Naked Empire (Sword of Truth 8)

ords. “It doesn’t say ‘for beyond is evil: those who cannot see,’ but something profoundly different. It says, ‘Fear any breach of this seal to the empire beyond…for beyond are those who cannot see evil.’”

Kahlan’s brow drew down. “…those who cannot see evil.”

Richard lifted his bandaged arm up toward the figure towering over them. “That’s what Kaja-Rang feared most—not those who couldn’t see magic, but those who could not see evil. That’s his warning to the world.” He aimed a thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the men behind them. “That’s what this is all about.”

Kahlan was taken aback, and a little perplexed. “Do you think it might be that because these people can’t see magic they also can’t recognize evil,” she asked, “or that because of the way they’re different they simply don’t have the ability to conceive of evil, in much the same way they can’t conceive of objective magic as having nothing to do with mysticism?”

“That might in part be what Kaja-Rang thought,” Richard said. “But I don’t.”

“Are you so sure?” Jennsen asked.

“Yes.”

Before Kahlan could make him explain, Richard turned to the men. “Here, in stone, Kaja-Rang left a warning for the world. Kaja-Rang’s warning is about those who cannot see evil. Your ancestors were banished from the New World because they were pristinely ungifted. But this man, this powerful wizard, Kaja-Rang, feared them for something else: their ideas. He feared them because they refused to see evil. That’s what made your ancestors so dangerous to the people of the Old World.”

“How could that be?” a man asked.

“Thrown together and banished to a strange place, the Old World, your ancestors must have clung desperately to one another. They were so afraid of rejection, of banishment, that they avoided rejecting one of their own. It developed into a strong belief that no matter what, they should try not to condemn anyone. For this reason, they rejected the concept of evil for fear they would have to judge someone. Judging someone as evil meant they would have to face the problem of removing them from their midst.

“In their flight from reality, they justified their practices by settling on the fanciful notion that nothing is real and so no one can know the nature of reality. That way, they wouldn’t have to admit that someone was evil. Better to deny the existence of evil than have to eliminate the evildoer in their midst. Better to turn a blind eye to the problem, ignore it, and hope it went away.

“If they admitted the reality of evil, then eliminating the evildoer was the only proper action, so, by extension, since they had been banished, they thought that they must have been banished because they were evil. Their solution was to simply discard the entire concept of evil. An entire belief structure developed around this core.

“Kaja-Rang may have thought that because they were pristinely ungifted and couldn’t see magic, they also couldn’t see evil, but what he feared was the infection of their beliefs spreading to others. Thinking requires effort; these people offered beliefs that needed no thought, but merely adopting some noble-sounding phrases. It was, in fact, an arrogant dismissal of the power of man’s mind—an illusion of wisdom that spurned the requirement of any authentic effort to understand the world around them or the nuisance of validation. Such simplistic solutions, such as unconditionally rejecting all violence, are especially seductive to the undeveloped minds of the young, many of whom would have eagerly adopted such disordered reasoning as a talisman of enlightenment.

“When they began fanatically espousing these empty tenets to others, it probably set off the alarm for Kaja-Rang.

“With the spread of such ideas, with the kind of rabid hold it has over some people, such as it has over you men, Kaja-Rang and his people saw how, if such beliefs ran free, it would eventually bring anarchy and ruin by sanctioning evil to stalk among their people, just as it leaves you men defenseless against the evil of the Imperial Order now come among you.

“Kaja-Rang saw such beliefs for what they were: embracing death rather than life. The regression from true enlightenment into the illusion of insight spawned disorder, becoming a threat to all of the Old World, raising the specter of a descent into darkness.”

Richard tapped his finger on the top of the ledge. “There is other writing up here, around the base, that suggests as much, and what became the eventual solution.

“Kaja-Rang had those who believed these teachings collected, not only all the pristinely ungifted banished from the New World, but also the rabid believers who had fallen under their delusional philosophy, and banished the whole lot of them.

“The first banishment, from the New World down to the Old, was unjust. The second banishment, from the Old World to the land beyond here, had been earned.”

