Soul of the Fire

Chapter 52

Richard signed impatiently as he surveyed the people enjoying the dinner. An intimate dinner, Bertrand Chanboor had called it. Kahlan had whispered to Richard that, for Anderith, fifty or sixty people was considered an intimate dinner.

When Richard looked out at the people, many of them, especially the men, glanced away. Many of the women did not. It was fortunate, the way they were batting their lashes at him, that Kahlan was not jealous. She hadn’t really been jealous of Du Chaillu; she knew the woman was simply trying to nettle him. He knew, though, he was going to have to explain how innocent his single bath with Du Chaillu had been.

It was hard explaining anything to Kahlan, what with having so many people around all the time. Even when they slept, they had blade masters, and now troops, standing over them every minute. It wasn’t very intimate, much less romantic. He was beginning to forget they were married, for all the time they had alone together.

Their purpose, though, made such considerations pale into insignificance. The awareness of people dying because of the chimes being loose was not conducive to intimacy.

Sitting close to her, sharing food from the trencher, seeing the lamplight reflect in her green eyes, off her hair, seeing the way her thick tresses nestled in the curve of her neck, he was beginning to think about weeks before, in the spirit house—the last time he had made love to her . . . remembering her lush naked body. It was an impossible mental image to forget.

Kahlan cleared her throat. “He asked you a question, Richard,” she whispered.

Richard blinked. “What?”

“Minister Chanboor asked you a question.”

Richard turned to the other side. “I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere. On an important action.”

“Yes, of course,” Minister Chanboor said, smiling. “I was just curious as to where you grew up.”

A long-forgotten memory of youth surfaced in Richard’s mind, a memory of wrestling with his older brother—his stepbrother, Michael. He had so enjoyed the playful tumbles they had. It had been a time of laughter. “Oh, you know—wherever there was a good fight.”

The Minister stumbled around for words. “I, I suppose you had a good teacher.”

His stepbrother had later, when they were grown, betrayed him to Darken Rahl. Michael had betrayed many people. Because of Michael’s betrayal, many innocent people had died.

“Yes,” Richard said, the memory standing in stark relief between him and the Minister’s expectant face. “I did have a good teacher. Last winter I had him beheaded.”

The Minister paled.

Richard turned back to Kahlan. She hid her smile. “Good answer,” she whispered to him from behind a napkin so she couldn’t be heard over the music coming from the harp set before and below their table.

The Lady Chanboor, on Kahlan’s other side, if she was appalled, didn’t show it. Dalton Campbell, on the far side of the Minister, raised an eyebrow. Beyond him, his wife, Teresa, a nice woman, Richard thought, hadn’t heard his words. When Dalton turned and whispered them to her, her eyes went wide, more in titillation than horror.

Kahlan had warned him these people responded to power, and suggested he show them more intimation of force than offers of accommodation if they were to gain the Anders’ cooperation.

The Minister, a piece of rolled beef dripping a red sauce in his fingers, gestured and sought to change the subject to something less bloody.

“Lord Rahl, don’t you wish any meat?”

The meat course seemed to Richard to have gone on for an hour. He decided to tell the man the flat truth.

“I’m a war wizard, Minister Chanboor. Like my father, Darken Rahl, I don’t eat meat.” Richard paused to be certain he had the attention of everyone at the table. “Wizards, you see, must maintain balance in their lives. Not eating meat is balance for all the killing I do.”

The harpist missed a note. Everyone else held their breath.

Richard filled the dragging silence. “I’m certain that by now you have heard the proposal I’ve made for the lands of the Midlands to join with us. The terms are fair and equitable to all. Your representatives would have brought our terms to you. If you join willingly, your people will be welcomed. If you oppose us . . . well, if you oppose us, then we will have to conquer you and the terms will be harsh.”

“So I’ve been told,” the Minister said.

Kahlan leaned in. “And you have been informed my word backs Lord Rahl’s? You know my advice is for all lands to join us?”

The Minister tipped his head in a slight bow. “Yes, Mother Confessor, and please be assured we value greatly your sound advice.”

“Then is it your intention to join with us, Minister, in our struggle for freedom?”

“Well . . . you see, Mother Confessor, it is not quite that simple.”

“Fine,” Richard said, beginning to rise. “I will see the Sovereign, then.”

