Naked Empire

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard’s demeanor had changed. His anger seemed to have faded away. He stepped closer to Owen and spoke softly.

  “The Bandakaran Empire—why isn’t it known? Why does no one know of your people?”

  Owen looked away, toward the east, seeing his distant homeland through wet eyes. “It is said that the ancient ones, the ones who gave us this name, wanted to protect us—because we are a special people. They took us to a place where no one could go, because of the mountains all around. Such mountains as only the Creator could impose to close off the land beyond, so that we are protected.”

  “Except that one place”—Richard gestured east—“that notch in the mountain range, that pass.”

  “Yes,” Owen admitted, still staring off toward his homeland. “That was how we entered the land beyond, our land, but others could enter there as well; it was the one place where we were vulnerable. You see, we are an enlightened people who have risen above violence, but the world is still full of savage races. So, those ancient people, who wanted our advanced culture to survive, to thrive without the brutality of the rest of the world…they sealed the pass.”

  “And your people have been isolated for all this time—for thousands of years.”

  “Yes. We have a perfect land, a place of an advanced culture that is undisturbed by the violence of the people out here.”

  “How was the pass, the notch in the mountains, how was it sealed?”

  Owen looked at Richard, somewhat startled by the question. He thought it over a moment. “Well…the pass was sealed. It was a place that no one could enter.”

  “Because they would die if they entered this boundary.”

  With an icy wave of understanding, Kahlan suddenly understood what composed the seal to this empire.

  “Well, yes,” Owen stammered. “But it had to be that way to keep outsiders from invading our empire. We reject violence unconditionally. It’s unenlightened behavior. Violence only invites ever more violence, spiraling into a cycle of violence with no end.” He fidgeted with the worry of such a trap catching them up in the allure of its wicked spell. “We are an advanced race, above the violence of our ancestors. We have grown beyond. But without the boundary that seals that pass and until the rest of the world rejects violence as we have, our people could be the prey of unenlightened savages.”

  “And now, that seal is broken.”

  Owen stared at the ground, swallowing before he spoke. “Yes.”

  “How long ago did the boundary fail?”

  “We aren’t sure. It is a dangerous place. No one lives near it, so we can’t be positive, but we believe it was close to two years ago.”

  Kahlan felt the dizzying burden of confirmation of her fears.

  When Owen looked up, he was a picture of misery. “Our empire is now naked to unenlightened savages.”

  “Sometime after the boundary came down, the Imperial Order came in through the pass.”

  “Yes.”

  “The land beyond those snowcapped mountains, the Empire of Bandakar, is where the black-tipped races are from, isn’t it?” Richard said.

  Owen looked up, surprised that Richard knew this. “Yes. Those awful creatures, innocent though they are of malice, prey on the people of my homeland. We must stay indoors at night, when they hunt. Even so, people, especially children, are sometimes surprised and caught by those fearsome creatures—”

  “Why don’t you kill them?” Cara asked, indignantly. “Fight them off? Shoot them with arrows? Dear spirits, why don’t you bash their heads in with a rock if you have to?”

  Owen looked shocked by the very suggestion. “I told you, we are above violence. It would be even more wrong to commit violence on such innocent creatures. It is our duty to preserve them, since it is we who entered into their domain. We are the ones who bear the guilt because we entice them into such behavior which is only natural to them. We preserve virtue only by embracing every aspect of the world without the prejudice of our flawed human views.”

  Richard gave Cara a stealthy gesture to be quiet. “Was everyone in the empire peaceful?” he asked, pulling Owen’s attention away from Cara.

  “Yes.”

  “Weren’t there occasionally those who…I don’t know, misbehaved? Children, for example. Where I come from, children can sometimes become rowdy. Children where you come from must sometimes become rowdy, too.”

  Owen shrugged a bit with one shoulder. “Well, yes, I guess so. There were times when children misbehave and become unruly.”

  “And what do you do with such children?”

  Owen cleared his throat, plainly uncomfortable. “Well, they are…put out of their home for a time.”

  “Put out of their home for a time,” Richard repeated. He lifted his arms in a questioning shrug. “The children I know will usually be happy to be put outside. They simply go play.”

  Owen shook his head emphatically at the serious nature of the matter. “We are different. From the time we are born, we are together with others. We are all very close. We depend on one another. We cherish one another. We spend all our waking hours with others. We cook and wash and work together. We sleep in a sleeping house, together. Ours is an enlightened life of human contact, human closeness. There is no higher value than being together.”

  “So,” Richard asked, feigning a puzzled look, “when one of you—a child—is put out, that is a cause of unhappiness?”

  Owen swallowed as a tear ran down his cheek. “There could be nothing worse. To be put out, to be closed off from others, is the worst horror we can endure. To be forced out into the cold cruelty of the world is a nightmare.”

  Just talking about such a punishment, thinking about it, was making Owen start to tremble.

  “And that’s when, sometimes, the races get such children,” Richard said in a compassionate tone. “When they’re alone and vulnerable.”

