Stone of Tears by Terry Goodkind
She had so often wished to be rid of it, but never realized what it would feel like to be without her magic. She cried out again. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the forsaken, vacant desolation. She felt naked before the mob of people.
She forced herself to stop the tears. She would not let these people see the Mother Confessor cry. No—she would not let these people see Kahlan Amnell cry.
Ranson drew Prince Fyren's sword from its scabbard. He stepped behind her. He took up her hair in his fist and pulled it out tight as she knelt on the cold floor.
With the sword, he sliced her hair off, close, right at the nape of her neck. The shearing felt almost as shocking to her as having her power taken. The hair Richard loved so. She bit back tears.
Neville Ranson held up the severed handful of her hair to wild cheering. Kahlan knelt, numbly staring at nothing, as soldiers tied her wrists behind her back. Ranson grasped her arm, under her shoulder, and hauled her to her feet.
"The first of it, then, Mother Confessor. You have been stripped of your power, and its symbol. As I promised you. Now to the rest of it."
Kahlan was silent, there was nothing to say, as Ranson and a cluster of grinning guards led her down through the Palace. She didn't pay any attention to where she was being taken. She was thinking about Richard, hoping he would remember her love for him. She lost herself in memories of him. She let the world around her go. She would soon let the world of life go, too. The good spirits had deserted her.
She was numb to what was happening. The emptiness of being without her power left her feeling half dead already. She had never known how much it meant to her, how much a part of her the magic was, until it was gone. She wondered if this dull bleakness was the way people without the power felt all the time. She couldn't imagine living without the magic.
She longed for death, now, to end this dead feeling. Only Richard had accepted her with her power. She never completely accepted it herself, but Richard had. Now it was too late. She grieved more for the loss of her magic than her life. She knew, now, what the other creatures of magic would feel, when it happened to them. She grieved for them.
Ranson's hand on her arm jerked her to a halt, jerked her to awareness, before an iron door in a dim corridor. One of the guards worked at a rusty lock on the iron door. Kahlan recognized the door. She had taken confessions down here.
"And now, to my second promise, Mother Confessor," Ranson said with a sneer. "You will be stripped of your dignity."
Kahlan gasped as his fist grabbed what was left of her hair and jerked her head back. As she was held helpless, her wrists bound painfully behind her back, and her hair in his fist, Ranson kissed her neck.
Right where Darken Rahl had kissed her neck.
The same horrors coursed through her mind as when Darken Rahl had done it. She shuddered with revulsion, with the horror of the visions. In her mind, she saw the young women in Ebinissia, only this time, she was one of them.
"I would rape you myself," Ranson whispered in her ear, "but I find your sense of honor disgusting."
The door squeaked open, and without any further word, Ranson shoved her through the doorway, into the pit.
59
Kahlan gasped at the feeling of falling through space, but before she had a chance to fully consider what would happen when she hit the floor, rough hands caught her. They pushed her down to the cold stone. She saw the light of the doorway above disappear when the door clanged closed. In the light of a sputtering torch in a bracket, she saw grinning men all about, pushing in at her.
The rope cut into her wrists. Her feelings of terror and helplessness gave way to desperate action. Kahlan kicked a man in the groin. She was on her back on the floor, so she had leverage to do damage. She rammed her heel into the face of another man leaning over her. He fell back with a cry. She kicked frantically at the others.
The grasping hands caught her ankles. She kicked her legs but the men held tight. She rolled to the side, breaking the grip, and skittered into a corner. Her freedom was only momentary. They seized her flailing legs again.
In the back of her mind, as she fought, Kahlan desperately tried to think. A spark of thought tried to get her attention. It was something about Zedd, but she couldn't think clearly.
The men fighting to get at her pushed her white dress up her legs. Hands pawed at her thighs. Big, meaty fingers hooked her smallclothes, stripping them down her legs and off her feet. She felt rough hands and cold air on her flesh. She fought the men and, at the same time, her own panic.
Two men were on the floor; one holding his crotch, the other sprawled out, blood gushing from his ruined face. His nose was crushed. There were ten others, all trying to get at her at once. They threw each other back, trying to force themselves on top of her, the biggest working his way in. Kahlan couldn't get her breath.
With frantic effort, the spark of thought sprang forth. She remembered asking Zedd if he could remove her power. She had wanted to be free of it so she could be with Richard. Zedd had told her that it wasn't possible to rid a Confessor of her power, that she was born with the magic, and it couldn't be separated from her as long as she was alive.
How could Ranson have stripped her of her power? Zedd was a wizard of the First Order; there was no wizard with more power than a wizard of the First Order. Why wouldn't Ranson have wanted to rape her first? He said she disgusted him. But he said he wanted to strip her of her dignity. Why wouldn't he want to do it?
Unless he were afraid.
Afraid she would figure it out. Figure what out?
It came to her. The Wizard's First Rule.
People would believe anything, if they wanted to believe. Or if they were afraid it was true. She was afraid it was true that he had stripped her of her power. Maybe he had used magic to give her pain, to try to trick her into believing what she feared.
