Blood of the Fold

Chapter 43

Richard winced when he saw the boy knocked senseless. Some of the bystanders pulled him aside, and another boy took his place. Even from behind the high window in the Confessors’ Palace, he could hear the cheers from the crowd of children watching the boys play the game he had seen children in Tanimura playing: Ja’La.

In his homeland of Westland, he had never heard of Ja’La, but children in the Midlands played it just as did those in the Old World. The spirited game was fast-paced and looked exciting, but he didn’t think children should have to pay the price of having their teeth knocked out for the fun of a game.

“Lord Rahl?” Ulic called. “Lord Rahl, are you here?”

Richard turned from the window and let the comforting shroud go as he flung the black mriswith cape back over his shoulders.

“Yes, Ulic. What is it?”

The big guard strode into the room when he saw Richard seem to appear out of the air. He was used to the sight. “There’s a Keltish general here asking to see you. General Baldwin.”

Richard touched his fingertips to his forehead as his mind searched. “Baldwin, Baldwin.” He looked up. “General Baldwin. Yes, I remember. He’s the commander of all Keltish forces. We sent him a letter about Kelton’s surrender. What does he want?

Ulic shrugged. “He would say only that he wants to speak with Lord Rahl.”

Richard turned to the window, pushing the heavy gold drape back with a hand as he idly leaned against the painted window casing. He watched a boy doubled over, recovering from a hit with the broc. The boy straightened and went back to the play.

“How many men accompanied the general to Aydindril?”

“A small guard of five, maybe six hundred.”

“He was told that Kelton had surrendered. If he meant trouble, he wouldn’t march into Aydindril with so few men. I guess I had better see him.” He turned back to the attentive Ulic. “Berdine is busy. Have Cara and Raina escort the general in.”

Ulic clapped a fist to his heart and started to turn away, but turned back when Richard called his name. “Have the men found anything more at the bottom of the mountain below the Keep?”

“No, Lord Rahl, nothing more than all those parts of mriswith. The snow at the base of that cliff is drifted so deep that it will be spring, when it melts, before we can discover what else fell from the Keep. The wind could have carried whatever fell anywhere, and the soldiers have no idea where in that vast tract to dig. The mriswith arms and claws they found were light enough so that they didn’t drive under the snow. Anything heavier could have gone down ten, maybe twenty feet in that light, windblown fluff.”

Richard nodded in disappointment. “One other thing. The palace must have seamstresses. Find the head seamstress and ask her to please come see me.”

Richard pulled his black mriswith cape around himself without really thinking about what he was doing, and went back to watching the Ja’La game. He was impatient for Kahlan and Zedd to arrive. It shouldn’t be long, now. They must be close. Surely Gratch had found them and they would all be together soon.

He heard Cara’s voice behind him, at the door. “Lord Rahl?”

Richard turned, letting the cape fall open as he relaxed. Standing tall between the two Mord-Sith was a sturdily built older man with a white-flecked dark mustache, the ends of which grew down to the bottom of his jaw, and graying black hair growing down over his ears. His pate shone through where his hair was thinning.

He wore a heavy, semicircular serge cape, richly lined with green silk and fastened on one shoulder with two buttons. A tall, embroidered collar was turned down over a tan surcoat decorated with a heraldic emblem slashed through with a diagonal black line dividing a yellow and blue shield. The man’s high boots covered his knees. Long black gauntlets, their flared cuffs lying over the front, were tucked through a wide belt set with an ornate buckle.

As Richard became visible before his eyes, the general’s face paled and he lurched to a halt.

Richard bowed. “General Baldwin, I’m pleased to meet you. I am Richard Rahl.”

The general at last regained his composure and returned the bow. “Lord Rahl, I am honored that you would see me on such short notice.”

Richard gestured. “Cara, please bring a chair for the general. He must be weary from hts travel.”

After Cara had placed a simple tufted leather chair before the table, and the general had seated himself, Richard sat in his own chair behind the table. “What can I do for you, General Baldwin?”

The general glanced up at Raina standing behind his left shoulder, and Cara behind his right. Both women stood relaxed and silent with their hands clasped behind their backs, sending the unequivocal message that they had no intention of going anywhere.

