ely indispensable.
     "The people came to  feel that this new threat--the pristinely ungifted
trait spreading  through the population--would be the end of everything they
knew, everything that  they thought was important,  that it would be the end
of their most vital protection--magic."
     Richard gazed out  at all the faces,  waiting to make sure that the men
had grasped the essence of the story, that they understood how desperate the
people must have been, and why.
     "So, what did the  people do about these new pristinely ungifted people
among them?" a man in the back asked.
     In a quiet tone, Richard said, "Something terrible."
     He pulled the  book from a leather pouch on his belt and held it up for
all the men to  see as  he  again paced before them.  The clouds, laden with
storms of snow, rolled silently through  the  frigid valley pass, bound  for
the peaks above them.
     "This book  is called The Pillars of  Creation. That's what the wizards
back  then  called these pristinely ungifted people--pillars  of  Creation--
because they had the power,  with this trait that they passed along to their
offspring, to alter  the very nature of mankind. They were the foundation of
an entirely new kind of people--people without any connection to magic.
     "I only just a short time ago came across this book. It's meant for the
Lord  Rahl,  and  others, so  that  they will  know  about these  pristinely
ungifted people who are  unaffected by  magic. The book tells the history of
how these people came about--through those born to the Lord Rahl--along with
the  history of  what was discovered  about them. It  also reveals  what the
people  back  then, thousands  of  years ago,  did  about  these pillars  of
Creation."
     Men rubbed their arms in  the cold air as  Richard slowly  paced before
them. They all looked caught up in the story.
     "So," Owen asked, "what did they do?"
     Richard came to a stop and stood watching their eyes before he spoke.
     "They banished them."
     Astonished whispering  broke  out among the  men. They were stunned  to
hear the final solution. These people understood banishment, they understood
it all too well,  and they could sympathize with these banished people of so
long ago.
     "That's terrible," a man in front said, shaking his head.
     Another frowned and held up a hand. "Weren't these pillars of  Creation
related to some of the other people? Weren't they part  of the towns? Didn't
the people feel sorrow at banishing these ungifted people?"
     Richard  nodded.  "Yes. They were friends  and  family. Those  banished
people were intimately intertwined in the lives of nearly everyone. The book
tells  how  heavy hearted the  people  felt at the  decision  that had  been
reached about these pristinely ungifted people.  It  must have been an awful
time, a dreadful choice that no one  liked, but  those in charge at the time
decided that in order for them to  preserve  their way  of life, to preserve
magic and all  it meant to them,  to preserve that  attribute of man, rather
than value the lives of individuals for  who  they were, they  had to banish
these pristinely ungifted people.
     "What's  more, they  also decreed that all future offspring of the Lord
Rahl,  except his gifted heir, should be put to  death  to  insure  that  no
pillar of Creation ever again came among them."
     This time there was no whispering. The men looked saddened by the story
of these mysterious people and the  terrible  solution of  how to deal  with
them. Heads hung as the men  thought about  what it must have been like back
in such a grim time.
     Finally, a man's head came up. His brow twitched.  He finally asked the
question Richard expected to be asked, the question he had been waiting for.
     "But where were these pillars of Creation  banished to? Where were they
sent?"
     Richard watched  the  men  as  other eyes turned up,  curious about the
historic mystery, waiting for him to go on.
     "These people were not affected by magic," Richard reminded  them. "And
the barrier holding back the Old World was a barrier created of magic."
     "They sent them through the barrier!" a man guessed aloud.
     Richard nodded. "Many wizards had died  and given their power into that
barrier so that their  people would be protected from those in the Old World
who wanted to rule them and  to end magic. That was a large part of what the
war  had  been fought over--those in the  Old World had  wanted to eradicate
magic from mankind.
     "So, those  people  in the  New World  sent  these pristinely  ungifted
people,  these  people  without  any magic,  through the barrier  to the Old
World.
     "They  never knew what  became of  them, those friends and  family  and
loved  ones they had banished, because they had been sent  beyond  a barrier
that none of them could cross. It was thought that they would  establish new
lives, would make a new beginning.  But, because the barrier  was there, and
it was enemy territory beyond, the people  of the New World never knew  what
became of those banished people.
     "Finally, a  few years  ago, that barrier  came down. If these banished
people had made a life for themselves in the Old World, they  would have had
children and  spread their  pristinely ungifted  attribute"-- Richard lifted
his arms  in a shrug--"but  there is no trace of them. The people down  here
are just the  same as the people up in  the New World--some born  gifted but
all  born  with  at least that tiny spark  of the  gift that enables them to
interact with magic.