As the men groped at her, she groped for her power. She tried to find the calmness, the place of her magic, but it just wasn't there. All she felt was emptiness. Where she always felt the swell of magic before, she now felt only a numb, hollow void.
She wanted to cry at the feel of the men's hands on her legs, and between them, but she couldn't allow herself to lose control, her only chance. Try as she might, she couldn't find the magic, couldn't call it forth. It was simply gone. She desperately wanted her hands free.
"Wait!" she screamed.
The men all stopped for a moment, their faces pulling back, looking at her. She gasped to catch her breath.
Talk, she ordered of herself, while you have the chance. "You're doing it all wrong!"
They laughed. "We think we'll figure it out," one said.
Kahlan struggled to control her fear, and think. They were going to do what they were going to do, and she couldn't stop them. Fighting them in this way was going to accomplish nothing, except to feed her panic. She had only one chance, and that was to use her head. She had to slow them down and give herself time to think.
"If you do it this way, you will just be denying yourselves the full satisfaction of it."
They frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If you're all fighting each other, and me, you won't be able to really enjoy me as a woman. Wouldn't it be more enjoyable if I cooperated?"
They all looked at one another. One to the side spoke up. "She has a point. The Queen wasn't nearly so much good after she went numb on us."
"Queen?" Kahlan asked. "What queen? You men are just bragging on me. You've had no queen."
"Queen Cyrilla," a different man said. "She fainted on us, then went feeble-minded. Just laid there the whole time, like a dead fish. But we had her anyway, had a queen. Still..."
Kahlan fought back the scream, fought to keep the meaning of what she had just learned from making her start kicking again. That would only get her the same as Cyrilla.
Her only chance was to use her head. She needed time to search for her magic, and if she somehow did find it, she needed the men separated. Otherwise, nin
For an instant, she abandoned her idea, fearing it wouldn't save her, and worse, fearing she wouldn't have the nerve to do it. But then she bleakly realized that even if it didn't work, it didn't mater. They were going to rape her one way or the other. Her only chance was to try. She had nothing to lose.
"That's what I mean. Wouldn't you rather have my cooperation? I'm going to be down here for days. You'll each have more than your share of time on me. Wouldn't you rather I helped? That way, you could all have what you want." She thought she might vomit.
"Keep talking," the biggest man said in a gruff voice.
Kahlan stiffened her resolve. "I've never... had a man before." They all hooted at their luck. She waited until their leers came back to her. She fought back the urge to shriek at the looks in those eyes. "Like I said, I've never had a man. I know you men are going to have me, and I can't stop you. If it's going to be done anyway, I'd rather... enjoy it."
Their hungry smiles widened. "Yea? Well, what do you think you'd enjoy most, little lady?"
"If you did it one at a time. Wouldn't that be better for you, too? If you weren't fighting each other, if you waited your turn, then you could concentrate on enjoying everything a real woman has to offer."
A couple of the men grabbed at her legs, pulling them apart. They growled that they would have what they wanted their own way. The biggest, the one with the gruff voice, hauled them back, throwing one against the wall. His head banged with a loud thunk.
"Let her talk! She makes sense!" He turned his vicious eyes on her. "Let's hear your offer."
Kahlan tried to slow her voice down, and sound like she might be intrigued by the idea. She tried to sound self-confident as she shrugged.
"If you do it my way, I'll give you whatever you want. I'll make sure you enjoy whatever you like."
Some of the men chuckled. The big man's eyes showed his suspicion. "Why? And how do we know you mean it."
"Because I'll be able to enjoy it, too, that way." Kahlan swallowed back her fear. "Untie my hands, and I'll show you I mean it."
She leaned forward as he untied her hands, another man taking the opportunity to fondle her breasts. She remained still. At last, her hands were untied. She rubbed her aching wrists and then smiled at the big man as she ran her fingers down his cheek.
He slapped her hand away. "You're running out of time. You better show us you mean what you say."
Kahlan steeled herself as she leaned back against the wall. She pulled her dress up above her waist, drew her knees up, and spread her legs. She looked to the big man. "Touch me."
Three of the other men reached for her. She slapped their hands away. "I said one at a time!" She looked the big man in the eyes, when they came up. He towered over the other men. "What's your name?"
"Tyler."
"One at a time. You first, Tyler. Touch me."
The stone walls echoed with the sound of heavy breathing. The big man reached out and stroked her. It took all her strength to keep her knees apart. She forced herself to breath. She prayed he couldn't see her shaking.
A grin spread on his hulking face as his husky hand groped her. She coyly pushed his hand away and put her knees together.
"See? Isn't that better that some delicate woman who faints at the first touch and lays on the floor like a dead fish?"
The other men agreed that it surly was. Tyler gave her a suspicious look.
"You look like one of them Confessors."
Kahlan sputtered a laugh. "Confessor!" She pulled out a short strand of hair. The feel of how short it was almost made her cry out in anguish. "Does this look like I'm a Confessor?"
"No... but that dress..."