“You may speak freely, General. I trust these two to watch over me when I sleep.”

He took a breath and seemed to relax a bit, accepting the assurance. “Lord Rahl, I’ve come about the queen.”

Richard had thought that might be it. He folded his hands on the table. “I’m very sorry about what happened, General.”

The general rested an arm on the table as he leaned in. “Yes, I’ve heard about the mriswith. I saw some of the loathsome beasts on the pikes outside.”

Richard had to stop himself when he almost said that they might be beasts, but they weren’t loathsome. A mriswith, after all, had killed Cathryn Lumholtz as she was about to murder him, but the general wasn’t likely to understand, so Richard kept it to himself, and said instead, “I deeply regret that your queen was killed while under my roof.”

The general flipped his hand dismissively. “I meant no imputation, Lord Rahl. What I mean is that I’ve come about Kelton being without a king or queen, now that Cathryn Lumholtz is dead. She was the last successor to the throne, and with her sudden death, it presents a problem.”

Richard kept his voice friendly, but official “What sort of problem? You are part of us, now.”

The man distorted his features in an offhanded expression, “Yes, we received the surrender documents. But the queen who led us is now dead. While she was in power, she acted within her authority, but we find ourselves at a loss as to how to proceed.”

Richard frowned. “You mean you need a new queen, or king?”

He shrugged apologetically. “It is our way to have a monarch lead our people. Even if it’s only symbolic, now that we’ve surrendered to the union with D’Hara, it gives the Keltish people esteem to have a king or queen. Without one the people feel that they are no more than nomads, without roots—without anything in common to tie them together.

“Since there is no Lumholtz in line of succession, one of the other Houses could come to the fore. None has the right to claim the throne, but one could eventually win the right. A contested throne could cause a civil war, though.”

“I see,” Richard said. “You realize, of course, that whoever you choose for your king or queen doesn’t make any difference as far as your surrender is concerned. The surrender is irrevocable.”

“It’s not so simple. That’s why I’ve come to seek your help.”

“How can I help?”

The general kneaded his chin. “You see, Lord Rahl, Queen Cathryn surrendered Kelton to you, but now she’s dead. Until we have a new monarch, we are your subjects. You are the equivalent of our king until a true monarch is named. However, if one of these Houses ascends to the throne, it could be that they see it differently.”

Richard kept his tone from sounding as threatening as he felt. “I don’t care how they see it. That river has been crossed.”

The general waggled his hand as if to implore patience. “I think the future lies with you, Lord Rahl. The problem is that if the wrong House finally comes to the throne, they might have different ideas. Quite frankly, I would never have thought that the House of Lumholtz would have chosen to go with you and D’Hara. You must have been very persuasive to make the queen see reason.

“Some of these dukes and duchesses are talented at playing games of power, but not at what is in the best interest of all. These duchies are almost sovereign, and their subjects bow only to a monarch. There are those who would speak persuasively for Kelton to heed the word of the Crown, and not D’Hara, should one of the wrong Houses come to the throne and declare the surrender invalid. Civil war would be the result.

“I’m a soldier, and view events with a soldier’s eyes. A soldier likes least of all fighting in a civil war. I have men from every duchy. Civil war would tear the unity of the army apart, destroy us, and leave us vulnerable to true enemies.”

Richard filled the silence. “I’m listening, go on.”

“As I said, as a man who understands the value of unity, of unified authority, I think the future lies with you. Right now, until there is a new ruler on the throne you are the law.”

General Baldwin leaned sideways against the table and lowered his voice meaningfully. “Since you are the law at the moment, if you were to name a king or queen, then that would settle the matter. See what I mean? The Houses would be obligated to honor the new ruler, and go with you, if the new ruler says it is to be as has already been done.”

Richard squinted. “You make it sound like a game, General. Moving this piece on the board to block an opposing piece before the opponent has his turn to take your marker.”

He smoothed down his mustache. “It’s your move, Lord Rahl.”