     "Those people from ancient times seemed just to have vanished."
     "So now we know," Owen reasoned as he stared off in  thought, "that all
those  people sent to the Old World  so long ago  tragically  died out... or
maybe were killed."
     "I had thought as much myself,"  Richard said. He  turned and faced the
men, waiting until all eyes were on him before going on.
     "But then I found them. I found those long-lost people."
     Excited  whispering  broke out  again. The men appeared inspired by the
prospect of such people surviving against all odds.
     "Where are they, then, Lord Rahl," a man asked, "these people with whom
you share ancestry? These people who had to endure such cruel banishment and
hardship?"
     Richard leveled  a cutting gaze at  the men. "Come with  me, and I will
tell you what became of these people."
     Richard led them around the statue, to the front, where, for the  first
time, they could see  the  full view of the sentinel  in stone. The men were
awestruck at finally seeing the statue from the front. They talked excitedly
among themselves about how real it looked, about how  they could clearly see
the stalwart features of the man's face.
     By the utter  shock in their  voices  and by  what the men were saying,
Richard got the distinct impression that they'd never seen  a statue before,
at least no statue as monumental as this one. It appeared that for these men
the statue must  be something akin to a manifestation of magic, rather than,
as Richard knew it to be, a manifestation of man's ability.
     Richard  placed a hand  on  the  cold stone  of the base.  "This  is an
ancient statue  of  an Old World wizard named  Kaja-Rang.  It was carved, in
part, as a tribute to the man because he was a great and powerful wizard."
     Owen lifted a hand to  interrupt. "But  I thought the people in the Old
World wanted to be  without magic? Why would  they  have a great wizard--and
why, especially, would they pay a tribute to such a man of magic?"
     Richard smiled at Owen catching the contradiction. "People don't always
act  in  a consistent  manner.  What's  more,  the more  irrational are your
beliefs, the more glaring the inconsistencies. You men, for example, try  to
gloss over  incongruities in  your  behavior  by  applying your  convictions
selectively. You claim that nothing is real, or that we cannot know the true
nature of reality, and yet you  fear what the Order does to you--you believe
firmly enough in the reality of what they're doing that you want it to stop.
     "If nothing were real, then you would have  no reason to want  to  stop
the Imperial  Order. In fact, it's counter to your professed beliefs  to try
to stop  them,  or  to even feel  that  their  presence is  real,  much less
detrimental, since you assert that man is inadequate at the  task of knowing
reality.
     "Yet you grasp  the reality of what's happening at the hands of the men
of  the Order, and know  very  well that it's abhorrent,  so you selectively
suspend the precepts  of your  beliefs in order to send Owen to poison me in
an attempt to get me to rid you of your very real problem."
     Some  of  the  men looked  confused  by what Richard  said while others
looked to  be embarrassed. A  few looked astonished. None  looked willing to
challenge him, so they let him go on without interrupting.
     "The people  in  the Old World  were the same way--they still are. They
claimed they didn't want  magic,  and yet when faced with that reality, they
didn't want to do without it. The  Imperial Order is like this. They've come
to  the New World claiming to  be  a  champion  of freeing mankind of magic,
proclaiming themselves to be noble for holding such a goal, and yet they use
magic  in  the pursuit of this professed  goal. They  contend  that magic is
evil, and yet they embrace it.
     "Their leader, Emperor Jagang, uses those with magic to help accomplish
his ends, among  which, he claims,  is the eradication of magic. Jagang is a
dream walker descended from those dream walkers of so long ago.  His ability
as a dream walker  is magic, yet he does not disqualify himself from leading
his empire. Even though he has magic, which he claims makes  people unfit to
have any say in the future, he calls himself Jagang the Just.
     "Despite what they declare they  believe, their goal is to rule people,
plain and simple. They  seek power but  dress it up in noble-sounding robes.
Every tyrant thinks he is different. They are all the same. They all rule by
brute force."
     Owen was  frowning, trying to grasp it all. "So, those in the Old World
did not  live by their word, by what they  claimed they believed. They lived
in  conflict. They  preached  that man  was better  without magic,  but they
continued to want to use magic."
     "That's right."
