“Surrender an army,” Sister Jodelle said in a reflective tone.
“You see, my kind Sisters, Jagang is trying to use prophecy to win this war. In that, he has made a mistake; he is using wizards who are not real prophets. I could provide the expert service of a real prophet. His alternative is to have a real prophet as his enemy, and amateurs to aid him. The aid of amateurs is what got him into this… predicament, don’t you see?
“For a small, insignificant slice of the spoils, I can get him out of it. I’m sure you can understand that after all those years under the care of you fine Sisters, I’d like to spend my few remaining years enjoying the pleasures of life.
“With my help, there will be no more resistance from the New World than that offered by Renwold. If Jagang should choose to be unreasonable, well, who knows, with a real prophet on the side of the New World, they might even win.”
Sister Jodelle studied Nathan’s eyes. “Yes. I see what you mean.”
Nathan held out his letter. “Here. Give this to Jagang. It explains my proposal and terms, in return for my surrender of the New World. As I said, I’m sure he will find me much more reasonable than the present Lord Rahl; I know that there is no profit in war. One leader or another, it means little. Why should hundreds of thousands of people die over the name put to that leader?”
Both Sisters glanced around the luxurious room and smiled conspiratorially at Nathan.
“Why, you crafty old man,” Sister Jodelle said. “And here, all this time, we thought you were just an old fool, living out your life down in your apartments. Well, Lord Rahl, we will pass your words along to Emperor Jagang. I think he will find them most interesting. Had the present Lord Rahl been so reasonable, he wouldn’t be in his present, fatal difficulties.”
“All those years do give a man time to think.”
Sister Jodelle turned back from the door. “I can’t speak for the emperor, Lord Rahl, but I think he will be most pleased with this news. I think we can dare to see the end to this war, and the victory that will result in Jagang being the name put to the leader of all people.”
“I just want the killing to stop. It would profit us all, Sister. Oh, and tell Jagang that I am sorry about Vincent, but the boy wasn’t really serving him well, anyway.”
Sister Jodelle shrugged. “You’re right, Lord Rahl, he wasn’t.”
50
Richard ran his fingers through his hair as he rested his forehead in his palms. He looked up when he heard someone enter the room. It was Kahlan.
His heart lifted at her smile, her bright green eyes, the lush fall of her thick hair, at how beautiful she was. He marveled at her beauty, and that she loved him.
The safety he felt in that love was something he had never imagined he would feel. He had always imagined being in love with someone, but he had never imagined the feeling of security and peace it would bring to his soul. If Shota ever did anything to harm that security…
Kahlan carried a steaming bowl of soup. “I thought you might like something to eat. You’ve been at this for a hand of days now; I think you need to get more sleep, too.”
He glanced at the big white bowl in her hands. “Thanks.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Richard, what’s wrong? Your face is white as ashes.”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I feel a little sick.”
She turned white as ashes, too. “Sick. Richard, it isn’t—”
“No, it’s not that. It’s this book on the Temple of the Winds inquisition and trial. I almost wish I’d never found it.”
Kahlan leaned over as she set down the bowl. “Here. Eat some of this.”
“What is it?” Richard asked, as he watched the lush curve of her cleavage rise and fall above the square neckline of her white Confessor’s dress.
“Lentil porridge. Eat some. What have you found out?”
Richard sucked in through his mouth to cool the spoonful of porridge. “I haven’t translated much yet, it’s taking forever, but from just the little bit I’ve been able to figure out, these people, these wizards… they… they executed all the wizards who sent away the Temple of the Winds. The temple team, they called them. Almost a hundred men.” He pulled a finger across his throat.
Kahlan sat on the edge of the table opposite him. “What did they do to warrant death?”
Richard stirred the porridge. “Well, for one thing, they left a way into the Temple of the Winds, as they were directed to do, but they made it so hard to get back into the temple that when these people wanted to get back in to retrieve some magic, in order to fight the war, they couldn’t.”
“Kolo said that there were the red moons, that the temple sent the warning. You mean, the wizards of old were never able to answer the warning?”
“That wasn’t the way it worked. They did get back in.” He waved his spoon for emphasis. “In fact, that was the reason for the red moon. It was the second attempt to get in, to answer the red moons caused by the first person sent, that they failed at.”
Kahlan leaned toward him while Richard ate a spoonful of porridge. “But this first person got in?”
“Oh yes, he got in. In that was the problem.”
Kahlan shook her head. “I’m not following this.”
Richard set down his spoon and leaned back in his chair. He met her gaze.
“The temple team, who sent away the Temple of the Winds, were also the ones who placed the magic in it. You know about some of the terrible magical creations that were made in the war? Things made out of people? Like the mriswith? Like the dream walkers?
“Well, the people of the New World were fighting the people of the Old World, who wanted to eliminate magic, much as Jagang does today. These wizards who took the things of power to the safety of the temple were somewhat in sympathy with those in the Old World who wanted to eliminate magic. They thought that using people to create these terrible weapons was as evil as some of the very things they fought against.”
