Original subtitles

Fear not, Sister Portia.

The Keeper of the Underworld

will reward you for your sacrifice.

I have no fear.

I long only for his embrace.

It will soon be yours.

Now.

Sister Nicci?

You've brought me back.

The Mother Confessor still walks,

and only your han is strong enough to kill her.

I think I know a way to find her.

How about some rosemary?

Ooh, good.

What would your mothers say?

About our ability to create ambrosial delights

from roots and herbs scavenged from the wilderness?

No, about two strong men fussing over the fire

while a woman chops wood for them.

On a good team, each member performs

in accordance with their abilities,

and judging by your recent attempts to produce

something approximating corn cake,

it might be best for you to stick to chopping.

Kahlan!

Richard, wait!

Hyah!

Kahlan!

They flew over that ridge. I can't see which way they went.

Gars are hungry beasts.

Only trained ones save their prey until later.

And the only trained Gars in the Midlands

are the personal pets of the Margrave of Rothenberg,

the richest man in all the territories.

Rothenberg is days from here,

Kahlan could be dead by the time we get there.

If the Margrave had ordered his Gars to kill her,

she'd be dead already.

He must want her alive for some reason.

Well, let's go before he changes his mind.

I must warn you.

The ancient Lords of Rothenberg had a powerful spell

of protection cast on the walls of their realm.

Within those walls, no magic has any power.

Not my wizardry, not Cara's Agiels--

Not Kahlan's confessor power.

Hyah!

Herald.

Margrave?

Do you know who this woman is?

Yes, Your Majesty.

I saw her once, sitting in judgment in Aydindril.

She is Kahlan Amnell, the Confessor.

Send word to our friend that we're ready

to complete our agreement.

What agreement?

Who are you talking about?

You'll find out soon enough.

Take her to the dungeon.

You're a fool if you think

the Seeker isn't going to find me.

He'll never get here in time.

Nobody has ever escaped the Margrave's dungeon.

There's always a way out.

You don't know the Margrave.

I take it you do.

I'm his wife.

What are you doing in his dungeon?

My husband has grown tired of me,

and wishes to marry another.

But the Law of Right and Good

forbids anyone to break their marriage vows

so he has sentenced me to death.

On what grounds?

He needs none.

According to the law,

the Margrave's word is final and absolute.

I'm Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor,

and the only laws in the Midlands

are the ones that I enforce.

I've never heard of this Law of Right and Good.

But I swear to you on the Creator and all the Spirits

that I am going to get us out of here.

No.

When the Margrave chooses his new bride,

his executioner is going to take me to the block.

And I must accept that.

Sister Nicci.

You spent your life praying

to be united with the Keeper.

And now here you are, back in the world of the living.

My sisters brought me back

so I could do what you and your minions

failed to do, time and again:

capture the Mother Confessor.

If you have the Mother Confessor,

then why are you not laying her lifeless body at my feet?

I sent word to the Margrave of Rothenberg,

asking him to send his Gars for her.

She's at the Margrave's dungeon,

a place where the Seeker and his friends

will be unable to use magic to rescue her.

Very clever.

So clever, in fact, that I'm left wondering

what you might possibly need from me.

In exchange for turning the Mother Confessor over to me,

the Margrave wants a guarantee,

signed in the Keeper's blood,

that when the Keeper puts an end to all life,

he and his court will be granted eternal immunity from death.

Do you think the Keeper

is interested in almost winning?

Remember the Prophecy, Darken Rahl.

As long as the Mother Confessor's pure heart beats,

the Keeper is doomed to fail.

A handful of lives isn't many to spare,

in exchange for millions.

I will convey your message to the Keeper,

and persuade him to accept your terms.

We could tunnel under the ramparts there.

They don't look more than 20 hands thick.

We have no time for tunneling.

There's almost no time at all.

With the help of a listening spell,

I've done some eavesdropping outside the walls.

There's a rumor that the Margrave has struck a deal

with the Sisters of the Dark.

What kind of deal?

Eternal life for the Margrave and his court,

in exchange for Kahlan's head.

We have to get in there.

We can get over the wall.

And once we're inside?

It'd be three against hundreds,

with no magic at our disposal.

I believe there's another way.

Apparently, the Margrave is about to choose a new bride,

to share with him the eternity

he is purchasing with Kahlan's life.

Every high-born beauty in the Midlands

has been competing to be chosen

but the Margrave has narrowed the selection

to the Countess of Dunstable and the Princess of Thryce.

