"And how would we accomplish that?" his wife asked.

"A month of this voting business will enable the Order to get the rest of their advance guard in place. They can then take the Dominie Dirtch at their discretion. Lord Rahl's forces, even if he has them close, will be precluded from coming to the rescue of the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor, once they lose the people's support. Jagang will be invincible.

"The emperor gets a land and the people to work it, as promised, and we are handsomely rewarded for handing it to him. We will have unquestioned authority. No more Directors to worry about-ever again. We will rule Anderith for life, the way we choose, without worry of opposition."

Life, for the people of Anderith, would go on, Dalton knew. For the most part, the lives of many would be much the same, if poorer, serving the greater good of the Order. There would be the inevitable dislocations and deaths. Some would be taken away to serve the emperor. Most would be grateful just to live.

Dalton wondered at his own fate, if he had not become the trusted chief aide to the Minister, and thus by service and by necessity brought into the arrangement. He shuddered to think what might have become of Teresa.

"If he indeed honors his agreements," Hildemara muttered.

"The emperor, his forces having a safe haven immune from attack, will be only too happy to honor our agreements," Bertrand said. "What he promised us, in return for the task of seeing to it the people of Anderith work on as they do now, is vast beyond our ability to ever spend; to him, however, it is but a pittance compared to what he will gain. We must simply see to it the Order is supplied with food while they conquer the Midlands. He will happily pay as agreed."

Lady Chanboor huffed irritably. "But it will come to no good end when Lord Rahl gets the people to vote to join with him."

Bertrand chortled. "You must be joking. That, my dear, is the simplest part of the whole thing."

She folded her arms as if to demand to know how.

Dalton, too, was worried about that much of it. "So then, you have no intention of actually allowing the vote to take place?"

Bertrand looked from one to the other.

"Don't you see? We will easily win such a vote."

"Perhaps with the Anders," she said, "but the Hakens? You have placed our fate in the hands of the Hakens? Who outnumber us many times over? They will choose freedom."

"Hardly. The Hakens are kept ignorant. They don't have the capacity to comprehend the issues. They believe the only way they can attain anything, from work to food-even to joining the army-is by our benevolent hand. They believe what freedoms they have, or hope to have, can only be granted them by Anders. With freedom comes responsibility-not the easy path they would prefer."

His wife looked unmoved. "How can you be so sure?"

"We will have speakers go before the people, wringing their hands, shedding tears, expressing deep fear for what will become of the people at the mercy of the cruel D'Haran Empire, in the uncaring hands of a Lord Rahl who doesn't know the first thing about their needs as Hakens and only cares about his own dark magic. The Haken people will be so terrified of losing what crumbs we grant them they will shrink from the loaf before them-if we simply make them believe the loaf is poison."

Dalton's mind was already spinning with thoughts of how they might accomplish the Minister's plan. The true possibilities it presented were only just dawning on him.

"We must consider how to frame it properly," Dalton said. "It would be best if we remained completely out of it."

"My thought, exactly."

"Yes…" Hildemara drawled as she imagined, now caught up in the scheme. "We must appear as if we're looking to the people for direction, rather than the other way around."

"Others will speak the words we craft," Bertrand said as he nodded to her. "We must at all cost remain above it- look as if our hands are bound by a noble adherence to fairness, with our fate in the hands of the wisdom of the people, as if we put that principle and their wishes above all else."

"I have men who would be good at expressing the proper tone." Dalton stroked a finger beneath his lower lip. "Wherever Lord Rahl goes, those who speak for us must go behind, and deliver the message we fashion."

"That's right," Bertrand said. "A message more powerful, more cutting, more frightening."

Deep in thought, trying to envision all requisite elements of the strategy, Dalton waggled a finger. "Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor will bring swift and unpleasant action, should they suspect such a thing. In fact, it would be best if they never even knew of the things the people are told-at least in the beginning. Our messages must be delivered only after they have gone on to the next place.

"Let them offer hope. We will come behind and portray the hope of freedom they offer as lies-frighten people out of such thoughts."

Dalton knew how easily the minds of the people could be manipulated with the right words, especially if people were distracted by other matters and confused with contradictions.

"If done well, the people will resoundingly approve of us as we at the same time betray them." Dalton smiled at last. "When I get through with them, they will cheer us on to the task."

Bertrand took another swig of rum. "Now you're thinking like the man I hired."

"But when the people reject his offer," Hildemara said, "Lord Rahl will no doubt react badly to losing; he will turn to force."

"Possibly." Bertrand set down the goblet. "But by then the Order will have captured the Dominie Dirtch, and it will be too late for Lord Rahl to do anything about it. He and the Mother Confessor will be isolated, without hope of reinforcements."

"Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor will be trapped in Anderith…” She smiled at last, closing her clawed fingers into a fist. "And Jagang will have them."

Bertrand grinned. "And reward us." He turned to Dalton. "Where are the D'Haran troops billeted?"

"Between here and Fairfield,"

"Good. Let Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor have anything they want. Let them do whatever they wish. We must appear to be most accommodating."

Dalton nodded. "They said they wanted to see the library."

Bertrand swept up his goblet again. "Fine. Let them have the run of it-see what they wish. There is nothing in the library that could be of any help to them."

Richard turned to the ruckus.

"Shoo!" Vedetta Firkin yelled. The old woman cast her arms forward, adding physical threat to the verbal one she had already delivered. "Shoo, you thief!"

The raven out on the board attached to the windowsill leaped about, flapping its wings, loudly expressing its displeasure with her. She looked around and then snatched a stick up from where it leaned against the wall, ready to hand for propping the next window open. Wielding the stick like a sword, she leaned out the open window and swiped at the raven. Wings outstretched, neck plumage ruffed, feathers on its head lifted like horns, it hopped back and screeched at her.

Again she slashed at the big black bird. This time the raven made a strategic withdrawal to a nearby branch. From a position of safety, it delivered a boisterous lecture. She slammed the window shut.

Vedetta Firkin turned and, after setting down the stick, triumphantly brushed clean her hands. She lifted her nose as she returned to people business.

Richard and Kahlan had spoken with her when they came into the library in order to put her mind at ease. Richard wanted to insure her cooperation rather than have her perhaps get the notion that it was somehow her duty to hide books from them. She had responded brightly to their casual and friendly manner with her.

"Sorry," she whispered in low voice, as if to compensate for the yelling. She scurried closer to Richard and Kahlan.