Blood of the Fold tsot-3 Page 17

  Lunetta beamed. Tobias almost laughed out loud; Lord Rahl had just delivered a cutting message to the others in the room: their social status counted for nothing with him. Tobias was suddenly beginning to enjoy himself. Perhaps the Order would not be so poorly served with a man like this among their leaders.

  “The Imperial Order,” Lord Rahl began, “believes that the time has come for the world to be united under a common canon: theirs. They say that magic is responsible for all man’s failings, misfortunes, and troubles. They claim all evil to be the external influence of magic. They say the time has come for magic to pass from the world.”

  Some in the room murmured their agreement, some grumbled their skepticism, but most stood mute.

  Lord Rahl laid an arm across the top of the largest chair—the one in the center. “In order for their vision to be complete, and in light of their self-proclaimed divine cause, they will suffer the sovereignty of no land. They wish for all to be brought under their influence, and to go forward into the future as one people: subjects of the Imperial Order.”

  He paused for a moment as he met the gaze of many in the crowd. “Magic is not a fount of evil. This is merely an excuse for their actions as they ascend to supremacy.”

  Whispering swept back through the room, and low undertones of arguments boiled up. Duchess Lumholtz strode forward, commanding attention. She smiled at Lord Rahl before bowing her head.

  “Lord Rahl, what you say is all very interesting, but the Blood of the Fold here—” She flicked her hand in the direction of Tobias and at the same time cast him an icy glare. “—say that all magic is spewed forth by the Keeper.”

  Brogan neither said anything, nor moved. Lord Rahl didn’t look in his direction, but instead kept his gaze on the duchess.

  “A child, come anew into the world, is magic. Would you call that evil?”

  Lifting an imperious hand, she quieted the crowd at her back. “The Blood of the Fold preaches that magic is created by the Keeper himself, and thereby can only be evil incarnate.”

  From various areas around the floor and up in the balcony, people shouted their agreement. This time it was Lord Rahl who lifted a hand, bringing them to silence.

  “The Keeper is the destroyer, the bane of light and life, the breath of death. As I hear it told, it is the Creator, through his power and majesty, who brings all things to be.” Almost as one, the crowd shouted that it was true.

  “In that case,” Lord Rahl said, “to believe that magic springs from the Keeper is blasphemy. Could the Keeper create a newborn child? To ascribe the power to create, which is the sole domain of the Creator, to the Keeper, is to grant to the Keeper that which is chaste, and only the Creator’s. The Keeper cannot create. To hold such a profane belief could only be heresy.”

  Silence fell like a pall over the room. Lord Rahl cocked his head to the duchess, “Did you step forward, my lady, to confess to being a heretic? Or simply to accuse another of heresy for personal gain?”

  With a face once again as red as her tight lips, she took several steps back to her husband’s side. The duke, his own face no longer calm, shook a finger at Lord Rahl.

  “Tricks with words will not change the fact that the Imperial Order fights the Keeper’s evil, and has come to unite us against him. They wish only for all people to prosper together. Magic will deny that right to mankind. I am Keltish, and proud of it, but it is time to move beyond fragmented and frail lands standing alone. We have had extensive talks with the Order, and they have proven themselves a civilized and decent lot, interested in joining all lands in peace.”

  “A noble ideal,” Lord Rahl answered in a quiet tone, “one you already had in the unity of the Midlands, yet you threw it away for avarice.”

  “The Imperial Order is different. It offers true strength, and true, lasting peace.”

  Lord Rahl fixed the duke with a glare. “Graveyards rarely breach a peace.” He turned his glare on the crowd. “Not long ago, an army of the Order swept through the heart of the Midlands, seeking to bring others into their fold. Many joined, and swelled their force. A D’Haran general named Riggs led them, along with officers of several lands, and was assisted by a wizard Slagle, of Keltish blood.

  “Well over one hundred thousand strong, they bore down on Ebinissia, the Crown city of Galea. The Imperial Order bade the people of Ebinissia join them and become subjects of the Order. When called upon to oppose aggression against the Midlands, the people of Ebinissia bravely did so; they refused to abandon their commitment to unity and a common defense that was the Midlands.”

