“As you wish. I am sorry, Queen Cyrilla, but it cannot wait.” She returned her attention to Drefan. “I have just taken the confession of a murderer. In his confession, he also revealed himself to be an accomplice to an assassin. He named you as that assassin, and your target as Queen Cyrilla.”were astonished whispers from those near enough to overhear. Drefan’s face went red. The whispers died into brittle silence.could scarcely follow what happened next. A blink of the eye and it would have been missed. One instant Drefan stood as he had, with his hand in his gold and deep blue coat, and the next he was driving a knife toward the Mother Confessor. Standing tall, she moved only her arm, catching his wrist. Seemingly at the same time, there was a violent impact to the air—thunder but no sound. The cut-glass bowl shattered, flooding red wine over the table and floor. Cyrilla flinched with the sudden flash of pain coursing through every joint in her body. The knife clattered to the floor. Drefan’s eyes went wide, his jaw slack.
“Mistress,” he whispered reverently.was numb with shock to see a Conffessor use her power. She knew only of its aftereffects, arid had never seen it being used. Few had. The magic seemed still to sizzle in the air a long moment.crowd pressed closer. A warning glare from the wizard changed their curiosity to timidity, and they moved back.looked drained, but her voice betrayed no weakness. “You intended to assassinate the queen?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said eagerly, licking his lips.
“When?”. In the confusion when the guests were departing.” Drefan looked to be in torment. Tears welled up and ran down his cheeks. “Please, Mistress, command me. Tell me what you wish. Let me carry out your command.”was still in shock. This was what had been done to her father. This was how he had been taken as a mate to a Confessor. First her father, and now a man she held dear.
“Wait in silence,” Kahlan ordered. Hands hanging at her sides, she turned to Cyrilla, her young eyes now heavy with sorrow. “Forgive me for disturbing your celebration, Queen Cyrilla, but I feared the results of delay.”face burning, Cyrilla twisted to face Drefan. He stood gaping at Kahlan. “Who ordered this, Drefan! Who ordered you kill me!”didn’t even seem to be aware she had spoken.
“He will not answer you, Queen Cyrilla,” Kahlan said. “He will only answer me.”
“Then you ask!”would not be advisable,” the wizard offered quietly.felt a fool. Everyone knew of her fondness for Drefan. Everyone saw now that she had been duped. No one would ever forget this midsummer festival.
“Do not presume to advise me!”leaned closer and spoke softly. “Cyrilla, we think he may be protected by a spell. When I asked his accomplice that question, he died before he could answer. But I believe I know the answer. There are oblique ways of getting the information that might possibly circumvent the spell. If I could take him somewhere alone and question him in my own way, we might be able to get the answer.”was near tears with fury. “I trusted him! He was close to me! He has betrayed me! Me, not you! I will know who sent him! I will hear it from his own lips! You stand in my kingdom, in my home! Ask him!”straightened, her face returning to the calm mask that showed nothing. “As you wish.” She redirected her attention to Drefan. “Was what you intended to do to the queen of your own volition?”dry-washed his hands in anxious anticipation of pleasing the Mother Confessor. “No, Mistress. I was sent.”it was possible, Kahlan’s face seemed to become even more placid. “Who sent you?”hand rose, and his mouth opened, as if in an attempt to do her bidding. All that came from his throat was a gurgle of blood before he collapsed.wizard gave a knowing grunt. “As I thought: the same as the other.”picked up the knife and offered it handle-first to Cyrilla. “We believe there to be a conspiracy of great magnitude brewing. Whether or not this man was part of it I don’t know, but he was sent by Kelton.”
“Kelton! I refuse to believe that.”nodded at the knife in Cyrilla’s hand. “The knife is Keltish.”
“Many people carry weapons forged in Kelton. They are some of the finest made. That is hardly proof enough for such an accusation.”stood unmoving. Cyrilla was too upset at that moment to wonder what thoughts could have been going on behind those green eyes. Kahlan’s voice finally came without emotion. “My father taught me that the Keltans will strike for only two reasons. First out of jealousy, and second when they are tempted by weakness. He said that either way, they will always first test by trying to kill the strongest, highest-ranking, of their opponents they can. Galea is now the strongest it has ever been, thanks to you, and the midsummer festival is the mark of that strength. You are the cause of that jealousy, and a symbol of that strength.
