he boundary fail." "That's something I don't understand," a young man said. "If this wizard was so great, and his magic was so powerful that he could make a wall of death to keep us separated from the world for three thousand years, then how could it possibly fail? In the last two years it simply went away. Why?" "I believe it was because of me," Kahlan said. She took a step closer to the men. Richard didn't try to stop her. At this point, it wouldn't do to appear as if he were withholding information from them. "A couple of years ago, in a desperate act to save Richard's life, I inadvertently called forth underworld power that I believe may be slowly destroying magic in our world. Richard banished this evil magic, but it had been here in the world of life for a time, so the effects may be irreversible." Worried looks passed among the men. This woman before them had just admitted that because of something she'd done, their protection had failed. Because of her, horrifying violence and brutality had befallen them. Because of her, their way of life had ended. CHAPTER 43 You still have not shown us your magic," one of the men finally said. Richard's hand slipped away from the small of Kahlan's back as he stepped toward the men. "Kaja-Rang devised a facet to his magic, linked to the boundary he placed here, to help protect it." Richard held up the small figure of himself for all the men to see. "This was sent to warn me that the boundary to your land had failed." "Why is the top part of it that strange black?" asked a man standing in the front. "I believe that it's an indication of how I'm running out of time, how I may be dying." Worried whispering swept through the group of men. Richard held up a hand, urging them to listen to him as he went on. "This sand inside--can you all see this sand?" Stretching their necks, they all tried to get a look, but not all were close enough, so Richard walked among them, holding up the statue so that they could all see that it looked like him, and see the sand falling inside. "This is not really sand," he told them. "It's magic." Owen's face twisted with skepticism. "But you said we couldn't see magic." "You are all pristinely ungifted and aren't touched by magic, so you can't see regular magic. The boundary, however, still prevented you from going out into the world, didn't it? Why do you suppose that was so?" "It was a wall of death," an older man spoke up, seeming to think that it was self-evident. "But how could it harm people who are not affected by magic? Going into the boundary itself meant death for you the same as anyone else. Why? "Because the boundary is a place in this world where the underworld also existed. The underworld is the world of the dead. You may be ungifted, but you are mortal; since you are linked to life, so, too, are you linked to death." Richard again held the statue up. "This magic, as well, is tied to the underworld. Since you are all mortal, you have a connection to the underworld, to the Keeper's power, to death. That's why you can see the sand that shows how my time trickles away." "I don't see anything magical about sand trickling down," a man grumbled. "Just because you say it's magic, or that it's your life trickling away, that doesn't seem to prove anything." Richard turned the statue sideways. The sand continued to flow, but sideways. Gasps and astonished whispering broke out among the men as they watched the sand flowing laterally. They crowded in close like curious children to see the statue as Richard held it up, on its side, so they could see magic. Some reached out and tentatively touched the inky black surface as Richard held the figure of himself out for them to inspect. Others leaned close, peering in to see the sand flowing askew in the lower part, where the figure was still transparent. The men spoke of what a wonder it was, but they weren't sure about his explanation of underworld magic. "But we all see this," one of the men said. "This doesn't show us that we're really different from you or anyone else, as you say we are. This shows us only that we are all able to see this magic, the same as you. Maybe we aren't this pristinely ungifted people you seem to think we are." Richard thought about it a moment, thought about what he could do to show them the true aspects of magic. Even though he was gifted, he didn't know a great deal about controlling his own gift, except that it was in part powered by anger linked to need. He couldn't simply demonstrate some bit of magic the way Zedd could, and besides, even if he could do something magical, they wouldn't be able to see it. Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw Cara standing with her arms folded. An idea came to him. "The bond between the Lord Rahl and his people is a bond of magic," Richard said. "That same magic powers other things, besides the protection that the bond affords against the dream walker." Richard gestured for Cara to come forward. "In addition to being my friend, Cara is also a Mord-Sith. For thousands of years Mord-Sith have been fierce protectors of the Lord Rahl." Richard lifted Cara's arm for the men to see the red rod hanging from the fine gold chain at her wrist. "This is an Agiel, the weapon of a Mord-Sith. The Agiel is powered by a Mord-Sith's connection to the Lord Rahl--to me." "But it has no blade on it," a man said as he looked closely at the Agiel swinging on the end of the gold chain. "It has nothing of any use as a weapon." "Take a closer look at it," Richard suggested as he held