Toffalar's face twisted into bitter rage. Whispers and fear spread through the onlookers. Kahlan
glanced over to the Bird Man. He seemed to have aged years. She could see in his heavy brown
eyes how sorry he was. For a moment their eyes locked and they shared the grief of what they both
knew was going to sweep over all their lives; then his gaze sank to the ground.
"Have the courage to do one last thing for your people." Richard's tone sent a chill through her.
Kahlan translated out of reflex, too transfixed to do anything else. Then, unbelievably, he turned
the sword around, holding it by the point, holding the hilt out to the elders. "Take my sword," he
commanded. "Use it to kill the women and children. It will be more merciful than what Darken
Rahl will do to them. Have the courage to spare them the torture they will suffer. Give them the
charity of a quick death." His countenance withered their expressions
Then at last he broke his hot glare at them and turned to her, his face changing. When she saw the
look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. It was a look of heartache for a people he had come to love,
but could not help. All eyes stayed on him as he closed the distance between them and took her
gently by the arm.
"You did not choose wrong, Richard; they did." Her anger at the elders had a finality to it, too, a
door closing on any hope for these people. She cut off her concern for them; they were the walking
dead. They had been offered a chance, and had chosen their own fate.
They gathered up their things from Savidlin's house, stuffing their cloaks into the packs. Neither
spoke. Kahlan felt empty, drained. When their eyes met at last, they suddenly came together in a
wordless embrace, a shared grief for their new friends, for what they both knew would happen to
them. They had gambled with the only thing they had-time. And lost.
"The night stone is gone."
"No. I never took it out of my pack. Never."
He took a step closer to her. "You don't understand. We have to find it."
"Because I think that thing can wake the dead." Her mouth fell open. "Kahlan, I've been thinking
about it. Do you remember how nervous Adie was when she gave it to me, how she kept looking
around until it was put away? And when did the shadow things in the pass start coming for us?
After I took it out. Remember?"
"She was talking about it giving off light. She said nothing about waking the dead. I can't believe
Adie wouldn't warn us."
Richard turned to the door, glaring out. "I can't believe it. The world is being sucked into oblivion,
and that old woman gives us riddles." He pounded his fist against the doorframe. "She should have
told us!"
He stared out the door, thinking. "If you have need enough. That's what she said. Like water. It is
valuable only under the right conditions, that to a drowning man it is of little worth and great
trouble. That was how she was trying to warn us. Great trouble." He turned back to the room,
picking up the pack again, taking another look inside. "It was here last night, I saw it. What could
have happened to it?" Together they looked up, their eyes meeting. "Siddin," they both said at once
She saw Savidlin, frightened and confused that they were calling out his son's name.
Savidlin paled, whirled around, searching, then ran off in a half crouch, looking for his son, his
head darting among the running people. Kahlan didn't see Weselan anywhere. Richard and Kahlan
separated, widening their search. The area was turning to mass confusion; she had to push people
out of her way. Kahlan's heart was in her throat. If Siddin opened the pouch . .
As people cleared the center of the village, there he was, paying no attention to the panic all around
him as he sat in the mud, shaking the leather pouch in his little fist, trying to get the stone out.
He couldn't hear her screams. Maybe he wouldn't be able to get it out. He was just a defenseless
little boy. Please, she begged in her mind, let the fates be kind to him.
Shadow things began to materialize all around. They turned like wisps of mist in the damp air, as if
looking about. Then they floated for Siddin.
His sword flashed through the air, cutting through the shadows as he ran in a straight line for
Siddin. When the sword sliced through them, they howled in agony and spun apart. Upon hearing
the terrifying wails Siddin looked up and froze; wide-eyed.
Something dark and small zipped past her, making her breath catch in her throat. Then another,
behind her. Arrows. The air suddenly became thick with arrows, the Bird Man having ordered his
hunters to bring down the shadows. Every one went true and found its mark, but they simply passed
through the shadow things as if they were whizzing through smoke. Poison tipped arrows were
flying wildly everywhere. She knew that if one even nicked her or Richard, they were dead. Now
she had to dodge the arrows as well as the shadows. She heard another whistle past her ear as she
ducked at the last second. One skipped in the mud and flew past her leg.
Kahlan was still a long way off, not able to run in as Richard had, cutting through them. She knew
that if she inadvertently touched a shadow, she was dead. There were so many materializing around
her the very air was like a gray maze. Richard fought around the boy in a circle that got smaller all
the time. He held the sword in both hands, swinging it wildly. He dared not slow for an instant or
they would close over him. There was no end to the shadow things.
Another arrow zipped past, the feather flicking her hair.
Frustrated, he recognized her plight and reluctantly called a halt to the archers. But then they all
drew knives and quickly advanced on the shadows. They had no idea what they were up against.
They would be killed to the last man.
The Bird Man held his arm up, stopping his men. She knew how helpless he felt as he watched her
dart back among the shadows, angling slowly closer to Richard and Siddin.
"Stop them! They are destroying our ancestors' spirits! Shoot them with your arrows! Shoot the
outsiders!"
"Shoot them!" he yelled, red-faced, shaking his fist. "You heard me! Shoot them."
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Toffalar. He had a knife and was running toward
her. She dismissed the danger; sooner or later he would run into a shadow and be killed. He stopped
here and there to plead with the shadow things. She couldn't hear his voice above the wails. The
next time she looked he had closed most of the distance. It was unbelievable that he hadn't run into
one. Somehow the gaps just opened for him as he ran heedlessly, recklessly, for her, his face
contorted in rage. Still, she didn't worry that he could make it; soon he had to touch one, and would
be dead.
