"Just as well," the wizard said under his breath. "My plan does not include him."
"Richard keeps a secret from you," she said in a low voice. "If it were not for this business with
Rahl, I would not speak of it, but I thought you should know."
"As you well know, we all have secrets, wizards more than most. If we all knew each other's
secrets, it would prove a very strange world. Besides, it would take all the fun out of the telling of
them." His thin lips widened in a smile, his eyes sparkled. "But I fear no secret of a person I trust,
and he has no need to fear mine. It is part of being friends."
Zedd shrugged. "As wizards go, I'm pretty harmless."
"That be a lie," the sorceress whispered in a low rasp.
"That be true."
Adie's smile widened. "Perhaps, someday you can return the favor."
"How long have they been gone?" Zedd asked at last.
Zedd finished his meal, pushing the bowl carefully away. He folded his thin hands on the table,
looking down as he tapped his thumbs together. The light from the lamp flickered and danced on
his mass of white hair.
For a moment Adie didn't answer. The wizard continued to wait, tapping his thumbs, until at last
she spoke. "I gave him a night stone."
Adie calmly looked up at him. "Would you have me send him through the pass, at night, without a
way to see? To be blind in the pass is a sure death. I wanted him to make it through. It be the only
way for me to help him."
"Of course I did."
Adie picked up two apples and tossed one to Zedd. He caught it in the air with a silent spell. It
floated, spinning slowly while he continued to glare at the old woman.
Zedd's sticklike fingers snatched the apple out of the air. "Bags, Adie, you don't understand.
Richard hates riddles, always has. He considers them an insult to honesty. He won't brook them. He
ignores them as a matter of, principle." The apple snapped as he took a big bite.
Zedd held up a bony finger. "Riddles of life, not words. There is a difference."
Zedd put his apple down and dismissed his anger with a wave of his hand. "I know you meant no
harm, Adie. I did not mean to suggest you did." He took Adie's hands in his. "It will be all right."
Zedd nodded. He closed his eyes and let his chin sink to his chest as he took three deep breaths.
Then he stopped breathing for a long time. From the air about came the low, soft sound of distant
wind, wind on an open plain: lonely, baleful, haunting. The sound of the wind left at last, and the
wizard began breathing again. His head came up, and his eyes opened.
Adie gave a nod of relief. "I will give you a bone to carry, so that you may go safely through the
pass. Will you go after him now?"
"Secrets?" the sorceress asked, smiling her little smile.
She took one hand out from under his and stroked his leathery skin.
"Dark," he agreed.
Zedd's eyes snapped up, looking at her from under his eyebrows. "Stay the night?"
"Well," Zedd's impish grin lit his face, "as you say, it is dark outside. And I guess it would make
more sense to start out in the morning." A sudden frown broke out, wrinkling his brow. "This isn't
one of your riddles, is it?"
"I have my wizard's rock along. Could I interest you?"
Zedd arched an eyebrow. "Naked?"
She didn't like taking him to the Mud People, but he was right, they had to know where to look for
the last box, and there was no one else anywhere near who could point them in the right direction.
Autumn was wearing on, and their time was dwindling. Still, the Mud People might not help them,
and then the time would be wasted
The path through the grasses came to two poles, one set to each side of the trail. They were
wrapped in skins dyed with red stripes. Richard stopped by the poles, looking up at the skulls fixed
atop them.
"No, they are the skulls of honored ancestors, meant to watch over their lands. Only the most
respected are accorded such recognition."
Kahlan turned to him and lifted an eyebrow. "One of the ways you get to be revered by the Mud
People is by killing outsiders." She looked back at the skulls. "But this is not meant as a threat to
others. It is simply a tradition of honor among themselves."
"Remember what I told you," she warned. "They may not want to help. You have to respect that if
it is their decision. These are some of the people I am trying to save. I don't want you to hurt them."
"They may not see it that way," she pressed. The rain had stopped, replaced by a light, cold mist
she felt on her face. She pushed the hood of her cloak back. "Richard, promise me you won't hurt
them."
"What?" she asked, a tone of suspicion in her voice.
Kahlan looked into his gray eyes, thinking of how much she wanted to stop Rahl, and thought of all
those she knew whom he had killed.
He nodded. "When I realized what was at stake. And when I realized what kind of person you were,
that you wouldn't do anything to harm anyone unless there was no choice. Then I felt foolish. For
not trusting you."
"I'm sorry," she said, the smile still on her lips. "I should know you better than that."
She had been to the village of the Mud People several times, none of them by invitation; they
would never request a Confessor. It was a common chore among Confessors, paying a professional
call on the different peoples of the Midlands. They had been polite enough, out of fear, but they had
made it clear that they handled their own affairs, and did not want outside involvement. They were
not a people who would respond to threats.
She nodded, and turned to the path once more. Clouds hung low and thick above the grassland,
seeming to boil slowly as they rolled along in an endless procession. Out on the plains, there
seemed to be much more sky than there was anywhere else. It was an overpowering presence,
dwarfing the unchanging, flat land.
She wished Richard would walk next to her, but he instead stayed behind, scanning the countryside,
watching out for her. He was in a strange land, taking nothing for granted, seeing threat in
everything. In Westland, she had felt the same way, so she understood the feeling. He was putting
his life at great peril against Rahl, against things he had never encountered before, and was right to
be wary. The wary died quick enough in the Midlands, the unwary faster still.