“My father also said that you must always keep an eye to the Keltans, and never offer them your back. He said that if you thwart them in the first attempt, it deepens their hunger for your blood, and they will always lie in wait for any weakness so they may strike.”’s smoldering rage at being beguiled by Drefan made her lash out without considering her words. “I would not know what our father said. I never had the benefit of his teachings. He was taken from us by a Confessor.”’s face transformed from the calm, cold blankness of a Confessor to a look of ageless, knowing benevolence that seemed well beyond her years.
“Perhaps, Queen Cyrilla, the good spirits chose to spare you the things he would have taught you, and had him teach me instead. Be thankful they have looked kindly upon you. I doubt the things he taught would have brought you any joy. They bring me none, save perhaps that they have helped me preserve your life this night. Please do not be bitter. Be at peace with yourself, and cherish what you do have: the love of your people. They are your family, one and all.”started to turn away, but Cyrilla gently caught her arm and drew her aside as men bent to carry the body from the hall.
“Kahlan, forgive me.” Her fingers worked a ribbon at her waist. “I have wrongly directed my anger over Drefan to you.”
“I understand, Cyrilla. In your place, I would probably have reacted the same. I could see your feelings for Drefan in your eyes. I would not expect you to be happy over what I have just done. Forgive me for bringing anguish to your home on a day that should be only joyful, but I greatly feared the results of delay.”had made her feel like the younger sister. She looked anew at the tall, beautiful young woman standing before her. Kahlan was of the age to have a mate. Perhaps she had already chosen one, for all she knew. Her mother must have been about this old when she took Cyrilla’s father as hers. So young.into those depthless green eyes, Cyrilla let go of some of her anger over Drefan. This young woman, her sister, had just saved her life, knowing full well it would bring no thanks, and would probably earn her only deeper fear, and possibly undying hatred, from her half sister. So young. Cyrilla felt shame at her own selfishness.smiled at Kahlan for the first time. “surely, the things Wyborn taught you weren’t all grim?”
“He taught me only killing. Whom to kill, when to kill, and how to kill. Be thankful you know no more of his lessons, and that you have never needed what he taught. I have, and I fear I have only begun to use what he taught me.”frowned. Kahlan was a Confessor, not a killer. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“We believe we have uncovered a conspiracy. I will not speak of it until I know its nature, and have proof, but I think it may bring a storm beyond any you or I have ever seen before.”touched her sister’s cheek, the only time in her life she had ever done so. “Kahlan, please stay? Enjoy at my side what is left of the festival? I would love to have you with me.”’s face returned to the calm mask of a Confessor. “I cannot. It would only ruin your people’s light heart to have me present. Thank you for the offer, but you should be able to enjoy your day with your people, without my spoiling it further.”
“Nonsense. It would spoil nothing.”
