Soul of the Fire

Chapter 65

Dalton glanced up to see Hildemara gliding into his new office. She was wearing a revealing dress of a gold-colored satin with white trim, as if anyone would be interested in what she had to reveal.

He rose behind his new, expansive desk, the like of which he had never imagined would be his.

“Hildemara. What a pleasure to have you stop in for a visit.”

She smiled as she peered at him like a hound eyeing a meal. She ambled around his desk to stand close beside him, leaning her bottom against the desk’s edge so she could face him intimately.

“Dalton, you look marvelous in that outfit. New? Must be,” she said, running a finger down the embroidered sleeve. “You look good in this office, too. Better than my worthless husband ever looked. You bring it some . . . class.”

“Thank you, Hildemara. I must say, you look ravishing yourself.”

Her smile widened—with true pleasure or in mockery, he wasn’t sure. She had not been shy about expressing her admiration for him since the old Sovereign unexpectedly passed on. On the other hand, he knew her well enough not to be lulled into turning his back on her, in a manner of speaking. He wasn’t able to decide if she was being warm and friendly, or if she hid an executioner’s axe behind her back. Either way, he was on guard.

“The vote is counted from the city, and beginning to come in from the returning soldiers.”

Now he thought he knew the reason for her smile, and the results of the people’s say. Still, one could never be certain of such things.

“And how are the good people of Anderith responding to Lord Rahl’s invitation to join with him?”

“I’m afraid Lord Rahl is no match for you, Dalton.”

A tentative smile began to work its way up onto his face. “Really? How convincing is it? If it isn’t a resounding rejection, Lord Rahl may feel he has cause to press his case.”

She shrugged in a teasing manner. “The people of the city, of course, are reluctant to believe Lord Rahl. Seven of ten gave him an X.”

Dalton tipped his head up, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Hildemara,” he said with a grin. “And the rest?”

“Just starting to come in. It will take the soldiers a time to ride back—”

“But so far. How goes it so far?”

She dragged a finger around on the desktop. “Surprising.”

That confused him. “Surprising. How so?”

She turned a beaming smile up at him. “The worst for us is only three in four votes our way. Some places have had as many as eight and nine in ten giving Lord Rahl an X.”

Dalton put a hand to his chest as he let out another sigh of relief. “I thought as much, but one can never know for sure in such things.”

“Simply amazing, Dalton. You are a wonder.” She turned her palms up. “And you didn’t even have to cheat. Imagine that.”

Dalton made two fists of excitement. “Thank you, Hildemara. Thank you for bringing me the news. If you’ll excuse me, I must go straightaway and tell Teresa. I’ve been so busy, I’ve hardly, seen her for weeks. She’ll be so glad to hear the news.”

He started to move, but Hildemara put a restraining finger to his chest. Her smile had that deadly edge to it again.

“Teresa already knows, I’m sure.”

Dalton frowned. “Who would have told her before I was told?”

“Bertrand told her, I’m sure.”

“Bertrand? What would he be doing telling Teresa news like this?”

Hildemara made a little simper. “Oh, you know how Bertrand talks when he’s between the legs of a woman he finds thrilling.”

Dalton froze. Alarm bells chimed in his head as he began recalling all the times he had been absent from Teresa since Bertrand had been named Sovereign, recalling how taken Teresa was with the figure of Sovereign. He recalled how she had spent the night up in prayer after meeting the old Sovereign. He recalled her awe at Bertrand becoming Sovereign. He made himself stop speculating in such a fashion. Such speculation was an insidious enemy that could eat you away from inside. Hildemara, knowing how busy he had been, was probably just hoping to give him a fright, or cause trouble. That would be like her.

“That isn’t the least bit amusing, Hildemara.”

Propping one hand on the desk, she leaned toward him and ran a finger of the other hand down his jaw. “Not meant to be.”

