Faith of the Fallen tsot-6

by Terry Goodkind

  Kahlan took the pins from her mouth. “Who?”

  “Who what?” Cara mumbled before she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth while wiggling a pin into a tight place.

  “Who did you say got you the ribbon?”

  Cara lifted another length of blue silk to the ceiling. “General Meiffert. I don’t have a clue where he—”

  “You said Benjamin.”

  Cara lowered the ribbon and stared at Kahlan. “No I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. You said Benjamin.”

  “I said General Meiffert. You only thought—”

  “I never knew that General Meiffert’s first name was Benjamin.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Is ‘Benjamin’ General Meiffert’s first name?”

  Had Cara been wearing her red leather, her face would have matched it.

  As it was, her dark scowl matched the brown leather she had on.

  “You know it is.”

  A smile grew on Kahlan’s lips. “I do now.”

  Kahlan wore her white Mother Confessor’s dress. She was a bit surprised to notice that it fit a little loosely, but all things considered, she supposed it was to be expected. Because of the cold, she also wore the wolf fur mantle Richard had made for her, but draped it around her shoulders more like a stole. She stood with her back straight and chin held high, overseeing the ceremony and gazing out at the tens of thousands of quiet faces. Behind her was a rich verdant wall of woven boughs that enabled distant spectators to more easily pick out the six people up on the platform. An ethereal mist of silent breath lifted in the still, golden, late-afternoon air.

  As he conducted the wedding ceremony, Zedd’s back was to her. Kahlan was fascinated to see his wavy white hair, perpetually in disarray, now brushed and smoothed down. He wore his fine maroon robes with black sleeves and cowled shoulders. Silver brocade circled the cuffs, while gold brocade ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold buckle gathered the outfit at his waist. Adie stood beside him, wearing her simple sorceress’s robes with their yellow and red beads at the neckline.

  Somehow, the contrast looked as grand.

  Verna wore a rich violet dress done up with gold stitching at the square neckline.

  The intricate gold needlework ran down the tight sleeves showing under slashed sham sleeves tied at the elbow with gold ribbon. The delicate smocking over the midriff extending in a funnel shape down into a gored skirt flaring nearly to the floor. Verna’s wavy brown hair was festooned with blue, gold, and crimson flowers the sisters had made from little pieces of silk. With her serene smile, she made a beautiful sorceress bride standing beside the handsome blond groom in his violet wizard’s robes.

  Everyone seemed to lean in a little as the ceremony reached the climax.

  “Do you, Verna, take this wizard to be your husband for life,” Zedd went on in a clear tone that carried out over the crowd, “mindful of his gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor him without pause for as long as you live?”

  “I do,” Verna said in a silken voice.

  “Do you, Warren,” Adie said, her voice all the more raspy in contrast to Verna’s, “take this sorceress to be your wife for life, mindful of her gift and duty to it, and swear to both love and honor her without pause for as long as you live?”

  “I do,” Warren said in a confident tone.

  “Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, sorceress, as being agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union.” Zedd raised outstretched arms up into the air. “I ask the good spirits to smile on this woman’s oath.”

  “Then, it being of your free will, I accept you, wizard, as being agreeable and give my joyful blessing to this union.” Adie raised outstretched arms up into the air. “I ask the good spirits to smile on this man’s oath.”

  The four of them crossed their arms and joined hands. With heads bowed, the air in the center of their circle glowed with a living light shining on the union. The brilliant flare sent a golden ray skyward, as if carrying the oath to the good spirits.

  Together, Zedd and Adie said, “From this time forward, you are forever joined as husband and wife, both by oath, by love, and now by gift.”

  The magical light dissolved from the bottom up until it was but a solitary star directly above them in an empty, late-afternoon sky.

  In the silent winter air tens of thousands of spellbound eyes watched a trembling Verna meet Warren’s kiss to seal a wedding unlike any they were likely to ever see again: the marriage of a sorceress and a wizard, bound by more than any mere oath—bound also by a covenant of magic.