With a start, she saw the knife slashing through the air. Toffalar had reached her. Lost in hate, he
screamed things she couldn't even understand. But she understood the knife, what he intended. He
intended to kill her. She dodged his slash. It was her opening.
She started to reach to touch Toffalar, but caught sight of Richard looking toward her. She faltered
at the thought of him seeing her use her power. She hesitated, and let Toffalar have the instant he
needed. Richard screamed her name in warning, then turned to fight back the shadows from behind
him.
Shock and pain ignited her rage. Rage at her own stupidity. She did not miss the opening a second
time. Her left hand came up and caught Toffalar by the throat. She felt her grip shut off his air for
an instant. She needed only to touch him; grabbing him by the throat was a reflex of her rage, not
her power.
In the calm spark of an instant that to her twisted for an eternity, she saw the look of fear in
Toffalar's eyes, the realization of his fate. She saw in his eyes his railing against that end, felt his
muscles beginning to tense, to fight her, his hands starting the ever so slow, hopeless journey to her
grip at his throat.
As she had done countless times before, in her calm, the Mother Confessor relaxed her restraint.
Released at last, her power slammed into Toffalar's body.
Toffalar's eyes went wide. The muscles of his face went slack. His mouth fell open.
The calm expression on her face contorted with anger. With all her strength she shoved Toffalar
backward, at the ring of shadows around Richard and Siddin. Arms flung in the air, he fell into the
shadows and screamed at the contact before falling to the mud. Somehow, the contact opened a
brief, small gap in the ring of shadows. Without hesitation she dove for it, flinging herself through
an instant before it closed behind her.
"Hurry!" Richard yelled.
A shadowy hand reached for her face. She flinched back. The sword hissed past her face, through
the shadow. It added its wail to the others. Siddin's eyes were transfixed on the shadows, all his
muscles rigid. Richard was right over her, swinging the sword in weaving patterns all around.
There was no more ground to give. It was just the three of them now. Siddin's slippery fingers
wouldn't open.
The shadows stopped. She could hear Richard's heavy breathing as he continued slashing at them.
Slowly, at first, the shadows began moving back, as if confused, lost, searching. Then they
dissolved back into the air, retreating to the underworld whence they had come. In a moment, they
were gone. Except for Toffalar's body, the three of them were in an empty expanse of mud.
"Kahlan, " Siddin whimpered, "they were calling my name. "
He hugged his arms around her neck as she comforted him. She felt weak, shaky. They had almost
lost their lives, to save a single one. Something she had told him the Seeker must not do, yet they
had done it without a second thought. How could they not have tried? Having Siddin's arms around
her made it all worth it. Richard was still holding the sword in both hands; its tip sunk in the mud.
She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder
"Richard," she said, startled, "it's just me. It's over. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Sorry," he managed, still trying to catch his breath. "When your hand touched me . . . I guess I
thought it was a shadow."
"Thank you, Mother Confessor, thank you for saving my boy, " she bawled. "Thank you, Kahlan,
thank you. "
Weselan turned tearfully back to take Siddin in her arms. Kahlan saw Toffalar lying close by, dead.
She flopped down in the mud, exhausted, and pulled her knees up with her arms around them.
A hand reached under her good arm, pulling her up. It was the Bird Man. She bit her quivering lip,
forcing herself to stop crying. She could not let these people see her showing weakness. She was a
Confessor.
Kahlan held her head up. "Thank you, honored elder. " "This will need to be stitched together. I
will have the gentlest healer among us do the work. "
The Bird Man lifted an eyebrow to her, and gave a nod, indicating Richard. "Your warning that I
should not want to give the Seeker cause to draw his sword in anger was as true as an arrow from
my finest archer. " There was a twinkle in his sharp brown eyes; the corners of his mouth curled in
a smile. He looked down at the Seeker. "You made a good showing of yourself too, Richard With
The Temper. Fortunately the evil spirits still have not learned to carry swords. "
She told him, and he gave a grim smile at their private joke as he came to his feet and put away the
sword. He reached out and took the pouch from her hand. She hadn't even realized it was still
clutched there. Richard put it in his pocket. "May we never encounter spirits armed with swords."
He reached down and grabbed a fistful of the coyote hide around Toffalar. The body rolled over in
the mud as he tore it off. He turned to the hunters.
The men looked at each other, unsure. "Elder, you mean all of it except the skull?"
This sent a chill through the crowd. It was just about the worst thing you could do to an elder, a
dishonor of the highest order. It meant his life had mattered for nothing. The men gave a nod. No
one spoke up for the dead elder, including the five standing nearby.
Savidlin put his hands around the muddy hide with the reverence due a gold crown. He gave a
small, proud smile and a nod to the Bird Man.
Savidlin walked over and turned, standing between Kahlan and Richard. He put the hide around his
shoulders, beaming with pride at Weselan, and then addressed the gathered people. Kahlan looked
out and realized that the whole village surrounded them.
The Bird Man smiled a small smile. The smile evaporated as he turned to the other five elders.
Though he hid it well, Kahlan could see the Bird Man's eyes flash with the ghost of his anger. "Step
forward. " They gave one another sidelong glances, then did as ordered. "The demand made by
Savidlin is extraordinary. It must be unanimous. Do you make the same demand?"
