Her head was still resting on his shoulder, and she felt his breathing halt for a moment as he realized the significance of what she had told him. “Richard, do you still remember the book?”
His voice came low and distant. “Every word.”
“Though I heard you recite it, and I know you spoke it all, I cannot remember a word of what you said. The magic of certain words erased it all from my mind. I don’t know how you used it to defeat Darken Rahl.”
“The first of the book said that if the words were being told to the one who controlled the boxes of Orden, and not read by that person, then the only way that person could know the words were true was with the use of a Confessor. Rahl thought you had taken me with your power, and so he thought I was speaking all the words true. I did speak the words true, but I left out an important part at the end so he would pick the box that would kill him.”
“You see? You still remember the words. You could not do that if you didn’t have the gift; the magic would prevent it. Richard, if we are going to get out of this, we have to at least face the truth, and then think of what to do about it.
“My love, you have the gift. You have magic. I’m sorry, but that is the truth of it.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “I guess I just so badly didn’t want it to be that I have been trying to talk myself out of it. But things don’t work that way. I hope you don’t think me a fool. Thank you for loving me enough to make me see the truth.”
“You are no fool. You are my love. We will think of something.” She kissed the back of his hand and they watched the sky in silence. It was a dark, cold gray, a mirror to her mood.
“I wish you could have met my father. He was a special person. I guess even I never knew how special. I miss him.”
He stared off into his own thoughts. “What of your father?”
Kahlan twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. “My father was mate to my mother; mate to a Confessor. He was not a father in the way a man is a father to other children. He had been taken by her power, and there was nothing to him but his devotion to her. He paid heed to me only to please my mother, only because I was born to her. He didn’t see me as myself, but only as a part of the Confessor he was bonded to.”
Richard pulled a piece of long grass and flattened the end of it between his front teeth as he thought, at last asking, “Who was he before she took him with the magic?”
“He was Wyborn Amnell. King of Galea.”
Richard pushed himself up on an elbow, looking down at her with surprise. “King! Your father was a king?”
Without realizing she was doing it, her expression slipped into the calm exterior that showed nothing: a Confessor’s face.
“My father was mate to a Confessor. That was all that was in him. When my mother was dying of a terrible wasting illness, he was in a constant state of panic. One day the wizard and the healer who had been tending her came to us and said there was nothing more they could do, that the spirits would soon take her to be with them, that she would soon pass from life.
“With a wail of anguish like none I have ever heard, my father clutched his chest and fell to the floor, dead.”
Richard gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Kahlan.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
He lay back once more and put the stalk of grass back between his teeth.
“It was a long time ago.”
“So, what does that make you? Are you a princess, or a queen, or something?”
She laughed a little at the question, at how strange all this must seem to him. He still knew little of her life, her world. “No. I am the Mother Confessor. The daughter of a Confessor is a Confessor, not the daughter of her father.” She felt uncomfortable about seeming to belittle her father. It was not his fault her mother had chosen and taken him. “Do you wish to know about him?”
He shrugged. “Sure. You are part of him, too. I like knowing all about you.”
She thought a moment about what his reaction would be. “Well, he was the husband to Queen Bernadine when my mother chose him as her mate.”
“Your mother chose a man who was already married?”
She felt Richard’s eyes on her. “It is not as it must seem to you. The marriage between him and the queen was arranged. He was a warrior, a great commander. The marriage wedded his realm to the lands ruled by Queen Bernadine, creating the land of Galea. He did it for his people, to make a united land under a crown that could stand against hostile neighbors.
“The queen was a wise and respected leader. She married my father for the good of Galea, not for herself. She and my father had no love for each other. He gave her, gave the people of Galea, a fine, strong daughter, Cyrilla, and a then a son, Harold.”
“Then you have a half sister and brother.”
She shrugged. “In a way. But not in the way you think of it. I am a Confessor, not a knot in the string of royalty. I have met both Cyrilla and Harold. They are fine people. Cyrilla is the Queen of Galea now. Her mother died a few years back. Prince Harold is the commander of the army, as was his father. They don’t think of me as kin, nor I them. I am of the Confessors; of the magic.”
“What about your mother? When did she come into all this?”
“She had just become the Mother Confessor at the time. She wanted a strong mate, one who would give her a daughter with strength. She had heard the queen was not happy in her marriage, and went to speak with her. Queen Bernadine told my mother that she did not love her husband, that he was a cuckold. Even though she loved another, she respected Wyborn as a strong man, as a leader, and as a cunning warrior, and would not condone my mother taking him with her power.
“While my mother was thinking on what she would do, Wyborn caught the queen in the bed of that lover. He nearly killed her. When my mother heard of this, she returned to Galea and solved everyone’s problems before he could add the murder of the lover to the beating he had given his wife.
“Though a Confessor has many things to fear, being struck by her husband is not one of them.”
“It must be hard to have to choose a mate without loving him.”
She smiled and pressed her head against him. “In my whole life, I never thought I would be able to have anyone I love. I wish my mother could have known this joy.”
“What was it like having him as your father?”