Cara's elbow and guided her forward, among the men. "Look at it closely to satisfy yourself that what this man has observed, that it has no blade, that it is nothing more than this slender rod, is true." The men leaned in close as Cara walked among them, holding her arm up, letting the men touch and inspect her Agiel as it dangled from its chain. When they had all had a look, inspecting the length of it, looking at the end, hefting it to see that it wasn't heavy and couldn't really be used as a club, Richard told Cara to touch it to the men. The Agiel spun up into her fist. Men flinched back at the grim look on her face as she came at them with the thing that Richard had told them was a weapon. Cara touched her Agiel to Owen's shoulder. "She touched me with this red rod before," he assured his men. "It does nothing." Cara pressed the Agiel to every man close enough for her to reach. A few cringed back, fearful of being harmed, even though it had harmed none of their fellows. Many of the men, though, felt the touch of her Agiel and were satisfied that there was no ill effect. Richard rolled up his sleeve. "Now, I will show you that this really is a powerful weapon of magic." He held his arm out to Cara. "Draw blood," he said in a calm voice that did not betray what he really thought of being touched by an Agiel. Cara stared at him. "Lord Rahl, I don't--" "Do it," Richard commanded as he held his arm out. "Here," Tom said, thrusting his bared arm in front of her. "Do it to me, instead." Cara immediately saw this as a preferable test. "No!" Jennsen objected, but too late. Tom cried out as Cara touched the end of her Agiel to his arm. He staggered back a step, a trickle of blood running down his arm. The men stared, unsure what they were seeing. "It must be a trick of some kind," one suggested. As Jennsen comforted Tom, Richard held his arm out again. "Show them," he told Cara. "Show them what a Mord-Sith's Agiel can do with magic alone." Cara looked into his eyes. "Lord Rahl..." "Do it. Show them, so they understand." He turned to the men. "Gather around closer so you can see that it does its terrible task with no visible means. Watch closely so that you can all see that it's magic alone doing its grisly work." Richard clenched his fist as he held the inside of his arm up for her to touch. "Do it so that they can clearly see what it will do; otherwise it will be for nothing. Don't make me do this for nothing." Cara pressed her lips tight with the displeasure of his command. She looked once more at the resolve in his eyes. When she did, he could see in her blue eyes the pain it gave her to hold the Agiel. He clenched his teeth and nodded that he was ready. With an iron visage, she laid the Agiel against the inside of his forearm. It felt like lightning hit him. The touch of the Agiel was out of all proportion to what it would appear it should feel like. The thunderous jolt of pain shot up his arm. The shock of it slammed into his shoulder. It felt like the bones in his entire arm shattered. Teeth gritted, he held his trembling arm out as Cara slowly dragged the Agiel down toward his wrist. Blood-filled blisters rose in its wake. Blood gushed down his arm. Richard held his breath, kept his abdominal muscles tight, as he went to one knee, not because he intended to, but because he couldn't remain standing under the weight of pain as he held his arm up for Cara as she pressed the Agiel to it. The men gasped as they watched, shocked at the blood, the obvious pain. They whispered their astonishment. Cara withdrew the weapon. Richard released the rigid tension in his muscles, bending forward as he panted, trying to catch his breath, trying to remain upright. Blood dripped off his fingers. Kahlan was there beside him with a small scarf Jennsen pulled from a pocket. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed heatedly as she wrapped his bleeding arm. "Thanks," he said in response to her care, not wanting to address her question. He couldn't make his fingers stop trembling. Cara had held little back. He was sure that she hadn't broken any bones, but it felt as if she had. He could feel tears of pain running down his face. When Kahlan finished, Cara put a hand under his arm and helped him to his feet. "The Mother Confessor is right," she growled under her breath. "You are out of your mind." Richard didn't argue the need of what he'd had her do, but instead turned to the men. He held his arm out. A wet crimson stain slowly grew along the length of the scarf bandage. "There is powerful magic for you. You can't see the magic, but you can see the results. That magic can kill, should Cara wish it." The men cast worried glances her way, viewing her with newfound respect. "But it could not harm you men because you have no ability to interact with such magic. Only those born with the spark of the gift can feel the touch of an Agiel." The mood had changed. The sight of blood had sobered everyone. Richard paced slowly before the men. "I've given you the truth in all that I've told you. I've kept nothing important or relevant from you, nor will I. I've told you who I am, who you are, and how we've come to this point. If there is anything you wish to know, I will give you my truthful answer." When Richard paused, the men looked around at one another, seeing if anyone would ask a question. No one did. "The time has come," Richard said, "for you men to decide your future and the future of your loved ones. Today is the day upon which that future hinges." Richard gestured