“I would like nothing more than that it were so, but it is not. Remember what our father said: keep a wary eye to the Keltans. I must be gone. There is trouble gathering and I must see that the Confessors find its cause. Before I return to Aydindril I will pay a visit to Kelton and deliver my suspicions, and a warning that what has happened not be repeated. I will inform the council of the trouble of this day, so that all eyes will be on the Keltans.”did they teach in Aydindril that could turn what looked to be porcelain to iron?you, Mother Confessor” was all she had been able to say, to offer her sister the honor of her office, as she watched her stride off, her wizard in tow. That had been the most intimate conversation she had ever had with her half sister. The midsummer festival had not held much joy for her after Kahlan had left. So young, yet so old.the council today, Cyrilla had been surprised to find that the Mother Confessor was not presiding over the council. No one knew where she was. It was to be expected she would have been absent when Aydindril fell; she was frequently gone in her capacity as a Confessor, and had probably been doing what she could to halt the threat from D’Hara. All the Confessors had fiercely fought the hordes from D’Hara. She was sure Kahlan would have done no less, using in part what her father had taught her.that she had not immediately returned to Aydindril when D’Hara withdrew was worrisome. Perhaps she had not yet had time to return. Cyrilla feared Kahlan might have been killed at the hands of a quad. D’Hara had sentenced all the Confessors to death, and hunted them relentlessly. Galea had offered refuge to the Confessors, but the quads, implacable, and without mercy, had found them anyway., absent the Mother Confessor, there had not been a wizard overseeing the council meeting. Cyrilla’s flesh had prickled with apprehension at seeing no wizard. She recognized that the absence of a Confessor and a wizard created a dangerous vacuum in the council chambers.when she saw who presided over the council session, her apprehension sharpened to alarm. Sitting in the first chair was High Prince Fyren, of Kelton. The very man she had come to seek deliverance from sat in judgment. To see him sitting in the chair that had always belonged only to the Mother Confessor was startling.council, it would seem, had not been put back to the way it should have been., she ignored him and instead pressed her demands to the rest of the council. In turn, Prince Fyren stood and accused her of treason against the Midlands. He had the unmitigated gall to accuse her of the very thing of which he was guilty., Prince Fyren assured the council that Kelton was committing no aggression but was acting only in self-defense against a greedy neighbor. In a tirade, he lectured them on the evils of women in positions of power. The council took his word for everything. They allowed her to present no evidence.stood stunned and speechless as the council heard Fyren’s charges, and without pause found her guilty, sentencing her to be beheaded.was Kahlan? Where were the wizards?Bevinvier’s vision had proven true. Cyrilla should have listened, or at least taken some precaution. Kahlan’s warning, too, had proven true; Kelton had first tried to strike out of jealousy, and now, years later, they had renewed the attack when they saw tempting weakness.Galean guard stood in the great courtyard, ready to immediately escort Cyrilla home. She had needed to set about readying Galea’s defenses until the forces expected to be sent by the council could arrive. But it was not to be.the pronouncement of sentence, she heard the terrible shouts of battle outside. Battle, she thought bitterly. It was not a battle, but a slaughter. Her troops had waited in the great courtyard without their weapons, as a sign of respect and deference, an open gesture of acquiescence to the rule of the Council of the Midlands.Cyrilla stood at the window, a guard at each arm, shaking in horror as she watched the slaughter. A few of her men managed to take up weapons by overpowering their attackers, and put up a valiant struggle, but they had no chance. They were outnumbered five to one, and were, by and large, without means to defend themselves. She couldn’t tell if in the chaos any escaped. She hoped they had. She prayed Harold had.white snow that lay upon the ground was turned to a sea of red. She was aghast at the butchery. There was mercy only in its swiftness.had been made to kneel before the council as Prince Fyren took up her long hair in his fist, and with his own sword sliced it away. She had knelt in silence, her head held proudly up in honor of her people, in honor of the men she had just seen murdered, while he cut her hair as short as the lowest kitchen scullion.an hour before had seemed to be the near end of her people’s ordeal had become instead the mere beginning.powerful fingers on her arms jerked her to a halt before a small iron door. She winced in pain. A crude ladder twice her height lay on its side against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.the guard with the keys came forward to work the lock. He cursed the mechanism, complaining that its lack of use made it stiff. All the guards seemed to be Keltans. She had seen none of the Aydindril Home Guard. Most, she knew, had been killed in Aydindril’s fall to D’Hara.last the man drew back the door to reveal a dark pit. Her legs felt as if they wanted to turn liquid. Only the hands gripping her arms held her up. They were going to put her in that dark pit. With the rats.willed her legs solid again. She was the queen. But her pulse would not slow.
“How dare you put a lady in a rat-infested hole!”Fyren stepped close to the black maw. One hand on a hip held back his unbuttoned, royal blue coat. With his other hand he hefted a torch from a bracket.
“Rats? Is that what worries you, my lady? Rats?” He gave her a derisive smile. He was too young to be so well schooled at insolence. Had her arms been free she would have slapped him. “Let me allay your fears, Queen Cyrilla.”tossed the torch into the blackness. As it dropped, it illuminated faces. A husky fist caught the torch. There were men in the pit. At least six, maybe ten.Fyren leaned into the doorway, his voice echoing into the hole. “The queen worries there may be rats down there.”
