There were other creatures, too, that were magic, and people, too, who possessed it. Sometimes it was hard to place a line between creature of the wild, and people. Some people of the Midlands were part creature, or perhaps some creatures were part people. They were strange and delightful, and very shy.
And so it went throughout various forms of magic, from the simplest things in the Howling Caves that could let you peek through solid rock to see their nests, to people like the Mud People, who had only simple magic that would do but one thing.
As Mother Confessor, all these, and many more, were her charges, and as Mother Confessor, she commanded all to protect these magic places, so no one people would bear the brunt of burden against others. It was an arrangement backed by Confessors and wizards extending back for thousands of years.
The twilight beings, Riggs had called them. That was the name given to these magical creatures by the Blood of the Fold, among others, because many of them came out only at night. For this reason, the Blood associated them with darkness, and so, out of fear, with the darkness of the Keeper of the dead.
The Blood considered magic the force through which the Keeper extended his influence into this world, into the world of the living. The Blood were as unreasonable and thickheaded as any men alive. And, they considered it their duty to send to the land of the dead any who they thought served the Keeper. That was just about anyone who disagreed with their view of things. In some lands the Blood were outlawed, and in some, like Nicobarese, they were encouraged and paid by the Crown.
Maybe Riggs was right. Maybe she should have brought the rule of law to stop men like this. But that had never been the intent of the Council—to make all to bow in all things to one. The strength and beauty of the Midlands was in its diversity, even if some of that diversity was ugly. What was ugly to one was beautiful to another, and so it was that each land was to be left to rule itself, as long as it brought no force of arms no another. It was a tolerant suffering of things repugnant to allow things beautiful to blossom. It was a sometimes difficult and fine line to hold the Council to: forcing lands to work together in some things, but allowing them to be autonomous in others.
But perhaps Riggs was right. People in some lands suffered the cruel or poor rule of their greedy or inept leaders, with no hope of matters being brought to change from without. Though the wise, but smaller, lands had not to live in fear of outside conquest. If the suffering of the people under less fortunate rule could be ended with wise central rule, would not matters be improved?
Yet when all lived under the same rule, every other form of existence was extinguished and none would ever have the chance to grow, though one of them might have been a superior way. The kind of single rule the Imperial Order represented was slavery.
Kahlan was surprised to encounter Galean sentries further from their camp that before. They were no longer spread too far apart, and they were well hidden, popping up with drawn bows and bared steel when she was almost upon them. Chandalen, Prindin and Tossidin had obviously been at work. The sentries put fists to hearts when they recognized her.
The dawn was turning the sky to a dark, steel gray. It was warmer than it had been, with the clouds covering the land like a warming quilt. She was dead tired in the saddle as Nick plodded through the snow toward the camp, but as she came into sight of men rushing about, she came alert with the thoughts of what needed to be done.
Chandalen, Prindin, Captain Ryan and lieutenant Hobson were speaking with a group of men when they saw her riding toward the camp. The four came at a run to meet her at the edge of the activity. Men were cooking, eating, stowing gear, preparing weapons and tending to wagons and horses. She spotted Tossidin, in his white wolf mantle, off some distance with Lieutenant Sloan, waving his arms in explanation as he talked to men who stood mute, with their spears all standing upright in the snow, the tight mob of them looking like a dark porcupine against the white ground.
Kahlan gave a tired moan as she dismounted before the four men who had come to greet her. Other men all around kept to their tasks, but moved more slowly as they watched her with great interest. The four before her stared openly with wide eyes. None said a word.
"What are you all staring at?" she said, a little short tempered.
"Mother Confessor," Captain Ryan said, "You are covered in blood. Are you hurt?"
Kahlan stared down at the white wolf fur of her mantle, only it was no longer white. She realized for the first time that the skin of her face was tight with dried blood, her hair stiff with it.
"Oh," she said, in a quieter tone. "It's all right. I'm fine."
Chandalen and Prindin sighed with relief.
Lieutenant Hobson, still wide-eyed, swallowed. "What of the wizard? Did you see him?"
She lifted an eyebrow to him. "What you see on me is what is left of him."
Chandalen gave her a sly smile. "And how many others did you kill?"
Kahlan gave a tired shrug. "I was awfully busy. I didn't take the time to count, but all things considered, I would guess, including the fires, well over a hundred. The wizard is dead, that is what matters. Two of their commanders are dead also, and at least two more are wounded."
Captain Ryan and Lieutenant Hobson paled.
Chandalen's proud grin widened. "I am surprised you left any for others to kill, Mother Confessor."
She didn't return his smile. "There are plenty left." Kahlan rubbed her horse's nose. "Nick did most of the work."
"I told you he wouldn't let you down, Mother Confessor," Hobson said.
"That he did not. He was better aid than the good spirits. He kept me alive this day."
Kahlan lowered herself to one knee in the snow before the two Galean officers. She bowed her head.