Fascinated, Kahlan leaned toward him. “You mean they turned to the side of the enemy? They were really working for those in the Old World, to eliminate magic?”
“No, they weren’t working to defeat the New World, or to stop all magic, but they felt that they viewed the whole matter on a wider scope than just the war, unlike the wizards in charge, here, at the Keep. They sought the middle ground. They decided that, to an extent, the war, and all their troubles, were related to the misuse of magic.
“They decided that something had to be done.”
Kahlan hooked some hair behind her ear. “Done? Like what?”
“You know the way the Keep used to be full of wizards? The way wizards used to have both sides of the magic? The way the wizards of old wielded much more power than even Zedd does now as First Wizard? The way those born with the gift are more and more rare all the time?
“I think these wizards used the Temple of the Winds to withdraw some of magic’s power from this world—they locked it away in the underworld, where it couldn’t be used to cause harm, as they saw it, in this world.”
Kahlan put a hand to her chest. “Dear spirits. What gave them the right to decide this? They are not the Creator who gave all things, including magic.”
Richard smiled. “The head of the inquisition said much the same thing. He demanded to know exactly what they had done.”
“And have you found the answer?”
“I haven’t translated much, yet, and I don’t understand the way the magic worked, but I think that what the temple team did was to lock away the Subtractive portion of the wizards’ magic. It’s the Subtractive part that was used to turn people into these weapons; with it, they took away parts of who these people were, the parts these wizards didn’t want, and then with Additive Magic, the wizards added in the things they did want, so they could use these people as weapons.”
“What about you? You were born with both sides. If the power was locked away, how does that explain your gift? I, too, have an element of Subtractiv
e Magic to my Confessor’s power. Darken Rahl used Subtractive Magic, as do some of the Sisters. There are creatures yet today who have some of this element to their magic.”
Richard wiped a weary hand across his face. “I don’t know. I’m not even positive about what I’ve told you. There’s still most of this book to translate. I’ve only just begun.
“Even when I translate it all, I’m not sure it will provide the answers we want. This was an inquisition and trial; they weren’t trying to teach me history. It was common knowledge at the time. They didn’t need to explain it.
“What I’m beginning to think the temple team did was to halt Subtractive Magic’s ability to be passed on to the offspring of wizards. Your magic isn’t passed on from a wizard, so perhaps that’s why it wasn’t affected. Darken Rahl learned to use Subtractive Magic; he wasn’t born with it. Therein, perhaps, lies the difference. Maybe they miscalculated how taking Subtractive Magic out of those born with the wizard’s gift would affect the balance, and so didn’t anticipate the way it would cause fewer and fewer to be born with the gift.
“Maybe they did know. Maybe that’s what they wanted. Maybe that’s why they were executed.”
“What about the red moons?”
“Well, when those in charge found all this out, they sent someone to undo what these wizards had done. They needed one with tremendous power, and conviction, hoping he would have enough strength to succeed. They sent the most zealous proponent of magic among them, a fanatic—the head prosecutor, a powerful wizard named Lothain—to the Temple of the Winds to undo the damage.”
Kahlan drew her lower lip between her teeth. “What happened?”
“He got in, through Betrayer’s Hall, just like you told me. It worked just as you said; Lothain entered, but in so doing, he betrayed them. I’m not sure what it was that he did; many of the words, I think, have to do with specific magic that I don’t understand. But from what I gather, he reinforced what the wizards who sent the temple away had done, and made it even worse.
“He betrayed those in the New World. Because he had to alter the way the Temple of the Winds held this magic, it set off the warnings of the red moons.
“When the Temple sent the red moons, and the call for aid, a wizard was sent. Because the temple was sending for help, the wizards were glad for the call, since it meant that they wouldn’t have to enter through Betrayer’s Hall. They thought they would be able to get in and at last remedy the problem. He never came back. They sent another, more powerful and experienced wizard. He never returned, either.
“Finally, in view of the seriousness of the situation, the First Wizard himself went to the Temple of the Winds.” Richard lifted the amulet at his chest. “Baraccus.”
“Baraccus,” Kahlan breathed in wonder. “Did he get into the temple?”
“They were never sure.” Richard pushed his thumb back and forth along the edge of the table. “Baraccus came back in a dazed stupor. They followed after him, but he didn’t react or respond to anything they said or did.
“He went into the First Wizard’s enclave—his retreat—and left this there.” Richard held up the amulet at his chest, showing it to her. “He came out, removed the rest of his outfit—these things I wear—and then walked to the edge of the rampart and jumped off the side of the mountain to his death.”
Kahlan sat back up straight while Richard cleared his throat and gathered his voice before going on.
“After that, the wizards abandoned any further attempt to get into the Temple of the Winds, to answer the call of the red moons, as impossible. They were never able to get in to undo the damage the temple team and then Lothain had done.”