“Rats?” came a coarse voice from the pit. “There be no rats down here. Not anymore. We et them all.”hand with white ruffles at the wrist still rested on Prince Fyren’s hip. His voice taunted with feigned concern. “There, you see? The man says there are no rats. Does that ease your apprehension, my lady?”eyes darted between the flickering torchlight below and Fyren. “Who are those men?”
“Why, just a few murderers and rapists awaiting their beheading, same as you. Quite vile animals, actually. What with all I’ve had to attend to, I haven’t had time to see to their sentences. I’m afraid being down in the pit for so long puts them in an ugly disposition.” His grin returned, “But I’m sure having a queen among them will mellow their mood.”had to force her voice to come. “I demand my own cell.”grin vanished. An eyebrow lifted. “demand? You demand?” He suddenly struck her across the face. “You demand nothing! You are nothing but a common criminal, a loathsome murderer of my people! You have been tried and convicted!”cheek burned with the sting of his handprint.
“You can’t put me in there—with them.” Her whispered entreaty was hopeless, she knew, but she couldn’t keep it from her lips.rolled his shoulders, straightening his back and coat as he regained his composure. His voice rose to those below. “You men wouldn’t defile a lady, would you?”laughter echoed up from the pit. “Why, course not. We wouldn’t want to be beheaded twice.” The coarse voice deepened into cold menace. “We’ll treat her real nice like.”could taste warm, salty blood at the corner of her mouth. “Fyren, you can’t do this. I demand to be beheaded at once.”you go again: demanding.”
“Why can’t it be done now! Let it be done now!”drew his hand back to slap her again, but then let it lower as his simper returned. “You see? At first you proclaimed your innocence, and didn’t want to be executed, but already you are reconsidering. After a few days down there, with them, you will be begging to be beheaded. You will eagerly confess your treason before all those gathered to witness your punishment. Besides, I have other matters to attend to. I can’t be bothered right now. You will be put to death when I deem I have the time.”rising terror, she was only now beginning to grasp the full extent of the fate that awaited her in the pit. Tears burned her eyes.
“Please… don’t do this to me. I’m begging you.”Fyren smoothed the white ruffles at his throat and spoke softly. “I tried to make it easy for you, Cyrilla, because you’re a woman. Drefan’s knife would have been quick. You would have suffered little that way. I would never have allowed a man in your place such mercy. But you wouldn’t have it the easy way. You allowed the Mother Confessor to interfere. You allowed yet another woman to infringe on the dominion of men!
“Women don’t have the stomach for ruling. They’re ill suited to the task. They should never be allowed to command armies or to meddle in the affairs of nations. Things had to be set right. Drefan died trying to do it the easy way. Now we do it the other way.”nodded to a man behind him. The guard hauled the ladder to the doorway to lower an end into the pit as the hands on her arms moved her to the edge. The other men drew swords, apparently to prevent any in the pit from thinking to come up the ladder.could think of no way to stop this. She voiced a protest, knowing it was foolish, but unable to check her panic. “I am a queen, a lady, I will not be made to scurry down a rickety ladder.”Fyren blinked at her ludicrous objection, but then motioned with his hand for the man to pull the ladder back from the doorway.gave a mocking bow. “As you wish, my lady.”rose, giving a slight nod to the men holding her arms. They released her. Before she thought to move a muscle, he rammed the heel of his hand into her chest, between her breasts.painful blow knocked her off balance. She toppled backward through the opening. Down into the pit.she plummeted, she fully expected to strike the stone floor and be killed. She resigned to it with a last gasp as the futile flow of her past glory whirled before her mind’s eye. Had it all come to this? All for nought? To have her skull cracked like an egg fallen from a table to the floor?hands caught her. Hands were everywhere upon her, unexpectedly upon the most indecent places. Her eyes opened to see the light of the doorway go dark with a loud, reverberating clang.were all around her in the haunting, flickering torchlight. Scruffy, whiskered faces. Ugly, sweaty, wicked faces. Cunning black eyes played over her. Hungry, humorless grins showed crooked, sharp teeth. So many teeth. Her throat clenched shut, locking her breath in her lungs. Her mind refused to function, and flashed with confusing, useless images.was pressed to the floor. The stone was cold and painfully rough against her back. Grunts and low squeals assailed her from every side. Men were tight together above her. Against her struggles, her limbs were pushed and pulled as the men willed., clawlike