to Adie's tale, wincing at hearing that he had been sustained on gruel.

"He told me to tell you he could not wait for you," she said, "but that he knew you would
understand. The Seeker gave me instructions to pass on to Chase, for him to return and make
preparations for when the boundary fails, for the coming of Rahl's forces. He was sorry he did not
know what your plan be, but feared he could not wait."

"Just as well," the wizard said under his breath. "My plan does not include him."

Zedd went back to eating in earnest. When he had finished the soup, he went to the kettle and
helped himself to another bowlful. He offered to get Adie more, but she was not yet finished with
her first, since she had spent most of the time with her eyes on the wizard. As he sat back down, she
pushed more bread and cheese at 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."

The light from the lamp lit his thin face and white hair, making him look stark and all the more thin
in the sharp shadows. He picked up his spoon, looked down at the soup a moment, then back up at
her face.

"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."

Adie leaned back in her chair, her blank white eyes stared at him, her small smile came back. "For
his sake, I hope you be right in your trust. I would not want to give a wizard cause to be angry."

Zedd shrugged. "As wizards go, I'm pretty harmless."

She studied his eyes in the lamplight

"That be a lie," the sorceress whispered in a low rasp.

Zedd cleared his throat, and thought to change the subject. "It would seem I owe you thanks for
tending to me, dear lady."

"That be true."

"And for helping Richard and Kahlan"-he looked over to Chase, pointing with his spoon-"and the
boundary warden too. I am in your debt."

Adie's smile widened. "Perhaps, someday you can return the favor."

Zedd pushed up the sleeves of his robes and went back to eating the soup, but not quite as
voraciously as before. He and the sorceress watched each other. The fire in the hearth crackled, and
outside night bugs chirped. Chase slept on.

"How long have they been gone?" Zedd asked at last.

"This be the seventh day he has left you and the boundary warden to my care."

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.

"Did Richard say how I was to find him?"

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."

Zedd jumped to his feet. "You did what!"

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."

The wizard put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward, his wavy white hair falling around his
face. "And did you warn him?"

"Of course I did."

His eyes narrowed. "How? With a sorceress's riddle?"

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.

"Sit down, wizard, and stop showing off." She took a bite of her apple, chewing slowly. Zedd sat
down in a huff. "I did not want to frighten him. He already be fearful enough. Had I told him what a
night stone could do, he might have been afraid to use it, and the result would have been that the
underworld would have had him sure. Yes, I warned him, but with a riddle, so he would figure it
out later, after he be through the pass."

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.

"He be Seeker; that be what Seekers do: they solve riddles."

Zedd held up a bony finger. "Riddles of life, not words. There is a difference."

Adie set her apple down and leaned forward, putting her hands on the table. A look of concern
softened her face. "Zedd, I was trying to help the boy. I want him to succeed. I lost my foot in the
pass; he would have lost his life. If the Seeker loses his life, we all lose ours too. I did not mean
him harm."

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."

"I be a fool," she said bitterly. "He told me he disliked riddles, but I never thought more of it. Zedd,
seek him through the night stone? See if he has made it through?"

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.

"He is in the Midlands. He has made it through the pass."

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?"

The wizard looked down at the table, away from her white eyes. "No," he said in a quiet voice. "He
will have to handle this, among other things, on his own. As you said, he is the Seeker. I have an
important task to attend to, if we are to stop Darken Rahl. I hope he can stay out of trouble in the
meantime."

"Secrets?" the sorceress asked, smiling her little smile.

"Secrets." The wizard nodded. "I must leave right away."

She took one hand out from under his and stroked his leathery skin.

"It be dark outside."

"Dark," he agreed.

"Why not stay the night? Leave with the light."

Zedd's eyes snapped up, looking at her from under his eyebrows. "Stay the night?"

Adie shrugged as she stroked his hands. "It be lonely here sometimes."

"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?"

She shook her head, and his grin came back.

"I have my wizard's rock along. Could I interest you?"

Adie's face softened in a shy smile. "I would like that very much." She watched him as she sat
back, taking a bite of her apple.

Zedd arched an eyebrow. "Naked?"

-+---
Wind and rain bowed the long grass in broad slow waves as the two of them made their way across
the open, flat plain. Trees were few and far between, mostly birch and alder in clusters along
streams. Kahlan watched the grass carefully; they were near the Mud People's territory. Richard
followed silently behind, keeping her under his watchful eye, as always.

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

Worse, although she knew they probably would not dare to kill a Confessor, even one traveling
without the protection of a wizard, she had no idea if they would dare to kill the Seeker. She had
never traveled the Midlands before without a wizard. No Confessor did; it was too dangerous.
Richard was better protection than Giller, the last wizard assigned her, but Richard was not
supposed to be her protection, she was supposed to be his. She couldn't allow him to put his life at
risk for her again. He was more important than she to stopping Rahl. That was what mattered,
above all else. She had pledged her life in defense of the Seeker ...in defense of Richard. She had
never meant anything more ardently in her life. If a time came that called for a choice, it must be
she who died.

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.

"This meant to warn us away?" he asked as he stroked one of the skins.

"No, they are the skulls of honored ancestors, meant to watch over their lands. Only the most
respected are accorded such recognition."

"That doesn't sound threatening. Maybe they won't be so unhappy to see us after all."

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."

Richard took a deep breath as he withdrew his hand from the pole. "Let's see if we can get them to
help us, so they can go on revering their ancestors, and keeping outsiders away."

"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."

"Kahlan, it's not my desire or intention to hurt them. Don't worry, they will help us. It's in their own
interest."

"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."

He pushed his hood back also, put his hands on his hips, and surprised her with a little smile out of
one side of his mouth. "Now I know how it feels."

"What?" she asked, a tone of suspicion in her voice.

As he looked down at her, his smile grew. "Remember when I had the fever from the snake vine,
and I asked you not to hurt Zedd? Now I know how you felt when you couldn't make that promise."

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.

"And now I know how you must have felt when I could not make that promise." She smiled in spite
of herself. "Did you feel this foolish for asking?"

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."

She did feel foolish for not trusting him. But she knew he trusted her too much.

"I'm sorry," she said, the smile still on her lips. "I should know you better than that."

"Do you know how we can get them to help us?"

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.

