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‘I’m leaving； then；’ Mosle called out to the others。 He thrust his fist in the air。 ‘I’ll follow no woman into battle； no matter who she is！ Who’s leaving with me！’
About sixty or seventy men gathered about cheered their support for him。
‘Go； then；’ Kahlan manded。 ‘Before you bee caught up in a battle you do not believe in。’
Having made their choice； Mosle and the men with him cast her glares of contempt。 He swaggered forward。 ‘We’ll leave as soon as we can get our things together。 We’ll not be rushed out on your word。’
The men in the crowd pushed in。 Before it came to blows Kahlan held her hand up。 ‘Stop！ Let them be。 They’ve made their choice。 Let them get their things and be gone。’
Mosle turned and pushed his way back through the throng； his new men in tow。 As they left the gathered soldiers； Kahlan carefully counted their numbers。 Sixty…seven。 Sixty…seven who would leave。
She looked out at all the faces。 Any more？ Do any more wish to leave？’ No one moved a muscle。 Then do all of you wish to join in this fight？’ A united cheer went up。 ‘So be it。 I wish I did not have to call upon you men to do this； but there is no one else to ask。 My heart weeps for those of you who will die。 Know that none of those who live will ever forget the sacrifice you make for them and the people of the Midlands。’
From the corner of her eye； she watched the sixty…seven men moving among the wagons； taking the supplies they thought they would need。 And now； to what must be done。’
Slowly； she shook her head。 ‘You men must understand what it is I call upon you to do。 It is no glorious battle； as you think； where you move like pieces on a game board。 No tactics to outwit an opponent in a grand engagement。 We will not face them in the field of battle； but kill them in every other way。’
‘But Mother Confessor；’ someone near the front timidly called out； ‘it’s the code of honor for soldiers to face one another in battle； to best him in a fair fight。’
There is nothing fair about having to fight in war。 The only fair thing would be to live in peace。 The purpose of war is singular： to kill。
‘You must all understand this； for it’s central to your survival。 There is no honor in killing； no matter the method。 Dead is dead。 Killing your enemy in war is done to protect the lives of those for whom you fight。 Their lives are no better protected by killing your enemy sword to sword than by slaying him while he sleeps； but only put at risk by it。
There is no glory in this task。 It’s an onerous deed。 We do not intend to give them a chance to engage in pitched battle； to see who is the better at the game。 Our chore is simply to kill them。
‘If you have difficulty seeing the right of this； then I call upon you to consider the honor of the soldiers you are up against。 Consider them as they stood waiting in gangs to rape your mothers and sisters。 Consider what your mothers and sisters in Ebinissia thought of honor as they were tortured and raped and slaughtered。’
The chill of her words sent visible shudders through the stone…silent men。 Kahlan had to restrain herself from bringing any more horror to their eyes； but before her still floated the vision of the young women in the palace。
‘If the enemy is looking the other way； so much the better； because they will not thrust a knife into you。 If it is from a distance； with an arrow； so much the better； because they will not have a chance to impale you on an argon。 If it is while they have food in their mouths； so much the better； because they will not be able to raise an alarm。 If it is while they are sleeping； so much the better； because they will not have a chance to cleave you with their sword。
‘Last night； my horse crushed the head of one of the D’Haran manders。 There was no glory in that； no honor； only the knowledge that perhaps that deed will prevent some of you from dying by his hand and wits。 In that； my heart sings with joy。 Joy that maybe it has saved some of your precious lives。
‘What we do is done to save the lives of men and women yet alive and yet unborn。 You saw what was done to the people in Ebinissia。 Remember the faces of those dead。 Remember the way they died； and the horror they suffered before they did。 Remember those soldiers captured； and beheaded。
‘It is up to us to prevent that from happening to any more people。 To do that； we must kill these men。 There is no glory in the doing。 Only survival。’
In the back； two men gestured obscenely to those around them and walked off to join with Mosle’s men。 Sixty…nine。 But the rest stood in firm resolution to take up the fight。
The time had e。 She had dissuaded them from their raw thoughts of glorious battle； and told them of the true nature of their task。 She had brought most to an understanding of the larger temper of the battle ahead。 She had told them some of what must be done。 She had brought them to a more focused understanding of their importance in the scheme of this struggle。
The time had e to charge them irreversibly to the burden； to forge them into an instrument of retribution that could annihilate the threat。
Kahlan opened her arms to the men before her； her blood soaked mantle hanging limp。
‘I am dead；’ she called to the gray sky。 Frowning； they all leaned in a little。 ‘What has happened to my countrymen； my countrywomen … my fathers； sons； mothers； and daughters …has slain me。 The agony of their slaughter has mortally wounded my heart。’
Her arms spread wider as her voice rose in wrath。
‘Only vengeance can restore me！ Only victory can return my life to me！’
She gazed into all the wide eyes staring back。 ‘I am the Mother Confessor of the Midlands。 I am your mothers； your sisters； your daughters yet unborn。 I call upon you to die with me； and live again only by avenging me。’
Kahlan swept a hand out。 Those of you who join with me in this are dead with me。 Our lives can be returned only through vengeance。 As long as one of our enemy lives； we are dead。 We have no life to lose in this battle； for our lives are already lost； here； today； now。 Only when every one of the destroyers of Ebinissia is slain may we live once again。 Until then we have no life。’
She looked out at the solemn faces of the men gathered before her； watching； waiting for her next words。 On a warm breeze； the bloody wolf fur rustled against her cheek。 Kahlan pulled free her knife and held it up in her fist for all to see。 She laid the weapon over her heart。
‘An oath then； to the good people of Ebinissia who are now with the spirits； and to the good people of the Midlands！’
Almost all the men followed her example； holding their knives over their hearts。 Seven did not； but； grumbling curses； rose to join with Mosle。 Seventy…six。
‘Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us！’she pledged。
The sober voice of every man before her repeated the oath； joining with every other in unflinching unity。
‘Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us！’ The roar of their words drifted away o