The eldest, a fit, wiry man she knew as Savidlin, approached her. The others waited, spears and
bows relaxed but ready. Kahlan could feel Richard's presence close behind her. Without turning,
she whispered for him- to stay calm and do as she did. Savidlin stopped in front of her.
"Strength to Savidlin and the Mud People, " she answered in their language.
"No, Richard!" He had the sword up, ready to strike. "No!" She grabbed his wrists. "I told you to
stay calm and do as I do."
"That is the way they greet people. It is meant to show respect for another's strength."
"I'm sorry I did not warn you. Richard, put the sword away."
"Who is this man with the temper?"
Whispers broke out among the other members of the hunting party. Savidlin's eyes sought
Richard's.
Kahlan told him what Savidlin had said. There was still a hot look on his face.
Savidlin propped himself up on one hand, rubbing his jaw with the other. A grin spread across his
face. "None has ever shown such respect for my strength! This is a wise man."
"What did he say?" Richard demanded.
Savidlin held his hand out for Richard to help him up. Warily, Richard complied. Once on his feet,
Savidlin slapped Richard on the back, putting an arm around his big shoulders.
Kahlan tried to hold back her laughter while she translated. The men were still snickering. Savidlin
turned to them.
They all held their hands out in front of themselves and shook their heads vigorously.
He turned back to Kahlan. "As always, Confessor Kahlan is welcome among the Mud People. "
Without looking over, he gave a nod of his head, indicating Richard. "Is he your mate?"
Savidlin tensed. "Then you have come here to choose one of our men?"
Savidlin looked greatly relieved. "The Confessor chooses dangerous traveling companions. " "Not
dangerous to me, only to those who would think to harm me. "
"You wear odd things. Different from before."
Savidlin backed away a little from her intense expression and gave a nod. His eyes narrowed. "And
why are you here?"
"Father Rahl," Savidlin announced knowingly.
Savidlin nodded. "A man came. He called himself' a missionary, said he wanted to teach us of the
goodness of one called Father Rahl. He talked to our people for three days, until we became tired of
him. "
"He was a good man. " Savidlin smiled meaningfully.
"What are they saying?"
"Tell them I want to talk to their people, that I need them to call a gathering."
Richard smiled. "No, she was wrong. I am very patient, but I am not very tolerant. There is a
difference."
He agreed, folding his arms in frustration. She turned once more to the elder. He peered at her
sharply and asked something that surprised her.
Kahlan frowned. "Well, I guess you could say that. " She was confused by the question and didn't
know what to say, so told him the truth. "The clouds follow him. "
"Savidlin, the Seeker has come to see your people on my advice. He is not here to harm or interfere
with your people. You know me. l have been among you before. You know of my respect for the
Mud People. 1 would not bring another to you unless it was important. Right now, time is our
enemy. "
"As 1 said before, you are welcome among us. " He looked up with a grin at the Seeker, then back
to her. "Richard With The Temper is most welcome in our village too. "
"I told you I would win them over," Richard said with a grin as he looked at her over their heads. "I
just never thought I would do it by laying one of them out."
Set in a rough circle around an open area, the buildings were one-room family homes clustered
tightly on the south side, most sharing at least one common wall, narrow walkways passing
between the homes here and there, and communal buildings grouped together on the north. A
variety of structures placed loosely on the east and west separated them. Some of these were
nothing more than four poles with grass roofs, used as places to eat, or as work areas for making
weapons and pottery, or as food preparation and cooking areas. In dry times the whole village was
shrouded in a fog of dust that clogged the eyes, nose, and tongue, but now its buildings were
washed clean by the rain, and on the ground a thousand footprints were turned to puddles that
reflected the drab buildings above.
Kahlan felt their shy eyes on her. She knew from being here before that she was the object of great
interest among the young girls, a traveler who had been to strange places and seen all sorts of
things. A woman whom men feared and respected. The older women abided the distraction with
understanding indulgence.
The knot of children offered up scraps of food as bribes for stories of who the strangers might be.
The men laughed, declining the offerings in favor of saving the tale for the elders. Only slightly
disappointed, the children continued to dance about, this being the most exciting thing that had
happened in their young lives; something very much out of the ordinary, with a distinct tinge of
danger.
The children stayed back from the pole building, sitting in the mud to watch as the hunting party
brought the outsiders to the elders. The women had halted their work at the cooking fires, as had
the young men their weapons making, and all fell silent, including the children sitting in the mud.
Business among the Mud People was conducted in the open, for all to see.
"Strength to Confessor Kahlan, " said the eldest.
He gave her face a gentle slap, hardly more than a pat. It was their custom to give only small slaps
in the village proper. Heartier ones like Savidlin had delivered were reserved for chance meetings
out on the plain, away from the village. The gentler custom helped preserve order, and teeth. Surin,
Caldus, Arbrin, Breginderin, and Hajanlet each in turn offered strength and a small slap. Kahlan
returned the greetings and the gentle slaps. They turned to Richard. Savidlin stepped forward,
pulling his new friend with him. He proudly displayed his swollen lip to the elders.
He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, and a mischievous smile.