"The Mud People hold a gathering, called a council of seers. I have never been allowed to attend,
maybe because I am an outsider, maybe because I am a woman. This group divines the answers to
questions that affect the village. They will not hold a gathering at sword point; if they are to help
us, they must do so willingly. You must win them over." He gazed intently into her eyes. "With
your help, we can do it. We must."

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.

Rains had swollen the streams until the churning, muddy water pounded and frothed with a roar at
the bottoms of the crossing logs that were used as bridges. Kahlan could feel the power of the water
making the logs shudder under her boots. She stepped carefully, as the logs were slippery, and there
was no hand rope to aid her crossing. Richard offered her his hand, to steady her, and she was glad
for the excuse to take it. She found herself looking forward to the stream crossings, to being able to
take his hand. But as deeply as it hurt, she couldn't allow herself to encourage his feelings for her.
She wished so much she could just be a woman, like any other. But she wasn't. She was a
Confessor. Still, sometimes for brief moments, she could forget, and pretend.

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.

After crossing another stream and plunging back into the wet grass, eight men sprang up suddenly
in front of them. Kahlan and Richard came to an abrupt halt. The men were wearing animal skins
over most of their bodies. Sticky mud that didn't wash away in the rain was smeared over the rest of
their skin and faces, and their hair smoothed down with it. Clumps of grass were tied to their arms
and to the skins, and stuffed under headbands, making them invisible when they had been squatted
down. They stood silently in front of the two of them. All wore grim expressions. Kahlan
recognized several of the men; it was a hunting party of Mud People.

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 Confessor Kahlan," he said.

"Strength to Savidlin and the Mud People, " she answered in their language.

Savidlin slapped her across the face, hard. She slapped him back just as hard. Instantly Kahlan
heard the ringing sound of Richard's sword being pulled free. She spun on her heels.

"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."

His eyes flicked from Savidlin's to hers. They were filled with unleashed anger, the magic that was
ready to kill. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. "And if they slit your throat,
would you have me let them slit mine as well?"

"That is the way they greet people. It is meant to show respect for another's strength."

He frowned, hesitating.

"I'm sorry I did not warn you. Richard, put the sword away."

His eyes went from hers to Savidlin, and then back to hers again, before he yielded and angrily
thrust the sword back into its scabbard. Relieved, she turned back to the Mud People as Richard
stepped up protectively next to her. Savidlin and the others had been watching calmly. They didn't
understand the words, but they seemed to grasp the meaning of what had happened. Savidlin
looked away from Richard, to Kahlan. He spoke in his dialect.

"Who is this man with the temper?"

"His name is Richard. He is the Seeker of Truth. "

Whispers broke out among the other members of the hunting party. Savidlin's eyes sought
Richard's.

"Strength to Richard, the Seeker. "

Kahlan told him what Savidlin had said. There was still a hot look on his face.

Savidlin stepped up and hit Richard, not with an open hand as he had hit her, but with his fist.
Immediately Richard unleashed a powerful blow of his own that knocked Savidlin from his feet
and sent him sprawling on his back. He lay dazed on the ground with his limbs strewn awkwardly
out. Fists tightened on weapons. Richard straightened, giving the men a dangerous look that kept
them rooted firmly in place.

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."

The other men broke out in laughter. Kahlan held her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her own.
The tension evaporated.

"What did he say?" Richard demanded.

"He said you have great respect for him, that you are wise. I think you have made a friend."

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.

"I am truly glad you recognize my strength, but I hope you do not come to respect me any more. "
The men laughed. "Among the Mud People, you shall be known as `Richard With The Temper.' "

Kahlan tried to hold back her laughter while she translated. The men were still snickering. Savidlin
turned to them.

"Maybe you men would like to greet my big friend, and have him. show you his respect for your
strength. "

They all held their hands out in front of themselves and shook their heads vigorously.

"No, " one of them said between fits of laughter, "he has already shown you enough respect for all
of us."

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?"

"No! "

Savidlin tensed. "Then you have come here to choose one of our men?"

"No, " she said, her voice regaining its calmness.

Savidlin looked greatly relieved. "The Confessor chooses dangerous traveling companions. " "Not
dangerous to me, only to those who would think to harm me. "

Savidlin smiled and nodded, then looked Kahlan up and down.

"You wear odd things. Different from before."

"Underneath, I am the same as before," Kahlan said as she leaned a little closer to make her point.
"That is what you need to know."

Savidlin backed away a little from her intense expression and gave a nod. His eyes narrowed. "And
why are you here?"

"So that we might help each other. There is a man who would rule your people. The Seeker and I
would have you rule yourselves. We came seeking your people's strength and wisdom to aid us in
our fight."

"Father Rahl," Savidlin announced knowingly.

"You know of him?"

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. "

It was Kahlan's turn to stiffen, she glanced to the other men, who had started smiling at the mention
of the missionary. She looked back to the elder's mud streaked face. "And what happened to him
after the three days?"

"He was a good man. " Savidlin smiled meaningfully.

Kahlan straightened herself. Richard leaned closer to her.

"What are they saying?"

"They want to know why we are here. They said they have heard of Darken Rahl."

"Tell them I want to talk to their people, that I need them to call a gathering."

She looked up at him from under her eyebrows. "I am getting to that. Adie was right, you are not a
patient person."

Richard smiled. "No, she was wrong. I am very patient, but I am not very tolerant. There is a
difference."

Kahlan smiled at Savidlin as she spoke to Richard. "Well, please do not become intolerant just
now, or show them any more respect for the moment. I know what I am doing, and it is going well.
Let me do it my way, all right?"

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.

"Did Richard With The Temper bring us the rains?"

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. "

The elder studied her face intently and nodded. She didn't feel comfortable under his gaze, and
sought to bring the conversation back to the reason for her visit.

"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. "

Savidlin considered what she had said for a while, then at last spoke.

"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. "

The other men were pleased with the decision; they all seemed to like Richard. They gathered up
their things, including two deer and a wild boar, each tied to a carrying pole. Kahlan hadn't seen the
result of their hunt before because it had been hidden in the tall grass. As they all started off down
the path, the men gathered about Richard, touching him cautiously and jabbering questions he
couldn't understand. Savidlin clapped him on the shoulders, looking forward to showing off his big
new friend to the village. Kahlan went along beside him, for the most part ignored, and happy that
so far they liked Richard. She understood the feeling-it was hard to dislike him-but there was some
other reason for their ready acceptance of him. She worried about what that reason could be.

"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."