She folded her fingers together against her stomach. “He was as a stranger to me. He had no emotion except for my mother, no real feelings, except for devotion to my mother. She wished him to spend time with me, to teach me the things he knew, so he was overjoyed to do so, but for her sake, not mine.
“He spent time teaching me what he knew: war. He taught me the tactics of his enemies, how to steal victory from a much larger and confident force, and most importantly, how to survive, and triumph, by using your head instead of rules. My mother would sit sometimes and watch as he taught me. He would look up and ask her if he was teaching me correctly. She told him he was; to teach me so that I might know the skills of war he knew, in the hope I’d never need them, and if I did, so that I might survive.
“He taught me that the most important quality in a warrior is ruthlessness. He said that he prevailed many times by being ruthless. He said terror could overwhelm reason, and it was a leader’s job to bring that manner of terror to the enemy.
“The things he taught me helped me survive when other Confessors died. Because of what he taught me, I was able to kill when there was need. He taught me not to be afraid of doing the things that must be done to survive.
“For the things he taught me, I loved him, and I hated him.”
“Well, I love him, for teaching you to how to survive, so that you could be with me now.”
Kahlan shook her head slightly as she watched a small bird chasing away a raven. “The things he knew were not the horror; those who make you do them to survive are. He never wrongly took war to others. I shouldn’t fault him for knowing h
ow to triumph when he was forced to fight a war. Richard, perhaps we should start thinking about surviving now.”
“You’re right,” he said, slipping an arm around her. “You know, I was thinking, we’re sitting here like those targets; just sitting here waiting for an arrow to come and shoot us, waiting to see what will happen to us.”
“What do you think we should do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But if we keep sitting here, sooner or later we’re going to get shot. Sooner or later the Sisters are going to come back. Why should we just wait for them to come to us? I don’t have the answers, but I can’t see how sitting here is going to help.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, burying her hands to get them warm. “Zedd?”
Richard nodded. “Zedd would know what to do, if anyone would. I think we need to see him.”
“What about the headaches? What if you get them when we’re traveling? What if they get worse, and you don’t have even Nissel to help?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “But I think we have to try. Otherwise, I don’t have a chance.”
“Then let’s leave right away, before they get worse. Let’s not wait for anything else to happen.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “Soon. But we have to do something first. Something important.”
Kahlan twisted her head around, looking up at him. “What?”
He smiled down at her. “We have to get married,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving until I get to see this dress I keep hearing so much about.”
She turned and hugged him. “Oh, Richard, it’s going to be so beautiful. Weselan smiles the whole time she sews on it. I can’t wait for you to see me in it. I know you will love it.”
“Of that, my wife-to-be, I have no doubt.”
“Everyone is looking forward to it. A wedding feast among the Mud People is a big party. Dancing, music, actors. The whole village joins in. Weselan said it will take a week or so to prepare everything, once we give the word to start.”
He pulled her closer. “Word is given.”
She had her eyes closed as she kissed him, but even so, she could tell his headache was back.
“Come on,” she said, catching her breath, “let’s shoot some arrows so your head will stop hurting.”
They took turns for a while. Kahlan squealed in delight when they went to retrieve their arrows and she found she had put one of hers through one of his.
“Wait until the Home Guard hears about this! They will turn green, having to give the Mother Confessor a ribbon for making a shaft shot. They may even turn green just seeing me with a bow in my hands!”
Richard laughed as he pulled arrows from the targets. “Well, you’d better keep practicing. They might not believe you, and you may have to prove it to them. And I’m not taking the blame for this one with Savidlin.” He turned to her suddenly. “What did you say? What did you say, before, last night, about the quad? Rahl sent them with a spell so Zedd couldn’t stop them?”
Kahlan was a little surprised at his sudden change of subject. “Yes, his magic wouldn’t work against them.”
“That’s because Zedd has only Additive Magic. That’s all any wizard with the gift has: just the Additive. Darken Rahl had the gift for Additive but he had somehow learned to use Subtractive. Zedd had no defense against Subtractive Magic. Neither did you. Wizards created the Confessor’s magic, and wizards have only Additive Magic.” She nodded with a frown for him to go on. “So then how did you kill them?”
“I went into the Con Dar.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the Confessor’s magic, but I had never before known how to use it. It was something to do with rage. It means ‘Blood Rage.’ ”
“Kahlan, do you realize what you’re saying? You had to have used Subtractive Magic. Otherwise, how could you have defeated them? Zedd’s magic didn’t work, and your regular magic didn’t work, because those men were protected from Additive Magic. You must have Subtractive Magic. But if wizards of long ago created your Confessor’s magic, how can it have an element of Subtractive to it?”
She stared at him. “I don’t know. I never thought about it, but it must be as you say. Maybe when we get to Aydindril, Zedd can explain it.”
With a frown, he pulled another arrow from the bundled grass. “Maybe. But why would Confessors have Subtractive Magic?” His frown deepened. “I wonder if that was what you did with the lightning.”
Richard with the gift, and her with Subtractive Magic.