Kahlan began to worry; she didn't know what Savidlin was talking about. The elders remained
stone faced, except Toffalar, who lifted an eyebrow.
"Strength to Toffalar," he answered in his own language, having recognized his name, and
immediately returned the slap.
And then they did something very odd.
"What's going on?" Richard asked out of the side of his mouth, alerted by her anxiety.
The men rose to their feet, all smiles. Toffalar held his hand up and motioned over their heads to
the women.
Pulling Richard down with her, Kahlan sat cross-legged on the wet wooden floor. The elders
waited until they were seated before seating themselves, paying no attention to the fact that Richard
kept his hand near his sword. Women came with woven trays stacked high with loaves of round,
flat tava bread and other food, offering them first to Toffalar and then the other elders, as they kept
their eyes and smiles on Richard. They chatted softly among themselves about how big Richard
With The Temper was, and what odd clothes he wore. They mostly ignored Kahlan.
Toffalar took his bread and tore it into three sections, offering a third to Richard first and then a
third to Kahlan. With a smile, another woman offered a bowl of roasted peppers to each. Kahlan
and Richard both took one, and following the elder's example, rolled them in the .bread. She
noticed just in time that Richard was keeping his right hand near his sword and was about to eat
with his left
He froze. "Why?"
"That's foolish," he said, an intolerant tone in his voice.
She could feel his gaze on her as she smiled at the elders. Out of the comer of her eye she saw with
relief that he switched the food to his right hand.
"No!" Kahlan blurted out. "I mean, we do not want to impose upon your people. "
"We are here because the Mud People, among others, are in great danger. "
Kahlan looked around at their happy, smiling faces. She didn't know what to make of this
development, and so took a bite of the flat-tasting tava bread with roasted peppers to gain time to
think it over.
"For some reason, they are glad I brought you here."
She gave him a nod, and turned to Toffalar. "Honored elder, I am afraid I must admit that I am
without your knowledge of Richard With The Temper. "
"And so you are happy that he is here, because he is an omen?"
Kahlan almost dropped her bread. She sat back in surprise.
She stared into his eyes. "They had a gathering, to bring rain. The spirits told them someone would
come, and bring the rain. Richard, they think you are a spirit of their ancestors. A spirit man."
"They think you are. Richard, they would do anything for a spirit. They will call a council of seers
if you ask."
"No," he said quietly while holding her gaze.
"It matters because it's a lie. I won't do it."
He gave her a cross look. "First of all, I will not do it because it's wrong to deceive these people
about something as important as this. Secondly, these people have a power; that is why we are here.
They have proven it to me by the fact that they said one would come with the rains. That part is
true. In their excitement, they have jumped to a conclusion that is not. Did they say the one who
would come would be a spirit?" She shook her head. "People sometimes believe things simply
because they want to."
"The harm is in their power. What if they call the gathering and they see the truth, that I'm not a
spirit? Do you think they will be pleased that we lied to them, tricked them'? Then we will be dead,
and Rahl wins." She leaned back and took a deep breath. The wizard chooses his Seekers well, she
thought.
"He wants to know why you are angry," she said. "What shall I tell him?"
Kahlan nodded her agreement.
There were nods, but not as many. "What are you saying, great spirit?" asked Arbrin, one of the
elders in the back.
There were snickers among the elders. "Then he sends fools to be our masters, " Toffalar said.
"No. Rahl sent the clouds to follow me, not to save you. I chose to come here, just as your spirit
ancestors said I would. They said the rains would come, and a man would come when they did.
They did not say I would be a spirit."
"Then maybe the message of the spirits was a warning about the man that would come, " Surin
said.
The elders considered in silence. "Your words .seem to flow true, Richard With The Temper, but it
is yet to be decided," Toffalar said at last. "What is it you want from us?"
"Darken Rahl looks for a magic that will give him the power to rule everyone, including the Mud
People. I look for this magic also, so that I might deny him the power. I would like you to call a
council of seers, to tell me where I might find this magic, before it is too late, before Rahl finds it
first."
Kahlan could tell that Richard was getting angry and straining to control himself. She didn't move
her head, but her eyes swept around, gauging where everyone was, especially the men with
weapons, in case they bad to fight their way out. She didn't judge their chances of escape to be very
good. Suddenly, she wished she had never brought him here.
As Kahlan translated, she was suddenly suffused with the cold feeling that Richard was not talking
to the elders. He was speaking to someone else. She suddenly felt the eyes of that other on her. Her
own gaze swept the crowd. All eyes were on the two of them; she didn't know whose gaze she still
felt.
The elders departed, through the light rain, toward the communal buildings. The crowd went back
to their business, shooing the children as they went. Savidlin was the last to leave. He smiled and
offered his help in anything they might need. She thanked him as he stepped off into the rain.
Kahlan and Richard sat alone on the wet wooden floor, dodging the drips of rainwater leaking
through the roof. The woven trays of tava bread and the bowl of roasted peppers remained behind.
She leaned over and took one of each, wrapping the bread around the pepper. She handed it to
Richard and made herself another.
"No," she admitted with a smile- "I am proud of you."
"Look over my right shoulder. There is a man leaning against the wall, long gray hair, arms folded
across his chest. Tell me if you know who he is."
"He is the Bird Man. I don't know anything about him, except that he can call birds to himself."