Richard leaned back in his chain. “I see.” He thought a moment, not knowing how he was going to get out of this. Maybe he could ask the general’s advice as to which House would be loyal. He didn’t think that would be wise, though, trusting a man who just walked in and announced his intent to help. It could be a ruse.

He glanced at Cara, who stood to the side behind the general. Her shoulders were hunched and her face wore a silent, confounded expression. When he moved his gaze to Raina, she signaled that she, too, didn’t have any suggestions.

Richard rose and went to the window, staring out at the people in the city. He wished Kahlan were here. She knew all about this kind of thing: the ways of royalty and rulers. This taking-over-the-Midlands business was constantly proving more complicated than he had expected.

He could simply order this nonsense stopped, and send in D’Haran troops to enforce his orders, but that would waste valuable men taking care of what should already be settled. He could leave the matter until later, but he needed Kelton to remain loyal—other lands’ surrender hinged on Kelton. He already had Kelton, but if he made a mistake, all his plans could end in ashes.

Richard wished Kahlan would hurry up and get to Aydindril. She could tell him what he needed to do. Perhaps he could stall until she and Zedd arrived, and with her advice, do the right thing. She should be here soon. But would it be soon enough?

Kahlan, what should I do?

Kahlan.

Richard turned back to the waiting general. “Since Kelton needs a monarch to stand as a symbol of hope and leadership of all Keltish people, I shall name one for you.”

The general waited expectantly.

“By my authority as Master of D’Hara, to whom Kelton owes its allegiance, I name your queen.

“From this day forward, Kahlan Amnell is the Queen of Kelton.”

General Baldwin’s eyes widened as he came out of his chair. “You name Kahlan Amnell as our queen?”

Richard hardened his gaze as his hand settled on the hilt of his sword. “I do. All Kelton will bow to her. Like your surrender, this order is irrevocable.”

General Baldwin dropped to his knees, his head hanging low. “Lord Rahl, I can hardly believe you would do this for my people. We are grateful.”

Richard, his hand on the verge of drawing his sword, paused at the general’s words. He hadn’t expected such a reaction.

The general finally came to his feet before the table. “Lord Rahl, I must leave at once to bring this glorious news to our troops. They will be as honored as I to be the subjects of Kahlan Amnell.”

Richard, unsure how to react, remained noncommittal. “I’m pleased that you would accept my choice, General Baldwin.”

The general spread his arms. “Accept? This is beyond my hopes, Lord Rahl. Kahlan Amnell is the queen of Galea. It has been a cause of strife in our land that the Mother Confessor herself would serve as queen to our rival, Galea, but to now have her as our queen, too, well, it will prove that the Lord Rahl holds us in the same high esteem as Galea. When you are wedded to her, you will be wedded to our people, too, the same as the Galeans.”

Richard was stiff and speechless. How did the man know that Kahlan was the Mother Confessor? Dear spirits, what had happened?

General Baldwin reached out and pulled Richard’s hand from his sword, clasping it in a warm embrace. “Lord Rahl, this is the greatest honor our people have ever received: to have the Mother Confessor herself as our queen. Thank you, Lord Rahl, thank you.”

General Baldwin was grinning joyously, but Richard was on the verge of panic. “It is my hope, General, that this will seal our unity.”

Waving a hand, the general laughed with glee. “For all time, Lord Rahl. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return at once to let our people know of this great day.”

“Of course,” Richard managed to get out.

General Baldwin clasped hands with Cara and Raina before rushing from the room. Richard stood stunned.

Cara frowned. “Lord Rahl, is something wrong? Your face is as pale as ashes.”

Richard finally took his gaze from the door the general had gone through, and looked to her. “He knew that Kahlan is the Mother Confessor.”

Cara’s brow twitched as if she were mystified. “Everyone knows that your bride-to-be, Kahlan Amnell, is the Mother Confessor.”

“What?” he whispered. “You know, too?”

She and Raina nodded, Raina speaking. “Naturally. Lord Rahl, you do not look well. Are you ill? Perhaps you should sit down.”

Richard looked from Raina’s questioning face back to Cara. “She had a spell on her to protect her. No one knew she was the Mother Confessor. No one. A great wizard used magic to hide her identity. You never knew before.”

