CHAPTER 25

Richard spun around. "Nicholas? You heard him say that name?"

Owen blinked in surprise. "Yes. I'm sure of it. He said Nicholas."

Kahlan felt a weary hopelessness settle over her, like the cold, wet mist.

Richard gestured urgently. "Go on."

"Well, I wasn't sure that they were talking about you-about the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor-when the commander said 'them, but by the grim excitement in their voices I had the impression that it was so. Their voices reminded me of the first time the Order came, at the way Luchan smiled at me in a way I had never seen before, like he might eat me.

"I thought that this information was my best chance to find you. So I started out at once."

Borne on a light gust, drizzle replaced the morning mist. Kahlan realized that she was shivering with the cold.

Richard pointed at the man sitting on the ground not far away, the man with the notch in his right ear, the man Kahlan had touched. Some of the storm within Richard boiled to the surface.

"There is the man the orders from Nicholas were sent to. He brought with him those men you saw at our last camp. Had we not defended ourselves, had we put our own sincere hatred of violence above the nature of reality, we would be as lost as Marilee."

Owen stared at the man. "What is his name?"

"I don't know and it doesn't matter to me in the least. He fought for the Imperial Order-fought to uphold a view of all life, including his, as unimportant, interchangeable, expendable in the mindless pursuit of an ideal that holds individual lives as worthless in themselves-a tenet that demands sacrifice to others until you are nothing.

"He fights for the dream of everybody to be nobody and nothing.

"The beliefs of the Order hold that you had no right to love Marilee, that everyone is the same and so your duty should be to marry someone who could best use your help. In that way, through selfless sacrifice, you would properly serve your fellow man. Despite how you struggle not to see what's before your eyes, Owen, I think somewhere beneath all your regurgitated teachings, you know that that is the greatest horror brought by the Order-not their brutality, but their ideas. It is their beliefs that sanction brutality, and yours that invite it.

"He didn't value his own life, who he was; why should I care what his name was. I give him what was his greatest ambition: nothingness."

When Richard saw Kahlan shivering in the cold drizzle, he withdrew his hot glare from Owen and retrieved her cloak from her pack in the wagon. With the utmost gentleness and care, he wrapped it around her shoulders. By the look on his face, he seemed to have had all he could take of listening to Owen.

Kahlan seized his hand, holding it to her cheek for a moment. There was some small good in the story they had heard from Owen.

"This means that the gift isn't killing you, Richard," she said in a confidential tone. "It was the poison."

She was relieved that they hadn't run out of time to get him help, as she had so feared on that brief, eternal wagon ride when he'd been unconscious.

"I had the headaches before I ran into Owen. I still have the headaches. The sword's magic as well faltered before I was poisoned."

"But at least this now gives us more time to find the solutions to those problems."

He ran his fingers back through his hair. "I'm afraid we have worse problems, now, and not the time you think."

"Worse problems?"

Richard nodded. "You know the empire Owen comes from? Ban-dakar? Guess what 'Bandakar' means."

Kahlan glanced at Owen sitting hunched on the crate and all by himself.

She shook her head as her gaze returned to Richard's gray eyes, troubled more by the suppressed rage in his voice than anything else.

"I don't know, what?"

"In High D'Haran it's a name. It means 'the banished. Remember from the book, The Pillars of Creation, when I was telling you what it said about how they decided to send all the pristinely ungifted people away to the Old World-to banish them? Remember that I said no one ever knew what became of them?

"We just found out.

"The world is now naked before the people of the Bandakaran Empire."

Kahlan frowned. "How can you know for certain that he is a descendant of those people?"

"Look at him. He's blond and looks more like full-blooded D'Harans than he does the people down here in the Old World. More importantly, though, he's not affected by magic."

"But that could be just him."

Richard leaned in closer. "In a closed place like he comes from, a place shut off from the rest of the world for thousands of years, even one pillar of Creation would have spread that ungifted trait throughout the entire population by now.

"But there wasn't just one; they were all ungifted. For that, they were banished to the Old World, and in the Old World, where they tried to establish a new life, they were again all collected and banished to that place beyond those mountains-a place they were told was for the bandakar, the banished."

"How did the people in the Old World find out about them? How did they keep them all together, without a single one surviving to spread their ungifted trait to the general population, and how did they manage to then put them all in that place-banish them?"

"Good questions, all, but right now not the important ones.

"Owen," Richard called as he turned back to the others, "I want you to stay right there, please, while the rest of us decide what will be our single voice about what we must do."

Owen brightened at a method of doing things with which he identified and felt comfortable. He didn't seem to detect, as did Kahlan, the undercurrent of sarcasm in Richard's voice.

"You," Richard said to the man Kahlan had touched, "go sit beside him and see that he waits there with you."

While the man scurried to do as he was told, Richard tilted his head in gesture to the rest of them, calling them away with him. "We need to talk."

Friedrich, Tom, Jennsen, Cara, and Kahlan followed Richard away from Owen and the man. Richard leaned back against the chafing rail of the wagon and folded his arms as they all gathered close around him. He took time to appraise each face looking at him.

"We have big problems," Richard began, "and not just from the poison Owen gave me. Owen isn't gifted. He's like you, Jennsen. Magic doesn't touch him." His gaze remained locked on Jennsen's. "The rest of his people are the same as he, as you."

Jennsen's jaw fell open in astonishment. She looked confused, as if unable to reconcile it all in her mind. Friedrich and Tom looked nearly as startled. Cara's brow drew down in a dark frown.

"Richard," Jennsen finally said, "that just can't be. There's too many of them. There's no way that they can all be half brothers and sisters of ours."

"They aren't half brothers and sisters," Richard said. "They're a line of people descended from the House of Rahl-people like you. I don't have time right now to explain all of it to you, but remember how I told you that you would bear children who were like you, and they would pass that pristinely ungifted trait on to all future generations? Well, back a long time ago, there were people like that spreading in D'Hara. The people back then gathered up all these ungifted people and sent them to the Old World.

The people down here then sealed them away beyond those mountains, there.

The name of their empire, Bandakar, means 'the banished. »

Jennsen's big blue eyes filled with tears. She was one of those people, people so hated that they had been banished from the rest of the people in their own land and sent into exile.

Kahlan put an arm around her shoulders. "Remember how you said that you felt alone in the world?" Kahlan smiled warmly. "You don't have to feel alone anymore. There are people like you."