“You can’t,” Dalton Campbell said.

Richard, a scowl growing, sank back down. “And why would that be?”

The Minister licked his lips. “The Sovereign, the Creator watch over his blessed soul, is very ill. He is bedridden. Not even I have been able to see him. He is in no condition to talk, from what the healers and his wife tell me. Speaking with him would be hopeless, since he is rarely conscious.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kahlan said. “We had no idea.”

“We would take you to see him, Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl,” Dalton Campbell said in a sincere-sounding voice, “but the man is so ill he would be unable to offer his advice.”

The harpist went into a louder, more complex and dramatic piece, using every string, it seemed.

“Then you will have to decide without his advice,” Richard said. “The Imperial Order is already invading the New World. We need everyone we can get to resist their tyranny, lest their dark shadow cover us all.”

“Well,” the Minister said as he intently picked at invisible things on the tablecloth, “I want the land of Anderith to join with you and your noble cause. I really do. As do most of the people of Anderith, I’m sure—”

“Good. Then that’s settled.”

“Well, no, it’s not.” Minister Chanboor looked up. “Though I might wish it, as would my wife, and as Dalton has so forcefully advised we do, we cannot decide something this important on our own.”

“The Directors?” Kahlan asked. “We will speak with them straightaway.”

“They are part of it,” the Minister said, “but not all. There are others who must be part of such a momentous decision.”

Richard sat puzzled. “Who else is there?”

The Minister leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the room for a time before his dark eyes turned back to Richard.

“The people of Anderith.”

“You are the Minister of Culture,” Kahlan said heatedly as she leaned in. “You speak for them. You have but to say it will be so and it will.”

The man spread his hands. “Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl, you are asking us to surrender our sovereignty. I can’t callously do that on my own.”

“That is why it is called ‘surrender,’ ” Richard growled.

“But you are asking our people to cease to be who they are, and become one with you and your people. I don’t think you realize what that means. You are asking us to surrender not only our sovereignty, but our very culture.

“Don’t you see? We would cease to be who we are. We have a culture stretching back thousands of years. Now you come in, one man, and ask the people to throw away all that history? How can you think it so simple a matter to forget our heritage, our forebears, our culture?”

Richard drummed his fingers on the table. He gazed out at the people enjoying the dinner, who had no idea how important were the words being spoken at the head table.

“You misstate it, Minister Chanboor. We have no desire to destroy your culture”—Richard leaned toward the man—“although from what I’ve heard of it, there are unfair aspects of it that will not be allowed. Under our law, everyone is treated equally.

“As long as you follow the common laws, you may retain your culture.”

“Yes, but—”

“In the first place, it is a matter of necessity to the very freedom of hundreds of thousands of people of the New World. We will not tolerate a risk to so many. If you don’t join us, we will conquer you. When that happens, you will lose your say in the common laws we set down, and, you will pay penalties that will cripple your land for a generation.”

The heat in Richard’s eyes moved the Minister back a few inches. “Worse, though, would be if the Imperial Order gets to you first. They will not impose financial penalties, they will crush you. They will murder and enslave you.”

“The Imperial Order demanded the surrender of Ebinissia—” Kahlan said in a distant voice. “I was there. I saw what the Order did to those people when they refused to surrender and become slaves. The men of Imperial Order tortured and butchered every man, woman, and child in the city. Every last one. Not one person was left alive.”

“Well, any men who would—”

“Over fifty thousand men of the Order participated in slaughtering the innocent people of Ebinissia,” Kahlan said in a coldly powerful voice. “I led the troops who hunted them down. We killed every last man who had been in on the butchery in Ebinissia.”

Kahlan leaned toward the Minister. “Many wept for mercy. I have declared, as Mother Confessor, no mercy for the Order. That includes any who side with them. We killed every last one of those men, Minister Chanboor. Every last one.”

The frightful chill of her words stunned everyone at the table into silence. Dalton, Campbell’s wife, Teresa looked as though she might run from the table.

“Your only salvation,” Richard finally said, “is to join with us. Together, we are forming a formidable force capable of turning back the Imperial Order and preserving peace and freedom in the New World.”

Minister Chanboor finally spoke. “As I said, if it were my choice, I would agree to join you, as would my wife, as would Dalton. The problem is, Emperor Jagang has made generous offers to people here, offers of peace and—”

Kahlan shot to her feet. “What! You have been talking to those murderers!”