They stood grimly, facing Savidlin. The Bird Man made no movement to interfere. There was a
long silence as the crowd waited, spellbound. At last, Caldus took a step forward. He put his hand
on Savidlin's bow and gently lowered its point to the ground.
"Speak then. " Caldus walked to Richard, stopping in front of him, looking him in the eye.
Head bowed, he dropped to his knees in the mud in front of Richard and Kahlan. She translated it
all word for word, omitting only her title. The other four elders came and knelt beside him, adding
their sincere request to that of Caldus. Kahlan sighed in relief. At last, they had what they wanted;
what they needed.
Kahlan could see the muscle in his jaw tighten and flex. She went cold. She recognized the look in
his eyes. The anger. These men had crossed a line against him. And against her. She remembered
how he had slid the sword away when he had last stood with them, this very day. It had been final,
and Richard meant it. He was not thinking. He was thinking of killing.
Kahlan stole a glance at the Bird Man. He did not move, nor did he have any intention of moving.
Richard did not know it, but under the law of the Mud People, these men were his to kill if he so
wished. It was no false offer they had made. Savidlin had not been bluffing either; he would have
killed them. In a blink. Strength, to the Mud People, meant the strength to kill your adversary.
These men were already dead in the eyes of the village, and only Richard could give them back
their lives.
Richard's knuckles were white as he held the Sword of Truth level in both hands, over the heads of
the five elders. Kahlan could see the rage building in him, the hot need, the fury. The whole scene
felt like a dream, a dream she could only watch helplessly, one she couldn't stop.
She understood.
Could he trust these men with his chance of stopping Rahl, trust that they were sincere? Could
Richard trust them with his life? Or should he have a new council of elders, ones who might be
more intent on his success?
She watched him as he stood over the elders. The rain had stopped. Sweat ran from his face. She
remembered the pain he suffered when he had killed the last man of the quad. She watched the
anger building, hoping it would be enough to protect him from what he was about to do.
The blade of the sword came up in front of Richard's face. His head tilted back. His eyes closed. He
shook with wrath. The five did not move as they knelt before the Seeker.
But this was an indirect threat, a different kind of killing. Very different. This was an execution.
And Richard was both judge and executioner.
Kahlan snatched a quick glance around. The Mud People stood transfixed, gripped by the mortal
drama playing out before their eyes, not wanting to watch, yet unable to turn away. No one spoke.
No one moved. No one even blinked.
"Blade, be true this day," he whispered.
"Look at me," he said to Caldus. The elder did not move. "Look at me while I do this!" he yelled.
"Look into my eyes!" Still Caldus did not move.
"Then you tell him!"
He didn't answer, but simply looked at Richard, held by the Seeker's glare.
The Seeker screamed as he brought down the Sword of Truth. Its tip whistled through the air. The
crowd gasped.
For what seemed an eternity, Richard stood, unmoving, the muscles in his arms hard as steel; then
at last they relaxed, and he withdrew the blade from over Caldus, withdrew his burning stare.
She answered quietly.
There was a brief moment of silence; then the Mud People erupted in a wild cheer. Richard slid the
sword back into its scabbard and then helped the elders to their feet. Pale, they gave him smiles,
pleased with his action, and in no small measure relieved. They turned to the Bird Man.
The Bird Man stood with his arms folded. He looked from the elders to Richard and Kahlan. His
eyes showed the strain of the emotional ordeal he had just witnessed. Dropping his arms to his
sides, he approached Richard. The Seeker looked drained, exhausted. The Bird Man put an arm
around each of their shoulders as if to congratulate them on their courage, then put a hand on each
of the elders' shoulders to let them know all was set straight. He turned and headed off, intending
for them to follow. Kahlan and Richard walked behind him, Savidlin and the other elders followed
behind, a royal escort.
He looked ahead as he walked, letting out a deep breath. "No."
She wondered if he had done the right thing, not killing them. She knew what she would have done
in his place; she would not have allowed the option of clemency. Too much was at stake. But then,
she had seen more than he had. Maybe she had seen too much, was too ready to kill. You couldn't
kill every time there was a risk; risk was constant. It had to stop somewhere.
"It throbs like mad," she admitted. "The Bird Man says it must be stitched together."
It was as close as he would come to a reprimand. Her face burned, and she was glad he wasn't
looking at her to see it. He didn't know what it was she could do, but he knew she had hesitated.
She had almost made a fatal mistake, had put them all at risk because she hadn't wanted him to see.
He hadn't pressed her when he had the chance, the right, just as now, he put her feelings first. Her
heart felt as if it would break.
The Bird Man regarded her with an intense expression. "Are you prepared to do this?"
"I mean that if the two of you want to become Mud People, then you must do that which is required
of Mud People: respect our laws. Our ways. "
The Bird Man knew she was avoiding the question and didn't let her get away with it. "This is not
something 1 do lightly. 1 do it because I know you are true in your struggle, that you mean to shield
my people from the storm that comes. But 1 must have your help in this. You must agree to our
ways. Not to please me, but out of respect for my people. They expect it. "
"Though you are a warrior, you are also a woman, therefore it may be excused. That much is within
my power. Being a Confessor excludes you from the other. " His eyes showed that this was as far
as his compromise would go. "Not the Seeker. He must do these things. "
"You have .said you will not choose him as your mate. If he will call a gathering, it must be as one
of us."
"We will do what your law requires, " she said, trying not to show what she really thought.
She looked away, over the heads of the waiting ,crowd. "No."
"Then it will be your responsibility to see to it that he does as required. By your word. "
"Kahlan, what's going on? What's wrong'?"
