“I gave it to her good—just the way she wanted it. I gave it to the whore good. I hurt her good, just like she deserved—”
With all her strength, Kahlan rammed her knee into his groin. Gadi doubled over, unable to draw his breath. His eyes rolled up in his head and he went down hard.
Cara smiled. “I thought you might like to hear that part.”
Kahlan wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It wasn’t Richard. I knew it wasn’t Richard. It was this pig.”
Kahlan kicked him in the ribs as he started coming around. He let out a cry. She wagged her fingers impatiently. Cara seized him by the hair and yanked him to his feet.
“Finish your story,” Kahlan said with icy rage.
He coughed and gagged and drooled. Cara had to steady him on his feet. She held his arms behind his back so he couldn’t comfort his groin. The pain was clearly evident in his contorted face.
“Talk, or I’ll do it again!”
“Please! I was telling you when you stopped me.”
“Get on with it!”
He nodded frantically. “When I was done with the whor—when I left Nicci, Kamil and Nabbi were crazy.”
Kahlan lifted his chin. “What do you mean, they were crazy?”
“They were crazy angry because I was with Richard’s wife. They like Richard, so they were crazy angry with me. They were going to do things to me. Hurt me. So, I decided to go into the army to fight for the Order against the heathens, and…”
Kahlan waited. She glanced up at Cara. The Mord-Sith did something behind Gadi’s back that made him gasp in a cry.
“And then I turned in Richard’s name!”
“You did what?”
“I turned in his name before I left. I told the city guards at Protector Muksin’s office that Richard was doing criminal things, that he was stealing work from working people—that he was making more than his fair share.”
Kahlan frowned. “What does that mean? What happens when you turn in a name?”
Gadi was trembling in terror. He clearly didn’t want to answer. Cara pressed her Agiel against his side. Blood oozed down his sweat-soaked shirt. He tried, but couldn’t draw a breath. His ashen face began to turn purple.
“Tell her,” Cara said in cold command.
Gadi gasped in a breath when she released the pressure. “They will arrest him. They will…make him…confess.”
“Confess?” Kahlan asked, fearing the answer.
Gadi nodded reluctantly. “They will torture a confession out of him, most likely. They might even hang his body from a pole and let the birds pick his bones if he confesses to something bad.”
Kahlan swayed on her feet. She thought she might throw up. The world had disintegrated into madness.
She kicked over the map basket and pawed through the maps until she found the one she wanted. She pulled a pen and an ink bottle out of their box, set the statue of Spirit on the ground, and spread the small map across the table.
“Come here,” Kahlan ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing to the ground before the table. She put the pen in his trembling fingers after he had shuffled close.
Kahlan pointed at the map. “We are here. Show me where you traveled with the Order.”
He pointed. “This river. I came up from the Old World with reinforcement troops, after some training. We joined the emperor’s force and we advanced up this river basin over the summer.”
Kahlan pointed to the Old World. “Now, I want you to mark the place where you lived.”
“Altur’Rang. That’s it, there.”
She watched him dip the pen and circle the dot and the name Altur’Rang, far to the south—the heart of the Old World.
“Now,” she said, “mark the roads you came up in the Old World—including any cities or towns you went through.”
Cara and Kahlan both watched Gadi mark roads and circle a number of cities and towns. Warren and the Sisters were from the Old World; they knew a great deal about the lay of the land, enabling them to provide detailed maps.
When he’d finished, Gadi looked up.
Kahlan turned over the map. “Draw the city of Altur’Rang. I want to see the major roads—anything you know of it.”
Gadi immediately set to drawing the map for her. When he was finished, he looked up again.
“Now, show me where this room is where Richard lives.”
Gadi marked the map to indicate the place. “But I don’t know if he will be there. Lots of people turn in the names of people suspected of wrongdoing against their fellow man. If they take the name and they arrest him…the Brothers may order penance, or they could even question him and then order him put to death.”
“Brothers?” Kahlan asked.
Gadi nodded. “Brother Narev and his disciples. They are the head of the Fellowship of Order. Brother Narev is our spiritual guide. He and the brothers are the heart of the Order.”
“What do they look like?” Kahlan asked, her mind already racing ahead.