Cara frowned, truly puzzled, now. “We didn’t? That’s most odd, Lord Rahl. It seems to me that I’ve always known she was the Mother Confessor.” Raina nodded her agreement.

“Impossible,” Richard said. He turned to the door. “Ulic! Egan!”

They burst through the door almost instantly, poised and ready for combat. “What is it, Lord Rahl?”

“Who am I to marry?”

Both men straightened is surprise. “The Queen of Galea, Lord Rahl,” Ulic said.

“Who is she!”

The two men shared a confused glimpse at one another. “Well,” Egan said “she is the queen of Galea—Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor.”

“The Mother Confessor is supposed to be dead! Don’t any of you remember the speech I gave to all the representatives, down in the council chambers? Don’t you remember how I talked about how they should honor the memory of the dead Mother Confessor by joining with D’Hara?”

Ulic scratched his head. Egan stared at the floor while he sucked the tip of a finger in concentration, Raina looked to the others, hoping they would have an answer. Cara’s face finally brightened.

“I think I remember, Lord Rahl,” she said. “But I think you were speaking of past Mother Confessors in general, not your bride-to-be.”

Richard looked from one face to another as each nodded. Something was wrong.

“Look, I know you don’t understand, but this involves magic.”

“You’re right, then, Lord Rahl,” Raina said, turning more serious. “If there’s a magic spell involved, then the spell would deceive us. You have magic, so you would be able to discern the difficulty. We must trust in what you tell us about magic.”

Richard rubbed his hands together as he looked off, his eyes unable to find a place to settle. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. But what? Maybe Zedd lifted the spell. Maybe he had a reason. It could be that there was nothing wrong. Zedd was with her. Zedd would protect her. Richard spun around.

“The letter. I sent them a letter. Maybe Zedd removed the spell because he knows that I’ve taken Aydindril from the Imperial Order, so he didn’t think there was any need to keep her spelled.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Cara offered.

Richard felt a wave of worry rise into his throat. What if Kahlan was furious that he had ended the alliance of the Midlands and had demanded the surrender of the lands to D’Hara, and so she had insisted that Zedd take off the spell to let people know the Midlands still had a Mother Confessor? If so, that would mean she wasn’t in trouble, but that she was angry with him. Anger he could accept. Trouble, he could not. If she was in trouble, he had to help her.

“Ulic, please go find General Reibisch and bring him to me at once.” Ulic tapped a fist to his chest and rushed from the room. “Egan, you go visit some of the officers and men. Don’t act as if it’s anything out of the ordinary. Just engage them in conversation about me, maybe my marriage or something like that. See if others also know that Kahlan is the Mother Confessor.”

Richard paced and thought as he waited for General Reibisch to arrive. What should he do? Kahlan and Zedd should be here at any time, but what if something was wrong? Even if Kahlan was angry about what he had done, that wouldn’t stop her from coming to Aydindril, it would only make her want to talk him out of it, or lecture him on the history of the Midlands and what he was destroying.

Maybe she would want to tell him that their marriage was off, and she never wanted see him again. No. He could not believe that. Kahlan loved him, and even if she was angry, he refused to believe that she would willingly put anything before her love for him. He had to believe in her love, just as she had to believe in his.

The door opened and Berdine struggled into the room with her arms full of books and papers. She had a pen between her teeth. She smiled as best she could with the pen in her mouth, and dumped the things on the table.

“We need to talk,” she whispered, “if you’re not busy.”

“Ulic went out to look for General Reibisch. It’s urgent that I talk to him.”

Berdine glanced to Cara, Raina, and the door. “Do you want me to leave, Lord Rahl? Is something wrong?”

Already, Richard had learned enough to know he was right about the journal they had found being important. He could do nothing until Reibisch returned.

“Who am I to marry?”

Berdine opened a book on the table as she sat in his chair and shuffled through the papers she had brought. “Queen Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor.” She looked up hopefully. “Do you have a bit of time? I could use your help.”

Richard sighed and went around the desk to stand beside her. “Until General Reibisch gets here I’ve got time. What do you need?”

