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“You did not see what I saw when Merritt pushed that sword through your heart. He did that not because he wanted to make you a Confessor, but because you wanted it. It was the choice you made. It was killing him inside, but he did it anyway.
“It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, and though it was killing him, though it was breaking his own heart, he did it because you wanted it. He wanted to give you what you wanted, no matter how much it hurt him.”
Magda swallowed back her sobs. She tried to bring her voice forth, but she couldn’t form words.
“Don’t let what we had limit the even greater experience you can have with Merritt. Don’t let a misguided loyalty to me limit your heart and what you can have in greater abundance for yourself.
“To love another, you must first love yourself. Love yourself, Magda, so that you can love him. Love yourself enough to let your memories of me ease away from closing your heart.
“Love yourself enough to know that you deserve happiness.
“Know that I have nothing but love for Merritt, as I have for you. You have walked the path that has taken you to the possibility of something wonderful. Don’t lose sight of that path because you are looking back at a memory of me.
“I am no more. Let me go, Magda. I am at peace now, let me go deeper beyond the veil.”
Tears ran down Magda’s face as she sobbed.
“Thank you, Baraccus. You’ve given me so much. Thank you for my life. I won’t waste it, I swear.”
“I know you won’t, Magda. I know you won’t.”
Chapter 103
Magda stood in the center of the dais, before the half circle of the council’s desk, before the council, in her white Confessor’s dress. There were only three councilmen there, Sadler, Clay, and Hambrook, but they would soon add to those numbers so that they could do their work.
The center chair sat empty.
That center chair was hers, now.
She presided over the council, now.
She balanced the council, now, with a Confessor’s voice.
Behind her, in the great council chambers, there were a limited number of people. It was not a council session opened to the general public. It was invited guests only.
General Grundwall was there, much chagrined that he had ever expressed faith in Lothain to her just because he thought that Magda had agreed to marry him. He had apologized countless times. Magda had to finally order him to never apologize to her about that again.
Tilly was there as well, healed, in good health, and in good cheer. She beamed with pride at seeing Magda in her white Confessor’s dress, at seeing Magda having the important place at the Keep that Tilly always thought she should have.
Quinn, likewise all smiles, was there as well, as was Naja. Magda missed Baraccus and Isidore and all those like them who were no longer with them and were now with the good spirits, but she was thankful for the friends they did have with them.
Merritt stood beside her, looking as handsome as she had ever seen him look. The Sword of Truth, in its ornately worked gold and silver scabbard, gleamed against his dark outfit. Since she was to his left, she could see the word Truth standing out in gold letters on the hilt.
Councilman Sadler beamed with pride as he addressed them.
“Magda, Merritt, we at the Keep all owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude.”
Magda’s hand found Merritt’s.
“Now,” he said, “we must call upon you both to help the people not only of the Keep, but of the Midlands, D’Hara, and in fact all of the New World to stand against the threats we face.
“Merritt, we have taken your admonition under consideration and we agree that we should abide by your recommendation, and Magda’s, that a Confessor’s power is better suited to women than men. We agree that the Confessor’s power should rightly only be invested in women.
“We need the ability of a Confessor to help us discover truth as we go forward in this struggle for our survival. We therefore ask that you create a new force in the world, the Confessors, a band of sisters who can stand for truth.”
Merritt bowed his head as he squeezed Magda’s hand. “I can do that.”
“And Magda, we ask that you be their leader, the Mother Confessor, and help make them as effective, as dedicated, as noble in fighting for truth as you have shown yourself to be.”
Magda bowed her head as she squeezed Merritt’s hand. “I can do that.”
“And Merritt,” Councilman Sadler said, “we have come to understand, as you have explained it, the particular vulnerabilities of a Confessor. Especially in the time following the use of her power, when she is weakened and less able to protect herself. Even more critically, because of the nature of the power that she possesses, she is going to be a prime target for a great many dangerous people.
“We therefore ask that you be permanently assigned to be protector to Magda, the Mother Confessor. Once the band of sister Confessors is created, they too will each need a wizard to be their protector and to help them in their duties.
“But for now, there are only you two, the Mother Confessor, and her wizard. That is, if you both agree, of course.” He looked to each of them in turn. “Do you both agree to this?”
Magda smiled as she and Merritt shared a look.
Looking into her eyes, Merritt said, “Wizard Merritt agrees and promises to always protect Magda, the Mother Confessor.”
Looking into Merritt’s eyes, Magda said, “And Magda, the Mother Confessor, will always stand by her wizard, Merritt.”
The people in the room erupted in cheering.
As the people were celebrating the news, Merritt leaned close. “You look positively stunning, Mother Confessor.”
Magda’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you about your hair,” he said in a private tone.
She smoothed her hair back, then pulled out the white confession flower she had placed there, the flower Baraccus had once given her that she had kept in her silver box of memories. She twirled the little flower in her fingers, thinking about the path she had taken.
“What about my hair?”
“You can’t cut it.”
Magda twitched a frown up at him. “I can if I want.”
“No, actually, you can’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
He leaned a little closer, looking a bit guilty. “The power won’t let a Confessor cut her hair.”
Magda was truly puzzled. “Won’t let me? What in the world are you talking about?”
“The length of a woman’s hair denotes status in the Midlands. You are the Mother Confessor. There is no woman of higher status than the Mother Confessor. Cutting your hair would be lowering your status in the eyes of many, so the magic of a Confessor’s power won’t allow it.”
“Won’t allow it,” she repeated in a flat tone.
“That’s right, won’t allow it.”
“Well, what if it needs to be trimmed?”