  With the back of his hand Owen wiped the tear from his cheek. “When a child must be put out to be punished, we take all possible precautions. We never put them out at night because that is when the races usually hunt. Children are put out for punishment only in the day. But when we are away from others, we are vulnerable to all the terrors and cruelties of the world. To be alone is a nightmare.

  “We would do anything to avoid such punishment. Any child who misbehaves and is put out for a while will not likely misbehave again anytime soon. There is no greater joy than to finally be welcomed back in with our friends and family.”

  “So, for your people, banishment is the greatest punishment.”

  Owen stared into the distance. “Of course.”

  “Where I come from, we all got along pretty well, too. We enjoyed each other’s company and had great fun when many people would gather. We valued our times together. When we’re away for a time, we inquire about all the people we know and haven’t seen in a while.”

  Owen smiled expectantly. “Then you understand.”

  Richard nodded, returning the smile. “But occasionally there will be someone who won’t behave, even when they’re an adult. We try everything we can, but, sometimes, someone does something wrong—something they know is wrong. They might lie or steal. Even worse, at times someone will deliberately hurt another person—beat someone when robbing them, or rape a woman, or even murder someone.”

  Owen wouldn’t look up at Richard. He stared at the ground.

  As he spoke, Richard paced slowly before the man. “When someone does something like that where you come from, Owen, what do your people do? How do an enlightened people handle such horrible crimes some of your people commit against others?”

  “We attack the root cause of such behavior from the beginning,” Owen was quick to answer. “We share all we have to make sure that everyone has what they need so that they don’t have to steal. People steal because they feel the hurt of others acting superior. We show these people that we are no better than they and so they need not harbor such fears of others. We teach them to be enlightened and rejec
t all such behavior.”

  Richard shrugged nonchalantly. Kahlan would have thought that he would be ready to strangle the answers out of Owen, but, instead, he was behaving in a calm, understanding manner. She had seen him act this way before. He was the Seeker of Truth, rightfully named by the First Wizard himself. Richard was doing what Seekers did: find the truth. Sometimes he used his sword, sometimes words.

  Even though this was the way Richard often disarmed people when he questioned them, in this case it struck Kahlan that such a manner was precisely what Owen would be most accustomed to, most comfortable with. This gentle manner was pulling answers from the man and filling in a lot of information Kahlan had never thought of trying to get.

  She had already learned that she was the cause of what had befallen these people.

  “We both know, Owen, that, try as we might, such efforts to change people’s ways don’t always work. Some people won’t change. There are times when people do evil things. Even among civilized people, there are some who will not behave in a civil manner despite all your best efforts. What’s worse is that, if allowed to continue, these few jeopardize the whole community.

  “After all, if you have a rapist among you, you can’t allow him to continue to prey on women. If a man committed murder, you couldn’t allow such a man to threaten the empire with his ways, now could you? An advanced culture, especially, can’t be faulted for wanting to stop such dangers to enlightened people.

  “But you’ve shunned all forms of violence, so you can hardly punish such a man physically—you couldn’t put a murderer to death—not if you’ve truly rejected violence unconditionally. What do you do with such men? How does an enlightened people handle grave problems, such as murder?”

  Owen was sweating. It seemed not to have occurred to him to deny the existence of murderers—Richard had already led him past that, had already established the existence of such men. Before Owen could think to object, Richard was already beyond, to the next step.

  “Well,” Owen said, swallowing, “as you say, we are an enlightened people. If someone does something to harm another, they are given…a denunciation.”

  “A denunciation. You mean, you condemn their actions, but not the man. You give him a second chance.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Owen wiped sweat from his brow as he glanced up at Richard. “We work very hard to reform people who make such mistakes and are given a denunciation. We recognize that their actions are a cry for help, so we counsel them in the ways of enlightenment in order to help them to see that they are hurting all our people when they hurt one, and that since they are one of our beloved people, they are only hurting themselves when they hurt another. We show such people compassion and understanding.”

  Kahlan caught Cara’s arm, and with a stern look convinced her to remain silent.

  Richard paced slowly before Owen, nodding as if he thought that sounded reasonable. “I understand. You put a great deal of effort into making them see that they can never do such a thing again.”

  Owen nodded, relieved that Richard understood.

  “But then there are times when one of those who has received a denunciation, and has been counseled to the very best of your ability, goes out and does the same crime again—or one even worse.

  “It’s clear, then, that he refuses to be reformed and that he’s a threat to public order, safety, and confidence. Left to his own devises, such a person, by himself, will bring the very thing you unconditionally reject—violence—to stalk among your people and win others to his ways.”

  A light mist had begun to fall. Owen sat on the crate, trembling, frightened, alone. Only a short time ago he had been reluctant to answer even the most basic question in a meaningful way; now Richard had him speaking openly.