  The duke opened his mouth to speak but, for the first time, Lord Rahl’s voice became menacing in tone and cut off his words.

  “The Galean army defended the city to the last man. The wizard used his power to rent the city walls and the Imperial Order poured in. Once the greatly outnumbered Galean defenders had been eliminated, the Imperial Order did not occupy the city, but instead went through it like a pack of howling animals—raping, torturing, and butchering helpless people.”

  Lord Rahl, his jaw clenched tight, leaned across the desk, and pointed a finger at Duke Lumholtz. “The Order slaughtered every living person in Ebinissia: the old, the young, the newborn. They impaled defenseless, pregnant women in order to kill both mother and unborn child.”

  His face red with rage, he slammed his fist to the desk. Everyone jumped. “With that act, the Imperial Order put the lie to anything they say! They have lost the right to tell anyone anything about what is right, and what is wicked. They are without virtue. They come for one reason and one reason only: to vanquish and subjugate. They slaughtered the people of Ebinissia to show others what they had to offer anyone who fails to submit.

  “They will not be halted by borders or by reason. Men with the blood of babes on their blades have no ethics. Don’t you dare stand there and try to tell me otherwise; the Imperial Order is beyond defense. They have shown the fangs behind their smile, and by the spirits they have lost the right to offer words and have them taken as truth!”

  Taking a calming breath, Lord Rahl straightened. “Both those innocents at the points of blades and those at the hilts forfeited much that day. The ones at the points forfeited their lives. The ones at the hilt forfeited their humanity and their right to be heard, much less believed. They have cast themselves and any who join them as my enemy.”

  “And who were these troops?” someone else asked. “Many were D’Haran, by your own admission. You lead the D’Harans, by your own admission. When the boundary came down last spring, the D’Harans swept in and committed atrocities much the same as you recount. Though Aydindril was spared that cruelty, many other cities and towns suffered the same fate as Ebinissia, but at the hands of D’Hara. Now you ask us to believe you? You are no better.”

  Lord Rahl nodded. “What you say about D’Hara is true. D’Hara was led by my father, Darken Rahl, who was a stranger to me. He did not raise me, or teach me his ways. What he wanted was much the same as the Imperial Order wants: to conquer all lands, and rule all people. Where the Order is a monolithic cause, his was a personal quest. Besides using brute force to obtain his ends, he also used magic, much the same as the Order.

  “I stand against everything Darken Rahl stood for. He would stop at no evil act to have his way. He tortured and killed countless innocent people, and suppressed magic, so that it could not be used against him, the same as the Order would do.”

  “Then you’re the same as he.”

  Lord Rahl shook his head. “No, I am not. I do not lust to rule. I take up the sword only because I have the ability to help oppose oppression. I fought on the side of the Midlands against my father. In the end, I killed him for his crimes. When he used his vile magic to return from the underworld, I used magic to stop him and send his spirit back to the Keeper. I used magic again to close a doorway the Keeper was using to send his minions into this world.”

  Brogan ground his teeth. He knew from experience that banelings often tried to
hide their true nature by regaling you with stories of how valiantly they had fought the Keeper and his minions. He had heard enough of these spurious accounts to recognize them as diversions from the actual evil in the person’s heart. The Keeper’s followers were often too cowardly to show their true nature, and so hid behind such boasts and concocted tales.

  In fact, he would have arrived in Aydindril sooner had he not come across so many pockets of perversion after he had left Nicobarese. Villages and towns, where everyone appeared to be living pious lives, turned out to be riddled with wickedness. When some of the more strident defenders of their virtue were put to a proper questioning they finally confessed their blasphemy. When put to a proper questioning, the names of streganicha and banelings who lived in the neighborhood, and had seduced them to evil with the use of magic, had rolled off their tongues.

  The only solution had been purification. Whole villages and towns had needed to be put to the torch. Not even a signpost to the Keeper’s lairs remained. The Blood of the Fold had done the Creator’s work, but it had taken time and effort.

