Blood of the Fold

Chapter 23

When his whole body suddenly flushed with the sweet agony of desire, he knew, even though he couldn’t see her, that she had entered the room. His nostrils filled with her unmistakable scent, and already he ached to surrender. Like a furtive movement in the mist, he couldn’t discern the essence of the threat, but somehow in the dim recesses of his awareness he knew without doubt that there was one, and the exquisite peril, too, excited him.

With the desperation of a man being stormed by an overpowering foe, he clawed for the hilt of his sword, hoping to rally his resolve and stay the hand of submission. It wasn’t bared steel he sought, though, but the bared teeth of anger, a rage that would sustain him and give him the will to resist. He could do it. He had to; everything turned on this.

His hand anchored on the hilt at his belt, and he felt the flood of perfect fury coursing through his body and mind.

When Richard glanced up, he could see the approach of Ulic and Egan’s heads above the knot of people before him. Even if he hadn’t seen them, to see the space between them where she would be, he knew she was there. Soldiers and dignitaries began parting to make way for the two big men and their charge. Heads tilted in waves, reminding him of the rings of ripples in a pond, as they passed whispers to others. Richard recalled that the prophecies had also named him “the pebble in the pond”—the generator of ripples in the world of life.

And then he saw her.

His chest constricted with longing. She was wearing the same rose-colored silk dress that she had worn the night before, having no change of clothes with her. Richard recalled vividly how she had said she slept naked. He could feel his heart hammering.

With great effort, he struggled to put his mind to the task at hand. She looked with wide eyes at the soldiers she knew; they were her Keltish palace guard. Now, they wore D’Haran uniforms.

Richard had been up early, preparing everything. He hadn’t been able to get much sleep anyway, and the sleep he had gotten had been wracked with dreams of longing.

Kahlan, my love, can you ever forgive me my dreams?

With this many D’Haran troops in Aydindril, he had known there would be supplies of all sorts available, so he had ordered spare uniforms brought out. The Keltans, being disarmed as they were, were in no position to argue, but after they had put on the dark leather and mail, and had had a chance to see how fierce they looked in the new outfits, they began to grin with approval. They were told that Kelton was now a part of D’Hara, and were given back their weapons. They stood in rank, now, proud and straight as they kept an eye on the representatives of the other lands who had yet to surrender.

As it had turned out, the bad luck of the storm that had allowed Brogan to escape had also carried good fortune as a balance; the dignitaries had wanted to wait out the foul weather before departing, so Richard had taken what the fates had offered him and had brought them back to the palace before they were to leave later that morning. Only the highest, the most important, of those officials were present. He wanted them to witness the surrender of Kelton: one of the most powerful lands of the Midlands. He wanted them to have one final lesson.

Richard stood as Cathryn started up the steps at the side of the dais, her gaze sweeping the faces watching her. Berdine stepped back to give her room. Richard had positioned the three Mord-Sith at the far ends of the platform, where they wouldn’t be too close to him. He wasn’t interested in anything they might have to say.

When Cathryn’s brown-eyed gaze finally settled on him, he had to lock his knees to keep his legs from buckling. His left hand, gripping the hilt of his sword, was beginning to throb. He reminded himself that he didn’t need to be holding the sword to command its magic and chanced removing his hand to wiggle some feeling back into his fingers while he contemplated the tasks before of him.

When the Sisters of the Light had tried to teach him to touch his Han, they had had him use a mental picture to concentrate his inner will. Richard had selected an image of the Sword of Truth to be his focus, and he had it firmly fixed in his mind, now.

But for the battle with the people gathered before him today, his sword would be of no use. Today he would need the deft maneuvers devised with the aid of General Reibisch, his officers, and knowledgeable members of the palace staff, who had also helped with the arrangements. He hoped he had it all right.

“Richard, what—”

“Welcome, Duchess. Everything has been prepared.” Richard scooped up her hand and kissed it in a manner he judged befitting a queen being greeted before an audience, but touching her only fired his heat. “I knew you would want these representatives to witness your bravery at being the first to join with us against the Imperial Order, the first to break the path for the Midlands.”

