Faith of the Fallen

"I've seen it done before, Victor. I've carved before. I've learned how to do it. I've thought about it for months. Ever since I started carving for them, this purpose has kept my mind alive. I've used my work for the Order to practice what I've seen, what I've learned, and what I've thought of on my own. Even before, when they questioned me. . I thought about this stone, about the statue I know is in it, to keep my mind from what they did to me."

"You mean it helped you to endure their torture?"

Richard nodded. "I can do it, Victor." He lifted a fist in firm conviction. "Flesh in stone. I only need the proper tools."

Victor rattled the gold in his fist. "Done. I can make the proper tools for what you want to do. This is what I know. I don't know how to carve, but this will be my part-what I can do to bring the beauty out."

Richard clasped forearms with Victor to seal their agreement.

"I have one thing I would ask you-as a favor."

Victor laughed his deep belly laugh. "I must feed you lardo so you may have the strength to carve this noble stone?"

Richard smiled. "I wouldn't ever turn down lardo."

"What is it then?" Victor asked. "What is the favor?"

Richard's fingers tenderly touched the stone. His stone.

"No one is to see it until it is done. That includes you. I would like to have a canvas tarp, so I can cover it. I would ask that you not look at it until it is done."

"Why?"

"Because I need it to be mine alone while I carve it. I need solitude with it as I shape it. When I'm finished, then the world can have it, but when I work on it, it is to be my vision and mine alone. I wish no one to see it before it is finished.

"But most of all, I don't want you to see it because if anything goes wrong, I don't want you involved in this. I don't want you to know what I do. If you don't see it, you can't be buried in the sky for not telling them."

Victor shrugged. "If that is your wish, then it shall be so. I will tell the men that the back room is rented, and it is off-limits. I will put a lock on the i

"Thank you. You don't know what that means to me."

"When do you need the chisels?"

"I need the heavy point to rough it out, first. Can you have it done by tonight? I need to get started. There isn't much time."

Victor dismissed Richard's concern with a flourish of his hand. "The heavy point is easy. I can make that in short order. It will be done when you come from your work down there-your work with the ugliness. Long before you need the other chisels, they will be ready for you to carve beauty."

"Thank you, Victor."

"What is this `thank you' talk? This is business. You have paid me in advancevalue for value between honest men. I can't tell you how good it is to have a customer other than the Order."

Victor scratched his head and turned more serious. "Richard, they will want to see your work, won't they? They will want to see how you are doing on their statue."

"I don't think so. They trust my work. They gave me the model they want scaled up. They have already approved it. They've told me my life depends on this. Neal delighted in telling me how he ordered those other carvers tortured and put to death. He wanted to frighten me. I doubt they will give it a second thought."

"But what if a Brother does come, wanting to see it?"

"Then I will have to bend an iron bar around his neck and let him pickle in the brine barrel."

CHAPTER 60

Richard touched the length of the point chisel to his forehead, as he had so often touched the Sword of Truth there in much the same way. This was no less a battle. This was life and death.

"Blade, be true this day," he whispered.

The chisel had eight sides, so as to provide grip in a sweaty hand.

Victor had given it a proper heavy blunt point. He had also put his initials-V C-in small letters on one of the facets, proclaiming the pride of its maker.

Such a heavy chisel would shatter stone and remove a great excess material in short order. It was a weapon that would do a lot of damage, fracturing the structure of the marble down the width of three fingers. A point used carelessly on u

Finer points would cause shallower fractures, but remove less material.

Even with the finest point punches, Richard knew that he could only approach to within the last half finger of the final layer. The network of spidery cracks left by a point were fractures in the crystalline structure of the marble itself. So damaged, the stone lost its translucence and its ability to take a high polish.

To do flesh in stone, the final layers had to be approached with care, and be left undamaged by any tool.

After the heavy point removed much of the waste, then finer-point chisels would allow Richard to get closer, refining the shape. Once he was within as close as a half finger of the final layer, he would turn to the clawed chisels, simply chisels with notches in their edge, to shear away the stone without fracturing the underlying structure of the marble. The coarse claws took off the most stone, leaving rough gouges. He would use chisels with a series of finer and finer teeth to refine the work. Finally, he would use smooth-bladed chisels, some only half as wide as his little finger.

Down at the site, where he carved scenes for the frieze, that was as far as the carvers went. It left an ugly surface, ungainly and coarse, rendering flesh as wooden, leaving no definition or refinement to muscle and bone. It robbed the people in the carvings of their humanity.

On this statue, Richard would really only begin where the carvings for the Order ended. He would use rasps to define bone, muscle, even veins in the arms. Fine files would remove the marks left by the rasps and refine the most subtle contours. The pumice stones would remove the filing marks, leaving the surface ready to polish with pumice paste held in leather, cloth, and finally straw.

If he did it right, he would have his vision in stone. Flesh in stone.

Nobility.

Holding the heavy point chisel to his palm with his thumb, Richard put his hand to the stone, feeling its cool surface. He knew what was inside-inside not only the stone, but inside himself.

There were no doubts, only the heart-pounding passion of expectation.

As he so often did, Richard thought of Kahlan. It had been nearly a year since he had looked into her green eyes, touched her cheek, held her in his arms. She would have long ago left the safety of their home for dangers he could vividly imagine. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with the weight of despair, choked by the sadness of how much he missed her, humbled at how much he loved her. Now he knew he must dismiss her from his mind so that he could devote himself entirely to the task he had to do.

As he so often did, Richard said his silent good-night to Kahlan.

Then he set the point at ninety degrees to the face of the stone, and took a powerful swing with the steel club. Stone chips exploded away.

His breaths came deeper and faster. It was begun.

With great violence, Richard attacked the stone.

By the light of lamps Victor left for him after the work day was done, Richard lost himself in the work, raining down blow upon blow. Sharp stone chips rattled off the wooden walls, and stung when they hit his arms or chest. With a clear vision of what he wanted to do, he broke away the waste stone.

His ears rang with the sound of steel on steel and steel on stone. It was music. Jagged chips and chunks fell away. They were the fallen enemy.

The air boiled with the white dust of battle.