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"You see? You still remember the words. You could not do that if you didn't have the gift; the magic would prevent it. Richard, if we are going to get out of this, we have to at least face the truth, and then think of what to do about it.
"My love, you have the gift. You have magic. I'm sorry, but that is the truth of it."
He let out an exasperated breath. "I guess I just so badly didn't want it to be that I have been trying to talk myself out of it. But things don't work that way. I hope you don't think me a fool. Thank you for loving me enough to make me see the truth."
"You are no fool. You are my love. We will think of something." She kissed the back of his hand and they watched the sky in silence. It was a dark, cold gray, a mirror to her mood.
"I wish you could have met my father. He was a special person. I guess even I never knew how special. I miss him." He stared off into his own thoughts. "What of your father?"
Kahlan twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. "My father was mate to my mother; mate to a Confessor. He was not a father in the way a man is a father to other children. He had been taken by her power, and there was nothing to him but his devotion to her. He paid heed to me only to please my mother, only because I was born to her. He didn't see me as myself, but only as a part of the Confessor he was bonded to."
Richard pulled a piece of long grass and flattened the end of of it between his front teeth as he thought, at last asking, "Who was he before she took him with the magic?"
"He was a Wyborn Amnell. King of Galea."
Richard pushed himself up on an elbow, looking down at her with surprise. "King! Your father was a King?"
Without realizing she was doing it, her expression slipped into the calm exterior that showed nothing: a Confessor's face.
"My father was mate to a Confessor. That was all that was in him. When my mother was dying of a terrible wasting illness, he was in a constant state of panic. One day the wizard and the healer who had been tending her came to us and said there was nothing more they could do, that the spirits would soon take her to be with them, that she would soon pass from life.
"With a wail of anguish like none I have ever heard, my father clutched his chest and fell to the floor, dead."
Richard gazed into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kahlan." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
He lay back once more and put the stalk of grass back between his teeth.
"It was a long time ago."
"So, what does that make you? Are you a princess, or a Queen, or something?"
She laughed a little at the question, at how strange all this must seem to him. He still knew little of her life, her world. "No. I am the Mother Confessor. The daughter of a Confessor is a Confessor, not the daughter of her father." She felt uncomfortable about seeming to belittle her father. It was not his fault her mother had chosen and taken him. "Do you wish to know about him?"
He shrugged. "Sure. You are part of him, too. I like knowing all about you."
She thought a moment about what his reaction would be. "Well, he was the husband to Queen Bernadine when my mother chose him as her mate."
"Your mother chose a man who was already married?"
She felt Richard's eyes on her. "It is not as it must seem to you. The marriage between him and the Queen was arranged. He was a warrior, a great commander. The marriage wedded his realm to the lands ruled by Queen Bernadine, creating the land of Galea. He did it for his people, to make a united land under a crown that could stand against hostile neighbors.
"The Queen was a wise and respected leader. She married my father for the good of Galea, not for herself. She and my father had no love for each other. He gave her, gave the people of Galea, a fine, strong daughter, Cyrilla, and a then a son, Harold."
"Then you have a half sister and brother."
She shrugged. "In a way. But not in the way you think of it. I am a Confessor, not a knot in the string of royalty. I have met both Cyrilla and Harold. They are fine people. Cyrilla is the Queen of Galea now. Her mother died a few years back. Prince Harold is the commander of the army, as was his father. They don't think of me as kin, nor I them. I am of the Confessors; of the magic."
"What about your mother? When did she come into all this?"
"She had just become the Mother Confessor at the time. She wanted a strong mate, one who would give her a daughter with strength. She had heard the Queen was not happy in her marriage, and went to speak with her. Queen Bernadine told my mother that she did not love her husband, that he was a cuckold. Even though she loved another, she respected Wyborn as a strong man, as a leader, and as a cunning warrior, and would not condone my mother taking him with her power.
"While my mother was thinking on what she would do, Wyborn caught the Queen in the bed of that lover. He nearly killed her. When my mother heard of this, she returned to Galea and solved everyone's problems before he could add the murder of the lover to the beating he had given his wife.
"Though a Confessor has many things to fear, being struck by her husband is not one of them."
"It must be hard to have to choose a mate without loving him."
She smiled and pressed her head against him. "In my whole life, I never thought I would be able to have anyone I love. I wish my mother could have known this joy."
"What was it like having him as your father?"
She folded her fingers together against her stomach. "He was as a stranger to me. He had no emotion except for my mother, no real feelings, except for devotion to my mother. She wished him to spend time with me, to teach me the things he knew, so he was overjoyed to do so, but for her sake, not mine.
"He spent time teaching me what he knew: war. He taught me the tactics of his enemies, how to steal victory from a much larger and confident force, and most importantly, how to survive, and triumph, by using your head instead of rules. My mother would sit sometimes and watch as he taught me. He would look up and ask her if he was teaching me correctly. She told him h
e was; to teach me so that I might know the skills of war he knew, in the hope I'd never need them, and if I did, so that I might survive.
"He taught me that the most important quality in a warrior is ruthlessness. He said that he prevailed many times by being ruthless. He said terror could overwhelm reason, and it was a leader's job to bring that manner of terror to the enemy.
"The things he taught me helped me survive when other Confessors died. Because of what he taught me, I was able to kill when there was need. He taught me not to be afraid of doing the things that must be done to survive.
"For the things he taught me, I loved him, and I hated him."
"Well, I love him, for teaching you to how to survive, so that you could be with me now."
Kahlan shook her head slightly as she watched a small bird chasing away a raven. "The things he knew were not the horror; those who make you do them to survive are. He never wrongly took war to others. I shouldn't fault him for knowing how to triumph when he was forced to fight a war. Richard, perhaps we should start thinking about surviving now."
"You're right," he said, slipping an arm around her. "You know, I was thinking, we are sitting here like those targets; just sitting here waiting for an arrow to come and shoot us. waiting to see what will happen to us."
"What do you think we should do?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. But if we keep sitting here, sooner or later we are going to get shot. Sooner or later the Sisters are going to come back. Why should we just wait for them to come to us? I don't have the answers, but I can't see how sitting here is going to help."
She crossed her arms under her breasts, burying her hands to get them warm. "Zedd?"
Richard nodded. "Zedd would know what to do, if anyone would. I think we need to see him."
