2 - Stone of Tears

by Goodkind, Terry

  'In a way. I lead the Council of the Midlands. I represent all the people and protect their rights. I make it possible for those like the Mud People to live as they wish.'

  'We protect ourselves.'

  She gave him a sober nod. 'You think so? For every one of the Mud People, there were five Jocopo. Your grandfather was brave, and defeated an enemy that outnumbered him. But for every man, woman, and child of the Mud People, there are over a hundred dead soldiers here, and this is only one city of this land. They were defeated as if they were nothing. One hundred fighting men for every Mud Person, and they fought bravely, you said so. What chance do you think you would have against an army that could defeat this many? Against an army half that size?'

  Chandalen shifted his weight without answering.

  There are lands, Chandalen, that have no say, like the Mud People, and the Bantak. They are not represented on the council. The larger lands, like this one, and the one that defeated them, are very powerful, yet Darken Rahl conquered them. I speak for the lands that have no voice on the council. I protect your wish to be left alone, and forbid others to come onto your land.

  'Without me to make them afraid, and tell them what to do, they would take your land for themselves. You have seen the country we have traveled through. Much of it is difficult to plant. People would take your land for farms, and to raise animals. Your sacred grasslands would be burned and tilled and planted with crops to trade for gold.

  'As brave and strong as you are, you would not be able to protect your people. These outsiders would blacken your land with their numbers. Just because you are brave, and strong, does not mean you will win. The soldiers here were brave, and strong, and a hundred times your number, and look what happened to them. And this is only one city. There are many larger.

  'Being brave does not mean you have to be stupid, Chandalen. You saw what was done here. How long do you think you could fight against an army like that which did this? Even if every one of your men killed fifty, they would hardly notice. You would be like the Jocopo, gone. Every last one of you.'

  Kahlan jabbed a finger at her own chest. 'I am the one who tells them they may not. They do not fear you, but they fear me, and the alliance I represent. There are good people in the Midlands, people who are willing to fight to protect others who are less powerful. The dead here are one of those peoples. They are one that has always backed me when I said no land may attack another to gain land.

  'I head the Council of the Midlands and hold together the lands that want peace. Under me they would fight any who would make war on others. Yes, I make people afraid, so they will do what I say. But not to have the glory of power. I hold power to keep the people of the Midlands - including the Mud People - free of oppression. These people here have fought before to keep all the people of the Midlands free to live as they wished. They have fought for you, for your rights, though you have never known of the blood they have shed on your behalf.'

  She clutched her mantle more tightly. 'You have never before had to fight for them, until Darken Rahl threatened all. I came to the Mud People, with Richard, to seek help. Your ancestors' spirits saw the truth of our struggle, and they helped us so that the Mud People, and all others, could live free. For the first time, Mud People had to shed blood for the Midlands. Your ancestors' spirits saw the truth of this, and they helped us.

  'The people of the Midlands owe the Mud People a debt for their sacrifice, but you also owe them.

  'Richard With The Temper put his life at risk for your people. He lost loved ones in the struggle, the same as you. He suffered things you could never understand. You could not imagine what was done to him by Darken Rahl before Richard killed him.'

  Kahlan stood in fury, clouds of her hot breath rising into the cold air.

  'I make people afraid of me so you may continue to be blind and stubborn. Richard and I have fought to keep all the people of the Midlands, including the Mud People, from being murdered, as the Jocopo murdered Mud People, even though you would deny us your help, or simple gratitude.'

  Silence echoed around them.

  Chandalen walked slowly to the railing, idly running a finger along its polished surface. She watched each slow cloud of his breath dissipate, to be followed by another. He spoke softly. 'You see me as stubborn. I see you, too, as stubborn. Maybe our fathers should have also taught us to see that sometimes people do as they do, not because they are stubborn, but because they fear for those they protect. Maybe you and I should be able to see each other not as harsh, but as doing the best we know, to keep our people safe.'

  A small smile came unexpectedly to Kahlan's lips. 'Perhaps, Chandalen is not so blind as I thought. I will try, myself, to see better, see you for the man of honor you are.'

  He gave a nod, and a small smile of his own. 'Richard With The Temper is not a stupid man.' He put his hands to the railing, looking out over the first floor. 'He said that if he had to pick one man to fight beside him, he would pick Chandalen.'

  'You speak the truth,' she said softly. 'He is not a stupid man.'

  'Richard also sacrificed himself as your mate. He has saved our men from being chosen, as surely you would have picked one of us, because we are so strong.' His voice rose with pride. 'You would probably have picked me, so that you might have the strongest mate. Richard has saved me.'

  Kahlan smiled again in spite of herself as he stared out over the railing. 'I'm sorry you feel the task of being my mate is so onerous a thing.'

  Chandalen came back to her. He stood a moment, studying her eyes, and then began untying the band at his right arm. He pulled the band and bone knife free, holding it out before her.