Two frightening thoughts. She shivered, but not from the cold.
They shot arrows the rest of the afternoon, until the daylight began to dim. Her shoulders and arms were weary from pulling the bowstring. She told him she couldn’t shoot another arrow if her life depended on it, and told him to shoot some arrows before they went back, so his headache would be gone for a while. As she watched him, it occurred to her she hadn’t tried to distract him while he shot, and he had promised she could try.
Kahlan stepped up close behind him. “Time to see if you are really as good as you think you are.”
When he drew back the bowstring, she tickled his ribs. He didn’t flinch; he shot the same as before. But he laughed and squirmed after the arrow was away. She kept trying as he shot, but wasn’t able to distract him. She became more determined. If tickling wouldn’t work, she would just have to try something else.
Kahlan pressed up against his back as he concentrated on aiming, and smoothly unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. She slipped her hand inside and ran it over his chest. His skin was taut over his hard muscles. He felt good. Warm. Strong. Hard.
She unbuttoned more buttons to better extend her reach. She ran the fingers of one hand through the back of his hair as the other roamed across his stomach. Richard kept shooting.
She started to forget about distracting him as she kissed the back of his neck. He giggled and hunched his shoulders after the arrow was away. He nocked another arrow. At last, she had all the buttons undone and was feeling all of the front of his torso, all the way down to his belt. Kahlan pulled the shirttails out of his pants and ran both hands over his body, one high, one low. It didn’t keep him from hitting the target. She couldn’t break his concentration. Her breathing quickened.
She decided she was going to win this game. She smiled as she pressed harder against him and reached farther.
“Kahlan!” he gasped. “Kahlan . . . that’s not fair!” He still had the bowstring drawn, but his aim was starting to wander. He worked to steady it.
She drew his earlobe gently between her teeth and kissed his ear. “You said you have to be able to shoot no matter what is happening,” she whispered as she pushed her hand farther.
“Kahlan . . .” His voice was high and strained. “That isn’t fair . . . that’s cheating!”
“No matter what. Those were your exact words. You have to be able to make the shot under pressure.” She ran her tongue into his ear. “Is this enough pressure, my love? Can you do it? Can you make the shot?”
“Kahlan . . .” he panted. “You’re cheating.”
She gave a throaty laugh and squeezed. He gasped and released the bowstring. By its flight, she knew that was one arrow they would never find.
“I think you missed,” she breathed in his ear.
He twisted around in her arms, dropping his bow. His face was red as he enclosed her in his arms.
He kissed her ear. “Not fair,” he whispered, his breath hot. “You cheat.” The touch of his lips on her ear made her gasp.
She held on tight as he pulled her hair away and put his warm mouth to her neck. It made her shiver. She hunched her shoulder against his face and half moaned, half laughed as the world tilted and she found herself on the ground under him. She managed to get out most of “I love you” before his lips covered hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She couldn’t get her breath. She didn’t want to.
Just as she was starting to wonder when his hands were going to get even for what she ha
d done, Richard leapt to his feet.
He drew his sword in a rush.
The passion in his eyes had been replaced by rage. Anger from the Sword of Truth flashed in his expression. The ring of steel was carried away by the wind. He stood with his shirt open, his chest exposed and heaving with fury. She pushed herself up on her elbows.
“Richard, what is it?”
“Something is coming. Get behind me. Now!”
Kahlan sprang to her feet, snatched up her bow, and nocked an arrow. “Some thing!”
A ways off, she saw the grass moving, and it wasn’t the wind.
Chapter 12
A splotchy gray head bobbed toward them through the long grass. Whatever it was, it wasn’t very tall. Kahlan wondered if it could be another screeling. At that thought, she drew her bowstring back until the arrow’s point was at her grip on the bow and the string against her cheek. She frantically worried if she could make the shot if it came at them. Although, from what she had seen of a screeling before, an arrow, she realized, would do no good. She wondered if she could call the lightning again.
Richard lifted his arm in front of her. “Wait.” A squat, hairless figure with long arms and big feet, dressed only in pants held up with straps, broke through the grass in front of them. Blinking yellow eyes gazed up at her pointing the arrow between them. A sharp-toothed grin split its face. “Pretty lady.” It was the witch woman Shota’s companion.
“Samuel!” Richard growled. “What are you doing here?”
The beastly creature hissed and reached for the sword. “Mine! Gimme!”
Richard brandished the blade menacingly and Samuel, pouting, snatched his arm back. Richard laid the sword’s tip on the gray folds of skin at Samuel’s neck. “I asked, what are you doing here?”
Hateful eyes peered up. “Mistress wants you.”
“Well, you can just go home by yourself. We’re not going to Agaden Reach.”
He regarded Richard with one yellow eye. “Mistress not in the Reach.” He turned, stretching up on his toes to look over the grass, and pointed a long, thick finger back toward the Mud People’s village. “Mistress waits for you there. Where those people live together.” He glared back at Richard. “She said if you don’t come, she will kill them, and Samuel can cook them in a stew.” His grin returned.
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