CHAPTER 2

3
CHICKENS SCATTERED AT THEIR feet as the hunting party surrounding Kahlan and Richard
led them into the Mud People's village. Set on a slight rise that passed for a hill in the grasslands of
the Wilds, the village was a collection of buildings constructed of a kind of mud brick, surfaced
with a tan clay plaster and topped with grass roofs that leaked as they became dry, and had to be
replaced constantly to keep the rain at bay. There were wood doors, but no glass in the windows of
the thick walls, only cloth hanging in some to keep out the weather.

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.

Women wrapped in simple dresses of brightly colored cloth sat in the work areas, grinding tava
root, from which they made the flat bread that was the staple of the Mud People. Sweet-smelling
smoke rose from the cooking fires. Adolescent girls with short cropped hair smoothed down by
sticky mud sat by the women, helping.

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.

Children ran from every corner of the village to see what manner of strangers Savidlin's hunting
party had brought back. They crowded around the hunters, squealing with excitement, stomping
their bare feet in the mud, and splashing the men. Ordinarily, they would be interested in the deer
and boar, but now those were ignored in favor of the strangers. The men tolerated them with goodnatured smiles; little children were never scolded. When they were older, they would be put into
strict training where they would be taught the disciplines of the Mud People-of hunting, food
gathering, and the ways of spirits-but for now they were allowed to be children, with almost free
rein to play.

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.

Six elders stood under the leaky protection of one of the open pole structures, waiting for Savidlin
to bring the strangers to them. They wore deerskin pants, and were bare-chested; each had a coyote
hide draped around his shoulders. Despite their grim faces, Kahlan knew them to be more friendly
than they appeared. Mud People never smiled at outsiders until greetings had been exchanged, lest
their souls be stolen.

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.

Kahlan stepped up to the six elders, Richard to her right but back a pace, Savidlin to his right. The
six surveyed the two outsiders.

"Strength to Confessor Kahlan, " said the eldest.

"Strength to Toffalar " she answered.

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.

Kahlan spoke Richard's name under her breath with a rising inflection and a cautionary tone.
"These are important men. Please do not loosen their teeth."

He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, and a mischievous smile.

"This is the Seeker, Richard With The Temper" Savidlin said, proud of his charge. He leaned closer
to the elders, his voice heavy with meaning. "Confessor Kahlan brought him to us. He is the one
you spoke of, the one who brought the rains. She told me so. "

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 Richard With The Temper, " Toffalar said. He gave Richard a gentle slap

"Strength to Toffalar," he answered in his own language, having recognized his name, and
immediately returned the slap.

Kahlan breathed out in relief that it was gentle. Savidlin beamed, showing his fat lip again. Toffalar
at last smiled. After the others had given and received a greeting, they smiled, too.

And then they did something very odd.

The six elders and Savidlin each dropped to one knee and bowed their heads to Richard. Kahlan
instantly tensed.

"What's going on?" Richard asked out of the side of his mouth, alerted by her anxiety.

"I do not know," she answered in a low voice. "Maybe it's their way of greeting the Seeker. I have
never seen them do this before."

The men rose to their feet, all smiles. Toffalar held his hand up and motioned over their heads to
the women.

"Please," Toffalar said to the two of them, "sit with us. We are honored to have you both among
us."

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.

Women in the Midlands tended not to like Confessors. They saw them as a menace who could take
their men, and a threat to their lifestyle; women were not supposed to be independent. Kahlan
disregarded their cool glances; she was more than used to them.

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

"Richard!" she warned in a harsh whisper. "Don't put food in your mouth with your left hand."

He froze. "Why?"

"Because they believe that evil spirits eat with their left hand."

"That's foolish," he said, an intolerant tone in his voice.

"Richard, please. They outnumber us. All their weapons are tipped with poison. This is a poor time
for theological arguments."

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.

"Please forgive our meager offering of food, " Toffalar said. "We will call a banquet for tonight."

"No!" Kahlan blurted out. "I mean, we do not want to impose upon your people. "

"As you wish, " Toffalar said with a shrug, a little disappointed.

"We are here because the Mud People, among others, are in great danger. "

The elders all nodded and smiled. "Yes, " Surin spoke up. "But now that you have brought Richard
With The Temper to us, all is well. We thank you, Confessor Kahlan, we will riot forget what you
have done."

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.

"What are they saying?" Richard asked before he took a bite himself.

"For some reason, they are glad I brought you here."

He looked over at her. "Ask them why."

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. "

He smiled knowingly. "I am sorry, child. I forget you were not here when we called the council of
seers. You see, it was dry, our crops were withering, and our people were in danger of starvation.
So we called a gathering, to ask the spirits for help. They told us one would come, and bring the
rain with him. The rains came, and here is Richard With The Temper, just as they promised. "

"And so you are happy that he is here, because he is an omen?"

"No, " Toffalar said, eyes wide with excitement, "we are happy that one of the spirits of our
ancestors has chosen to visit us. " He pointed at Richard. "He is a spirit man. "

Kahlan almost dropped her bread. She sat back in surprise.

"What is it?" Richard asked.

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."

He studied her face a moment. "Well, I'm not."

"They think you are. Richard, they would do anything for a spirit. They will call a council of seers
if you ask."

She didn't like asking him to do this; she didn't feel at all right about deceiving the Mud People, but
they needed to know where the box was. Richard considered her words.

"No," he said quietly while holding her gaze.

"Richard, we have an important task to attend to. If they think you are a spirit, and that will help us
get the last box, what does it matter?"

"It matters because it's a lie. I won't do it."

"Would you rather have Rahl win?" she asked quietly.

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."

"If it works to our advantage, and theirs, what harm is there?"

"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.

"Have we aroused the temper of the spirit?" Toffalar asked, a look of concern on his weathered
face.

"He wants to know why you are angry," she said. "What shall I tell him?"

Richard looked at the elders, then to her. "I will tell them. Translate my words."

Kahlan nodded her agreement.

"The Mud People are wise, and strong," he began. "That is why I have come here. Your ancestor
spirits were right that I would bring the rains." They all seemed pleased when Kahlan told them his
words. Everyone else in the village was stone silent as they listened. "But they have not told you
everything. As you know, that is the way of spirits." The elders nodded their understanding. "They
have left it to your wisdom to find the rest of the truth. In this way you remain strong, as your
children become strong because you guide them, not because you provide them their every want. It
is the hope of every parent that their children will become strong and wise, to think for
themselves."