“The brothers wear dark brown robes, with hoods. They are simple men who have given up the luxuries of life to serve the wishes of the Creator and the needs of mankind. Brother Narev is closer to the Creator than any man alive. He is mankind’s savior.”
Gadi was clearly awed by the man. Kahlan listened while Gadi told her everything he knew about the Fellowship of Order, about the brothers, and about Brother Narev.
Gadi shook in the silence after he had finished. Kahlan wasn’t watching him, but staring off.
“What did Richard look like,” she asked in a distant voice. “Was he well? Did he look all right?”
“Yes. He’s big and strong. Foolish people like him.”
Kahlan spun around, landing the heel of her hand against Gadi’s face hard enough to knock him from his feet.
“Get him out of here,” she told Cara.
“But you must show me mercy, now! I told you what you want to know!” He broke down in tears. “You must show me mercy!”
“You have a job to finish,” Kahlan said to Cara.
Kahlan pulled the tent flap back and peeked in. Sister Dulcinia was snoring softly. Holly looked up.
Tears filled the girl’s eyes as she stretched out her arms pleadingly. Kahlan knelt beside the girl and bent over to hug her. Holly started crying.
Sister Dulcinia woke with a snort. “Mother Confessor.”
Kahlan put a hand on the Sister’s arm. “It’s late. Why don’t you go get some sleep, Sister.”
Sister Dulcinia smiled her agreement and then grunted with the effort of struggling to her feet in the low tent. In the distance, on the far side of the camp, Kahlan could hear Gadi’s bloodcurdling screams.
Kahlan smoothed the downy hair from Holly’s brow and kissed her there. “How are you, sweetheart? Are you all right?”
“Oh, Mother Confessor, it was awful. Wizard Warren got hurt. I saw it.”
Kahlan hugged her as she started weeping again. “I know. I know.”
“Is it all right? Is he healed like they healed me?”
Kahlan cupped the little cheek and wiped a tear away with her thumb. “I’m sorry, Holly, but Warren died.”
Her brow bunched up with her misery. “He shouldn’t have tried to save me. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
“No,” Kahlan soothed. “That’s not the way it is. Warren gave his life to save us all. He did what he did out of his love of life. He didn’t want to let evil be free among those he loved.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do. Remember him for how he loved life, and how he wanted to see those he loved free to live their own lives.”
“He danced with me at his wedding. I thought he was the most handsome groom ever.”
“He was indeed a handsome groom,” Kahlan said with a smile at the memory. “He was one of the best men I’ve ever known, and he gave his life to help keep us free. We honor his sacrifice by living the best lives we can live.”
Kahlan started to rise, bu
t Holly hugged her all the tighter, so Kahlan lay down beside her. She stroked Holly’s brow, and kissed her cheek.
“Will you stay with me, Mother Confessor? Please?”
“For a while, sweetheart.”
Holly fell asleep cuddled up to Kahlan. Kahlan wept frustrated bitter tears over the sleeping girl, a girl who should have the right to live her life. Others, though, lusted to steal that right at the point of a blade.
After she had finally decided what she must do, Kahlan slipped silently out of the tent to go pack her things.
It was just turning light when Kahlan emerged from her tent carrying her bedroll, saddlebags, D’Haran sword, the Sword of Truth, leather armor, and pack with the rest of her things. Spirit was safely rolled up in her bedroll.
A light snow was just beginning to fall, announcing to the muted camp that winter had arrived in the northern Midlands.
Everything seemed as if it was ending. It wasn’t just Warren’s death that convinced her, but rather the futility it symbolized. She could no longer delude herself. The truth was the truth. Richard was right.
The Order would have it all. Sooner or later, they would have her and kill her, along with those who fought with her. It was only a matter of time until they enslaved all of the New World. They already had much of the Midlands. Some lands had fallen willingly. There was no way to resist a force of their overwhelming size, the terror of their threats, or the seduction of their promises.
Warren had attested it as part of his dying words: Richard was right.
She had thought she could make a difference. She had thought she could drive back the advancing horde—by the sheer weight of her will, if need be. It was arrogance on her part. The forces of freedom were lost.