"I find I must beseech your forgiveness." She took a hand of each in hers. "Though you are ignorant of how to accomplish what must be done, you have put your duty to the Midlands before my orders. That was courage of the highest order. I want you all to know I was wrong. You acted of noble intent." She kissed each hand. "I laud your righteous hearts. You have kept in mind your duty above all else. I beg you forgive me."
There was silence as she knelt on one knee. At last Captain Ryan whispered down to her.
"Mother Confessor, Please. Get up. Everyone's watching."
"Not until you forgive me. I want everyone to know you did the right thing."
"But you didn't realize what we were doing, or why. You had only our safety in mind." Kahlan waited and he was silent in embarrassment a moment longer. "All right. I forgive you... Don't do it again?"
She came to her feet, releasing their hands, and giving them a small, humorless smile. "See that that is the last time you ever disobey me."
Captain Ryan nodded in ernest. "I will." He shook his head. "I mean, no, I won't, I mean I... We will do as you command, Mother Confessor."
"I understand what you mean, Captain." She let out a tired sigh. "We have a lot of work to do before we attack those men."
"We!" Chandalen shouted. "We were only to teach them some things, and then 'we' are to be on our way to Aydindril! We cannot become caught up in this battle. You have already taken enough chances! We must..."
Kahlan interrupted him. "I must talk to you three. Bring Tossidin. Captain, please collect the men, including the sentries. I want to speak to you all together. Please wait with your men. I will be with you shortly. And leave a tent up for me. I need a few hours sleep while things are being prepared."
She walked off a ways, out of earshot of the camp, with Chandalen in tow, as Prindin went to get Tossidin. When they were all together, she turned to them. Chandalen was scowling, the other two waited without emotion.
"The Mud People," she began in a soft tone, "have magic."
"We have no magic," Chandalen argued.
"Yes, you do. You do not think of it as magic because you were born with it and it is the only way you know. You do not know of other peoples, of their ways. The Mud People can speak with th
eir ancestors' spirits. They can do this because they have magic. You think this is simply the way things work, but they do not work so in other places, with other people. Your ability to do these things is magic. Magic is not some strange and powerful force, it is simply the way some people, some creatures, are."
"Others can speak with their ancestors, if they wish," Chandalen said.
"A few can, but most cannot. To them, it is speaking with the dead, and that is magic. Frightening magic. You, and I, know it is not to be feared, but you will never convince others that what you do is good. They will always think it evil. People believe as they were raised, and they were raised to believe that talking to the dead is evil."
"But our ancestors' spirits help us," Prindin said. "They never bring harm. They only bring help."
Kahlan laid a hand on his shoulder as she looked to his worried eyes. "I know. That is why I help to keep others away from you, so you may live as you wish. There are a few other people who talk with their ancestors, as you do, and they, too, have this magic. There are other peoples, and other creatures, that have magic different from you, but just as important to them as yours is to you." She looked to each. "Do you understand."
"Yes, Mother Confessor," Tossidin said.
Prindin nodded his agreement. Chandalen grunted and folded his arms.
"The important thing, though, is not if you believe what you have can be called magic. The important thing is for you to understand that others believe what you do is magic. Many fear magic. They think you are evil because you practice this magic."
Kahlan pointed in the direction of the army of the Imperial Order. "Those men, the ones we chase, the ones who killed all the people back at the city, they are joined in a cause. They wish to rule all the people of the Midlands. They do not want any to live as they wish, but to bow to their rule."
"Why would they wish to rule the Mud People?" Prindin asked. "We have nothing they would want. We stay to our lands."
Chandalen unfolded his arms and spoke softly. "They fear magic, and they wish us to stop speaking with our ancestors."
Kahlan squeezed his shoulder. "That's right. But more than that, they think it's their duty to the spirits they worship, to kill you all. They are on a mission to destroy all who have magic, because they think magic is evil. They believe people like you have magic." She met Chandalen's eyes. "If they are not killed to a man, like the Jocopo, sooner or later, they will come and destroy the Mud People, just as they destroyed the city of Ebinissia."
The three men studied the ground in thought. She waited for them to weigh her words. Chandalen at last spoke.
"And they would kill the other people, those who wish not to have outsiders come to them, to live alone, like the Mud People?"
"They would. I spoke with the men of that army. They are like crazy men. They sound as if they have been visited by evil spirits, like the Bantak did. Like the Jocopo. They will not listen to reason. They think we are the ones who listen to evil spirits. They will do as they promise. You saw the city they destroyed and the size of the army defending it; it is not an empty threat.
"I must get to Aydindril so I can raise an army to fight these men. The Councilors should already be doing that, but I must get there to make sure the extent of the threat is known, to make sure all of the Midlands joins together in this.
"But there are no forces at hand to fight these men, now, except these boys. There are cities that will be destroyed before help can arrive. Worse, the threat these men pose will convince some to join with them. Some see honor as an inconvenience and will side with the army they think will win. This will swell their ranks further.
"Before Aydindril can send troops to find and defeat these men, many will die. We must call upon these boys to join the fight now, before more innocent people are slaughtered. These boys volunteered to become fighters, like you, to protect their people, the people of all the Midlands. We must help them in this. We must not let this army of evil men escape to wander the Midlands, killing and destroying, and winning more to their side.
