nged partners after each dance, and still
there were jovial men lined up out  of  sight  waiting a turn, and not  just
with  the younger, more  attractive Sisters. Cooks'  helpers set  out simple
fare on food tables, sampling some and joking with the soldiers as they went
about their task. Between dances, Warren and Verna tried the variety of food
from different tables.
     Kahlan danced once more with Captain Ryan, and once more with Zedd, but
then busied herself speaking to officers and soldiers alike so she  wouldn't
have to dance with anyone,  should anyone feel awkward about asking her, yet
work up the nerve. She was more able to enjoy the festivities without having
to dance.
     As she was greeting a line of young officers, and they were telling her
how much they appreciated the party, someone tapped Kahlan  on the shoulder.
She turned to a smiling Warren.
     "Mother  Confessor, I  would be honored were you to  have  a dance with
me."
     Kahlan noticed Verna dancing with Zedd.  This  was one dance that would
be different. "Warren, I would love to dance with the handsome groom."

     He moved  smoothly with her, not at all haltingly  as she had expected.
He seemed  to be blissfully at peace, and  not  nervous  about the crush  of
people or the men constantly clapping him on the back, or the joking remarks
from some of the Sisters.
     "Mother Confessor, I just wanted to thank you for making  this the best
day I've ever had."
     Kahlan smiled up into his young  face, his ageless eyes. "Warren, thank
you for agreeing to this big  party. I know it's not the  sort of thing that
fits you-"
     "Oh, but it is. That's just it. People used to call me the mole."
     "They did? Why?"
     "Because I used to stay down in the  vaults  all the  time studying the
prophecies. It wasn't just that I liked  to  study the books-I was afraid to
come out."
     "But you finally did."
     He  turned her  in  time with the  sweep  of music. "Richard brought me
out."
     "He did? I never knew that."
     "In  a  way,  you've  helped  add to  what  he started."  Warren smiled
distantly. "I just wanted to thank you. I know  how much I miss him, and how
much Verna misses him. I know the men miss their Lord Rahl."
     Kahlan was only able to nod.
     "And I  know how  much you miss  your  husband. That's why  I wanted to
thank you-for  giving us  this,  and the gift of  your  grace, despite  your
heartache. Everyone here feels  it with you. Please know that while you miss
him, you are not alone, and are among those who love him too."
     Kahlan smiled, and managed to get out a "Thank you."
     As they danced across the open area, laughing at the merry tune and the
awkward steps of some of the soldiers, the music abruptly trailed off.
     It was then that she heard the horns.
     Alarm swept  through  the  assembled  soldiers,  as men  ran for  their
weapons, until one of  the sentries sprinted in, waving his arm, calling out
for everyone to stand down, that it was friendly forces.
     Puzzled, Kahlan stretched her neck along with  everyone else, trying to
see.  They  had  no forces out. She had let them all be present to enjoy the
wedding party.
     The  crowd  parted  as  horses  trotted  through  the  throng. Kahlan's
eyebrows went up,  and her  jaw dropped. The distinguished General  Baldwin,
commander of all Keltish forces, was at the fore, riding a handsome chestnut
gelding. He brought the horse to a smart halt. He ran his first finger along
the  length  of  his  white-flecked dark  mustache as  he took in the  crowd
gathered in around  him. His graying black hair grew down over his ears, and
his pate shone  through on top.  He was a  striking figure in his serge cape
fastened on one  shoulder with two  buttons, allowing  it to  show the  rich
green  silk lining.  His  tan  surcoat was decorated  with a heraldic emblem
slashed  through  with  a  diagonal black line  dividing  a yellow  and blue
shield. The  man's high boots were rolled down below  his  knees. Long black
gauntlets, their flared cuffs  lying over  the front, were  tucked  behind a
wide belt set with an ornate buckle.
     The press of men made way for Kahlan to step through. "General!"
     He lifted a hand  in his noble manner, a smile spreading  wide. "Mother
Confessor, how good to see you."
     Kahlan started to speak, but horses charged  through, the crowd falling
back for  them. They stormed  into the  dance area like a  wind-borne fire-a
dozen Mord-Sith in red leather. One of the women leaped from her horse.

     "Rikka!" Cara called out.
     The  woman's  bold  glare swept  over the gathered people. She  finally
settled her gaze, taking in Cara. Cara moved out of General Meiffert's arms.
     "Cara,"  she  said as way  of greeting. She glanced  around.  "Where is
Hania?"
     Cara stepped closer. "Hania? She's not here."
     The woman  pressed  her  lips  together  in  bitter  disappointment. "I
thought as much. When I never received word back, I feared we had  lost her.