Kahlan watched him with a sober look as he stared off at nothing. “How did they know all this?”
Richard’s fist tightened around the amulet at his chest.
“They used a Confessor. Magda Searus. The first Mother Confessor herself.”
“She lived in that time? She was there, in this war? I never knew that.”
Richard rubbed his fingertips across the furrows on his brow. “Lothain wouldn’t tell them what he had done. The wizards conducting the trial were the ones who ordered the creation of the Confessors. Magda Searus was the first. They knew that they wouldn’t be able to torture the truth out of Lothain—they tried—so they took this woman, Magda Searus, created the magic of the Confessors, and instilled the power in her.
“She touched Lothain with her power and got the truth out of him. He confessed the extent of what the temple team had done, and what he had done.”
Richard looked away from her green eyes. “The wizard who did this to Magda Searus, created the Confessors’ power, was named Merritt. The tribunal was so pleased with the results of Merritt’s conjuring that they commanded an order of Confessors to be created, and wizards assigned to safeguard them.
“Merritt became protector to Magda Searus, her wizard, in return for the life, the duty, to which he had condemned her, to which he had condemned all the descendants of Confessors to follow.”
The room fell silent. Kahlan was wearing her Confessor’s face: the blank expression that showed nothing of her feelings. He didn’t need to see an expression on her face to know her feelings. Richard pulled the porridge back and ate some more. It had cooled considerably.
“Richard,” Kahlan finally whispered, “if these wizards, with all that power, with all that knowledge… if even they couldn’t get into the Temple of the Winds after it sent its warning with the red moons, then…”
Her voice trailed off. Richard put words to the rest of it.
“Then how can I hope to?”
Richard ate lentil porridge as the uncomfortable silence dragged on.
“Richard,” Kahlan said in a quiet voice, “if we don’t get into the temple, then what the spirit showed me will come to pass. Death will sweep the land. Untold numbers of people will die.”
Richard nearly leaped to his feet and screamed at her that he knew that. Nearly screamed, asking what she expected him to do. Instead, he swallowed back the screams along with the porridge.
“I know,” he whispered.
He went back to eating his porridge in silence. When he had finished, and was sure he had composed himself, he went on.
“One of the temple team, a wizard named Ricker, made a statement before they executed him.” Richard pulled the piece of paper with the translation out of the disorderly stack and read it to her. “‘I can no longer countenance what we do with our gift. We are not the Creator, nor are we the Keeper. Even a vexatious prostitute has the right to live her life.’”
“What was he talking about?” Kahlan asked.
“I think that when the wizards used people—destroyed them—to create the things they needed to fight the war, I think they used people who were troublesome for one reason or another—people they didn’t mind destroying. I’ve heard it said that a wizard must use people. I doubt they knew the ghastly origin of the maxim.”
He saw dismay haunting her eyes.
“Richard, do you think then, from what you’ve read, that it’s hopeless? Do you think we can do nothing, then?”
Richard didn’t know what to say. He reached over and clasped her hand. “The temple team, before they were executed, said in their own defense that they hadn’t sealed the temple away for good, as they might have easily done, but instead left a way in to answer the call. They said that if the need was truly great enough, it could still be entered.
“I will get in, Kahlan. I swear it.”
A small measure of relief came briefly to her beautiful eyes, but the haunted look settled back into them. Richard knew what she was thinking. It was the same as he’d wondered himself as he read of the madness that was the war, and of what people had done to each other.
“Kahlan, we don’t use magic to destroy people for our own purposes. We use it to fight against a cause that murders helpless children. We fight for freedom from terror and killing.”
A small smil
e returned as she squeezed his hand.
They both looked up when they heard a knock on the open door.
It was Drefan. “Can I come in? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, it’s all right,” Richard said. “Come in.”
“I just wanted you to know that I ordered the carts, like you wanted. It’s gotten to that point.”
Richard rubbed his fingertips across his forehead. “How many?”
“A little over three hundred last night, if the reports are all in. As you suspected might be the case, the people can’t handle that many dead anymore, and the numbers grow each day.”
Richard nodded. “We can’t let the dead wait. It could spread the plague even faster to have them rotting in the open air. They have to be buried as soon as they die. Tell the men I want the dead-carts sent out just as soon as they have it organized. I give them until sunset.”
“I already told them. As you say, we can’t allow bodies infected with the plague to go untended; it could make the plague worse.”
“It can get worse?” Richard mocked.
Drefan didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said. “That wasn’t called for. Have you found anything that is of any use?”
Drefan tugged down the sleeves of his white shirt. “Richard, there is no cure for the plague. At least, I know of none. The only hope is to stay healthy. Speaking of which, it isn’t healthy to sit in here all day and most of the night. You aren’t getting enough sleep, again. I can see it in your eyes. I’ve warned you about that before. And you need to walk around, get some air.”
Richard was sick of trying to translate the book, and sick of the things he found out when he succeeded. He flipped it closed and pushed back his chair.