"We must begin the battle with these boys, help them, show them, to make sure they will know how to fight, and to know they will continue without us to lead them. We must lead them into the first battle, to give them confidence in the ways we teach them, before we can be on our way to Aydindril."
Chandalen gave her a level look. "And you will call the lightning to help us?"
"No," Kahlan whispered. "I tried last night, but it didn't come. It is difficult to explain to you, but I believe that because I invoked this special magic on behalf of Richard, it will not work except to protect him. I'm sorry."
Chandalen unfolded his arms. "Then how did you kill so many?"
Kahlan patted his arm where the bone knife was. "The same way as your grandfather taught your father, and he you. I did not do as they expected. I did not fight their way." The two brothers leaned in intently as she spoke. "They like to drink, and when they are drunk, they don't think so well, and they are slow."
Tossidin pointed behind with a thumb. "These men, too, like to have drink at night. They have a wagon of it among their supplies. We would not let them have any. Some were angry. They said it was their right."
Kahlan shook her head. "These boys also thought it would be right to march right up to an enemy who outnumbers them ten to one and have a battle in broad daylight. We must help them in this. We must teach them what to do."
"They do not like to listen." Prindin glanced back over his shoulder, at the men he had been trying to teach. "They wish always to argue. They say 'this is the way it is done' and 'we must do it so.' They are filled only with the way they were taught, and do not like to be told another way."
"Yet that is what we must do," Kahlan said. "We must lead them in the way that will work. That is why I need you three. I need you to help me in this, or many people, including, eventually, the Mud People, will die. I need your help in this. I must lead them into battle."
Chandalen stood mute and unmoving. The two brothers pushed snow with their feet, considering. Prindin finally looked up.
"We will help. My brother and I will do as you ask."
"Thank you, Prindin, but it is not you who must decide. Chandalen must be the one who agrees. It is for him to decide."
The two brothers took sidelong glances at him as he stood glaring at her. At last he let out an exasperated breath.
"You are a stubborn woman. You are so stubborn you will get killed if we three are not there to bring some reason to your head. We go with you to kill these evil men."
Kahlan sighed with relief. "Thank you, Chandalen." She bent and took up a handful of snow, using it to scrub the dried blood from her face. "Now, I must go and tell these boys what they must do." She shook the snow from her hands when she had finished with her face. "Did you three get any sleep last night?"
"Some," Chandalen said.
"Good. After I speak with them, I need to get a few hours sleep. You can begin showing them how to travel without their wagons. We must teach them to be strong, like you. We will begin the killing tonight?"
Chandalen gave a grim nod. "Tonight."
40
Kahlan climbed atop a wagon before the assembled men. The men stood in brown wool coats, packed tightly together before her in the gray morning light. Captain Ryan, with his two lieutenants flanking him, stood at the front of the men. He leaned an arm on the wagon wheel, waiting.
Kahlan looked out at all the young faces. Boys. She was about to ask boys to die. But what choice did she have?
Dear mother, she wondered, is this the reason you chose Wyborn as my father? To teach me what I am about to do?
"I am afraid I have only one bit of good news for you," she began in a quite voice that carried through the cold air, out over the faces all watching her, "and so I will give you that first, to give you courage for the other things I have to tell you."
Kahlan took a deep breath. "Your Queen was not killed in Ebinissia, nor did the men
who attacked the city find or capture her. Either she was away when the attack came, or she escaped.
"Queen Cyrilla lives."
The boys seemed to take a deep breath, as if hoping she wouldn't add anything more, and then they erupted in wild cheering. They threw their arms in the air, shaking their fists at the sky. They yelled and hooted with joy and relief.
Kahlan stood in her blood-soaked, wolf mantle, her hands at her sides, letting them have their time of celebration and hope. Some of the boys, forgetting for the moment they were soldiers, hugged each other. She watched tears of happiness run down many a cheek as men leapt and shouted.
Kahlan stood feeling small and insignificant as the mob of boys poured out their adoration for her half sister. She couldn't bring herself to halt their rejoicing.
At last Captain Ryan climbed up onto the wagon next to her. He held his arms up, calling for silence.
"All right! All right! Hold it down! Stop acting like a bunch of children in front of the Mother Confessor! Show her what men you be!"
The cheering finally died out, to be replaced by grins and bright eyes. Captain Ryan clasped his hands together and cast her a somewhat sheepish look before taking a couple steps away atop the wagon, to give her her room.
"The people of Ebinissia," she went on, in the same quiet tone, "were not so fortunate."
The winter silence became brittle. Light breezes rustled icy branches on the trees ascending the slopes to either side of the flat, valley pass holding their camp. The grins withered.
"Every one of you, at the least, had friends who were murdered there. Many of you had loved ones, family, who died at the hands of the men a few hours up this pass." Kahlan cleared her throat and swallowed as her eyes found the ground. "I, too, knew people who died there."