“But I . . . well, yes . . . of course.”

He turned to the watching faces. They were a considerably more quiet and compliant group than they had been the last time, as they waited in tense anticipation.

“Duchess Lumholtz—whom you all know is soon to be named queen of Kelton—has committed her people to the cause of freedom, and wished you to be here to witness as she signs the documents of surrender.”

“Richard,” she whispered as she leaned a little closer, “I must . . . have them looked over by our barristers first . . . just to be sure everything is clear, and there will be no misunderstandings.”

Richard smiled reassuringly. “Though I’m sure you will find them quite clear, I’ve already anticipated your concern and took the liberty of inviting them to the signing.” Richard held a hand out to the other end of the dais. Raina seized a man’s arm and urged him up the steps. “Master Sifold, would you give your future queen your professional opinion?”

He bowed. “As Lord Rahl says, Duchess, the papers are quite clear. There is no room for misinterpretation.”

Richard lifted the ornately decorated document from the desk. “With your permission, Duchess, I would like to read it to the gathered representatives, so they may see that Kelton wishes this joining of our forces to be unequivocal. So they may see your bravery.”

Her head rose with pride before the eyes of the representatives of the other lands. “Yes. Please do, Lord Rahl.”

Richard glanced to the waiting faces. “Please bear with me; this isn’t long.” He held the paper up before himself and read it aloud. “Know all peoples, that Kelton hereby surrenders unconditionally to D’Hara. Signed, in my hand, as the duly appointed leader of the Keltish people, the Duchess Lumholtz.”

Richard set the document back on the desk and dunked the quill pen in a bottle of ink before offering it to Cathryn. She stood stiff and unmoving. Her face had gone ashen.

Fearing she would balk, he had no choice. Summoning strength he knew he was stealing from what he would need later, he put his lips close to her ear, enduring silently the torturous wave of longing at the warm fragrance of her flesh.

“Cathryn, after we finish here, would you go for a walk with me, just the two of us, alone? I dreamed of nothing but you.”

Radiant color bloomed in her cheeks. He thought she might put an arm around his neck and thanked the spirits when she didn’t.

“Of course, Richard,” she whispered back. “I, too, dreamed of nothing but you. Let’s get this formality over with.”

“Make me proud of you, of your strength.”

Richard thought that, surely, her smile would make others in the room blush. He could feel his ears burn at the meaning her smile conveyed.

She took the quill pen, brushing his hand as she did so, and held it up. “I sign this surrender with a quill from a dove, to signify that what I do is done willingly, in peace, and not as one defeated. I do it out of love for my people, and a hope for the future. That hope is this man here—Lord Rahl. I swear the undying vengeance of my people on any of you who would think to harm him.”

She bent and scrawled her sweeping signature across the bottom of the surrender document.

Before she could straighten, Richard produced more papers and slid them under her.

“What . . .”

“The letters you spoke of, Duchess. I didn’t want to weigh you down with the tedium of having to do the work yourself when we could put the time to a better purpose. Your aides helped me draw them up. Please check them, just to be sure all is as you intended when you made the offer last night.

“Lieutenant Harrington, of your palace guard, helped with the names of General Baldwin, commander of all Keltish forces, Division Generals Cutter, Leiden, Nesbit, Bradford, and Emerson, and a few of the guard commanders. There’s a letter to each for you to sign, ordering them to turn over all command to my D’Haran officers. Some of your palace guard officers will accompany a detachment of my men along with the new officers.

“Your adjutant aide, Master Montleon, has been of invaluable assistance with the instructions to Finance Minister Pelletier; Master Carlisle, the deputy administrator of strategic planning; the governors in charge of the trade commission, Cameron, Tuck, Spooner, Ashmore; as well as Levardson, Doudiet, and Faulkingham of the office of commerce.