The Bird Man released her chin and turned to his people, blowing the silent whistle he carried
around his neck. He began talking to them of their history, their ways, why they avoided the
influence of outsiders, how they had the right to be a proud people. As he talked, doves began
coming in, landing among the people
Maybe she could simply not tell him some of it. He wouldn't even know. After all, he didn't
understand their language. She would just keep quiet. It was for the best.
Richard sensed that the words of the Bird Man were not yet something he needed to understand and
didn't ask for a translation. The Bird Man finished his introductory remarks, and arrived at the
important part.
Kahlan translated, dropping her title, as the crowd cheered. Smiling, Richard held his hand up to
the people, and they cheered ail the more. Savidlin reached out and gave him a friendly slap on the
back. The Bird Man put a hand on each of their shoulders, giving hers a sympathetic squeeze,
trying to relieve the sting of the agreement he had forced upon her.
"There is one more thing," The Bird Man went on. "These two were not born Mud People. Kahlan
was born a Confessor, a matter of blood, not choosing. Richard With The Temper was born in
Westland, across the boundary, of ways that are a mystery to us. Both have agreed to be Mud
People, to honor our laws and ways from this day on, but we must understand that our ways may be
a mystery to them. We must have patience with them, understand that they are trying for the first
time to be Mud People. We have lived our lives as Mud People, this is their first day. They are as
new children to us. Give them the understanding you would give our children, and they will do
their best. "
Richard didn't waste a second. He turned to the elders.
Kahlan translated, and each elder in turn nodded his agreement.
"Honored elder," Richard said, restraining himself, "the danger is great. I respect your ways, but is
there any way it can be done faster? The lives of our people depend on this."
Richard, too, took a deep breath. "Tomorrow night then."
-+---
Preparations were quickly set underway, and Savidlin took Richard to his home, to care for his cuts
and clean him up. The Bird Man took Kahlan to the healer, to have her wound treated
He left her in the care of a stooped woman named Nissel, instructing her to care for Kahlan as if
she were his daughter. Nissel smiled little, mostly at the oddest times, and spoke little, other than
instructions. Stand here, hold your arm up, put it down, breathe, don't breathe, drink this, lie here,
recite the Candra. Kahlan didn't know what the Candra was. Nissel shrugged and instead had her
balance flat stones atop one another on her stomach while the wound was inspected. When it hurt
and the stones started slipping. Nissel admonished her to try harder to keep the stones balanced.
She was given bitter-tasting leaves to chew while Nissel removed Kahlan's clothes and bathed her.
"Nissel, what are the leaves for?"
Kahlan immediately spit out the leaves. The old woman looked at them on the floor, lifting an
eyebrow to Kahlan.
Nissel frowned with curiosity. "But you sleep, child. You relax then. "
Nissel gave a crooked nod. Then her eyebrows came up. She leaned closer. "Then how do you . . . "
A look of sudden understanding came over Nissel's face. The healer straightened up. "Oh. I see
now. "
When she was finished, Nissel wiped the sweat from Kahlan's face with a cold, wet cloth. Kahlan
was so dizzy and nauseated she couldn't even sit up. Nissel kept her lying down as she applied the
brown paste and wrapped the arm with clean bandages.
Kahlan put her hand on the old woman's arm, and made herself smile. "Thank you, Nissel. "
"You will find it hard to brush your pretty hair until your arm is better. Not many have the honor to
have hair such as yours. I thought you would like it brushed for the banquet. It starts soon. A
handsome young man waits for you outside. "
"Almost the whole time. 1 tried to chase him away with a broom. " Nissel frowned. "But he would
not go. He is very stubborn. Yes?"
Nissel helped her put on her clean clothes. Her arm didn't hurt as much as before. Richard was
leaning impatiently against the outside wall and stood up straight when she came out. He was
washed and clean and fresh-looking, the mud all gone, and was dressed in simple buckskin pants
and tunic, and of course his sword. Nissel was right: he did look handsome.
"I'm fine." She smiled. "Nissel has made me well."
Nissel smiled at the translation, leaned closer, and gave him a deep look he found uncomfortable.
"No, " Kahlan said bristling. "I am sure he will do just fine."
Wonderful aromas from the cooking fires drifted to her through the night air, but failed to spark her
appetite. Women dressed in their brightest dresses rushed around, with young girls at their sides,
tending to errands, seeing to it that all went well. The men wore their finest skins, ceremonial
knives hung at their waists, and their hair was slicked down with sticky mud in traditional fashion.
Under grass roofs, musicians pounded drums and scraped paddles up and down ripples carved on
boldas, long bell-shaped hollow tubes. The eerie strains, music meant to call ancestors spirits to the
banquet, carried far out into the grasslands. Other musicians sat on the opposite side of the open
area, the sound: of the two groups sometimes joining, sometimes separating, calling to one another
in haunting and occasionally frantic beats an( knells. Men in costume, some dressed as animals,
others painted as stylized hunters, jumped and danced, acting out stories o Mud People legends.
Gleeful children surrounded the dancers imitating them and stamping their feet in time with the
drumming. Young couples off in darker areas watched the activities a they nuzzled close together.
Kahlan had never felt so alone.
Richard, resigned to the fact that they would have to wait an other day for the gathering, tried to
make the best of it, smiling and nodding at chattered advice he couldn't understand. People
streamed past the elders' shelter in a steady procession, to greet the newest Mud People with gentle
slaps. In all fairness, Kahlan had to admit that they paid as much regard to her as to Richard
"This is good," Richard said, taking another rib. "I think it's pork.''
