Soul of the Fire

"This? No… it's not the Sword of Truth. I don't have it with me… right at the moment."

Beata didn't have the nerve to ask why not. She wished she could have seen the real sword. It had magic. That would have been something-for her to see the Sword of Truth Fitch thought so much about, instead of him seeing it. Being in the army, and in charge of a Dominie Dirtch, she was doing more than he ever would.

Lord Rahl had turned to the towering weapon. He seemed to have forgotten that anyone else existed, as he focused on the lichen-covered stone before him. He stood as still as the stone. He seemed almost one with it.

His hand reached out to touch the Dominie Dirtch.

The woman snatched his wrist, holding his hand back.

"No, my husband. Do not touch this thing. It is…”

Lord Rahl turned to look into her eyes, finishing what she'd left unsaid. "Evil."

"You can feel it, then?"

He nodded.

Of course it was evil, Beata wanted to say; it was made by Hakens.

Beata's brow bunched in puzzlement. The woman had called him "husband," but the Mother Confessor had said the Lord Rahl was her husband.

Lord Rahl, seeing his troops drawing close, started down the stairs two at a time. The woman took in the Dominie Dirtch one last time and then moved to follow him.

"Husband?" Beata was unable to resist asking the pregnant woman.

She lifted her chin as she turned to Beata. "Yes. I am the wife of the Lord Rahl, the Seeker, the Caharin, Richard."

"But, but the Mother Confessor said…"

The woman shrugged. "Yes, we are the both of us his wives."

"Both? Two…?"

The woman started down the stairs. "He is an important man. He can have more than one wife." The woman stopped and looked back. "I once had five husbands."

Beata's eyes widened as she watched the woman disappear down the stairs. The morning air rumbled with the approach of the mounted soldiers. Beata had never even imagined such ferocious-looking men. She was glad for her training; Captain Tolbert had told her that with her training, she could defend Anderith against anyone, even men like these.

"Sergeant Beata," Lord Rahl called up to her.

Beata went to the rail in front of the bell. He had stopped on his way to his horse out front and turned back. The Mother Confessor was taking up the reins. She put a foot in a stirrup.

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't suppose you rang that thing about a week ago?"

"No, sir, we didn't."

He turned to his horse. 'Thank you, Sergeant."

"But it chimed by itself back then."

The Lord Rahl stiffened in place. The pregnant woman spun back around. The Mother Confessor, halfway up onto her horse, dropped back to the ground.

Beata raced down the steps so she wouldn't have to shout the awful details down at him. The rest of her squad had pulled way back behind the Dominie Dirtch, fearing to be in the way of such important people; fearing, Beata supposed, that the Mother Confessor might set them afire with a look. Beata still feared the woman, but the edge of her fear had been dulled.

Lord Rahl whistled to the soldiers and wheeled his arm, ordering them to hurry through, past the Dominie Dirtch, out of the way of harm, should the Dominie Dirtch again ring of its own accord. As hundreds of mounted men galloped around both sides, he hurried to usher the Mother Confessor and the pregnant woman, along with the other man, around to the rear of the stone base.

Once the women were safely past, he seized the shoulder of Beata's uniform and hauled her back, protectively, away from the front of Dominie Dirtch. She stiffened to attention-mostly in fear-before him.

His brow had drawn down in a way that made Beata's knees tremble. "What happened?" he asked in a quiet voice that seemed as if it could have caused the Dominie Dirtch to ring again.

The Mother Confessor had come to stand beside him. His pregnant wife stood on his other side.

"Well, we don't know, sir." Beata licked her lips. "One of my men… Turner, he was…” She gestured out behind Lord Rahl. "He was out on patrol when the thing rang. It was an awful sound. Just awful. And Turner…”

Beata could feel a tear roll down her cheek. As much as she didn't want this man and the Mother Confessor to see her showing weakness, she couldn't keep that tear back.

"In the late afternoon?" Lord Rahl asked.

Beata nodded. "How did you know?"

He ignored the question. "All of them rang? Not just this one, but all of them up and down the line rang, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir. No one knows the reason. Some officers came down the line, checking them, but they couldn't tell us anything."

"Were a lot of people killed?"

Beata abandoned his gaze. "Yes, sir. One of my men, and a lot of others, from what I was told. Wagons with merchants at the border, people returning to pass through the border… anyone out front of the Dominie Dirtch when they rang…. It was just awful. To die in such a fashion…”

"We understand," the Mother Confessor said in a compassionate tone. "We're sorry for your loss."

"So no one has any idea why they rang?" Lord Rahl pressed.