     Owen gestured up  at  the  statue.  "What of this man,  then? Why is he
here, if he is against what they preached?"
     Dark clouds roiled above the towering  statue. The still air hung cold,
heavy, and damp. It felt  as  if a storm were  holding  back its  onslaught,
waiting to hear the rest.
     "This man is here because he fought to save the people of the Old World
from something they feared more than magic itself," Richard said.
     He gazed  up at the resolute face  with its eyes  fixed forever on  the
place called the Pillars of Creation.
     "This  man,"  Richard said in a quiet  voice, "this wizard,  Kaja-Rang,
collected  all  of  those  pristinely  ungifted  people,  those  pillars  of
Creation, who had been banished down here from the New World, along with any
people who while they lived here had joined  with them, and he sent them all
there."
     Richard pointed off into the distance behind the statue.
     "He put all those people in that place, protected by the mountains  all
around, and then he  placed  a boundary of  death  before  them, across this
pass, so that they could never again  come out to be among the  rest  of the
people of the world.
     "Kaja-Rang  gave  these  people  their  name: the  Bandakar.  The name,
bandakar,  is from a  very old language  called High D'Haran. It  means 'the
banished.' This man, Kaja-Rang,  is the one who sealed them in and saved his
people from the pristinely ungifted, from those without magic."
     "You,"  Richard  said  to  the men before him, "are  the descendants of
those banished people. You are  the descendants of Alric Rahl, of the people
sent into  exile in the Old  World.  You are all descendants of the House of
Rahl.  Your ancestors  and mine  are  the same  men.  You  are  the banished
people."
     The top of the pass before the statue of Kaja-Rang was dead silent. The
men stared in shock.
     And then pandemonium broke out. Richard made no effort to stop them, to
bring them to be quiet. Rather, he stood close beside Kahlan as he  let them
take it in. He wanted to give them the time they needed to come to grasp the
enormity of what he had told them.
     Arms  in the air,  some men cried  out with the outrage at  what they'd
heard, others wailed with the horror of the story, some wept in sorrow, many
argued,  a few  protested various  points  that  others answered,  while yet
others repeated key elements to one another almost  as if to hear the  words
again so they could test them, agreeing finally  that it  might very well be
so.
     But through it all, they all slowly began to grasp the enormity of what
they'd  heard. They  all began  to hear  the  ring of  truth in  the  story.
Chattering  like  magpies, all talking  at once,  they expressed  disbelief,
outrage, wonder, and even  fear, as they  came to the heady comprehension of
who they really were.
     At the whispered  urging  of some  among the group, after having gotten
over the initial shock, the men  all quieted  and  at  last turned  back  to
Richard, hungry to know more.
     "You are this gifted  man, the favored  heir, the Lord Rahl, and we are
the ones banished by your kind," one of the men said, expressing what looked
to be a common fear, the unspoken question of what this would mean for them.
     "That's right,"  Richard said. "I am the Lord Rahl, the  leader of  the
D'Haran  Empire, and you are the descendants  of the pillars of Creation who
were banished. I am gifted as have been my ancestors, every Lord Rahl before
me. You are ungifted as were your ancestors."
     Standing before the statue of Kaja-Rang, the man who had banished them,
Richard looked out at all the tense faces.
     "That banishment was a grievous wrong. It was immoral. As Lord  Rahl, I
denounce the banishment and declare it  forever ended. You are no longer the
Empire of  Bandakar, the banished ones, you are now once again, as you  once
were, D'Harans, if you choose to be."
     Every man seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if he  meant it, or
would add more, or if he might even recant it.
     Richard put his arm around Kahlan's waist as he calmly gazed out at all
the hopeful expressions.
     Richard smiled. "Welcome home."
     And then  they were all falling  at  his feet,  kissing  his boots, his
pants, his hands,  and, for those  who couldn't crowd  in  close enough, the
ground before him. In  short  order,  they were  kissing the hem of Kahlan's
dress.
     They had found a relation, and were in turn welcoming him among them.





        CHAPTER 42





     As the men crowded around  their feet, openly offering  their gratitude
for ending their sentence  of banishment, Richard  shared a sidelong  glance
with Kahlan. Cara looked decidedly  displeased  by  the  display  but didn't
interfere.
     Trying to bring a halt to the tearful tribute, Richard gestured for the
men to get up. "There is much more to tell you. Listen to me, now."