  'Grandfather would be proud to protect you, one of his own, one of his Mud People.' He flipped her mantle back over her left shoulder.

  'Chandalen, I cannot accept this. It holds the spirit of your grandfather.'

  He ignored her words and tied the band to her left arm. 'I have the spirit of my father with me, and I am strong. You fight to protect our people. Grandfather would want to be with you in your fight. You do him an honor.'

  She held her chin up as he slipped the bone knife into the band. 'I'm honored, then, to have your grandfather's spirit with me.'

  'This is good. You have the duty now to fight as my grandfather fought to protect your people. All of your people.' He lifted her right hand and placed it on the bone knife. 'Swear to carry this duty in your heart.'

  'I have already sworn to protect the Mud People, and the others of the Midlands. I have already fought and will continue to fight for all of you.'

  He squeezed her hand tighter to the bone. 'Swear to Chandalen.'

  She studied his grim expression a long moment. 'You have my vow, Chandalen. I swear it before you.'

  He smiled as he pulled her mantle back over her shoulder, over the bone knife. 'Chandalen will thank Richard With The Temper, when I see him again, for saving me from being chosen as the mate to the Mother Confessor. I will wish him no bad fortune. He fights, too, for the Mud People, as the Bird Man has told us.'

  Kahlan bent to pick up his mantle. 'Here. Put this back on, I don't want you to freeze. You must still get me to Aydindril.'

  He nodded, still wearing the small, tight smile, as he threw the mantle over his shoulders. His smile died as he glanced at the doors. 'Someone has been here since this was done.'

  Kahlan frowned. 'What makes you think that?'

  'Why did you close the doors after you had looked?'

  'Out of respect for the dead.'

  'When we came to them, they were closed. Those who did this rape had no respect. They would not have closed all the doors. They wanted anyone who came to see what they had done. Someone else has been here, and closed the doors.'

  Kahlan glanced to the doors, seeing the meaning of what he said. 'I think you're right.' She shook her head. Those who did this would not have closed the door.'

  Chandalen leaned on the railing again, looking down at the wide stairs. 'Why are we he
re?'

  'Because I had to know what happened to these people.'

  'You saw that outside. Why are we here, in this house?'

  Kahlan glanced at the steps leading up to the top floor. 'Because I have to know if the queen was killed, too.'

  He looked over his shoulder toward her. 'She means something to you?'

  Kahlan was suddenly aware of the pounding of her heart. 'Yes. Do you remember the statues near the door we entered?'

  'A woman, and a man.'

  She nodded. The statue of the woman is a statue of her mother. My mother was a Confessor. The statue of the man is a statue of her father. King Wyborn. He was also my father.'

  Chandalen lifted an eyebrow. 'You are sister to this queen?'

  'Half sister.' Summoning courage, she started for the stairs. 'Let's see if she is here, and then we can be on our way to Aydindril.'

  Kahlan's heart was still pounding as she stood before the door to the queen's chambers. She couldn't bring herself to open it. It smelled dreadful in the hall, but she hardly noticed.

  'Do you wish me to look for you?'

  'No,' she said. 'I must see with my own eyes.'

  She turned the knob. The door was locked, the key still in place. She touched the icy metal plate. This is a lock, the thing I told you of before,' she lectured as she pulled the key out and held it up. This is a key.' Replacing the key, she twisted it with shaking fingers. 'If you have a key, you can open the lock, and then the door.'

  Someone had obviously locked the door, out of respect for the queen.

  The windows were intact, as was the furniture. The room was as freezing cold as the rest of the palace, but the smell made them suddenly gag and hold their breath.

  Human excrement covered everything in the outer sitting room. The two of them stared in shock. Dark piles dotted the carpets and sat on the desk and table. The blue velvet chairs and couches were soaked with yellow, frozen urine. Someone had even squatted neatly in the fireplace.

  Holding their mantles across their noses, they stepped carefully across the room to the next closed door. The queen's bedchamber was worse. There was hardly a place to put a foot without stepping in it. But as covered as the floor was, the worst was the bed; it was heaped with feces. Delicately painted floral scenes on the walls were smeared with it. If everything hadn't been frozen solid, they would have been driven from the room by the stench. As it was, it was barely tolerable.

  Thankfully, there were no bodies. The queen was not here.

  The names on Kahlan's mental roster of who could have done all this fell away, and only one nation was left. The ones who had been at the top, before.

  'Keltans,' she hissed to herself.

  Chandalen was dumbfounded. 'Why would these men do this? Are they children who do not know better?'

  After a last look around, Kahlan led them back out into the hall, locking the door once more, at last taking a full breath. 'It's a message. It's meant to show their disrespect for the people who lived here. It says that they have nothing but scorn for these people, and anything that's theirs. They've soiled their foe's honor in every way they could think of.'

  'At least your half sister is not here.'

  Kahlan snugged the thongs of her mantle tight at her neck. 'At least there is that.'