Still, I was hoping. . ."
     Kahlan stepped forward, a little miffed that  the woman saw fit to step
in front of General Baldwin. "Rikka, is it?"
     "Ah," Rikka said, a knowing smile stealing onto her face, "You could be
none  other  than  Lord Rahl's wife-the Mother  Confessor.  I recognize  the
description."  The woman saluted casually with  a fist to her heart. "Yes, I
am Rikka."
     "I'm glad to have you here, and your sisters of the Agiel."
     "I  came  from  Aydindril as soon as Berdine  received  your letter. It
explained a lot. She and I discussed it, and decided I should come with some
of my  sisters to  help in our effort.  I  left  six  sister  Mord-Sith with
Berdine to watch over Aydindril and the Wizard's Keep. I also brought twenty
thousand troops." She lifted a thumb, pointing with it behind  her. "We  met
up with the general, here, a week back."
     "We can  certainly use  your help. That was wise of Berdine-I know  how
eager she was to come herself, but she knows the city and the Keep. I'm glad
she  followed   my  instructions."  Kahlan   settled   her  most  unsettling
Mother-Confessor-gaze on Rikka. "Now,  if you  don't mind,  you  interrupted
General Baldwin."
     Cara shoved Rikka, pushing her  back out of the way. "We need to  talk,
Rikka, before you're up to  the task of serving Lord Rahl  and his wife, who
just happens to be a sister of the Agiel."
     Rikka lifted and eyebrow in surprise. "Really? How could-"
     "Later," Cara said with a smile before Rikka could get herself into any
more trouble,  moving the woman  and her sister Mord-Sith back. Zedd,  Adie,
and Verna eased closer to Kahlan.
     General Baldwin, now off his horse, stepped forward at last and went to
a knee in a bow. "My queen, Mother Confessor."
     "Rise, my child," Kahlan  said  in formal answer  as the camp looked on
with the  same  rapt attention they  had  devoted to  the  wedding. This had
important bearing on them, too.
     The  general  rose to  his  feet. "I  came as soon  as I received  your
letter, Mother Confessor."
     "How many men did you bring?"
     He looked  surprised by  the  question. "Why .  .  . all of  them.  One
hundred seventy thousand  men. When my queen asks for an  army, I bring  her
one."
     Whispers spread through the men as they passed word back.
     Kahlan  was  stunned.  She  no  longer  even  felt  the  cold.  "That's
wonderful,  General. They  are  sorely needed. We have a  real fight on  our
hands,  as  I  explained  in  my  letter.  The  Imperial  Order  is  getting
reinforcements all the time. We need to cut those lines."
     "I  understand. With the D'Harans from Aydindril  come with us, we  can
just about triple the size of your force down here."
     "And we can still bring more in from D'Hara," General Meiffert said.
     Kahlan felt the hot spark of faith in their chances swelling within her
breast. "By

     spring, for  sure, we will need them." She cocked her  head at  General
Baldwin. "What about Lieutenant Leiden?"
     "Who?  Oh, you must mean Sergeant Leiden.  He only has  a scout patrol,
now. When a man deserts his queen, he's lucky to keep his head, but he acted
to protect her people, so  I sent him to guard  some remote pass. I hope the
man dresses warmly."
     Kahlan  wanted  to throw her  arms around the  dashing General Baldwin.
Instead, she  touched her fingers to his arm in  a gesture of her gratitude.
"Thank you, General. We surely need the men."
     "Well, they're up country a little ways, half a day back. Couldn't  fit
them all in here with your army."
     "That's  fine."  Kahlan  waggled  her  fingers,  calling  the Mord-Sith
forward.  "I'm very glad  to  see  you,  too, Rikka. With  Mord-Sith, we can
better handle the enemy gifted. We may even  be able to turn the tide. Cara,
here, has helped eliminate some of  the gifted already, but  I'm afraid that
Lord  Rahl  has her  under  orders to protect me. She will  continue in that
capacity. But you will be free to go after their gifted."
     Rikka bowed. "Love  to."  She came up and  smiled.  "Berdine warned  me
about her," she said under her breath to Cara.
     "You should listen  to  Berdine," Cara said, clapping her on  the back.
"Come, I'll help you find some quarters-"
     "No," Kahlan said, stopping them in their tracks. "This is a party. The
general, Rikka, and her sisters are invited. In fact, I insist."
     "Well,"  Rikka  said, brightening, "as long as  we're  protecting  Lord
Rahl's wife, we would be only to happy to stay."
