5 Soul of the Fire

by Goodkind, Terry

  Zedd's sticklike fingers tightened on her arm. Richard wasn't the only one with a bone between his teeth.

  Kahlan heaved a sigh and told him. "I suspect that Richard believes there is a chicken monster on the loose."

  Kahlan had covered her nose and mouth against the stench, but dropped her hands to her sides when the two women looked up from their work. Both smiled to the small troop shuffling in the door, shaking off water, looking like they'd fallen in a river.

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  The two women were working on Juni's body, decorating it with black-and-white mud designs. They had already woven decorative grass bands around his wrists and ankles and had fixed a leather fillet around his head with grass positioned under it in the manner of hunters going out on a hunt.

  Juni was laid out on a mud-brick platform, one of four such raised work areas. Dark stains drooled down the sides of each. A layer of fetid straw covered the floor. When a body was brought in, the straw was kicked up against the base of the platform to absorb draining fluids.

  The straw was alive with vermin. When there were no bodies, the door was left open so the chickens could feast on the bugs and keep them down.

  Off to the right of the door was the only window. When no one was attending a body, supple deerskin shut out light so the deceased might have peace. The women had pulled the deerskin to the side and hooked it behind a peg in the wall to let the gloomy light seep into the cramped room.

  Bodies were not prepared at night, so as not to strain the peace of the soul going over to the other side. Reverence for the departing soul was fundamental to the Mud People; these new spirits might someday be called upon to help their people still living.

  Both women were older and smiling as if their sunny nature could not be masked with a somber facade even for such grim work. Kahlan assumed them to be specialists in the task of insuring that the dead were properly adorned before they were laid in the ground.

  Kahlan could see the fragrant oils that were rubbed over the body still glistening where the mud was yet to be applied. The oils failed to shroud the gagging stink of the tainted straw and platforms. She didn't understand why the straw wasn't changed more often. But then, for all she knew, perhaps it was; there was no escaping the consequence of the process of death and decay.

  Probably for that reason the dead were buried quickly- either the day they died or at the latest the next. Juni would

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  not be made to wait long before he was put in the ground. Then his spirit, seeing that all was as it should be, could turn to those of his kind in the spirit world.

  Kahlan bent close to the two women. Out of reverence for the dead, she whispered. "Zedd and Ann, here"-she lifted a hand, indicating the two-"would like to look at Juni."

  The women bowed from the waist and stepped back, with a finger hooking their pots of black and white mud off the platform and out of the way. Richard watched as his grandfather and Ann put their hands lightly to Juni, inspecting him, no doubt with magic. While Zedd and Ann conferred in hushed tones as they conducted their examination, Kahlan turned to the-two women and told them what a fine job they were doing, and how sorry she was about the young hunter's death.

  Having had enough of looking at his dead guardian, Richard joined her. He slipped an arm around her waist and asked her to relate his sentiments. Kahlan added his words to hers.

  It wasn't long before Zedd and Ann nudged Richard and Kahlan to the side. Smiling, they gestured the women back to their chore.

  "As you suspected," Zedd whispered, "his neck is not broken. I could find no injury to his head. I'd say he drowned."

  "And how do you suppose that could have happened?" A scintilla of sarcasm laced Richard's voice.

  Zedd squeezed Richard's shoulder. "You were sick once, and you passed out. Remember? There was nothing sinister to it. Did you crack your skull? No. You slumped to the floor, where I found you. Remember? It could be something as simple as that."

  "But Juni showed no signs-"

  Everyone turned as the old healer, Nissel, shambled in the door cradling a small bundle in her arms. She paused for an instant at seeing everyone in the small room, before she turned to another of the platforms for the dead. She laid

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  the bundle tenderly on the cold brick. Kahlan put a hand over her heart as she saw Nissel unwrap a newborn baby.

  "What happened?" Kahlan asked,

  "Not the joyous event I expected it would be." Nissel's sorrowful eyes met Kahlan's gaze. "The child was born dead."

  "Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered, "I'm so sorry."

  Richard brushed a shiny green bug off Kahlan's shoulder. "What happened to the baby?"

  Nissel shrugged when Kahlan spoke his question. "I have watched the mother for months. Everything had seemed to point to a joyous event. I foresaw no problem, but the child was stillborn." -

  "How is the mother?"

  Nissel's gaze sank to the floor. "For now she weeps her heart out, but the mother will soon be well." She forced a smile. "It happens. Not all children are strong enough to live. The woman will have others."

  Richard leaned close after the exchange appeared to be finished. "What did she say?"

  Kahlan stamped twice to dislodge a centipede wriggling up her leg. "The baby just wasn't strong enough, and was stillborn."

  Frowning, he looked over at the heartbreaking death. "Wasn't strong enough ..."

