Soul of the Fire

by Terry Goodkind

  “Master Campbell, I’m sure she wouldn’t—”

  “Inger paid me a visit a little earlier.”

  Fitch lost a little color. “She told Inger?”

  “No. She told him only that she refused to deliver here to the estate. But Inger is a smart man. He figures he knows the reason. He wants what he figures to be justice. If he forces this girl, Beata, to charge a man, the Minister could be unjustly subjected to ugly accusations.”

  Dalton stood. “You know this girl. It may be necessary for you to handle her in the same way you dealt with Claudine Winthrop. She knows you. She would let you get close to her.”

  Fitch lost the rest of his color. “Master Campbell… sir, I…”

  “You what, Fitch? You have lost your interest in earning a sir name? You have lost your interest in your new work as a messenger? You have lost your interest in your new uniform?”

  “No sir, it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it, Fitch?”

  “Nothing, sir. I guess… like I said, anything that happened is no more than what she asked for. I can see that it wouldn’t be right for her to be accusing the Minister of something wrong when he didn’t do nothing wrong.”

  “No more than it was right for Claudine to do the same.”

  Fitch swallowed. “No, sir. No more right than that.”

  Dalton returned to his chair. “I’m glad we understand each other. I’ll call you if she becomes a problem. Hopefully, that won’t be necessary.

  “Who knows, perhaps she will think better of such hateful accusations. Perhaps someone will talk some sense into her before it becomes necessary to protect the Minister from her wrongful charges. Perhaps she will even decide that butchering work is not for her, and she will go off to work on a farm, or something.”

  Dalton idly sucked on the end of the pen as he watched Fitch pull the door closed behind himself. He thought it would be interesting to see how the boy handled it. If he didn’t, then Rowley surely would.

  But if Fitch handled it, then all the pieces would fall together into a masterful mosaic.

  40

  Master Spink’s boots thunked on the plank floor as he strode among the benches, hands clasped behind his back. People were still sobbing about the Ander women. Sobbing about what was done to them by the Haken army. Fitch thought he’d known what the lesson was going to be, but he was wrong. It was more horrible than he could have imagined.

  He could feel his face glowing as red as his hair. Master Spink had filled in a lot of the sketchy parts of Fitch’s understanding of the act of sex. It had not been the pleasurable learning experience he had always anticipated. What he had always viewed with longing was now turned to repugnance by the stories of those Ander women.

  It was made all the worse by the fact that there was a woman to each side of him on the bench. Knowing what the lesson was going to be, all the women had tried to sit together to one side of the room and all the men had tried to sit on the other side. Master Spink never much cared where they sat.

  But when they’d filed in, Master Spink made them sit where he told them. Man, woman, man, woman. He knew everyone in the penance assembly, and knew where they lived and worked. He made them sit all mixed up, next to people from somewhere else, so they wouldn’t know the person next to them so well.

  He did that to make it more embarrassing for them when he told the stories of each woman and what was done to her. He described the acts in detail. There wasn’t a lot of sobbing for most of it. People were too shocked by what they heard to cry, and too embarrassed to want to call attention to themselves.

  Fitch, for one, had never heard such things about a man and a woman, and he’d heard a lot of things from some of the other scullions and messengers. Of course, the men were Haken overlords, and naturally they weren’t at all kind or gentle. They meant to hurt the Ander women. To humiliate them. That was how hateful the Hakens were.

  “No doubt you all are thinking,” Master Spink went on, “‘that was so long ago. That was ages ago. That was the Haken overlords. We are better than that, now,’ you are thinking.”

  Master Spink’s boots stopped in front of Fitch. “Is that what you are thinking, Fitch? Is that what you are thinking in your fine uniform? Are you thinking you are better than the Haken overlords? That the Hakens have learned to be better?”

  “No, sir,” Fitch said. “We are no better, sir.”

  Master Spink grunted and then moved on. “Do any of you think the Hakens nowadays are outgrowing their hateful ways? Do you think you are better people than in the past?”

  Fitch stole a glance to each side. About half the people tentatively raised their hands.

  Master Spink exploded in rage. “So! You think Hakens are nowadays better? You arrogant people think you are better?”

  The hands all quickly dropped back into laps.

  “You are no better! Your hateful ways continue to this day!”

  His boots started their slow thump, thump, thump as he walked among the silent assembly.

  “You are no better,” he repeated, but this time in a quiet voice. “You are the same.”

  Fitch didn’t recall the man’s voice ever sounding so defeated. He sounded as if he was about to cry himself.

  “Claudine Winthrop was a most respected and renowned woman. While she was alive, she worked for all people, Hakens as well as Anders. One of her last works was to help change outdated laws so starving people, mostly Hakens, were able to find work.

  “Before she died, she came to know that you are no different than those Haken overlords, that you are the same.”

  His boots thumped on across the room.

  “Claudine Winthrop shared something with those women of long ago—those women I’ve taught you about today. She shared the same fate.”

  Fitch was frowning to himself. He knew Claudine didn’t share the same fate. She died quick.

  “Just like those women, Claudine Winthrop was raped by a gang of Hakens.”

