knew he would not be inclined to try it through a vote again, but she didn’t see how else the people could prove themselves to him.
“I’d not mention it to Richard,” she said. “It’s difficult for him—not being able to issue orders. He’s trying to do what he believes is right, but it’s a difficult course to hold to.”
“I understand, Mother Confessor. ‘In his wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are his.’”
Kahlan studied the smooth lines and simple angles of his young face lit by the dancing firelight. In that face, she saw some of what Richard had been trying to say to her before. “Richard doesn’t believe your lives are his, Captain, but that they are your own, and priceless. That is what he is fighting for.”
He chose his words carefully; if he wasn’t worried about her being the Mother Confessor, since he hadn’t grown up fearing the power and the rule of such a woman, she was still the Lord Rahl’s wife.
“Most of us see how different he is from the last Lord Rahl. I’m not claiming that any of us understands everything about him, but we know he fights to defend, rather than to conquer. As a soldier, I know the difference it makes to believe in what I’m fighting for, because…”
The captain looked away from her gaze. He lifted a short branch of firewood, tapping the end on the ground for a time. His voice took on a painful inflection. “Because it takes something precious out of you to kill people who never meant you any harm.”
The fire crackled and hissed as he slowly stirred the glowing coals. Sparks swirled up to spill out from around the underside of the rock overhang.
Cara watched her Agiel as she rolled it in her fingers. “You…feel that way too?”
Captain Meiffert met Cara’s gaze. “I never realized, before, what it was doing to me, inside. I didn’t know. Lord Rahl makes me proud to be D’Haran. He makes it stand for something right…. It never did before. I thought that the way things were, was just the way things were, and they could never change.”
Cara’s gaze fell away as she privately nodded her agreement. Kahlan could only imagine what life was like living under that kind of rule, what it did to people.
“I’m glad you understand, Captain,” Kahlan whispered. “That’s one reason he worries so much about all of you. He wants you to live lives you can be proud of. Lives that are your own.”
He dropped the stick into the fire. “And he wanted all the people of Anderith to care about themselves the way he wants us to value our lives. The vote wasn’t really for him, but for themselves. That was why the vote meant so much to him?”
“That’s why,” Kahlan confirmed, afraid to test her own voice any further than that.
He stirred his spoon around to cool his dinner. It no longer needed cooling, she was sure. She supposed his thoughts were being stirred more than his dinner.
“You know,” he said, “one of the things I heard people say, back in Anderith, was that since Darken Rahl was his father, Richard Rahl was evil, too. They said that since his father had done wrong, Richard Rahl might sometimes do good, but he could never be a good person.”
“I heard that too,” Cara said. “Not just in Anderith, but a lot of places.”
“That’s wrong. Why should people think that just because one of his parents was cruel, those crimes pass on to someone who never did them? And that he must spend his life making amends? I’d hate to think that if I’m ever lucky enough to have children, they, and then their children, and their children after that, would have to suffer forever for the things I’ve done serving under Darken Rahl.” He looked over at Kahlan and Cara. “Such prejudice isn’t right.”
In the silence, Cara stared into the flames.
“I served under Darken Rahl. I know the difference in the two men.” His voice lowered with simmering anger. “It’s wrong of people to lay guilt for the crimes of