Naked Empire (Sword of Truth 8)

The touch of the Agiel was out of all proportion to what it would appear it should feel like. The thunderous jolt of pain shot up his arm. The shock of it slammed into his shoulder. It felt like the bones in his entire arm shattered. Teeth gritted, he held his trembling arm out as Cara slowly dragged the Agiel down toward his wrist. Blood-filled blisters rose in its wake. Blood gushed down his arm.

Richard held his breath, kept his abdominal muscles tight, as he went to one knee, not because he intended to, but because he couldn’t remain standing under the weight of pain as he held his arm up for Cara as she pressed the Agiel to it. The men gasped as they watched, shocked at the blood, the obvious pain. They whispered their astonishment.

Cara withdrew the weapon. Richard released the rigid tension in his muscles, bending forward as he panted, trying to catch his breath, trying to remain upright. Blood dripped off his fingers.

Kahlan was there beside him with a small scarf Jennsen pulled from a pocket. “Are you out of your mind?” she hissed heatedly as she wrapped his bleeding arm.

“Thanks,” he said in response to her care, not wanting to address her question.

He couldn’t make his fingers stop trembling. Cara had held little back. He was sure that she hadn’t broken any bones, but it felt as if she had. He could feel tears of pain running down his face.

When Kahlan finished, Cara put a hand under his arm and helped him to his feet. “The Mother Confessor is right,” she growled under her breath. “You are out of your mind.”

Richard didn’t argue the need of what he’d had her do, but instead turned to the men. He held his arm out. A wet crimson stain slowly grew along the length of the scarf bandage.

“There is powerful magic for you. You can’t see the magic, but you can see the results. That magic can kill, should Cara wish it.” The men cast worried glances her way, viewing her with newfound respect. “But it could not harm you men because you have no ability to interact with such magic. Only those born with the spark of the gift can feel the touch of an Agiel.”

The mood had changed. The sight of blood had sobered everyone.

Richard paced slowly before the men. “I’ve given you the truth in all that I’ve told you. I’ve kept nothing important or relevant from you, nor will I. I’ve told you who I am, who you are, and how we’ve come to this point. If there is anything you wish to know, I will give you my truthful answer.”

When Richard paused, the men looked around at one another, seeing if anyone would ask a question. No one did.

“The time has come,” Richard said, “for you men to decide your future and the future of your loved ones. Today is the day upon which that future hinges.”

Richard gestured toward Owen. “I know that Owen had a woman he loved, Marilee, who was taken away by the Order. I know that each of you has suffered great loss at the hands of the men of the Imperial Order. I don’t know all your names, yet, or the names of the loved ones taken from you, but please believe me when I tell you that I know such pain.

“While I understand how you came to the point where you thought you had no options but to poison me, it wasn’t right for you to have done so.” Many men looked away from Richard’s gaze, casting their own downward. “I’m going to give you a chance to set the proper course for yourselves and your loved ones.”

He let them consider this a moment before going on. “You men have passed many tests to make it this far, to have survived this long in such a brutal situation as you have all faced, but now you must make a choice.”

Richard rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “I want to know where you’ve hidden the antidote to the poison you’ve given me.”

Worried looks spread through the crowd. Men glanced to the side, trying to judge the feelings of their fellows, trying to see what they would do.

Owen, too, tried to gauge the reaction of his friends, but being just as uncertain as he, they offered no firm indication of what they wanted to do. Finally he licked his lips and timidly asked a question.

“If we say that we will tell you where the antidote is, will you agree to first give us your word that you will help us?”

Richard resumed his measured pacing. The men nervously waited for his answer as they watched blood drip off his fingers, leaving a trail of crimson drops on the stone.

“No,” Richard said. “I will not allow you to link two separate issues. It was wrong to poison me. This is your chance to reverse that wrong. Linking it to any concession perpetuates the fallacy that it can somehow be justified. Telling me where you’ve hidden the antidote is the only proper thing for you to do, now, and must be without condition. This is the day you must decide how you will live your future. Until you give me your decision, I will tell you nothing more.”