  Fitch looked up, his frown growing. As soon as he realized he was frowning, he changed the expression on his face. Fortunately, Master Spink was on the other side of the room, looking into the eyes of Haken boys over there, and didn’t see Fitch’s startled reaction.

  “We can only guess how many hours poor Claudine Winthrop had to endure the laughing, taunting, jeering men who raped her. We can only guess at the number of cruel heartless Hakens who put her through such an ordeal out there in that field but, by the way the wheat was trampled, the authorities say it must have been between thirty and forty men.”

  The class gasped in horror. Fitch gasped, too. There hadn’t been half that number. He wanted to stand up and say it was wrong, that they didn’t do such vile things to Claudine, and that she’d deserved killing for wanting to harm the Minister and future Sovereign and that it was his duty. Fitch wanted to say they’d done a good thing for the Minister and for Anderith. Instead, he hung his head.

  “But it wasn’t thirty to forty men,” Master Spink said. He pointed his finger out at the room, sweeping it slowly from one side to the other. “It was all of you. All you Hakens raped and murdered her. Because of the hate you still harbor in your hearts, you all took part in that rape and murder.”

  He turned his back to the room. “Now, get out of here. I’ve had all I can stand of your hate-filled Haken eyes for one day. I can endure your crimes no longer. Go. Go, until next assembly and think on how you might be better people.”

  Fitch bolted for the door. He didn’t want to miss her. He didn’t want her to get out into the street. He lost track of her in the shuffle of others hurrying to get out, but he did manage to squeeze to near the head of the line.

  Once out in the cool night air, Fitch moved off to the side. He checked those who’d left before him and rushed out to the street, but he didn’t see her. He waited in the shadows and watched the rest of the people coming out.

  When he saw her, he called her name in a loud whisper.

  Beat
a halted and looked over. She peered into the shadows trying to tell who it was calling her name. People pushed past to get down the path, so she stepped off it, closer to him.

  She no longer wore the dusky blue dress he liked so well, the dress she had worn that day she went up to meet the Minister. She now had a wheat-colored dress with a dark brown bodice above the long flare of skirt.

  “Beata, I have to talk to you.”

  “Fitch?” She put her hands on her hips. “Fitch, is that you?”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  She turned to leave. He snatched her wrist and yanked her into the shadows. The last of the people hurried off down the path, eager to go home and not interested in two young people meeting after assembly. Beata tried to wrench her arm free, but he kept a grip on it as he dragged her farther into the black shadows of the trees and bushes to the side of the assembly hall.

  “Let go! Let go, Fitch, or I’ll scream.”

  “I have to talk to you,” he whispered urgently. “Come along!”

  She instead fought him. He dragged and pulled until he at last reached a place deeper in the brush where they wouldn’t be seen. If they were quiet, no one would hear them, either. Moonlight fell across them in the gap of brush and trees.

  “Fitch! I’ll not have your filthy Haken hands on me!”

  He turned to her as he let go of her wrist. Immediately, her other arm came around to strike him. He’d been expecting it and caught her wrist. She slapped him hard with her other hand.

  He slapped her right back. He hadn’t hit her very hard at all, but the shock of it stunned her. A Haken man striking anyone was a crime. But he hadn’t hit her hard at all. It wasn’t his intent to hurt her, only to surprise her and make her pay attention.

  “You have to listen to me,” he growled. “You’re in trouble.”

  In the moonlight he could clearly see her glower. “You’re the one in trouble. I’m going to tell Inger you dragged me in the bushes, struck me, and then—”

  “You’ve already told Inger enough!”

  She was silent a moment. “I don’t know what are you talking about. I’m leaving. I’ll not stand here and have you strike me again, now that you’ve proven your hateful Haken ways with women.”

  “You’re going to listen to me if I have to throw you on the ground and sit on you.”

  “You just try it, you skinny little eel.”

  Fitch pressed his lips tight as he tried to ignore the sting of the insult.

  “Beata, please? Please just listen to me? I have important things I need to tell you.”

  “Important? Important to you, maybe, but not important to me! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I know what you’re like. I know how you enjoy—”

  “Do you want to see the people working for Inger get hurt? Do you want Inger to get hurt? This has got nothing to do with me. I don’t know why you think so low of me, but I’ll not try to talk you out of it. This is only about you.”

  Beata folded her arms with a huff. She considered for a moment. He glanced to the side and checked through a gap in the brush to make sure no one on the street was watching. Beata smoothed her hair back above an ear.

  “As long as you don’t try to tell me what a fine young man you are in your fancy uniform, like those overlord beasts, then talk. But be quick about it. Inger has work for me.”

  Fitch wet his lips. “Inger went to the estate with the load today. He went because you refused to deliver to the estate anymore—”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I hear things.”

  “And how did—”

  “You going to listen? You’re in a lot of trouble and a lot of danger.”

  She put her fists on her hips but remained silent, so he went on. “Inger figures you got taken advantage of at the estate. He came and demanded something be done. He’s demanding the name of the ones responsible for hurting you.”

  She appraised him in the moonlight.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I told you, I hear things.”

