Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  The crowd buzzed with talk, heads nodding, all agreeing the Bird Man was wise. Kahlan let out a sigh—the Bird Man had given himself, and the two of them, a sliver of room if things went wrong. He was indeed wise. He gave her shoulder another squeeze, and she placed her hand over his, giving her own appreciative squeeze.

  Richard didn’t waste a second. He turned to the elders.

  “I am honored to be one of the Mud People. Wherever I may travel, I will uphold the honor of our people, to make you proud of me. Right now, there is danger to our people. I need help so I might protect them. I request a council of seers. I request a gathering.”

  Kahlan translated, and each elder in turn nodded his agreement.

  “Granted,” the Bird Man said. “It will take three days to prepare for the gathering.”

  “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.”

  The Bird Man took a deep breath, his long silver hair reflecting the gloomy light. “In this special circumstance, we will do our best to help you. Tonight we will hold the banquet, tomorrow night we will hold the gathering. This is as fast as it can be done. There are preparations that must be made for the elders to bridge the gap to the spirits.”

  Richard, too, took a deep breath. “Tomorrow night then.”

  The bird man blew the whistle again and the doves took to the air. Kahlan felt as if her hopes, impossible and foolish as they had been, took wing with them.

  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.

  Blood had completely soaked the bandage, and the cut hurt in earnest. He guided her through narrow passageways with his arm protectively around her shoulders. She was thankful he didn’t speak of the banquet.

  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.

  The bath did more for her than the leaves. She couldn’t remember a bath feeling so good. She tried to let her depressing thoughts slough away with the mud. She tried very hard. While she was left to soak, Nissel washed her clothes and hung them by the fire, where a little pot of brown paste bubbled, smelling of pine pitch. Nissel dried her off, wrapped her in warm skins, and sat her on a bench built into the wall near the raised fire pit. The taste of the leaves seemed to get better the more she chewed them, but her head was beginning to spin.

  “Nissel, what are the leaves for?”

  Nissel turned from studying Kahlan’s shirt, which she thought very curious. “It will make you relax, so you will not feel what I do. Keep chewing. Do not worry, child. You will be so relaxed, you will not care when I stitch.”

  Kahlan immediately spit out the leaves. The old woman looked at them on the floor, lifting an eyebrow to Kahlan.

  “Nissel, I am a Confessor. If I am relaxed in a manner like that, I might not be able to hold back the power. When you touch me, I could release it without wanting to.”

  Nissel frowned with curiosity. “But you sleep, child. You relax then.”

  “That is different. I have slept from birth, before my power grew in me. If I were to be too relaxed or distracted in a way I do not know, as with your leaves, I could touch you without intending it.”

  Nissel gave a crooked nod. Then her eyebrows came up. She leaned closer. “Then how do you . . .”

  Kahlan gave a blank expression that said nothing and everything.

  A look of sudden understanding came over Nissel’s face. The healer straightened up. “Oh, I see now.”

  She stroked Kahlan’s hair sympathetically, then went to the far corner and came shuffling back with a piece of leather. “Put this between your teeth.” She patted Kahlan’s good shoulder. “If you are ever hurt again, be sure to have them bring you to Nissel. I will remember, and know what not to do. Sometimes, when you are a healer, it is more important to know what not to do. Maybe when you are a Confessor too. Hmm?” Kahlan smiled and gave a nod. “Now—child, make teeth marks in this leather for me.”

  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.

  “You should sleep for a while. I will wake you before the banquet.”

  Kahlan put her hand on the old woman’s arm, and made herself smile. “Thank you, Nissel.”

  She woke to the feel of her hair being brushed. It had dried while she slept. Nissel smiled at her.

  “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.”

  Kahlan sat up. “How long has he been out there?”

  “Almost the whole time. I tried to chase him away with a broom.” Nissel frowned. “But he would not go. He is very stubborn. Yes?”

  “Yes.” Kahlan grinned.

  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.

  “How are you doing? How’s the arm? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled. “Nissel has made me well.”

  Richard kissed the top of the old woman’s head. “Thank you, Nissel. I forgive you the broom.”

  Nissel smiled at the translation, leaned closer, and gave him a deep look he found uncomfortable.

  “Shall I give him a potion,” Nissel asked, turning to her, “to give him stamina?”

  “No,” Kahlan said bristling. “I am sure he will do just fine.”

  Chapter 27

  Laughter and the sound of drums drifted from the center of the village as Richard and Kahlan walked among the huddled, dark buildings. Black skies held back their rain, and the damp, warm air brought in the smell of the wet grasses that surrounded the village. Torches lit the platforms of the pole buildings, and large fires set about the open area snapped and popped, throwing off fluttering shadows. Kahlan knew it was a lot of work to haul in wood for cooking and kiln fires, and most were kept small. This was an extravagance the Mud People rarely witnessed.

  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.

  Cooking went on nonstop as people wandered by, sampling the fare, talking, sharing stories. Most people, it seemed, were either cooking or eating. There were children everywhere, playing and running and laughing, overflowing with excitement at the unexpected nighttime, firelit gathering.

  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 musi
cians 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 and knells. Men in costume, some dressed as animals, others painted as stylized hunters, jumped and danced, acting out stories of 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 as they nuzzled close together. Kahlan had never felt so alone.