“Coadjutant Schaffer, of course, drew up the list of your mayors. We didn’t want to offend anyone by leaving them out, of course, so he had several aides help him work up a complete list. There are letters here for them all, but of course the letters of instruction are the same, with just the proper name to each, so you only have to check over one, and then just sign the rest. We’ll handle it from there. I have men ready to ride with the official document pouches. A man from your guard will accompany each, just to make sure there’s no confusion. We have all the men from your guard here to witness your signature.”

Richard drew a breath and straightened as Cathryn, still holding the pen in midair, blinked at all the papers Richard had pushed before her. Her aides had all come up to surround her, proud of the job they had accomplished in such short order.

Richard leaned close to her again. “I hope I got it all as you wished, Cathryn. You said you’d take care of it, but I didn’t want to be away from you while you toiled at the work, so I rose early and took care of it for you. I hope you’re pleased.”

She glanced over letters, pushing them aside to look at others underneath. “Yes . . . of course.”

Richard slid a chair closer. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

When she had sat, and started signing her name, Richard pushed his sword out of the way and sat beside her, in the Mother Confessor’s chair. He settled his gaze on the people watching, and kept it there as he listened to the pen scratching. He kept the rage on a slow boil in order to concentrate.

Richard turned back to the smiling Keltish officials behind and to each side of her chair. “You’ve all performed a valuable service this morning, and I would be honored if you would be willing to continue in an official capacity. I’m sure I could use your talents in administering the growing D’Hara.”

After they had all bowed and thanked him for his generosity, he once again turned his attention to the silent group watching the proceedings. The D’Haran soldiers, especially the officers, having spent months stationed in Aydindril, had learned a great deal about trade in the Midlands. In the four days he had been with them searching for Brogan, Richard had learned all he could, and had added to that knowledge earlier that morning. When he knew the questions to ask, Mistress Sanderholt had proven to be a woman of vast knowledge gathered over years of having prepared the dishes of many lands. Food, as it turned out, was a reservoir of knowledge about a people. Her keen ear didn’t hurt, either.

“Some of the papers the duchess is signing are trade instructions,” Richard told the officials as Cathryn bent over her work. His eyes lingered on her shoulders. He willed them away. “Since Kelton is now part of D’Hara, you must understand that there can be no trade between Kelton and those of you who have not joined with us.”

He turned his gaze on a short, round man with a curly black and gray beard. “I realize, Representative Garthram, that this will put Lifany in an uncomfortable position. With Galea and Kelton’s borders now ordered sealed to anyone not part of D’Haran, you will have a very difficult time with trade.

“With Galea and Kelton to your north, D’Hara to your east, and the Rang’Shada Mountains to the west, you will be hard-pressed to find a source of iron. Most of what you purchased came from Kelton, and they bought grain from you, but Kelton will just have to buy their grain from the Galean warehouses now. Since they’re now both D’Haran there is no longer any reason for past animosity to hinder trade, and their armies are under my command so they won’t be wasting effort worrying about one another and instead will devote their attention to sealing the borders.

“D’Hara, of course, has a use for Keltish iron and steel. I suggest you find another source, and quickly, as the Imperial Order will probably attack from the south. Possibly right through Lifany, I would suspect. I will have no man spilling blood to protect lands not yet joined with us, nor will I reward hesitation with trade privileges.”

Richard turned his gaze to a tall, gaunt man with a ring of wispy white hair around the base of his knobby skull. “Ambassador Bezancort, I regret to inform you that the letter, here, to Kelton’s Commissioner Cameron, instructs him that all agreements with your homeland of Sanderia are hereby canceled until and unless you, too, are part of D’Hara. When spring comes, Sanderia will not be allowed to drive their herds up from your plains to spring and summer on the highlands of Kelton.”

The tall man lost what little color he had to begin with. “But, Lord Rahl, we have no place to spring and summer them; while those plains are a lush grassland in the winter, they are a brown and barren wasteland in the summer. What would you have us do?”

