tg.stone of tears-第89部分

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　It　had　been　at　the　midsummer　festival；　several　years　ago；　the　first　summer　after　the　death　of　Cyrilla’s　mother。　The　first　summer　Cyrilla　had　been　queen。　The　first　summer；　too；　since　Kahlan　had　ascended　to　Mother　Confessor。
　
　That　Kahlan　had　bee　the　Mother　Confessor　at　such　a　young　age　spoke　of　both　the　strength　of　her　power　and　of　her　character。　And　perhaps　of　a　need。　Since　the　selection　was　made　in　secrecy；　Cyrilla　knew　little　about　the　succession　of　Confessors；　except　that　it　was　done　without　animosity　or　rivalry；　and　had　to　do　with　the　strength　of　power　weighed　against　age　and　training。
　
　To　the　people　of　the　Midlands；　age　was　irrelevant。　They　feared　Confessors　in　general；　regardless　of　age；　and　the　Mother　Confessor　in　particular。　They　knew　she　was　the　most　powerful　of　Confessors。　Unlike　most　people；　however；　Cyrilla　knew　that　power　in　and　of　itself　was　not　necessarily　something　to　fear；　and　Kahlan　had　always　been　fair。　She　had　never　sought　anything　but　peace。
　
　That　day　the　streets　of　Ebinissia；　the　Crown　city　of　Galea；　had　been　filled　with　festivities　of　every　sort。　Not　even　the　lowest　stableboy　had　failed　to　find　wele　at　the　tables　of　the　fair；　or　at　the　games；　or　around　the　musicians；　acrobats；　and　jugglers。
　
　Cyrilla；　as　queen；　had　presided　over　the　contests；　and　given　ribbons　to　the　victors。　She　had　never　seen　so　many　smiling　faces；　so　many　happy　people。　She　had　never　felt　so　contented　for　her　people；　or　been　made　to　feel　so　loved　by　them。
　
　That　night　there　was　a　royal　ball　at　the　palace。　The　great　hall　was　filled　with　nearly　four　hundred　people。　It　was　dazzling　to　see　everyone　in　their　most　elegant　dress。　Food　and　wine　were　arrayed　on　the　long　tables　in　abundant　and　stunning　variety　…　only　fitting　for　the　most　important　day　of　the　year。　It　was　grand　beyond　any　ball　that　had　e　before；　for　there　was　much　for　which　to　be　thankful。　It　was　a　time　of　peace　and　prosperity；　growth　and　promise；　new　life　and　bounty。
　
　The　music　trailed　off　in　thin；　discordant　notes；　and　the　loud　drone　of　the　gathering　fell　suddenly　dead　silent　as　the　the　Mother　Confessor　strode　purposefully　into　the　hall；　her　wizard　at　her　heels；　his　silver　robes　flying　behind。　Her　regal…looking　white　dress　stood　out　among　the　confusion　of　color　like　the　full　moon　among　the　stars。　Bright　color　and　fancy　dress　had　never　looked　so　unexpectedly　trivial。　Everyone　bowed　low　at　her　passing。　Cyrilla　waited　with　her　advisors　beside　the　table　on　which　sat　a　large；　cut…glass　bowl　of　spiced　wine。
　
　Kahlan　crossed　the　hushed　room；　followed　by　every　eye；　and　drew　to　a　halt　before　the　queen；　giving　a　prompt　bow　of　her　head。　Her　expression　was　as　still　as　ice。　She　didn’t　wait　for　the　formality　of　the　bow　to　her　office　to　be　returned。
　
　‘Queen　Cyrilla。　You　have　an　advisor　named　Drefan　Tross？’
　
　Cyrilla　held　her　open　hand　out　to　the　side。　This　is　he。’
　
　Kahlan’s　emotionless　gaze　moved　to　Drefan。　‘I　would　speak　with　you　in　private。’
　
　‘Drefan　Tross　is　a　trusted　advisor；’　Cyrilla　interrupted。　He　was　more　than　that。　He　was　a　man　she　was　very　fond　of；　a　man　she　was　just　beginning　to　fall　in　love　with。　‘You　may　speak　to　him　in　my　presence。’　She　didn’t　know　what　this　was　about；　but　thought　it　best　if　she　were　privy　to　it。　Confessors　did　not　interrupt　banquets　except　for　trouble。　‘This　is　neither　the　time　nor　place　to　conduct　business　of　this　sort；　Mother　Confessor；　but　if　it　cannot　wait；　then　let　it　be　done　and　finished　with　here　and　now。’
　
　She　thought　that　would　put　it　in　abeyance　until　a　more　appropriate　time。　Without　expression；　the　Mother　Confessor　considered　this　a　moment。　The　wizard　at　her　back　was　anything　but　expressionless。　He　appeared　quite　agitated；　in　fact。
　
　He　bent　toward　Kahlan　to　speak；　but　she　raised　her　hand　to　silence　him　before　he　could　begin。
　
　‘As　you　wish。　I　am　sorry；　Queen　Cyrilla；　but　it　cannot　wait。’　She　returned　her　attention　to　Drefan。　‘I　have　just　taken　the　confession　of　a　murderer。　In　his　confession；　he　also　revealed　himself　to　be　an　acplice　to　an　assassin。　He　named　you　as　that　assassin；　and　your　target　as　Queen　Cyrilla。’