     Kahlan took Rikka's arm and pulled her close. "Rikka, we have a  lot of
men here, and few women. This is a dance. Get out there and dance."
     "What! Are you out of your-"
     Kahlan  shoved her out into the  dance area. She snapped her fingers at
the musicians. "Shall we  resume?"  She turned to General Baldwin. "General,
you have come at a  wonderful time, a time of celebration. Please, would you
dance with me?"
     "Mother Confessor?"
     "I am your queen, also. Generals dance with queens, do they not?"
     He smiled and offered his arm. "Of course they do, my queen."
     Long after it was dark, the wedding procession made its way through the
makeshift streets, greeting all the men. Thousands of soldiers congratulated
Warren and Verna on their marriage, offered jesting advice, a gentle slap on
the back, or just a merry wave.
     Kahlan recalled a time when the Midlands feared these men. Under Darken
Rahl,  they were a formidable invader;  inspiring dread and terror.  She was
amazed at how civil these men could be, how human,  when given a  chance. It
was Richard, really, who had  given them that chance. She knew  that many of
them understood that, and appreciated it.
     When finally they reached the  end of the long winding walk through the
sprawling camp,  they came at  last to the tent Verna and Warren thought was
to be theirs. Those following along bid the couple a good night and wandered
back to the party, leaving the three of them alone.
     Rather  than let Verna and Warren  slow,  Kahlan stepped between  them,
took each under an arm, and  guided  them onto  the  path among the towering
trees. Moonlight

     through the boughs cast wavering patterns on the snow. Not knowing what
she  was  up to, neither  Verna  nor  Warren protested as  Kahlan kept  them
moving.
     Finally, Kahlan spotted the lodge off through the trees. She  stopped a
little distance away to let them see the  candlelight coming from behind the
lace-like curtain.  The juxtaposition against life  in an  army camp made it
looked all the more romantic.
     "This is a long and difficult struggle,"  Kahlan told them. "Starting a
marriage under  these  conditions is a  harsh  burden. I can't tell you  how
happy I am that you two chose to go forward  with it at a time like this. It
means a great deal to all of us.  We're  all  very happy for you.  More than
anything, I would like to thank you both for choosing life in all its glory.
     "We  will  one day have to move on, as surely the Order will move again
when spring comes,  if  not  before. But for  now,  I  want this place to be
yours. I can give you at least this much, this little piece of a normal life
together."
     Verna unexpectedly burst  into tears  and  buried her  face in Kahlan's
shoulder. Kahlan patted the Prelate's heaving  back, chuckling at how out of
character it was for Verna to show such emotion.
     "Not a good idea, Verna, to let your new  husband see  you cry just  as
he's about to take you to his bed."
     That did it, and Verna laughed, too. She  gripped Kahlan's shoulders as
she searched her eyes.
     "I don't know what to say."
     Kahlan kissed her cheek. "Love each another, be good to each other, and
treasure being together-that's what I would like more than anything."
     Warren hugged  her, whispering his thanks in her ear. Kahlan watched as
he led Verna the remaining distance to the  lodge.  At the door, both turned
and waved. At the last moment, Warren swept Verna off her feet.  Her lilting
laugh drifted among the trees as he carried her through the doorway.
     Alone, Kahlan turned back to the camp.


        CHAPTER 44

     The door opened a crack.  One bloodshot eye peered out  into the  dingy
hall.
     "You have a room? My wife and I are looking for a room." Before the man
could close the door, Richard quickly added, "We were told you had one."
     "What of it?"
     Despite  it  being self-evident, Richard  answered  politely. "We've no
place to stay."
     "Why bring your problems to me?"
     Richard could hear angry words going back and forth  between a man  and
woman upstairs.  Behind  several of the  doors in  the  hall, babies  wailed
without pause. The heavy odor of rancid  oil hung in  the  dank air. Out the
door at  the back standing open to the  narrow alley, young children,  being
chased by older children, squealed as they ran through the cold rain.
     Richard spoke without  expectation  into  the narrow  slit. "We need  a
room."
     A dog not far up the alleyway barked with monotonous persistence.
     "Lots of people need a room. I only have one. I can't give it to you."
     Nicci eased Richard aside and put her face close to the crack.
     "We have the money for the first week." She shoved her hand against the
door when he started to shut it.  "It's a public room. Your duty is  to help
the public get rooms."
     The man shouldered his weight into the door, shutting it in her face.
     Richard turned away  as  Nicci  began knocking.  "Forget  it," he said.
"Let's go get a loaf of bread."
