tg.stone of tears-第112章

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　‘Kelton！　I　refuse　to　believe　that。’
　
　Kahlan　nodded　at　the　knife　in　Cyrilla’s　hand。　‘The　knife　is　Keltish。’
　
　‘Many　people　carry　weapons　forged　in　Kelton。　They　are　some　of　the　finest　made。　That　is　hardly　proof　enough　for　such　an　accusation。’
　
　Kahlan　stood　unmoving。　Cyrilla　was　too　upset　at　that　moment　to　wonder　what　thoughts　could　have　been　going　on　behind　those　green　eyes。　Kahlan’s　voice　finally　came　without　emotion。　‘My　father　taught　me　that　the　Keltans　will　strike　for　only　two　reasons。　First　out　of　jealousy；　and　second　when　they　are　tempted　by　weakness。　He　said　that　either　way；　they　will　always　first　test　by　trying　to　kill　the　strongest；　highest…ranking；　of　their　opponents　they　can。　Galea　is　now　the　strongest　it　has　ever　been；　thanks　to　you；　and　the　midsummer　festival　is　the　mark　of　that　strength。　You　are　the　cause　of　that　jealousy；　and　a　symbol　of　that　strength。
　
　‘My　father　also　said　that　you　must　always　keep　an　eye　to　the　Keltans；　and　never　offer　them　your　back。　He　said　that　if　you　thwart　them　in　the　first　attempt；　it　deepens　their　hunger　for　your　blood；　and　they　will　always　lie　in　wait　for　any　weakness　so　they　may　strike。’
　
　Cyrilla’s　smoldering　rage　at　being　beguiled　by　Drefan　made　her　lash　out　without　considering　her　words。　‘I　would　not　know　what　our　father　said。　I　never　had　the　benefit　of　his　teachings。　He　was　taken　from　us　by　a　Confessor。’
　
　Kahlan’s　face　transformed　from　the　calm；　cold　blankness　of　a　Confessor　to　a　look　of　ageless；　knowing　benevolence　that　seemed　well　beyond　her　years。
　
　‘Perhaps；　Queen　Cyrilla；　the　good　spirits　chose　to　spare　you　the　things　he　would　have　taught　you；　and　had　him　teach　me　instead。　Be　thankful　they　have　looked　kindly　upon　you。　I　doubt　the　things　he　taught　would　have　brought　you　any　joy。　They　bring　me　none；　save　perhaps　that　they　have　helped　me　preserve　your　life　this　night。　Please　do　not　be　bitter。　Be　at　peace　with　yourself；　and　cherish　what　you　do　have：　the　love　of　your　people。　They　are　your　family；　one　and　all。’
　
　Kahlan　started　to　turn　away；　but　Cyrilla　gently　caught　her　arm　and　drew　her　aside　as　men　bent　to　carry　the　body　from　the　hall。
　
　‘Kahlan；　forgive　me。’　Her　fingers　worked　a　ribbon　at　her　waist。　‘I　have　wrongly　directed　my　anger　over　Drefan　to　you。’
　
　‘I　understand；　Cyrilla。　In　your　place；　I　would　probably　have　reacted　the　same。　I　could　see　your　feelings　for　Drefan　in　your　eyes。　I　would　not　expect　you　to　be　happy　over　what　I　have　just　done。　Forgive　me　for　bringing　anguish　to　your　home　on　a　day　that　should　be　only　joyful；　but　I　greatly　feared　the　results　of　delay。’
　
　Kahlan　had　made　her　feel　like　the　younger　sister。　She　looked　anew　at　the　tall；　beautiful　young　woman　standing　before　her。　Kahlan　was　of　the　age　to　have　a　mate。　Perhaps　she　had　already　chosen　one；　for　all　she　knew。　Her　mother　must　have　been　about　this　old　when　she　took　Cyrilla’s　father　as　hers。　So　young。
　
　Looking　into　those　depthless　green　eyes；　Cyrilla　let　go　of　some　of　her　anger　over　Drefan。　This　young　woman；　her　sister；　had　just　saved　her　life；　knowing　full　well　it　would　bring　no　thanks；　and　would　probably　earn　her　only　deeper　fear；　and　possibly　undying　hatred；　from　her　half　sister。　So　young。　Cyrilla　felt　shame　at　her　own　selfishness。
　
　She　smiled　at　Kahlan　for　the　first　time。　‘Surely；　the　things　Wyborn　taught　you　weren’t　all　grim？’
　
　‘He　taught　me　only　killing。　Whom　to　kill；　when　to　kill；　and　how　to　kill。　Be　thankful　you　know　no　more　of　his　lessons；　and　that　you　have　never　needed　what　he　taught。　I　have；　and　I　fear　I　have　only　begun　to　use　what　he　taught　me。’
　
　Cyrilla　frowned。　Kahlan　was　a　Confessor；　not　a　killer。　‘Why　would　you　say　such　a　thing？’
　
　‘We　believe　we　have　uncovered　a　conspiracy。　I　will　not　speak　of　it　until　I　know　its　nature；　and　have　proof；　but　I　think　it　may　bring　a　storm　beyond　any　you　or　I　have　ever　seen　before。’
　
　Cyrilla　touched　her　sister’s　cheek；　the　only　time　in　her　life　she　had　ever　done　so。　‘Kahlan；　please　stay？　Enjoy　at　my　side　what　is　left　of　the　festival？　I　would　love　to　have　you　with　me。’