They'll both be arriving at the palace tomorrow morning,

where the Margrave-- Why are you telling us

the local gossip, when Kahlan is going to be

handed over to the Sisters of the Dark?

Because the Margrave has known the countess for years,

but he knows the princess only by her glowing reputation.

He has never actually laid eyes on her.

If the princess and her retinue

happened to be intercepted on their way,

we could arrive at the palace in their place,

and be welcomed with open arms.

All we'd need is a princess.

Hm.

Oh, no. Mm-mm.

Cara, it could work.

- I'm no princess. - No, you're not.

Especially not this princess,

who is renowned for her delicacy, her charm,

and most especially her virtue.

But the impossibility of the task

must not prevent us from undertaking it.

Her Serene Highness,

Princess Lorelyn of Thryce.

I think we should dig the tunnel.

Prince Roderick,

renowned for his golden locks, and his prowess.

He doesn't look like much of a fighter.

Not that kind of prowess.

His reputation is not the only thing

that precedes him into the room.

If the stories are true,

he's won the favors of a thousand women.

Wives have been known to poison their husbands

for a chance to be number 1001.

And I shall impersonate

the princess' beloved aunt,

the Dowager Duchess of Thryce.

Zedd, I thought you couldn't use magic to change our appearance.

The spell would dissolve once we passed the gates.

I don't need magic to perpetrate the illusion,

just a little color on my cheeks and my skills as a thespian.

Now, to find a quiet place where our royal friends

can take a nice long magical nap.

What's that?

Chamomile, quince and a touch of saffron.

My mother's recipe for putting a little gold in her tresses.

Should work just as well on you.

Would that your transformation were as simple.

You must unlearn everything

you know and believe.

To begin with, you must never look any man

in the palace directly in the eye.

You must never speak your mind on any subject,

but always defer to the opinion

of your masculine betters.

There's no such thing.

Exactly the attitude

you must abandon.

Most challenging of all,

when in the Margrave's presence,

a lady must always, without exception,

speak in rhyming dactylic tetrameter.

In what?

A poetic meter,

in which each line consists of four groups

of three-syllable phrases with the accent

on the first syllable,

and the first syllable of the fourth phrase

of each line must rhyme with the corresponding syllable

on the line before it. Hm?

You're making this up.

I passionately wish I were.

I shall demonstrate by example.

If the Margrave were to ask you

"Hasn't the weather been nice lately?"

You might answer,

"The night was a tumult of thunder and storm,

but ever since then it's been lovely and warm."

Care to try?

There is no way I'm going to win this competition.

You don't have to win.

You just need to keep us in the game long enough

for Richard to find Kahlan and rescue her.

Her Luminous Majesty, the Princess of Thryce.

Her brother, Prince Roderick the Golden.

Her Eminence, the Dowager Duchess of Thryce.

Her Celestial Munificence,

the Countess Drucilla of Dunstable.

And her companion, the Viscountess of Wollingsworth.

Welcome, Your Highnesses.

Drucilla, my friend,

is your father the count feeling any better?

If at the Creator's feet I did kneel,

and she were to grant me the power to heal,

no greater balm could my father desire,

than the wishes that issue from you, my dear sire.

No greater balm could I desire,

than your grace and charm in my home.

I have received many glowing reports

of your beauty, princess,

but even the most glowing of all

failed to do justice to your radiance.

I take it your journey was pleasant and safe?

The journey was lovely.

With only one minus:

How long it took to travel

to the palace of Your Highness.

I confess that I'm puzzled.

I heard that in the art of meter and rhyme,

nobody surpasses the Princess of Thryce.

If I may request your permission to speak,

O great one, before whom the mighty are meek.

By all means, duchess.

From the rigors of travel the princess is weary,

her senses are dulled and her vision is bleary,

but I can assure you that when she has rested,

the best you have heard

is quite sure to be bested.

I hope that's the case.

If not, I'll soon be thanking your niece

for taking the trouble to travel all this distance,

and wishing her a safe and speedy journey home.

There are only five guards.

If you help me get them all into the cell, I can take them.

That's impossible.

Women are forbidden to take up arms.

It's the law.

Luncheon is served, Your Highness.

Thank you.

Why did you thank him?

Why did you look down like that?

Because I'm no longer the reigning monarch,

and by the Law of Right and Good only the reigning monarch

can look into the countenance of a man.