With the back end of her pen, she tapped the open journal. “I’ve almost got this bit here translated, and it seems he was emphatic about it when he wrote it, but I’m missing two words that I think are important.” She pulled the High D’Haran version of The Adventures of Bonnie Day around before them. “I’ve found a place with the same two words in this. If you can remember what it says, I’ll have it.”

Richard had read The Adventures of Bonnie Day countless times, it was his favorite book, and he thought he could recite it by heart. He had discovered that he could not. He knew the book well, but remembering the exact words proved harder than he had thought it would be. He could remember the story, but not the exact story, word for word. Unless he could tell her the exact words of a sentence, the gist of the story wasn’t often of much help.

He had gone to the Keep several times and searched for a version of the book he could read so they could cross-reference the D’Haran version, but he hadn’t been able to find one. It was frustrating that he couldn’t be of more help.

Berdine pointed to a place in The Adventures of Bonnie Day. “I need these two words. Can you tell me what this sentence says?”

Richard’s hopes rose. It was the beginning of a chapter. He had had the most success with the beginnings of chapters because the starting places were memorable.

“Yes! This is the chapter where they leave. I remember. It starts, ‘For the third time that week, Bonnie violated her father’s rule about not going into the woods alone.’ ”

Berdine leaned over, looking at the line. “Yes, this is ‘violated,’ I’ve already got that one. This word here is ‘rule,’ and this one ‘third’?”

Richard nodded when she glanced up. Grinning with the thrill of discovery, she dipped her pen in the bottle of ink and started writing on one of the sheets of paper she had brought, filling in a few of the blank places. When she finished, she proudly slid the paper over in front of him.

“This is what it says in this bit of the journal.”

Richard picked up the paper and held it up in the tight coming over his shoulder from the window.

The arguments rage on among us. Wizard’s Third Rule: Passion rules reason, I fear this most insidious of rules may be our ruin. Though we know better, I fear some of us are violating it anyway. Each faction presses that their course of action is reason, but in the desperation, I fear all are passion. Even Alric Rahl sends frantic word of a solution. Meanwhile, the dream walkers scythe through our men. I pray the towers can be completed, or we are all lost. Today I said good-bye to friends leaving for the towers. I wept to know I will never see those good men again in this world. How many will die in the towers for the cause of reason? But alas, I know the worse cost should we violate the Third Rule.

When Richard finished the translation, he turned away, toward the window. He had been in those towers. He knew that wizards had given their life force into them to ignite the tower’s spells, but they had never seemed real people to him before. It was chilling to read the anguish in the words of the man whose bones had lain in that room in the Keep for thousands of years. Through the words in the journal, his bones seemed to be coming to life.

Richard thought about the Third Rule, trying to reason it out for himself. Before, for the first and second, he had had Zedd, and then Nathan to explain it for him, to make him see how the rules worked in life. He would have to work this one out himself.

He recalled going down to the roads leading out of Aydindril, to talk to some of the people fleeing the city. He had wanted to know why they would leave, and had been told by fearful people that they knew the truth: that he was a monster who would slaughter them for his twisted pleasure.

When pressed, they quoted rumor as if it were fact seen with their own eyes, rumor of how the Lord Rahl had children as slaves in the palace, how he took countless young women to his bed, leaving them senseless from the experience to wander the streets naked. They claimed to know young women and girls whom he had gotten pregnant, and furthermore knew people who had actually seen the miscarriages of some of these poor victims of his rape, and they had been hideous, misshapen freaks, the spawn of his evil seed. They spat at him for the crimes he committed against helpless people.

He asked them how they could be so frank with him if he were such a monster. They said that they knew he wouldn’t do them harm in the open, that they had heard how he pretended to be compassionate in public so as to fool people, so they knew he would do nothing to them in front of the crowds, and they would soon have their womenfolk away from his evil clutches.

The more Richard tried to put to rest the baffling beliefs, the more tenaciously the people clung to them. They said they had heard these things from too many others for it to be anything but true. Such common knowledge could not be false, they said, as it would be impossible to fool so many people. They were passionate in their belief and their fear, and would hear no arguments of logic. They simply wanted to be left alone to run to the protection they had heard was offered by the Imperial Order.