toward Owen. "I know that Owen had a woman he loved, Marilee, who was taken away by the Order. I know that each of you has suffered great loss at the hands of the men of the Imperial Order. I don't know all your names, yet, or the names of the loved ones taken from you, but please believe me when I tell you that I know such pain. "While I understand how you came to the point where you thought you had no options but to poison me, it wasn't right for you to have done so." Many men looked away from Richard's gaze, casting their own downward. "I'm going to give you a chance to set the proper course for yourselves and your loved ones." He let them consider this a moment before going on. "You men have passed many tests to make it this far, to have survived this long in such a brutal situation as you have all faced, but now you must make a choice." Richard rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I want to know where you've hidden the antidote to the poison you've given me." Worried looks spread through the crowd. Men glanced to the side, trying to judge the feelings of their fellows, trying to see what they would do. Owen, too, tried to gauge the reaction of his friends, but being just as uncertain as he, they offered no firm indication of what they wanted to do. Finally he licked his lips and timidly asked a question. "If we say that we will tell you where the antidote is, will you agree to first give us your word that you will help us?" Richard resumed his measured pacing. The men nervously waited for his answer as they watched blood drip off his fingers, leaving a trail of crimson drops on the stone. "No," Richard said. "I will not allow you to link two separate issues. It was wrong to poison me. This is your chance to reverse that wrong. Linking it to any concession perpetuates the fallacy that it can somehow be justified. Telling me where you've hidden the antidote is the only proper thing for you to do, now, and must be without condition. This is the day you must decide how you will live your future. Until you give me your decision, I will tell you nothing more." Some of the men looked on the verge of panic, some on the verge of tears. Owen prodded them all back, away from Richard, so that they could discuss it among themselves. "No," Richard said, his pacing coming to a halt. The men all fell silent and turned back toward him. "I don't want any of you coming to a decision because of what another says. I want each of you to give me your own personal decision." The men stared. A number spoke up all at once, wanting to know what he meant. "I want to know, without any preconditions, what each individual chooses to do--to free me of the poison, or to use it as a threat on my life to gain my cooperation. I want to know each man's choice." "But we must reach a consensus," one man said. "For what purpose?" Richard asked. "In order for our decision to be correct," he explained. "No proper decision about the right course of action in any important situation can be made without a consensus." "You are attempting to give moral authority to mob rule," Richard said. "But a consensus points to the proper moral judgment," another man insisted, "because it is the will of the people." "I see," Richard said. "So what you're saying is that if all of you men decide to rape my sister, here, then it's a moral act because you have a consensus to rape her, and if I oppose you, I'm immoral for standing alone and failing to have a consensus behind me. That about the way you men see it?" The men shrank back in confused revulsion. One spoke up. "Well... no, not exactly--" "Right and wrong are not the product of consensus," Richard said, cutting him off. "You are trying to make a virtue of mob rule. Rational moral choices are based on the value of life, not a consensus. A consensus can't make the sun rise at midnight, nor can it change a wrong into a right, or the other way around. If something is wrong, it matters not if a thousand other men are for it; you must still oppose it. If something is just, no amount of popular outcry should stay you from your course. "I'll not hear any more of this empty gibberish about a consensus. You are not a flock of geese; you are men. I will know the mind of each of you." He gestured to the ground at their feet. "Everyone, pick up two pebbles." Richard watched as the bewildered men hesitantly bent and did his bidding. "Now," Richard said, "you will put either one or both pebbles in a closed fist. Each of you will come up to me, to the man you poisoned, and you will open your fist so that I can see your decision but the others can't. "One pebble will mean no, you will not tell me where the antidote is located unless I first pledge to try to free your people. Two pebbles in your one fist will mean yes, you agree to tell me, without any precondition, where to find the antidote to the poison you've given me." "But what will happen if we agree to tell you?" one of the men asked. "Will you still give us our freedom?" Richard shrugged. "After each of you has given me your answer, you will all find out mine. If you tell me the location of the antidote, I may help you, or once I'm free of your poison, I may leave you and return to taking care of my own urgent problems. You will only find out after you've given me your answer. "Now, turn away from your friends and put either one pebble in your fist for no or two pebbles to agree to reveal the location of the poison. When you've finished, come forward one at a time and open your hand to