Arla, does the Law of Right and Good

command you to die?

The law says that if a woman disobeys her husband

she will wander forever in the Underworld,

without family or friends, utterly alone.

But if she dies in accord with the law,

she will be reunited with her loved ones,

in eternal peace.

Zedd With grace, Cara.

Grace. The gavotte is a courtly dance,

not a military march.

Turning out, and--

Turning out, not in.

Why am I still in this room?

Because if you go nosing about

the Margrave's palace without his permission

you'll be stopped by the first guard who sees you.

We're to wait until the Margrave summons us.

As I was saying.

Who is it?

It is I, the Margrave's Herald.

Forgive my intrusion.

The Margrave has requested the princess' presence

in the throne room.

Inform the Margrave we shall come at once.

Of course, duchess.

If you will inform the princess that she is looking lovely.

Uh, as-- As is her aunt.

Who has brought to the stone confines of Rothenberg

a welcome breath of elegance and grace.

In order to comply with the Margrave's request,

the princess must complete her toilette.

I think you have an admirer.

Is there any reason why I shouldn't?

Your Majesty, may I ask you a favor?

You have only to name it.

I've always dreamed of seeing

the wonders of the Palace of Rothenberg.

Would it be all right if I did some exploring?

. Give Prince Roderick the royal tour.

And see that you stay close by his side.

We wouldn't want our guest losing his way.

And this is the very spot that the Duke of Aspasia

was murdered in cold blood by his mad nephew Hamling.

Fascinating.

You can see traces of his blood on the keystone of that arch.

Oh, madam, you've dropped your handkerchief.

I believe that was an invitation, sir.

Of course, an invitation.

So the stories are true, Your Highness?

A thousand conquests to your name?

Well, who keeps count, really.

Whatever the numbers may be, perhaps you're in a position

to offer me some advice?

In, uh, a matter of the heart.

Would the object of your affection

happen be my aunt, sir?

I've been alone in this palace for a long time.

I could put in a word for you,

if you'll do me a favor in return.

Anything, sir.

I'm building a dungeon back in Thryce,

and I've heard there's nothing equal

to the one you've got here.

I'd love to have a look at it, maybe get some ideas.

Alas, that is one favor I am forbidden to grant.

You see, the entire north wing, which houses the dungeon,

is off limits to visitors.

Well, unfortunately, my aunt's petticoats

will be off limits to you, sir.

The stones for the dungeon

were dragged by oxen from the quarry at Rivington.

These are the famous Gates of Misery.

Each of the panels weighs 27 imperial tons.

My interest in the dungeon isn't strictly architectural.

Of all the women whose delights I have sampled,

the one I've wanted most...

...the Mother Confessor,

has always been too dangerous to touch.

But now, if the rumors are true,

she's within my reach,

in a place where her magic has no power.

If you were to get me passed those gates,

I would do more than put in a word for you with my aunt.

I could virtually assure you of success.

The only key to the dungeon

is in the Margrave's personal possession.

And at the moment, nobody is allowed

through the Gates of Misery.

Not even the jailers guarding the prisoners

in the cells will be allowed out of the dungeon until--

Until what?

Forgive me, sir.

I believe it is time we returned to the throne room.

Your palace is stunning, O Margrave serene.

The gardens the loveliest I've ever seen.

The lilies, the roses, the hyacinths blue,

all gather their beauty

in tribute to you.

Clean that up at once!

Servants these days are hopeless, my liege.

One feels in one's house as if under siege.

Too true, countess.

In my father's day, people knew their place.

There was such a thing as discipline.

When my servants drop things, or grumble, or whine,

it's never too long before they're back in line.

Tell me how you manage it, princess.

Once, long ago,

I was training a slave,

who endeavored most stubbornly

not to behave.

So I cut off a finger or two with a knife,

and threatened to slaughter his child and his wife.

Then I stripped him down naked, and strapped to a horse,

I dragged him through miles of bramble and gorse,

poured salt in the wounds and rolled him in rubble,

and that was the last time he gave any trouble.

Impressive.

I'll have to give it a try.

The dungeon isn't heavily guarded,

but only the Margrave has the key.

There may be a way to get it from him.

Have you noticed the way

the women in the palace look at you?

Noticed?

I've already had three handkerchiefs

and a garter belt slipped into my pockets.

Why?

The Margrave's sister Millicent may know where

her brother keeps the key.