  Friedrich stroked the jaw of one of the horses as he quietly watched. Jennsen sat on a rock, Betty lying at her feet. Tom stood behind Jennsen, a hand resting gently on her shoulder, but keeping an eye on the man Kahlan had touched with her power. That man sat off to the side, listening dispassionately as he waited to be commanded. Cara stood beside Kahlan, ever watchful for trouble, but obviously caught up in the unfolding story of Owen’s homeland, even if she was having a hard time holding her tongue.

  For her part, Kahlan, while she could sympathize with Cara’s difficulty in holding her tongue, was transfixed by the tale of a mysterious empire that Richard casually, effortlessly, drew from this man who had poisoned him. She couldn’t imagine where Richard was going with his matter-of-fact questions. What did this empire’s forms of punishment have to do with Richard being poisoned? It was clear to her, though, that Richard knew where he was headed, and that the path he was following was wide and sunlit.

  Richard paused before Owen. “What do you do in those instances?—when you can’t reform someone who has become a danger to everyone. What do an enlightened people do with that kind of person?”

  Owen spoke in a soft voice that carried clearly in the misty early-morning hush. “We banish them.”

  “Banish them. You mean, you send them into the boundary?”

  Owen nodded.

  “But you said that going into the boundary is death. You couldn’t simply send them into the boundary or you would be executing them. You must have a place to send them through. A special place. A place where you can banish them, without killing them, but a place where you know they can never return to harm your people.”

  Owen nodded again. “Yes. There is such a place. The pass that is blocked by the boundary is steep and treacherous. But there is a path that leads down into the boundary. Those ancient ones who protected us by placing that boundary placed the path as well. The path is said to allow passage out. Because of the way the mountain descends, it is a difficult path, but it can be followed.”

  “And just because of how difficult it is, it’s not possible to climb back up? To enter the Bandakaran Empire?”

  Owen chewed his lower lip. “It goes down through a terrible place, a narrow passageway through the boundary, a lifeless land, where it is said that death itself lies to each side. The person banished is given no water or food. He must find his own, on the other side, or perish. We place watchers at the entrance of the path, where they wait to be sure that the one banished has gone through and is not lingering in the boundary only to return. The watchers wait and watch for several weeks to be sure that the one banished has gone beyond in search of water and food, in search of his new life away from his people.

  “Once beyond, the forest is a terrible place, a frightening place, with roots that descend over the edge like a land of snakes. The path takes you down under that cascade of roots and running water. Then, even lower, you find yourself in a strange land where the trees are far above, reaching for the distant light, but you see only their roots twisting and stretching down into the darkness toward the ground. It is said that once you see that forest of roots towering all around you, you have made it through the boundary and the pass through the mountains.

  “There is said to be no way to enter our land from that other side—to use the pass to return to our empire.

  “Once banished, there is no redemption.”

  Richard moved up close beside Owen and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “What did you do to be banished, Owen?”

  Owen sank forward, putting his face in his hands as he finally broke down sobbing.

  Chapter 24

  Richard left his hand on Owen’s shoulder as he spoke in a compassionate tone. “Tell me what happened, Owen. Tell me in your own way.”

  Kahlan was startled to hear, after all Owen had said, that he had become one of the banished. She saw Jennsen’s jaw fall open. Cara lifted an eyebrow.

  Kahlan could see that Richard’s hand on Owen’s shoulder was an emotional lifeline for the man. He finally sat up, sniffling back the tears. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  He looked up at Richard. “Should I tell you the whole story? All of it?”

  “Yes. I’d
like to hear it all, from the beginning.”

  Kahlan was struck at how much Richard reminded her, at that moment, of his grandfather, Zedd, and the way Zedd always wanted to hear the whole story.

  “Well, I was happy among my people, with them all around me. They held me to their breast when I was young. I was always safe in their welcoming arms. While I knew of other children who became unruly and were put out as punishment, I never did anything to be put out. I hungered to learn to be like my people. They taught me the ways of enlightenment. For a time I served my people as the Wise One.

  “Later, my people were pleased with how enlightened I was, how I embraced them all, and so they made me the speaker of our town. I traveled to nearby towns to speak the words of what the people of my town all believed as one. I went to our great cities for the same reason. I was always happiest, though, when I was home with my closest people.

  “I fell in love with a woman from my town. Her name is Marilee.”

  Owen stared off into his memories. Richard didn’t rush him, but waited patiently until he began again at his own pace.

  “It was spring, a little more than two years ago, when we fell joyfully in love. Marilee and I spent time talking, holding hands, and, when we could, sitting together while among all the others. Among all the others, though, I only had eyes for Marilee. She only had eyes for me.

  “When we were with others, it felt like we were alone in the world, Marilee and I, and the world belonged to us alone, that only we had the eyes to see all its hidden beauty. It is wrong to feel this way, to be so alone in our hearts is to be selfish and to think our eyes can see so clearly is sinful pride, but we could not help ourselves. The trees blossomed just for us. The water in the streams burbled their music just for us. The moon rose for us alone.” Owen slowly shook his head. “You could not understand how it was…how we felt.”

  “I understand quite well how it was,” Richard assured him in a quiet voice.