tg.stone of tears-第187部分

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m；　too；　with　all　the　rest。’
　
　He　nodded。　‘Mother　Confessor？　What　would　you　have　done　if　you　were　wrong？　What　would　you　have　done　if　Mosle　wasn’t　going　to　the　enemy？’
　
　She　regarded　him　until　his　gaze　rose　to　meet　hers。　‘I　probably　would　have　taken　that　knife　you　offered；　and　killed　you。’
　
　She　turned　from　his　hollow　expression　and　put　a　hand　on　the　shoulder　of　the　the　man　next　to　him。　‘Lieutenant　Hobson；　I　know　you　had　a　difficult　task。　Prindin　tells　me　you　did　it　well。’
　
　He　looked　near　tears；　but　still　managed　to　stiffen　his　back　with　pride。　She　noticed　that　his　beard　hadn’t　even　started　to　grow　in　earnest　yet。　Thank　you；　Mother　Confessor。’
　
　She　looked　around　at　the　hundreds　of　men　standing　about；　watching。　‘I　believe　you　all　have　work？’
　
　As　if　they　had　just　awakened；　everyone　began　moving　again；　slowly　at　first；　and　then　with　accelerating　urgency。
　
　Hobson　gave　a　salute　of　his　fist　to　his　heart　and　turned　to　other　business。　The　men　who　had　brought　Mosle　lifted　his　body　and　carried　it　off。　Others　went　to　Chandalen　and　the　two　brothers；　asking　for　instructions。　Captain　Ryan　stood　alone　with　her；　watching　as　everyone　went　about　their　work。
　
　Her　legs　felt　limp　and　slack；　like　bowstrings　left　out　in　the　rain　all　night。　For　a　Confessor　to　use　her　power　when　she　was　rested　and　alert　was　taxing。　To　use　it　when　she　was　already　tired　was　perilously　exhausting。　She　could　hardly　keep　herself　upright。
　
　She　had　been　dead　tired　from　riding　all　night　to　the　enemy　camp　and　back；　to　say　nothing　of　the　fight　with　them。　She　needed　more　sleep　than　she　had　gotten；　and　using　her　power　had　cost　her　even　the　benefit　of　the　short　nap；　and　then　some。　She　had　used　what　strength　she　had　left　to　do　something　that　should　have　been　done　without　her。
　
　She　thought　maybe　it　must　be　the　cold；　and　traveling　in　such　difficult　conditions；　but　she　seemed　more　tired　than　usual　lately。　Maybe　she　could　ask　Prindin　to　make　her　some　more　tea。
　
　‘Could　I　speak　with　you　for　a　moment；　Mother　Confessor？’　Captain　Ryan　asked。
　
　Kahlan　nodded。　‘What　is　it；　Captain？’
　
　He　pushed　his　unbuttoned　wool　coat　open；　shoving　his　hands　in　his　back　pockets。　He　glanced　away　to　watch　some　men　filling　waterskins。　‘I　just　want　to　say　that　I’m　sorry。　I　was　wrong。’
　
　‘It’s　all　right；　Bradley。　He　was　your　friend。　It’s　difficult　to　believe　ill　of　a　friend。　I　understand。’
　
　‘No；　that’s　not　it。　My　father　always　told　me　that　a　man　had　to　admit　his　mistakes　before　he　could　do　right　in　this　world。’
　
　He　shuffled　his　feet　and　looked　around；　finally　bringing　his　blue　eyes　to　her。　The　mistake　I　made　was　believing　that　you　wanted　Mosle　killed　because　he　wouldn’t　follow　you。　I　thought　you　were　being　spiteful　because　he　didn’t　want　to　follow　you。　I　made　a　mistake；　and　I’m　sorry。　Sorry　I　thought　that　of　you。　You　were　trying　to　protect　us；　even　though　you　knew　we　would　hate　you　for　it。　Well；　I　don’t　hate　you。　I　hope　you　don’t　hate　me。　I’m　honored　to　follow　you　into　this　battle。　I　hope　that　someday　I’m　half　as　wise　as　you；　and　have　the　guts　you　do；　to　use　that　wisdom。’
　
　She　released　a　quiet　sigh。　‘I’m　hardly　older　than　you；　yet　you　make　me　feel　like　an　old　woman。　I’m　relieved；　you　understand。　It’s　a　small　pleasure　in　all　this　pain。　You’re　a　fine　officer；　and　will　do　right　by　this　world。’
　
　He　smiled。　‘I’m　glad　we’re　on　good　terms　again。’
　
　A　man　approached；　and　was　waved　forward　by　the　captain。　‘What　is　it；　Sergeant　Frost？’
　