  Kahlan watched him stare at the small form, still, bloodless, unreal-looking. A new child was a uniquely beautiful entity, but this, lacking the soul its mother had given it so that it might stay in this world, was naked ugliness.

  Kahlan asked when Juni would be buried. One of the two women glanced at the small death. "We will need to prepare another. Tomorrow, they will both be put to their eternal rest."

  As they went out the door, Richard turned and looked up into the waterfall of rain. A chicken perched in the low eaves overhead fluffed its feathers. Richard's gaze lingered a moment.

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  The reasoning that had been so clearly evident on his face turned to resolution.

  Richard peered up the passageway. He whistled as he beckoned with an arm. Their guardian hunters started toward them.

  As the hunters were jogging to a halt, Richard grasped Kahlan's upper arm in his big hand. "Tell them I want them to go get more men. I want them to gather up all the chickens-"

  "What!" Kahlan wrenched her arm from his grip. "Richard, I'm not going to ask them that. They'll think you've gone crazy!"

  Zedd stuck his head between them. "What's going on?"

  "He wants the men to gather up all the chickens just because one of them is perched above the door."

  "It wasn't there when we arrived. I looked."

  Zedd turned and squinted up in the rain. "What chicken?"

  Kahlan and Richard both looked for themselves. The chicken was gone.

  "It probably went searching for a drier roost," Kahlan growled. "Or one more peaceful."

  Zedd wiped rain from his eyes. "Richard, I want to know what this is about."

  "A chicken was killed outside the spirit house. Juni spat at the honor of whatever killed that chicken. Not long after, Juni died. I threw a stick at the chicken in the window, and not long after, it attacked that little boy. It was my fault Ungi got clawed. I don't want to make the same mistake again."

  Zedd, to Kahlan's surprise, spoke calmly. "Richard, you're bridging some yawning chasms with gossamer reasoning."

  "The Bird Man said one of the chickens wasn't a chicken."

  Zedd frowned. "Really?"

  "He'd been drinking," Kahlan pointed out.

  "Zedd, you named me the Seeker. If you wish to recon-

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  sider your choice, then do it now. If not, then let me do my job. If I'm wrong you can all lecture me later."

  Richard took Zedd's silence for acquiescence and again grasped Kahlan's arm, if a little more gently than the first time. Conviction ignited his gray eyes
.

  "Please, Kahlan, do as I ask. If I'm wrong, I'll look a fool, but I'd rather look a fool than be right and fail to act."

  Whatever had killed the chicken had done it right outside the spirit house, where she had been. That was the skein from which Richard had woven this tapestry of threat. Kahlan believed in Richard, but suspected he was merely getting carried away with concern over protecting her.

  "What is it you would have me say to the men?"

  "I want the men to gather up the Chickens. Take them to the buildings they keep empty for the evil spirits. I want every last chicken herded in there. Then, we can have the Bird Man look at them and tell us which one is not a chicken.

  "I want the men to be gentle and courteous as they gather the chickens. Under no circumstances do I want anyone to show disrespect to any of the chickens."

  "Disrespect," Kahlan repeated. 'To a chicken."

  "That's right." Richard checked the waiting hunters before locking his gaze on her. "Tell the men I fear one of the chickens is possessed by the evil spirit that killed Juni."

  Kahlan didn't, know if that was What Richard believed, but she knew without doubt that the Mud People would believe it.

  She looked to Zedd's eyes for counsel, but found none. Ann's visage had no more to offer. Cara was sworn to Richard; although she routinely disregarded orders she thought trifling, were Richard to insist, she would walk off a cliff for him.

  Richard would not give up. If Kahlan didn't translate for him, he would go find Chandalen to do it. Failing that, he would gather up the chickens by himself, if necessary.

  The only thing to be accomplished by not doing as he

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  asked would be to display a lack of faith in him. That alone persuaded her.

  Shivering in the icy rain, Kahlan took in Richard's resolute gray eyes one last time before she turned to the waiting hunters.

  CHAPTER 8

  "HAVE YOU FOUND THE evil spirit, yet?"

  Kahlan looked back over her shoulder to see that it was Chandalen, carefully shuffling his way through the squawking throng of chickens. The muted light helped calm the flock in their confinement, if they did still raise quite the clamor. There were a few Reds and a sprinkling of other types, but most of the Mud People's chickens were the striated Barred Rocks, a breed more docile than most. It was a good thing, too, or the simple pandemonium would be feathered chaos.

  Kahlan nearly rolled her eyes to hear Chandalen muttering ludicrous apologies to the birds he urged out of his way with a foot. She might have quipped about his risible behavior were it not for the disquieting way he was dressed, with a long knife at his left hip, a short knife at the right, a full quiver over one shoulder, and a strung bow over the other.