Some of the people around the room paused in their conversations to glance up at the head table. Some, Richard had noticed, had never taken their eyes off the Minister and his guests.

The Minister, for the first time, seemed undaunted. “When your land is threatened with extinction by opposing forces, neither of which were invited to demand our surrender, it is our duty as leaders and advisors to listen to what each side has to say. We wish no war, but war is being thrust upon us. It is incumbent on us to hear what our choices might be. You cannot fault us for listening to our options.”

“Freedom or slavery,” Richard said, standing beside his wife.

The Minister stood up, too. “Listening to what people have to say is not considered an offense, here in Anderith. We don’t attack people before they make threats. The Imperial Order implored us not to listen to what you have to say, but here you are. We offer people the opportunity to speak.”

Richard’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He expected to feel the raised letters made of gold wire, the letters spelling out the word “Truth.” He was momentarily surprised to find them missing.

“And what lies did the Order tell you, Minister?”

Minister Chanboor shrugged. “As I said, we like your offer better.”

He held his hand out in invitation. Reluctantly, Richard and Kahlan returned to their seats.

“I must tell you right up front, Minister,” Richard said, “whatever it is you want, we’ll not give it to you. Don’t even bother listing to us your conditions. As we’ve explained to your representatives back in Aydindril, we have made the same offer to all the lands. In order to be fair to all, there can be no exceptions, and no special accommodations for some.”

“We ask for none,” Minister Chanboor said.

When Kahlan touched Richard’s back, he recognized it as a signal to take a breath and keep hold of his temper. He took the deep breath and reminded himself of their purpose. Kahlan was right. He had to think, and not just react.

“All right, Minister, what is the problem keeping you from accepting our terms of surrender?”

“Well, as I said, if it were up to me and—”

“What is the problem?” Richard’s tone was deadly, deep breath or not.

He was already considering his troops, less than a mile away. The guards at the estate would present little opposition for such elite D’Haran soldiers. It was not an option he wished to fall back on, but he might be forced to it. They couldn’t let the Minister—inadvertently or otherwise—interfere with stopping Jagang.

The Minister cleared his throat. Everyone else at the table was rigid, almost afraid to move, as if they could read Richard’s thoughts in his eyes.

“This affects everyone in our land. You are asking us to forsake our culture, as is the Imperial Order—although with you it would be less of a change and we would be able to retain some of our ways.

“This is not something I can impose on our people. It must be up to them.”

Richard’s brow twitched. “What? What do you mean?”

“I can’t dictate such a thing to our people. They will have to decide for themselves what to do.”

Richard lifted a hand. He let it fall back to the table. “But, how can they do that?”

The Minister wet his lips. “They will all decide what shall be the fate of all by their vote.”

“Their what?” Kahlan asked.

“Their vote. They must each be given the opportunity to state their wishes in this.”

“No,” Kahlan said flatly.

The Minister spread his hands. “But, Mother Confessor, you say this is about the freedom of our people. How can you insist I impose such a thing on them without their say?”

“No,” Kahlan repeated.

Everyone else at the table seemed in shock. Lady Chanboor’s eyes looked as if they might pop from her head at her husband’s suggestion. Dalton Campbell sat stiffly, his mouth hanging open a bit. Teresa’s brows were arched in shock. Clearly, none of them had known Minister Chanboor’s intention, nor did they look to believe it wise, but they remained silent, nonetheless.

“No,” Kahlan said again.

“And how can you expect our people to believe your sincerity in the cause of freedom, if you refuse to allow them to choose their own fate? If what you offer is truly freedom, then why would you fear the people exercising freedom in choosing it? If what you offer is so fair and good, and the Imperial Order so brutal and unfair, then why would you not allow our people to freely choose to join with you? Is there something in it so vile you would not allow them to see their fate and choose it willingly?”

Richard glanced back at Kahlan. “He has a point—”

“No,” Kahlan snapped.

Still no one else moved, so intent were they on the future of their land, hanging in the balance.

Richard took Kahlan’s arm. He turned briefly to the Minister. “If you will excuse us for a moment, there are a few matters we must discuss.”