  When Verna and Warren parted, both wearing broad smiles, the crowd went wild. Cheers, along with hats, rose into the air.

  Both beaming, Verna and Warren joined hands after they turned to the soldiers. They waved with their free arms high in the air. Soldiers cheered, applauded, and whistled as if it were their own sister or best friend who was just married.

  The voices of the choir then built in an extended note that reverberated through the trees all around. It made Kahlan’s skin tingle with the quality of its haunting tone. The sound brought a reverent hush to the valley.

  Cara leaned close to Kahlan and whispered in astonishment that the choir was singing an ancient D’Haran wedding ceremonial song, the origin of which went back thousands of years. Since the men had gone off to practice alone, Kahlan hadn’t heard it before the wedding. It was so powerful it swept her emotions away with the rise and fall of the joined voices. Verna and Warren stood on the edge of the platform, likewise gripped by the achingly beautiful song to their union.

  Flutes joined in, and then drums. The soldiers, mostly D’Haran, smiled as they listened to the music they knew well. It struck Kahlan then, since she had so long thought of D’Hara as an enemy land, that she had never really thought of D’Harans as having traditions that could be meaningful, or stirring, or beloved.

  Kahlan glanced over at Cara, standing beside her, smiling distantly as she listened to the music. There was an entire land of D’Hara that was largely a mystery to Kahlan; she had only seen their soldiers. She knew nothing of their women—other than the Mord-Sith, and they were hardly typical—or their children, or their homes, or their customs. She had come to think of them as joined together at last, but she now realized that they were a people she didn’t know, a people with their own heritage.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kahlan whispered to Cara.

  Cara nodded blissfully, carried away on the strains of music that was an old acquaintance to her, and a exotic wonder to Kahlan.

  As the choir came to the end of their tribute to the newly wedded couple, Verna reached back and squeezed Kahlan’s hand. It was an apology of sorts—an acknowledgment of how difficult this ceremony must be for Kahlan.

  Refusing to let that hurt tarnish this joyous event, Kahlan beamed at Verna’s quick glance. She came forward, standing behind Warren and Verna with an arm around each. The noise of the crowd trailed off so Kahlan could speak.

  “These two people belong together. Perhaps they always have. Now they forever shall be. May the good spirits be with them always.”

  With one voice, the entire crowd repeated the prayer.

  “I want to thank Verna and Warren from the bottom of my heart,” Kahlan said as she gazed out at the tens of thousands of faces watching, “for reminding us what life is really about. There is no more eloquent demonstration of the simple yet deep meaning of our cause than this wedding today.”

  Heads as far as she could see bobbed in agreement.

  “Now,” Kahlan called out, “who wants to see these two have the first dance?”

  The men cheered and hooted as they spread back to open up the central area. Musicians lined up along the benches at the sides.

  As they waited for Verna and Warren to make their way down to the dance area, Kahlan draped an arm over Zedd’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

  “This is the best idea you ever h
ad, wizard.”

  He took her in with hazel eyes that seemed to see all the way to a person’s soul.

  “Are you all right, dear one? I know this has to be hard.”

  Kahlan nodded, holding her grin firmly in place. “I’m fine. It has to be hard on you, twice over.”

  A smile took him unexpectedly. “There you go again, Mother Confessor. Worrying about others.”

  Kahlan watched a laughing Verna and Warren, arm in arm, dancing lightly across the open area ringed by applauding soldiers.

  “When they’re done,” Kahlan asked, “and after you’ve given your first to Adie, would you dance with me, sir? Stand in for him? I’m sure he would want that.”

  Kahlan couldn’t bring herself to say his name at that moment, or the spell of the joyful celebration would have been broken.

  Zedd lifted an eyebrow with playful delight. “What makes you think I can dance?”

  Kahlan laughed. “Because there isn’t anything you can’t do.”

  “I be able to name a number of things this skinny old man can’t do,” Adie said with a smile as she shuffled up behind him.

