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Richard made her scoot aside, and at last found pens and ink in a drawer he would have opened first had she not been in the way. “You’re right, she cares greatly for me. But as to surrendering her land, well, I haven’t told her that part, yet.”
Cara’s arms unfolded. “You mean to say that you have yet to demand her surrender, as you have done tonight with the others?”
Richard wiggled the stopper from the ink bottle. “That’s one reason I must write this letter at once, to explain my plan to her. Why don’t you three be quiet, and let me write?”
Raina, a look of true concern in her dark eyes, squatted beside his chair. “What if she calls off the wedding? Queens are proud; she may not wish to do such a thing.”
A ripple of worry surged through his gut. It was worse than that. These women didn’t really understand what he was asking Kahlan to do. He was not asking a queen to surrender her land; he was asking the Mother Confessor to surrender all of the Midlands.
“She is as committed to defeating the Imperial Order as am I. She has fought with determination that would make a Mord-Sith blanch. She wishes the killing to stop as much as do I. She loves me, and will understand the benevolence of what I’m asking.”
Raina sighed. “Well, if she doesn’t, we will protect you.”
Richard fixed her with such a deadly glare that she rocked back on her heels as if he had struck her. “Don’t you ever, ever, even think of harming Kahlan. You will protect her the same as you would me, or you can leave right now and join the ranks of my enemies. You are to hold her life as dear as mine. Swear it on your bond to me. Swear it!”
Raina swallowed. “I swear it, Lord Rahl.”
He glared at the other two women. “Swear it.”
“I swear it, Lord Rahl,” they said together.
He looked to Ulic and Egan.
“I swear it, Lord Rahl,” they said as one.
He let slip his belligerent tone. “All right, then.”
Richard placed the paper on the desk before himself and tried to think. Everyone thought she was dead; this was the only way. They couldn’t let people know she was alive, or someone might try to finish what the council had thought they had accomplished. She would understand if he could just explain it properly.
Richard could feel the figure of Magda Searus, overhead, glaring down at him. He feared to look up, lest her wizard, Merritt, send down a bolt of lightning to punish him for what he was doing.
Kahlan had to believe him. She had told him once that she would die to protect him, if necessary, in order to save the Midlands, that she would do anything. Anything.
Cara sat back on her hands. “Is the queen pretty?” Her mischievous smile returned. “What does she look like? She won’t try to make us wear dresses once you’re married, will she? We’ll obey her, but Mord-Sith don’t wear dresses.”
Richard sighed inwardly. They were only trying to lighten the mood by acting mischievous. He wondered how many people these “mischievous” women had killed. He reprimanded himself; that wasn’t fair, especially coming from the bringer of death. One of them had died this very day trying to protect him. Poor Hally never had a chance against a mriswith.
Neither would Kahlan.
He had to help her. This was the only thing he could think of, and every minute that passed could be a minute too late. He had to hurry. He tried to think of what to say. He couldn’t let it out that Queen Kahlan was really the Mother Confessor. If the letter fell into the wrong hands…
Richard looked up when he heard the door squeak open. “Berdine, where do you think you’re going?”
“To find a bed of my own. We will take turns standing watch over you.” She put one hand on a hip, and with the other spun the Agiel on the chain at her wrist. “Control yourself, Lord Rahl. You will have a new bride in your bed soon enough. You can wait until then.”
Richard couldn’t help smiling. He liked Berdine’s wry sense of humor. “General Reibisch said there were a thousand men standing guard, there is no need—”
Berdine winked. “Lord Rahl, I know you like me the best, but stop thinking about my behind as I walk, and write your letter.”
Richard tapped the glass-handled pen against a tooth as the door closed.
Cara’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “Lord Rahl, do you think that the queen will be jealous of us?”
“Why should she be jealous?” he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck. “She has no reason.”
“Well, don’t you think we’re attractive?”
