Stone of Tears

by Terry Goodkind

  "Savidlin!" Weselan scolded in a scandalized tone. She turned to them. "If he didn't already have a hurt, I would have given him one. A good one."

  "So how did you get this hurt?" Richard asked.

  Savidlin shrugged. "Like I told my men: it was easy. You just stand there like a surprised rabbit while a trespasser puts a spear through you."

  "And why didn't he finish you?"

  "Because I put a few ten-step arrows in him." He pointed at his throat. "Here."

  "What's a ten-step arrow?"

  Savidlin reached to the side and pulled a barbed, fine-pointed arrow from his quiver. "One of these. See the dark stain? Poison. Ten-step poison. When it sticks you, you get only ten steps, and then you are dead." He laughed. "My men decided to think of a different way to get those women to carry them."

  Weselan leaned over and stuffed the rest of her tava bread in her husband's mouth. She turned to Kahlan. "Men enjoy telling the most awful stories." She broke into a shy smile. "But I worried for him until he was well. I knew he was well when he came to me and made Siddin. Then I did not worry anymore."

  Kahlan realized she had translated before she had paid attention to the meaning of the words. She felt her ears burn. Instead of looking at Richard, she paid close attention to eating her porridge. She was glad her hair covered her ears, at least.

  Savidlin gave Richard a look of a put-upon male. "You will find that women, too, like to tell stories."

  Kahlan tried desperately to think of a new direction for the conversation. She couldn't. Thankfully, Savidlin did. He leaned back, looking out the door.

  "It will soon be the time to go."

  "How do you know what time we are to go?"

  Savidlin shrugged. "I am here, you are here, some of the men are here. When they are all here, that is the time to go."

  Savidlin went to the corner and retrieved a bow that was taller than the one Kahlan had seen him use before. Taller for Richard. With the aid of his foot, Savidlin stretched the cord to the bow.

  Richard had a wide grin on his face. He told Savidlin it was the finest bow he had ever seen. Savidlin beamed with pride and gave him a quiver full of arrows.

  Richard tested the weight of the draw. "How did you know how strong to make the pull? It's just right."

  Savidlin pointed at his chin. "I remembered how strong your respect for my strength was when we first met. It is too heavy for me, but I estimated it was right for you."

  Kahlan stood up next to Richard. "Are you sure you want to go? How does your head feel?"

  "Terrible. But I have the leaves; they help a little. I think I'll be all right. Savidlin is looking forward to this. I don't want to disappoint him."

  She rubbed her hand on his shoulder. "Should I come with you?"

  Richard kissed her forehead. "I don't think I'll need anyone to translate to tell me how badly I'm being beaten. And I don't think I want to give Chandalen's men any excuse to humiliate me any worse than they are already going to."

  "Zedd told me you were pretty good. In fact, he told me you were better than good."

  Richard stole a look at Savidlin, who was stringing his own bow. "It's been a long time since I've shot a bow. Zedd was just trying to stir up trouble, I'll bet."

  He stole a kiss while Savidlin was finishing and then went out the door with him. Kahlan leaned against the doorframe still feeling the print of his lips on hers as she watched him walking away.

  Showing no emotion, Chandalen stared up from sighting down one of his arrows. Prindin and Tossidin gave sly smiles. They were looking forward to this. Richard glanced around, meeting the eyes of all the men as he walked past. They fell in behind him. He was a good head taller than any of them. They looked like a bunch of children following an adult. But these children had poison arrows, and some of them didn't hold any favor for Richard. Suddenly she didn't like this.

  Weselan stood next to her, watching the men go. "Savidlin said he will watch Richard's back. Don't be concerned, Chandalen would not do anything foolish."

  "I worry about what Chandalen considers foolish."

  Weselan wiped her hands on a cloth, turning back to keep a watchful eye on Siddin. Siddin wanted to go out, and was sitting, poking a finger along the ground, looking dejected because his mother said she wanted him to stay inside. Weselan stood over him a long moment watching. He looked up, his chin resting in one palm. She gave him a gentle snap with the cloth.

  "Go outside and play." Weselan sighed as he tore through the door with a squeal of glee. She shook her head to herself. "The young don't know how dear life is. Or how fragile."

  "Maybe that is why we all wish we were young again."

  Weselan nodded. "Maybe so." A handsome smile came to her tanned face. Her dark eyes sparkled. "What color would you like to wear when you wed your man?"

