Stone of Tears

Since leaving the Galean army nearly a month before, she had been struggling to reach Aydindril, and Zedd. Storms had raged for days at a time. Passes had been rendered impassable by the weather and snow, forcing them to backtrack and find alternate routes. It had been a frustrating and tiring journey, but the despair at reaching her goal and not finding Zedd was withering.

Kahlan had made her way through the side streets, avoiding Kings Row. The palaces on Kings Row housed dignitaries, staffs, and guards of the lands that were represented in Aydindril. The kings and queens and rulers of those lands stayed in their palaces when they came to address the council. The palaces were a matter of pride for each land, and each was magnificent, although none could begin to compare to the Confessors” Palace.

Kahlan had avoided Kings Row because she would be recognized there, and she didn’t want to be recognized right now; she wanted only to find Zedd and, failing that, speak to the council, so she headed toward the service area to the side, near the kitchens.

Chandalen was out in the forest. He didn’t want to come into Aydindril; the size of the city and the multitudes of people made him uneasy, though he denied it, and claimed only to be more comfortable sleeping outside. Kahlan couldn’t blame him; after being alone in the mountains for so long, she, too, was uneasy going into the city, even though she had grown up in this place and knew its streets and majestic buildings as well as Chandalen knew the plains around the Mud People village. The people everywhere made her feel closed in as never before.

Chandalen wanted to go home to his people, now that she was delivered safely to Aydindril. She could understand his desire to be off, but asked him to rest the night, and say good-bye to her in the morning.

She had told Orsk to spend the night with Chandalen. His presence was wearing; his one eye following her everywhere, his jumping to help her with everything, his constantly standing ready to do her bidding at the slightest indication. It was like having a dog continually at heel. She needed a night away from that. Chandalen seemed to understand. She didn’t know what she was going to do about Orsk.

A stifling blast of warm air hit her as she went in through the kitchen entrance. At the sound of the door, a thin woman in a sparkling white apron spun to her.

“What are you doing in here! Get out, you beggar!”

As the woman lifted her wooden spoon in a threatening. manner, Kahlan pushed back the hood of her mantle. The woman gasped. Kahlan smiled.

“Mistress Sanderholt. I’m so pleased to see you again.”

“Mother Confessor!” The woman fell to her knees, clasping her hands together. “Oh, Mother Confessor, forgive me! I didn’t recognize you. Oh, good spirits be praised, is it really you?”

Kahlan pulled the wiry woman to her feet. “I’ve missed you so, Mistress Sanderholt.” Kahlan held out her arms. “Give me a hug?”

Mistress Sanderholt fell into Kahlan’s arms. “Oh, child, It’s so good to see you!” She pushed away, tears running down her face. “We didn’t know what had become of you. We were so worried. I thought I might never see you again.”

“It has been a long and difficult time. I can’t tell you how good it is to see your face again.”

Mistress Sanderholt started pulling Kahlan toward a side table. “Come. You need a bowl of soup. I have some on now, if these featherbrains who do what scarcely passes for cooking haven’t ruined it with too much pepper.”

The welter of cooks and help caught the words and kept their heads down, applying their attention to their tasks. The sounds of whisks and spoons on bowls stepped up. Men picked up sacks and hurried away. Brushes worked at pots with greater zeal. Butter hissed in hot pans, and bread in ovens and meat on spits suddenly needed checking.

“I don’t have time, right now, Mistress Sanderholt.”

“But I have things I must tell you. Important things.”

“I know. I have things to tell you, too. But right now I must see the council. It’s urgent. I’ve been traveling a long time, and I’m exhausted, but I must see the council before I rest. We will talk tomorrow.”

Mistress Sanderholt couldn’t resist another hug. “Of course, child. Rest well. We will talk tomorrow.”

Kahlan took the shortest route, through the immense hall used for important ceremonies and celebrations. Fires in the large, magnificent fireplaces set around the room between fluted columns sent shadows of herself spiraling around her as she crossed the green slate floor. The room was empty, now, allowing her footsteps to echo overhead from the intricate lierne vaulting with the wavelike, sweeping ribs. Her father used to set thousands of walnuts and acorns, representing troops, all over the floor of this room, to teach her battle tactics.