     The smiling, tearful men drew  back, hands  clasped while gazing at him
as  if  he were a  long-lost brother. There  were a few older men  among the
crowd and  some of  middle age, but most  ranged from young, like Owen, to a
little older, like Richard. They were all men who  had been through terrible
times.
     The most difficult part still lay ahead; Richard had to make them  face
up to what was to come.
     Looking over  at Jennsen, standing  alone off  to the side, he gestured
for her to come forward.
     Jennsen emerged from the shadows of the statue, catching  the attention
of all eyes  as she made  her  way  toward Richard. The men  all watched her
coming into the light. She  looked  so beautiful that  Richard couldn't help
smiling as she stepped across  the rocks. Pulling on a red ringlet, she cast
a shy glance at the men.
     When Richard held an arm out, she sought  protection under the  shelter
of  that arm  as she gazed  nervously out at men who were  like her  in  one
important way.
     "This  is  my  sister,  Jennsen  Rahl,"  Richard  said.  "She was  born
pris-tinely ungifted, just like all of you. Our father tried to kill her, as
has been done for thousands of years with ungifted offspring."
     "And you?" a man asked, still skeptical. "You will not reject her?"
     Richard hugged  Jennsen with  the  one  arm. "For  what? For what crime
should I reject her? Because she was born a woman, instead of a man like me?
Because  she isn't as tall as me? Because she has  red hair, instead of hair
like mine?  Because  her  eyes  are  blue  and not gray? ... Because  she is
ungifted?"
     The men  shifted their weight  to the other foot or folded  their arms.
Some, after all he had already said, averted their eyes, looking embarrassed
to have even asked the question.
     "She's beautiful, smart, and  uses  her  head. She, too, fights for her
right  to live, and does so through  reasoned  means.  She  is  as  you men,
pristinely ungifted.  Because she shares  an understanding  of  the value of
life, I embrace her."
     Richard heard the bleat and turned.  Betty, her rope  trailing  behind,
trotted  up the rise. Jennsen rolled  her eyes as Betty came  close, peering
up, her tail wagging in a blur.
     Jennsen  snatched up the  rope,  inspecting the end. Richard  could see
that it had been chewed through.
     "Betty," she  scolded, shaking the  end of the rope  at the unrepentant
goat, "what did you do?"
     Betty bleated her answer, clearly proud of herself.
     Jennsen heaved a sigh as she shrugged an apology at Richard.
     The men had  all taken several steps back, murmuring their dread to one
another.
     "I'm not a witch," Jennsen told them in a heated tone.  "Just because I
have red hair that doesn't mean I'm a witch."
     The men looked thoroughly unconvinced.
     "I've had dealings with a very real witch woman," Richard told them. "I
can assure you, red hair is no mark of a witch. It just isn't true."
     "It is true," one of the men insisted.  He pointed  at Betty. "There is
her attendant spirit."
     Richard's brow wrinkled. "Attendant spirit?"
     "That's right," another told him.  "A  witch always has a familiar with
her. She called her attendant spirit and it came to her."
     "Called her?" Jennsen brandished the frayed end of the rope at the men.
"I tied her to a tree and she chewed through her rope."
     Another man shook his finger at her. "You called her with magic and she
came."
     Fists at her sides, Jennsen  took a step  toward the  men. They took  a
collective step back.
     "You men all had family and friends--a  community of  people.  I had no
friends and could  have  none because  my  mother and  I  had to run from my
father  my whole life to keep from being caught. He would  have tortured and
murdered me  had he  caught me--the  same as he would have done with  you. I
could have no childhood friends,  so my mother gave me Betty. Betty was just
newborn; we grew up together. Betty chewed  through her rope because I'm the
only family she's ever known and she simply wanted to be close to me.
     "I was banished  from  everyone  for my crime of birth, just  like your
ancestors. You all know the injustice of  such banishment and  you  know its
pain. And now you foolish men would banish me from your acceptance because I
have red hair and a goat as a pet? You are spineless cowards and hypocrites!
     "First you poison  the only person in the world brave enough to end our
banishment  from  the rest of mankind  and  now  you fear  me  and reject me
because of silly superstitions. If I did have magic,  I'd burn you all  to a
cinder for your cruel attitudes!"
     Richard  put a hand on her shoulder and drew her back. "It will be  all
right," he whispered to her. "Just let me talk to them."