     Nicci  usually  followed his lead  without admonishment, challenge,  or
even comment, but this time, instead of minding him, she rapped persistently
on  the door. Layers of peeling  paint,  every color from blue to yellow  to
red, fell from under her knuckles.
     "It's your duty," Nicci called to the closed door. "You've no right  to
turn us away." No answer came. "We're going to report you."
     The door opened a crack again. The eye glared out with menace.
     "Has he a job?"
     "No, but-"
     "You go away. The both of your I'll report you!"
     "For what, might I ask?"
     "Look, lady, I got a room, but  I got to  keep it for people at the top
of the list."
     "How do you know we're not at the top of the list?"
     "Because if you were you would have said so first off and showed me the
approval you got with a seal on it. People at the head of the list have been
waiting a long time  for a place. You're no  better than a thief,  trying to
take the place of a good

     citizen who's followed the law. Now, go away, or I will take  down your
names for the lodging inspector."
     The door  slammed  shut again. The  threat of having their  names taken
down  appeared to take some of the fight out of Nicci. She huffed a  sigh as
they  walked away, the bowed floor creaking and groaning underfoot. At least
they had been able to get in out of the rain for a brief time.
     "We will have to keep looking," she told him. "If you had a job, first,
it would probably help. Maybe tomorrow you can  look for a  job while I keep
looking for a room."
     Out in the cold rain once more,  they crossed the  muddy  street to the
cobbled walkway  on  the  other side. There were  yet more places  to check,
though Richard didn't  hold out any hope of getting a room. They'd had doors
shut in their faces more times than he  could  count.  Nicci  wanted a room,
though, so they kept looking.
     The weather  was unusually cold for this  far south  in the Old  World,
Nicci had told him. People said the cold spell and rain  would soon  pass. A
few  days before it  had  been muggy and warm, so Richard  had  no reason to
doubt their judgment. It was disorienting for him to see woods and fields of
lush green  vegetation  in  the  dead of winter. There were some trees  with
limbs bare for the season, but most were in full leaf.
     As  far south as they  were in the  Old World, it never got cold enough
for water to freeze. People only  blinked dumbly when he spoke of snow. When
Richard explained snow as flakes  of  frozen white  water that fell from the
sky and covered the ground with a cottony blanket, some people turned huffy,
thinking he was making a joke at their expense.
     He knew  that back home winter  would  be  raging.  Despite the turmoil
around him,  Richard felt an inner tranquillity knowing that Kahlan was most
likely to be warm and snug in the house he had built; in that light, nothing
in his new life  was  of enough importance to distress him. She had food  to
eat, firewood to keep her warm, and Cara for company. For now, she was safe.
Winter  was wearing on and in spring  she  would  be able to leave, but, for
now, Richard was  confident that she was safe.  That,  and his  thoughts and
memories of her, were his only solace.
     People without rooms huddled in the alleyways,  using whatever scrap of
solid material they could find to  prop up over themselves for a roof. Walls
were fashioned from sodden  blankets. He supposed  that  he and Nicci  could
continue to do  the  same, but he feared Nicci falling ill  in  the cold and
wet-feared that then Kahlan, too, would fall ill.
     Nicci checked the  paper  she carried. "These  places on this  register
they gave us are all supposed to  be available for people newly  arrived-not
just  for people on a list.  They need workers; they should be more diligent
in seeing to  it  that places are available. Do you see, Richard? Do you see
how hard it is for ordinary people to get along in life?"
     Richard, hands  shoved in his pockets,  shoulders  hunched against  the
wind and rain, asked, "So, how do we get on a list?"
     "We  will  have to go to a lodging office and request a  room. They can
put us on a housing list."
     It sounded simple, but matters were proving far more complex than  they
sounded.
     "If there aren't enough rooms, how will being on a list get  us a place
to stay?"
     "People die all the time."
     "There's work  here, that's why  we came-that's  why  everyone else has
come.

     I'll work hard and  then we can  afford to  pay more.  We  still have a
little money. We just need to find a place that wants to rent a room for the
right price-without all this list foolishness."
     "Really, Richard, are you that inhumane? How would those less fortunate
ever get  rooms, then? The  Order  sets the prices to stop profiteers.  They
make sure there  is no favoritism. That  makes it fair for all. We just need
to get on a list for a room, and then everything will be fine."
     Watching the  glistening  cobbles  before him  as  he  walked,  Richard
wondered how long they would be  without a place until their name worked its
way to the top of a list. It looked to him  as if a lot of people would need
to die before his and Nicci's names came up for a room-with more yet waiting
in turn for them to die.