"Why?"
Kahlan frowned. "The elders are in charge." Richard smiled with one side of his mouth. "My
brother always says that real power is not brokered in public." He watched her intently with his
gray eyes. "The elders are for show. They are respected, and so are put on display for others to see.
Like the skulls on the poles, only they still have the skin on them. They have authority because they
are esteemed, but they are not in charge." With a quick flick of his eyes, Richard indicated the Bird
Man leaning against the wall behind him. "He is."
"Because," he said, grinning, "he wants to know how smart we are."
They walked across the mud, through the cold rain, toward the Bird Man. He still leaned against the
wall, his sharp brown eyes watching them come. Long hair, mostly silver-gray, lay on his
shoulders, flowing partway down the deerskin tunic that matched his pants. His clothes had no
decoration, but a bone carving hung on a leather thong around his neck. Not old, but not young, and
still handsome, he was about as tall as she. The skin of his weathered face was as tough-looking as
the deerskin clothes he wore.
Richard folded his arms across his own chest. "I would like to talk to you, if you are not afraid I
might be a spirit."
"I have seen spirits before, " he said in a quiet voice. "They do not carry swords. "
"I also have seen spirits, and you are right, they do not carry swords." A small smile curled the
corners of the Bird Man's mouth. He unfolded his arms and stood up straight. "Strength to the
Seeker." He gave Richard a gentle slap.
The Bird Man took the bone carving that hung on the leather thong at his neck, and put it to his
lips. Kahlan realized it was a whistle. His cheeks puffed out as he blew, . but there was no sound.
Letting the whistle drop back, he held his arm out while he continued to hold Richard's eyes. After
a moment, a hawk wheeled out of the gray sky and alighted on his outstretched arm. It fluffed its
feathers, then let them settle as its black eyes blinked and its head swiveled about in short, jerky
movements.
He led them among the large communal buildings, to a smaller one at the back, set away from the
others. Kahlan knew the building with no windows, although she had never been in it. It was the
spirit house, where the gatherings were held.
The Bird Man looked at Kahlan's eyes. She could tell he was used to having people be afraid when
he looked at them, even if it wasn't warranted. She could tell because she was used to the same
thing. This time he found no fear.
Kahlan decided she didn't like his tone. He was testing. "No.
He smiled slightly. "No. I apologize. I did not mean to offend you. Why are you not with a
wizard?"
His eyes looked genuinely sympathetic, but his tone still was not. "It is dangerous for a Confessor
to be alone. "
"Perhaps, " he said, stroking the hawk, his slight smile returning. "Perhaps. This one is a true
Seeker? One named by a wizard?"
The Bird Man nodded. "It has been many years since I have seen a true Seeker. A Seeker who was
not a real Seeker came here one time. He killed some of my people when we would not give him
what he wanted."
He shook his head slowly. "Do not be. They died quickly. Be sorry for the Seeker. He did not. "
The hawk blinked as it looked at her.
He studied her eyes for a moment, seeming to judge the truth of what she said. "Thank you for the
warning. I will remember your words. "
Kahlan looked at him in surprise. "I thought you couldn't understand their language."
Kahlan turned back to the Bird Man. "The Seeker wishes to know if we are finished threatening
each other. "
She nodded. "l have told him so myself. He denies it. " "It must be a burden traveling with him. "
The Bird Man returned her smile, and then addressed his gaze to Richard. "If we choose not to help
you, how many of us will you kill?"
"None."
"Sooner or later, a great many."
A smile spread across Richard's face. "If you choose not to help me and remain neutral, foolish as
that would be, it is your right, and I will harm none of your people. But Rahl will. I will press on
and fight against him with my last breath if need be."
The Bird Man sat stone-faced, no quick retort at hand. "We wish only to be left alone, " he said at
last.
The Bird Man sat quiet and still for a while. "I can see now that I do not want Darken Rahl for an
enemy. Or you. " He got up and went to the door, casting the hawk into the sky. The Bird Man sat
once more, sighing heavily with the weight of his thoughts. "Your words seem to flow true, but 1
cannot know for sure yet. It would also seem that although you want us to help you, you also wish
to help us. I believe you are sincere in this. It is a wise man who seeks help by helping, and not by
threats or tricks. "
The corners of the Bird Man's mouth turned up in a small smile. "If we had held a gathering, we
would have discovered you were not. A wise man would suspect that too. So which reason is it that
made you tell the truth? You did not want to trick us, or you were afraid to?"
The Bird Man nodded. "Thank you for the truth. "
"It is not that simple. My people look to me for direction. If you asked for food, I could say `Give
him food,' and they would do so. But you have asked for a gathering. That is different. The council
of seers are the six elders you spoke to, plus myself. They are old men, firm in the ways of their
past. An outsider has never been given a gathering before, never been permitted to disturb the peace
of our ancestors' .spirits. Soon these six will join the ancestors' spirits, and they do not want to think
they will be called from the spirit world for an outsider's needs. If they break the tradition, they will
be forever burdened with the results. I cannot order them to do this. "
"Maybe in the end, " the Bird Man said, "but not in the beginning. " "What if I were one of the Mud
People?" Richard asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Could you make me one of the Mud People?"
