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There were other creatures, too, that were magic, and people, too, who possessed it. Sometimes it was hard to place a line between creature of the wild, and people. Some people of the Midlands were part creature, or perhaps some creatures were part people. They were strange and delightful, and very shy.
And so it went throughout various forms of magic, from the simplest things in the Howling Caves that could let you peek through solid rock to see their nests, to people like the Mud People, who had only simple magic that would do but one thing.
As Mother Confessor, all these, and many more, were her charges, and as Mother Confessor, she commanded all to protect these magic places, so no one people would bear the brunt of burden against others. It was an arrangement backed by Confessors and wizards extending back for thousands of years.
The twilight beings, Riggs had called them. That was the name given to these magical creatures by the Blood of the Fold, among others, because many of them came out only at night. For this reason, the Blood associated them with darkness, and so, out of fear, with the darkness of the Keeper of the dead.
The Blood considered magic the force through which the Keeper extended his influence into this world, into the world of the living. The Blood were as unreasonable and thickheaded as any men alive. And, they considered it their duty to send to the land of the dead any who they thought served the Keeper. That was just about anyone who disagreed with their view of things. In some lands the Blood were outlawed, and in some, like Nicobarese, they were encouraged and paid by the Crown.
Maybe Riggs was right. Maybe she should have brought the rule of law to stop men like this. But that had never been the intent of the Council—to make all to bow in all things to one. The strength and beauty of the Midlands was in its diversity, even if some of that diversity was ugly. What was ugly to one was beautiful to another, and so it was that each land was to be left to rule itself, as long as it brought no force of arms no another. It was a tolerant suffering of things repugnant to allow things beautiful to blossom. It was a sometimes difficult and fine line to hold the Council to: forcing lands to work together in some things, but allowing them to be autonomous in others.
But perhaps Riggs was right. People in some lands suffered the cruel or poor rule of their greedy or inept leaders, with no hope of matters being brought to change from without. Though the wise, but smaller, lands had not to live in fear of outside conquest. If the suffering of the people under less fortunate rule could be ended with wise central rule, would not matters be improved?
Yet when all lived under the same rule, every other form of existence was extinguished and none would ever have the chance to grow, though one of them might have been a superior way. The kind of single rule the Imperial Order represented was slavery.
Kahlan was surprised to encounter Galean sentries further from their camp that before. They were no longer spread too far apart, and they were well hidden, popping up with drawn bows and bared steel when she was almost upon them. Chandalen, Prindin and Tossidin had obviously been at work. The sentries put fists to hearts when they recognized her.
The dawn was turning the sky to a dark, steel gray. It was warmer than it had been, with the clouds covering the land like a warming quilt. She was dead tired in the saddle as Nick plodded through the snow toward the camp, but as she came into sight of men rushing about, she came alert with the thoughts of what needed to be done.
Chandalen, Prindin, Captain Ryan and lieutenant Hobson were speaking with a group of men when they saw her riding toward the camp. The four came at a run to meet her at the edge of the activity. Men were cooking, eating, stowing gear, preparing weapons and tending to wagons and horses. She spotted Tossidin, in his white wolf mantle, off some distance with Lieutenant Sloan, waving his arms in explanation as he talked to men who stood mute, with their spears all standing upright in the snow, the tight mob of them looking like a dark porcupine against the white ground.
Kahlan gave a tired moan as she dismounted before the four men who had come to greet her. Other men all around kept to their tasks, but moved more slowly as they watched her with great interest. The four before her stared openly with wide eyes. None said a word.
"What are you all staring at?" she said, a little short tempered.
"Mother Confessor," Captain Ryan said, "You are covered in blood. Are you hurt?"
Kahlan stared down at the white wolf fur of her mantle, only it was no longer white. She realized for the first time that the skin of her face was tight with dried blood, her hair stiff with it.
"Oh," she said, in a quieter tone. "It's all right. I'm fine."
Chandalen and Prindin sighed with relief.