show me your own individual decision." The men milled around, casting sidelong glances at one another, but as he'd instructed, they refrained from discussing the matter. Each man finally set about privately slipping pebbles into his fist. As the men were occupied, Cara and Kahlan moved in close around Richard. It looked like the two of them had been reaching conclusions of their own. Cara seized his arm. "Are you crazy?" she whispered in an angry tone. "You've both already asked me that today." "Lord Rahl, need I remind you that you once before called for a vote and it only got you into trouble? You said you would not do such a foolish thing again." "Cara is right," Kahlan argued in a low voice so the men couldn't hear. "This time is different." "It's not different," Cara snapped. "It's trouble." "It's different," he insisted. "I've told them what's right and why; now they must decide if they will choose to do the right thing or not." "You're allowing others to decide your future," Kahlan said. "You're placing your fate in their hands." Richard let out a deep breath as he gazed into Kahlan's green eyes and then the icy blue eyes of the Mord-Sith. "I have to do this. Now, let them come up and show me their decision." Cara stormed off to stand back by the statue of Kaja-Rang. Kahlan gave his arm a squeeze, offering her silent support, accepting his decision even if she didn't understand his reasons. A brief smile of appreciation was all he could manage before she turned and walked back to stand by Cara, Jennsen, and Tom. Richard turned away, not wanting to let Kahlan see how much pain he was in. The ache from the poison was slowly creeping back up his chest. Every breath hurt. His arm still trembled with the lingering ache of being touched by an Agiel. The worst, though, was the headache. He wondered if Cara could see it in his eyes. After all, the business of Mord-Sith was pain. He knew he couldn't wait until after helping these men fight off the Order before getting the antidote to the poison. He had no idea how to rid their empire of the Imperial Order. He couldn't even rid his own empire of the invaders. Worse, though, he could feel that he was running out of time. His gift was giving him the headaches and, if not attended to, would eventually kill him, but worse, it was weakening him, allowing the poison to work faster. With each passing day he was having more and more difficulty working past the poison. If he could get these men to agree to do this, to tell him where they'd hidden the antidote, then he might be able to recover it in time. If not, then his chance to live was as good as over. CHAPTER 44 The men milled around the top of the pass, some staring off into their own thoughts, some gazing up at the statue of Kaja-Rang, the man who had banished their people. Some of the men snatched glimpses at their companions. Richard could see that they were aching to ask friends what they would do, but they kept to Richard's orders and didn't speak. Finally, when Richard stepped up before them, one of the younger men came forward. He had been one of the men eager to hear Richard's words. He'd looked as if he had listened carefully and considered the things Richard had told them. Richard knew that if this man said no, then there was no chance that any of the others would agree. When the young, blond-headed man opened his fist, two pebbles lay in his palm. Richard let out an inner sigh that at least one of the men had actually chosen to do the right thing. Another man came forward and opened his fist, showing two pebbles sitting in his palm. Richard nodded in acknowledgment, without showing any reaction, and let him move aside. The rest of the men had lined up. Each stepped forward in turn and silently opened his hand. Each showed him two pebbles, showing that he would recant their death threat, and then moved off so that the next man could show his choice. Owen was the last in line. He looked up at Richard, pressed his lips tight, and then thrust out his hand. "You have done us no harm," he said as he opened his fist. There in his palm lay two pebbles. "I don't know what will happen to us, now," Owen said, "but I can see that we must not cause you harm because we are desperate for your help." Richard nodded. "Thank you." The sincerity in his voice brought smiles to many of the faces watching. "You have all showed two pebbles. I'm encouraged that you've all chosen to do the right thing. We now have common ground upon which to find a future course." The men looked around one another in surprise. They each cheerfully gathered in close to their friends, talking excitedly to one another about how they had all made the same decision. They looked gleeful that they were united in their decision. Richard moved back to where Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, and Tom stood. "Satisfied?" he asked Kahlan and Cara. Cara folded her arms. "What would you have done had they all chosen to keep the antidote's location a secret until after you helped them?" Richard shrugged. "I'd be no better off than I was, but no worse off, either. I'd have to help them, but at least I would know that I dare not trust any of them." Kahlan still didn't look pleased. "And what if most of them would have said yes, but some stuck to their ways and said no?" Richard looked into her resolute green eyes. "Then, after the ones who agreed had told me where to find the antidote, I would have had to kill those who said no." Understanding the seriousness of his explanation, Kahlan