Dalton stood silent, carefully trying to keep from making the wrong move before he knew what was really going on. This could still be a foolish trick of hers, just to make him angry at Tess, thinking it would somehow drive him into her own arms, or it could be nothing more than news she misunderstood. He knew, though, that Hildemara was not likely to get news like this wrong. She had her own sources and they were as reliable as Dalton’s.

“Hildemara, I don’t think you should be repeating slanderous rumors.”

“Not a rumor, my dear Dalton. A fact. I’ve seen your good wife coming from his room.”

“You know Teresa, she likes to pray—”

“I’ve overheard Bertrand brag to Stein about having her.”

Dalton nearly staggered back. “What?”

The smirk spread in deadly perfection. “Apparently, from what Bertrand tells Stein, she is quite the unrestrained courtesan, and enjoys being a very bad little girl in his bed.”

Dalton felt the blood go to his face in a hot rush. He considered killing Hildemara where she stood. As his finger touched the hilt of his sword, he considered it very seriously. Finally, instead, he kept himself under control, although he could feel his knees trembling.

“I just thought you should know, Dalton,” she added. “I found it quite sad: my husband is humping your wife and you don’t know anything about it. It could be . . . awkward. You could inadvertently embarrass yourself, not knowing.”

“Why, Hildemara?” he managed to ask in a whisper. “Why would you get so much satisfaction from this?”

At last her smile bloomed into true pleasure. “Because I always hated your smug superiority about your vows of fidelity—the way you looked down your nose, believing yourself and your wife better than all the rest of us.”

By sheer force of will, Dalton restrained himself. In times of trial or exigency, he was always able to become analytical in order to apply the best solution to the situation that confronted him.

With ruthless resolve, he did that now.

“Thank you for the information, Hildemara. It could indeed have been embarrassing.”

“Do me a favor and don’t go all gloomy about it, Dalton. You have reason to be enormously pleased. This is the Sovereign we’re talking about. It is, after all, an honor for any man to provide his wife for as revered and sublime a figure as the Sovereign of Anderith. You will be loved and respected all the more because your wife is giving the Sovereign release from the stresses of his high calling.

“You should know that, Dalton. After all, you made the man who he is: the Creator’s advisor in this world. Your wife is simply being a loyal subject.” She chuckled. “Very loyal, from what I’ve overheard. My, but it would take quite the woman to match her.”

She leaned close and kissed his ear, “But I’d like to try, Dalton, dear.” She looked him in the eye as she straightened. “I’ve always been fascinated by you. You are the most devious, dangerous man I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some real pieces of work.”

She turned back from the doorway. “After you come to accept it, you will find it of no importance, Dalton. You’ll see.

“And then, as you suggested to me before, once your vow was broken, I will be the first you come to? Don’t forget, you promised.”

Dalton stood alone in his office, his mind racing, thinking on what he should do.

Kahlan laid her arms on his shoulders and leaned over, putting her cheek against his ear. It felt warm and comforting, despite the unneeded distraction. She kissed his temple.

“How is it going?”

Richard stretched with a yawn. Where did one begin?

“This man was bent seriously out of straight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I still have a lot to translate, but I’m beginning to get a picture of what happened.” Richard rubbed his eyes. “The man is sent here to banish the chimes. He at once scrutinizes the problem, and sees a simple solution. The wizards at the Keep thought it was inspired genius, and told him so.”

“He must have been proud,” she said, clearly meaning the opposite.

He understood her sardonic tone, and shared the sentiment. “You’re right, not Joseph Ander. He doesn’t say it here, but from what we’ve read before, I know the way he thinks. Joseph Ander would have felt not pride in himself for understanding it, but contempt for those who had failed to.”

“So,” she said, “he had the solution. Then what?”

“They told him to see to it at once. Apparently they were having problems similar to ours with the chimes, and wanted the threat ended immediately. He complained that if they had the good sense to send him to see to it, then they should stop telling him what to do.”