"And once you named me as one of the Mud People, I could ask for a gathering. and they would
call it?"
"And if they called the council, would they be able to tell me where the object I seek is located?"
Richard looked down at the ground, thinking. With his finger, he pushed some dirt into one of the
puddles where the rain dripped.
Kahlan had been giving this consideration all day. "I do. But of all the ones I know of, I do not
know of any who would be any more eager to help us than the Mud People are. Some would kill us
just for asking."
"Three weeks, at least, north, through very dangerous country controlled by Rahl."
"But Richard, the Bird Man is able to promise us precious little. If you could find a way to help
them, if it pleases the elders, if they ask the Bird Man to name you one of the Mud People, if the
council of seers can get an answer, if the spirits even know the answer . . . if, if, if. Many
opportunities for a wrong step."
"It was."
She shook her head slowly. "I think you are the Seeker, and you will have to decide."
She hooked some hair behind her ear. "I don't know what advice to give, Richard, and my life, too,
depends upon you making the right choice. But as your friend, I have faith that you will decide
wisely."
She looked into his gray eyes, eyes that could see into her, eyes that made her weak with longing.
"Even if you choose wrong, and it costs me my life," she whispered, swallowing back the lump in
her throat, "I could never hate you."
The Bird Man raised an eyebrow. "Would you like it if water dripped on your face when you were
asleep?"
The Bird Man shrugged. "Because it cannot be done. We have no materials at hand to use. Clay
bricks are too heavy and would fall down. Wood is too scarce; it must be carried long distances.
Grass is all we have, and it leaks. "
"Our ovens are small, we could not make a pot that big, and besides, it would crack, then it too
would leak. It cannot be done. "
The Bird Man considered this without showing any emotion.
Richard shrugged. "None asked for."
"I will do my best for your people, and hope only that they judge me fairly."
"I will make you a roof for your spirit house that will have a thousand cracks, but will not leak.
Then I will teach you to make more for yourselves."
"I've thought it over plenty," Carl snapped. "We've talked about it a long time. I know now how
they've twisted me around, deceived me. How selfish they are." He squinted his eyes. "How they
are enemies of the people."
For most of long days and nights he had kept the boy awake with the special gruel, allowing him to
sleep for only brief spells, kept him awake to hammer away at him until his mind was empty, and
could be molded. He had talked to the boy endlessly, convincing him how others had used him,
abused him, and lied to him. Sometimes he had left the boy to think over what he had been told,
and used the excuse to visit his father's tomb and read the sacred inscriptions again, or to snatch
some rest.
But what did she do? She laughed. When she saw the scars, she laughed.
"What's the big grin for?" Carl asked.
"Me?" Carl asked, smiling shyly.
"I have not wanted to burden you with worry for me, but right now, as I speak with you, there are
evil people who plot to conquer us, to crush us. They have brought down the boundary that
protected D'Hara, and now the second boundary too. I fear they plot an invasion. I have tried to
warn the people of the danger from Westland, to get them to do something to protect themselves,
but they are poor and simple people, they look to me for protection." Carl's eyes widened. "Father
Rahl, are you in danger?"
"Die?" Carl's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Father Rahl! We need you! Please don't let them get you!
Please let me fight at your side. I want to help protect you. I couldn't stand the thought of you
getting hurt."
Tears in his eyes, Carl looked up at the Master. "Father Rahl," he whispered, "I'd do anything for
you. Please let me stay? After the ceremony, let me stay and be with you? I'll do anything you need,
I promise, if I could just stay with you."
Carl slowly shook his head while his eyes stayed on Rahl. "No I won't. I only want to be with you.
Father Rahl, I love you. I'd do anything for you."
"I don't care. I want to serve you, I don't care if I might get killed. I only want to help you. I don't
want to do anything else but help you in your fight with those enemies. Father Rahl, if I got killed
helping you, it would be worth it. Please, let me stay, I'll do whatever you ask. Forever."
Rahl leaned back a little, put his hands on his knees, and nodded slowly, his blue eyes riveted on
the boy.
Carl didn't smile, but shook slightly with the excitement of acceptance, his face set in
determination. "When can we do the ceremony? I want to help you and the people."
"Yes."
Inside the dark room, his guards waited, their massive arms folded across their chests. Sweat rolling
from their skin left little trails in the light covering of soot. A crucible sat in the fire of the forge, an
acrid smell rising from the dross.
"For several days, Master."
They bowed and left through the back door. Rahl swept his hand over the crucible, and the smell
changed to an appetizing aroma. His eyes closed as he offered silent prayers to the spirit of his
father. His breathing was a shallow pant. In the fervor of his emotions he was unable to control it.
He licked his shaking fingertips and rubbed them on his lips.
Rahl's blue eyes took it all in as he approached the boy. He stopped in front of him, by the mouth of
the feeding horn. There was a glaze in his eyes as he looked down to Carl's upturned face.
"I swear my loyalty to you, Father Rahl. Forever."
Softly, he began chanting the sacred incantations in the ancient language. Charms and spells
whispered their haunting sounds in the air. Rahl's back arched as he felt power surging through his
body, taking him with hot promise. He shook as he chanted, offering up his words to the spirit of
the boy.
"Carl," he said in a husky whisper, "I love you."