Richard shrugged. “I would suppose you’ll have to slaughter your herds in order to salvage what you can before they starve.”

The ambassador gasped. “Lord Rahl, these agreements have been in place for centuries. Our whole economy is based on the husbandry of our sheep.”

Richard lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not my concern; my concern is with those who stand with us.”

Ambassador Bezancort raised his hands in an imploring gesture. “Lord Rahl, my people would be ruined. Our whole country would be devastated if we were forced to slaughter our herds.”

Representative Theriault took an urgent step forward. “You can’t allow those herds to be slaughtered. Herjborgue depends on that wool. Why, why . . . it would ruin our industry.”

Another spoke up. “And then they couldn’t trade with us, and we would have no way to buy crops that won’t grow in our land.”

Richard leaned forward. “Then I suggest you impress these arguments on your leaders, and do your best to convince them that surrender is the only way. The sooner the better.” He looked out at the other dignitaries. “As interdependent as you all are I’m sure you will soon come to realize the value of unity. Kelton is part of D’Hara, now. The trade routes will be closed to any who fail to stand with us. I told you before, there are no bystanders.”

A riot of protests, appeals, and supplications filled the council chambers. Richard stood, and the voices fell to silence.

The Sanderian ambassador lifted a bony finger in accusation. “You are a ruthless man.”

Richard nodded, the magic heating his glare. “Be sure to tell that to the Imperial Order, if you choose to join with them.” He looked down on the other faces. “You all had peace and unity through the Council and the Mother Confessor. While she was away, fighting for you and your people, you threw that unity aside for ambition, for naked greed. You acted like children fighting over a cake. You had a chance to share it, but instead chose to try to steal it all from your smaller siblings. If you come to my table, you will have to mind your manners, but you each will have bread.”

No one offered an argument this time. Richard straightened his mriswith cape on his shoulders when he realized Cathryn had finished signing and was watching him with those big brown eyes. He couldn’t maintain the grip on the sword’s anger in the glow of her sweet gaze.

He turned back to the representatives, the rage gone from his tone. “The weather is clear. You had best be off. The sooner you convince your leaders to agree to my terms, the less inconvenience your people will suffer. I don’t want anyone to suffer . . .” His voice trailed off.

Cathryn stood next to him and looked down at the people she knew so well, “Do as Lord Rahl asks. He has given you enough of his time.” She turned and addressed one of her aides. “Have my clothes brought over at once. I’ll be staying here, at the Confessors’ Palace.”

“Why is she staying here?” one of the ambassadors asked as his brow wrinkled in suspicion.

“Her husband, as you know, was killed by a mriswith,” Richard said, “She is staying here for protection.”

“You mean there is danger for us?”

“Very possibly,” Richard said. “Her husband was an expert swordsman, yet he . . . well, I hope you will be careful. If you join with us then you are entitled to be guests of the palace, and the protection of my magic. There are plenty of empty guest rooms, but they will remain empty until you surrender.”

Accompanied by worried chatter, they headed for the doors.

“Shall we go?” Cathryn asked in a breathy voice.

His task done, Richard felt the sudden emptiness being filled with her presence. As she took his arm and they started away, he summoned the last shred of his will to stop at the end of the dais, where Ulic and Cara were standing.

“Keep us in sight at all times. Understand?”

“Yes, Lord Rahl,” Ulic and Cara said as one.

Cathryn tugged on his arm, urging his ear close. “Richard.” Her warm breath carrying his name sent a shudder of longing through him. “You said we would be alone. I want to be alone with you. Very alone. Please?”

It was from this moment that Richard had borrowed strength. He could no longer hold the image of the sword in his mind. In desperation, he put Kahlan’s face there in its stead.

“There is danger about, Cathryn. I can sense it. I won’t risk your life carelessly. When I don’t feel the danger, then we can be alone. Please try to understand, for now.”

She looked distraught, but nodded. “For now.”

As they stepped off the platform, Richard’s gaze snagged on Cara’s. “Don’t let us out of your sight for anything.”