There were nods, but not as many. "What are you saying, great spirit?" asked Arbrin, one of the
elders in the back.

Richard ran his fingers through his hair after Kahlan translated. "I am saying that, yes, I brought the
rains, but there is more. Perhaps the spirits saw a greater danger for your people, and that is the
more important reason I have come. There is a very dangerous man who would rule your people,
make you his slaves. His name is Darken Rahl."

There were snickers among the elders. "Then he sends fools to be our masters, " Toffalar said.

Richard regarded them angrily. The laughter died out. "It is his way, to lull you into
overconfidence. Do not be fooled. He has used his power and his magic to conquer peoples of
greater numbers than you. When he chooses, he will crush you. The rains came because he sends
clouds to follow me, to know where I am, that he might try to kill me at a time of his choosing. I
am not a spirit, I am the Seeker. Just a man. I want to stop Darken Rahl, so that your people, and
others, may live their own lives, as they wish." Toffalar's eyes narrowed. "If what you say is true,
then the one called Rahl sent the rains, and has saved our people. That is what his missionary tried
to teach us, that Rahl would save us. "

"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."

There was great disappointment in the expressions of the elders as Kahlan interpreted; she hoped it
wouldn't turn to anger.

"Then maybe the message of the spirits was a warning about the man that would come, " Surin
said.

"And maybe it was a warning about Rahl," Richard answered right back. "I am offering you the
truth. You must use your wisdom to see it, or your people are lost. I offer you a chance to help save
yourselves."

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?"

The elders sat quietly, the joy gone from their faces. The rest of the village waited in quiet fear.
Richard regarded the face of each elder in turn, then spoke quietly.

"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."

Toffalar's face hardened. "We do not call gatherings for outsiders. "

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.

Richard's eyes were full of fire as he looked around at the people of the village and then back to the
elders. "In return for bringing you the rain, I ask of you only that you do not decide right now.
Consider what manner of man you find me to be." He was keeping his voice calm, but there was no
mistaking the import of his words. "Think it over carefully. Many lives depend upon your decision.
Mine. Kahlan's. Yours."

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.

"Fair" Toffalar proclaimed at last. "You both are free to be among our people as honored guests
while we consider. Please enjoy all we have, share our food and our homes. "

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.

"You angry with me?" he asked.

"No," she admitted with a smile- "I am proud of you."

A little-boy grin spread on his face. He began eating, with his right hand, and made short work of
it. After he swallowed the last bite, he spoke again.

"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."

Kahlan took a bite of the bread and pepper, chewing as she glanced over his shoulder.

"He is the Bird Man. I don't know anything about him, except that he can call birds to himself."

Richard took another piece of bread, rolled it up, and took a bite. "I think it's time we went and had
a talk with him."

"Why?"

Richard looked up at her from under his eyebrows. "Because he's the one who is in charge around
here."

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."

"Then why has he not made himself known?"

"Because," he said, grinning, "he wants to know how smart we are."

Richard stood and held his hand out to her. She stuffed the rest of the bread in her mouth, brushed
her hands on her pants, and took his hand. As he hoisted her up, she thought about how much she
liked the way he always offered her his hand. He was the first person who had ever done that. It
was just one part of why it felt so easy being with him.

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.

They stopped in front of him. He continued to lean his shoulders against the wall, and his right knee
stuck out as his foot propped against the plastered brick. His arms lay folded across his chest as he
studied their faces.

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."

The Bird Man's eyes went to hers as she translated, then back to Richard's.

"I have seen spirits before, " he said in a quiet voice. "They do not carry swords. "

Kahlan translated. Richard laughed. She liked his easy laugh.

"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.

"Strength to the Bird Man," he said, returning the easy 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.

"Come, " the Bird Man said, "we will talk. "

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 hawk stayed on his arm as the Bird Man pulled the door open and motioned them inside. A
small fire was burning in a pit at the back end, offering a little light to the otherwise dark room. A
hole in the roof above the fire let the smoke out, although it did a poor job of it, and left the place
with a sharp smoky smell. Pottery bowls left from past meals lay about the floor, and a plank shelf
along one wall held a good two dozen ancestral skulls. Otherwise, the room was empty. The Bird
Man found a place near the center of the room where the rain wasn't dripping, and sat down on the
dirt floor. Kahlan and Richard sat side by side, facing him, as the hawk watched their movements.

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.

"Mother Confessor, you have not yet chosen a mate. " He gently stroked the hawk's head while he
watched her.

Kahlan decided she didn't like his tone. He was testing. "No.

Are you offering yourself?"

He smiled slightly. "No. I apologize. I did not mean to offend you. Why are you not with a
wizard?"

"All the wizards, save two, are dead. Of those two, one sold his .services to a queen. The other was
struck down by an underworld beast, and lies in a sleep. There are none left to protect me. All the
other Confessors have been killed. We are in dark times. "

His eyes looked genuinely sympathetic, but his tone still was not. "It is dangerous for a Confessor
to be alone. "

"Yes, and it is also dangerous for a man to be alone with a Confessor who is in great want of
something. From where I sit, it would seem that you are in greater danger than 1. "

"Perhaps, " he said, stroking the hawk, his slight smile returning. "Perhaps. This one is a true
Seeker? One named by a wizard?"

"Yes."

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."

"I am sorry for them, " she said.

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.

"l have never seen a pretend Seeker, but 1 have seen this one in the rage. Believe me, you and your
people do not want to ever give this one cause to draw his sword in anger. He knows how to use the
magic. 1 have even seen him strike down evil spirits. "

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. "

Richard spoke up at last. "Are you two about done threatening each other?"

Kahlan looked at him in surprise. "I thought you couldn't understand their language."

"Can't. But I can understand eyes. If looks caused sparks, this place would be ablaze."

Kahlan turned back to the Bird Man. "The Seeker wishes to know if we are finished threatening
each other. "

He glanced at Richard and then back to her. "He is an impatient man, is he not?"

She nodded. "l have told him so myself. He denies it. " "It must be a burden traveling with him. "

Kahlan broke into a smile. "Not at all. "

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?"

Kahlan interpreted the words as they spoke.

"None."

The Bird Man studied the hawk as he asked, "And if we choose not to help Darken Rahl, how many
of us will he kill?"

"Sooner or later, a great many."