Lieutenant Hobson, still wide-eyed, swallowed. "What of the wizard? Did you see him?"
She lifted an eyebrow to him. "What you see on me is what is left of him."
Chandalen gave her a sly smile. "And how many others did you kill?"
Kahlan gave a tired shrug. "I was awfully busy. I didn't take the time to count, but all things considered, I would guess, including the fires, well over a hundred. The wizard is dead, that is what matters. Two of their commanders are dead also, and at least two more are wounded."
Captain Ryan and Lieutenant Hobson paled.
Chandalen's proud grin widened. "I am surprised you left any for others to kill, Mother Confessor."
She didn't return his smile. "There are plenty left." Kahlan rubbed her horse's nose. "Nick did most of the work."
"I told you he wouldn't let you down, Mother Confessor," Hobson said.
"That he did not. He was better aid than the good spirits. He kept me alive this day."
Kahlan lowered herself to one knee in the snow before the two Galean officers. She bowed her head.
"I find I must beseech your forgiveness." She took a hand of each in hers. "Though you are ignorant of how to accomplish what must be done, you have put your duty to the Midlands before my orders. That was courage of the highest order. I want you all to know I was wrong. You acted of noble intent." She kissed each hand. "I laud your righteous hearts. You have kept in mind your duty above all else. I beg you forgive me."
There was silence as she knelt on one knee. At last Captain Ryan whispered down to her.
"Mother Confessor, Please. Get up. Everyone's watching."
"Not until you forgive me. I want everyone to know you did the right thing."
"But you didn't realize what we were doing, or why. You had only our safety in mind." Kahlan waited and he was silent in embarrassment a moment longer. "All right. I forgive you... Don't do it again?"
She came to her feet, releasing their hands, and giving them a small, humorless smile. "See that that is the last time you ever disobey me."
Captain Ryan nodded in ernest. "I will." He shook his head. "I mean, no, I won't, I mean I... We will do as you command, Mother Confessor."
"I understand what you mean, Captain." She let out a tired sigh. "We have a lot of work to do before we attack those men."
"We!" Chandalen shouted. "We were only to teach them some things, and then 'we' are to be on our way to Aydindril! We cannot become caught up in this battle. You have already taken enough chances! We must..."
Kahlan interrupted him. "I must talk to you three. Bring Tossidin. Captain, please collect the men, including the sentries. I want to speak to you all together. Please wait with your men. I will be with you shortly. And leave a tent up for me. I need a few hours sleep while things are being prepared."
She walked off a ways, out of earshot of the camp, with Chandalen in tow, as Prindin went to get Tossidin. When they were all together, she turned to them. Chandalen was scowling, the other two waited without emotion.
"The Mud People," she began in a soft tone, "have magic."
"We have no magic," Chandalen argued.
"Yes, you do. You do not think of it as magic because you were born with it and it is the only way you know. You do not know of other peoples, of their ways. The Mud People can speak with th
eir ancestors' spirits. They can do this because they have magic. You think this is simply the way things work, but they do not work so in other places, with other people. Your ability to do these things is magic. Magic is not some strange and powerful force, it is simply the way some people, some creatures, are."
"Others can speak with their ancestors, if they wish," Chandalen said.
"A few can, but most cannot. To them, it is speaking with the dead, and that is magic. Frightening magic. You, and I, know it is not to be feared, but you will never convince others that what you do is good. They will always think it evil. People believe as they were raised, and they were raised to believe that talking to the dead is evil."
"But our ancestors' spirits help us," Prindin said. "They never bring harm. They only bring help."
Kahlan laid a hand on his shoulder as she looked to his worried eyes. "I know. That is why I help to keep others away from you, so you may live as you wish. There are a few other people who talk with their ancestors, as you do, and they, too, have this magic. There are other peoples, and other creatures, that have magic different from you, but just as important to them as yours is to you." She looked to each. "Do you understand."
"Yes, Mother Confessor," Tossidin said.
Prindin nodded his agreement. Chandalen grunted and folded his arms.