nodded. Cara smiled her satisfaction. Jennsen looked shocked. "If any would have said no," he explained to Jennsen, "then they would have been choosing to continue to enslave me, to hold a sentence of death over my head in order to manipulate my life to get what they wanted from me. I would never be able to trust them in what I must ask the rest of them to do. I couldn't trust our lives to such treachery. But, now, that's one less problem we have to worry about." Richard turned to the waiting men. "Each of you has decided to return my life to me." The faces watching him turned serious as they waited to hear what he would do now. Richard gazed down at the small figure of himself, at the sand trickling down, at the eerie black surface that had already descended over the top of the statue, like the underworld itself slowly claiming his life. His fingers left smears of blood across the surface of the figure. The clouds had lowered in around them, thickening so that the afternoon light seemed more like the gloom of dusk. Richard lowered the statue and looked back up at the men. "We will do our best to see if we can help you get rid of the Order." A cheer rose into the thin, cold air. The men hooted their excitement as well as their relief. He hadn't yet seen any of them smile quite this broadly before. Those smiles, more than anything, revealed the depth of their wish to be free of the men of the Order. Richard wondered how they would feel about it when he finally told them their part. He knew that as long as Nicholas the Slide was able to seek them out through the eyes of the races, he would remain a threat that would haunt them wherever they went and endangered all of their work to get the Old World to rise up and overthrow the Imperial Order. More than that, though, Nicholas would be able to direct killers to find them. The thought of Nicholas seeing Kahlan and knowing where to find her gave Richard chills. He had to eliminate Nicholas. It was possible that in doing so, in eliminating their leader, he would also help these people drive the Order from their homes. Richard gestured for the men to gather in closer. "First, before we get to the matter of freeing your people, you need to show me where you've hidden the poison." Owen squatted down and selected a stone from nearby. With it, he scratched a chalky oval on the face of a flat spot in the rock. "Say that this line is the mountains surrounding Bandakar." He set the stone at the end of the oval closest to Richard. "Then this is the pass into our land, where we are now." He plucked three pebbles from the ground. "This is our town, With-erton, where we lived," he said as he set the first pebble down not far from the rock that represented the pass. "There is antidote there." "And this is where all of you men were hiding?" Richard asked as he circled a finger over the first pebble. "In the hills surrounding With-erton?" "Mostly to the south," Owen said, pointing to the area. He placed the second pebble near the middle of the oval. "Here there is another vial of antidote, in this city, here, called Hawton." He placed the third pebble near the edge of the oval. "Here is the third vial, in this city, Northwick." "So then," Richard summed up, "I just need to go to one of those three places and recover the antidote. Since your town is the smallest, that would probably be our best chance." Some of the men shook their heads; others looked away. Owen, looking troubled, touched each of the three pebbles. "I'm sorry, Lord Rahl, but one of these is not enough. Too much time has passed. Even two will be insufficient by now. The man who made the poison said that if too much time passed, all four would be necessary to insure a remedy. "He said that if you did not immediately take the first antidote I brought, then it would only halt the poison for a while. He said that then the other three vials would all be needed. He said that in this case, the poison would possibly go through three states. If you are to be free of the poison, you must drink all of the three remaining antidotes. If you don't, you will die." "Three states? What does that mean?" "The first state will be pain in your chest. The second state will be dizziness that makes standing difficult." Owen looked away from Richard's gaze. "In the third state the poison makes you blind." He looked up and touched a hand to Richard's arm, as if to dispel his worry. "But taking three vials of the antidote will cure you, make you well." Richard wiped a weary hand across his brow. The pain in his chest told him that he was in the poison's first state. "How much time do I have?" Owen looked down as he straightened his sleeve. "I'm not sure, Lord Rahl. We have already taken a lot of time traveling this far since you had that first vial. I think we have no time to lose." "How much time?" Richard asked in as calm a voice as he could manage. Owen swallowed. "To be truthful, Lord Rahl, I'm surprised that you are able to stand the pain from the first state of the poison. From what I was told, the pain would grow as time passed." Richard simply nodded. He didn't look up at Kahlan. With soldiers of the Imperial Order occupying Bandakar, getting in to recover the antidote from one place sounded difficult enough, but retrieving it from all three places sounded beyond difficult. "Well, since time is short, I have a better idea," Richard said. "Make me more of the antidote. Then we won't have to worry about getting what you've hidden and we can simply worry about how best to take on