     "You tell  us that you're  a wizard," an older man  in the back  called
out, "and  then you expect us to  believe it's so--on faith--because you say
it is,  while you claim that we should  not hold to our beliefs, such as our
fear that she could  be a witch with her familiar, because it's held only on
faith."
     "That's right," another said. "You claim your belief is  in real magic,
while you dismiss our belief. A lot of what you say makes sense, but I don't
agree with all of it."
     There could be no partial agreement. To reject part of the truth was to
reject it all. Richard considered his options, how he could  convince people
without magic, who could not see magic, that real magic existed.  From their
perspective, he  seemed guilty  of the same error  he  was telling them they
were making. How could he demonstrate a rainbow of color to the blind?
     "You have a point," Richard said. "Give me a moment and I will show you
the reality of the magic I talk about."
     He  motioned Cara  closer. "Get me  the warning  beacon," he  said in a
confidential tone.
     Cara immediately took  off down the hill.  He saw that  Jennsen's angry
blue eyes were filled with tears but she didn't cry. Kahlan  pulled her back
farther as Richard addressed the men.
     "There is more I must tell  you--some things you  need to understand. I
have ended  the banishment,  but that does  not mean that  I unconditionally
accept you back as one of our people."
     "But you said that we were welcomed home," Owen said.
     "I'm stating the  obvious--that you  have a right to your own life. Out
of goodwill I  welcome  you all to  be part of D'Hara if you  wish-- part of
what D'Hara  now stands for. But by welcoming you back,  that  does not mean
that I welcome people unconditionally.
     "All men should be free to live their own lives,  but make  no mistake,
there is a vast difference between that freedom and anarchy.
     "If we triumph in our struggle,  you are welcome to be free people of a
D'Haran Empire which holds a belief in specific values. For example, you can
think whatever  you wish and  try to  persuade  others of the value of  your
beliefs, but  you cannot  act  on a view  that those  who fight to gain that
freedom are savages or criminals, even though you expect to enjoy the fruits
of their struggle. At minimum, they  have earned your respect and gratitude.
Their lives are no less than yours and are not expendable for  your benefit.
That is slavery."
     "But  you have savage  ways and engage  in violence for a  land we have
never even seen," one of the younger men said. He pointed an arm back toward
Bandakar.  "The only land we have ever  known is here and we unconditionally
reject your love of violence."
     "Land?" Richard spread  his arms.  "We do  not fight for  land.  We are
loyal to an ideal--an ideal of liberty wherever man lives.  We do not  guard
territory,  bleed  for  a piece  of  dirt. We  don't fight because  we  love
violence. We fight  for our freedom as individuals to live our own lives, to
pursue our own survival, our own happiness.
     "Your  unconditional rejection of  violence  makes  you smugly think of
yourselves  as noble, as enlightened, but in reality it is nothing less than
abject moral capitulation to evil. Unconditional rejection of  self-defense,
because you think  it's a  supposed  surrender to  violence, leaves  you  no
resort but begging for mercy or offering appeasement.
     "Evil grants no mercy, and to attempt to  appease  it  is  nothing more
than a  piecemeal  surrender to it. Surrender  to evil is slavery  at  best,
death at  worst.  Thus, your unconditional rejection  of violence is  really
nothing more than embracing death as preferable to life.
     "You will achieve what you embrace.
     "The right,  the absolute necessity, of vengeance  against  anyone  who
initiates force  against you is  fundamental to survival. The morality of  a
people's self-defense is in its defense of each individual's right  to life.
It's an intolerance of violence, made real  by an unwavering willingness  to
crush  any  who   would  launch  violence  against  you.  The  unconditional
determination to destroy  any  who would initiate force against  you  is  an
exaltation of the value of life. Refusing to surrender your life to any thug
or tyrant who lays claim to it is in fact embracing life itself.
     "If you are  unwilling to defend your right to your own lives, then you
are merely like mice trying to  argue  with  owls.  You think their ways are
wrong. They think you are dinner.
     "The  Imperial  Order  preaches that mankind is corrupt  and  evil, and
therefore  life is of little  value. Their actions  certainly bear this out.
They  moralize  that you can only win  salvation and happiness in some other
world, and then only by sacrificing your life in this one.
     "Generosity is fine, if it's by  your free choice, but a belief in  the
primacy of  self-sacrifice  as a  moral requisite is nothing  less  than the
sanctioning of  slavery. Those who tell you that it  is  your responsibility
and  duty  to  sacrifice are trying to  blind you  to the  chains  they  are
slipping around your neck.