  “I didn’t tell Inger any of that.”

  “Don’t matter. He figured it out on his own or something—I don’t know—but the important thing is he cares about you and he’s hot for something to be done. He’s got this idea in his head that he wants justice done. He’s not going to let it go. He’s set on causing trouble over it.”

  She sighed irritably. “I should never have refused to go. I should just have done it—no matter what might have happened again to me.”

  “I don’t blame you, Beata. If I was you, I might of done the same.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “I want to know who told you all this.”

  “I’m a messenger, now, and I’m around important people. Important people talk about what’s going on around the estate. I hear what they say, that’s all, and I heard about this. The thing is, if you were to say what happened, people would see it as you were trying to hurt the Minister.”

  “Oh, come on, Fitch, I’m just a Haken girl. How could I hurt the minister?”

  “You told me yourself that people are saying he’ll be the Sovereign. Have you ever heard anyone say anything against the Sovereign? Well, the Minister is almost to be named Sovereign.

  “How do you think people will take it if you had your say about what happened? Do you think they’d believe you’re a good girl telling the truth and the Minister was lying if he denies it? Anders don’t lie, that’s what we’re taught. If you say anything against the Minister, you’ll be the one marked a liar. Worse, a liar trying to do harm to the Minister of Culture.”

  She seemed to consider what he said is if it were an unsolvable riddle.

  “Well… I’m not going to, but if I did say anything, the Minister would admit what I said was the truth—because it would be. Anders don’t lie. Only Hakens are corrupt of nature. If he said anything about it, he would admit the truth.”

  Fitch sighed in frustration. He knew Anders were better than them, and that Hakens had the taint of an evil nature, but he was beginning to believe the Anders weren’t all pure and perfect.

  “Look, Beata, I know what we’ve learned, but it isn’t always exactly true. Some of the things they teach don’t make sense. It isn’t all true.”

  “It’s all true,” she said flatly.

  “You may think so, but it isn’t.”

  “Really? I think you just don’t want to admit to yourself how disgusting Haken men are. You just wish you didn’t have such a depraved soul. You wish it wasn’t true what Haken men did to those women long ago, and what Haken men did to Claudine Winthrop.”

  Fitch swiped his hair back from his forehead. “Beata, think about it. How could Master Spink know what was done to each of those women?”

  “From books, you dolt. In case you’ve forgotten, Anders can read. The estate is full of books that—”

  “And you think those men who were raping all those women stopped to keep records? You think they asked the women their names and all and then wrote it all down just right so there would be books listing everything they did?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what they did. Just like all Haken men, they liked what they did to those women. They wrote it down. It’s known. It’s in books.”

  “And what about Claudine Winthrop? You tell me where the book is what tells about her being raped by the men who killed her.”

  “Well, she was. It’s obvious. Hakens did it, and that’s what Haken men do. You ought to know what Haken men are like, you little—”

  “Claudine Winthrop made an accusation against the Minister. She was always yearning over him and acting interested in him. Then, after she caught his eye and she willingly gave herself to him, she decided to change her mind. She started saying he forced himself on her against her will. Just like what really happened to you. Then, after she started telling people such vicious lies that he raped her, she ended up dead.”

  Beata fell silent. Fitch knew Claudine was only
trying to make trouble for the Minister—Dalton Campbell told him so. What happened to Beata, on the other hand, wasn’t willing, but even so Beata wasn’t trying to make trouble over it.

  Crickets chirred on as she stood in the darkness staring at him. Fitch glanced around again to make sure no one was close. He could see through the brush that people were strolling along the street. No one was paying any attention to the dark bushes where the two of them were.

  Finally she spoke, but her voice didn’t have the heat in it anymore. “Inger doesn’t know anything, and I’ve no intention of telling him.”

  “It’s too late for that. He already went to the estate and got people stirred up that you was raped there. Got important people stirred up. He made demands. He wants justice. Inger is going to make you tell who hurt you.”

  “He can’t.”

  “He’s Ander. You’re Haken. He can. Even if he changed his mind and didn’t, because of the hornets’ nest he swatted, the people at the estate might decide to haul you before the Magistrate and have him put an order on you to name the person.”

  “I’ll just deny it all.” She hesitated. “That couldn’t make me tell.”

  “No? Well it would sure make you a criminal, if you refused to tell them what happened. They think it’s Haken men who did it and so they want the names. Inger is an Ander and he said it happened. If you didn’t tell them what they ask they’d likely put you in chains until you changed your mind. Even if they didn’t, at the least, you’d lose your work. You’d be an outcast.

  “You said you wanted to join the army, someday—that it’s your dream. Criminals can’t join the army. That dream would be gone. You’d be a beggar.”

  “I’d find work. I work hard.”

  “You’re Haken. Refusing to cooperate with a Magistrate would get you named a criminal. No one would hire you. You’d end up a prostitute.”

  “I would not!”

  “Yes you would. When you got hungry and cold enough, you would. You’d have to sell yourself to men. Old men. Master Campbell told me the prostitutes get horrible diseases and die. You’d die like that, from being with old men who—”

  “I would not! Fitch, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.”