Rahl's eyes slid closed. "Put your mouth over the horn, my boy, and hold tight."
And then he poured the contents of the crucible into the horn.
Darken Rahl shuddered with excitement. He let the empty crucible slip from his hands to the
ground.
As his hands extended upward, dark forms swirled around him. Howls filled the night air with the
terror of their calls. Darken Rahl went to the cold stone altar, knelt in front of it, stretched his arm
across it, put his face to it. He spoke the words in the ancient language that would link the boy's
spirit to him. For a short while he cast the needed spells. When finished, he stood, fists at his side,
his face flushed. Demmin Nass stepped forward, out of the shadows.
"Master Rahl," he answered in greeting, bowing his head.
He passed his hands over Demmin's head; the air about shuddered. "This spell will protect you.
Wait for me then, until I return, just before dawn. I will need you." He looked away lost in his
thoughts.
Demmin wiped his sword clean on his muscular forearm and returned it to its scabbard. He took
one last look at Rahl, who was still lost in the trance. "I hate this part," he muttered to himself. He
turned and went back into the shadows of the trees, leaving the Master to his work.
His skin was smooth and taut over his well-proportioned muscles, except on his upper left thigh,
across part of his hip and abdomen, and the left side of his erect sex. That was where the scar was;
where the flames sent by the old wizard had tasted him: the flames of the wizard's fire that had
consumed his father as he stood at his right hand; flames that had licked him also, giving him the
pain of the wizard's fire.
Darken Rahl licked his fingers, and reaching down ran them wetly over the bumpy scars. How he
had so badly wanted to do that when he had been burned, how he had so badly wanted to do it to
stop the terror of the unrelenting pain and burning.
How he hated the wizard, how he wanted to kill him. How he wanted to push his hand into the
wizard's living body while he looked into his eyes-and pull his heart out.
With care, he removed the heart and put it into the iron bowl of boiling water. Next he removed the
brain and added it to the bowl. Last, he took the testicles and added them, too; then, finally, he put
the knife down. Blood mixed with the sweat that covered him. It dripped from his elbows.
When he had finished with the runes from his father's tomb, he went to the sorcerer's sand where
the boy had been buried for the time of his testing. With his arms he smoothed the sand; it stuck to
the blood in a white crust. Squatting, he carefully began drawing the symbols, radiating from the
center axis, branching in intricate patterns learned in years of study. He concentrated as he worked
into the night, his straight blond hair hanging down, his brow wrinkled with intensity as he added
each element, leaving out no line or stroke or curve, for that would be fatal.
Standing in front of the altar, he held up the bowl with the mixture while he cast the calling spells.
He lowered the bowl when finished, and looked around at the Garden of Life. He always like to
look upon beautiful things before he went to the underworld.
Licking his fingers clean, he set the bowl down and went to sit cross-legged on the grass in front of
the white sand. His blond hair was matted in places with dried blood. He placed his hands palm up
on his knees, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths, preparing himself for meeting the spirit of the
boy.
"Come to me, Carl," he whispered in the secret ancient language.
From the center of the sand, the center of the enchantment, the boy's spirit rose, in the form of the
Shinga, the underworld beast.
"Thank you for coming, Carl."
With a flash of light, the Shinga, Darken Rahl astride its back, dissolved back into the black void,
corkscrewing itself down as it went. The ground shuddered and the hole closed with a grating
sound. The Garden of Life was left in the sudden silence of the night.
Savidlin kept jabbering questions Richard didn't understand. Richard just smiled and explained
things in words the others couldn't understand, using his hands in a sign language he invented as
needed. Sometimes the others thought it hilarious, and all would end up laughing. They had
accomplished a lot for men who didn't understand each other.
Next, he attached two uniform strips of wood to a flat board, one to each side, and put a lump of
soft clay into the center. Using a rolling pin, he flattened the clay, the two strips of wood acting as a
thickness gauge. Slicing off the excess at the top and bottom of the board, he ended up with slabs of
clay of a uniform thickness and size, which he draped and smoothed over the forms the women had
fired for him. He used a stick to poke a hole in the two upper corners.
Richard left them to their new work and went to the spirit house and began making a fireplace out
of the mud bricks that were used for the buildings. Savidlin followed him around, trying to learn
everything.
"Yes," he had said with a smile.
"So have L"
"Do you know how to thatch roofs?"
"Neither do 1. But I know how to make tile roofs, so that's what I have to do."
The tiles spanned from one row of poles to the next, the bottom edge laid on the first pole, the top
edge laid on the second, with the holes in the tiles used to lash them tight to the poles. The second
course of tiles was laid so its bottom edge overlapped the top of the first, covering the holes that
tied the tiles down, and owing to their wavelike form, each interlocked with the one before.
Because the clay tiles were heavier than the grass, Richard had first reinforced the poles from
underneath with supports running up the pitch of the roof, with cross members bracing them.
Most of the time while Richard was working, Kahlan was alone. The women weren't interested in
her offers of help; the men kept their distance, watching her out of the corners of their eyes; and the
young girls were too shy to actually bring themselves to talk to her. Sometimes she found them
standing, staring at her. When she would ask their names, they would only give their shy smiles,
and run away. The little children wanted to approach, but their mothers kept them well clear. She
wasn't allowed to help with the cooking, or the making of the tiles. Her approaches were politely
turned down with the excuse that she was an honored guest.
