Stone of Tears

She took a deep breath. “Well, they know that if they don’t bow to the Mother Confessor’s leadership, they will be alone and vulnerable to any stronger neighbor who craves power. There would be war until the strongest among them crushed all the rest, as Darken Rahl’s father, Panis Rahl, did in D’Hara. They know that ultimately it is in their own interest to have an independent council leader, who sides with no land.”

“But it’s not in the best interest of the strongest. Something other than a good heart or common sense must keep the strongest of these lands in line.”

She nodded with a smile. “You understand the games of power well. You are right. They know that if they were bold enough to allow their ambitions a free rein, I, or any of the Confessors, could take their ruler with our magic. But there is more. The wizards back the Mother Confessor.”

“I thought wizards didn’t want anything to do with power.”

“They don’t, exactly. The threat of their intervention makes it unnecessary. Wizards call it the paradox of power: if you have power, and are ready, able, and willing to use it, you don’t need to exercise your power. The lands know that if they don’t work together, and use the impartial leadership of the Mother Confessor, then the wizards are always in the background, ready to teach the disadvantages of being unreasonable or greedy.

The whole thing is a very complex, interwoven relationship, but what it all comes down to is that I rule the Central Council, and if I’m not there to do so, the weak, the defenseless, and the peaceful will eventually be overrun, and the rest will be drawn into a war until all but the strongest are crushed.”

Richard sank back to contemplate this with a slight frown on his face. She watched the firelight play on his features. She could feel what he was thinking about: he was remembering the way she had, with only a gesture of her hand, demanded that Queen Milena fall to her knees, kiss the Mother Confessor’s hand, and swear loyalty. She wished she hadn’t had to show him the power she wielded, and how much she was feared, but what she had done had been necessary. Some deferred only to power. When necessary, a leader had to show that power, or be cut down.

When he looked up at last, his face held a serious cast. “There is going to be trouble. The wizards are all dead; they killed themselves before they sent you looking for Zedd. The threat backing the Mother Confessor is gone. The other Confessors are all dead, killed by Darken Rahl. You are the last. You have no allies. There is no one to take your place if anything happens to you. Zedd told us to meet him in Aydindril, he must know this too.

“From what I have seen of powerful people, from councilors in my homeland, even my own brother, to queens here, to Darken Rahl, they will view you as a lone obstacle in their way. If the Midlands is to be kept from being torn apart, the Mother Confessor must rule, and you are going to need help. You and I both must serve the truth. I’m going to help you.”

A sly smile parted his lips. “If those councilors were afraid to plot against the Mother Confessor, or give her trouble, because of the wizards, wait until they meet the Seeker.”

Kahlan touched her fingers to his face. “You are a rare person, Richard Cypher. You are with the most powerful person in the Midlands. Yet you make me feel as if I am riding your coattails to greatness.”

“I’m nothing more than the one who loves you with all my heart. That is the only greatness I wish to live up to.” Richard sighed. “It seemed a lot simpler when it was just you and me all by ourselves in the woods, and I cooked you dinner on a stick over an open fire.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You are still going to let me cook you dinner, aren’t you, Mother Confessor?”

“I don’t think Mistress Sanderholt would like that. She doesn’t like anyone in her kitchens.”

“You have a cook?”

“Well, I’ve never seen her cook anything, come to think of it. Mostly she just whisks all about, ruling her domain with a wooden spoon she wields like a scepter, tasting food and scolding cooks, assistants, and scullions. She is the head cook.

“She frets something awful when I come down to the kitchens to cook. Mistress Sanderholt begs me to take up another interest. She says I scare her people. She says they shake for the rest of the day whenever I come to the kitchens and ask for pots. So I try not to do it too often. But I do so like to cook.”

Kahlan smiled at the memory of Mistress Sanderholt. It was long months since she had been home.

“Cooks,” Richard muttered to himself. “I’ve never had anyone cook for me. I always cooked for myself.” His smile returned. “Well, I guess this Mistress Sanderholt will be able to make a little room for me if I want to cook you something special.”

“I would wager that you will soon have her doing whatever it is you wish.”