  With both hands, Kahlan pulled her long hair back over her shoulders and thought a minute. A smile welled up from within. "Richard favors blue."

  Weselan twined her fingers together. "Oh, that would be just right, then. I have just the thing. I have been saving it for something special."

  She went into her small bedroom and came back with a bundle. Sitting on the bench next to Kahlan, she carefully unfolded it in her lap. The cloth was finely woven, a rich blue with a print of lighter blue flowers dappled across it. Kahlan thought it would make a gorgeous dress.

  She tested the weave between her finger and thumb. "It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

  "I traded for it." She flicked her hand over her head. "With people from the north. They like the bowls I make. I traded with them for it."

  Kahlan knew fine cloth when she saw it. Weselan would have had to make many bowls for this cloth. "I wouldn't feel right using it, Weselan. You worked hard for this. It is yours."

  Weselan held up the corners of the blue fabric, giving it a critical appraisal. "Nonsense. You two come here and teach our people how to make roofs that don't leak. You save Siddin from those shadow things, and in the process rid us of an old fool and make it so Savidlin can be one of the six elders. He has never been so happy. When Siddin is carried off, you find him and bring him back to us. You destroy the man who would have enslaved us. You two are guardians to our people. What is a piece of cloth?

  "I will be proud the Mother Confessor of all the Midlands is wedded in a dress I make. Me, just a simple woman. For you, my friend, from all those far away places, with all those grand things that I cannot even imagine. You would not be taking something from me. You would be giving me something."

  Kahlan's eyes filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled. "You can't know the joy you have given me, Weselan. To be a Confessor is to be feared. My whole life, people have feared and shunned me. No one has ever treated me as just a woman; talked to me as a woman. Only as a Confessor. No one before Richard ever saw me as a person. No woman before you ever welcomed me into her home. No woman has ever let me hold their child." She wiped away some of the tears. "It will be the most beautiful dress I have ever worn, the most treasured dress I will ever have. I will wear it, proud that a friend made it for me."

  Weselan gave her a sidelong look. "When your man sees you in this dress, he will make you a child of your own."

  Kahlan laughed and cried and hugged her. She had never dared to dream that all these things could happen in her life; that she could ever be treated as anything but a Confessor.

  Kahlan and Weselan spent the better part of the morning starting the dress. Weselan seemed as excited about making the dress as Kahlan was about wearing it. The seamstresses back in Aydindril had nothing over Weselan with her fine bone needles. They settled on a simple design fashioned something like a kirtle.

  They had a simple lunch of tava bread and chicken broth. Weselan said she would work on the dress later, and asked what Kahlan wanted to do in the afternoon. Kahlan said she really would like to cook something.

  Kahlan never ate meat when she was here before on official business because she knew the Mud Peop
le ate human flesh, ate their enemies to gain their knowledge. To avoid offending them, she had always used the excuse that she didn't eat meat. The night before, Richard had reacted strangely to eating meat, so Kahlan didn't say anything to change the menu when Weselan suggested a vegetable stew.

  The two of them cut up tava, some other rust colored roots Kahlan didn't recognize, peppers, beans, some nutty kuru, and then added greens and dried mushrooms into the big iron kettle hanging over the little fire in the corner cooking hearth. Weselan pushed a few sticks of hardwood into the fire as she told Kahlan the men probably wouldn't be back until dark. She suggested they go to the common area with the other women and bake some tava bread in the ovens.

  "I would like that," Kahlan said.

  "We will talk about the wedding with them. Talk of weddings always makes for good conversation." She smiled. "Especially when there are no men around."

  Kahlan was happy to find that the young women talked to her now. In the past they had always been too shy. The older women wanted to talk about the marriage. The younger women wanted to talk about faraway places. They wanted to know if it was really true that men followed her orders, that they did as she said.

  Their eyes were wide as Kahlan told them about the Central Council and how she protected the interests of peoples like the Mud People from the threat of invasion by more powerful lands so the Mud People and others in small communities could live as they wished. She explained that although she was able to command people, she did so only because she was the servant to all the people. When they asked if she commanded armies of men in battle, Kahlan told them that it wasn't like that; that what she did was try to help the different lands work together so there wouldn't be fighting. They wanted to know how many servants she had and what sorts of fabulous dresses she had. The questions were beginning to make the older women nervous, and to frustrate Kahlan.

  She flopped a ball of dough down on the board, sending up a little cloud of flour. She looked the younger women in the eye.