If you were to work your charms on her--

Or should I say Prince Roderick's charms.

--perhaps you could convince her to get it for you.

Where is she?

Over there.

No, not that one.

The other one.

May the Spirits be with me.

Oh, princess,

I'm filled with much admiration.

You must show the Margrave your lovely creation.

My humble attempt could not ever compare

with something so elegant,

simple and spare, so filled with the light

of the good and the true.

Alas, what you see is the best I can do.

Perhaps the princess has not yet recovered

from the rigors of travel?

When her mother was killed in a fall from the saddle,

she was raised by her father on the trail of battle.

While deficient, perhaps,

in the making of lace,

she has mastered the arts of the hunt and the chase.

The forests of Rothenberg, so I am told,

are teaming with Shadrins ferocious and bold.

Would it be asking a favor too terribly blunt,

if I begged you to give us the thrill of a hunt?

A wife I could hunt with.

Now, that would be something worth having.

Does the idea of a hunt sound like fun to you, countess?

That which amuses the Margrave,

of course, is to me, of amusement,

the ultimate source.

Then we shall have a hunt this afternoon.

Herald, see to the arrangements.

Oh! Ha-ha!

You know what?

Bedchambers are so boring.

Have you ever sampled the delights of love in chains?

Sounds exciting.

Then shall we continue this in the dungeon?

I wish we could,

but only my brother has the key.

Oh.

Get it from him.

Women are never allowed

to carry the keys to anything.

But that's all right.

We'll make our own chains right here.

Unhand her, knave.

Thank you, countess, for alerting me

to this violation of my sister's honor.

Guards.

When you are presentable, you will stand before me,

and be sentenced for your crime.

I am sorry to dim

the joyous occasion of my upcoming betrothal,

but there is no question

that in so flagrant a display of indecent behavior,

the Law of Right and Good

calls for a sentence of death.

Brother, you're always so mean and unfair.

If you care for my feelings, his life you will spare.

After you've chosen a bride, you'll be set.

You'll have a darling to coddle and pet.

You'll have a plaything

that's yours for all time.

Why shouldn't I have a plaything that's mine?

Out of the great love I feel for my sister,

I will temper justice with mercy.

Are you willing to marry the woman you have defiled?

Not willing, sir.

Eager.

It is my greatest wish.

Then your wish is granted.

But until you are properly wed,

my guards shall stay with you wherever you go,

to make sure you don't assault the virtue

of any more ladies of this court.

And now to the hunt.

I'll never get near the dungeon now.

I'm afraid there's only one hope left to us.

For Cara to get close enough to the Margrave

to steal the key.

You must do exactly as I say.

When in the hunt,

a woman must never take the lead,

she must never-- Forget the lessons.

I've minced and curtsied and rhymed,

and we still don't have the key.

I'll get it my way.

Without your Agiels?

I don't need magic to make a man beg for mercy.

My lady, forgive me for being so forward,

but if your niece should win,

then Rothenberg will be your home

as well as mine for a very long time.

It will be good not to be alone

in those cold and drafty halls.

You're very forward indeed, sir.

I know I am below your station,

but my influence with the Margrave is great.

I could do much to advance the cause of your princess

over that of her rival.

That is, if you should wish to share my interest in

not being alone.

Hm.

Oh, the-- The beast,

I have seen it, its fury outrageous.

Please kill it and save us, O Margrave courageous!

Ugh!

Mm.

Where I come from,

the raw liver of a Shadrin is considered

a powerful aphrodisiac.

Would you like some?

Do you know how many Laws of Right and Good

you have just broken?

It's your choice, Margrave.

An eternity of right and good,

or an eternity of me.

Your Majesty, with the hope

that we will soon be brothers-in-law twice over,

I drink to your health.

Our esteemed visitor

from the far reaches of the Old World,

Sister Nicci.

Welcome to Rothenberg, Sister Nicci.

You're just in time to join our banquet.

I'm not here for revelry, Margrave.

I'm here to complete our arrangement.

Do you have what I was promised?

Our agreement, signed in the Keeper's blood.

Do you have what I was promised?

She awaits in my dungeon.

But before Iend for her, I need to see if the contract

reflects the terms we agreed on.

Of course.

We've just gotten word

that the Margrave's special visitor's arrived.

You know what that means, don't you, ladies?

Almost time to line up for the block.

Who wants to go first?

We can't wait any longer.

I can't do the thing you're asking.