He took his hand away from the hawk, and looked at Richard with his sharp eyes. "It .would seem
you argue for us to help Darken Rahl. "

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."

His face took on a dangerous expression. He leaned forward. "If, on the other hand, you choose to
help Darken Rahl, and I defeat him, I will come back, and . . ." He pulled his finger across his
throat in a quick gesture that needed no translation.

The Bird Man sat stone-faced, no quick retort at hand. "We wish only to be left alone, " he said at
last.

Richard shrugged, looking down at the ground. "I can understand that. I too wished only to be left
alone." His eyes came up. "Darken Rahl killed my father, and sends evil spirits that haunt me in my
father's guise. He sends men to try to kill Kahlan. He brings down the boundary, to invade my
homeland. His minions have struck down my two oldest friends. They lie in a deep sleep, near
death, but at least they will live . . . unless he is successful the next time. Kahlan has told me of
many he has killed. Children; stories that would make your heart sick." He nodded, his voice soft,
hardly more than a whisper. "Yes, my friend, I too wished only to be left alone. On the first day of
winter, if Darken Rahl gains the magic he seeks, he will have a power no one can stand against.
Then it will be too late." His hand went to his sword. Kahlan's eyes widened. "If he were here, in
my place, he would pull this sword and have your help or have your head." He took his hand away.
"That, my friend, is why I cannot harm you if you choose not to help me."

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. "

"If I wanted to get your help by tricks, I would have. let you believe me to be a spirit."

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?"

Richard smiled back. "In truth? Both."

The Bird Man nodded. "Thank you for the truth. "

Richard sat quietly, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "So, Bird Man, I have told you my
tale. You must judge it true or not. Time works against me. Will you help?"

"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. "

"It is not only an outsider's needs," Kahlan said, telling them both her words. "Helping us also helps
the Mud People."

"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.

"Then they would call the gathering for you, and not violate the tradition. "

"Could you make me one of the Mud People?"

The Bird Man's silver-gray hair glistened in the firelight as he considered. "If you were to first do
something that helped our people, something that benefited them, with no advantage to you, proved
you were a man of good intentions toward us, doing so without promise of aid for your help, and
the elders wished it, 1 could. "

"And once you named me as one of the Mud People, I could ask for a gathering. and they would
call it?"

"If you were one of' us, they would know you had our interests in your heart. They would call a
council of seers to help you. "

"And if they called the council, would they be able to tell me where the object I seek is located?"

"1 cannot answer that. Sometimes the spirits will not answer our questions, sometimes they do not
know the answers to our questions. There is no guarantee that we could help you, even if we held a
gathering. All I could promise is that we would try our best. "

Richard looked down at the ground, thinking. With his finger, he pushed some dirt into one of the
puddles where the rain dripped.

"Kahlan," he asked quietly, "do you know of anyone else who would have the power to tell us
where to look for the box?"

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."

"Well, of the ones who wouldn't kill us just for asking, how far away are they?"

"Three weeks, at least, north, through very dangerous country controlled by Rahl."

"Three weeks," Richard said out loud with a heavy tone of disappointment.

"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."

"Was it not you who told me I would have to win them over?" he asked with a smile.

"It was."

"So, what do you think? Do you think we should stay and try to convince them to help, or we
should go to find the answers elsewhere'?"

She shook her head slowly. "I think you are the Seeker, and you will have to decide."

He smiled again. "You are my friend. I could use your advice."

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."

"Will you hate me," he grinned, "if I make the wrong choice'?"

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."

He looked away from her, back down at the dirt awhile, then once again up to the Bird Man. "Do
your people like having roofs that leak?"

The Bird Man raised an eyebrow. "Would you like it if water dripped on your face when you were
asleep?"

Smiling, Richard shook his head. "Then why don't you make roofs that don't leak?"

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. "

Richard took one of the pottery bowls and turned it upside down under one of the drips. "You have
clay from which you make pottery."

"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. "

"It is a mistake to say something cannot be done simply because you don't know how to do it. I
would not be here otherwise." He said this gently, without malice. "Your people are strong, and
wise. I would be honored if the Bird Man would allow me to teach his people how to make roofs
that do not leak, and also let the smoke out at the same time."

The Bird Man considered this without showing any emotion.

"If you could do this, it would be a great benefit to my people, and they would give you many
thanks. But I can make no promises beyond that. "

Richard shrugged. "None asked for."

"The answer may still be no. You must accept that, if that is the answer, and bring no harm to my
people. "

"I will do my best for your people, and hope only that they judge me fairly."

"Then you are free to try, but I cannot see how you will make a roof of clay that will not crack and
leak. "

"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."

The Bird Man smiled and gave a nod

CHAPTER 2

4
"I HATE MY MOTHER."

The Master, sitting cross-legged on the grass, looked down at the bitter expression on the boy's face
and waited a moment before he answered in a quiet voice. "That is a very strong thing to say, Carl.
I would not want you to say something you would come to regret when you had thought it over."

"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."

Rahl glanced up at the windows, at the last tinge of fading sunlight turning the wisps of clouds a
beautiful deep reddish purple, frosted with tips of gold. Tonight. Tonight, at long last, would be the
night he returned to the underworld.

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.

And then, last night, he had taken that girl to his bed, to get some relaxation; a small, momentary
diversion. An interlude of gentleness to feel another's soft flesh against his, to relieve his pent-up
excitement. She should have been honored, especially after he had been so tender with her, so
charming. She had been anxious enough to be with him.

But what did she do? She laughed. When she saw the scars, she laughed.

As he thought of it now Rahl had to strain to control his rage, strain to show the boy a smile, strain
to hide his impatience to get on with it. He thought of what he had done to the girl, the exhilaration
of his violence unleashed, her ripping screams. The smile came more easily to his lips. She would
laugh at him no more.

"What's the big grin for?" Carl asked.

Rahl looked down at the boy's big brown eyes. "I was just thinking about how proud 1 am of you."
His smile widened as he remembered the way her hot sticky blood pumped and spurted as she
screamed. Where was her haughty laughter then?

"Me?" Carl asked, smiling shyly.

Rahl's blond head nodded. "Yes, Carl, you. Not many young men of your age would be intelligent
enough to see the world as it really is. To see beyond their own lives to the wider dangers and
wonders all about. To see how hard I work to bring safety and peace to the people." He shook his
head sadly. "Sometimes it hurts my heart to see the very ones for whom I struggle so hard turn their
backs to me, reject my tireless efforts, or worse yet, join with the enemies of the people.

