in.  Sister Dulcinia was
snoring softly. Holly looked up.
     Tears filled the girl's eyes as she stretched out her arms  pleadingly.
Kahlan knelt beside the girl and bent over to hug her. Holly started crying.
     Sister Dulcinia woke with a snort. "Mother Confessor."

     Kahlan put a hand on the Sister's arm. "It's late. Why don't you go get
some sleep, Sister."
     Sister  Dulcinia smiled her agreement and then grunted with  the effort
of struggling to her feet in the low tent. In the distance, on the far  side
of the camp, Kahlan could hear Gadi's bloodcurdling screams.
     Kahlan smoothed the downy hair from Holly's brow and kissed her  there.
"How are you, sweetheart? Are you all right?"
     "Oh, Mother Confessor, it was awful. Wizard Warren got hurt. I saw it