     "As  D'Harans,  you will  not  be required  to sacrifice  your life  to
another,  and by  the same token  you cannot  demand  that others  sacrifice
themselves to you. You may believe as you  wish, you may even feel that  you
cannot take up arms and  fight directly  for our survival, but you must help
support  our cause and  you may not contribute materially  or spiritually to
the destruction of our values and therefore our lives-- that is treason  and
will be treated as such.
     "The Imperial Order has  violently invaded innocent  lands, like yours.
They  have enslaved, tortured,  raped,  and murdered in order to seize rule.
They have done no less in the New World. They have  forfeited their right to
be heard. There  is no moral  dilemma involved,  no ethical question open to
debate; they must be ground into dust."
     A  man stepped forward. "But common decency in dealing  with our fellow
man requkes that we must show them mercy for their misguided ways."
     "There  is no greater  value than life--and that's  what you  partially
recognize  by  your  confused  notion  of granting mercy.  Their  conscious,
deliberate act of murder takes the irreplaceable value of life from another.
A murderer,  by his own choice to kill,  forfeits the right to his own life.
Mercy for  such  evil is nothing short of excusing it and thus allowing evil
to  prevail--it  codifies  the taking  of  innocent life  by not  making the
murderer forfeit their own guilty life.
     "Mercy grants  value to the life  of a killer, while, at the same time,
it strips away the value  of the life of the  innocent  victim. It makes the
life of a  killer more  important than the life of an innocent. It is thus a
trade of the good to the evil. It is the victory of death over life."
     "So," Owen  wondered aloud,  "because the Order has attacked your  land
and  murdered its  people, you intend to try to kill every living person  in
the Old World?"
     "No. The  Order is evil and from the Old World. That does not mean that
the people of the Old World are evil simply because they happen to have been
born  on a patch  of  ground ruled by evil men.  Some actively support these
rulers and therefore embrace evil, but not everyone does. Many of the people
in the Old World are also the victims  of the rule of the Imperial Order and
suffer greatly under its brutality. Many struggle against this evil rule. As
we  speak,  many risk  their lives to  rid  themselves of these evil men. We
fight for the same thing: liberty.
     "Where those  who seek liberty  were born  is irrelevant. We believe in
the value of the individual's life. That means that where someone lives does
not make them evil--it's their beliefs and actions that matter.
     "But make  no mistake--many people  are  an active part of the Imperial
Order and its murderous ways. Actions must have consequences. The Order must
be eradicated."
     "Surely, you would allow some compromise," one of the older men said.
     "If, hoping  to appease it,  you willingly compromise with  unrepentant
evil, you only allow such evil to sink its  fangs into you; from that day on
its venom will course through your veins until it finally kills you."
     "But that's  too  harsh  a sentiment," the man said. "It's  just  being
stubborn and  obstructing a constructive  path.  There  is  always  room for
compromise."
     Richard tapped his thumb against his chest. "You men decided to give me
poison. That poison will kill me; that  makes it evil. How would you suggest
I compromise with poison?"
     No one had an answer.
     "In trade  between willing  parties who share moral values and who deal
fairly and honestly with one another, compromise  over something like  price
is legitimate. In matters of morality or truth, there can be no compromise.
     "Compromising  with  murderers,  which  is  precisely   what  you   are
suggesting, grants  them moral  equivalence where none can rightfully exist.
Moral equivalence says that you  are  no better than  they; therefore, their
belief--that they should be able to torture, rape,  or murder you--  is just
as morally valid as your view--that you have the right to live free of their
violence. Moral compromise  rejects the concept of right and wrong.  It says
that everyone is equal, all desires are equally valid, all action is equally
valid, so everyone should compromise to get along.
     "Where could you  compromise  with those  who torture, rape, and murder
people? In the number of days a week you will  be tortured? In the number of
men to be allowed to rape your loved ones? In how many of your family are to
be murdered?
     "No moral  equivalence exists in that  situation,  nor can it exist, so
there can be no compromise, only suicide.
     "To even suggest compromise  can exist  with such  men  is  to sanction
murder."
     Most of the men appeared shocked and startled to hear  someone speaking
to them in such  a straightforward manner. They seemed to be losing interest
in  their  supply of  empty  adages.  Some of the men looked  to be moved by
Richard's words. A few  even looked inspired by their clarity; he could  see
it in their eyes, as if they were seeing things for the first time.