"And the venison, it's good too. Here, have a piece." He tried to hand her a strip.
"You all right?"
"You haven't eaten any meat since we've been with the Mud People."
He shrugged and ate the venison.
Four young women, all with shy smiles and short hair slicked down with mud, timidly approached.
Richard greeted them with smiles and nods and gentle slaps, as he had the other people. They
stood, pushing against each other, giggling, whispering how fine he was to look upon. Kahlan
glanced back at the Bird Man. He gave her a single nod.
"They are for you," she said in an even voice.
Kahlan took a deep breath as she looked at the fires for a moment. "I am only your guide, Richard.
If you need instruction in this, you will have to seek it elsewhere."
"All four? For me?"
"No, you are to pick one." "Pick one?" he repeated, the stupid grin still on his face.
"Pick one. Now that will be hard. How long do I have to decide?"
The Bird Man looked a little surprised by the question. "Before lie goes to his bed. Then he must
pick one, and give our people his child. In that way he will be joined to us by blood. "
Richard considered carefully what he was told. "Very wise." He looked back at the Bird Man and
smiled and nodded. "The Bird Man is very wise."
The Bird Man and the other elders seemed pleased. Events were going as they wished.
Kahlan pushed some of her hair back and turned to the girls.
He gave the four a big grin and eagerly motioned them up on the platform. Two sat to the far side
of him, the other two squeezed between Kahlan and Richard, forcing her to move over as they sat
down. They leaned against him, putting their hands on his arms, and felt his muscles as they
giggled. They commented to Kahlan about how big he was, like her, and how he would make big
children. They wanted to know if he thought they were pretty. Kahlan said she didn't know. They
begged her to ask him.
"Of course! They're beautiful! All of them. That's why I can't decide. Don't you think they're
beautiful?"
The four girls fed Richard with their fingers and giggled. He told Kahlan it was the best banquet he
had ever been to, and asked if she didn't think so, too. She swallowed the lump in her throat and
agreed it was wonderful as she looked away blankly, at the fiery sparks swirling up into the
blackness.
Kahlan snapped out of her distant thoughts.
The woman held the tray in front of Kahlan. She politely declined. The woman held the tray out to
Richard. He took a strip. The four young women shook their bowed heads, declining, then watched
Richard. Kahlan waited until he took a bite, met the Bird Man's eyes briefly, then turned once more
to watch the fires.
Struggling to slow her breathing, she looked over at his grinning face. "You are right, it is a
difficult choice. I think I would rather leave it to you."
"This is kind of strange, I've never had anything like it before." He paused, his voice changed.
"What is it?" The question had an edge to it that frightened her, almost made her jump. He had a
threatening, hard look in his eyes. She hadn't intended to tell him, but the way he looked at her
made her forget that pledge.
"A firefighter." Richard leaned forward. "What kind of animal is a firefighter?" Kahlan looked into
his piercing gray eyes. In a soft voice she answered, "One of Darken Rahl's men."
He knew. She realized he had known before he asked her the question. He wanted to see if she
would lie to him.
She asked the elders how they had come to know about the firefighters. Savidlin was only too eager
to tell the story. When he finished, she turned back to Richard.
"And have I eaten enough of it to satisfy the elders?" The expression in his eyes cut through her.
With deliberate care, Richard laid down the piece of flesh. The smile returned to his lips, and he
looked to the four young women as he spoke to her, wrapping his arms around the two closest to
him.
"Your legs work," she snapped.
Rising to her feet, she shot the Bird Man a furious glare, and then stormed off toward Savidlin's
house. She was glad to be away from Richard, to be away from watching those girls pawing him.
When she reached Savidlin's house, she went inside and flopped down on the skin that covered the
floor, trying unsuccessfully to keep from crying. Just a few minutes, she told herself, that was all
she needed to bring herself back under control. Richard was doing what the Mud People demanded,
what she herself had promised the Bird Man he would do. She had no right to be angry, none at all;
Richard was not hers. She cried with deep pain. She had no right to feel this way, no right to be
angry with him. But she was; she was furious.
Richard was just doing what was necessary to get a gathering, what was necessary to find the box
and stop Rahl. Kahlan wiped the tears from her eyes.
She snatched an apple from his pack. What did it matter. She couldn't change the way things were.
But she didn't have to be happy about it. She bit her lip as she stomped out the door, trying to make
her face once again show nothing. At least it was dark.
"Here." She slapped the apple in his hand and sat down in a huff.
Stunned, her eyes came up to his. He knew. He knew this, too, was a commitment she had made on
his behalf. "No. Whatever you decide will be fine, I'm sure." She looked away again.
She looked again at their faces. "The one at your right arm. The Bird Man is her uncle.
He took the girl's head in both of his hands, kissing her on the forehead. She beamed. The Bird Man
beamed. The elders beamed. The other girls left.
And then she heard a collective gasp from the elders and their wives, then shouts.
Richard was holding his arm back to the elders, commanding silence, and for them to stay put. But
he was looking right into her eyes.
Wide-eyed, she looked back at the elders and told them what Richard had said. They lowered
themselves uncertainly back in place. He leaned back, turning casually to them, an innocent
expression on his face.
