Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

“I was hoping Giller would have been there,” Kahlan said. “Then we wouldn’t need to do this.”

“Me too,” Zedd grumbled. “You just make a quick inspection, ask if anyone wants to give a confession, and when they say no, we go back up and ask to see Giller.” He gave her a smile. “You’ve handled it well so far, dear one.” She returned the smile to the two of them. “And Richard,” he cautioned, “you keep away from that artist, James.”

“Why? He might draw a bad likeness of me?”

“Wipe that grin off your face. You stay away from him because he might draw a spell around you.”

“A spell? Why would you need an artist to put a spell on someone?”

“Because there are many different languages in the Midlands, though the main one is the same as is spoken in Westland. To be spelled, you have to be able to understand it. If you can’t speak their language, you can’t put a spell on them. But everyone can understand a drawing. He can draw a spell on almost anyone, not Kahlan or me, but he can on you. Stay away from him.”

Their footsteps echoed as the three quickly descended stone steps. The walls, far belowground, leaked water and were covered in places with slime.

Kahlan indicated a heavy door to the side. “Through here.”

Richard pulled it open by the iron ring, the strap hinges creaking. Torchlight lit the way down a narrow stone corridor with a ceiling he had to stoop to avoid hitting with his head. Straw covered the wet floor, and smelled of decay. Near the end she slowed to a walk and approached an iron door with a grille in it. Eyes peered out at them when she stopped.

Zedd leaned around her. “The Mother Confessor here to see the prisoners,” he growled. “Open the door.”

Richard could hear the echo of a key turning in the lock. A squat man in a filthy uniform pulled the door inward. An axe hung from his belt next to the keys. He bowed to Kahlan, but looked to be annoyed by it. Without a word, he led them through the little room just inside the door, where he had been sitting at a table, eating, and down another dark hall to another iron door. He pounded on it with his fist. The two guards inside bowed in surprise. The three guards took torches from iron stanchions and led them down a short hall and through a third iron door that they all had to duck through.

Flickering torchlight pierced the darkness. Behind cross-hatched, flat iron bars to each side, men pushed themselves back into the corners, shielding their eyes with their hands from the sudden light. Kahlan spoke Zedd’s name quietly, indicating that she wanted something. He seemed to understand, and took a torch from one of the guards and held it up in front of Kahlan so all the men in the cells could see her.

There were gasps from the darkness when they recognized who she was.

Kahlan addressed one of the guards. “How many of these men are sentenced to die?”

He stroked his round, unshaven jaw. “Why, all of them.”

“All of them,” she repeated.

He nodded. “Crimes against the Crown.”

She pulled her gaze away from him after a moment, turning to the prisoners. “Have all you men committed capital offenses?”

After a moment of silence, a hollow-faced man came and gripped the bars. He spat at her. Kahlan swept her hand back to stop Richard before he had a chance to move.

“Come to do the Queen’s dirty work, Confessor? I spit on you and your filthy queen.”

“I do not come here on behalf of the Queen. I come here on behalf of the truth.”

“The truth! The truth is none of us has done a thing! Except maybe speaking up against the new laws. And since when is speaking up against your family starving, or freezing to death, a capital crime? The Queen’s tax collectors came and took most of my crops, they barely left enough to feed my family. When I sold the precious little I could spare, they said I was overcharging people. The prices of everything are going wild. I’m doing nothing more than trying to survive. Yet I am to be beheaded for price gouging. These men in here with me are all innocent farmers, or tradesmen, or merchants. We are all to die for trying to earn a living from our work.”

Kahlan looked to the men in the corner. “Do any of you wish to make a confession to prove your innocence?”

There were hushed whispers. A gaunt man in the darkness stood and came forward. His frightened eyes looked out at them from the gloom. “I do. I have done nothing, yet I am to be beheaded, my wife and children left to fend for themselves. I will give a confession.” He pushed his arm through the bars, reaching for her. “Please, Mother Confessor, take my confession.”

More men stood, coming forward, all asking to give a confession. Soon, they were all at the bars, begging to give a confession. Kahlan and Zedd exchanged a grim look.

“In my whole life I have seen only three men ask to give a confession,” she whispered to the wizard.

“Kahlan?” The familiar voice came from the cell on the other side, from the darkness.

Kahlan gripped the bars with spread fingers. “Siddin? Siddin!” She spun to the guards. “These men have all given the Mother Confessor their confessions, I find them all to be innocent. Open the bars!”

“Now, hold on. I can’t be letting all these men out.”

Richard drew the sword in an arc as he spun. The sword crashed a swath through the iron bars, and shards of hot steel and sparks filled the air. He spun around and kicked the iron door shut behind the startled guards. He had the sword at their faces before a single one of them managed to clear an axe from his belt.

“Open the bars or I will slice you in half and take the keys from your belt that way!”

The shaking guard with the keys jumped to do as he was told. The door swung open and Kahlan rushed in, going back into the darkness. She came back holding a frightened Siddin in her arms, holding his head against her shoulder. She whispered in his ear, calming him. Siddin jabbered back in the Mud People language. She smiled and told him things he smiled back at. As she came out, the guard was opening the other cell door. She held Siddin in one arm, and with her free hand she grabbed the guard’s shirt collar.

“The Mother Confessor finds all these men innocent.” Her voice was as hard as the iron around her. “They are to be released upon my order. You three are to escort them to safety, outside the city.” He was a head shorter than she—she pulled his face closer to hers. “If you fail in any way, you will answer to me.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mother Confessor. I understand. It will be done as you say. On my word.”

“On your life,” she corrected.

She released him. The prisoners poured out of the cells, falling to their knees around her, crying, taking the hem of her dress in their hands, kissing it. She shooed them away.

“Enough of that. Be on your way, all of you. Just remember, Confessors serve no one. They serve only the truth.”

They all swore they would remember, and followed the guards out. Richard saw that many of their shirts were shredded, or streaked with dried blood, their backs covered with welts.

Before they entered the room where the Queen waited, Kahlan stopped and put Siddin into Zedd’s arms. With her hands she smoothed his hair, then her dress, and with a deep breath, her face.

“Just keep in mind what we are here for, Mother Confessor,” the wizard said.

She gave him a nod, put her chin up, and strode into the room with the Queen. Queen Milena waited where they had left her, her entourage still with her. The Queen’s eyes caught on Siddin.

“I trust you have found everything in order, Mother Confessor?”

Kahlan’s face stayed calm, but her voice had a cold edge to it. “Why is this child in your dungeon?”