  Seething, Brogan returned his attention to Lord Rahl’s words.

  “I take up this challenge only because the sword has been thrust into my hand. I ask that you not judge me by who my father was, but by what I do. I do not slaughter innocent, defenseless people. The Imperial Order does. Until I violate the trust of honest people, I have the right to be granted honest judgment.

  “I cannot stand by and watch evil men triumph; I will fight with everything I have, including magic. If you side with these murders, you will find no mercy under my sword.”

  “All we want is peace,” someone shouted.

  Lord Rahl nodded. “I, too, wish nothing more than that there were peace, and I could go home to my beloved woods and lead a simple life, but I can’t, any more than we can go back to the simple innocence of our childhood. Responsibility has been thrust upon me. Turning your back on innocents in need of help makes you the attacker’s accomplice. It is in the name of the innocent and defenseless that I take up the sword, and fight this battle.”

  Lord Rahl returned his arm to the center chair. “This is the chair of the Mother Confessor. For thousands of years the Mother Confessors have ruled the Midlands with a benevolent hand, struggling to hold the lands together, to have all the people of the Midlands live as neighbors in peace, and to let them tend to their own affairs without fear of outside force.” He let his gaze roam the eyes watching him. “The council sought to break the unity and peace for which this room, this palace, and this city, stand, and of which you speak so longingly. They unanimously condemned her to death and had her executed.”

  Lord Rahl slowly drew his sword and laid the weapon at the front edge of the desk, where all could see it. “I told you I am known by different titles. I am also known as the Seeker of Truth, named so by the First Wizard. I carry the Sword of Truth by right. Last night I executed the council for their treason.

  “You are the representatives of the lands of the Midlands. The Mother Confessor offered you the chance to stand together, and you turned your backs on that offer, and on her.”

  A man beyond Tobias’s view broke the icy silence. “Not all of us approved of the action the council took. Many of us wish the Midlands to stand. The Midlands will be joined yet again and made stronger for the struggle.”

  Many in the crowd voiced their agreement, vowing to do their best to bring unity again. Others remained silent.

  “It is too late for that. You have had your chance. The Mother Confessor suffered your bickering and intractability.” Lord Rahl slammed his sword back into its scabbard. “I will not.”

  “What are you talking about?” Duke Lumholtz asked, irritation embrittling his tone. “You’re from D’Hara. You’ve no right to tell us how the Midlands will function. The Midlands is our affair.”

  Lord Rahl stood statue still as he directed his soft, but commanding voice to the crowd. “There is no Midlands. I dissolve it, here and now. From now on, each land is on its own.”

  “The Midlands is not your toy!”

  “Nor is it Kelton’s,” Lord Rahl said. “It was the design of Kelton to rule the Midlands.”

  “How dare you accuse us of . . .”

  Lord Rahl held up his hand, bidding silence. “You are no more rapacious than some of the others. Many of you were anxious to have the Mother Confessors and wizards out of your hair so you could carve up the spoils.”

  Lunetta tugged on his arm. “True,” she whispered. Brogan silenced her with an icy look.

  “The Midlands will not tolerate this interference in our business,” another voice called out.

  “I am not here to discuss the governing of the Midlands. I have just told you, the Midlands is dissolved.” Lord Rahl regarded the crowd with a glare of such deadly commitment that Tobias had to remind himself to take another breath. “I am here to dictate the terms of your surrender.”

  The crowd flinched as one. Angry shouts erupted and built until the room roared. Red-faced men swore oaths as they shook their fists.

  Duke Lumholtz shouted everyone to silence and then turned back to the dais. “I don’t know what foolish ideas you’ve gotten into your head, young man, but the Imperial Order is in charge of this city. Many have come to reasonable agreements with them. The Midlands will be preserved, will stand united through the Order, and will never surrender to the likes of D’Hara!”