"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?"

Rahl brushed the matter away with a wave of his hand. "It's not me I fear for, it's the people. If I
were to die, who would protect them?"

"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."

Rahl's breathing quickened, his heart raced. The time was near. It would not be long now. He
smiled warmly at Carl as he remembered the girl's hoarse screams. "I could not stand the thought of
you being in danger for me. Carl, I have come to know you these last days; you are more to me
than simply a young man who was chosen to help me with the ceremony, you have become my
friend. I have shared my deepest concerns with you, my hopes, my dreams. I don't do that with
many. It's enough to know you care."

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, that's so like you, so kind. But you have a life, parents, friends. And Tinker, don't forget your
dog. Soon you will be wanting to go back to all that."

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."

Rahl considered the boy's words, a serious look on his face. "It would be dangerous for you to stay
with me." Rahl could feel his heart pounding.

"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."

To help control his rapid breathing, Rahl took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His face was
grave. "Are you sure of what you are saying, Carl? Are you sure you really mean it? I mean, are
you really sure you would give your life for me?" "I swear. I'd die to help you. My life is yours, if
you'll have it."

Rahl leaned back a little, put his hands on his knees, and nodded slowly, his blue eyes riveted on
the boy.

"Yes, Carl. I will have it."

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."

"Soon," Rahl said, his eyes getting wide and his speech slow. "Tonight, after I have fed you. Are
you ready to begin?"

"Yes."

Rahl rose, feeling the surge of blood through his veins; he strained to control the flush of arousal. It
was dark outside. The torches gave off a flickering light that danced in his blue eyes, gleamed on
his long blond hair, and made his white robes seem to glow. Before going to the forge room, he
placed the feeding horn near Carl's mouth.

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.

Eyes wide, Rahl addressed his guards. "Is Demmin back?"

"For several days, Master."

"Tell him to come and wait," Rahl said, unable to manage more than a whisper. "And then I would
like you two to leave me alone for now."

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.

Affixing wooden handles to the crucible so as to lift it without burning himself, he used the magic
to make its weight easy to maneuver, and went back through the door with it. The torches lit the
area around the boy, the white sand with the symbols traced in it, the ring of grass, the altar set on
the wedge of white stone. Torchlight reflected off the polished stone block that held the iron bowl
with the Shinga on its lid

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.

"Are you sure about this, Carl?" he asked hoarsely. "Can I trust you with my life?"

"I swear my loyalty to you, Father Rahl. Forever."

Rahl's eyes closed as he drew a sharp breath. Sweat beaded on his face, stuck his robes to his skin.
He could feel waves of heat rolling off the crucible. He added the heat of his magic to the vessel, to
keep its contents boiling.

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.

His eyes opened partway, the visage of wanton passion burning in them. His breathing was ragged;
his hands trembled slightly. He gazed down at the boy.

"Carl," he said in a husky whisper, "I love you."

"I love you, Father Rahl."

Rahl's eyes slid closed. "Put your mouth over the horn, my boy, and hold tight."

While Carl did as he was told, Rahl chanted the last charm, his heart pounding. The torches hissed
and spit while they burned, the sound intertwining with that of the spell.

And then he poured the contents of the crucible into the horn.

Carl's eyes snapped wide, and he both inhaled and swallowed involuntarily when the molten lead
hit him, searing into his body.

Darken Rahl shuddered with excitement. He let the empty crucible slip from his hands to the
ground.

The Master went on to the next set of incantations, the sending of the boy's spirit to the underworld.
He said the words, every word in the proper order, opening the way to the underworld, opening the
void, opening the dark emptiness.

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.

Rahl's vision focused on his friend. "Demmin," he whispered, his voice coarse.

"Master Rahl," he answered in greeting, bowing his head.

Rahl stepped to Demmin, his face drawn and sweat-streaked. "Take his body from the ground, and
put it on the altar. Use the bucket of water to wash him clean." He glanced down at the short sword
Demmin wore. "Crack his skull for me, no more, and then you may stand back, and wait."

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 did as asked, going about the grim task while Rahl continued to chant the strange words,
rocking back and forth, his eyes closed, as if in a trance.

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.

Darken Rahl went to stand behind the altar, breathing in deeply. Suddenly, he cast his hand down at
the fire pit, and flames leapt up with a roar. He held out both hands, fingers contorted, and the iron
bowl lifted and floated over, setting itself down on the fire. Rahl pulled his curved knife from its
sheath and laid it on the boy's wet belly. He slipped his robes from his shoulders and let them drop
to the ground, kicking them back out of the way. Sweat covered his lean form, ran down his neck in
rivulets.

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.

It had been a fire unlike any other, burning, sticking, searing, alive with purpose, as he had
screamed until he had lost his voice.

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.

But the healers wouldn't let him. They said he mustn't touch the burn, and so they bound him by his
wrists, to keep him from reaching down. He had licked his fingers and instead rubbed them on his
lips as he shook, to try to stop his crying, and on his eyes to try to wipe away the vision of having
seen his father burned alive. For months he had cried and panted and begged to touch and soothe
the burns, but they would not let him.

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.

Darken Rahl took his fingers away from the scar and, picking up the knife, put the thoughts of that
time out of his mind. He was a man now. He was the Master. He put his mind back to the matter at
hand. He wove the proper spell, and then plunged the knife into the boy's chest.

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.

He laid his arms across the body and offered prayers to the spirits. His face lifted to the dark
windows above as he closed his eyes and continued the incantations, rolling them out without
having to think. For an hour he went on with the words of the ceremony, smearing the blood on his
chest at the proper time.

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.

At last finished, he went to the sacred bowl and found the water almost boiled away, as it should
be. With magic, he floated the bowl back to the polished stone block and let it cool a little before he
took a stone pestle and began grinding. He mashed, sweat running from his face, until he had
worked the heart, brain, and testicles into a paste, to which he added magic powders from pockets
in his discarded robes.

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.

With his fingers, he ate from the bowl. He hated the taste of meat, and never ate anything but
plants. Now, though, there was no choice, the way was the way. If he wanted to go to the
underworld, he had to eat the flesh. He ignored the taste, and ate it all, trying to think of it as
vegetable paste.

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.

At last ready, all preparations done, all charms spoken, all spells cast, the Master raised his head
and opened his eyes.