Kahlan was used to the attitude, the looks, the whispers. It no longer bothered her, as it had when
she was younger. She remembered her mother smiling at her, telling her it was just the way people
were, and it could not be changed, that she must not let it bring her to bitterness; and that she would
come to be above it someday. She had thought she was beyond caring, that it didn't matter to her,
that she had accepted who she was, the way life was, that she could have none of what other people
had, and that it was all right. That was before she met Richard: before he became her friend,
accepted her, talked to her, treated her like a normal person. Cared about her.
Savidlin, at least, had been friendly to her. He had taken her and Richard into his small home with
him, his wife, Weselan, and their young boy, Siddin, and had given them a place to sleep on the
floor. Even if it was because Savidlin had insisted, Weselan had accepted Kahlan into her home
with gracious hospitality, and did not show coldness when she had the chance, unseen by her
husband, to do so. At night, after it was too dark to work, Siddin would sit wide-eyed on the floor
with Kahlan as she told him stories of kings and castles, of far-off lands, and of fierce beasts. He
would crawl into her lap and beg for more stories, and give her hugs. It brought tears to her eyes
now to think of how Weselan let him do that, without pulling him away, how she had the kindness
not to show her fear. When Siddin went to sleep, she and Richard would tell Savidlin and Weselan
some of the stories of their journey from Westland. Savidlin was one who respected success in
struggle, and listened with eyes almost as wide as his son's had been.
Kahlan worried about what would happen when the roof was finished, about what would happen if
the elders refused to ask to have Richard named one of the Mud People. Richard had not given her
his promise that he wouldn't hurt them. Even though he was not the kind of person to do something
like that, he was the Seeker. More was at stake than the lives of a few of these people. Much more.
The Seeker had to take that into account. She had to take that into account
Kahlan wished so much he had not come to her aid when he had; wished he had not killed that
man. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was unnecessary. She could have handled it herself.
After all, one man alone was hardly a mortal danger to her. That was why Rahl always sent four
men after Confessors: one to be touched by her power, the other three to kill him and the
Confessor. Sometimes only one was left, but that was enough after a Confessor had spent her
power. But one alone? He had almost no chance. Even if he was big, she was faster. When he
swung his sword, she would have simply jumped out of the way. Before he could have brought it
up again, she would have touched him, and he would have been hers. That would have been the end
of him.
Kahlan knew another quad was probably already on its way. They were relentless. The man
Richard had killed knew he was going to die, knew he didn't stand a chance, alone, against a
Confessor, but he came anyway. They would not stop, did not know the meaning of it, never
thought of anything but their objective.
Even though she tried not to, she couldn't help remembering Dennee. Whenever she thought of the
quads, she couldn't help remembering what they had done to Dennee.
Dennee was a frail girl, as frail as her mother. She did not have the strength of power that Kahlan
did, and over time, Kahlan became her protector, guardian, shielding her from situations that
required more force than she could bring from within. After its use, Kahlan could recover the
strength of her power in an hour or two, but for Dennee, it sometimes took several days.
On the trail home, Kahlan heard soft whimpers from the brush at the side of the road, moans of
mortal pain. To her horror, she discovered Dennee, thrown there, discarded.
In shock, Kahlan held Dennee's head, comforted her, telling her it would be all right.
Past panic, Kahlan saw why. Dennee's arms had been brutally broken. They lay useless at her sides,
bent in places where they shouldn't be bent. Blood trickled from one ear. Kahlan pulled what was
left of the blood-soaked dress over her sister, covering her as best she could. Her head spun with
the horror of what the men had done. The choking feeling in her throat wouldn't let words come
out. She strained to hold back her screams, fearful of frightening her sister any more. She knew she
had to be strong for her this one last time.
"I know," Kahlan said with all the tenderness she could gather. "Lie still, it will be all right. I will
take you home." She knew it was a lie, knew Dennee would not be all right.
Anger boiled up in her. It was the first time Kahlan had ever wanted to use her. power to hurt
someone, to kill someone. She had gone to the brink of feeling something she had never felt before
or since. A terrible wrath, a force from deep within; a frightening birthright. With shaking fingers,
she stroked Dennee's bloody hair.
Dennee relaxed back in her arms. Kahlan took off the bone necklace and placed it around her
sister's neck.
"Thank you, Kahlan." She smiled, tears rolling from her wide eyes, down the pale skin of her
cheeks. "But nothing can protect me now. Save yourself. Don't let them get you. They enjoy it.
They hurt me so much . . . and they enjoyed it. They laughed at me."
"Remember me, Kahlan. Remember the fun we had."
Kahlan's head snapped up, jolted out of her thoughts. The Bird Man stood beside her, having come
up silently, unnoticed. She nodded, looking away from his gaze.
He regarded her with soft brown eyes and sat lightly beside her on the short bench.
She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and swallowed back the wail that was trying to fight its
way out of her throat
"I was thinking of my sister, Dennee. She was murdered by order of Darken Rahl. I found her. . . .
She died in my arms .... They hurt her so bad. Rahl is not content to kill. He must see to it that
people suffer before they die. "
She did as he asked, and he poured some small seeds in it. Surveying the sky, he blew the whistle
that made no sound, the one that hung from his neck, and shortly a small, bright yellow bird lit with
a flutter upon his finger. He placed his hand next to hers so it could climb over and eat the seeds.