Any woman who took up arms would die instantly,

and be damned for eternity.

I've taken up arms all my life

and I haven't died.

I was taken from my people in Nargoth when I was a child,

and raised in Rothenberg to be the Margrave's wife.

If I die as the law bids me to,

I'll be reunited with my mother and father

in the Underworld.

If I die, the Keeper will destroy all of life.

Do you understand that?

The Law of Right and Good says that to a woman

understanding is not given.

And who wrote this Law of Right and Good?

A man?

No.

The Creator wrote the law.

In her own hand.

And what does the law say about the Creator?

It is written:

"From the Source of Light

"flows all that is good,

"all that is love,

and all that is peace."

So you believe that the source of all that is good

would punish someone for staying alive

so that she could hold her mother in her arms again?

Do you believe that the Creator

wants all of life to be destroyed?

I'm frightened.

The Creator will be with us,

every step of the way.

I hope you're as bored with this gathering as I am.

Because I'm very eager to show you

what you're going to have for eternity

once I'm your bride.

This is an extremely important matter.

And I'm an extremely impatient woman.

If you make me wait a second longer,

I may change my mind.

Meet me in the corridor.

Gracious guests,

I must attend to an important matter of state.

I beg your leave while I retire briefly to my chambers.

Very briefly, I hope.

I will do my best.

I fear I have overindulged in the fare,

I seem to be needing a bit of fresh air.

Send them away.

I don't want anyone else hearing my moans of ecstasy.

They're all for you.

Leave us.

Give me the key to the dungeon.

Who are you?

The person who's going to get the key from you,

one way or another.

I have waited long enough.

Tell the Margrave that if he's interested

what I have to offer, he will return at once.

I would be happy to, madam.

If I were not under strict instructions

not to interrupt him when he is attending

to a matter of state.

Who is this woman,

and why are you taking directions from her?

I don't know what you're talking about.

These drafty old halls have given me a nasty cold.

I know you from somewhere.

I can't imagine where, madam.

Let me see your face.

Madam?

Maybe you don't remember me

because you're not the only one whose appearance has changed

since the last time we saw each other.

But how could I ever forget the man who killed me?

This is no woman.

This is the Wizard, Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander.

Impossible.

The Seeker.

- What? - Kill them both.

Take me to the dungeon.

There's no need for a weapon.

I will happily show you the way.

Tell me where the key is,

or there's going to be a royal decapitation.

It's sewn inside my vest.

Dear Margrave, the sight of your face makes me sick.

You decadent, pompous, self-satisfied--

Help!

The Mother Confessor, I think she stopped breathing!

If she dies on my watch, I'll be the one on the block.

What happened?

She slashed her own throat.

She said she didn't want to give the Margrave the satisfaction.

Dark Spirits on the race of Confessors.

The Mother Confessor's cell is through that gate.

We have to go.

I can't. The law.

But you fought them. For you.

But your laws are not my laws.

I can't disobey my husband.

My life is in his hands.

I can't leave you.

You must.

So you can defeat the Keeper.

Your life is in your hands, Arla.

Only yours.

Duck.

Cara!

It's over, Nicci. You have no magic here.

You're defenseless.

I still have all the magic I've ever had...

outside this palace.

Kahlan.

Your Majesty.

Your Majesty, are you all right?

What happened? Where is she?

The Royal Party of Thryce

was not the Royal Party of Thryce.

They deceived us all.

They're gone.

And Sister Nicci?

Gone also, Margrave.

Well, if I'm not going to live forever,

I'll spend my years with a beautiful wife.

Summon Countess Drucilla.

And let it be known I've chosen her to be my bride.

Alas, when she discovered that eternity

was not part of the marriage contract,

she departed.

Then bring the queen from the dungeon.

Tell her all has been forgiven.

It's better to have an old reliable mare

than no horse at all, wouldn't you say?

Unfortunately, the queen has escaped.

But don't despair, Your Majesty.

You will always have me.

East.

That'll take us close to Nargoth.

We'll make sure you get home safe.

Thank you.

Should move fast.

Nicci may have run away, but she'll be back.

With her powers.

To Nargoth, then.

Uh, not until I get out of this dress.

Why?

A little lower on the neckline,

you may never need another Agiel.

And had you done this a year ago,

Darken Rah would have surrendered at the sight of you.

And if you're going to wear a hem that short,

you should get rid of the stockings

and show a little skin.

Ah.