  When the dance was done, and others began joining in as the newly married couple began the second, Zedd and Adie went out in the ring to have a dance and show the young people how it was done. Kahlan stood at the edge of the circle with Cara close at her side. General Meiffert, laughing and shaking men’s hands, slapping others on the back, made his way over.

  “Mother Confessor!” He was pushed up close by the press of the crowd. “Mother Confessor, this is a wonderful day, isn’t it? Have you ever seen the likes of it?”

  Kahlan couldn’t help but to smile at his delight. “No, General Meiffert, I don’t think I have.”

  He glanced briefly at Cara. He stood awkwardly a moment, then turned to watch the dancing. Despite how well the men had come to know her, Kahlan was still a Confessor—a woman people feared to be near, much less touch. No one was likely to ask a Confessor to dance.

  Or a Mord-Sith.

  “General?” Kahlan asked, tapping him on the back of his shoulder. “General, could you do me a great personal favor?”

  “Well, of course, Mother Confessor,” he stammered. “Anything. What is it I can do?”

  Kahlan gestured out at the dance area and the soldiers and Sisters ringing it. “Would you please dance? I know we’re supposed to be on guard for any mischief, but I think it would let the men see the true festive nature of this party, were their general to go out there and dance.”

  “Dance?”

  “Yes. Please?”

  “But, I—that is, I don’t know who . . .”

  “Oh, do please stop trying to get out of it.” Kahlan turned, as if suddenly struck with a thought. “Cara. Would you go out there with him and dance so his men will see that it’s all right to join in?”

  Cara’s blue eyes shifted between Kahlan and the general. “Well, I don’t see how—”

  “Do it for me? Please, Cara?” Kahlan turned back to the general. “I believe I heard someone mention that your given name is Benjamin?”

  He scratched his temple. “That’s right, Mother Confessor.”

  Kahlan turned back to Cara. “Cara, Benjamin, here, needs a—partner for a dance. How about you? Please? Do it for me?”

  Cara cleared her throat. “Well, all right. For you, then, Mother Confessor.”

  “And don’t break his ribs, or anything. We have need of his talents.”

  Cara scowled back over her shoulder as a smiling Benjamin led her away.

  Kahlan folded her arms and grinned as she watched the man take Cara in his arms. It was just about a perfect day. Just about.

  Kahlan was watching Benjamin gracefully swirl Cara around, and other soldiers pulling suddenly shy Sisters out of the line at the edge of the dance area, when Captain Ryan stumbled up.

  He straightened before her. “Mother Confessor . . . uh, well, we’ve been through a lot together and, if I’m not being too forward, could I ask you to . . . you know, dance?”

  Kahlan blinked in surprise at the tall, young, broad Galean.

  “Why, yes, Bradley, I would love to dance with you. I would love it. But only if you promise not to hold me like I’m made of glass. I don’t want to look foolish out there.”

  He grinned and nodded. “All right.”

  She placed one hand in his, and laid the other over his shoulder. He put his big hand to the side of her waist, under her open fur mantle, and twirled her out amid the merrymakers. Kahlan smiled and laughed as she endured it. She thought of Spirit, and willed herself to remember that kind of strength, and she was able to relax, and take the party for what it was, and not think about what was missing as another man held her in his arms, if timidly.

  “Bradley, you’re a wonderful dancer.”

  Pride shined in his eyes. She felt him loosen up, and let the music flow more smoothly through his movements. Kahlan caught sight of Cara and Benjamin, not far away, doing their best to dance and not look at each other. When he whirled her around him, his arm securely holding her waist, Cara’s long blond braid sailed out behind her. Then Kahlan actually saw Cara look up into Benjamin’s blue eyes and smile.

  Kahlan was relieved when the song ended and Captain Ryan was replaced for the next dance by Zedd. She held him close as she moved to a slower tune with him.

  “I’m proud of you, Mother Confessor. You gave a wonderful thing to these men.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Your heart.” He tilted his head. “See them watching you? You’ve given them courage. You’ve given them a reason to believe in what they’re doing.”

  Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. “You trickster, you. You may fool others, but not me. It is you who has given me heart.”

  Zedd only smiled. “You know, not since the very first Confessor has a man ever again figured out how to love such a woman without her power destroying him. I’m glad it was my grandson who accomplished such an exploit, and that it was for his love of you. I love you as a granddaughter, Kahlan, and look forward to the day when you are back with my grandson.”

  Kahlan held Zedd close, resting her head against his shoulder, as they both danced on with their memories.

  As the dancing went on, the golden setting sun was finally replaced by torches and warm fires. Sisters changed partners after each dance, and still there were jovial men lined up out of sight waiting a turn, and not just with the younger, more attractive Sisters. Cooks’ helpers set out simple fare on food tables, sampling some and joking with the soldiers as they went about their task. Between dances, Warren and Verna tried the variety of food from different tables.

  Kahlan danced once more with Captain Ryan, and once more with Zedd, but then busied herself speaking to officers and soldiers alike so she wouldn’t have to dance with anyone, should anyone feel awkward about asking her, yet work up the nerve. She was more able to enjoy the festivities without having to dance.

  As she was greeting a line of young officers, and they were telling her how much they appreciated the party, someone tapped Kahlan on the shoulder.

  She turned to a smiling Warren.

  “Mother Confessor, I would be honored were you to have a dance with me.”

  Kahlan noticed Verna dancing with Zedd. This was one dance that would be different. “Warren, I would love to dance with the handsome groom.”

  He moved smoothly with her, not at all haltingly as she had expected.

  He seemed to be blissfully at peace, and not nervous about the crush of people or the men constantly clapping him on the back, or the joking remarks from some of the Sisters.

  “Mother Confessor, I just wanted to thank you for making this the best day I’ve ever had.”

  Kahlan smiled up into his young face, his ageless eyes. “Warren, thank you for agreeing to this big party. I know it’s not the sort of thing that fits you—”

  “Oh, but it is. That’s just it. People used to call me the mole.”

  “The
y did? Why?”

  “Because I used to stay down in the vaults all the time studying the prophecies. It wasn’t just that I liked to study the books—I was afraid to come out.”

  “But you finally did.”

  He turned her in time with the sweep of music. “Richard brought me out.”

  “He did? I never knew that.”

  “In a way, you’ve helped add to what he started.” Warren smiled distantly. “I just wanted to thank you. I know how much I miss him, and how much Verna misses him. I know the men miss their Lord Rahl.”

  Kahlan was only able to nod.

  “And I know how much you miss your husband. That’s why I wanted to thank you—for giving us this, and the gift of your grace, despite your heartache. Everyone here feels it with you. Please know that while you miss him, you are not alone, and are among those who love him too.”

  Kahlan smiled, and managed to get out a “Thank you.”

  As they danced across the open area, laughing at the merry tune and the awkward steps of some of the soldiers, the music abruptly trailed off.

  It was then that she heard the horns.

  Alarm swept through the assembled soldiers, as men ran for their weapons, until one of the sentries sprinted in, waving his arm, calling out for everyone to stand down, that it was friendly forces.

  Puzzled, Kahlan stretched her neck along with everyone else, trying to see. They had no forces out. She had let them all be present to enjoy the wedding party.

  The crowd parted as horses trotted through the throng. Kahlan’s eyebrows went up, and her jaw dropped. The distinguished General Baldwin, commander of all Keltish forces, was at the fore, riding a handsome chestnut gelding. He brought the horse to a smart halt. He ran his first finger along the length of his white-flecked dark mustache as he took in the crowd gathered in around him. His graying black hair grew down over his ears, and his pate shone through on top. He was a striking figure in his serge cape fastened on one shoulder with two buttons, allowing it to show the rich green silk lining. His tan surcoat was decorated with a heraldic emblem slashed through with a diagonal black line dividing a yellow and blue shield. The man’s high boots were rolled down below his knees. Long black gauntlets, their flared cuffs lying over the front, were tucked behind a wide belt set with an ornate buckle.