hands ripped at her fine dress and pinched brutally at suddenly, shockingly, exposed flesh.then Cyrilla did something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.screamed.27for her thumb and forefinger idly turning the smooth, round bone on her necklace, Kahlan stood motionless as she studied the sprawling city. The surrounding rugged slopes seemed to tenderly cradle the buildings that filled nearly the length and breadth of the gently rolling valley. Steeply pitched slate roofs pricked the land within the ribbon of wall, with the higher peaks of the palace off to the northern end, but not so much as a wisp of smoke rose from the hundreds of stone chimneys into the clear air. She saw no movement. The arrow-straight south road leading to the main gate, the smaller, meandering roads that branched off to end at the lesser gates, and those which bypassed the outer walls altogether to lead north, were deserted.sloping mountain meadow before her lay buried beneath a white winter blanket. A light breeze liberated the burden of snow from a sagging branch of a nearby pine, freeing a sparkling cloud to curl away. The same breeze ruffled the white wolf fur of the thick mantle snugged against her cheek, but she hardly noticed.and Tossidin had made the mantle for her, to keep her warm on their way northeast through the bitter winter storms that raked the bleak land they had traveled. Wolves were fearful of people, and rarely let themselves be seen, so she knew little of their habits. The brothers” arrows had found their mark where she saw nothing. If she hadn’t seen Richard shoot, she would have thought the shots impossible. The brothers were almost as good as he.she had always held a vague enmity for wolves, she had never actually been harried by them. Since Richard had told her of their close family packs, she had come to feel an affection for them. She hadn’t wanted the two brothers to kill wolves to make the warm cape, but they insisted that it was necessary and, in the end, she had acquiesced.had sickened her to watch the carcasses being skinned, revealing the red muscle beneath, and white of bone and sinew, the substance of being, so elegant when filled with life and spirit, so suddenly morbid when left with neither.the brothers went about the grisly task, she could think only of Brophy, the man she had touched with her power, only to have it prove him innocent. He had been turned to a wolf by her wizard, Giller, to release him from the power of a Confessor’s magic, so he could start over in a new life. She had wondered at how saddened these wolves” families must have been when they never returned, as she knew Brophy’s mate and pack must have been when he was killed.had seen so much killing. She was weary nearly to tears of it, at the way it seemed to go on without an end in sight. At least the three men had felt no pride or joy at having killed the magnificent animals, and had said a prayer to the spirits of their brother wolves, as they had called them.
“We should not be doing this,” Chandalen grumbled.was leaning on his spear, watching her, she knew, but she didn’t take her eyes from the silent city below, the too-still scene. His tone was not as sharp as it usually was. It betrayed his awe at seeing a city the size of Ebinissia.had never before been far from the Mud People’s lands, had never seen this many buildings, especially none of such grand scale. When he had first taken in the size of it, his brown eyes had stared in silent wonder he could not conceal, and his acid tongue, for once, had forsaken him. Having lived his whole life in the village out on the plains, it must look to him as if he were seeing the result of magic, not mere human effort.felt a small pang of sorrow for him and the two brothers, that their simple view of the outside world had to be shattered. Well, they would see more, before this journey was ended, that would astonish them further.
“Chandalen, I have spent a great effort, nearly every waking moment, teaching you and Prindin and Tossidin to speak my language. No one where we go will speak yours. It is for your own good that I do this. You are free to believe that I am being spiteful, or that I am doing as I say: being mindful of your safety outside your land, but either way, you will speak to me in the tongue I have taught you.”tone tightened, but still could not disguise how humbled he was at seeing a great city for the first time. It was far from the greatest he would see. Perhaps, too, it betrayed something she had never before sensed from him: fear.
“I am to take you to Aydindril, not this place. We should not be using our time at this place.” His inflection implied he thought a place such as this could be only evil.against the blindingly bright sun on white snow, she saw the two figures, far below, starting up the slope. She let the round bone slip from her fingers. “I’m the Mother Confessor. It’s my duty to protect all the people of the Midlands, the same way I work to safeguard the Mud People.”
