tg.stone of tears-第126部分

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　Either　the　woman　had　been　telling　the　truth；　or　she　was　working　in　aid　of　Kelton；　trying　to　prevent　the　council　from　hearing　of　the　aggression。
　
　Either　way；　it　didn’t　matter；　Cyrilla　was　resolute。　Besides；　she　was　influential　in　the　council。　Galea　was　respected　for　its　defense　of　the　Midlands。　When　Aydindril　had　fallen；　councilors　who　had　refused　to　swear　the　allegiance　of　their　land　to　D’Hara　had　been　put　to　death　and　replaced　by　puppets。　Those　councilors　who　had　collaborated　were　allowed　to　retain　their　position。　Galea’s　loyal　ambassador　to　the　council　had　been　executed。
　
　How　the　war　had　ended　was　a　puzzle；　D’Haran　forces　were　told　that　Darken　Rahl　was　dead　and　all　hostilities　were　ended。　A　new　Lord　Rahl　had　succeeded；　and　the　troops　were　simply　called　home；　or　ordered　to　help　those　they　had　conquered。　Cyrilla　suspected　Darken　Rahl　had　been　assassinated。
　
　Whatever　had　happened　was　good　by　her；　the　council　was　now　back　in　the　hands　of　the　people　of　the　Midlands。　The　ones　who　collaborated；　and　the　puppets；　had　been　arrested。　Things　were　said　to　be　set　back　to　the　way　they　had　been　before　the　dictator。　She　expected　the　council　would　e　to　the　aid　of　Galea。
　
　Queen　Cyrilla；　too；　had　an　ally　on　the　council；　the　most　powerful　ally　there　was：　the　Mother　Confessor。　Though　Kahlan　was　her　half…sister；　that　wasn’t　what　forged　their　alliance。　Cyrilla　had　always　supported　the　sovereignty　of　the　various　lands；　while　also　recognizing　the　fundamental　need　for　peace　among　them。　The　Mother　Confessor　respected　that　steadfastness；　and　it　was　that　respect　which　made　her　Galea’s　ally。
　
　Kahlan　had　never　shown　Cyrilla　any　favoritism；　and　that　was　as　it　should　have　been；　favoritism　would　have　weakened　the　Mother　Confessor；　threatening　the　alliance　of　the　council；　and　therefore　peace。　She　respected　Kahlan　for　putting　the　unity　of　the　Midlands　above　any　power　games。　Such　games　were　a　shifting　bog　anyway；　one　was　always　better　off　in　the　end　when　dealt　with　fairly；　rather　than　by　favor。
　
　Cyrilla　had　always　been　secretly　proud　of　her　half　sister。　Kahlan　was　twelve　years　younger；　smart；　strong；　and；　despite　her　young　age；　an　astute　leader。　Though　they　were　related　by　blood；　they　almost　never　spoke　of　it。　Kahlan　was　a　Confessor；　and　of　the　magic。　She　was　not　a　sister　who　shared　the　blood　of　a　father；　but　a　Confessor；　and　the　Mother　Confessor　of　the　Midlands。　Confessors　were　blood　to　no　one　but　Confessors。
　
　Still；　having　no　family　of　her　own；　save　her　beloved　brother；　Harold；　she　had　often　longed　to　take　Kahlan　in　her　arms　as　kin；　as　a　little　sister；　and　speak　of　the　things　they　shared。　But　that　was　not　possible。　Cyrilla　was　the　queen　of　Galea；　and　Kahlan　was　the　Mother　Confessor；　two　women　who　were　virtual　strangers　who　shared　nothing　save　blood　and　mutual　respect。　Duty　came　before　the　heart。　Galea　was　Cyrilla’s　family；　the　Confessors；　Kahlan’s。
　
　Though　there　were　those　who　resented　Kahlan’s　mother　taking　Wyborn　as　a　mate；　Cyrilla　was　not　among　them。　Her　mother；　Queen　Bernadine；　had　taught　her　and　Harold　of　the　need　for　Confessors；　their　need　for　strong　blood　in　that　line　of　magic；　and　how　it　served　the　greater　cause　of　the　Midlands　in　keeping　peace。　Her　mother　had　never　spoken　bitterly　of　losing　her　husband　to　the　Confessors；　but　explained　instead　the　honor　Cyrilla　and　Harold　had　of　sharing　blood　with　the　Confessors；　even　if　it　was　mostly　unspoken。　Yes；　she　was　proud　of　Kahlan。
　
　Proud；　but　also　perhaps　a　bit　wary。　The　ways　of　Confessors　were　a　mystery　to　her。　From　birth　they　were　trained　in　Aydindril；　trained　by　other　Confessors；　and　by　wizards。　Their　magic；　their　power；　was　something　they　were　born　with；　and　in　a　way　they　were　slaves　to　it。　In　some　ways　it　was　the　same　with　her；　born　to　be　queen；　without　much　choice。　Though　she　had　no　magic；　she　understood　the　weight　of　birthright。
　
　From　birth　until　their　training　was　pleted；　Confessors　were　kept　cloistered；　like　priestesses；　in　a　world　apart。　Their　discipline　was　said　to　be　rigorous。　Though　Cyrilla　knew　they　must　have　emotions　like　anyone；　Confessors　were　trained　to　subjugate　them。　Duty　to　their　power　was　all。　It　left　them　no　choice　in　life；　save　choosing　a　mate；　and　even　that　was　not　for　love　but　for　duty。
　
　Cyrilla　had　always　wished　she　could　bring　a　little　of　the　love　of　a　sister　to　Kahlan。　Perhaps；　she　also　wished　Kahlan　could　have　brought　a　little　of　that　love　to　her；　too。　But　it　could　never　be。　Maybe　Kahlan　had　loved　her　from　afar；　as　Cyrilla　had　Kahlan。　Perhaps　Kahlan　had　been　proud　of　her；　too；　in　her　own　way。　She　had　always　hoped　it　was　so。
　
　The　thing　that　pained　her　the　most　was　that　though　they　both　served　the　Midlands；　she　was　loved　by　her　people　for　doing　her　duty；　but　Kahlan　was　feared　and　hated　for　it。　She　wished　Kahlan　could　know　a　people’s　love；　it　was　a　fort　that　in　part　made　up　for　the　sacrifice。　But　a　Confessor　never　could。　Perhaps；　she　thought；　that　was　why　they　were　taught　to　subjugate　their　emotions　and　needs。
　
　Kahlan；　too；　had　tried　to　warn　her　of　the　danger　from　Kelton。
　
　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；