"Yes, letting them murder me. That's the alternative: losing your life and losing the cause for which you fight-the lives of your loved ones."

Richard's expression had turned grave. "If some of your people have joined with the Order, or work to protect them, then it may be that you could end up facing them. It will be their life, or yours. It could even mean the lives of the rest of us. If they side with evil, then we must not allow them to stop us from eliminating evil.

"This is part of what you must weigh in your decision to join us or not. If you take up this struggle, you must accept that you may have to kill people you know. You must weigh this in the choice you will make."

The men no longer seemed shocked by his words. They looked solemn as they listened.

Kahlan saw small birds flitting past, looking to roost for the night.

The sky, the icy fog, was getting darker. She scanned the sky, ever watchful for black-tipped races. With the weather in the pass so dreadful, she doubted they would be around. The fog, at least, was comforting for that reason.

Richard looked exhausted. She knew how hard it was for her to breathe in the high, thin air, so it had to be far worse for him; she feared how, because of the poison, the thin air robbed Richard of his strength. They needed to be down out of the high pass.

"I have told you the truth and all I can for now," Richard told the men. "Your future is now up to each of you."

He quietly asked Cara, Jennsen, and Tom to collect their things. He put a gentle hand on Kahlan's back as he turned to the men and gestured down the hill.

"We're going back down to our camp in those woods. You men decide what you will do. If you are with us, then come down there in the protection of the trees, where the races won't be able to spot us when the weather lifts.

We will need to finish making the weapons you will carry.

"If any of you choose not to join us, then you're on your own. I plan not to be here, at this camp, for long. If the Order captures you they will likely torture you and I don't want to be anywhere nearby when you scream your lungs out as you reveal where our camp was."

The forlorn men stood huddled in a group.

"Lord Rahl," Owen asked, "you mean we must choose now?"

"I've told you all I can. How much longer can those being tortured, raped, and murdered wait for you? If you wish to join us and be part of life, then come down to our camp. If you choose not to be on our side, then I wish you luck. But please don't try to follow us or I'll have to kill you.

I was once a woods guide; I will know if any of you follow us."

One of the men, the one who had been the first to show Richard two pebbles to say that he would reveal the location of the antidote, stepped forward, away from the rest of the men.

"Lord Rahl, my name is Anson." Tears filled his blue eyes. "I wanted you to know that, to know who I am. I am Anson."

Richard nodded. "All right, Anson."

"Thank you for opening my eyes. I've always had some of the thoughts that you explained. Now I understand why, and I understand the darkness kept over my eyes. I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to live by words that don't mean anything and I don't want the men of the Order to control my life.

"My parents were murdered. I saw my father's body hanging from a pole.

He never hurt anyone. He did nothing to deserve such a murder. My sister was taken. I know what those men are doing to her. I can't sleep at night thinking about it, thinking about her terror.

"I want to fight back. I want to kill these evil men. They've earned death. I want to grind them into dust, as you have said.

"I choose to join with you and fight to gain my freedom. I want to live free. I want those I love to live free."

Kahlan was stunned to hear one of them say such things, especially without first consulting with the rest of the men. She had watched the eyes of the other men as Anson spoke. They all listened keenly to everything Anson said.

Richard smiled as he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Welcome to D'Hara, Anson. Welcome home. We can use your help." He pointed off at Cara and Tom picking up the weapons they'd brought to show the men.

"Why don't you help them take those things back down to our camp."

Anson grinned his agreement. The soft-spoken young man had broad shoulders and a thickly muscled neck. He was genial, but looked determined.

If she were in the Imperial Order, Kahlan would not want to see such a powerfully built man coming after her.

Anson eagerly tried to take the load from Cara's arms. She wouldn't relinquish it, so he picked up the rest of the things and followed Tom down the hill. Jennsen went along, too, pulling Betty behind by her rope, tugging for the first few steps because Betty wanted them to stay with Richard and Kahlan.

The other men watched as Anson started down the hill with Cara, Tom, and Jennsen. They then moved off to the side, away from the statue, while they whispered among themselves, deciding what they would do.

Richard glanced at the figure of Kaja-Rang before starting down the hill. Something seemed to catch his eye.

"What's the matter?" Kahlan asked.

Richard pointed. "That writing. On the face of the pedestal, below his feet."

Kahlan knew there had been no writing in that spot before, and she was still too far away to really tell if she could see writing in the flecked granite. She glanced back to see the others making their way down the hill, but instead followed Richard when he started toward the statue. The men were still off to the side, busily engaged in their discussion.

She could see the spot on the face of the pedestal where the warning beacon had shattered. The sand from inside the statue representing Richard was still splattered across the face of the pedestal.

As they got closer, she could hardly believe what she was beginning to see. It looked as if the sand had eroded the stone to reveal lettering. The words had not been there before; that much she was sure of.

Kahlan knew a number of languages, but she didn't know this one. She recognized it, though. It was High D'Haran.

She hugged her arms to herself in the chill wind that had come up. The somber clouds stirred restlessly. She peered around at the imposing mountains, many hidden by a dark shroud of fog. Swirling curtains of snow obscured other slopes in the distance. Through a small, brief opening in the wretched weather, the valley she could see off through the pass offered the promise of green and warmth.

And the Imperial Order.

Kahlan, close beside Richard, wished he would put a warm arm around her. She watched as he stared at the faint letters in the stone. He was being far too quiet for her peace of mind.

"Richard," she whispered, leaning close to him, "what does it say?"

Transfixed, he ran his fingers slowly, lightly over the letters, his lips soundlessly pronouncing the High D'Haran words.

"Wizard's Eighth Rule," Richard whispered in translation. "Taiga Vassternich."