Blood of the Fold

Another spoke up. "And then they couldn't trade with us, and we would have no way to buy crops that won't grow in our land."

Richard leaned forward. "Then I suggest you impress these arguments on your leaders, and do your best to convince them that surrender is the only way. The sooner the better." He looked out at the other dignitaries. "As interdependent as you all are I'm sure you will soon come to realize the value of unity. Kelton is part of D'Hara, now. The trade routes will be closed to any who fail to stand with us. I told you before, there are no bystanders."

A riot of protests, appeals, and supplications filled the council chambers. Richard stood, and the voices fell to silence.

The Sanderian ambassador lifted a bony finger in accusation. "You are a ruthless man."

Richard nodded, the magic heating his glare. "Be sure to tell that to the Imperial Order, if you choose to join with them." He looked down on the other faces. "You all had peace and unity through the Council and the Mother Confessor. While she was away, fighting for you and your people, you threw that unity aside for ambition, for naked greed. You acted like children fighting over a cake. You had a chance to share it, but instead chose to try to steal it all from your smaller siblings. If you come to my table, you will have to mind your manners, but you each will have bread."

No one offered an argument this time. Richard straightened his mriswith cape on his shoulders when he realized Cathryn had finished signing and was watching him with those big brown eyes. He couldn't maintain the grip on the sword's anger in the glow of her sweet gaze.

He turned back to the representatives, the rage gone from his tone. “The weather is clear. You had best be off. The sooner you convince your leaders to agree to my terms, the less inconvenience your people will suffer. I don't want anyone to suffer…" His voice trailed off.

Cathryn stood next to him and looked down at the people she knew so well, "Do as Lord Rahl asks. He has given you enough of his time." She turned and addressed one of her aides. "Have my clothes brought over at once. I'll be staying here, at the Confessors' Palace."

"Why is she staying here," one of the ambassadors asked as his brow wrinkled in suspicion.

"Her husband, as you know, was killed by a mriswith," Richard said, "She is staying here for protection."

"You mean there is danger for us?"

"Very possibly," Richard said. "Her husband was an expert swordsman, yet he… well, I hope you will be careful. If you join with us then you are entitled to be guests of the palace, and the protection of my magic. There are plenty of empty guest rooms, but they will remain empty until you surrender."

Accompanied by worried chatter, they headed for the doors.

"Shall we go?" Cathryn asked in a breathy voice.

His task done, Richard felt the sudden emptiness being filled with her presence. As she took his arm and they started away, he summoned the last shred of his will to stop at the end of the dais, where Ulic and Cara were standing.

"Keep us in sight at all times. Understand?"

"Yes, Lord Rahl," Ulic and Cara said as one.

Cathryn tugged on his arm, urging his ear close. "Richard." Her warm breath carrying his name sent a shudder of longing through him. "You said we would be alone. I want to be alone with you. Very alone. Please?"

It was from this moment that Richard had borrowed strength. He could no longer hold the image of the sword in his mind. In desperation, he put Kahlan's face there in its stead.

“There is danger about, Cathryn. I can sense it. I won't risk your life carelessly.

When I don't feel the danger, then we can be alone. Please try to understand, for now."

She looked distraught, but nodded. "For now."

As they stepped off the platform, Richard's gaze snagged on Cara's. "Don't let us out of your sight for anything."

CHAPTER 24

Phoebe plopped down the reports in a narrow vacant spot on the polished walnut table. "Verna, may I ask you a personal question?"

Verna scrawled her initials across the bottom of a report from the kitchens requesting replacements for the large cauldrons that had burned through. "We've been friends for a good long time, Phoebe; you may ask me anything you wish." She again scrutinized the request, and then above her initials she wrote a note denying permission and telling them to instead have the cauldrons repaired. Vema reminded herself to show a smile. "Ask."

Phoebe's round cheeks flushed as she twisted her fingers together. "Well, I mean no offense, but you're in a unique position, and I could never ask anyone else but a friend like you." She cleared her throat. "What's it like to get old?"

Vema snorted a laugh. "We're the same age, Phoebe."