"General, what I was trying to do tonight, talking to those people, was about trying to stop the killing. I'm trying to make it possible for peace and freedom to have a chance to take root for good.

"I know it sounds a paradox, but don't you see? If we behave with honor, then all those lands with integrity, who want peace and freedom, will join us. When they see we fight to stop the fighting, and not simply to conquer and dominate, or for plunder, they will be on our side, and the forces of peace will be invincible.

"For now, the aggressor makes the rules, and our only choice is to fight or submit, but…"

He sighed in frustration as he thumped his head back against the chair. He closed his eyes; he couldn't bear to meet the gaze of the wizard Merritt overhead. Menitt looked as if he were about to launch into a lecture on the folly of presumption.

He had just publicly declared his intention to rule the world, and for reasons his own followers thought were empty talk. He was suddenly beginning to feel hopelessly foolish. He was just a woods guide turned Seeker, not a ruler. Just because he had the gift he was starting to think he could make a difference. Gift. He didn't even know how to use his gift.

How could he be so arrogant as to think this would work? He was so tired he couldn't think straight. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept.

He didn't want to rule anyone, he just wanted it all to stop so he could be with Kahlan and live his life without any fighting. The night before with her had been bliss. That was all he wanted.

General Reibisch cleared his throat. "I've never fought for anything before, any reason, I mean, other than my bond. Maybe it's time I tried it your way."

Richard came off the back of the chair and frowned at the man. "Are you just saying that because you think that's what I want to hear?"

"Well," the general said as he picked with a thumbnail at the carvings of acorns along the edge of the desk, “the spirits know no one would believe this, but soldiers want peace more than most people, I'd expect. We just don't dare to dream about it because we see so much killing that we get to thinking it can't ever end, and if you dwell on it, you'll get soft, and getting soft gets you killed. If you act like you're keen for a fight, il gives your enemies pause, lest they give you a reason. Like the paradox you spoke of.

"Seeing all that fighting and killing makes you wonder if there's anything to you but doing as you're bidden, and killing people. Makes you wonder if you're some kind of monster, good for nothing else. Maybe that's what happened to those men who attacked Ebinissia; maybe they just finally gave in to the voice in their head.

"Maybe, like you say, if we can do this, the killing would finally stop." He pressed back a long splinter he had worked loose. "I guess a soldier always hopes that once he kills all the people who want to kill him, then he can try laying down his sword. The spirits know that no one hates fighting more than many of those who have do it." He let out a long sigh. "Ahh, but no one would believe that."

Richard smiled. "I believe it."

The general glanced up. "It's rare to find someone who understands the true cost of killing. Most either glorify or are repelled by it, never feeling the pain of infliction and the agony of responsibility. You're good at killing. I'm glad you don't relish it"

Richard's gaze left the general, and sought the consoling gloom of the shadows among the arches between marble columns. As he had told the assembled representatives, he was named in prophecy; in one of the oldest prophecies, in High D'Haran, he was called fuer grissa ost drauka: the bringer of death. He was thrice named: the one who could bring the place of the dead and the world of the living together by tearing the veil to the underworld; the one who brought the spirits of the dead forth, which he did when he used the magic of his sword and danced with death; and in its most base meaning, one who kills.

Berdine clapped Richard on the back, jarring his teeth and breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You didn't tell us you had found yourself a bride. I hope you plan on a bath before the wedding night, or she'll turn you out" The three women laughed.

Richard was surprised to find he had the energy to grin. "I'm not the only one who smells like a horse."

"If there's nothing else, Lord Rahl, I' d best see to a number of matters. ' General Reibisch straightened and scratched his rust-colored beard. “Just how many people do you expect there are we'll have to kill to have diis peace you speak of?" He smiled crookedly. "So I can know how much farther there is to go before I don't have to have guards watch my back when I lie down for a snooze."

Richard shared a long look with the man. "Maybe they'll come to their senses and surrender, and we won't have to fight."

General Reibisch grunted a cynical laugh. "If you don't mind. I think I'll have Ae men sharpen their swords, just in case." He peered up. "Do you know how many lands there are in the Midlands?"

Richard thought it over a moment. "As a matter of fact, I don't. Not all the lands are large enough to be represented in Aydindril, but many of those are still large enough to have men at arms. The queen will know. She'll join us soon, and be able to help."

Tiny specks of lamplight danced off his chain mail. "I'll start sweeps through the Palace Guard forces at once, tonight, before they have a chance to organize. Maybe it'll be nice and peaceful that way. I expect that before the night's over, though, at least one of the guard forces will try to bolt."

"Make sure there are enough men around the Nicobarese Palace. I don't want Lord General Brogan leaving the city. I don't trust that man, but I've given my word that he will have the same chance as all the rest."

"I'll see to it."

"And General, have the men be careful of his sister, Lunetta." Richard felt an odd sympathy for Tobias Brogan's sister, for her innocent-seeming heart. He liked her eyes. He steeled himself. "If they come out of their palace, intending to leave, have plenty of archers at strategic locations and in range. If she uses magic, don't take any chances by delay."

Richard already hated this. He had never had to commit men to a battle in which people could easily be hurt, or killed. He remembered what the Prelate had once told him: wizards had to use people to do what must be done.

General Reibisch eyed the silent Ulic and Egan, the gar, and the three women. He spoke to them past Richard. "A thousand men will be wide awake and a shout away, if you need them."

Cara's expression sobered after the general had gone. "You must sleep, Lord Rahl. As Mord-Sith, I know when a man is exhausted and about to fall over. You can make your plans to conquer the world tomorrow, after you have rested."

Richard shook his head. "Not yet. I have to write her a letter, first."

Berdine leaned against the desk beside Cara and folded her arms. "A love letter to your bride?"

Richard pulled open a drawer. "Something like that."

Berdine put on a coy smile. "Maybe we can help. We will tell you the proper things to say to keep her heart pounding and forget you need a bath."

Raina joined her sisters of the Agiel against the desk, adding an impish laugh that sparkled in her dark eyes. "We will give you lessons in being a proper mate. You and your queen will be happy to have us around for advice."

"And you had better listen to us," Berdine cautioned, "or we will teach her how to make you dance to her tune."

Richard tapped Berdine's leg, urging her to move aside so he could get at the drawers behind her. He found paper in the bottom one. "Why don't you go get some sleep," he said absently as he searched for a pen and ink. "You were riding hard, too, trying to catch me, and couldn't have gotten much more sleep than I did."