“Not a good way to treat his superiors at the Keep.”

“They implored him to stop the chimes because of the people dying. Apparently, they knew him well enough to realize they had better not threaten the man, at least not with the rest of the war to worry about. So, they told him to use his best judgment, but to please hurry with a solution so people would be safe from the threat.

“He was much more pleased to get such a message, but used it as a club to start lecturing the wizards at the Keep.”

“About what?”

Richard ran his fingers back into his hair. It was frustrating to try to put into words what Joseph Ander was about.

“There’s a lot left in here to translate. It’s slow going. But I don’t think this book is going to tell us how to banish the chimes. Joseph Ander just doesn’t think that way—to write it down.”

Kahlan straightened and turned around with her back to the table so she could stand facing him.

She folded her arms. “All right, Richard. I know you better than that. What aren’t you telling me?”

Richard stood and turned his back to her as he pressed his fingers to his temple.

“Richard, don’t you trust me?”

He turned to her. He took up her hand. “No, no, it isn’t that. It’s just . . . just that some of the things he says, I don’t know where truth leaves off and Joseph Ander’s madness begins. This goes beyond anything I’ve ever heard about, been taught, or believed about magic.”

Now she did look concerned. He guessed, in one way, he was raising her fears wrongly. On the other hand, he couldn’t begin to raise them to the levels of his own fears.

“Joseph Ander,” he began, “thought he was just better than the other wizards.”

“We already knew that.”

“Yes, but he may have been right.”

“What?”

“Sometimes, in madness resides genius. Kahlan, I don’t know where to draw the line. In one way not knowing about magic is a liability, but in another it means I’m not burdened by preconceived notions, the way the wizards at the Keep were, so I might recognize the truth in his words where they did not.

“You see, Joseph Ander viewed magic not so much as a set of requirements—you know, a pinch of this, this word three, times while turning round on your left foot, and all that kind of thing.

“He saw magic as an art form—a means of expression.”

Kahlan was frowning. “I don’t follow. Either you cast a spell properly to invoke it, or it doesn’t work. Like I call my power with a touch. Like the way we called the chimes by fulfilling specific requirements of the magic, thereby releasing it.”

He knew that with her magical ability, her background, and her learning about magic, she would have the same problem the other wizards did. Richard felt just a trace of the frustration Joseph Ander must have felt. In that, too, he understood the man that much better—understood a tiny bit of the frustration of having people tell you the hard facts of something when you knew better, yet couldn’t get them to see the abstract concept of the greater whole right before them.

As did Joseph Ander, Richard thought to try again.

“Yes, I know, and I’m not saying that doesn’t work, but he believed there was more. That magic could be taken to a higher level—to a plane beyond that which most people with the gift used.”

Now she really was frowning. “Richard, that’s madness.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He picked up the journey book.

“This is in answer to something unrelated they asked—but you have to hear this to understand the way Joseph Ander thinks.”

He read to her the crux of the translation.

“ ‘A wizard who cannot truly destroy cannot truly create.’ ” Richard tapped the book. “He was talking about a wizard like the gifted now, a wizard with only the Additive—like Zedd. Ander didn’t even consider a man to have the gift, if he didn’t have both sides. He thought of such a man as simply an aberration, and hopelessly disadvantaged.”

Richard went back to the journey book and read on.

“ ‘A wizard must know himself or he risks working ill magic that harms his own free will.’ That’s him talking about the creative aspects of magic beyond the structure of it. ‘Magic intensifies and concentrates passions, strengthening not only such things as joy, but ruinous passions, too, and in this way they may become obsessions, and unbearable unless released.’ ”

“Sounds like he’s trying to justify being destructive,” she said.

“I don’t think so. I think he’s on to something important, a higher balance, as it were.”

Kahlan shook her head, clearly not catching what he saw, but he could think of no way to get it across to her, so he read on.