Jennsen, twiddling the frayed end of Betty’s rope, looked dubious. “Do you really think there were others banished along with those who were pristinely ungifted? That would mean there were a great many people. How could Kaja-Rang have made all these people go along? Didn’t they resist? How did Kaja-Rang make them all go? Was it a bloody banishment?”

The men were nodding to her questions, apparently wondering the same thing.

“I don’t believe that High D’Haran was a common language among the people, not down here, anyway. I suspect that it was a dying language only used among certain learned people, such as wizards.” Richard gestured to the land beyond. “Kaja-Rang named these people Bandakar—the banished. I don’t think the people knew what it meant. Their empire was not called the Pillars of Creation, or some name referring only to the ungifted. The writing here suggests that it was because it was not only the pristinely ungifted who were banished, but all those who believed as they did. They all were Bandakar: the banished.

“They thought of themselves, of their beliefs, as enlightened. Kaja-Rang played on that, flattering them, telling them that this place had been set aside to protect them from a world not ready to accept them. He made them feel that, in many ways, they were being put here because they were better than anyone else. Not given to reasoned thinking, these people were easily beguiled in this fashion and duped into cooperating with their own banishment. According to what’s hinted at in the writing here around the statue’s base, they went happily into their promised land. Once confined to this place, marriage and subsequent generations spread the pristinely ungifted trait throughout the entire population of Bandakar.”

“And Kaja-Rang really believed they were such a terrible threat to the rest of the people of the Old World?” Jennsen asked. Again, men nodded, apparently in satisfaction that she had asked the question. Kahlan suspected that Jennsen might have asked the question on behalf of the men.

Richard gestured up at the statue of Kaja-Rang. “Look at him. What’s he doing? He’s symbolically standing watch over the boundary he placed here. He’s guarding this pass, watching over a seal keeping back what lies beyond. In his eternal vigilance his hand holds a sword, ever at the ready, to show the magnitude of the danger.

“The people of the Old World felt such gratitude to this important man that they built this monument to honor what he had done for them in protecting them from beliefs they knew would have imperiled their society. The threat was no trifling matter.

“Kaja-Rang watches over this boundary even in death. From the world of the dead he sent me a warning that the seal had been breached.”

Richard waited in the tense silence until all the men looked back at him before he quietly concluded.

“Kaja-Rang banished your ancestors not only because they couldn’t see magic, but, more importantly, because they couldn’t see evil.”

In restless disquiet, the men glanced about at their companions. “But what you call evil is just a way of expressing an inner pain,” one of them said, more as a plea than as an argument.

“That’s right,” another told Richard. “Saying someone is evil is prejudiced thinking. It’s a way of belittling someone already in pain for some reason. Such people must be embra

ced and taught to shed their fears of their fellow man and then they will not strike out in violent ways.”

Richard swept his glare across all the watching faces. He pointed up at the statue.

“Kaja-Rang feared you because you are dangerous to everyone—not because you are ungifted, but because you embrace evil with your teachings. In so doing, in trying to be kind, to be unselfish, in trying to be nonjudgmental, you allow evil to become far more powerful than it otherwise would. You refuse to see evil, and so you welcome it among you. You allow it to exist. You give it power over you. You are a people who have welcomed death and refused to denounce it.

“You are an empire naked to the shadow of evil.”

After a moment of thick silence, one of the older men finally spoke up. “This belief in evil, as you call it, is a very intolerant attitude and is far too simplistic a judgment. It’s nothing less than an unfair condemnation of your fellow man. None of us, not even you, can judge another.”

Kahlan knew that Richard had a great deal of patience, but very little tolerance. He had been very patient with these men; she could see that he had reached the end of his tolerance. She half expected him to draw his sword.

He walked among the men, his raptor glare moving individuals back as he passed. “Your people think of themselves as enlightened, as above violence. You are not enlightened; you are merely slaves awaiting a master, victims awaiting killers. They have finally come for you.”

Richard snatched up the small bag and stood before the last man who had spoken. “Open your hand.”

The man glanced to those at his sides. Finally, he held his hand out, palm up.

Richard reached into the bag and then placed a small finger, its flesh withered and stained with dried blood, in the man’s hand.