　
　Kahlan’s　face　returned　to　the　calm　mask　of　a　Confessor。　‘I　cannot。　It　would　only　ruin　your　people’s　light　heart　to　have　me　present。　Thank　you　for　the　offer；　but　you　should　be　able　to　enjoy　your　day　with　your　people；　without　my　spoiling　it　further。’
　
　‘Nonsense。　It　would　spoil　nothing。’
　
　‘I　would　like　nothing　more　than　that　it　were　so；　but　it　is　not。　Remember　what　our　father　said：　keep　a　wary　eye　to　the　Keltans。　I　must　be　gone。　There　is　trouble　gathering　and　I　must　see　that　the　Confessors　find　its　cause。　Before　I　return　to　Aydindril　I　will　pay　a　visit　to　Kelton　and　deliver　my　suspicions；　and　a　warning　that　what　has　happened　not　be　repeated。　I　will　inform　the　council　of　the　trouble　of　this　day；　so　that　all　eyes　will　be　on　the　Keltans。’
　
　What　did　they　teach　in　Aydindril　that　could　turn　what　looked　to　be　porcelain　to　iron？
　
　Thank　you；　Mother　Confessor’　was　all　she　had　been　able　to　say；　to　offer　her　sister　the　honor　of　her　office；　as　she　watched　her　stride　off；　her　wizard　in　tow。　That　had　been　the　most　intimate　conversation　she　had　ever　had　with　her　half　sister。　The　midsummer　festival　had　not　held　much　joy　for　her　after　Kahlan　had　left。　So　young；　yet　so　old。
　
　At　the　council　today；　Cyrilla　had　been　surprised　to　find　that　the　Mother　Confessor　was　not　presiding　over　the　council。　No　one　knew　where　she　was。　It　was　to　be　expected　she　would　have　been　absent　when　Aydindril　fell；　she　was　frequently　gone　in　her　capacity　as　a　Confessor；　and　had　probably　been　doing　what　she　could　to　halt　the　threat　from　D’Hara。　All　the　Confessors　had　fiercely　fought　the　hordes　from　D’Hara。　She　was　sure　Kahlan　would　have　done　no　less；　using　in　part　what　her　father　had　taught　her。
　
　But　that　she　had　not　immediately　returned　to　Aydindril　when　D’Hara　withdrew　was　worrisome。　Perhaps　she　had　not　yet　had　time　to　return。　Cyrilla　feared　Kahlan　might　have　been　killed　at　the　hands　of　a　quad。　D’Hara　had　sentenced　all　the　Confessors　to　death；　and　hunted　them　relentlessly。　Galea　had　offered　refuge　to　the　Confessors；　but　the　quads；　implacable；　and　without　mercy；　had　found　them　anyway。
　
　Worse；　absent　the　Mother　Confessor；　there　had　not　been　a　wizard　overseeing　the　council　meeting。　Cyrilla’s　flesh　had　prickled　with　apprehension　at　seeing　no　wizard。　She　recognized　that　the　absence　of　a　Confessor　and　a　wizard　created　a　dangerous　vacuum　in　the　council　chambers。
　
　But　when　she　saw　who　presided　over　the　council　session；　her　apprehension　sharpened　to　alarm。　Sitting　in　the　first　chair　was　High　Prince　Fyren；　of　Kelton。　The　very　man　she　had　e　to　seek　deliverance　from　sat　in　judgment。　To　see　him　sitting　in　the　chair　that　had　always　belonged　only　to　the　Mother　Confessor　was　startling。
　
　The　council；　it　would　seem；　had　not　been　put　back　to　the　way　it　should　have　been。
　
　Nonetheless；　she　ignored　him　and　instead　pressed　her　demands　to　the　rest　of　the　council。　In　turn；　Prince　Fyren　stood　and　accused　her　of　treason　against　the　Midlands。　He　had　the　unmitigated　gall　to　accuse　her　of　the　very　thing　of　which　he　was　guilty。
　
　Further；　Prince　Fyren　assured　the　council　that　Kelton　was　mitting　no　aggression　but　was　acting　only　in　self…defense　against　a　greedy　neighbor。　In　a　tirade；　he　lectured　them　on　the　evils　of　women　in　positions　of　power。　The　council　took　his　word　for　everything。　They　allowed　her　to　present　no　evidence。
　
　She　stood　stunned　and　speechless　as　the　council　heard　Fyren’s　charges；　and　without　pause　found　her　guilty；　sentencing　her　to　be　beheaded。
　
　Where　was　Kahlan？　Where　were　the　wizards？
　
　Lady　Bevinvier’s　vision　had　proven　true。　Cyrilla　should　have　listened；　or　at　least　taken　some　precaution。　Kahlan’s　warning；　too；　had　proven　true；　Kelton　had　first　tried　to　strike　out　of　jealousy；　and　now；　years　later；　they　had　renewed　the　attack　when　they　saw　tempting　weakness。
　
　The　Galean　guard　stood　in　the　great　courtyard；　ready　to　immediately　escort　Cyrilla　home。　She　had　needed　to　set　about　readying　Galea’s　defenses　until　the　forces　expected　to　be　sent　by　the　council　could　arrive。　But　it　was　not　to　be。
　
　At　the　pronouncement　of　sentence；