按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
onfession。 Rahl managed to separate us from our wizards； and now they are dead too。 Except Zedd； and Giller。〃
Richard picked up the rabbit。 It was getting cold。 He cut off another piece and handed it to her； then tore off a piece for himself。 〃Why would the Confessors be feared and hated？〃
〃The relatives and friends of the man to be executed hate us because they often don't believe their loved one would do the things they confess to。 They would rather believe we somehow trick them in to confessing。〃 She picked at the meat； pulling off little pieces and chewing。 them slowly。 〃I have found that people do not often want to believe the truth。 It is of little value to them。 Some have tried to kill me。 This is one of the reasons a wizard was always with us； to protect us until our power is recovered。〃
Richard swallowed his mouthful。 〃That doesn't sound like enough reason to me。〃
〃It is more than simply what we do。 This must all sound very strange to someone who has not lived with it。 The ways of the Midlands； of magic； must seem very odd to you。〃
Odd was not the right word； he thought。 Frightening was more like it。
〃Confessors are independent； people resent that。 Men resent that none of them can rule us； or even tell us what to do。 Women resent that we do not live the kind of life they do； that we do not live in the traditional role of women； we do not take care of a man； or submit to one。 We are seen as privileged。 Our hair is long； a symbol of our authority； they are made to keep their hair short； as a sign of submission to their man and every other per… son of higher status than they。 It may seem a small matter to you； but to our people； no matter having to do with power is small。 A woman who allows her hair to grow beyond the length appropriate to her status is forced to forfeit some of that status in punishment。 In the Midlands； long hair on a woman is a sign of authority； bordering on defiance。 It is a sign that we have the power to do as we wish； and that none may mand us； that we are a threat to all。 Much as your sword tells people the same thing。 No Confessor would wear her hair short； and that rankles people； that none could dare make us do so。 It is ironic that we are less free than they； yet they don't see that part of it。 We do their distasteful tasks for them； and yet we are not free to choose what we will do with our own lives。 We are prisoners of our power。〃
Kahlan ate the rest of the meat he had given her while he thought about how ironic it also was that the Confessors brought love to the most hateful of criminals； yet they could not bring it to ones with whom they would choose closeness。 He knew there was something else she was trying to explain。
〃I think your long hair is pretty；〃 he said。 〃I like it the way it is。〃
Kahlan smiled。 〃Thank you。〃 She tossed the bones into the fire； watching it for a time； then looked down at her hands as she clicked her thumbnails together。 〃And then there is the matter of choosing a mate。〃
Richard finished his piece of meat and threw the bone in the fire。 He leaned back against the log； not liking the sound of this。 〃Choosing a mate？ What do you mean？〃
She studied her hands as if trying to find refuge in them。 〃When a Confessor reaches the age to be a proper mother； she must choose a mate。 A Confessor may choose any man she wishes； even one already married。 She may roam the Midlands； searching for a proper father to her daughters； one who is strong； and maybe one who is handsome to her eyes。 Whatever she wants。
〃Men are terrified of a Confessor who is looking for a mate； because they don't want to be chosen； to be touched by her。 Women are terrified because they don't want their man； or their brother； or their son to be taken。 They all know they have no say in the matter； any who stood in the way of a Confessor's choosing would be taken by her。 People are afraid of me； first because I am the Mother Confessor； and second because I am long past the time I should have chosen a mate。〃
Richard still clung tenaciously to his hopes and dreams。 〃But what if you care about someone； and they care for you？〃
Kahlan shook her head sadly。 〃Confessors have no friends but other Confessors。 It is not a problem； no one would ever have feelings for a Confessor。 Every man is afraid of us。〃 She left unsaid that it was a problem now。 Her voice was choking up again。 〃We are taught from a young age that the mate we choose must be a man of strength； so that the children we bear will be strong。 But it must not be someone we care for； because we would destroy him。 That is why nothing can e of 。 。 。 of us。〃
〃But 。 。 。 why？〃 He felt himself fighting against her words； her power。
〃Because 。 。 。〃 She looked away； her face unable to mask her pain； her green eyes filling with tears。 〃Because in the throes of passion； a Confessor's hold on the power would relax； and she would release it into him； even though she didn't mean to； and then he would no longer be the person she cared for。 There is no way for her to prevent herself from doing it。 None。 He would be hers； but not in the same way。 The very one she cared for would be with her； but only because of the magic； no longer by his choice； and not because he wanted to。 He would only be a shell； holding what she had put into him。 No Confessor would want that for a man for whom she cared。
〃That is why Confessors； since time long forgotten； have shut themselves away from men； for fear they would grow to care for one。 Though we are seen as heartless； it is not true； we all fear what our touch would do to a man we held dear。 Some Confessors choose men who are disliked； or even hated； so as not to destroy a kind heart。 Though it is only the choice of a few； it is the way they deal with it； and is their right。 No other Confessor would criticize one who has chosen in this manner； we all understand it。〃 Her tearful eyes looked at him； pleading for him to understand。
〃But 。 。 。 I could 。 。 。〃 He could think of no defense for his heart
〃I could not。 Foe me； it would be the same as you wanting to be with your mother； and instead having Shota； appe