Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

Kahlan was stunned. She no longer even felt the cold. “That’s wonderful, General. They are sorely needed. We have a real fight on our hands, as I explained in my letter. The Imperial Order is getting reinforcements all the time. We need to cut those lines.”

“I understand. With the D’Harans from Aydindril come with us, we can just about triple the size of your force down here.”

“And we can still bring more in from D’Hara,” General Meiffert said.

Kahlan felt the hot spark of faith in their chances swelling within her breast. “By spring, for sure, we will need them.” She cocked her head at General Baldwin. “What about Lieutenant Leiden?”

“Who? Oh, you must mean Sergeant Leiden. He only has a scout patrol, now. When a man deserts his queen, he’s lucky to keep his head, but he acted to protect her people, so I sent him to guard some remote pass. I hope the man dresses warmly.”

Kahlan wanted to throw her arms around the dashing General Baldwin. Instead, she touched her fingers to his arm in a gesture of her gratitude. “Thank you, General. We surely need the men.”

“Well, they’re up country a little ways, half a day back. Couldn’t fit them all in here with your army.”

“That’s fine.” Kahlan waggled her fingers, calling the Mord-Sith forward. “I’m very glad to see you, too, Rikka. With Mord-Sith, we can better handle the enemy gifted. We may even be able to turn the tide. Cara, here, has helped eliminate some of the gifted already, but I’m afraid that Lord Rahl has her under orders to protect me. She will continue in that capacity. But you will be free to go after their gifted.”

Rikka bowed. “Love to.” She came up and smiled. “Berdine warned me about her,” she said under her breath to Cara.

“You should listen to Berdine,” Cara said, clapping her on the back. “Come, I’ll help you find some quarters—”

“No,” Kahlan said, stopping them in their tracks. “This is a party. The general, Rikka, and her sisters are invited. In fact, I insist.”

“Well,” Rikka said, brightening, “as long as we’re protecting Lord Rahl’s wife, we would be only to happy to stay.”

Kahlan took Rikka’s arm and pulled her close. “Rikka, we have a lot of men here, and few women. This is a dance. Get out there and dance.”

“What! Are you out of your—”

Kahlan shoved her out into the dance area. She snapped her fingers at the musicians. “Shall we resume?” She turned to General Baldwin. “General, you have come at a wonderful time, a time of celebration. Please, would you dance with me?”

“Mother Confessor?”

“I am your queen, also. Generals dance with queens, do they not?”

He smiled and offered his arm. “Of course they do, my queen.”

Long after it was dark, the wedding procession made its way through the makeshift streets, greeting all the men. Thousands of soldiers congratulated Warren and Verna on their marriage, offered jesting advice, a gentle slap on the back, or just a merry wave.

Kahlan recalled a time when the Midlands feared these men. Under Darken Rahl, they were a formidable invader, inspiring dread and terror. She was amazed at how civil these men could be, how human, when given a chance. It was Richard, really, who had given them that chance. She knew that many of them understood that, and appreciated it.

When finally they reached the end of the long winding walk through the sprawling camp, they came at last to the tent Verna and Warren thought was to be theirs. Those following along bid the couple a good night and wandered back to the party, leaving the three of them alone.

Rather than let Verna and Warren slow, Kahlan stepped between them, took each under an arm, and guided them onto the path among the towering trees. Moonlight through the boughs cast wavering patterns on the snow. Not knowing what she was up to, neither Verna nor Warren protested as Kahlan kept them moving.

Finally, Kahlan spotted the lodge off through the trees. She stopped a little distance away to let them see the candlelight coming from behind the lace-like curtain. The juxtaposition against life in an army camp made it looked all the more romantic.

“This is a long and difficult struggle,” Kahlan told them. “Starting a marriage under these conditions is a harsh burden. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you two chose to go forward with it at a time like this. It means a great deal to all of us. We’re all very happy for you. More than anything, I would like to thank you both for choosing life in all its glory.

“We will one day have to move on, as surely the Order will move again when spring comes, if not before. But for now, I want this place to be yours. I can give you at least this much, this little piece of a normal life together.”

Verna unexpectedly burst into tears and buried her face in Kahlan’s shoulder. Kahlan patted the Prelate’s heaving back, chuckling at how out of character it was for Verna to show such emotion.

“Not a good idea, Verna, to let your new husband see you cry just as he’s about to take you to his bed.”

That did it, and Verna laughed, too. She gripped Kahlan’s shoulders as she searched her eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Kahlan kissed her cheek. “Love each another, be good to each other, and treasure being together—that’s what I would like more than anything.”

Warren hugged her, whispering his thanks in her ear. Kahlan watched as he led Verna the remaining distance to the lodge. At the door, both turned and waved. At the last moment, Warren swept Verna off her feet. Her lilting laugh drifted among the trees as he carried her through the doorway.

Alone, Kahlan turned back to the camp.

Chapter 44

The door opened a crack. One bloodshot eye peered out into the dingy hall.

“You have a room? My wife and I are looking for a room.” Before the man could close the door, Richard quickly added, “We were told you had one.”

“What of it?”

Despite it being self-evident, Richard answered politely. “We’ve no place to stay.”

“Why bring your problems to me?”

Richard could hear angry words going back and forth between a man and woman upstairs. Behind several of the doors in the hall, babies wailed without pause. The heavy odor of rancid oil hung in the dank air. Out the door at the back standing open to the narrow alley, young children, being chased by older children, squealed as they ran through the cold rain.

Richard spoke without expectation into the narrow slit. “We need a room.”

A dog not far up the alleyway barked with monotonous persistence.

“Lots of people need a room. I only have one. I can’t give it to you.”

Nicci eased Richard aside and put her face close to the crack.

“We have the money for the first week.” She shoved her hand against the door when he started to shut it. “It’s a public room. Your duty is to help the public get rooms.”

The man shouldered his weight into the door, shutting it in her face.

Richard turned away as Nicci began knocking. “Forget it,” he said. “Let’s go get a loaf of bread.”

Nicci usually followed his lead without admonishment, challenge, or even comment, but this time, instead of minding him, she rapped persistently on the door. Layers of peeling paint, every color from blue to yellow to red, fell from under her knuckles.

“It’s your duty,” Nicci called to the closed door. “You’ve no right to turn us away.” No answer came. “We’re going to report you.”

The door opened a crack again. The eye glared out with menace.

“Has he a job?”

“No, but—”

“You go away. The both of you—or I’ll report you!”