He let his gaze settle back on Kahlan as he took another bite, letting his words sink in after she
translated. The girl next to him was getting nervous. The elders were getting nervous. The Bird
Man showed no emotion. Richard had his arms half folded, one elbow resting in his other hand, so
he could hold the apple near his mouth, where everyone could see it. He started to take a bite, then
stopped, thinking to offer a bite to the Bird Man's niece. She turned her head away. He looked back
at the elders.
The elders looked apprehensively from one to another. None spoke. The mood on the platform had
definitely changed. They were no longer in control; Richard was. It had happened in a blink. They
were now afraid to move much more than their eyes. Without looking at them, Richard went on.
He held them in his hard gaze. Savidlin grinned. The other five were of no mind to challenge
Richard, and turned to the Bird Man beseeching direction. He sat still, a bead of sweat rolling down
the leathery skin of his neck, silver hair limp on the buckskin shoulders of his tunic, holding
Richard's eyes for a short time. His mouth turned up in a small smile that showed in his eyes, too,
and he nodded slightly to himself.
Richard nodded seriously. "Yes, I was. But I will just have to live with my failing, and try to make
the Mud People, my people, proud of me in other ways." He was closing the deal with a condition
of his own: they were not going to be allowed to back out now; he was a Mud Person and this
would not change it.
"Are there any other conditions that I don't know about?"
He turned to the elders. "Is my presence required any longer tonight?"
Richard stood slowly, towering over her. His boots were right in front of her. Kahlan knew he was
looking down at her, but she fixed her eyes on the floor.
She couldn't bring herself to look up at him.
-+---
Kahlan sat on the elders' platform, in a fog of loneliness, watching her fingers shake. The others
watched the dancers. With supreme effort she counted the drumbeats and used the count to help her
control her breathing and keep from crying. The Bird Man came and sat next to her. She found
herself cheered by the company.
Kahlan was surprised she could still laugh.
He lifted an eyebrow. "1 shall hone my wits to defend myself in the encounter. "
"I should have listened to you, " she sobbed. "1 should have asked him his wishes. I had no right to
do as I did. "
"But it hurts so much to have him angry at me," she cried.
"Really? " He laughed silently and nodded. "Take it on faith, child."
"Don't tell me. Tell him. "
"And while you are offering apologies, offer mine also. "
He sighed. "Being old, being an elder, does not exclude you from holding foolish ideas. Today, I
too made a mistake, for Richard, and for my niece. I, too, had no right. Thank him for me, for
keeping me from imposing deeds I should have questioned, but did not. " He took his whistle from
around his neck. "Give him this gift, with my thanks, for opening my eyes. May it serve him well.
Tomorrow, I will show him how to use it."
He smiled. "1 have others. Go now."
"We all do, child. Go."
At last she went off to Savidlin's home, deciding that that was where he would be. But the house
was empty. She sat down on the floor skin, thinking. Would he leave without her? Her heart
panicked. Her eyes searched around the floor. No. His pack was still there, where she had left it
when she had gotten him the apple. Besides, he wouldn't leave before the gathering.
Light flared suddenly in the darkness, lighting the walls around her. At first, she didn't realized
what it was; then, looking out between the buildings, she saw lightning. Lightning at the horizon, in
every direction, all around, lacing its angry fingers into the sky, into the dark clouds, lighting them
from inside with boiling colors. There was no thunder. And then it was gone, leaving darkness once
more.
The spirit house sat in the dark, away from the sound and activity of the banquet. Cautiously,
Kahlan pulled back the door. Richard sat on the floor in front of the fire, his sword, in its scabbard,
lay at his side. He didn't turn at the sound.
The door squeaked closed behind her as she kneeled down, sitting back on' her heels next to him,
her heart pounding.
"That she made a mistake," she said softly, picking at a string on her pants. "And that she is sorry.
Very, very sorry. Not just for what she did, but mostly for not trusting you."
"I had a whole speech rehearsed in my mind. But now I can't remember a word of it. You have that
effect on me." He smiled again. "Apology accepted."
His grin widened. "It seemed so at the time, but now I don't think so."
Unclasping his hands, he touched it with his fingers. "What's this for?" "It is a gift from the Bird
Man, with his apology for what he tried to make you do. He said he, too, had no right, and wishes
to thank you, with this gift, for opening his heart's eyes. Tomorrow he will teach you to use it."
Kahlan turned to sit with her back to the fire, facing him, close against him. It was a warm night,
and with the heat of the fire, Richard glistened with sweat. The symbols painted across his chest
and around his upper arms gave him a wild, savage appearance. "You have a way of opening
people's eyes," she said in a coy voice. "I think you must have used magic."
The sound of his voice resonated with something deep inside her, made her feel weak. "And Adie
said you have the magic of the tongue," she whispered.
Her gaze wandered from his eyes, feasting on other places on his face: the shape of his nose, the
angle of his cheeks, the line of his chin. Her eyes stopped on his lips. Suddenly she was aware of
how hot it was in the spirit house. She felt lightheaded.
And why not? Was she to die in this quest without being allowed to be a woman? Must she be only
a warrior? Fight for everyone's happiness but her own? Seekers, in the best of times, died all too
quickly, and these were not the best of times.
She ached at the thought of him dying.
It would be for different reasons, but he would be just as deadly, maybe more so. He would be
different, though, not the same person he was now. That person would be gone forever.
Teasingly, she took the apple from his mouth. Juice ran down his chin. Slowly, deliberately, she
leaned over and licked the sweet juice from his chin. He didn't move. Their faces were inches apart;
she shared his breath, quick and warm. So close was she that her eyes could scarcely focus on his.
