Stone of Tears

Kahlan came to a stop before the tent. “If you think I may be making a mistake about those men, I assure you, I am not. But even if I were, it is a price that must be paid. If we let them go, and even one of them betrays us, we could all be killed in a trap tonight. If we die, there will be none to stop the Order for a long time. How many thousands would die then, Captain? If those men are innocent, I’ll have made a terrible mistake, and seventy-six innocent men will die. If I’m right, I will be saving the lives of untold thousands of innocent people.

“You have your orders. Carry them out.”

Captain Ryan shook with rage. “I hope you don’t expect me to ever forgive you for this.”

“No, I don’t. I expect only that you follow my orders. I don’t care if you hate me, Captain. I care only that you live to do so.”

He gritted his teeth in mute frustration.

Kahlan gripped the tent flap. “Captain, I’m so tired I can hardly stand. I need to get a couple of hours” sleep. I want a guard posted around this tent while I rest.”

He glared at her. “And how can you be sure one of them might not be an enemy? They could kill you in your sleep.”

That’s a possibility. But if that happens, one of these three men would avenge my murder.”

Captain Ryan flinched and glanced at the three Mud People. In his anger, he had forgotten they were there.

Chandalen lifted an eyebrow to him. “I will first put sticks in his eyes, to hold them open, to be sure he sees what I do.”

Lieutenant Hobson rushed up, holding a bowl out in his hands. “Mother Confessor, I brought you some stew. I thought you would like something to eat. Something hot.”

Kahlan forced herself to smile at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’m so tired I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it down. Could you keep it warm, until after I’ve rested?”

“Of course, Mother Confessor.”

Captain Ryan’s glare slid to his grinning lieutenant. “I have a job for you, Hobson.”

Two hours,” Kahlan said, “and then wake me. You should all have enough to keep you busy in the meantime.”

She pulled the flap aside and went into the tent, nearly collapsing onto the cot. She drew a blanket over her legs, and lifted the fur mantle over her head, shutting out the light. In her small, private darkness, she shook.

She would have given her life, right then, to have Richard hold her for just five minutes.

Chapter 41

She was kissing Richard, holding him tightly in her arms, her mind filled with no thought but peace and joy, when she started at the sound of shouting. Richard was gone. Her heavy arms were empty.

She sat up, pushing the blanket away, frantic for an instant, not knowing where she was, and then she remembered. She felt as if she might vomit.

She wished she could have a hot bath. She couldn’t remember her last bath. She rubbed her eyes as Captain Ryan stuck his head inside the tent.

“How long?” Kahlan mumbled. “How long have I slept?” She threw the blanket aside.

“A couple hours, just about. There is someone out here for you.”

Directly outside her tent waited a group of men, an ashen-faced Lieutenant Hobson among them. In their midst stood Mosle, bound and gagged and held at each arm by soldiers. His eyes darted about in panic. He tried to shout through the gag, but couldn’t make himself understood.

Kahlan glowered over at Captain Ryan.

He stood with one thumb hooked in his belt. “I thought, Mother Confessor, that you would want to execute this man yourself. Since he seems to have personally offended you so.” He held his knife out toward her, handle first.

Kahlan ignored the knife and turned instead to the men holding Mosle. “release him, and stand away.”

She felt as if she were still in a sleep, still in a dream. But she wasn’t. There was no option.

As they stepped back, she reached out and snatched Mosle by his arm. He froze in fright for an instant, and then tried to back away.

But he had no time to escape. She was touching him now. He was hers. Her sleepiness vanished in a sucking rush as her power ignited. She gave no thought to what she was about to do; there was no choice. She was committed. She gave herself over to it.

The sounds of the camp—the jangle of tack, the grating of wooden boxes being skidded across wagon beds, the splintering of other boxes being pried open, the squeak of wheels, the whinnies of horses, the sound of thousands of feet shuffling, men talking, the clop of hooves, the sound of steel being sharpened, the popping of wood in fires, and the sound of her own heart beating—all faded away to silence.

In the silence of her mind, the power was all. She could feel Mosle’s muscles tighten under her hand. But he had no chance. He was hers.

In the silence, in the quiet, in the peace of her mind, as she had done countless times before, she released her power, her magic, into the man before her.

There was a violent jolt to the air as it slammed into him. Thunder without sound. The snow around her and Mosle billowed away in a ring, rising and tumbling, until it dissipated and settled again.