She stared dumbly, sinking back into her chair. “A thousand?”
He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “Captain Bradley and his men. The ones you led and fought beside, before.”
Kahlan could feel her face heating. “We need all your troops. Harold, what’s going on?”
He at last met her gaze.
“Queen Cyrilla refused my plan to take our troops south. Shortly after you were there and visited her, she came out of her illness. She was herself again—full of ambition and fire. You know what she was like. She was always tireless in her advocacy for Galea.” His fingers idly tapped the table. “But I’m afraid she has been changed by her infirmity. She fears the Imperial Order.”
“So do I,” Kahlan said with quiet bottled rage. She could feel Richard’s sword pressed against the back of her shoulder. She saw Harold’s eyes take it in. “Everyone in the Midlands fears the Order. That is why we need those troops.”
He was nodding as she spoke. “I told her all that. I did. She said that she is Queen of Galea, and as such, she must put our land first.”
“Galea has joined the D’Haran Empire!”
He opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “When she was ill, she was…unaware of that event taking place. She said she only gave you the crown for the safekeeping of her people, not to surrender their sovereignty.” His hands dropped to his sides. “She claims you never had any such authority and refuses to abide by the agreement.”
Kahlan glanced at the others in the room, sitting mute, like a panel of grim judges.
“Harold, you and I have discussed all this in the past. The Midlands is under threat.” She swept her arm out. “The entire New World is threatened! We must turn back that threat, not take to defending one land at a time—or have each land try to fend for itself. If we do that, we will all fall, one at a time. We must stand together.”
“I agree with you, in principle, Mother Confessor. Queen Cyrilla does not.”
“Then Cyrilla is not recovered, Harold. She is still sick.”
“That may be, but it is not for me to say.”
Elbow on the table, Kahlan rested her forehead against her fingertips. Thoughts were screaming around inside her head, demanding that this not be happening.
“What about Jebra?” Zedd asked from the side of the room. Kahlan was relieved to hear his voice, as if reason were returning to the lunacy of what she was hearing, as if the weight of another voice would set things straight. “We left the seer there to help care for Cyrilla and to advise you. Surely, Jebra must have advised Cyrilla against such actions.”
Harold hung his head again. “I’m afraid that Queen Cyrilla ordered Jebra thrown into a dungeon. Moreover, the queen gave orders that if Jebra speaks one word of her blasphemy—as Queen Cyrilla calls it—she is to have her tongue cut out.”
Kahlan had to tell herself to blink. It was no longer Cyrilla’s behavior that so stunned her. Her words came sparse and brittle, the naked bones of dead respect.
“Harold, why would you follow the orders of a madwoman?”
His jaw took a set, as if injured by her tone. “Mother Confessor, she is not only my sister, but my queen. I am sworn to obey my queen in order to protect the Galean people. All those men of ours out there who have been fighting with your army are also sworn to protect the people of Galea above all else. I’ve already given them our queen’s orders. We must all return to Galea at once. I’m sorry, but that is the way it must be.”
Kahlan pounded her fist on the table and shot to her feet.
“Galea stands at the head of the Callisidrin Valley! It’s a gateway right up the center of the Midlands! Don’t you see what a tempting route it might be for the Imperial Order? Don’t you see how they might want to split the Midlands?”
“Of course I do, Mother Confessor.”
She aimed a stiff arm, pointing at the camp beyond the lodge.
“So you just expect all those men out there to put their lives between you and the Order? You and Queen Cyrilla callously expect all those men out there to die protecting you?—while you sit back in Galea?—hoping they prevent the Order from ever reaching you?”
“Of course not, Mother Confessor.”
“What’s the matter with you! Don’t you see that if you fight with us to halt the Order, you are protecting the people of your homeland?”
Harold licked his lip. “Mother Confessor, all you say is probably true. It is also irrelevant. I am commander of the Galean army. My entire life has been devoted to serving the people of Galea and my sovereign—first my mother and father, and then my sister. From the time I was a boy at my father’s knee, I was taught to protect Galea above all else.”