the men of the Order." Owen shrugged one shoulder. "We can't." "Why not?" Richard leaned in. "You made it before--you made the antidote that you hid. Make it again." Owen shrank back. "We can't." Richard took a patient breath. "Why not?" Owen pointed off at the small bag he'd brought, now lying to the side--the bag containing the fingers of three girls. "The father of those girls was the man who made the poison and made the antidote. He is the only one among us who knew how to make such complex things with herbs. We don't know how--we don't even know many of the ingredients he used. "There may be others in the cities who could make an antidote, but we don't know who they are, or if they are still alive. With men of the Order in those places we wouldn't even be able to find these people. Even if we could, we don't know what was used to make up the poison, so they would not know how to make an antidote. The only chance you have to live is to recover the three vials of antidote." Richard's head was hurting so much that he didn't know if he could stand much longer. With only three vials in existence, and all three needed if he was to live, he had to get to them before anything happened to any one of them. Someone could find one and throw it out. They could be moved. They could be broken, the antidote draining away into the ground. With every breath, he felt stitches of pain pull inside his chest. Panic gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. When Kahlan rested her hand on his shoulder, Richard laid a grateful hand over hers. "We will help you get the antidote, Lord Rahl," one of the men said. Another nodded. "That's right. We will help you get it." The men all spoke up, then, saying that they would all help to get the antidote so that Richard could rid himself of the poison. "Most of us have been to at least two of these places," Owen said. "Some of us have been to all three. I hid the antidote, but I told the others the places, so we all know where it is. We know where we have to get in to recover it. We will tell you, too." "Then that's what we'll do." Richard squatted down as he studied the stone map. "Where is Nicholas?" Owen leaned in and tapped the pebble in the center. "Here, in Haw-ton, is this man Nicholas." Richard looked up at Owen. "Don't tell me. You hid the antidote in the building where you saw Nicholas." Owen shrugged self-consciously. "At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Now, I wish I had thought better of it." Standing behind Richard, Cara rolled her eyes in disgust. "I'm surprised you didn't hand it to Nicholas and ask him to hold on to it for you." Appearing eager to change the subject, Owen pointed at the pebble representing Northwick. "In this city is where the Wise One is hiding. Maybe we can get help from the great speakers. Maybe the Wise One will give us his blessing and then people will help us in our effort to rid our land of the Imperial Order." After all he'd learned about the people who lived beyond the boundary in Bandakar, Richard didn't think he could count on any meaningful help from them; they wanted to be free of marauding brutes, but condemned their only real means to be free. These men had at least proven a degree of resolve. These men would have to work to change other people's attitudes, but Richard had his doubts that they would garner much immediate help. In order to accomplish what you men rightfully want--to eradicate the Order, or at least make them leave your homes--you are going to have to help. Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, Tom, and I aren't going to be able to do it alone. If it's to work, you men must help us." "What is it you wish us to do?" Owen asked. "We already said we will take you to these places where the antidote is hidden. What more can we do?" "You are going to have to help us kill the men of the Order." Instantly, heated protests erupted. All of the men talked at once, shaking his head, warding the notion with his hands. Although Richard couldn't make out all their words, their feelings about what he said were obvious enough. What words he did hear were all objections that they couldn't kill. Richard rose up. "You know what these men have done," he said in a powerful voice that brought them to silence. "You ran away so you wouldn't also be killed. You know how your people are being treated. You know what's being done to your loved ones in captivity." "But we can't harm another," Owen whined. "We can't." "It's not our way," another man added. "You banished criminals through the boundary," Richard said. "How did you make them go through if they refused?" "If we had to," one of the older men said, "a number of us would hold him, so that he could harm no one. We would tie his hands and bear him to the boundary. We would tell such a banished man that he must go out of our land. If he still refused, we would carry him to a long steep place in the rock where we would lay him down and push him feet first so that he would slide down the rock and go beyond. Once we did this, they weren't able to return." Richard wondered at the lengths these people went to not to harm the worst animals among them. He wondered how many had to suffer or die at the hands of such criminals before the people of Bandakar were sufficiently motivated to take what were to them extreme measures. "We understand much of what you have told us," Owen said, "but we cannot do what you ask. We would be doing wrong. We have been raised not to harm another." Richard snatched up the