     He  stepped first to one side and then  the other to avoid bumping into
the  river  of  people  swirling  past,  making their  way  in  the opposite
direction while trying to stay out  of  the mud of the street. He considered
again staying outside  the city-a lot  of people  did that.  But  there were
outlaws and desperate people aplenty  who preyed on those who were forced to
stay out in the open where there were no city guards. Were Nicci not opposed
to  the idea, Richard would  have  found  a  place farther out and  built  a
shelter,  perhaps  with  some  other  people  so that  they  could  together
discourage trouble.
     Nicci  wasn't interested in the idea. Nicci  wanted  to be in the city.
Multitudes came to the city looking for  a better life. There were  lists to
get on, and lines to wait in to see official people. You had a better chance
of doing those things if you had a room in the city, she said.
     It was getting late in the day. The line at the bakery was out the door
and partway down the block.
     "Why are all these people in line?" Richard whispered  to Nicci. It was
the same every day when they went to buy bread.
     She shrugged. "I guess there aren't enough bakeries."
     "Seems  like  with all  the customers, more people  would want  to open
bakeries."
     Nicci  leaned close,  a scolding  scowl darkening her brow.  "The world
isn't as simple as you would  like it to be, Richard. It used to be that way
in  the  Old  World. Man's evil nature was allowed  to flourish. People  set
their own prices for goodswith greed being their only interest, not the good
of their fellow man. Only the wellto-do could afford to buy  bread. Now, the
Order sees to it that everyone gets needed goods for a fair price. The Order
cares about everyone, not just those with unfair advantages."
     She always seemed so impassioned when  she spoke  about the evil nature
of  people. Richard wondered why a Sister of the Dark would care about evil,
but he didn't bother to ask.
     The line wasn't moving very fast. The woman in front of him, suspicious
of their whispering, scowled back over her shoulder.
     Richard met her glare with a broad smile.
     "Good afternoon, ma'am." Her somber scowl faltered in  the light of his
beaming  grin.  "We're new  in town"-he gestured  behind-"my wife and I. I'm
looking for work. We need a room, though. Would you know how a young couple,
strangers to the city, could go about getting a room?"
     She half turned, holding her canvas  bag in both hands, letting it pull
her arms straight as she leaned her shoulders against the wall. Her bag held
only  a  yellow  wedge   of   cheese.  Richard's  smile   and  his  friendly
conversational tone-artificial

     though they were-were apparently so out of the ordinary that she seemed
unable to maintain her gruff demeanor.
     "You have to have a job if you hope to get  a room. There aren't enough
rooms in  the  city,  what with all the new workers  come  for the abundance
provided by the wisdom of the Order. If you're able-bodied, you need to have
work, then they'll put your name on the list."
     Richard scratched his head and kept smiling as the line slowly shuffled
along. "I'm eager to work."
     "Easier to get a room if you can't work," the woman confided.
     "But, I thought you just said you had to have a job if you were to have
any hope of getting a room."
     "That's true, if you're able, like you look to be.  Those  folks with a
greater need, because they can't do  for themselves, are rightly entitled to
benevolence and to be  put higher on the list-like my husband, the poor man.
He's afflicted terrible like with consumption."
     "I'm so sorry," Richard said.
     She nodded  with the weight of her burden. "It's mankind's wretched lot
to suffer. Nothing  can be done about it, so there's no use trying.  Only in
the next  life will we get our  reward. In this life, it's the duty of every
person with ability to help those unfortunate souls  with needs. In that way
the able earn their reward in the next life."
     Richard didn't argue. She shook a finger at him.
     "Those who can work owe it to  those who can't to do their best for the
good of all.
     "I can work," Richard assured her. "We're  from . .  . a  little place.
We're  simple folks-from farming stock.  We don't know much about  how to go
about things like getting work in the city."
     "The Order  has brought the people a  great  abundance of work,"  a man
behind Nicci  said, drawing Richard's attention. The man's oiled canvas coat
was buttoned tight at his throat. His big brown eyes blinked  slowly, like a
cow as it chewed its  cud. The way his jaw wobbled sideways as he spoke only
added  to the impression.  "The  Order welcomes all workers to our struggle,
but  you  must be  mindful  of the needs  of  others-as the  Creator Himself
wishes-and go about getting work in the proper fashion."
     Richard,  his  stomach  grumbling  with  hunger,  listened  as  the man
explained.  "You first  need to belong to a  citizen  workers'  group;  they
protect the rights  of citizens  of the Order.  You'll have to  go  before a
review assembly for approval to join the workers' group, and a fitness panel
to hear from a spokesman from the workers' citizen  group who can  vouch for
you. You must do this before you can go for a job."