     Cara came  up behind Richard and handed him the warning beacon. Richard
wasn't sure, but it seemed as if the inky black had taken  over more of  the
surface  of the  small figure than the  last time he'd seen it. Inside,  the
sand continued to trickle down onto the accumulated pile in the bottom.
     "Kaja-Rang placed the boundary across this pass to seal your people in.
He is the one  who  named  you. He knew your  people shunned violence and he
feared  you might end up being prey to criminals. He is the one who gave you
a way  to banish them  from your land so that you could continue to have the
kind of  life  you  wanted. He told  your people of the  passage through the
boundary so  that you could rid  yourselves of criminals if you  rallied the
will."
     Owen looked troubled. "If this great wizard, Kaja-Rang, didn't want our
people among the population of the Old World because we would mix  with them
and spread  our pristinely ungifted  trait, as you call  it, then what about
the criminals we  banish? Sending those  men out into the world  would cause
the thing they feared. Making this pass through the boundary and telling our
ancestors about it would seem to defeat the whole purpose of the boundary."
     Richard  smiled. "Very  good,  Owen. You  are  beginning  to  think for
yourself."
     Owen smiled. Richard gestured up at the statue of Kaja-Rang.
     "You  see where  he's  looking?  It's  a place  called  the  Pillars of
Creation. It's a deathly  hot place where  nothing  lives--a land stalked by
death. The  boundary that Kaja-Rang placed  had sides  to it.  When you sent
people out of  your  land, through the  boundary,  the walls of death to the
sides prevented those banished people from escaping into the world at large.
They had only one way they could go: the Pillars of Creation.
     "Even with  water and  supplies,  and knowing where you  must go to get
past it, trying to go through the valley known as the Pillars of Creation is
almost certain death. Without water and supplies,  without knowing the land,
without  knowing how  to travel it and where you  must go to escape  such  a
place, those you banished faced certain death."
     The men stared, wide-eyed. "Then, when we banished a  criminal, we were
actually executing them," one of the men said.
     "That's right."
     "This Kaja-Rang tricked us, then," the man added. "Tricked us into what
was actually the killing of those men."
     "You think  that  a  terrible trick?"  Richard  asked. "You people were
deliberately  setting  known  criminals  loose  on  the  world  to  prey  on
unsuspecting  people.  You  were  knowingly setting  free  violent  men, and
condemning unsuspecting  people outside your land to be victims of violence.
Rather than put murderers to death, you were,  as far  as you knew-- had you
given it any thought--knowingly assisting  them  in going on to kill others.
In the blind attempt to avoid violence at all cost, you actually  championed
it.
     "You told  yourselves  that those other people  didn't  matter, because
they weren't enlightened, like  you, that you  were better than they because
you were above violence, that  you unconditionally rejected violence. If you
even thought about it, you considered these people beyond the boundary to be
savages,  their lives  unimportant.  For all  intents and purposes, you were
sacrificing their innocent lives for the lives of those  men  you knew to be
evil.
     "What Kaja-Rang was doing, besides keeping the pristinely ungifted from
being  at  large in the  world, was executing those  criminals you  banished
before they could harm other people. You think yourselves noble in rejecting
violence, but your actions would have fostered it. Only Kaja-Rang's  actions
prevented it."
     "Dear Creator. It  is  far worse than  that." Owen  sank  down, sitting
heavily. "Far worse than you even realize."
     Other men, too, looked to be  stricken with  horror. Some had  to lower
themselves to  the ground  as Owen had. Others, their  faces in their hands,
turned away, or walked off a few paces.
     "What do you mean?" Richard asked.
     Owen looked up,  his face ashen. "The story I told you  about our  land
... about our town and the other great cities? How in  my town  we all lived
together and were happy with our lives?" Richard nodded. "Not all were."
     Kahlan crossed her arms and leaned toward Owen. "What do  you mean, not
all were?"
     Owen lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "Some wanted more than our
simple joyful life. Some people ... well, they wanted to change things. They
said they  wanted to make things better. They wanted to improve our life, to
build places for themselves, even though this is against our ways."
     "Owen is right," an older man said in a grim  tone. "In my time  I have
seen a great many of these people who were unable to endure what some called
the chafing principles of our empire."
     "And what happened when people wanted  to  make these changes, or could
not endure the principles of your empire?" Richard asked.
