Soul of the Fire

A masonry platform with a squat stone railing across the front sat at the head of the square. From it, public announcements were made. Before they went away, Richard had spoken there to interested, earnest people. Richard and Kahlan had come into Fairfield on their way back, intending to speak again at the square before they went on to the estate. It was urgent to start the tedious task of combing through all the books either by or about Joseph Ander, searching for a key to stopping the chimes, but Richard had wanted to reinforce the positive things he had told these people before.

In the last few days the chimes had grown worse. They seemed to be everywhere. Richard and Kahlan had been able to stop some of their own men, overcome with the irresistible call of death, just before they leaped into fire, or slipped into water. They hadn't been in time for others. None of them had been getting much sleep.

The gathered multitude started chanting.

"No more war. No more war. No more war." It was a dull drone, deep and insistent, like the quaking of the distant thunder.

Richard thought it a good sentiment, one he wholeheartedly embraced, but he was disturbed by the anger in people's eyes, and the tone in their voices as they chanted it. It went on for a time, like thunder booming in from the plains, building, growing.

A man near the platform held up his young girl on his shoulders for the people to see. "She has something to say! Let her speak! Please! Hear my child!"

The crowd called out encouragement. The girl, ten or twelve years old, climbed the steps at the side and, looking determined, marched across the platform to stand at the rail. The crowd quieted to hear her.

"Please, dear Creator, hear our prayers. Keep Lord Rahl from making war," she said in a voice powered by simplistic adolescent zeal. She looked to her father. He nodded and she went on. "We don't want his war. Please, dear Creator, make Lord Rahl give peace a chance."

Richard felt as if an arrow of ice had pierced his heart. He wanted to explain to the child, explain a thousand things, but he knew she would not understand a one of them. Kahlan's hand on his back was cold comfort.

Another girl, maybe a year or two younger, climbed the steps to join the first. "Please, dear Creator, make Lord Rahl give peace a chance."

A line was forming, parents bearing children of all ages to the steps. They all had similar messages. Most stepped forward and simply said, "Give peace a chance," some not seeming to even comprehend the words they spoke before they returned to proud parents.

It was plain to Richard that the children had been practicing the words all day. The words were not the language of children. That hardly softened the hurt, knowing they believed it."

Some of the children were reluctant, some were nervous, but most seemed proud and happy to be part of the great event. By the passion in their voices, he could tell the older ones believed they were speaking profound words that had a chance to alter history, and avert what was, to them, a pointless loss of life, a disaster for nothing of any good.

A young boy asked, "Dear Creator, why does Lord Rahl want to hurt children? Make him give peace a chance."

The crowd went wild cheering him. At seeing the reaction, he repeated it, and again it was cheered. Many in the crowd were weeping.

Richard and Kahlan shared a look beyond words. It was obvious to them both that this was no spontaneous.outpouring of sentiment; this was a groomed and rehearsed message. They had been getting reports of this sort of thing, but to see it made his blood run cold.

A man Richard recognized as a Director named Prevot finally stepped up onto the platform.

"Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor," the man shouted out over the crowd, "if you could hear me now, I would ask, why would you bring your vile magic to our peace-loving people? Why would you try to drag us into your war, a war we don't want?

"Listen to the children, for theirs are the words of wisdom!

"There is no reason to resort to conflict before dialogue. If you cared about the lives of innocent children, you would sit down with the Imperial Order and resolve your differences. The Order is willing, why are you not? Could it be you want this war so you might conquer what isn't yours? So you may enslave those who reject you?

"Listen to the wise words of all these children and please, in the name of all that is good, give peace a chance!"

The crowd took up the chant, "Give peace a chance. Give peace a chance. Give peace a chance." The man let it go on for a time, and then started in again.

"Our new Sovereign has much work to do for us! We desperately need his guiding hand. Why must Lord Rahl insist on distracting our Sovereign from the work of the people? Why would Lord Rahl put our children at such great peril?

"For his greed!" the man shouted in answer to his own questions. "For his greed!"