At the touch of her hand, his head instantly snapped up and the sword whipped around toward her, stopping in front of her face. Kahlan jumped with surprise. Fury lit Richard’s wide eyes.
“Richard,” she said, startled, “it’s just me. It’s over. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He let his muscles go limp, let himself fall over onto his side in the mud.
“Sorry,” he managed, still trying to catch his breath. “When your hand touched me… I guess I thought it was a shadow.”
Legs were suddenly all about them. She peered up. The Bird Man was there, as were Savidlin and Weselan. Weselan was sobbing loudly. Kahlan stood and handed her her son. Weselan passed the boy to her husband and threw her arms around Kahlan, kissing her face all over.
“Thank you, Mother Confessor, thank you for saving my boy,” she bawled. “Thank you, Kahlan, thank you.”
“I know, I know.” Kahlan hugged her back. “It’s all right now.”
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.
She put her face against her knees and, losing control, started crying. Not because she had killed Toffalar, but because she had hesitated. It had almost cost her her life; almost cost Richard and Siddin—everyone—their lives. She had almost given victory to Rahl because she hadn’t wanted Richard to see what she was going to do, and had hesitated. It was the stupidest thing she had ever done, other than not telling Richard she was a Confessor. Tears of frustration poured out as she cried in choking sobs.
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.
“Well done, Mother Confessor,” he said as he took a strip of cloth from one of his men and started wrapping it around her wounded arm.
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.”
She stood numbly as he tightened the bandage, sending flames of pain through the deep cut. He looked down at Richard, who seemed content to lie there on his back in the mud, as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.
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.”
“What’d he say?” Richard asked.
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.”
The Bird Man nodded his agreement. “And now we have business.”
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.
“Bury the body.” His eyes narrowed. “All of it.”
The men looked at each other, unsure. “Elder, you mean all of it except the skull?”
“I said what I meant. All of it! We only keep the skulls of honored elders, to remind us of their wisdom. We do not keep the skulls of fools.”
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.
“We are short an elder,” the Bird Man announced. He turned, looking slowly to the eyes around him, then made his back straight and shoved the coyote hide against Savidlin’s chest. “I choose you.”
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.
“Do you have anything to say to our people, as their newest elder?” It was not a question, it was a command.
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.
“Most honored among us,” he addressed the Bird Man, “these two people have acted selflessly in the defense of our people. In my life, I have never witnessed anything to compare with it. They could have left us to fend for ourselves when we foolishly turned our backs on them. Instead, they have shown us what manner of people they be. They are as fine as the best of us.” Almost everyone in the crowd was nodding agreement. “I demand that you name them Mud People.”
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?”
Savidlin strode to the archers and snatched a bow from the hands of one. He smoothly nocked an arrow while he kept his squinted eyes on the elders. He put tension to the string, locking the arrow in place with the bow hand, then stepped in front of the five. “Make the demand. Or we will have new elders who will.”
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.
“Please, Savidlin, allow us to speak from our hearts, not from the point of an arrow.”
“Speak then.”
Caldus walked to Richard, stopping in front of him, looking him in the eye.
“The hardest thing for a man to do, especially an old man,” he said in a soft voice, waiting for Kahlan to translate, “is to admit he has acted foolishly, and selfishly. You have acted neither foolishly nor selfishly. The two of you are better examples of Mud People for our children than I. I demand of the Bird Man that you be named Mud People. Please, Richard With The Temper, and Mother Confessor, our people need you.” He held his palms out in an open gesture. “If you deem me unworthy of making this demand upon your behalf, please strike me down that one better than I might make the demand.”
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.
Richard stood over the five men with his arms folded, looking down at the tops of their heads, saying nothing. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t telling them it was all right, and to get to their feet. No one moved. What was he doing? What was he waiting for? It was over. Why wasn’t he acknowledging their contrition?
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 just thinking. He was thinking of killing.
Richard’s arms unfolded; his hand went to the hilt. The sword slid out as slowly, smoothly, as it had slid away for them the last time. The high-pitched sound of steel announced the blade’s arrival in the silent air, sending a painful shiver through her shoulders and up the back of her neck. She could see Richard’s chest begi
nning to heave.
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.
Even so, their law was irrelevant; the Seeker was a law unto himself, answering ultimately to no one but himself. There was no one present who could stop this.
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.
Kahlan thought of all those she knew who had already died, both the innocent and those who had given their lives trying to stop Darken Rahl. Dennee, all the other Confessors, the wizards, Shar the night wisp, perhaps Zedd and Chase.
She understood.
Richard was not deciding if he should kill them, but if he dared let them live.