Richard pulled Kahlan away from the table, back near the curtains behind the service table. He glanced out the window to make sure no one was nearby, listening. People at the head table, rather than watching, sat back in silence and looked out at the dining room full of people eating, talking, and laughing, not realizing the drama taking place at the head table.

“Kahlan, I don’t see why—”

“No. No, Richard, no. What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“The part that has your reason in it.”

She heaved an impatient sigh. “Look, Richard, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. No, that isn’t correct. I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“All right. Kahlan, you know I depend on your opinion in things like this—”

“Then take it. No.”

In frustration, Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. He glanced around again. They were being ignored.

“What I was about to say is, I’d like to know your reason. The man has a point. If we’re offering people a chance to join us in our fight for the freedom of everyone, then why would we deny them a chance to freely choose to join our side? Freedom shouldn’t be something imposed on unwilling people.”

Kahlan squeezed his arm. “I can’t give you a reason, Richard. Yes, it sounds right. Yes, I understand the reasoning behind it. Yes, it would only be fair.”

Her hand on his arm tightened. “But my gut instinct is screaming ‘no.’ I must trust my instinct in this, Richard, and so must you. It’s strong and it’s insistent. Don’t you do this.”

Richard wiped a hand across his face. He tried to come up with a reason they should oppose such a thing. He was only beginning to come up with more reasons it would make sense—and for more than the simple need of Anderith siding against the Order.

“Kahlan, I trust you, I really do. You’re the Mother Confessor, and have had a lifetime of learning and experience in ruling people. I’m just a woods guide. But I’d like a little more reason than, ‘Your gut says “no.” ’ ”

“I can’t give you more. I know these people, and I know they are arrogant and devious. I don’t believe Bertrand Chanboor cares at all about what the people want. He and his wife care only about themselves, from what I know of them. Something about this just isn’t right.”

Richard ran a finger down her temple. “Kahlan, I love you. I trust you. But this is these people’s lives. Bertrand Chanboor will not be the one deciding—that’s the whole point. If what we have to offer is right, then why shouldn’t the Anderith people be able to say yes to it themselves? Don’t you think they would then have more invested in the cause than if their leaders choose for them?

“Do you think it fair we demand their culture be so altered, and tell them it’s the right thing to do, and yet refuse to offer them the freedom to join willingly? Why can only the leader choose for all his people? What if the Minister wished to join with Jagang? Would you not then want the people to have the chance to overthrow the leader and choose freedom instead?”

She ran her fingers back into her hair, seeming unable to express her reservations and frustrations. “Richard, you’re making it sound . . . right, but I just . . . I don’t know, I just feel it’s a mistake. What if they cheat? What if they intimidate people—threaten them. How would we know? Who is to watch people say what they want? Who is to watch the fairness of the count?”

Richard ran a thumb along the silken sleeve of her white Mother Confessor’s dress. “Well then, what if we put conditions on it? Conditions to make sure we are in control, and not they.”

“Such as?”

“We have a thousand men here. We could use them to go to all the cities and towns in Anderith and watch the people vote. Everyone could put a mark on a piece of paper . . . say, either a circle to join us, or an X not to. Then our men could guard the papers and watch them counted. They would make sure it was fair.”

“And how would people really know what it means, either way?”

“We would have to tell them. Anderith isn’t that big. We could go to each place and explain to the people there why they must join us—why it’s so important to them and how they would suffer if the Imperial Order instead takes them. If truth really is on our side, it won’t be that difficult to make most people see it.”

She chewed her lip as she considered. “How long? The scouts report the Order will be within striking distance in less than six weeks.”

“Then we say four. Four weeks and the people vote. That would give us more than enough time to go around and talk to people, tell them how important this is. Then, after they vote to join us, we would have plenty of time to bring our army down and use the Dominie Dirtch to stop Jagang.”

Kahlan pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t like it, Richard.”

He shrugged. “All right, then. General Reibisch’s army is on the way. They’ll be here before Jagang can reach Anderith. We told him to stay north, out of sight, but we could take our men, capture the Dominie Dirtch, and overthrow the government here.

“From what I’ve seen of their army, it wouldn’t take long.”

“I know,” Kahlan said, frowning in thought. “I don’t understand it. I’ve been here before. Their army was a formidable force. The people we’ve seen look little more than children.”

Richard gazed out the window. With all the lights coming from so many windows, the grounds were well enough lit to see how beautiful they were. It looked a peaceful place to live.