  She descended the steps, pausing to look once more at the closed doors on the second floor. Chandalen watched her after he, too, glanced to the row of doors.

  She sought to fill the silence. 'We must go and find Prindin and Tossidin.'

  His face was lined with ire. 'Does this not make you angry?'

  She realized only then that she was wearing her Confessor's face. 'It would do no good for me to show my anger right now. When the time is right, you will know just how angry I am.'

  CHAPTER 30

  In a cramped daub and wattle house next to the hole in the city's wall, Kahlan watched as Chandalen built a small fire for her in the central pit. The two brothers were nowhere to be seen.

  'Warm yourself,' he said. 'I will see if Prindin and Tossidin are close, and tell them where we wait.'

  After he had left, she drew off her mantle, even though she knew it wasn't a good idea to get too used to the warmth because it would only make the cold seem worse later. Drawn by the lure of the fire, she squatted close, rubbing her hands together over the flames, shivering as the warmth seeped into her bones.

  The small room was one of only two that had been a large part of some family's world. The table was broken but the crude bench sitting against the wall was not. A few pieces of clothing were scattered about, along with bent tin plates and a broken spinning wheel. Three bobbins were crushed into the dirt floor.

  Kahlan retrieved a dented pot from among the rubble, deciding it was easier to use it than to unpack one of their own. She heaped it full of snow from outside the door, placed the pot on three stones in the fire, then warmed her icy fingers again, finally pressing them against the cold flesh of her face. There was tea in a crushed canister in the corner, but she instead pulled her own from her pack while she waited for the snow to melt, and the men to return.

  Try as she might, she couldn't get the faces of the dead young women out of her mind.

  Several times, she added snow as that in the pot melted down. As the water was just starting to bubble, Prindin came through the door. He leaned his bow against the wall and with a sigh slumped down heavily on the bench.

  Kahlan stood and glanced to the empty doorway. 'Where's your brother?'

  'He should be here soon. We took different ways back, to be able to look at more tracks.' He craned his neck, looking through the doorway into the second room. 'Where is Chandalen?'

  'He went to find you and Tossidin.'

  Then he will be back soon. My brother is not far.'

  'What did you find?'

  'More dead people.'

  He didn't seem to want to talk about it at the moment, so she decided to wait until Chandalen returned with Tossidin before questioning him.

  'I was just warming water. We'll have some hot tea.'

  He nodded, flashing her his handsome smile. 'It would be good to have hot tea.'

  Kahlan bent over the pot, shaking tea from a leather pouch with one hand, and holding her long hair back from her face with the other.

  'You have a fine-looking bottom,' came his voice from behind.

  She straightened and turned to him. 'What did you say?'

  Prindin pointed toward her middle. 'I said you have a fine-looking bottom. It is a good shape.'

  Kahlan had learned not to be startled or insulted by the strange customs of different peoples of the Midlands. Among the Mud People, for example, a man complimenting a woman on her breasts was the same as saying she looked to be capable of being a fit and healthy mother, able to nurse her future children. It was a compliment that brought smiles of pride from the flattered woman's family, and was a sure way for a suitor to make friends with her father. At the same time, asking to see a woman with the sticky mud washed from her hair was likely as not to raise drawn bows - it was tantamount to asking the young woman for improper favors.

  The Mud People treated matters of sex in an especially casual manner. Kahlan had more than once been brought to blushing by Weselan's unexpected and cavalier descriptions of coupling with her husband. Worse, she was as likely as not to do it in his presence.

  As she stared at Prindin, the visions of the young women's faces, too, floated before her eyes.

  Though Prindin had not complimented her on her breasts, it seemed to her that a woman's hips could be construed to carry the same maternal compliment. She knew he meant no disrespect, but still, his beaming smile made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Maybe it was just the inappropriate timing, with the dead all about, that unnerved her. But he hadn't seen the dead young women.

  Prindin's smile faded only a little as a frown came to his brow. 'You look surprised. Doesn't Richard With The Temper ever tell you how fine your bottom is?'

&
nbsp; Kahlan fumbled for words, not sure how to bring this to an honorable halt. 'He has never mentioned it, specifically.'

  'Other men must have told you this before. It is too fine for them not to notice. The shape of your body is very good to look at. It fills me with desire to ...' He frowned in puzzlement. 'I don't know your word for ...'

  Blood went to her face in a red rush as she took a step toward him. 'Prindin!' She relaxed her fists and brought her voice back in check. 'Prindin. I am the Mother Confessor.'

  He nodded, his grin returning, but not quite as confident. 'Yes, but you are a woman, too, and your shape ...'

  'Prindin!' He blinked at her as she ground her teeth. 'In your land it may be proper to speak to a woman in this fashion, but in other places in the Midlands, it is not. In other places, speaking in this manner is offensive. Very offensive. More than that, I'm the Mother Confessor, and it's not proper to speak to me in this way.'