She had to swallow the wetness in her mouth.
She released the apple, brought her wet fingers to his lips, and watched, her own tongue on her
upper lip, as he let each finger slide into his mouth, slowly sucking the juice from them one at a
time as she offered them. The feeling of the inside of his mouth, wet and warm, sent shivers
through her.
Coming to her knees above him, she circled a fingertip around the hardness of one of his nipples,
firmly caressed his chest as she let her eyes slide closed for a moment while gritting her teeth.
Gently, but forcefully, she pushed him down on his back. He went easily, without protest. She
leaned over him with her hand still on his chest for support. The feeling of him surprised her, the
rigid hardness of his muscles, sheathed with yielding, velvety soft skin, the wetness of his sweat,
the coarseness of his hairs, the heat. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, with the life in
him.
Between her knees, the muscles of his thigh flexed, sending her pulse racing even faster. She had to
open her mouth to get her breath. She lost herself in his eyes, eyes that felt as if they were probing
her soul, stripping it bare. They sent fire raging through her.
She put her hand behind his strong neck, still holding herself up, away from him, with the other on
his chest. Her fingers slid into his damp hair, tightened into a fist, held his head to the ground.
She drew her knee up his leg until it wouldn't go any father. Little sounds escaped with some of her
breaths. His chest heaved against her hand. As he lay under her, she thought he had never seemed
so big to her before.
Her head lowered. Her lips brushed against his.
The words cut through her, bringing her eyes open wide. Her head moved back a little. But she was
touching him; he could not stop her, she thought. she didn't want him to stop her. She barely had a
grasp on the power as it was, and it was slipping from her hold. She could feel it. She brought her
lips back to his, another small sound escaping with her breath.
"Kahlan, I mean it. Only if you tell me first."
She sat back on her heels, taking her hand from his chest, putting it over her mouth. The world
crashed in around her. How could she tell him'? He would hate her; she would lose him. Her head
spun sickeningly.
Her eyebrows wrinkled together as she tried to keep from crying. "Please." She could hardly get the
words out. "Just hold me?"
"That's what friends are for," he whispered in her ear.
"I promise, Richard, I will tell you. But not tonight? Tonight, just hold me. Please?"
"When you want to. Not before," he promised.
Seemingly from nowhere, starlings, sparrows, and small field birds, thousands of them, descended,
diving and swooping, on the small company. The. hunters ducked, laughing, as they had all day,
The air was filled with small birds flying wildly about in a frenzy. The sky was black with them.
The hunters fell to the ground, covering their heads, laughing hysterically. Richard rolled his eyes.
Kahlan turned her face from him as she laughed. The Bird Man frantically put his own whistle to
his lips and blew over and over again, his silver hair flying, trying desperately to send the birds
back. At last they heeded his calls and vanished once more. Quiet returned to the grassland except,
of course, for the hunters, who still rolled on the ground in laughter.
"But I was thinking `hawk,' I really was. Every kind of bird you named, I thought it hard as I could,
honest."
"It is no use. The day ends, the gathering will be soon. " He put his arm around the shoulders of a
frustrated Seeker. "Keep the gift of the whistle anyway. Though it will never aid you, let it serve as
a reminder that while you may be better at some things than most people, in this, even a child is
better than you. "
Richard leaned toward her. "I was trying my best. Really. I don't understand it."
Though the light was fading, the cloudy day had been the brightest in longer than she could
remember, and it had helped to lift her spirits. Mostly, though, what helped her was the way
Richard had treated her. He had let her have time to recover from last night without asking her
anything. He had just held her, let her be.
When she woke this morning, she didn't know how he. would feel about her, if he would be hurt,
angry, or hate her. Even though she lay bare-chested against him all night, she turned her back to
him in embarrassment while she buttoned her shirt. As her fingers slipped the buttons back in place,
she told him that no one had ever had a friend as patient as the one she had. She said she only
hoped that someday she could prove to be as good a friend as he was.
She turned, and resisting mightily the urge to kiss him, thanked him for putting up with her.
That made her laugh, partly in embarrassment, and they both laughed together a long time.
Somehow, it made her feel better, and took away what could have been a thorn.
"Richard, what is it?"
She turned to the west. "All I see are clouds."
"Do you think it means something?"
They started walking again, the eerie sounds of the boldas carrying to them across the windswept,
flat grasslands. By the time they reached the village, it was dark. The banquet was still going on, as
it had all last night, as it would tonight, until the gathering was over. Everyone was still going
strong, except the children; many of whom walked around in a sleepy stupor or slept contentedly in
corners here and there.
Their ancestors' spirits were with them.
"It is time, " he told her. "Richard and I must go now. "
"You cannot."
"Because a gathering is only men. "
The Bird Man's eyes shifted about in an uncomfortable manner. "But a gathering is only men, " he
repeated, seemingly unable to come up with a better reason.
Richard looked from her face to the Bird Man's and back again, knowing by the tone of her voice
that something was going on, but deciding not to interfere. The Bird Man leaned a little closer to
her and lowered his voice.
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to tell me that you can't wear clothes?"
"Fine, " she said, holding her head up.. "I have no objections. "
She held his eyes for a long time, then turned to Richard. "I need to explain something to you.
When a person calls a gathering, they are sometimes asked questions by the spirits, through the
elders, to be sure they are acting of noble intent. If you answer a question in a way that a spirit
ancestor finds dishonorable or untruthful . . . they may kill you. Not the elders, the spirits."