“You bring no help to my people, only trouble.”protest seemed more habit than a heartfelt challenge. She answered it in a quiet, tired murmur. “Enough, Chandalen.”, he didn’t press the argument, but turned his anger elsewhere. “Prindin and Tossidin should not come up the hill in the open like that. I have taught them not to be so stupid. If they were boys, I would strike their bottoms. Anyone can see where they go. Will you do as I say, and come out of the open now?”let him shepherd her back into the shroud of trees, not because she thought it necessary, but because she wanted to let him know she respected his efforts to protect her. Despite his animosity at being forced to go on this journey, he had done his duty, watching over her constantly, as had the two brothers, they with smiles and concern, he with a scowl and suspicion. All three made her feel like a precious, fragile cargo that must be tended at all times. The brothers, she knew, were sincere. Chandalen, she was sure, saw his mission only as a task that must be performed, no matter how onerous.
“We should go quickly from here,” he pressed, again.withdrew a hand from under the fur mantle and pulled a stray strand of her long hair back from her face. “It is my duty to know what has happened here.”
“You said your duty was to go to Aydindril, as Richard With The Temper asked.”turned away without answering, moving deeper into the snow-crusted trees. She missed Richard more than she could bear. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face as it had looked when he thought she had betrayed him. She wanted to drop to her knees and let out the scream that seemed to be always there, trapped just below the surface, trying to find a way past her restraint, a scream born of her horror at what she had done.what else could she have done? If what she had learned was true, and the veil to the underworld was torn and Richard was in fact the only one who could close it, and if the collar was the only thing that could save his life and give him the chance to close the veil, then she had had no choice. How could she have made any other decision? How could Richard ever respect her if she didn’t face her responsibilities to the greater good? The Richard she loved would eventually realize that. He had to.if any of it was not true, then she had delivered the man she loved into his worst nightmare, for nothing.wondered again if Richard often looked at the lock of her hair she had given him, and thought of her. She hoped that he could find it in himself to understand and forgive her. She wanted so much to tell him how much she loved him. She yearned to hold him to her. She wanted only to get to Aydindril, to Zedd, for help.she had to know what had happened here. She stiffened her back with resolve. She was the Mother Confessor.had intended to skirt Ebinissia, but for the last two days they had been coming across the frozen corpses of women. Never any men, only women, from young to old, children to grandmothers. Most were half naked, some without clothes at all. And in the dead of winter. While most had been alone, a few were together, huddled in frozen death, too exhausted, or too frightened, or too disoriented to have sought shelter. They had run from Ebinissia not in disorderly haste, but in panic, choosing to freeze to death rather than remain., too, had been badly abused before they had scattered in every direction into the mountainous countryside. Kahlan knew what had been done to them, what had made them make the choice they did. The three men knew, too, but none would voice it aloud.pulled her warm mantle tighter around herself. This atrocity couldn’t have been at the hands of the armies from D’Hara; it was far too recent. The troops from D’Hara had been called home. Surely, they wouldn’t have done this after they had been told the war was ended.to stand for another moment not knowing what fate had befallen Ebinissia, she pushed her bow farther up on her shoulder and started down the hillside. Her leg muscles were at long last used to the wide-footed gait needed to walk on the snowshoes the men had made from willow and sinew. Chandalen charged after her.
“You must not go down there. There could be dangerous.”
“Danger,” she corrected as she hitched her pack up higher. “If there was danger, Prindin and Tossidin would not be out in the open. You may come, or you may wait here, but I’m going down there.”argument was useless, he followed in a rare fit of silence. The bright afternoon sun brought no warmth to the bitterly cold day. There was usually wind at the fringe of the Rang’shada Mountains, but thankfully there was little this day, for a change. It hadn’t snowed for several days, and they had been able to make better time in the clear weather. Still, with every breath she took, the air felt as if it were turning the inside of her nose to ice.intercepted Prindin and Tossidin halfway down the slope. They brought themselves to a halt before her, leaning on their spears, breathing heavily, which was unusual for them as nothing seemed to tire them, but they were unaccustomed to the altitude. Their faces were pale, and their handsome twin smiles long gone.
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