Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Johnrock pulled off a strip of meat. "Well, you didn't do so good today."

"We won by five points."

Johnrock looked up from under his thick brow. "But we used to win by more."

"The competition is getting tougher."

Johnrock shrugged with one shoulder. "If you say so, Ruben." He Thought it over a moment, clearly not satisfied. "But we won by more points against that one big team . . . back a few days. Remember? The ones who called us names and started the fight with Bruce before the game even started."

Richard remembered the team. Bruce was the new left wing man, replacing the original man, who had been killed during the game Jagang and Kahlan had been at. Richard had at first worried that a regular Imperial Order soldier would not do as well serving under a captive point man, but Bruce had risen to the occasion.

On the day Johnrock was talking about, the other team's wing man had called the regular soldiers on Richard's team names for serving under a captive. Bruce had answered the insults by calmly walking over and breaking the man's arm. The fight that ensued had been ugly but it had been quickly broken up by the referee.

"I remember. What of it?"

"I think they were tougher than the team today and we beat them by eleven points."

"We won today's match. That's what matters."

"But you told us how we must crush all opposition if we are to get to play the emperor's team."

Richard took a deep breath. "You all did good, Johnrock. I guess I just let everyone down."

"No, Ruben-you haven't let us down." Johnrock grunted a laugh and smacked the side of Richard's shoulder with the back of his big hand. "Like you say, we won. If we win tomorrow then we play the emperor's team."

If nothing else, Richard was counting on Jagang at least showing up to watch his own team play for the camp championship. Surely, he would never miss seeing that game.

Commander Karg had told Richard that the emperor was well aware of their team's growing reputation. Richard worried about why Jagang hadn't come to see for himself. Richard had thought that the man would want to size up the likely challengers to his team and so would attend at least the last few games before the final match.

"Don't worry, Johnrock. We're going to beat that team tomorrow and then we're going to get to play the emperor's team."

Johnrock shot Richard a lopsided grin. "And then, when we win, we get our choice of a woman. Snake-face promised us."

Richard chewed ham as he watched the man covered in designs meant to increase strength and power intertwined with symbols of aggression and conquest.

"There are more important things than that."

"Maybe so, but what other rewards are there for us in life?" Johnrock's grin returned. "If we win against the emperor's team, we get a woman."

"Have you ever thought that your reward might be nothing but a terrifying nightmare for the woman you choose?"

Johnrock frowned, staring at Richard a moment. In silence, he went back to eating ham.

"Why would you say that?" Johnrock finally asked, unable to contain his annoyance. "I wouldn't hurt a woman."

Richard glanced over at the man's sour expression. "What do you think of the camp followers?"

"The camp followers?" Johnrock, surprised by the question, scratched his shoulder as he considered. "Most of them are ugly old hags."

"Well, if you aren't interested in them, then that leaves the captive women, the women taken from their homes, their families, their husbands, their children, everything they ever loved. The ones forced to serve as whores for soldiers who very likely were the same ones who slaughtered those fathers, husbands, and children."

"Well, I. .."

"The women we often hear crying out at night. The ones we hear weeping."

Johnrock's gaze fell away. He picked at his piece of ham. "It keeps me awake, sometimes, listening to the sounds of those women sobbing."

Richard looked out between the wagons and guards at the camp beyond. In the distance the work on the ramp continued. He imagined that the people up in the People's Palace, the last holdout against the Imperial Order, could do nothing but wait for the horde to come. There was nothing they could do. There was nowhere safe left for them to go. The beliefs driving the Imperial Order were swallowing all of mankind.

Down in the encampment knots of men were gathering around cook fires. Among the shadows and gloom Richard could see a woman being dragged to a tent. She'd once had her own dreams and hope for her future; now that the Order was prescribing their vision for mankind, she was merely chattel. Already men were lining up outside, the victors waiting for their reward in return for serving the Imperial Order. Ultimately, despite all the grand pretensions, this was all that it was really about: the lust of some to rule over all others, to impose their will, the pretension of a moral licence that they believed gave them the right to take, by any means, what they wanted.