Naked Empire (Sword of Truth 8)

“You are this gifted man, the favored heir, the Lord Rahl, and we are the ones banished by your kind,” one of the men said, expressing what looked to be a common fear, the unspoken question of what this would mean for them.

“That’s right,” Richard said. “I am the Lord Rahl, the leader of the D’Haran Empire, and you are the descendants of the pillars of Creation who were banished. I am gifted as have been my ancestors, every Lord Rahl before me. You are ungifted as were your ancestors.”

Standing before the statue of Kaja-Rang, the man who had banished them, Richard looked out at all the tense faces.

“That banishment was a grievous wrong. It was immoral. As Lord Rahl, I denounce the banishment and declare it forever ended. You are no longer the Empire of Bandakar, the banished ones, you are now once again, as you once were, D’Harans, if you choose to be.”

Every man seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if he meant it, or would add more, or if he might even recant it.

Richard put his arm around Kahlan’s waist as he calmly gazed out at all the hopeful expressions.

Richard smiled. “Welcome home.”

And then they were all falling at his feet, kissing his boots, his pants, his hands, and, for those who couldn’t crowd in close enough, the ground before him. In short order, they were kissing the hem of Kahlan’s dress.

They had found a relation, and were in turn welcoming him among them.

Chapter 42

As the men crowded around their feet, openly offering their gratitude for ending their sentence of banishment, Richard shared a sidelong glance with Kahlan. Cara looked decidedly displeased by the display but didn’t interfere.

Trying to bring a halt to the tearful tribute, Richard gestured for the men to get up. “There is much more to tell you. Listen to me, now.”

The smiling, tearful men drew back, hands clasped while gazing at him as if he were a long-lost brother. There were a few older men among the crowd and some of middle age, but most ranged from young, like Owen, to a little older, like Richard. They were all men who had been through terrible times.

The most difficult part still lay ahead; Richard had to make them face up to what was to come.

Looking over at Jennsen, standing alone off to the side, he gestured for her to come forward.

Jennsen emerged from the shadows of the statue, catching the attention of all eyes as she made her way toward Richard. The men all watched her coming into the light. She looked so beautiful that Richard couldn’t help smiling as she stepped across the rocks. Pulling on a red ringlet, she cast a shy glance at the men.

When Richard held an arm out, she sought protection under the shelter of that arm as she gazed nervously out at men who were like her in one important way.

“This is my sister, Jennsen Rahl,” Richard said. “She was born pristinely ungifted, just like all of you. Our father tried to kill her, as has been done for thousands of years with ungifted offspring.”

“And you?” a man asked, still skeptical. “You will not reject her?”

Richard hugged Jennsen with the one arm. “For what? For what crime should I reject her? Because she was born a woman, instead of a man like me? Because she isn’t as tall as me? Because she has red hair, instead of hair like mine? Because her eyes are blue and not gray?…Because she is ungifted?”

The men shifted their weight to the other foot or folded their arms. Some, after all he had already said, averted their eyes, looking embarrassed to have even asked the question.

“She’s beautiful, smart, and uses her head. She, too, fights for her right to live, and does so through reasoned means. She is as you men, pristinely ungifted. Because she shares an understanding of the value of life, I embrace her.”

Richard heard the bleat and turned. Betty, her rope trailing behind, trotted up the rise. Jennsen rolled her eyes as Betty came close, peering up, her tail wagging in a blur.

Jennsen snatched up the rope, inspecting the end. Richard could see that it had been chewed through.

“Betty,” she scolded, shaking the end of the rope at the unrepentant goat, “what did you do?”

Betty bleated her answer, clearly proud of herself.

Jennsen heaved a sigh as she shrugged an apology at Richard.

The men had all taken several steps back, murmuring their dread to one another.

“I’m not a witch,” Jennsen told them in a heated tone. “Just because I have red hair that doesn’t mean I’m a witch.”

The men looked thoroughly unconvinced.

“I’ve had dealings with a very real witch woman,” Richard told them. “I can assure you, red hair is no mark of a witch. It just isn’t true.”

“It is true,” one of the men insisted. He pointed at Betty. “There is her attendant spirit.”

Richard’s brow wrinkled. “Attendant spirit?”

“That’s right,” another told him. “A witch always has a familiar with her. She called her attendant spirit and it came to her.”

“Called her?” Jennsen brandished the frayed end of the rope at the men. “I tied her to a tree and she chewed through her rope.”

Another man shook his finger at her. “You called her with magic and she came.”

Fists at her sides, Jennsen took a step toward the men. They took a collective step back.

“You men all had family and friends—a community of people. I had no friends and could have none because my mother and I had to run from my father my whole life to keep from being caught. He wou

ld have tortured and murdered me had he caught me—the same as he would have done with you. I could have no childhood friends, so my mother gave me Betty. Betty was just newborn; we grew up together. Betty chewed through her rope because I’m the only family she’s ever known and she simply wanted to be close to me.

“I was banished from everyone for my crime of birth, just like your ancestors. You all know the injustice of such banishment and you know its pain. And now you foolish men would banish me from your acceptance because I have red hair and a goat as a pet? You are spineless cowards and hypocrites!

“First you poison the only person in the world brave enough to end our banishment from the rest of mankind and now you fear me and reject me because of silly superstitions. If I did have magic, I’d burn you all to a cinder for your cruel attitudes!”

Richard put a hand on her shoulder and drew her back. “It will be all right,” he whispered to her. “Just let me talk to them.”

“You tell us that you’re a wizard,” an older man in the back called out, “and then you expect us to believe it’s so—on faith—because you say it is, while you claim that we should not hold to our beliefs, such as our fear that she could be a witch with her familiar, because it’s held only on faith.”

“That’s right,” another said. “You claim your belief is in real magic, while you dismiss our belief. A lot of what you say makes sense, but I don’t agree with all of it.”

There could be no partial agreement. To reject part of the truth was to reject it all. Richard considered his options, how he could convince people without magic, who could not see magic, that real magic existed. From their perspective, he seemed guilty of the same error he was telling them they were making. How could he demonstrate a rainbow of color to the blind?

“You have a point,” Richard said. “Give me a moment and I will show you the reality of the magic I talk about.”

He motioned Cara closer. “Get me the warning beacon,” he said in a confidential tone.