　Sergeant　Frost　gave　a　salute　of　his　fist　to　his　heart。　‘We　sent　a　few　men　out；　and　in　an　abandoned　barn　they　found　some　crushed　chalk　and　other　things　needed　to　make　whitewash。　We　have　some　wooden　tubs　we　can　mix　it　in。　You　said　you　wanted　it　in　something　big。　They’re　big　enough　to　bathe　in。’
　
　‘How　many　of　these　tubs　do　you　have？’　Kahlan　asked。
　
　‘A　dozen；　Mother　Confessor。’
　
　‘Put　the　tubs　near　each　other；　and　pitch　a　tent　around　each。　Use　the　largest　tents　you　have；　even　if　it　is　the　mand　tents。　Make　the　whitewash　with　hot　water；　and　place　the　heated　stones　inside　the　tents；　to　keep　it　as　warm　as　possible　inside。　Let　me　know　when　all　this　is　seen　to。’
　
　Keeping　his　obvious　questions　to　himself；　the　sergeant　saluted　and　rushed　off　to　see　it　done。
　
　Captain　Ryan　gave　her　a　curious　frown。　‘What　do　you　want　with　whitewash？’
　
　‘We’ve　just　gotten　back　on　good　terms；　let’s　not　spoil　it　for　a　bit。　I’ll　tell　you　after　things　are　prepared。　Are　the　wagons　ready？’
　
　‘Should　be。’
　
　‘Then　I　must　see　to　them。　Did　you　send　the　sentries　and　lookouts？’
　
　‘First　thing。’
　
　As　she　walked　through　the　camp　to　the　wagons；　men　came　to　her　constantly。　‘The　wagon　wheels；　Mother　Confessor。　As　we　destroy　things　we　should　stave　in　the　wheels’　and　Their　battle　standards；　shouldn’t　we　burn　them；　so　they　can’t　rally　their　men　around　them？’　and　‘Couldn’t　we　set　fire　to　their　baggage；　so　if　the　weather　turns　colder　they’ll　freeze？’　and　‘If　we　were　to　throw　manure　in　their　barrels　of　drinking　water；　they　would　have　to　waste　time　melting　snow；’　and　a　hundred　other　ideas；　from　the　absurd　to　the　worthwhile。　She　listened　to　each　with　attention；　giving　her　honest　opinion；　and；　in　a　few　cases；　her　orders　to　see　it　done。
　
　Lieutenant　Hobson　came　at　a　trot　holding　out　a　tin　bowl。　That　was　the　last　thing　she　needed。
　
　‘Mother　Confessor！　I　kept　some　stew　hot　for　you！’
　
　Beaming；　he　handed　her　the　bowl　as　she　walked。　She　tried　to　act　grateful。　He　walked　along　next　to　her；　watching；　grinning。　She　forced　herself　to　take　a　spoonful；　and　to　tell　him　how　wonderful　it　tasted。　It　was　all　she　could　do　to　keep　that　one　spoonful　down。
　
　After　using　her　power；　a　Confessor　needed　time　to　recover。　For　some　it　was　days；　for　her　it　took　a　couple　of　hours。　Rest；　if　she　could　get　it；　was　the　best　thing　for　a　Confessor　after　using　her　power。　The　little　rest　she　had　gotten　was　now　wasted。　She　could　get　no　more　now；　and　probably　would　get　none　this　night　either。
　
　The　last　thing　a　Confessor　needed　while　recovering　her　power　was　food。　It　diverted　her　energy　to　the　food　instead　of　returning　her　strength。　She　had　to　think　of　a　way　out　of　eating　the　bowl　of　stew　or　it　would　end　up　on　the　ground；　to　the　embarrassment　of　all。
　
　Thankfully；　she　reached　the　wagons　before　she　had　to　take　another　mouthful。　She　asked　Lieutenant　Hobson　to　get　Chandalen　and　the　two　brothers；　and　bring　them　to　her。
　
　After　he　left；　she　set　the　bowl　down　on　the　splinter　bar　of　the　dray　with　the　casks　of　ale　and　climbed　up。
　
　She　motioned　Captain　Ryan　up　on　the　wagon　as　she　counted。　‘Get　some　men。　Unload　the　top　rows　so　we　can　get　at　them　all。　Right　the　casks　on　the　bottom　row；　and　withdraw　the　plugs。’　As　he　motioned　for　men　to　help　with　the　task；　she　asked；　‘Did　Chandalen　have　you　all　make　a　troga？’
　
　A　troga　was　a　simple；　stout　piece　of　cord　or　a　wire　with　a　wooden　handle　on　each　end；　and　long　enough　so　that　when　it　was　given　a　twist；　it　made　a　loop　that　was　the　right　size　to　drop　over　a　man’s　head。　It　was　applied　from　behind；　and　then　the　handles　yanked　apart。　If　it　was　made　of　wire；　placed　correctly