     "Why can't I  just go  to a place and  show myself? Why can't they hire
me, if I fit their needs?"
     "Just because you're  from the country, that doesn't mean you shouldn't
be mindful of contributing toward the greater good of the Order."
     "Of  course  not,"  Richard  said.  "I've  always  worked  for  myself,
thoughfarming to bring  food to  my fellow man, as is our duty. I don't know
how businesses do things."
     The  big brown  eyes paused their blinking. The man peered suspiciously
for a moment, then his eyes finally went  moony  again. His  jaw resumed its
wobbling as he chewed his words.

     "It's  the  primary responsibility of  business to  be sensitive to the
needs of  the people, to contribute to the  public welfare, to be equitable.
The review board helps  see  to this.  There is much more involved  than the
narrow goals of businesses."
     "I  see," Richard said. "Well, I'd be grateful if you could tell me how
to go about it properly."  He glanced briefly at Nicci. "I want to be a good
citizen and do things right."
     By the man's pride in the explanation, and the way his big eyes blinked
faster  as  he laid it all out, Richard expected that  the  man  was somehow
involved  in  the labyrinthine  process. Richard didn't  ask  how  you got a
spokesman from the citizen  workers' group to vouch for you. The line inched
forward as  the man explained  the finer details of different sorts of work,
what each required,  and  how it was  all for the  benefit  of those  living
within the Order and under the grace of the Creator.
     As he droned  on, delivering  his information with  smug  satisfaction,
Nicci watched Richard discreetly, and without comment, as he listened to the
procedures. She looked  as if  she was expecting him to suddenly  turn  from
polite to deadly. Richard knew there could be no point to a battle with this
man, so he remained polite.
     It turned out that the man, named Mr. Gudgeons, seemed to know the most
about  the quarry  workers. Since  Richard knew  little  about  quarries, he
passed the time as they stood in line by asking a few questions that pleased
Mr. Gudgeons to answer-at great length.
     The store ran out of bread and closed before they  got any. The line of
people  dissolved into the  downpour, mumbling to one another  as  they went
about their woeful lot in life. Richard thanked  the woman  and Mr. Gudgeons
before he and Nicci moved on.
     Richard paused at a cross street while Nicci studied her paper with the
list of  rooms. All  around, the blocky shapes  of buildings rose out of the
gloom. Red paint on the side of one brick building was so faded that it left
the figure  painted there looking like a blushing ghost. The faded whitewash
of words beneath the vanishing man were no longer legible.
     Passing men gazed  at  Nicci  in her wet clinging clothes, never seeing
her face.  Her hair  was plastered to her skull,  her jaw  quivered, and her
hands trembled,  yet she  didn't complain  about the  cold, as did  everyone
else. They had been told that  they couldn't get another list, with any  new
rooms that  might  have recently become available, until the  next  day,  so
Nicci was trying to keep  this one  whole, but in  the  rain it was a losing
battle.
     Mangy horses  slogged through the mud,  some  of the wagons they pulled
squeaking  and  groaning  under  the  weight  of   a  load.  Only  the  main
thoroughfares, like the one they were on, were wide enough to allow teams of
horses and full-size wagons to easily pass in both  directions. Some streets
were only wide enough for wagons to go in one direction. Some of those, with
no room to pull aside, were choked off by broken-down wagons. Richard  saw a
dead horse in one narrow street, the rotting  animal, attended by a cloud of
flies, still  hitched  to its wagon as  it awaited  someone  to come haul it
away. The blocked  streets only added to the congestion of the  others. Some
streets,  were  wide enough  only for handcarts. In  many  of  the  narrower
passageways only foot traffic could fit.
     The smell of garbage and the stench of  streets that also functioned as
open  sewers had  been enough to gag Richard for the first  week  until he'd
become numb to it.

     The alleyways where  he and Nicci  had  slept were the worst. The  rain
only served to  flush the  filth out of every hole and carry it out into the
open,  but  at least as long as he  was standing  it washed off some  of the
dirt.
     All the  cities Richard had seen after they'd entered the Old World and
traveled south from  Tanimura were similar  to this one, all suffering under
grinding  poverty and  inhuman conditions.  Everything  seemed caught  in  a
timeless trap, a morass of rot, as if the cities had  once been vibrant with
life and people striving to fulfill dreams, had once been places of hope and
ambition, but somewhere  the dreams had disintegrated into  a  gray pall  of
stagnation and decay. No one seemed to much care. Everyone seemed in a daze,
biding their time,  waiting  for  their lot  in life to improve without even
having  a concept of the shape  of that better  life or how it might come to
be. They existed on  disembodied faith,  confident  only that the  afterlife
would be perfect.