bag with the girls' fingers and shook it at the men. "Every one of your loved ones back there is thinking of nothing but being saved. Can any of you even imagine their terror? I know what it's like to be tortured, to feel helpless and alone, to feel like you will never escape. In such a situation you want nothing more than for it to stop. You would do anything for it to stop." "That's why we needed you," an older man said. "You must do this. You must rid us of the Order." "I told you, I can't do it alone." With an arm wrapped in a bloody bandage, Richard gestured emphatically. "Surrendering your will to men of the Order who would do such things as this solves nothing. It simply adds more victims. The men of the Order are evil; you must fight back." "But if only you would talk to those men like you talked to us, they would see their misguided ways. They would change, then." "No, they won't. Life doesn't matter to them. They've made their choice to torture, rape, and kill. Our only chance to survive, our only chance to have a future is to destroy them." "We can't harm another person," one of the men said. "It's wrong to harm another," Owen agreed. "It's always immoral to hurt, much less kill, another person," a middle-aged man said to the mumbled agreement of his fellows. "Those who do wrong are obviously in pain and need our understanding, not our hate. Hate will only invite hate. Violence will only begin a cycle of violence that never solves anything." Richard felt as if the ground he had gained with these men was slipping away from him. He was about to run his fingers back through his hair when he saw that they were covered in blood. He dropped his arm and shifted his approach. "You poisoned me to get me to kill these men. By that act, you've already proven that you accept the reality that it's sometimes necessary to kill in order to save innocent lives--that's why you wanted me. You can't hold a belief that it's wrong to harm another and at the same time coerce me to do it for you. That's simply killing by proxy." "We need our freedom," one of them said. "We thought that maybe because of your command as a ruler you could convince these men, for fear of you, to leave us be." "That's why you have to help me. You just said it--for fear of me.You must help me in this so that the threat, the fear, is credible. If they don't believe the threat is real then why would they leave your land?" One of the others folded his arms. "We thought you might rid us of the Order without violence, without killing, but it is up to you to do such killing if that is your way. We cannot kill. From our very beginning, our ancestors have taught us that killing is wrong. You must do this." Another, nodding his agreement, said, "It's your duty to help those who cannot bring themselves to do what you can do." Duty. The polite name put to the chains of servitude. Richard turned away, closing his eyes as he squeezed his temples between fingers and thumb. He'd thought that he was beginning to get through to these men. He'd thought he would be able to get them to think for themselves--in their own best interest--rather than to function spontaneously according to the rote dictates of their indoctrination. He could hardly believe that after all he'd told them, these men would still rather have their loved ones endure torture and brutal murder than harm the men committing the crimes. By refusing to face the nature of reality, these men were willingly giving the good over to evil, life over to death. He realized then that it was even more basic than that. In the most fundamental sense, they were willfully choosing to reject the reality of evil. Deep inside him, every breath pulled a stitch of pain. He had to get the antidote. He was running out of time. But that alone would not solve his problems; his gift was killing him just as surely as the poison. He felt so sick from the pounding pain of his headache that he thought he might throw up. Even the magic of his sword was failing him. Richard feared the poison, but in a more central way, he feared the encroaching death from within, from his gift. The poison, as dangerous as it was, had a clearly defined cause and cure. With his gift, he felt lost. Richard looked back into Kahlan's troubled eyes. He could see that she had no solution to offer. She stood in a weary pose, her arm hanging straight with the weight of the warning beacon that seemed to tell him only that he was dying, but offered no answers. Its whole reason for being was to call him to a proclaimed duty to help replace the boundary, as if his life was not his own, but belonged to anyone who laid claim to it by shackling him with a declaration of duty. That concept--duty--was no less a poison than that which these men had given him ... a call to sacrifice himself. Richard took the small statue from Kahlan's hand and stared down at it. The inky black had already enveloped half the length of the figure. His life was being consumed. The sand continued to trickle away. His time was running out. The stone figure of Kaja-Rang, the long-dead wizard who had summoned him with the warning beacon and charged him with an impossible task, loomed over him as if in silent rebuke. Behind him, the men huddled close, affirming to one another their beliefs, their ways, their responsibility to their ancient ideals, that the men of the Order were acting as they were because they were misguided and could still be reformed. They spoke of the Wise One and all the great speakers who had committed them t