“Poorly trained children,” he said. “I can’t understand it, either. Except, as the soldier at the border, Beata, said: It only takes one person to ring the Dominie Dirtch.

“Maybe they have no need to expend their assets to support a big army when all they need do is have a few soldiers at the border, manning the Dominie Dirtch. After all, you would know as well as anyone the vast resources required to maintain a sizable force. Every day they must be fed. That’s why Jagang is headed this way. Maybe Anderith just doesn’t need to deplete their resources.”

Kahlan nodded. “Maybe. I know the Minister of Culture has a long tradition of private backers—moneylenders, merchants, and such—to help champion their goals. Supporting an army is hugely expensive, even for a wealthy land. But I think there’s more to it for an army to deteriorate in such a fashion.”

“So, what do you think? Vote, or conquest?”

She looked into his eyes. “I still say no vote.”

“You know people will be hurt. Killed. It isn’t going to be bloodless. We may have to kill their soldiers—like Sergeant Beata, back at the Dominie Dirtch. They may be little more than children, but they will resist us taking them, and they will probably be killed.

“We can’t let them keep control of the Dominie Dirtch. We have to seize those weapons, if we are to let our army in. We can’t risk our men being slaughtered by those things.”

“But the magic is failing.”

“They rang just over a week ago. People out in front of them were killed. They still work. We can’t count on them failing.

“It’s either attack, or let them do as the Minister suggested: let the people decide their own fate. But even if something goes wrong, we could possibly still use the option of our troops. With what’s at stake, I wouldn’t hesitate to resort to attacking them if need be. Too many other lives are at risk.”

“That’s true. We always have that to fall back on.”

“But there’s one more thing we must consider. Perhaps the most important element.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“The chimes. That’s why we’re here, remember? This business with letting the people decide may work to our advantage with the chimes.”

She didn’t look at all convinced. “How?”

“We need to search the library. If we can find what we need to know to stop the chimes—like what Joseph Ander once did—then we can do it before it’s too late for magic. You haven’t forgotten, have you, about the gambit moth, and all the rest?”

“No, of course not.”

“And your Confessor’s power, and Du Chaillu’s magic, and the bond and all the rest. Jagang can easily win without magic; the danger from the Order would only grow stronger. We are just two people, like any others, without magic to protect us—to help us. There is no place so dangerous as a world without magic.

“While we stall for four weeks, we may be able to find the information we need about the chimes. And with traveling around to talk to people about voting to join us, that would be the perfect cover to keep anyone from being suspicious as to what we’re doing. I think it risky to let these people know magic has failed. Best to keep them on edge.”

Richard leaned close. “Kahlan, the chimes may be the most important part in this. This would buy us time to search. I think we should agree to let the people of Anderith vote.”

“I still say no, but if you want to try it”—she pressed finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose—“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this—then I will trust your judgment, Richard. You are, after all, the Lord Rahl.”

“But I depend on you for advice.”

“You are also the Seeker.”

He smiled. “But I don’t have my sword.”

Kahlan smiled back. “You’ve gotten us this far. If you say we should try this, then I’ll go along, but I don’t like it. Still, you are right about the chimes. That’s our first responsibility. This will help us search for the solution to the chimes.”

Richard was relieved that she had finally agreed, but worried about her reasons for being reluctant. With her hand on his arm, they returned to the head table. The Minister, his wife, and Dalton Campbell rose.

“There are conditions,” Richard said.

“Such as?” the Minister asked.

“Our men will watch everything, to insure no one cheats. Everyone will have to vote at the same time, so people can’t go to more than one place and vote more than once. They will gather in cities and towns, and each will mark a piece of paper, either with a circle to join into one whole with us, or an X to leave their fate to the cruel fangs of fate. Our men will watch the counting and reporting so that we know everything has been fair.”

The Minister smiled. “Excellent suggestions. I concur with every one of them.”

Richard leaned toward the man. “One more thing.”

“That being?”

“All the people will vote. Not just Anders, but the Hakens, too. They are part of the land, just as are the Anders. Their fate will be altered by this, too. If there is to be a vote, all people of Anderith will vote.”

Lady Chanboor and Dalton Campbell shared a look. The Minister spread his hands, his smile growing.

“But of course. All people will vote. It is settled, then.”