  When the crowd surged toward Lord Rahl, red rods appeared in the Mord-Siths hands, the echelon of soldiers drew steel, pikes came down, and the gar’s wings snapped open. The beast snarled, its fangs dripping and its green eyes glowing. Lord Rahl stood like a granite wall. The crowd halted and then receded.

  Lord Rahl’s whole body took on the same tight, dangerous demeanor as his glare. “You were offered a chance to preserve the Midlands, and you failed. D’Hara has been liberated from the fist of the Imperial Order and holds Aydindril.”

  “You only think you hold Aydindril,” the Duke said. “We have troops here, as do a great many of the lands, and we’re not about to let the city fall.”

  “A little late for that, too.” Lord Rahl held out a hand. “May I introduce General Reibisch, the commander of all D’Haran forces in this sector.”

  The general, a muscular man with a rust-colored beard and combat scars, stepped up onto the dais, clapping a fist to his heart in salute to Lord Rahl before turning to the people. “My troops command, and surround, Aydindril. My men have been sitting on this city for months now. We are finally free of the grip of the Order, and are once again D’Harans, lead by Master Rahl.

  “D’Haran troops don’t like sitting around. If any of you would like a fight, I, personally, would welcome it, though Lord Rahl has commanded that we not be the ones to start the killing, but if called to defend ourselves, the spirits know we will finish it. I’m bored nearly to death with the tedium of occupation, and I’d much rather have something more interesting to do, something I’m very good at.

  “Each of your lands has detachments of troops stationed to guard your palaces. In my professional judgment, if all of you decided to contest the city with the troops you have at hand, and did it in an organized fashion, it would take a day, maybe two, for us to rout them. When it was done, we would have no more troubles. Once battle is at hand, D’Harans don’t take prisoners.”

  The general stepped back with a bow to Lord Rahl.

  Everyone started talking at once, some angrily shaking their fists and shouting to be heard. Lord Rahl thrust his hand into the air.

  “Silence!” It came almost instantly, and he went on. “I have invited you here to hear what I have to say. After you have decided to surrender to D’Hara, then I will be interested in what you have to say. Not before!

  “The Imperial Order wishes to rule all of D’Hara and all of the Midlands. They have lost D’Hara; I rule D’Hara. They have lost Aydindril; D’Hara rules Aydindril.

  “You had a chance at unity, and you s
quandered it. That chance has passed into history. You now have but two choices. Your first is to choose to side with the Imperial Order. They will rule with an iron fist. You will have no say, and no rights. All magic will be exterminated, except the magic with which they dominate you. If you live, your lives will be a dark struggle without the spark of hope for freedom. You will be their slaves.

  “Your other choice is to surrender to D’Hara. You will follow the law of D’Hara. Once you are one with us, you will have a say in those laws. We have no desire to extinguish the diversity that is the Midlands. You will have the right to the fruits of your labor and the right to trade and flourish, as long as you work within the larger context of law and the rights of others. Magic will be protected, and your children will be born into a world of freedom, where anything is possible.

  “And once the Imperial Order is exterminated, there will be peace. True peace.

  “There will be a price: your sovereignty. While you will be allowed to maintain your own lands and cultures, you will not be allowed to have standing armies. The only men at arms will be those common to all, under the banner of D’Hara. This will not be a council of independent lands; your surrender is mandatory. Surrender is the price each land will pay for peace, and the proof of your commitment to it.

  “Much as you all paid a tribute to Aydindril, no land, no people, will bear all the burden of freedom; all lands, all people, will pay a tax sufficient to see to the common defense, and no more. All will pay equally; none will be favored.”

  The room erupted with protests, with most claiming it would be robbery of what was theirs. Lord Rahl silenced them with nothing more than his glare.

  “Nothing gained without cost is valued. I was reminded of that fact only today. She was the one we buried. Freedom has a cost, and all will bear it, so that all will value and preserve it.”

  The people up in the balcony broke out in near riot, protesting that they were promised gold, that it was theirs, and that they could not afford to pay any tax. Chanting began, demanding the gold be turned over to them. Once more, Lord Rahl held up a hand, commanding silence.