“This is important. ‘Imagination is what makes a great wizard, for with it, he is able to transcend the limitations of tradition and go beyond the structure of what now exists into the higher realm of creating the very fabric of magic.’ ”

“That’s what you were talking about? About him thinking of it as an . . . an art form? A means of expression? Like he’s the Creator Himself—weaving a cloth of magic out of nothing?”

“Exactly. But listen to this. This, I believe, may be the most important thing Joseph Ander has to say. When the chimes ceased being a problem, the other wizards cautiously asked what he did. You can almost read the anxiety in their words. This is his terse reply to their question of what he had done to the chimes.

“ ‘A Grace might rise in obedience to an inventive spell.’ ”

Kahlan rubbed her arms, clearly disturbed by the answer. “Dear spirits, what does that mean?”

Richard leaned close to her, “I think it means he dreamed up something—a new magic, outside the parameters of the original conjuring that brought the chimes into this world. Magic to suit the situation, and himself.

“In other words, Joseph Ander got creative.”

Kahlan’s green eyes cast about. He knew she was considering the depths of aberration with which they were dealing. This was the madman who had finally inflicted the chimes on them.

“The world is coming apart,” she whispered to herself, “and you’re talking about Joseph Ander using magic as an art form?”

“I’m just telling you what the man said.” Richard turned to the last page. “I skipped, ahead. I wanted to see the last thing he wrote the wizards.”

Richard studied the High D’Haran words again to be certain of the translation, and then read Joseph Ander’s words.

“ ‘In the end, I have concluded I must reject the Creator and the Keeper both. I instead create my own solution, my own rebirth and death, and in so doing will always protect my people. And so farewell, for I shall lay my soul on troubled waters, and thus watch over for all time that which I have so carefully wrought, and which is now safeguarded and inviolate.’ ”

Richard looked up. “See? Do you understand?” He saw she didn’t. “Kahlan, I don’t think he banished the chimes as he was supposed to. I think he instead used them for his own purposes.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Used them? What can you use the chimes for?”

“The Dominie Dirtch.”

“What!” She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. “But then how was it possible for us to follow such a well-defined, prescribed, strict outline and inadvertently call them forth? That sort of structure is exactly what you are telling me Joseph Ander thought he was beyond.”

Richard had been waiting for that exact argument. “That’s the balance. Don’t you see? Magic must be balanced. In order to do something creative, he had to balance it with something not creative, a very strict formula. That it is so strict in its requirements to free the chimes is in itself proof of the creativity of what he did.”

He knew her well enough to tell she didn’t agree, but wasn’t in the mood to argue. She said simply, “So how do we then banish the chimes?”

Richard shook his head with defeat in that much of it.

“I don’t know. I fear there is no answer to that question. The wizards of Joseph Ander’s time were equally frustrated by the man. In the end, they simply considered this place lost to them. I’m beginning to believe Joseph Ander created an unbreakable magic inside a puzzle without a solution.”

Kahlan took the book from his hands, closed it, and placed it back on the little table.

“Richard, I think you’re getting a little crazy yourself, reading the rantings of a lunatic. That’s not the way magic works.”

That’s what the wizards at the Keep had told Ander—that he couldn’t convert and control an element that was innately uncontrollable. Richard didn’t tell Kahlan that, though. She wasn’t prepared to think of magic in these terms.

Neither were the other wizards.

Joseph Ander had not been at all pleased to have his ideas so summarily dismissed, thus his final farewell.

Kahlan put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying your best. I’m just getting nervous. The vote should be coming back soon.”

Richard put his hands on her waist. “Kahlan, people will see the truth. They have to.”

She gazed off. “Richard,” she whispered, “make love to me?”

“What?”

She looked up into his eyes. “It’s been so long. Make love to me.”

“Here? Now?”

“We can tie the tent shut. No one comes in without asking permission anyway.” She smiled. “I promise to be quiet, and not to embarrass you.” With a finger, she lifted his chin. “I promise I won’t even tell your other wife.”