     The cities  Richard had seen were startlingly similar  to what  Richard
envisioned the future held for the New World under the yoke of the Order.
     This place, though, was the single largest city  Richard had ever seen.
He  would never have  believed the  size of it had he  not seen it  himself.
Dilapidated buildings entangled by streets teeming with people sprawled over
a  sweep  of low  hills, across  a  broad  bottomland,  for miles  along the
convergence of two rivers. Squat ramshackle huts built haphazardly of wattle
and daub,  scraps of wood, or salvaged mud and straw bricks beset the city's
core to a  great distance  out into  the surrounding  land, like fetid  scum
surrounding a rotting log in a stagnant pond.
     It  was  the city of Altur'Rang-the namesake of  the land which was now
the heart of the Old World and the  Imperial Order-the home city of  Emperor
Jagang.
     When they had  first entered the Old World  on  their way  south toward
Altur'Rang, Richard and Nicci had stopped at the northernmost  large city in
the Old World, 'Ianimura, where the Palace of  the Prophets had once  stood.
Tanimura, one of the last places in the  Old World to fall under the rule of
the Imperial Order, was a grand place, with wide boulevards lined with trees
and ornate buildings soaring several  stories high,  faced  with columns and
arches  and  windows that  let in the light. Tanimura, as  large as  it was,
turned out to be but  an  outpost of the Old World, far enough away that the
rot was only now reaching it.
     For a span of a little over a month, Richard had found work in Tanimura
as a  mason's tender, one of a  dozen, hauling stone and mixing mortar for a
squat, unattractive  building.  The masons  had simple huts  the workers and
their  families lived in,  so  Nicci had shelter.  The  master came to trust
Richard to keep up with his masons. When one of the stonecutters fell  sick,
Richard  was asked  to  stand in at  squaring the blocks of granite for  the
masons.
     He   found  holding   a  chisel  and  mallet   in  his  hands,  cutting
stone-shaping it to his will-a revelation. In some ways, it was like carving
wood . . . but somehow much more.
     From time to time,  the master  stood  with fists on his hips, watching
Richard chisel square edges into the hard granite. Occasionally, in  a gruff
voice, he would make minor corrections to Richard's method. After a time, as
the master saw that Richard took to the job and could cut a block square and
true, he no  longer bothered  watching.  Before long  Richard's blocks  were
chosen first by the masons as cornerstones.
     Other stonecutters arrived  to do more  demanding  work-the adornments.
When

     they had first shown up, Richard had been eager to see their work. They
cut into the face of blocks,  meant to surround the entrance, a  large flame
representing  the Light of the Creator.  Below that, they carved a crowd  of
cowering people.
     Richard had seen a number  of stone carvings  in  the various places he
had been, from the Confessors' Palace in Aydindril to the People's Palace in
D'Hara, but he had never seen anything  like the figures he saw being cut on
that building in  Tanimura. They  were not graceful, or grand, or inspiring,
but  just the opposite. They were distorted, thick-limbed,  cringing figures
recoiling below the Light. Richard was told by one of the artisans that this
was  the  only  proper  representation of mankind-profane, hideous,  sinful.
Richard kept his mind on cutting square stones.
     When the stonework to the  Order's headquarters building  was finished,
the job  ended. The carpenters didn't  need any more help. The artisans said
they could  use some assistance carving  the anguish of mankind and  offered
Richard  the work. He declined,  telling  them that he  had  no ability  for
carving.
     Besides,  Nicci had  been eager to move on; Tanimura  had  only been  a
place to earn  some money to buy provisions  for the  long journey  ahead of
them. Richard was glad  to be away from the depressing sight  of the carving
going on.
     Along the  way  southeast  to Altur'Rang,  in  the  cities  they passed
through, Richard saw  many carvings on buildings, and many more freestanding
in public squares, or in front of  entrances. They depicted  horrors: people
being whipped  by a grinning Keeper of the underworld; people  stabbing  out
their  own  eyes;  suffering people twisted, deformed,  and crippled; people
like  packs of  dogs,  running on all  fours, attacking women and  children;
people  reduced  to  walking  skeletons or covered  in sores;  woeful people
throwing themselves into graves. In most such scenes the pitiful people were
watched over  by  the Light  of the all-perfect  Creator represented by  the
flame.
     The Old World was a celebration of misery.
