Faith of the Fallen

He nodded. "I know it felt pretty good, tonight, Mother Confessor, when I saw you on the back of Cara's horse, returning safely to camp. I look forward to the day when I see Lord Rahl ride into camp, too." He started away. "Sleep well. Dawn is in a couple of hours. Then we'll find out what the new day will bring. I'll have reports ready for you."

-]--

Inside her tent, Zedd was sitting alone, waiting. Kahlan groaned inwardly.

She was dead tired and didn't want to face the old wizard's questioning. Sometimes, especially if you were tired, his nettling questions could become irksome. She knew he meant well, but she was in no mood for it.

She didn't think she could even be civil to him if he started down his road of a thousand questions. It was so late, and she was so tired, she simply wished he would let her be.

She stood just inside, saying nothing, watching him as he rose to his feet. His wavy white hair was more disorderly than usual. His heavy robes were filthy and spattered with blood. Around his knees the robes were dark with dried blood.

He gave her a long look, and then enclosed her in his skinny arms. She just wanted to sleep. He silently held her head to his shoulder. Maybe he thought she might be about to start crying, but there seemed no tears left.

She felt numb. She supposed it was the constant rage, but she just couldn't cry anymore. She seemed only able to feel anger.

Zedd finally held her out at arm's length, squeezing her shoulders in his surprisingly strong fingers. "I just wanted to wait until you were back, and safe, before I went to bed. I wanted to let my eyes take you in." He smiled in a sad way. "I'm so very relieved you're safe. Sleep well, Kahlan."

Her bedroll, still tied up with its leather thongs, lay atop a pallet with a strawfilled mattress. Saddlebags were draped over her pack, sitting in the corner. Opposite the bed there was a small folding table and chair.

Beside them, a basket with rolls of maps. Another little folding table held a ewer and basin. A clean towel was draped over the table legs' stretcher bar.

The tent was spacious, by army standards, but it was still cramped. The canvas looked heavy enough to keep out most any weather. Lamps, hanging at each end of the tent from a rod forming the peak of the roof, cast a warm glow inside the snug tent. Kahlan tried to imagine the burly General Reibisch pacing in such a small space, tugging his rust-colored beard, worrying over the problems of an army bigger than many cities.

Zedd looked exhausted. Creases etched an inner anguish on his bony face. She reminded herself that he had only just learned that his grandson, the only family he had left in the world, was in the cruel hands of the enemy.

Besides that, Zedd had been fighting for two days and healing soldiers at night. She had seen him, when she arrived, staggering to his feet beside the corpse of what turned out to be General Reibisch. She knew that if Zedd couldn't save the man, he was beyond saving.

With her fingers, Kahlan combed back her hair and then gestured to the chair.

"You could sit for a minute, Zedd. Couldn't you?"

He looked at the chair, then at her bedroll. "For a minute, I suppose, while you get your bed ready. You need some rest."

Kahlan couldn't argue with that. She realized her head was throbbing.

The passions of battle masked little things, like a pounding headache. The straw-filled mattress looked as good as a feather bed to her right then. She tossed her wolf-fur mantle and her cloak on the bed. They would keep her warm.

Without comment, Zedd watched as she unstrapped the Sword of Truth and pulled it off her back. He had given the weapon to Richard. Kahlan had been there, and begged Zedd not to do it, but he said he had no choice, that Richard was the one. Zedd had been right. Richard was indeed the one.

She felt her face flush when, just before she laid the sword down, she kissed the top of the hilt, where Richard's hand had so often rested. Zedd, if he even noticed, said nothing, and she laid the gleaming scabbard and sword to rest beside her mattress.

In the awkward quiet, Kahlan took off the royal Galean sword. She saw then that there was blood running down the scabbard. She unstrapped and removed the layer of light leather armor and laid it beside her pack. When she leaned the royal sword and scabbard against the plates of leather armor, she saw then that they were splattered with blood.

She noticed, too, that the leather leg armor had bloody handprints here and there on it, and there were long gouges in the leather from mens' fingernails. She remembered men grabbing for her, trying to unhorse her, but she didn't recall their hands actually clawing at her. The images that started flooding back threatened to make her nauseated, so she directed her mind to other things.

"Cara and I crossed over the Rang'Shada mountains, north of Agaden Reach, and came down through Galea," she said into the uncomfortable silence.

"I gathered," he said.