e plex bands of dentil moldings that ran in mitered bands over the tops of the capitals。 The center landing held statues of eight Mother Confessors。 Kahlan had seen modest palaces that would fit within the space the staircase occupied。
The monumental staircase and the room that held it had taken forty years to build； the expense borne entirely by Kelton； in partial repense for their opposition to the joining of the lands into the Midlands； and the war it spawned。 It was also decreed that no leader of Kelton could ever be honored with a medallion at the base of the columns。 The staircase was dedicated to the people of the Midlands； and was to honor them； not those who built it as penalty。 Kelton was now a powerful land of the Midlands in good standing； and Kahlan thought it foolish to rebuke a people for something their ancestors had done centuries ago。
As she reached the central landing and turned up the second flight toward her room； she saw a phalanx of servants waiting at the top of the stairs。 They all bowed as one when her eyes fell on them。 She thought it must look absurd …nearly thirty sparkling； bed and buffed people in clean； crisp uniforms； all bowing to a filthy woman in wolf hides； carrying a bow and heavy pack。 Well； this could only mean one thing： word of her arrival had swept through the whole of the palace already。 There wasn’t likely to be a gardener in the farthest greenhouse that didn’t by now know the Mother Confessor was home。
‘Rise； my children；’ Kahlan said when she reached the top of the stairs。 They moved back to make way for her。
And then it started。 Would the Mother Confessor like a bath； would the Mother Confessor like a massage； would the Mother Confessor like her hair washed and brushed； would the Mother Confessor like her nails buffed； would the Mother Confessor care to take any petitioners； would the Mother Confessor like to see any advisors； would the Mother Confessor like any letters written； would the Mother Confessor like； wish； want； need； or require a whole list of things。
Kahlan addressed the mistress of the maidservants。 ‘Berna…dette； I would like a bath。 Nothing else。 Just a bath。’
Two women rushed off to see to the bath。
Mistress Bernadette’s eyes made an involuntary flick down at Kahlan’s attire。 ‘Would the Mother Confessor like to have any of her clothes mended； or cleaned？’
Kahlan thought about the blue dress in her pack。 ‘I guess I have a few things that need cleaning。’ She thought about all the rest of her clothes； most soaked with blood from one battle or another。 ‘I guess I have a lot of things that need to be washed。’
‘Yes； Mother Confessor。 And would you like me to lay out your white dress for tonight？’
‘Tonight？’
Mistress Bernadette reddened。 ‘Runners have already been sent to Kings Row； Mother Confessor。 Everyone will want to wele the Mother Confessor home。’
Kahlan groaned。 She was dead tired。 She didn’t want to greet people； just to tell women how fine their hair looked all pinned and decorated； or men how fine the cut of their coat was； or to listen patiently to supplications that invariably involved the distribution of funds and always sought to prove that the appellant was in no way seeking advantage； but only relief from the inequitable situation in which he was mired。
Mistress Bernadette gave her a corrective look； as she had done when Kahlan was little； as if to say； ‘Look here； young lady； you have obligations； and I expect no trouble about it。’
What she said； though； was ‘Everyone has been fraught with concern over the safe return of the Mother Confessor。 It would do their hearts good to see you safe and well。’
Kahlan doubted that。 What Mistress Bernadette really meant was that it would do Kahlan good to remind people that the Mother Confessor was still alive and in charge。 Kahlan sighed。 ‘Of course； Bernadette。 Thank you for reminding me people have kept me in their hearts and been worried。’
Mistress Bernadette smiled as she bowed her head。 ‘Yes； Mother Confessor。’
As the rest of the servants rushed off； Kahlan leaned toward Mistress Bernadette。 ‘I remember when you would have added a swat on my behind for having to remind me of things。’
Mistress Bernadette’s smile returned。 ‘I think you are too smart； now； for that； Mother Confessor。’ She rubbed an invisible spot from the back of her hand。 ‘Mother Confessor 。。。 did you bring any of the other Confessors home with you？ Will any of the others be returning； soon？’
Kahlan’s features slid into her Confessor’s face； as her mother had taught her。 ‘I’m sorry； Bernadette； I thought you knew。 They are all dead。 I am the last living Confessor。’
Mistress Bernadette’s eyes filled with tears as she whispered a prayer。 ‘May the good spirits be with them always。’
‘Why should they mence now；’ Kahlan said tersely。 They didn’t bother to be with Dennee the day the quad caught her。’
The fireplaces in her rooms were all blazing； as she had known they would be； and would have been every day she had been away； month after month。 The fires in the Mother Confessor’s rooms would never be allowed to go out in the winter； in case she returned。 There was a silver tray on a table； with a fresh loaf of bread； a pot of tea； and a steaming bowl of spice soup。 Mistress Sanderholt knew spice soup was her favorite。
Spice soup reminded Kahlan of Richard； now。 She remembered making it for him； and he for her。
After dropping her pack and bow to the floor； Kahlan crossed the plush carpets and went into the next room。 She stood； idly rubbing her fingers on one of the great； polished posts at the foot of her bed； staring； remembering that she was supposed to be here with Richard。 The day they arrived in Aydindril they were to already have been wed。 She had promised him this big bed。
Kahlan remembered the joy in her heart the day they talked about being wed and ing to Aydindril as husband and wife。 She felt a tear roll down her cheek。 She gasped a deep breath against the hot pain that burned through her chest； and wiped the tear away with her fingertips。
Kahlan went to the glassed doors； opening them out onto the expansive balcony。 She put her trembling fingers to the broad； icy railing and stood in the cold air； looking up the mountainside to the Wizard’s Keep； its dark stone walls standing out in the last golden rays of the sunset。
‘Where are you； Zedd？’ she whispered。 ‘I need you。’
He came awake with a gasp as he slid and thumped his head。 He sat up； blinking。 An old woman with straight； black and white； jaw…length hair was sitting opposite him； cowering in a corner。 The two of them were inside a coach。 It rolled abruptly； sliding him across to the other side。 The woman was staring in his direction。 He blinked in surprise at her。 Her eyes were pletely white。
‘Who are you？’ he asked。
‘Who be you？’ she asked right back。
‘I asked first。’
‘I 。。。’ She drew her cloak around her fine； green dress。 ‘I don’t know who I be。 Who be you？’
He held a finger skyward。 ‘I’m 。。。 I’m 。。。’ He let out a thin sigh。 ‘I’m afraid I don’t know who I am； either。 Don’t I look like anyone you recognize？’
She pulled her cloak a little tighter。 ‘I do not know。 I be blind。 I cannot see what you look like。’
‘Blind？ Oh。 Well； I’m sorry。’
He rubbed his head where he had hit it on the side of the coach。 Looking down； he saw that he was wearing fine clothes； a maroon robe with black sleeves that had three rows of silver brocade around them。 Well； he thought； at least I must be wealthy。
He picked a black cane off the floor； giving its fine silver…work a look。 He turned and thumped it against the roof； in the direction of where the driver must be sitting； up top。 The old woman jumped with a fright。
‘What be that noise！’
‘Oh； sorry。 I was trying to get the driver’s attention。’
The driver must have heard。 The coach slid to a stop； and then rocked as someone climbed down。 When the door drew open and he saw the size of the man in a longcoat sti