  More troubling, a coiled troga hung from a hook at his

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  belt. A troga was a simple wire long enough to loop and drop over a man's head. It was applied from behind, and then the wooden handles yanked apart. A man of Chandalen's skill could easily and accurately place his troga at the joints in a man's neck and silence him before he could make a sound.

  When they had fought together against the Imperial Order army that had attacked the city of Ebinissia and butchered the innocent women and children there, Kahlan had more than once seen Chandalen decapitate enemy sentries and soldiers with his troga. He wouldn't be carrying his troga to battle evil-spirit-chicken-monsters.

  His fist held five spears. She guessed the razor-sharp spear points, with then- gummy, dark varnished look, were freshly coated with poison. Once so charged, they had to be handled with care.

  In the buckskin pouch at his waist, he carried a carved bone box filled with dark paste made by chewing and then cooking bandu leaves to render it into ten-step poison. He also carried a few leaves of quassin doe, the antidote for ten-step poison, but as the poison's name implied, haste with the quassin doe was essential.

  "No," Kahlan said, "the Bird Man has not yet found the chicken that is not a chicken. Why are you painted with mud, and so heavily armed? What's going on?"

  Chandalen lifted a foot over a chicken that didn't seem to want to move. "My men, the ones on far patrol, have some trouble. I must go see to it."

  "Trouble?" Kahlan's arms unfolded. "What sort of trouble?"

  Chandalen shrugged. "I am not sure. The man who came for me said there are men with swords-"

  "The Order? From the battle fought to the north? It could be some stragglers who got away, or combat scouts. Maybe we can get word to General Reibisch. His army might still be within striking distance, if we can get them to turn back in time."

  Chandalen lifted a hand to allay the alarm in her voice.

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  "No. You and I together fought the men of the Imperial Order. These are not Order troops, or scouts.

  "My man does not think they are hostile, but they are reported to be heavily armed and they had a calm about them when approached, which says much. Since I can speak your language, as they do, my men would like my direction with such dangerous-looking people."

  Kahlan began to lift her arm to get Richard's attention. "Richard and I had better go with you."

  "No. Many people wish to travel our land. We often meet strangers out on the plains. This is my duty. I will take care of it and keep them away from the village. Besides, you two should stay and enjoy your first day as a newly wedded couple."

  Without comment, Kahlan glowered at Richard, who was still sorting through the chickens.

  Chandalen leaned past her and spoke to the Bird Man, standing a few steps away. "Honored elder, I must go see to my men. Outsiders approach."

  The Bird Man looked over at the man who was, in effect, his general charged with the defense of the Mud People. "Be careful. There are wicked spirits about."

  Chandalen nodded. Before he turned away, Kahlan caught his arm. "I don't know about evil spirits, but there are other dangers about. Be careful? Richard is concerned about trouble. If I don't understand his reasons, I trust his instincts."

  "You and I have fought together, Mother Confessor." Chandalen winked. "You know I am too strong and too smart for trouble to catch me."

  As she watched Chandalen work his way through the milling mass of the chickens, Kahlan asked the Bird Man, "Have you seen anything ... suspicious?"

  "I do not yet see the chicken that is not a chicken," the Bird Man said, "but I will keep looking until I find it."

  Kahlan tried to think of a polite way to ask if he was sober. She decided to ask another question, instead. "How can you tell the chicken is not a chicken?"

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  His sun-browned face creased with thought. "It is something I can sense."

  She decided there was no avoiding it. "Perhaps, since you were celebrating with drink, you only thought you sensed something?"

  The creases in his face bent with a smile. "Perhaps the drink relaxed me so that I could see more clearly."

  "And are you still... relaxed?"

  He folded his arms as he watched the teeming flock.

  "I know what I saw."

  "How could you tell it was not a chicken?"

  He stroked a finger down his nose as he considered her question. Kahlan waited, watching Richard urgently searching through the chickens as if looking for a lost pet.

  "At celebrations, such as your wedding," the Bird Man said after a time, "our men act out stories of our people. Women do not dance the stories, only men. But many stories have women in them. You have seen these stories?"

  "Yes. I watched yesterday as the dancers told the story of the first Mud People: our ancestor mother and father."

  He smiled, as if the mention of that particular story touched his heart. It was a smile of private pride in his people.

  "If you had arrived during that dance, and did not know anything of our people, would you have known the dancer dressed as the mother of our people was not a woman?"

  Kahlan thought it over. The Mud People made elaborate costumes expressly for the dances;
they were brought out for no other reason. For Mud People, seeing dancers in the special costumes was awe-inspiring. The men who dressed as women in the stories went to great lengths to make themselves look the part.

  "I am not certain, but I think I would recognize they were not women."

  "How? What would give them away to you? Are you sure?"