　
　There　were　astonished　whispers　from　those　near　enough　to　overhear。　Drefan’s　face　went　red。　The　whispers　died　into　brittle　silence。
　
　Cyrilla　could　scarcely　follow　what　happened　next。　A　blink　of　the　eye　and　it　would　have　been　missed。　One　instant　Drefan　stood　as　he　had；　with　his　hand　in　his　gold　and　deep　blue　coat；　and　the　next　he　was　driving　a　knife　toward　the　Mother　Confessor。　Standing　tall；　she　moved　only　her　arm；　catching　his　wrist。　Seemingly　at　the　same　time；　there　was　a　violent　impact　to　the　air　…　thunder　but　no　sound。　The　cut…glass　bowl　shattered；　flooding　red　wine　over　the　table　and　floor。　Cyrilla　flinched　with　the　sudden　flash　of　pain　coursing　through　every　joint　in　her　body。　The　knife　clattered　to　the　floor。　Drefan’s　eyes　went　wide；　his　jaw　slack。
　
　‘Mistress；’　he　whispered　reverently。
　
　Cyrilla　was　numb　with　shock　to　see　a　Conffessor　use　her　power。　She　knew　only　of　its　aftereffects；　arid　had　never　seen　it　being　used。　Few　had。　The　magic　seemed　still　to　sizzle　in　the　air　a　long　moment。
　
　The　crowd　pressed　closer。　A　warning　glare　from　the　wizard　changed　their　curiosity　to　timidity；　and　they　moved　back。
　
　Kahlan　looked　drained；　but　her　voice　betrayed　no　weakness。　‘You　intended　to　assassinate　the　queen？’
　
　‘Yes；　Mistress；’　he　said　eagerly；　licking　his　lips。
　
　‘When？’
　
　Tonight。　In　the　confusion　when　the　guests　were　departing。’　Drefan　looked　to　be　in　torment。　Tears　welled　up　and　ran　down　his　cheeks。　‘Please；　Mistress；　mand　me。　Tell　me　what　you　wish。　Let　me　carry　out　your　mand。’
　
　Cyrilla　was　still　in　shock。　This　was　what　had　been　done　to　her　father。　This　was　how　he　had　been　taken　as　a　mate　to　a　Confessor。　First　her　father；　and　now　a　man　she　held　dear。
　
　‘Wait　in　silence；’　Kahlan　ordered。　Hands　hanging　at　her　sides；　she　turned　to　Cyrilla；　her　young　eyes　now　heavy　with　sorrow。　‘Forgive　me　for　disturbing　your　celebration；　Queen　Cyrilla；　but　I　feared　the　results　of　delay。’
　
　Her　face　burning；　Cyrilla　twisted　to　face　Drefan。　He　stood　gaping　at　Kahlan。　‘Who　ordered　this；　Drefan！　Who　ordered　you　kill　me！’
　
　He　didn’t　even　seem　to　be　aware　she　had　spoken。
　
　‘He　will　not　answer　you；　Queen　Cyrilla；’　Kahlan　said。　‘He　will　only　answer　me。’
　
　‘Then　you　ask！’
　
　That　would　not　be　advisable；’　the　wizard　offered　quietly。
　
　Cyrilla　felt　a　fool。　Everyone　knew　of　her　fondness　for　Drefan。　Everyone　saw　now　that　she　had　been　duped。　No　one　would　ever　forget　this　midsummer　festival。
　
　‘Do　not　presume　to　advise　me！’
　
　Kahlan　leaned　closer　and　spoke　softly。　‘Cyrilla；　we　think　he　may　be　protected　by　a　spell。　When　I　asked　his　acplice　that　question；　he　died　before　he　could　answer。　But　I　believe　I　know　the　answer。　There　are　oblique　ways　of　getting　the　information　that　might　possibly　circumvent　the　spell。　If　I　could　take　him　somewhere　alone　and　question　him　in　my　own　way；　we　might　be　able　to　get　the　answer。’
　
　Cyrilla　was　near　tears　with　fury。　‘I　trusted　him！　He　was　close　to　me！　He　has　betrayed　me！　Me；　not　you！　I　will　know　who　sent　him！　I　will　hear　it　from　his　own　lips！　You　stand　in　my　kingdom；　in　my　home！　Ask　him！’
　
　Kahlan　straightened；　her　face　returning　to　the　calm　mask　that　showed　nothing。　‘As　you　wish。’　She　redirected　her　attention　to　Drefan。　‘Was　what　you　intended　to　do　to　the　queen　of　your　own　volition？’
　
　He　dry…washed　his　hands　in　anxious　anticipation　of　pleasing　the　Mother　Confessor。　‘No；　Mistress。　I　was　sent。’
　
　If　it　was　possible；　Kahlan’s　face　seemed　to　bee　even　more　placid。　‘Who　sent　you？’
　
　One　hand　rose；　and　his　mouth　opened；　as　if　in　an　attempt　to　do　her　bidding。　All　that　came　from　his　throat　was　a　gurgle　of　blood　before　he　collapsed。
　
　The　wizard　gave　a　knowing　grunt。　‘As　I　thought：　the　same　as　the　other。’
　
　Kahlan　picked　up　the　knife　and　offered　it　handle…first　to　Cyrilla。　‘We　believe　there　to　be　a　conspiracy　of　great　magnitude　brewing。　Whether　or　not　this　man　was　part　of　it　I　don’t　know；　but　he　was　sent　by　Kelton。’
　
　‘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