     Along  the  way  south, they  had  stopped in a  number of  cities when
Richard could  find menial work  temporary enough  not to require waiting on
lists. He and  Nicci went for stretches  eating cabbage soup that was mostly
water.  Sometimes  they had  rice  or  lentils  or buckwheat  mush,  and, on
occasion, the  luxury  of salt pork. Sometimes, Richard was  able  to  catch
fish, birds,  or the odd hare. Living off the land in the Old World, though,
was difficult. A lot of other people had the same idea. They both had gotten
thinner on their long march. Richard began to understand the carvings of the
skeletal people.
     Nicci had set their destination, but dictated little else, leaving most
decisions  to him, complying without complaint.  Week in and  week out, they
walked, occasionally paying a  few copper pennies to ride in  wagons  headed
their  way. They  crossed rivers straddled by cities  large enough  to  have
numbers of stone bridges, and went through town after town. There  were vast
fields of wheat,  millet, sunflower,  and any number of  other crops, though
much of the land lay fallow. They saw flocks of sheep and herds of cattle.
     Farmers  sold  the travelers  goat cheese and milk. Ever since the gift
had awakened in him,  Richard was able  to eat meat  only when not doing any
fighting. He thought it might be part of the requirement to balance his need
to  sometimes take  life. Since  he wasn't doing any fighting,  he could eat
meat without it  making him  sick. Unfortunately,  they could  rarely afford
meat. Cheese, which he  had once loved,  he could  hardly  stomach since his
gift had  come  to life in  him. Unfortunately, it was often eat  cheese, or
starve.

     But it was the size of the Old World, and in particular its population,
that most unsettled  him. Richard had naively thought that the  New  and the
Old Worlds must  be somewhat alike.  They were not. The New  World was but a
flea on the back of the Old.
     From time to time  on their journey south, vast columns of  men at arms
moved past them on their way north to the  Midlands. Several  times, it  had
taken days for all the soldiers to march past. Whenever he saw the rank upon
rank of troops, he felt a wave  of  relief that  Kahlan was trapped in their
mountain home. He would  hate to think  of her fighting in an army facing as
many men as he saw going to the war.
     By spring, when she could finally get out of the mountain home, and all
those Imperial Order troops could truly begin  their siege of the New World,
whatever  resistance the  D'Haran  Empire put up  would be crushed.  Richard
hoped  General Reibisch  chose not to go  up against the Order. He  hated to
think  of  all those  brave men  being slaughtered  under the weight  of the
coming onslaught.
     At one small city,  Nicci had  gone to a stream  to wash  their clothes
while Richard worked the day mucking out stalls at a large stable. A  number
of  officials  had  come  to  town  and  there  were  more horses  than  the
stablemaster could handle. Richard had been at the right place at the  right
time to get the  job. Not long after the officials arrived and took all  the
rooms at the  inns, a large unit  of the  Imperial Order troops  marched  in
behind them and set up camp at the city limits.
     Fortunately, Nicci  was on  the  other  side  of  the city  doing their
washing. Unfortunately, a squad of men passing through  the city,  and doing
some  drinking, decided to accept volunteers. Richard kept his head  down as
he carried water to the horses, but the sergeant saw him. At the wrong place
at  the wrong time, Richard was "volunteered" into the Imperial  Order.  The
new volunteers were quartered in the center of the immense encampment.
     That night, after it was dark and most of the men were asleep,  Richard
unvolunteered himself. It  took  him  until  three  hours before sunrise  to
extract  himself from  his service  to the Imperial Order. Nicci had gone to
the stable  and  found out what had happened to him.  Richard found  her  at
their camp, pacing in the  darkness. They quickly collected their things and
marched south for the rest of the night. They went  cross country, since the
moon  was out, rather than on the  roads, in case a patrol  came looking for
him. From then  on,  whenever Richard saw soldiers he did his best to become
invisible.
     In general,  though, it wasn't  a serious  concern.  Hordes  of youths,
lusting after the promise of plunder, were only too eager to join  the army.
They often had to wait weeks or months to be accepted into training, so many
were the numbers joining. Richard  had  seen crowds of them in  the  cities,
playing games,  gambling, drinking, fighting-young men dreaming of the glory
of killing the evil foes of the great empire of the Order. They enjoyed  the
adoration of the populace  when they joined the army to go off and fight the
frightful wickedness and sin that was said to infect the New World.
     Richard  was horrified to  see the numbers of people living  in the Old
World, because it meant  that  the Order's army already in the New World was
hardly a  drain on the populace-and only  the beginning. He had thought that
perhaps the Order  might  lose their enthusiasm for a war  conducted so  far
from their homeland,  or that the people of  the Old World would tire of the