"No, you won't. If you want a gathering, you must do as the elders do, face the spirits with nothing
but yourself. You can wear no sword, no clothes, and you must have mud painted on you." She
took a breath, pushed some hair back over her shoulder. "If I am not there to translate, you may get
killed simply because you cannot answer a question you don't understand. Then Rahl wins. I must
be there to interpret. But if I'm there, I, too, can wear no clothes. The Bird Man is in a fret, and
wishes to know what you think of this. He is hoping you will forbid me from doing this."
The corners of his mouth turned up, and his eyes sparkled. Kahlan had to bite her lower lip to keep
from laughing. The Bird Man looked from one to the other, confused.
Richard's face regained its seriousness as he turned to the Bird Man. "I called the gathering. I need
Kahlan there."
Kahlan and Richard walked side, by side, following the Bird Man's silhouette as he led them off
through the dark passageways of the village, turning to the right several times, then the other way.
Richard's hand found hers. Kahlan was a lot more nervous about this than she let on, about sitting
naked with eight naked men. But she was not about to let Richard go into the gathering without her.
This was no time to let it all slip away from them: they had worked too hard; time was too short.
Before they reached the spirit house, the Bird Man took them through a narrow doorway, into a
small room in a building nearby. The other elders were there, sitting cross-legged on the floor,
staring blankly ahead. She smiled at Savidlin, but he didn't respond. The Bird Man picked up a
small bench and two clay pots
As the Bird Man took his bench and pots with him, squeezing sideways out the door, Kahlan told
Richard what he had said. In a while he called Caldus's name, and after a time, each of the other
elders in turn, Savidlin last. Savidlin did not speak to them or even acknowledge that he knew they
were there. The spirits were in his eves.
Richard would be unarmed, without his sword, his protection. But she would not be without her
power. She would be his protection. Though she had not spoken it, that was the other reason she
had to be in there. If anything went wrong, it was going to be she who died, not him, that much she
knew. She would see to it. She steeled herself, went into herself. She heard the Bird Man call out
Richard's name. He rose to his feet.
She nodded. "Just remember, Richard, these are our people now, we belong. They want to help us;
they will be doing their best."
"Remove your clothes, " the Bird Man said.
"He is here to take the clothes. They are taken to the elders' platform, for the people to see that we
are in a gathering. Before dawn, he will return them, to let the people know that the gathering is at
an end. "
The Bird Man gave the order. The hunter turned around. She gripped the tongue of her belt, yanked
it free from the catch. She paused, looking down at the Bird Man.
She nodded, removed her clothes, and stood before him, the cold night air on her naked flesh. He
scooped a handful of white mud from one of the pots. His hands paused before her. She waited. He
was clearly skittish about doing this, despite what he said. Seeing was one thing, touching quite
another.
"Do it," she ordered.
"From now, until we are finished, near dawn, no one may go out, no one may come in. The door is
barred by the spirits. "
"Why do we do this?"
"Honored elder; 1 may be one of the Mud People, but 1 am also a Confessor. I must always hold
back my power. If I forget this world, I may not be able to do that. "
She stared wide-eyed into his grim face, then reached into the basket. The frog wriggled and kicked
in her hand as she passed the basket to Richard, telling him what to do. Swallowing hard, she
pushed the cold slimy back of the frog against her chest, between her breasts, to the one place on
her where there were no symbols painted, pushed it around in circles as the others had done. Where
the slime touched her skin, it felt tingly, tight. The feeling spread through her. The sounds of the
drums and the boldas grew in her ears until it seemed as if the sound was the only thing in the
world. Her body vibrated with the beat. In her mind, she took hold of her power, held it tightly,
concentrated on her control of it; then, hoping it was enough, she felt herself drift away.
All around, shapes closed in. In terror, she recognized what they were.
Unable to get a scream out, her breath caught in her throat, she squeezed Richard's hand. She had to
protect him. She tried to get up, to throw herself over him so they couldn't touch him. But her body
wouldn't move. She realized with horror that it was because hands, hands of the shadow things,
were on her. She struggled, struggled to get up, to protect Richard. Her mind raced with panic. Had
they already killed her? Was she dead? Was she no more than a spirit now? Unable to move? The
shadow things stared down at her. Shadow things didn't have faces. These did. Mud People faces.
"Who calls this gathering?"
"Who calls this gathering?" they repeated.
They floated between the elders, gathering into the center of the circle.
Kahlan and Savidlin let go of Richard's hands. The spirits spun in the center of the circle; then, in a
rush, they came out in a line, passing through Richard's body.
Kahlan jumped. The spirits all hovered behind him. The elders all closed their eyes.
His head came back down. "It's all right. I'm all right," he managed in a hoarse voice, but he was
clearly still in pain.
"Why have you called us?" the Bird Man asked, in their hollow, harmonic voices.
Richard took a few deep breaths, recovering from what they had done to him.
"How many men have you killed?" Savidlin asked with spirit voices.
"Why?" Hajanlet asked in their haunting tones.
"Both?"
' "Do you think the defense of a friend gives you the right to kill?" Arbrin's mouth moved this time.
"Suppose he was going to kill your friend only to defend the life of his friend?"
"The point is, according to what you believe, that you think it is justified to kill in the defense of a
friend, then if he was killing to defend a friend, he had the right to kill your friend. He was justified.
Since he was justified, that would void your right, would it not?"
"Maybe not all questions have answers you like. "
Kahlan could tell by his tone that Richard was getting angry. All the eyes of the elders, the spirits,
were on him.