Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

“None? He sent no orders?”

Cara shook her head and then leaned over to dunk the cloth again. “He wrote letters to the general, though.”

She drew the blanket down, lifted the bandage at Kahlan’s side, and inspected its weak red charge before tossing it on the floor. With a gentle touch, she cleaned the wound.

When Kahlan was able to get her breath, she asked, “Did you see the letters?”

“Yes. They say much the same as he has told you—that he has had a vision that has caused him to come to see the nature of what he must do. He explained to the general that he could not give orders for fear of causing the end of our chances.”

“Did General Reibisch answer?”

“Lord Rahl has had a vision. D’Harans know the Lord Rahl must deal with the terrifying mysteries of magic. D’Harans do not expect to understand their Lord Rahl and would not question his behavior: he is the Lord Rahl. The general made no comment, but sent word that he would use his own judgment.”

Richard had probably told them it was a vision, rather than say it was simply a realization, for that very reason. Kahlan considered that a moment, weighing the possibilities.

“We have that much luck, then. General Reibisch is a good man, and will know what to do. Before too long, I’ll be up and about. By then, maybe Richard will be better, too.”

Cara tossed the cloth into the pail. As she leaned closer, her brow creased with frustration and concern.

“Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl said he will not act to lead us until the people prove themselves to him.”

“I’m getting better. I hope to help him get over what happened—help him to see that he must fight.”

“But this involves magic.” She picked at the frayed edge of the blue blanket. “Lord Rahl said it’s a vision. If it is magic, then it’s something he would know about and must handle in the way he sees it must be done.”

“We need to be a little understanding of what he’s been through—the loss we’ve all suffered to the Order—and remember, too, that Richard didn’t grow up around magic, much less ruling armies.”

Cara squatted and rinsed her cloth in the pail. After wringing it out, she went back to cleaning the wound in Kahlan’s side. “He is the Lord Rahl, though. Hasn’t he already proven himself to be a master of magic a number of times?”

Kahlan couldn’t dispute that much of it, but he still didn’t have much experience, and experience was valuable. Cara not only feared magic but was easily impressed by any act of wizardry. Like most people, she couldn’t distinguish between a simple conjuring and the kind of magic that could alter the very nature of the world. Kahlan realized now that this I wasn’t a vision, as such, but a conclusion Richard had arrived at.

Much of what he’d said made sense, but Kahlan believed that emotion was clouding his thinking.

Cara looked up from her work. Her voice bore an undertone of uncertainty, if not despairing bewilderment. “Mother Confessor, how will the people ever be able to prove themselves to Lord Rahl?”

“I’ve no idea.”

Cara set down the cloth and looked Kahlan in the eye. It was a long, uncomfortable moment before she finally decided to speak.

“Mother Confessor, I think maybe Lord Rahl has lost his mind.”

Kahlan’s immediate thought was to wonder if General Reibisch might believe the same thing.

“I thought D’Harans do not expect to understand their Lord Rahl and would not question his behavior.”

“Lord Rahl also says he wants me to think for myself.”

Kahlan put her hand over Cara’s. “How many times have we doubted him before? Remember the chicken-that-wasn’t-a-chicken? We both thought he was crazy. He wasn’t.”

“This is not some monster chasing us. This is something much bigger.”

“Cara, do you always follow Richard’s orders?”

“Of course not. He must be protected and I can’t allow his foolishness to interfere with my duty. I only follow his orders if they do not endanger him, or if they tell me to do what I would have done anyway, or if it involves his male pride.”

“Did you always follow Darken Rahl’s orders?”

Cara stiffened at the unexpected encounter with the name, as if speaking it might summon him back from the world of the dead. “You followed Darken Rahl’s orders, no matter how foolish they were, or you were tortured to death.”

“Which Lord Rahl do you respect?”

“I would lay down my life for any Lord Rahl.” Cara hesitated, and then touched her fingertips to the red leather over her heart. “But I could never feel this way for any other. I…love Lord Rahl. Not like you love him, not like a woman loves a man, but it is still love. Sometimes I have dreams of how proud I am to serve and defend him, and sometimes I have nightmares that I will fail him.”

Cara’s brow drew down with sudden dread. “You won’t tell him that I said I love him, will you? He must not know.”

Kahlan smiled. “Cara, I think he already knows, because he has similar feelings about you, but if you don’t wish it, I won’t say anything.”

Cara let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“And what made you come to feel that way about him?”

“Many things…. He wishes us to think for ourselves. He allows us to serve him by choice. No Lord Rahl has ever done that before. I know that if I said I wished to quit him, he would let me go. He would not have me tortured to death for it. He would wish me a good life.”

“That, and more, is what you value about him: he never pretended any claim to your lives. He believes no such claim can ever rightfully exist. It’s the first time since you were captured and trained to be Mord-Sith, that you have felt the reality of freedom.

“That, Cara, is what Richard wants for everyone.”

She swished a hand, as if dismissing the seriousness of the whole thing. “He would be foolish to grant me my freedom if I asked for it. He needs me too much.”

“You wouldn’t need to ask for your freedom, Cara, and you know it. You already have your freedom, and because of him you know that, too. That’s what makes him a leader you are honored to follow. That’s why you feel the way you do about him. He has earned your loyalty.”

Cara mulled it over.

“I still think he has lost his mind.”

In the past, Richard had more than once expressed his faith that, given a chance, people would do the right thing. That was what he had done with the Mord-Sith. That was also what he had done with the people of Anderith. Now…

Kahlan swallowed back her emotion. “Not his mind, Cara, but maybe his heart.”

Cara, seeing the look on Kahlan’s face, dismissed the seriousness of the matter with a shrug and a smile. “I guess we will simply have to bring him around to the way things are going to be—talk some sense into him.”

Cara dabbed away the remnant of a tear as it rolled down Kahlan’s cheek.

“Before he comes back, how about getting that stupid wooden bowl for me?”

Cara nodded and bent to retrieve it. Kahlan was already fretting, knowing how much it was going to hurt, but there was no avoiding it.

Cara came up with the shallow bowl. “Before those men came, I was planning on making a fire and warming some water. I was going to give you a bed bath—you know, with a soapy cloth and a bucket of warm water. I guess I can do it when we get where we are going.”

Kahlan half closed her eyes with the dreamy thought of being at least somewhat clean and fresh. She thought she needed a bath even more than she needed the wooden bowl to relieve herself.

“Cara, if you would do that for me, I would kiss your feet when I get better, and name you to the most important post I can think of.”

“I am Mord-Sith.” Cara looked nonplussed. She finally drew the blanket down. “That is the most important post there is—except perhaps wife to the Lord Rahl. Since he already has a wife, and I am already Mord-Sith, I will have to be content with having my feet kissed.”

Kahlan

chuckled, but a stab of pain through her abdomen and ribs brought it to an abrupt halt.

Richard was a long time in returning. Cara had made Kahlan drink two cups of cold tea heavily laced with herbs to dull the pain. It wouldn’t be long before she was in a stupor, if not exactly asleep. Kahlan had been just about to yield to Cara’s desire to go look for Richard, when he called from a distance to let them know it was him.

“Did you see any of the men?” Cara asked when he appeared in the doorway.

With a straight finger, Richard swiped glistening beads of sweat off his forehead. His damp hair was plastered to his neck. “No. They’re no doubt off to Hartland to do some drinking and complaining. By the time they come back we’ll be long gone.”

“I still say we should lie in wait and end the threat,” Cara muttered. Richard ignored her.