"Come to me, Carl," he whispered in the secret ancient language.

There was a moment of dead silence, and then a wailing roar. The ground shook.

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.

The Shinga came, transparent at first, like smoke rising from the ground, turning, as if unscrewing
itself from the white sand, lured by the drawing. Its head reared as it struggled to pull itself through
the drawing, snorting steam from its flared nostrils. Rahl calmly watched as the fearsome beast
rose, becoming solid as it came, ripping the ground and pulling the sand up with it, its powerful
hind legs pulling through at last as it reared with a wail. A hole opened, black as pitch. Sand around
the edges fell away into the bottomless blackness. The Shinga floated above it. Piercing brown eyes
looked down at Rahl.

"Thank you for coming, Carl."

The beast bent forward, nuzzling its muzzle against the Master's bare chest. Rahl came to his feet
and stroked the Shinga's head as it bucked, calming its impatience to be off. When at last it quieted,
Rahl climbed onto its back and held its neck tight.

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.

From the shadows of the trees, Demmin Nass stepped forward, forehead beaded with sweat. "Safe
journey, my friend," he whispered, "safe journey."

CHAPTER 2

5
THE RAIN HELD OFF for the time being, but the sky remained thickly overcast, as it had been for
almost as long as she could remember. Sitting alone on a small bench against the wall of another
building, Kahlan smiled to herself as she watched Richard construct the roof of the spirit house.
Sweat ran off his bare back, over the swell of skis muscles, over the scars where the gar's claws had
raked his back.

Richard was working with Savidlin and some other men, teaching them. He had told her he didn't
need her to translate, that working with one's hands was universal, and if they had to partly figure it
out themselves, they would understand it better and have more pride in what they had done.

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.

At first, Richard hadn't told her what he was doing; he just smiled and said she would have to wait
and see. First, he took blocks of clay, about one by two feet, and made wavelike forms. Half the
block's face was a concave trough, like a gutter, the other half along rounded hump. He hollowed
them out and asked the women who worked the pottery to fire them.

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.

The women followed him around, inspecting his work closely, so he enlisted their help. Soon he
had a whole crew of smiling, chatting women making the slabs and forming them, showing him
how to do it better. When the slabs were dry, they could be pulled from the forms. While these
were being fired, the women, by then buzzing with curiosity, made more. When they asked how
many they should make, he said to just keep making them.

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.

"You're making clay roofing tiles, aren't you?" Kahlan had asked him.

"Yes," he had said with a smile.

"Richard, I have seen thatched roofs that do not leak."

"So have L"

"Then why not simply make their grass roofs over properly, so they don't leak?"

"Do you know how to thatch roofs?"

"No."

"Neither do 1. But I know how to make tile roofs, so that's what I have to do."

While he was building the fireplace, and showing Savidlin how to do it, he had other men strip the
grass off the roof, leaving a skeleton of poles that ran the length of the building, poles that had been
used to tie down each course of grass. Now they would be used to secure the clay tiles.

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.

It seemed as if half the village was engaged in the construction. The Bird Man came by from time
to time to watch the work, pleased with what he saw. Sometimes he sat with Kahlan, saying
nothing, sometimes he talked with her, but mostly he just watched. Occasionally he slipped in a
question about Richard's character.

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.

She knew better. She was a Confessor. They were afraid of her.

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.

But then, Richard didn't know what she was.

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.

The Bird Man had seemed pleased with the new roof. Shaking his head slowly, he had smiled to
himself when he had seen enough to figure out how it would work. But the other six elders were
less impressed. To them, a little rain dripping in once in a while seemed hardly enough to become
concerned about; it had done so their whole life. and they were resentful of an outsider coming in
and showing them how stupid they had been. Someday, when one of the elders died, Savidlin
would become one of the six. Kahlan wished he were one now, for they could use such a strong
ally among the elders.

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 didn't know if killing the last man of the quad had changed him, made him harder. Learning
to kill made you weigh matters differently; made it easier to kill again. That was something she
knew all too well.

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 there was no way she could ever tell Richard that there had been no need for him to
kill. What made it doubly bad was that he had killed for her, had thought he was saving her.

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.

And, they enjoyed what they did to Confessors.

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.

Before Kahlan had became a woman, her mother had been stricken with a terrible sickness, one no
healer was able to turn back. She had died all too quickly of the awful wasting disease. Confessors
were a close sisterhood; when trouble struck one, it struck all. Dennee's mother took in Kahlan and
comforted her. The two girls, best friends, had been thrilled that they were to be sisters, as they
called themselves from then on, and it helped ease the pain of losing her mother.

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 one fateful day, Kahlan had been away for a short time, taking a confession from a murderer
who was to be hanged, a mission that was to have been Dennee's. Kahlan had gone in her sister's
place because she wanted to spare Dennee the torment of the task. Dennee hated taking
confessions, hated seeing the look in their eyes. Sometimes she would cry for days after. She never
asked Kahlan to go in her stead, she wouldn't, but the look of relief on her face when Kahlan told
her she would do it was words enough. Kahlan, too, disliked taking confessions, but she was
stronger, wiser, more reflective. She understood, and accepted, that being a Confessor was her
power; it was who she was, and so it didn't hurt her the way it did Dennee. Kahlan had always been
able to place her head before her heart. And she would have done any dirty job in Dennee's place.

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.

"I was .. . coming to meet you .... I wanted to walk back with you," Dennee had said as Kahlan
cradled the girl's head in her lap. "A quad caught me. I'm sorry. I got one of them, Kahlan. I
touched him. I got one of them. You would have been proud of me."

In shock, Kahlan held Dennee's head, comforted her, telling her it would be all right.

"Please, Kahlan . . . pull my dress down for me?" Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a
faraway place. Wet and weak. "My arms don't work."

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.

Dennee whispered Kahlan's name, beckoning her closer. "Darken Rahl did this to me . . . he wasn't
here, but he did this to me."

"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.

"Please, Kahlan," she whispered, "kill him. Stop this madness. I wish I were strong enough. Kill
him for me."

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.

"I will," she promised.

Dennee relaxed back in her arms. Kahlan took off the bone necklace and placed it around her
sister's neck.

"I want you to have this. It will help protect you."

"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."

Kahlan closed her eyes against the sickening sight of her sister's pain, rocked her in her arms, and
kissed her forehead.