"Well," Kahlan said, "she wasn't wearing it, so I borrowed it."
"Last I heard, they don't behead people for stealing a dress. What did you do to get yourself thrown in with us?"
She held her chin up. "I didn't do anything. I'm innocent."
The men laughed. They said that they, too, were innocent. Tyler wasn't laughing with them. He had a dangerous look in his eyes. She knew she had to do something, and quick.
With her heart thumping so hard she thought it might come right out of her chest, she took Tyler's hand in both of hers, and put it back up between her legs, pressing her thighs to it.
Tyler's leering grin swept the caution from his face. "So what is it you want us to do?" he asked.
"I'll make myself available here, and the rest of you all go over there, while I'm with each man in turn. That way I'll feel safe enough to enjoy it, and at ease enough to make sure you do, too." She looked back to the big man and licked her lips as she smiled. "And I have one other condition. I want you first. I've always wanted a really big man."
She shivered at the look in his eyes. She told herself that she was the Mother Confessor; she had to keep her head. She licked her lips again as she wiggled herself against his hand.
Tyler burst into laughter. The others all chuckled nervously with him. "You lofty ladies all act better than everyone else, but when it comes to it, you're just a whore, like all the rest."
His smile vanished in a way that made her heart skip a beat. "I rung the neck of the last whore what acted like she was better than me, and decided to change her mind. That wizard told us what he'd do if we were to kill you, but that don't mean we won't make you regret it if you go back on your word." Kahlan could only manage a smile and a nod. "Let's get to it."
A sweep of his arm scattered the others to the opposite side of the pit, while she was desperately seeking the feel of her magic. He told them they could decide among themselves who went next. And then he turned to her. He started unbuckling his pants.
Kahlan wildly searched her mind for a stall. She needed time to figure out how to find her power. "How about a kiss, first?"
"I don't need no kiss," he growled. "Open your legs, like before. I liked that."
"Well, it's just that a kiss from a big, handsome man gets a woman randy to please him."
He paused a moment, then put his right arm around her shoulders and slammed her to the floor beside him. "You better get randy real quick, before I lose my patience."
"I promise. Just kiss me a bit first."
Tyler pressed his lips to hers. She gasped when his other hand suddenly went up between her legs, but this time with forceful insistence, instead of a gentle touch like before. He thought the gasp was cooperation, and pressed his lips harder to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck. The smell of him almost made her sick.
Kahlan tried to concentrate on finding the calm, as she always had before when she used her power. She could not find the place. She desperately sought the swell of magic, but found nothing.
Failure brought tears of frustration. Tyler's breathing was becoming emphatic. He was pressing so hard that it was hurting her lips against her teeth. She pretended to savor it.
It was almost impossible to concentrate with the terror of what his hand was doing between her legs, but she dared not stop him. Panic rose in her throat as she forced herself to hold her legs open for him. Her heels pressed harder to the floor and her feet trembled in her boots.
Kahlan reprimanded herself. She was the Mother Confessor. She had used her power countless times. She tried again, but nothing happened. Her memory of the young women in Ebinissia was keeping her from being able to focus.
And then she thought of Richard. She almost wailed with longing for him. If she was ever to have a chance of seeing Richard again, she had to use her magic. She had to be strong. She had to do it for him.
Nothing happened. She realized she was whimpering in frustration against Tyler's mouth. He took it for passion.
His face pulled back a few inches. "Spread your legs more, so they can all see how much a fancy lady wants Tyler."
She submissively drew her heels closer to herself and spread her knees wid
It wasn't working. She couldn't find her power—if it was even there. She had no choice. She was going to have to follow through with what she had offered the men. Failure to do so now would only bring her a beating on top of it. There was no escape.
She thought about the poor women in Ebinissia. That was what was going to happen to her. It was hopeless. In her mind, she gave up. She surrendered to what was going to happen.
Something her father had told her sprang to the front of her mind—"If you ever give up, Kahlan, you are lost. Fight with every breath. With the last, if you must, but don't give up. Not ever. Don't hand them victory. Fight with what you have to the last breath." She wasn't doing that. She was giving up.
Tyler sat up. "Enough kissing. You're ready."
She had run out of time. She wondered if Richard would hate her for this. No. He would know she had no choice. He would be disappointed only if she felt shame for being a victim. He had suffered unimaginable pain before Denna had done what she wanted. He knew what it meant to be helpless. She did not blame him for what was forced on him. He would not blame her. He would comfort her.
If it didn't work with this man, she told herself, then maybe it would work with the next. She would keep trying with each. She would not give up. She would keep trying to find her power with with each.
"Keep your legs open," Tyler growled as he undid his trousers. She realized she had unconsciously put her knees together. She obediently spread them again as a tear rolled down the side of her face.
Dear spirits, she prayed, help me.
No. The good spirits had never helped her before. They had never come to her aid before, despite her efforts on their behalf, despite her pleas. They would not come now.
To the Keeper with the worthless good spirits.
Don't cry, girl, she told herself. Fight them. With your last breath if need be.
"Please," she said. "Just one more kiss?"