  Savidlin, his freshly cleaned coyote hide around his shoulders found her and Richard, and dragged them off, slapping Richard’s back the whole way, to sit with the elders under their shelter. The Bird Man was dressed in his usual, plain buckskin pants and tunic. He was important enough not to have to wear anything more. Weselan was there, as were the wives of the other elders and she came to sit next to Kahlan, taking her hand and asking with sincere concern how her arm was. Kahlan wasn’t used to having people care about her. It felt good to be one of the Mud People, even if it was only pretense. Pretense, because she was a Confessor, and as much as she wished it otherwise right now it was not, and no decree could make it so. She did as she had learned to do at a young age: she put her emotions away, and thought about the job that lay ahead, about Darken Rahl and how little time they had left. And she thought about Dennee.

  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.

  Woven trays and pottery bowls filled with various foods lay on the floor in front of where they sat cross-legged, greeting people, some of whom sat with them for a time. Richard sampled most of the food, remembering to use his right hand. Kahlan nibbled on a piece of tava bread so as not to appear impolite.

  “This is good,” Richard said, taking another rib. “I think it’s pork.’’

  “It is wild boar,” she said, watching the dancers.

  “And the venison, it’s good too. Here, have a piece.” He tried to hand her a strip.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “You all right?”

  “Fine. I’m just not hungry.”

  “You haven’t eaten any meat since we’ve been with the Mud People.”

  “I’m just not hungry, that’s all.”

  He shrugged and ate the venison.

  After a time, the crowd of people greeting them thinned out, finally going off to other activities. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Bird Man raise his hand in a signal to someone in the distance. Kahlan put a brake to her feelings, and made her face betray nothing of the effort, as her mother had taught her: a Confessor’s face.

  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.

  “Why aren’t they leaving?” Richard asked out of the side of his mouth. “What do they want?”

  “They are for you,” she said in an even voice.

  The flickering firelight lit his face as he looked blankly at the four women. “For me. And what am I to do with them?”

  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.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “All four? For me?”

  She turned back to him and saw a mischievous grin spreading on his face. She found his smile irritating.

  “No, you are to pick one.”

  “Pick one?” he repeated, the stupid grin still on his face.

  She consoled herself with the fact that at least he wasn’t going to cause trouble over this part. He looked from one girl to another.

  “Pick one. Now that will be hard. How long do I have to decide?”

  She looked off at the fire again and closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to the Bird Man. “The Seeker wishes to know when he must decide which woman to pick.”

  The Bird Man looked a little surprised by the question. “Before he 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.”

  She told him what the Bird Man said.

  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 Seeker says you are very wise,” she said to him, trying to control her voice.

  The Bird Man and the other elders seemed pleased. Events were going as they wished.

  “Well, this will be a difficult decision. I’ll have to think about it. It’s not something I want to rush into.”

  Kahlan pushed some of her hair back and turned to the girls.

  “The Seeker is having difficulty deciding.”

  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.

  She took another deep breath. “They want to know if you think they are pretty.”

  “Of course! They’re beautiful! All of them. That’s why I can’t decide. Don’t you think they’re beautiful?”

  She didn’t answer his question, instead assuring the four that the Seeker found them appealing. They gave their typical shy laughs. The Bird Man and the elders seemed pleased. They were still all smiles—they were in control of events. She stared numbly at the celebration, watched the dancers without seeing them.

  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.

  After what seemed like hours, an older woman with her head bowed approached carrying a large round woven tray in front of her. It was neatly arranged with dark strips of dried meat.

  Kahlan snapped out of her distant thoughts.

  With her head still bowed, the woman respectfully approached the elders, silently offering each the tray. Then Bird Man took some first, pulling off a piece with his teeth as each of the other elders took a strip. A few of the wives took some as well. Weselan, sitting beside her husband, declined.

  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.

  “You know, I’m having a hard time deciding which one of these fine young women to pick,” Richard said after he swallowed the first bite. “Do you think you could help me, Kahlan? Which one should I choose? What do you think?”

  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.”

  He ate some more meat as she clenched her teeth and swallowed hard.

  “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.

  She asked the Bird Man, then turned back to him. “He says it is a firefighter.”

  “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.”

  “I see.” He leaned back.

  He knew. She realized he had known before he asked her the question. He wanted to see if she would lie to him.

  “Who are these firefighters?”

  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.

  “Firefighters are enforcers who travel the country to bring Rahl’s decree that people are not allowed to use fire. They can be quite brutal in their task. Savidlin says two of them came here a few weeks back, told them fire was outlawed, and then threatened them when the Mud People wouldn’t agree to follow the new law. They feared the two would go back and bring more men . . . So they killed them. The Mud People believe they can gain their enemies’ wisdom by eating them. To be a man among the Mud People, to be one of them, you must eat it also, so you will have the knowledge of their enemies. It is the main purpose of banquets. That, and to call the ancestors’ spirits.”

  “And have I eaten enough of it to satisfy the elders?” The expression in his eyes cut through her.

  She wished she could run away. “Yes.”

  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.

  “Kahlan, do me a favor. Go and get me an apple out of my pack. I feel like I need something familiar to clear this taste out of my mouth.”

  “Your legs work,” she snapped.

  “Yes, but I need to devote some time to deciding which one of these beautiful young women I will lie with.”