     Owen looked to each side, to the  other  dispirited  faces.  "The great
speakers  renounced  their  ideas. The Wise One  said  they would only bring
strife among us. Their hopes for new ways were  turned  aside and  they were
denounced."  Owen  swallowed.  "So these people  decided  they  would  leave
Bandakar. They went out of our land, taking the path through  the opening in
the boundary, to  find  a  new life  for themselves. Not a  single  one ever
returned to us."
     Richard wiped a hand across his face. "Then they died looking for their
new life, a better life than what you had to offer."
     "But you  don't  understand." Owen rose to his feet. "We are like those
people." He swept his  arm back  at his men. "We have refused to go back and
give ourselves over to the men of the Order, even though we know that people
are being tortured  because we hide.  We know it will not stop the Order, so
we don't go back.
     "We have gone  against the wishes of  our great speakers,  and the Wise
One, to try to save our people. We have been denounced for what we choose to
do. We have gone out of the pass to  seek information,  to find a way to rid
ourselves of the Imperial  Order. Do you see?  We are much the same as those
others throughout our history. Like those others,  we chose to leave and try
to change things rather than to endure the way things were."
     "Then perhaps you are beginning to see," Richard said, "that everything
you were taught showed you only how to embrace  death, not life. Perhaps you
see  that what you called the  teaching  of enlightenment was  no  more than
blinders pulled over your eyes."
     Richard put his hand on Owen's shoulder. He gazed down at the statue of
himself in his other hand and then looked around at the tense faces.
     "You  men are the  ones left after all the rest have failed  the tests.
You  alone got this far. You  alone have started to use your minds to try to
find  a solution for  you and your loved ones.  You have much more to learn,
but you have  at least started to make some  of the right choices. You  must
not stop now; you must meet with courage what I will call upon you to do, if
you are to truly have a chance to save your loved ones."
     For the first time they looked at  least a little proud. They had  been
recognized, not  for how well they repeated meaningless sayings, but for the
decisions they reached on their own.
     Jennsen was frowning in thought. "Richard, why couldn't people get back
in through the  passage  out through the boundary?  If they wanted to go off
and have a new life but then discovered that  they would have to  go through
the  Pillars  of  Creation,  why wouldn't  they  go back,  at least  to  get
supplies, to get what they needed so they could make it through?"
     "That's right,"  Kahlan said.  "George Cypher went through the boundary
at Kings'  Port and then returned. Adie said that the boundary had to have a
passage, a vent, like where these people banished criminals, so why couldn't
people come back in? There was a pass out, so why did they never return?"
     The men nodded, curious to hear why no one ever came back.
     "From the first, I've wondered the same thing." Richard rubbed a  thumb
along the glossy  black surface of the statue of himself. "I  think that the
boundaries in the Midlands had to have an  opening through them because they
were so big--so  long. This boundary,  here, is nothing compared to those; I
doubt that the same kind of vent would be needed.
     "Because it was  just one bent section of a boundary and not very long,
I suspect that Kaja-Rang was able to put in a pass that allowed criminals to
be banished through it, but would not allow passage back in. After all, if a
criminal  was  banished and  found  he  couldn't  escape,  he would  return.
Kaja-Rang wouldn't have wanted that to happen."
     "How could such a thing work?" Jennsen asked.
     Richard rested his  left hand on the hilt of his sword. "Certain snakes
can swallow prey much larger than themselves. Their teeth are angled back so
that  as the prey  is devoured, it's impossible  for it to come back out, to
escape. I suppose that the pass through the boundary could have been somehow
like that--only able to be traversed in one direction."
     "Do you think such a thing is possible?" Jennsen asked.
     "There is precedent for such safeguards," Kahlan said.
     Richard nodded his agreement.  "The great  barrier between the  New and
the  Old  World  had  defenses  to  allow  certain  people,  under  specific
conditions, one passage  through  and  back, but  not two."  He  pointed the
warning  beacon  up at  the statue.  "A wizard of Kaja-Rang's ability  would
surely have known  how to craft  a pass through  the  boundary that  did not
allow any  return. After all, he  called it up  out of the underworld itself
and it remained viable for nearly three thousand years."
     "So then anyone who went out of this boundary died," Owen said.
     Richard  nodded.  "I'm  afraid  so. Kaja-Rang  appeared  to  have  made
elaborate plans that functioned  as he intended for all this time.  He  even
made contingencies should t