Kahlan did her best to control her voice. “Harold, Cyrilla is obviously still sick. If you are honestly interested in protecting your people, you must see that what you’re doing is not the way to accomplish it.”
“Mother Confessor, I have been charged by my queen with protecting the people of Galea. I know my duty.”
“Duty?” Kahlan wiped a hand across her face. “Harold, you can’t blindly follow that woman’s whim. The route to life and liberty exists only through reason. She may be queen, but reason can be your only true sovereign. To fail to use reason in this, to fail to think, is intellectual anarchy.”
He looked at her as if she were some poor child who didn’t understand the world of adult responsibility.
“She is my queen. The queen is devoted to the people.”
Kahlan drummed her fingers on the table. “What Cyrilla is, is deluded by ghosts that still haunt her. She is going to bring harm to your people. You are going to aid her in delivering your people into ruin because you wish something to be true, even though it is not. You are seeing her as she once was, not as she is now.”
He shrugged. “Mother Confessor, I can understand why you think what you think, but it can change nothing. I must do as my queen commands.”
Elbows on the table, Kahlan held her face in her hands for a time, trembling with anger at the insanity of what she was hearing. She finally looked up, meeting her half brother’s gaze.
“Harold, Galea is part of the D’Haran Empire. Galea has a queen only at the indulgence of the Empire. Queen though she may be, even if she does not recognize the rule of the D’Haran Empire, she is still, as she always has been, subordinate to the Mother Confessor of the Midlands. As Mother Confessor, as well as the leader of the D’Haran Empire in Lord Rahl’s absence, I formally terminate that indulgence. Cyrilla is now without authority and is removed from office. She is no longer the queen of anything, much less Galea.
“You are ordered to return to Ebinissia, to put Cyrilla under arrest for her own protection, to release Jebra, and to return to this army with the seer and all Galean forces except a home guard for the crown city.”
“Mother Confessor, I’m sorry, but my queen has ordered—”
Kahlan slammed the flat of her hand down on the table. “Enough!”
He fell silent as Kahlan rose. With her fingertips pressed to the table, she leaned closer to him.
“As Mother Confessor, I am commanding you to carry out my orders at once. That is final. I will hear no more.”
The room seemed gripped by the grave consequence of what was happening. Each forbidding face watched, waiting to see how it was going to go.
Harold spoke in a voice that reminded Kahlan of her father’s.
“I realize that it may make no sense to you, Mother Confessor, but I must choose my duty to my people above my duty to you. Cyrilla is my sister. King Wyborn always told me to run a good army. An officer must obey his queen. My men down here are ordered by their queen to return at once to protect Galea. I am a man bound by my honor to protect my people, as ordered by my queen.”
“You pompous fool. How dare you speak to me of your honor? You are sacrificing the lives of innocent people to your delusions of honor. Honor is honesty to what is, not blind duty to what you wish to be. You have no honor, Harold.
”
Kahlan sank into her chair. She looked past him, to the side, staring into the hearth, into the flames.
“I have given you my orders. Do you refuse to obey them?”
“I must refuse, Mother Confessor. Let me say only that it is not out of malice.”
“Harold,” she said in a flat tone without looking at him, “you are committing treason.”
“I realize that you may see it that way, Mother Confessor.”
“Oh, I do. I do indeed. Treason to your people, treason to the Midlands, treason to our D’Haran union against the Imperial Order, and treason against the Mother Confessor. What do you suppose I ought to do about it?”
“I would expect that if you feel so strongly, you would have me put to death, Mother Confessor.”
She looked up at him. “If you have enough sense to realize that, then what good will it do for you to stick to the orders of a madwoman? It will only bring your death, and then you will not be able to carry out your queen’s orders. Staying to your course can only leave your people without your aid, which is what you claim to put above all else. Why not simply do the right thing and help us to help your people? Since you refuse, you have shown yourself, in truth, to be without common sense, much less honor.”