Richard blinked up at her. He pointed at the door. “Both of you, go stand by the doors and make sure no one can get in here to kill your Lord Rahl. If you’re quiet, like Egan and Ulic here, and let me write this letter, you may remain on this side of the door, if not, then you will guard from the other side.”
They rolled their eyes, but both had smiles as they headed across the room, apparently enjoying the fact that their nettling had finally gotten a reaction from him. He guessed Mord-Sith must be hungry for playful banter, it was something they got precious little of, but he had more important things on his mind.
Richard stared at the blank piece of paper and tried to think through the haze of weariness. Gratch put a furry paw on his leg and snuggled against his side as Richard dipped the pen in the ink bottle.
My Dearest Queen, he began with one hand, while patting the paw in his lap with the other.
15
Tobias scanned the snowy darkness as they slogged through the deepening drifts. “Are you sure you did as I instructed?”
“Yes, my lord general. I told you, they be spelled.”
Behind, the lights of the Confessors’ Palace and the surrounding buildings of the city’s center had long ago faded into the swirling snowstorm that had swept down out of the mountains while they had been inside listening to Lord Rahl deliver his absurd demands to the representatives of the Midlands.
“Then where are they? If you lose them and they freeze to death out here, I will be more than displeased with you, Lunetta.”
“I know where they be, Lord General,” she insisted. “I will not lose them.” She stopped and lifted her nose, sniffing the air. “This way.”
Tobias and Galtero looked at each other and frowned, then turned to follow her as she scurried off into the darkness behind Kings Row. Occasionally he could just make out the dark shapes of the palaces looming in the storm. They provided ghosts of lights and guidance in the directionless void of falling snow.
In the distance he could hear the passing clank of armor. It sounded like more men than a simple patrol. Before the night was out, the D’Harans would probably make a move to consolidate their grip on Aydindril. That’s what he would do if he were in their place: strike before your opponents have time to digest their options. Well, no matter, he wasn’t planning on staying.
Tobias blew the snow from his mustache. “You were listening to him, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Lord General, but I told you, I could not tell.”
“He be no different than anyone else. You must not have been paying attention. I knew you weren’t paying attention. You were scratching your arms and you weren’t paying attention.”
Lunetta cast him a quick look over her shoulder. “He be different. I do not know why, but he be different. I have never felt magic like his before. I could not tell if he be telling every word true, or every word a lie, but I think he be telling it true.” She shook her head to herself in wonder. “I can get past blocks. I always can get past blocks. Any kind: air, water, earth, fire, ice, any kind. Even spirit. But his…?”
Tobias smiled absently. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need her filthy taint to tell. He knew.
She mumbled on about the strange aspects of Lord Rahl’s magic, and how she wanted away from it, away from this place, and how it made her skin itch like never before. He only half listened. She would have her wish to be away from Aydindril after he took care of a few matters.
“What are you s
niffing at?” he growled.
“Midden, my lord general. Kitchen midden.”
Tobias gripped a fistful of her colored rags. “Midden? You left them at a midden heap?”
She grinned as she waddled along. “Yes, Lord General. You said you didn’t want people around. I not be familiar with the city, and did not know a safe place I could send them, but I saw the midden heap on our way to the Confessors’ Palace. No one will be there in the night.”
Midden heap. Tobias harrumphed. “Loony Lunetta,” he muttered.
She lost a stride. “Please Tobias, do not call me—”
“Then where are they!”
She lifted her arm, pointing, and hurried her step. “This way, Lord General. You will see. This way. Not far.”
He thought about it as he trudged through the drifts. It made sense. It did make sense; a midden heap was the perfect justice.
“Lunetta, you be telling me the truth about Lord Rahl, aren’t you? If you lie to me about this, I will never forgive you.”
She stopped and looked up at him. Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched her colored rags. “Yes, my lord general. Please. I be telling the truth. I tried everything. I tried my best.”
Tobias stared at her a long moment as a tear ran down her plump cheek. It didn’t matter; he knew.