"Remember me, Kahlan. Remember the fun we had."

"Bad memories?"

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.

"Please forgive me for showing weakness, " she said, clearing her throat as her fingers wiped the
tears from her face.

He regarded her with soft brown eyes and sat lightly beside her on the short bench.

"It is not a weakness, child, to be a victim."

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

She felt so alone. She so missed Dennee. The Bird Man put his arm tenderly around her shoulder
and gave her a short, fatherly hug.

"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. "

He nodded his understanding. "Though we be different peoples, we hurt the same. " With his
thumb, he brushed a tear from her cheek, then reached into his pocket. "Hold out your hand. "

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.

"I thought you might like to gaze upon a small vision of beauty among the ugliness. "

"Thank you, " she smiled.

"Do you wish to keep him?"

Kahlan watched the bird a moment longer, its bright yellow feathers, the way it cocked its head,
and then cast it into the air.

"I have no right, " she said, watching the bird flit away. "It should be free. "

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.

"You wish to kill him, this man, Darken Rahl?" he asked without turning to her.

"Very much. "

"And is your power enough?" "No," she admitted.

"And does the Seeker's blade have enough power to kill him?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

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.

"As you said yourself, it is dangerous to be with a Confessor who is in great want of something. I
think this is also true of the Seeker. Maybe even more so. "

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. "

The Bird Man seemed to laugh without sound. "You and I are too smart for these tricks with words.
Let us speak without them. " He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "I have tried to tell
the other elders what a wonderful thing the Seeker is doing for our people, how good it is that he is
teaching us these things. They are not so sure, as they are set in their ways and can be stubborn,
.sometimes almost beyond my tolerance. I fear what you and the Seeker will do to my people if the
elders say no. "

"Richard has given you his word that he will not harm your people. "

"Words are not as strong as a father's blood. Or as strong as a sister's. "

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. "

"Richard keeps his eyes on you, he watches over you, cares for you. "

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 . . . "

"Please do not remind me. It is trouble of my own making, with consequences 1 must bear, and fear
greatly. And that only proves my words. The Mud People live in a land distant from the other
peoples. That has given them the luxury of being out of reach of trouble in the past. This trouble
has long arms; it will reach you. The elders can argue against helping all they want, but they will
not be able to argue against the fangs of truth. All of your people will pay the price if these few put
pride before wisdom. "

The Bird Man listened carefully, respectfully. Kahlan turned to him.

"I cannot honestly say at this moment what I will do if the elders say no. It is not my wish to harm
your people, but to save them from the pain I have seen. I have seen what Darken Rahl does to
people. I know what he will do. If I knew l could somehow stop Rahl by killing Savidlin's precious
little boy, 1 would do it without hesitation, with my bare hands if need be, because as much as the
doing of it would wound my heart, 1 know 1 would be saving all the other precious little children.
It is a terrifying burden I carry, the burden of the warrior. You are one who has killed other men to
save others, and I know you take no joy in it. Darken Rahl takes joy in it, believe me. Please, help
me save your people without hurting any of them. " Tears ran down her cheeks. "I want so much
not to hurt anyone. "

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. "

"If we can find the thing we seek, and keep it from Darken Rahl until the first day of winter, he will
die. No one else will have to be hurt. But we must have help to find it."

"The first day of winter. Child, that is not much time. This season withers away, the next will be
here soon. "

"I do not make the rules of life, honored elder. If you know the secret to stopping time, please tell
me, that I might make it so. "

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. "

"It is not the Seeker or me you must fear if they say no, " she said as she lay against his shoulder,
staring off at nothing in particular. "It is the one from D'Hara. He will come like a storm and
destroy you. You have no chance against him. He will butcher you. "

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.

Later, while Weselan cooked sweet roots, the pleasant aroma mingling with the smoke, Savidlin
showed Richard how to carve proper arrow points for different animals, harden them in the coals of
the cooking fire, and apply poison to their tips. Kahlan lay on a skin on the floor with Siddin curled
up in a ball, snuggled asleep against her stomach as she stroked his dark hair. She had to swallow
back the lump in her throat as she thought about how she had told the Bird Man she would even be
willing to kill this little boy.

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.

-+---
The next day was windy and exceptionally warm, with occasional periods of driving rain. By early
afternoon a crowd had gathered at the spirit house as the roof was completed and a fire started in
the new fireplace. Cries of excitement and wonder rose from the people when the fist wisps of
smoke emerged from the chimney. They peeked in the doorway to see the fire burning without
filling the room with smoke. The idea of living without smoke in their eyes seemed as thrilling as
living without water dripping on their heads. A wind-driven rain like this was the worst. It went
right through the grass roofs.

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.

Ignoring the onlookers, stopping only to strap on his sword, Richard headed for the center of the
village, where the elders waited under one of the open pole buildings. Kahlan fell in to his left,
Savidlin to the right, intending to stand up for him. The crowd watched him go, then swept behind,
spilling around the buildings, laughing and shouting. Richard's jaw was set tight.

"Do you think you need to take the sword?" she asked.

He looked to her as he continued his long strides. He smiled crookedly. Rainwater ran from his wet,
matted hair. "I am the Seeker."

She gave him a disapproving look. "Richard, don't play games with me. You know what I mean."

His smile widened. "I'm hoping it will serve as a reminder of why they should do the right thing."

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.

Toffalar stood tall and proud at the center of the leaking pole structure. The rain dripping around
him splashed in little puddles on the floor. Surin, Caldus, Arbrin, Breginderin, and Hajanlet stood
to his sides. They each wore their coyote hides, something Kahlan had learned they did only when
official events were taking place. It seemed as if the whole village was out. They spread around the
open area, sitting under roofs of the open buildings, filling windows, all watching as work stopped
and they waited to hear the elders speak of their future.

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.

"Don't forget, no matter what these men say, we must get out of here if we are to have a chance of
stopping Rahl. We are two, they are many, sword or no sword."

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."

The six stood grim-faced as Kahlan translated. There was a long silence when she finished.

At last Toffalar spoke in a determined voice. "We are not pleased. "

Richard's expression turned dark when she told him Toffalar's words. "Why?"

"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."

Savidlin was livid, but he did not move. The elder, a slight smile on his pinched lips, turned back to
Richard.

"Now that your tricks have failed, " he said with disdain

"would you think to harm our people, Richard With The Temper?" It was a taunt, aimed to discredit
Richard.

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