"I am committed to wed the queen of Galea."

"Even so, if she were alive, she could help you." Brogan stroked the scar at the side of his mouth as he fixed his eyes on the man behind the desk. “Do you think it possible, Lord Rahl, that she be alive?"

“I was not here at the time, but I am told that perhaps thousands of people saw her beheaded. They think she is dead. While I admit that were she alive she would be an invaluable help as my ally, that is not the point. The point is, are you able to offer me one good reason why all those people are wrong?"

"Well, no, but I think — "

Lord Rah] slammed a fist to the desk. Even the two huge guards jumped. "I've had enough of this! Do you think I am stupid enough to be diverted from the cause of peace by this speculation? Do you think I will grant you some special privilege because you would think to offer me suggestions to win over the people of the Midlands? I told you, there are no special favors! You will be treated the same as every other land!"

Tobias licked his lips. "Of course, Lord Rahl. That wasn't my intention — "

"If you continue on with this quest to find a woman whom thousands saw beheaded, at the expense of your charge to chart the future course of your land, then you are going to end up on the point of my sword."

Tobias bowed. "Of course, Lord Rahl. We will leave at once for our homeland with your message."

"You are doing no such thing. You are going to remain right here,"

"But, I must deliver your message to the king."

"Your king is dead." Lord Rahl cocked an eyebrow. "Or did you mean that you were going to go chasing his shadow, too, in the belief that he might be hiding out with the Mother Confessor?"

Lunetta chuckled. Brogan darted her a glance and the laugh cut off abruptly. Brogan realized his smile had vanished. He managed to bring a hint of it back.

"A new king will no doubt be named. That is the way of our land: to be led by a king. It was to him, the new king, that I was going to take the message, Lord Rahl."

"Since any king that was named would no doubt be your puppet, the journey is unnecessary. You will remain at your palace until you decide to accept my terms, and surrender."

Brogan's smile widened. "As you wish, Lord Rahl."

He began to draw his knife from the sheath at his belt. Instantly, one of the Mord-Sith had a red rod an inch from his face. He froze.

Looking up into her blue eyes, he feared to move. "A custom of my land, Lord Rahl. I meant no threat. I was going to surrender my knife to you, to show my intent to comply with your wishes and remain at the palace. It be a way of giving my word, a symbol of my sincerity. Would you permit me?"

The woman didn't take her blue eyes from his. "It's all right, Berdine," Lord Rahl said to the woman.

She withdrew, but only with great reluctance, and a venomous glare. Brogan slowly pulled the knife free and gently placed it, handle first, on the edge of the desk. Lord Rahl took the knife and set it aside.

"Thank you, General." Brogan held his hand out, palm up. "What's this?"

"The custom, Lord Rahl. In my land, the custom is that when you ceremonially surrender your knife, in order to avoid dishonor the person you surrender it to gives you a coin in return, silver for silver, as a symbolic act of good will and peace."

Lord Rahl, his eyes never leaving Brogan, considered it a moment, and at last leaned back and drew a silver coin from his pocket. He slid it across the desk. Brogan reached up, took the coin, and then slipped it into his coat pocket, but not before he saw the strike: the Palace of the Prophets.

Tobias bowed. "Thank you for honoring my customs, Lord Rahl. If there is nothing else, then I will retire to consider your words."

"As a matter of fact, there is one more thing. I heard that the Blood of the Fold holds no favor with magic." He leaned a little closer. "So why is it you have a sorceress with you?"

Brogan looked over at the squat figure beside him. "Lunetta? Why, she be my sister, Lord Rahl. She travels with me everywhere. I love her dearly, gift and all. If I were you, I would not put great weight to the words of Duchess Lumholtz. She be Keltish, and I hear they be thick with the Order."

"I have heard it elsewhere, too, from those who are not Keltish."

Brogan shrugged. He wished he could get his hands on that cook so he could cut out her wagging tongue.

"You have asked to be judged by your actions, and not by what others say of you. Would you deny me the same? What you hear is beyond my control, but my sister has the gift, and I would not have it otherwise."

Lord Rahl leaned back in his chair, his eyes as penetrating as ever. "There were Blood of the Fold among the Imperial Order's army that butchered those at Ebinissia."

"As well as D'Harans." Brogan lifted an eyebrow. "Those who attacked Ebinissia are all dead. The offer you made tonight is to be a fresh start, is it not? Everyone given the opportunity to make the commitment to your offer of peace?

Lord Rahl nodded slowly. "It is. One last thing, General. I have fought the Keeper's minions, and I will continue to do so. In doing battle with them, I have discovered that they don't need shadows to conceal them. They can be the last person you would expect, and worse, can do the Keeper's bidding without even realizing they are doing so."

Brogan bowed his head. "I, too, have heard it is so."

"Make sure the shadow you chase is not the one you cast."

Brogan frowned. He had heard a great many things from Lord Rahl that he did not like, but this was the first he did not understand. "I am very sure of the evil I pursue, Lord Rahl. Fear not for my safety."

Brogan began to turn away, but then halted and looked over his shoulder. "And may I offer my congratulations to you on your engagement to the Galean queen… I do believe I am becoming addled. I can't seem to keep names in my head. Forgive me. What was her name?

"Queen Kahlan Amnell."

Brogan bowed. "Of course. Kahlan Amnell. I will not forget it again."

Richard stared at the tall mahogany door after it had closed. It was refreshing to see a person with such a guileless nature that she would come to the Confessors' Palace, among so many important, finely dressed people, wearing an outfit made of tattered patches of different-colored cloth. Everyone must have thought her mad. Richard looked down at his simple, filthy clothes. He wondered if they thought him mad, too. Maybe he was.

"Lord Rahl," Cara asked, "how did you know she was a sorceress?"

"She was shrouded in her Han. Couldn't you see it in her eyes?"

Her red leather creaked as she leaned a hip against the desk beside him. "We would know a woman to be a sorceress if she tried to use her power on us, but not before. What is Han?"

Richard wiped a hand across his face as he yawned. "Her inner power — the force of life. Her magic."

Cara shrugged. "You have magic, so you could see it. We could not"

His thumb stroked the hilt of his sword as he answered with an absent grunt.

Over time, without realizing it, he had come to an awareness of the aspect of magic in a person — if they were using their magic, he could usually see it in their eyes. Though singular to each person, or perhaps the specific nature of their magic, there was a commonality Richard could recognize. Maybe, as Cara said, it was because he had the gift, or maybe it was simply the experience of having seen the distinctive, timeless look in the eyes of so many people with magic: Kahlan, Adie the bone woman, Shota the witch woman, Du Chaillu the spirit woman of the Baka Ban Mana, Darken Rahl, Sister Verna, Prelate Annalina, and countless other Sisters of the Light.