Some of the men looked on the verge of panic, some on the verge of tears. Owen prodded them all back, away from Richard, so that they could discuss it among themselves.

“No,” Richard said, his pacing coming to a halt. The men all fell silent and turned back toward him. “I don’t want any of you coming to a decision because of what another says. I want each of you to give me your own personal decision.”

The men stared. A number spoke up all at once, wanting to know what he meant.

“I want to know, without any preconditions, what each individual chooses to do—to free me of the poison, or to use it as a threat on my life to gain my cooperation. I want to know each man’s choice.”

“But we must reach a consensus,” one man said.

“For what purpose?” Richard asked.

“In order for our decision to be correct,” he explained. “No proper decision about the right course of action in any important situation can be made without a consensus.”

“You are attempting to give moral authority to mob rule,” Richard said.

“But a consensus points to the proper moral judgment,” another man insisted, “because it is the will of the people.”

“I see,” Richard said. “So what you’re saying is that if all of you men decide to rape my sister, here, then it’s a moral act because you have a consensus to rape her, and if I oppose you, I’m immoral for standing alone and failing to have a consensus behind me. That about the way you men see it?”

The men shrank back in confused revulsion. One spoke up.

“Well…no, not exactly—”

“Right and wrong are not the product of consensus,” Richard said, cutting him off. “You are trying to make a virtue of mob rule. Rational moral choices are based on the value of life, not a consensus. A consensus can’t make the sun rise at midnight, nor can it change a wrong into a right, or the other way around. If something is wrong, it matters not if a thousand other men are for it; you must still oppose it. If something is just, no amount of popular outcry should stay you from your course.

“I’ll not hear any more of this empty gibberish about a consensus. You are not a flock of geese; you are men. I will know the mind of each of you.” He gestured to the ground at their feet. “Everyone, pick up two pebbles.”

Richard watched as the bewildered men hesitantly bent and did his bidding.

“Now,” Richard said, “you will put either one or both pebbles in a

closed fist. Each of you will come up to me, to the man you poisoned, and you will open your fist so that I can see your decision but the others can’t.

“One pebble will mean no, you will not tell me where the antidote is located unless I first pledge to try to free your people. Two pebbles in your one fist will mean yes, you agree to tell me, without any precondition, where to find the antidote to the poison you’ve given me.”

“But what will happen if we agree to tell you?” one of the men asked. “Will you still give us our freedom?”

Richard shrugged. “After each of you has given me your answer, you will all find out mine. If you tell me the location of the antidote, I may help you, or once I’m free of your poison, I may leave you and return to taking care of my own urgent problems. You will only find out after you’ve given me your answer.

“Now, turn away from your friends and put either one pebble in your fist for no or two pebbles to agree to reveal the location of the poison. When you’ve finished, come forward one at a time and open your hand to show me your own individual decision.”

The men milled around, casting sidelong glances at one another, but as he’d instructed, they refrained from discussing the matter. Each man finally set about privately slipping pebbles into his fist.

As the men were occupied, Cara and Kahlan moved in close around Richard. It looked like the two of them had been reaching conclusions of their own.

Cara seized his arm. “Are you crazy?” she whispered in an angry tone.

“You’ve both already asked me that today.”

“Lord Rahl, need I remind you that you once before called for a vote and it only got you into trouble? You said you would not do such a foolish thing again.”

“Cara is right,” Kahlan argued in a low voice so the men couldn’t hear.

“This time is different.”

“It’s not different,” Cara snapped. “It’s trouble.”

“It’s different,” he insisted. “I’ve told them what’s right and why; now they must decide if they will choose to do the right thing or not.”

“You’re allowing others to decide your future,” Kahlan said. “You’re placing your fate in their hands.”