Their passion was going to bring them to true ruin. He wondered if this could be how violation of the Third Rule hurt people. He didn’t know if it was a solid enough example. It seemed tangled with the First Rule: People would believe any lie, either because they wanted it to be true, or because they feared it was. It seemed in could be several rules mixed together, violated in tandem, and he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

And then Richard recalled the day back home in Westland when Mrs. Rencliff, who could not swim, had wrenched her arms from the men trying to hold her back, refusing to wait for the rowboat, and had leapt into a flood swollen river after her boy who had fallen in. The men rushed up a few minutes later with the rowboat and saved the boy’s life. Chad Rencliff grew up without a mother; they never found her body.

Richard’s skin prickled as if ice had touched it. He understood. Wizard’s Third Rule: Passion rules reason.

It was a distressing hour of detailing the way people’s passion instead of reason brought them to harm, and worse, wondering how magic could add ruin to the equation, as he knew it would, before Ulic finally returned with the general.

General Reibisch clapped a fist to his heart as he entered the room. “Lord Rahl, Ulic said you were in a hurry to see me.”

Richard gripped the bearded man’s dark uniform. “How long will it take you to get men ready to leave on a search?”

“Lord Rahl, they’re D’Harans. D’Haran soldiers are always ready to leave on a moment’s notice.”

“Good. You know my bride-to-be, Queen Kahlan Amnell?”

General Reibisch nodded. “Yes. The Mother Confessor.”

Richard winced. “Yes, the Mother Confessor. She’s on her way here from the southwest. She’s past due, and there may be trouble. She had a spell over her to protect her identity as the Mother Confessor, so that her enemies couldn’t hunt her. Somehow, the spell has been removed. It might be nothing, but it could be that it means trouble. For sure, her enemies will now know of her.”

The man scratched his rust-colored beard. His grayish green eyes came up at last. “I see. What would you like me to do?”

“We have close to two hundred thousand men in Aydindril, with another hundred thousand scattered all around the perimeter of the city. I don’t know exactly where she is, except that she’s supposed to be to the southwest and on her way here. We have to protect her.

“I want you to get a force together, half the troops in the city, a hundred thousand at least, to go out after her.”

The general stroked his scar as he heaved a sigh. “That’s a lot of men, Lord Rahl. Do you think we need to take that many from the city?”

Richard paced between the desk and the general. “I don’t know exactly where she is. If we take too few we could miss her by fifty miles and wander off without ever making contact. With that many men we can fan out as we go, cast a wide net, covering all the roads and trails so we don’t miss her.”

“You will be going with us, then?”

Richard desperately wanted to go find Kahlan and Zedd. He glanced to Berdine sitting behind the desk as she worked, and thought about the words of warning from a three-thousand-old wizard. Wizard’s Third Rule: Passion rules reason.

Berdine needed his help to translate the journal. He was already learning important things about the last war, and the towers, and the dream walkers. A dream walker again walked the world.

If he did go, and Kahlan slipped past him where he searched, it might take longer for him to join with her than if he simply waited in Aydindril. And then there was the Keep. Something had happened at the Keep, and it was his duty to guard the magic there.

Richard’s passion told him to go—he desperately wanted to go search for Kahlan—but in his mind’s eye, he saw Mrs. Rencliff diving into the dark, rushing water, refusing to wait for the boat. These men were his boat.

The troops could find Kahlan and protect her. He could do nothing to add to that protection. Reason told him to wait here, as much anxiety as that would cause him. Like it or not, he was a leader now. A leader had to act with reason, or everyone would pay the price of his passion.

“No, General. I’ll remain in Aydindril. Get the troops together. Take the best trackers.” He looked to the man’s eyes. “I know I don’t have to tell you how important this is to me.”

“No, Lord Rahl,” the general said in a compassionate tone. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her. I’ll go with the men to make certain that everything is done with the same care as you would do it if you were there.” He put his fist to his heart. “Every one of our lives before harm touches your queen.”

Richard laid a hand to the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, General Reibisch. I know I could do no more than you will. May the good spirits be with you.”