That brought a brief smile, but Richard wasn’t able to keep hold of it.

“Kahlan, we can’t.”

“Well, I think I could. I bet I could change your mind, too.”

Richard lifted the small dark stone on her necklace. “Kahlan, magic has failed. This won’t work.”

“I know. That’s why I want to.” She clutched at his shirt. “Richard, I don’t care. What if we make a baby? So what?”

“You know ‘so what.’ ”

“Richard, would it be so bad? Really?” Her green eyes were filling with tears. “Would it be so bad if we made a child together?”

“No, no, of course not. It isn’t that. You know I want to. But we can’t right now. We can’t afford to see Shota in every shadow, waiting to do as she promised. We can’t afford the distraction from our duty.”

“Our duty. What about us. What about what we want?”

Richard turned away. “Kahlan, do you really want to bring a child into this world? Do you want to bring a child into the madness of this world? The madness of the chimes and a horrific war looming before us?”

“What if I said yes?”

He turned back to her and smiled. He could see he was only upsetting her. Du Chaillu being pregnant was probably making Kahlan think of having her own child.

“Kahlan, I want to, if you do. All right? Whenever you want, we will, and I’ll deal with Shota. But in the meantime could we wait until we see if there is even going to be a world of life—or even a world with freedom—into which we can bring our child?”

She finally smiled. “Of course. You’re right, Richard. I guess I was just getting . . . carried away. We have the chimes to deal with, and the Imperial Order . . .”

Richard took her in his arms to comfort her, when Captain Meiffert called from outside the tent. “See?” he whispered to her. She smiled.

“Yes, Captain, come on in.”

The man stepped inside reluctantly. He wouldn’t meet Richard’s gaze.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Ah, Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor . . . the vote in Fairfield is counted. Some of our men have returned with numbers. But not all of them,” he was quick to add. “There are more yet to come back. It will take a few days yet before they all travel back.”

“So, Captain, what are the results?”

The man handed over a slip of paper. Richard read it, but it took a moment for it to sink in.

“Seven in ten against us,” he whispered.

Kahlan gently lifted the paper from his fingers and looked at it. Without a word, she set it on the table.

“All right,” he said, “we know they were telling all those lies in the city. We just have to realize it will be different out around the land.”

“Richard,” Kahlan whispered, “they will spread the same lies around the land.”

“But we talked to those people. We spent time with them.” Richard turned to Captain Meiffert. “What about the outlying places?

“Well—”

“What about, about, that place—” Richard snapped his fingers. “Westbrook. Where we spent time looking at Joseph Ander’s things. What about Westbrook? Is the vote back from there?”

The man had backed away a step. “Yes, Lord Rahl.”

“And what is it, then?”

Kahlan put a hand on his arm. “Richard,” she whispered, “the captain is on our side.”

Richard pressed his fingers to his temples as he took a breath. “What is the vote from Westbrook, Captain?”

The man, having lost much of his color, cleared his throat.

“Nine of ten marked an X against us, Lord Rahl.”

Richard stood stunned. He had talked to those people. He remembered some of their names, their beautiful children.

Richard felt as if the ground had disappeared from beneath his feet, and he was falling through insanity. He had been up day and night, trying to help these people have their own way over their lives, have freedom, and they rejected it.

“Richard,” Kahlan said in soft sympathy, “it was nothing you did. They told those people lies. They frightened the people.”

Richard lifted a hand in a vague manner. “But . . . I talked to them, explained to them that this was for them, for their future, for the freedom of their children. . . .”

“I know, Richard.”

Captain Meiffert stood awkwardly. Kahlan signaled with a hand, dismissing him. He bowed and quietly backed out of the tent.

“I’m going for a walk,” Richard whispered. “I need to be by myself.” He waved toward the blankets. “Just go on to bed without me.”

Richard walked alone into the darkness.