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that if any of the dead’s countrymen return to this place and eat any of the food here； they； too； will die。’
They found the main floor clear of bodies。 It looked to have been used as an army headquarters。 Empty barrels of wine and rum lay about the ballroom floor。 Food scraps； mugs and cups； broken dishes； pipe ashes； bloody bandages； oily rags； broken or bent swords； spears and maces； dark wood shavings from a walnut table leg someone had whittled away until it was nothing but a stub； basins of frozen water； dirty linen； bedsheets ripped into strips； and filthy； quilted bedcovers of every color littered the carpeted floor。 Dirty bootprints were everywhere； even on the tabletops。 By the swirling scratches； it looked as if men had danced atop them。
Chandalen walked through the rubble； inspecting various bits。 ‘Two； maybe three days they were here。’
She nodded her agreement as her eyes cast about。 ‘It looks that way。’
He rolled a wine barrel back and forth with his foot； testing if it was empty。 It was。 ‘I wonder why they stayed so long？ Just to drink； and dance？’
Kahlan sighed。 ‘I don’t know。 Maybe they were resting and tending to their wounded。 Maybe they just went on a drunken binge to celebrate their victory over these people。’
He looked up sharply。 ‘Killing is not a thing to celebrate。’
‘It is； for the people who did this killing。’
Reluctantly； Kahlan at last climbed the stairs to the top floor。 She didn’t want to look up there。 That was where the bedchambers were。
They checked the west wing first： the men’s apartments。 They looked to have been used by the troops as sleeping quarters。 With an army of as many men as had to have done this； they would have had many men of rank。 The officers probably stayed here； in the fine rooms。 The soldiers under their mand would have used the inns and more mon houses。
With a deep breath to strengthen her resolve； she set her jaw and crossed the central hall； with its balcony that overlooked the grand staircase； to the east…wing rooms。 Chandalen； close at her heels； wanted to open the doors for her and check the rooms first； but here she wouldn’t allow it。 Her hand paused for a moment on the doorknob； then finally opened the first door。 She stood for a time； staring at the scene inside。 She went to the next door and flung it open； and then to the next。
All the rooms were occupied。 Each bedchamber had women in it； none clothed。 Room after room after room were all the same。 By the filthy condition of the carpets； there looked to have been a steady stream of traffic。 Wood shavings lay in little piles about the floor； where a man had passed the time whittling on whatever was handy while he waited his turn。
‘Now we know why they spent several days here；’ Kahlan said without meeting Chandalen’s eyes。 He remained silent。 She couldn’t bring forth more than a whisper。 ‘So they could do this。’
Those few days had undoubtedly been the longest of these women’s lives。 Kahlan prayed that their spirits were at peace； now。
She reached the door at the end； the door to the room the younger women shared。 Slowly； she opened it； and stood looking in； Chandalen close behind her looking past her shoulder。
Stifling a gasp； she turned and put a hand to his chest。 ‘Please； Chandalen； wait here。’
He nodded as he furiously studied his boots。
Kahlan closed the door behind herself and stood with her back against it for a time。 One hand at her side； and the other covering her mouth； she skirted an overturned； wrecked wardrobe； and walked the length of the frigid room； between the rows of beds； looking from one side to the other。 The precious hand mirrors； brushes； bs； and pins that at one time had been arranged with loving care on tables between the beds now lay scattered about the floor。 The blue moire curtains billowed slightly in the icy air ing through the broken windows。
These were the queen’s ladies…in…waiting。 Young women of fourteen； fifteen； and sixteen； a few a little older。 These were not just nameless corpses； Kahlan knew many of these young women。
The queen had taken them with her when she had traveled to Aydindril to speak before the council。 Kahlan could not have failed to notice them； their vibrancy； their wide…eyed excitement at being in Aydindril。 Seeing the grandeur of Aydindril through their young eyes had given Kahlan new vision of the things around her； and brought a smile to her lips。 She had longed to give them a tour； personally； but being with the Mother Confessor would have frightened them； and so she hadn’t。 But she had admired them from afar； and envied their lives of possibility。
Kahlan stopped at various beds； her back stiff； her head held high； her jaw rigid； as she reluctantly cast her eyes down at faces she knew。 Juliana； one of the youngest； had always been self…confident and assertive。 She knew what she wanted and wasn’t timid about going after it。 She had always been smitten with young men in uniform： soldiers。 One time； it had brought her to grief with her chaperone； Mistress Nelda。 Kahlan had surreptitiously interceded on her behalf； informing Mistress Nelda that despite Juliana’s dalliances； the Aydindril Home Guard were all men of impeccable honor； and would never lay a finger on a queen’s lady。 Her wrists were now tied to the headpost； and by the way they had bled； looked to have been that way through the whole of her ordeal。 Kahlan silently cursed the spirits for their cruel humor in giving the young innocent what she had thought she wanted。
Little Elswyth was in the next blood…soaked bed。 Her breasts had been stabbed countless times； and her throat slit； as were many of the rest； like hogs at slaughter。 At the end of the room； Kahlan stopped at the foot of the last bed。 Ashley； one of the older teenagers； had each ankle tied to a footpost。 She had been strangled with a curtain tieback。 Her father was one of the Galean aides to the ambassador in Aydindril。 Her mother had been thrilled to tears when Queen Cyrilla had agreed to take Ashley on as one of her ladies…in…waiting。
How would she ever find the words to tell Ashley’s father and mother what had happened to their little girl while in the service of their queen？
As Kahlan retraced her steps through the length of the room； taking a last look at each dead body； at each face frozen in horror or in blank submission； she idly wondered why she wasn’t crying。 Shouldn’t she cry？ Shouldn’t she fall to her knees； scream in anguish； pound her fists； and cry until she drowned in tears？ But she didn’t。 She felt as if there were no tears to be had。
Perhaps there were too many。 Perhaps she had seen so many that day that it had simply numbed her to it。 Like when you get into a tub of water for a bath； and at first you feel that it is too hot to stand； that surely you are being scalded； but after a few minutes it seems only warm。
She softly pulled the door closed。 Chandalen stood in the exact same spot she had left him。 His knuckles were white on his bow。 Kahlan walked past him； expecting him to follow。 He didn’t。
‘Most women wo