Kahlan could feel its tiny little feet gripping her finger while it pecked away at the seeds. The bird
was so bright and pretty it made her smile. The Bird Man's leathery face smiled with her. When it
finished eating, the bird fluffed itself up and sat contentedly, without fear.
"Thank you, " she smiled.
Kahlan watched the bird a moment longer, its bright yellow feathers, the way it cocked its head,
and then cast it into the air.
A small smile brightened the Bird Man's face as he gave a single nod. Leaning forward and resting
his forearms on his knees, he looked over at the spirit house. The work was almost done, maybe
one more day. Long, silver-gray hair slipped off his shoulders and down around his face, hiding his
expression from her. Kahlan sat awhile and watched Richard working on the roof. She ached to
have him hold her right now, and hurt all the more because she knew she couldn't allow it.
"Very much. "
"And does the Seeker's blade have enough power to kill him?"
The clouds were getting darker as the day was drawing to an end. Light rain was beginning to fall
once more, and the gloom among the buildings was deepening.
She paused a moment, then spoke softly. "I do not wish to put words to what Darken Rahl did with
his own hands to Richard's father; it would make you fear the Seeker all the more. But know that
Richard would also have let the bird fly free. "
"Richard has given you his word that he will not harm your people. "
Kahlan leaned back against the wall, pulling her cloak around her, shutting out the wet breeze. "I
am a Confessor because I was born so. I did not seek the power. I would have chosen otherwise,
would have chosen to be like other people. But I must live with what J was given, and make the
best of it. Despite what you may think of the Confessors, despite what most people think, we are
here to serve the people, to serve the truth. 1 love all the people of the Midlands, and would give
my life to protect them, to keep them free. That is all I wish to do. And vet I am alone. "
She looked over out of the corner of her eye. "Richard is from Westland. He does not know what I
am. If he, knew . . . " The Bird Man lifted his eyebrow at hearing this. "For one who serves the
truth . . . "
The Bird Man listened carefully, respectfully. Kahlan turned to him.
Tenderly he drew her to him and let her sob against his shoulder. "The people of the Midlands are
fortunate to have you as their warrior. "
"The first day of winter. Child, that is not much time. This season withers away, the next will be
here soon. "
He sat quietly, without an answer. "I have watched you among our people before. You have always
respected our wishes, never acted to bring us harm. It is the same with the Seeker. I am on your
side, child I will do my best to win over the others. I only hope my words to them will be enough. I
wish my people to come to no harm. "
That night in the warmth of Savidlin's home, sitting on the floor, Kahlan told Siddin the story of the
fisherman who turned into a fish and lived in the lake, cleverly stealing bait from hooks without
ever being caught. It was an old story her mother had told her when she was as little as he. The
wonder in his face made her remember her own excitement when she had first heard it.
She wished she could take back those words. She hated that it was true, but wished she had not put
words to it. Richard hadn't seen her talking to the Bird Man, and she did not tell him of their
conversation. She saw no point in worrying him; what would happen would happen. She only
hoped the elders would listen to reason.
Everyone watched with glee as water ran off the tiles of the roof and none went inside. Richard was
in a good mood as he climbed down. The roof was finished, it didn't leak, the fireplace drew well,
and everyone was joyous because of what he had done for them. The men who had helped were
proud of what they had accomplished, what they had learned. They acted as guides, excitedly
showing off the finer points of the construction.
"Do you think you need to take the sword?" she asked.
She gave him a disapproving look. "Richard, don't play games with me. You know what I mean."
Kahlan had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, that things were spinning beyond her control,
that Richard was going to do something terrible if the elders turned him down. He had been
working hard, from when he woke until he fell into bed, the whole time with the single thought that
he would win them over. He had won over most people, but they were not the people who counted.
She was afraid he hadn't given rational thought to what he would do if the word was no.
Kahlan caught sight of the Bird Man standing among some armed men to the side of a pole that
held up the roof over the elders' heads. When their eyes met, her heart sank. She grabbed the sleeve
of Richard's shirt, leaning toward him.
He ignored her. "Honored elders," he started in a loud, clear voice. She translated as he spoke. "It is
my privilege to report to you that the spirit house has a new roof that does not leak. It has also been
my privilege to teach your people how to build these roofs so they may improve the other buildings
of your village. I did this out of respect for your people, and I expect nothing in return. I only hope
you are pleased."
At last Toffalar spoke in a determined voice. "We are not pleased. "
"A little rain does not melt the strength of the Mud People. Your roof may not leak, but only
because it is clever. Clever as the ways of outsiders. They are not our ways. It would only be the
beginning of outsiders telling us what to do. We know what you want. You want to be named one
of us so we will call a gathering for you. Just another clever trick of an outsider to get from us what
will serve you. You wish to draw us into your fight. We say no!" He turned to Savidlin. "The roof
of the spirit house will be put back to the way it was. The way our honored ancestors wanted it."
"Now that your tricks have failed, " he said with disdain
Richard looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him. His glare turned briefly to the Bird Man,
then back to the six under the shelter. She held her breath. The crowd was dead quiet. He turned