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?
If he couldn’t trust these men to send him in the right direction against Rahl, he would have to kill them and have ones he thought would be on his side. Stopping Rahl was all that mattered. The lives of these men must be forfeited if there was a chance they would jeopardize success. Kahlan knew that what Richard was doing was right. It was no less than she herself would do, no less than what the Seeker must do.
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.
Kahlan understood why a Seeker was so feared. This was no game; he meant this. He was lost within himself, within the magic. If anyone were to try to stop him right now, he would kill them, too. If, that was, they got past her.
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.
Kahlan remembered the man Richard had killed, remembered the way the sword had exploded through the man’s head. The blood everywhere. Richard had killed him because of a direct threat. Kill or be killed, no matter that the threat was to her and not him.
But this was an indirect threat, a different kind of killing. Very different. This was an execution. And Richard was both judge and executioner.
The sword lowered again. Richard glowered at the elders, then made a fist and pulled the blade in a slow sweep across the inside of his left forearm. He turned the blade, wiping both sides in the blood, until it ran down, dripping off the tip.
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.
Every eye followed as Richard brought the sword up again, touching it to his forehead.
“Blade, be true this day,” he whispered.
His left hand glistened with blood. She could see him shaking with need. The sword flashed in places between the red. He looked down at the men.
“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.
“Richard,” she said. His eyes came angrily to hers. Eyes looking at her from a different world. The magic danced in them. She kept her voice even, showed no emotion. “He cannot understand you.”
“Then you tell him!”
“Caldus.” He looked to her blank face. “The Seeker wishes you to look into his eyes while he does this.”
He didn’t answer, but simply looked at Richard, held by the Seeker’s glare.
Richard inhaled sharply as the sword rose swiftly into the air. She watched the tip as it paused for only an instant. Some people turned away; others shielded their children’s eyes. Kahlan held her breath and half turned to brace for an aftermath of fragments.
The Seeker screamed as he brought down the Sword of Truth. Its tip whistled through the air. The crowd gasped.
The sword stopped dead in the air, a scant inch from Caldus’s face, just as it had stopped the first time Richard had used it, when Zedd had him try to cut down the tree.
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.
His eyes unmoving, he asked Kahlan, “How do you say ‘I return your lives and your honor to you’ in their language?”
She answered quietly.
“Caldus, Surin, Arbrin, Breginderin, Hajanlet,” he announced loud enough for all to hear, “I return your lives and your honor to you.”
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.
“We make a unanimous demand of you, most honored elder. What have you to say?”
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.
“Richard,” she asked in a low voice, “did you expect the sword to stop?”
He looked ahead as he walked, letting out a deep breath. “No.”
She had thought as much. She tried to imagine what this was doing to him. Even if he hadn’t executed the elders, he had committed to it, expected it. Though he didn’t have to live with the deed, he still had to live with the intent.
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.
“How’s the arm?” he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“It throbs like mad,” she admitted. “The Bird Man says it must be stitched together.”
Richard looked deliberately ahead as he walked next to her. “I need my guide,” he said quietly, without emotion. “You gave me a fright.”
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 little group stepped onto the platform of the pole building. The elders stood in the back, the Bird Man between the two of them as they faced the crowd.
The Bird Man regarded her with an intense expression. “Are you prepared to do this?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, suspicious of his tone.
“I mean th
at 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.”
“I alone know what we are up against. I expect to die in the quest.” She kept her tone deliberately hard. “I have already escaped death more times than anyone has a right to. What we want is to save your people. We are sworn on our lives to do so. What more could be asked of us than our lives?”
The Bird Man knew she was avoiding the question and didn’t let her get away with it. “This is not something I do lightly. I do it because I know you are true in your struggle, that you mean to shield my people from the storm that comes. But I 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.”
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow. “I do not eat meat,” she lied. “You know that from when I have been here before.”
“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.”
“But…”
“You have said you will not choose him as your mate. If he will call a gathering, it must be as one of us.”
Kahlan felt trapped. If she turned him down now, Richard would be furious, for good reason. They would lose to Rahl. Being from Westland, Richard was not used to the ways of the different peoples of the Midlands. He might not willingly go along. She couldn’t take the chance. Much was at stake. The Bird Man’s eyes waited.
“We will do what your law requires,” she said, trying not to show what she really thought.
“Don’t you wish to consult the Seeker on his feelings about these things?”
She looked away, over the heads of the waiting crowd. “No.”
He took her chin in his hand and turned her face back to his. “Then it will be your responsibility to see to it that he does as required. By your word.”
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