  "The prettiest dress I will ever have will be the dress Weselan is making me, because she is doing it out of friendship, and not because I commanded her to make it. There is no possession to compare to friendship. I would give up everything I have, and live in rags, and grub for roots, just to have one friend."

  That seemed to quiet the young girls, and settle the older women. The chatter drifted back to the subject of the wedding, and Kahlan was happy to let it. She tried to keep out of it, to let the older women lead the talk.

  *****

  Near the end of the afternoon, Kahlan saw a commotion across the field. She saw a taller figure, Richard, taking long strides toward Savidlin and Weselan's home. Even from this distance, she could tell he was angry. A throng of hunters followed in his wake, trotting at times to keep pace.

  Kahlan wiped her flour covered hands on a cloth. She threw the towel on a table as she stepped off the plank floor of the shelter and jogged the distance to the men. She caught them as they went down a wide passageway.

  Pushing through the hunters, she finally caught up with Richard just before he reached the Savidlin's doorway. Chandalen was right at his heels, along with Savidlin. Chandalen had blood down his shoulder, with some kind of mud pack over a wound on top. He looked to be in a mood to chew rocks.

  She grabbed Richard's sleeve. He spun around with a hot expression that cooled a little when he saw it was her. He removed his hand from the hilt of the sword.

  "Richard, what's wrong?"

  He glared around at the men, mostly Chandalen, then settled his gaze back on her. "I need you to translate. We had a little... 'adventure'... this afternoon. I haven't been able to make them understand what happened."

  "I want to know how he could dare to try to kill me!" Chandalen was saying over Richard's words.

  "What's he talking about? He wants to know why you tried to kill him."

  "Kill him! I saved his fool life. Don't ask me why! I should have let him get killed! The next time I will!" He ran his fingers through his hair. "My head is killing me."

  Chandalen pointed angrily at the wound on the top of his shoulder. "You did this deliberately! I saw how you shoot! It could not have been an accident!"

  Richard threw his hands in the air. "Idiot!" he said to the sky. He lowered his glare to Chandalen's fierce eyes. "Yes, you saw me shoot! Do you have any doubt that if I wanted to kill you, you would not be breathing right now! Of course I did it deliberately! It was the only way to save you!" He reached over her shoulder, putting his hand close to Chandalen's face, holding his first finger and thumb half an inch apart. "This is all the room I had! At the most! If I didn't take it, you would be dead!

  "What do you mean?" Chandalen demanded.

  Kahlan put a hand on his arm. "Calm down, Richard. Just tell us what happened."

  "He couldn't understand me. None of them could. I couldn't explain it to them." He looked at her in frustration. "I killed a man today."

  "What!" she whispered. "You killed one of Chandalen's men?"

  "No! That's not what they're angry about. They're happy I killed him. I was saving Chandalen's life! But they think..."

  She collected herself. "Just calm down. I will explain your words to them."

  Richard nodded and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked down at the ground as he combed the fingers of both hands through his hair. He looked back up. "I'm only going to explain this once, Chandalen. If you can't get it through your thick head, then we are going to stand at opposite ends of the village and shoot arrows at each other until we can't argue anymore. And I will only need one arrow."

  Chandalen lifted an eyebrow and folded his muscular arms. "So explain."

  Richard took a deep breath. "You were standing a long way off. For some reason, I knew he was there, behind you. I spun around. All I could see of him... here, like this." He grabbed Kahlan by her shoulders and turned her around, facing Chandalen. He held her shoulders and ducked down behind her. "Like this. I couldn't see any of him but the top of his head. He had his spear ready. In one second more, he would have put it through your back. I had only one chance to keep him from killing you. Only one chance. I couldn't see enough of him; there was nothing else to shoot at from where I was. Only the very top of his head.

  "The top of his forehead sloped back. If I hit it too high, the arrow would have deflected off, and he would have killed you. The only way to stop him, to kill him, was to let the arrow nick the top of your shoulder."

  He held his finger and thumb half an inch apart again. "This is all I had. If I put the arrow that much lower, your bone would have deflected the arrow, and he would have had you. If I would have put it that much higher, just enough not to nick you, he would have lived, and you would be dead. I knew Savidlin's bladed arrow could pass through a little of your flesh and allow me to kill him. There was no time for anything else. I had to shoot instantly. I think a dozen stitches is a light price to pay for your life."

  Chandalen's eyes looked a little less sure. "How do I know you are telling the truth?"

  Richard shook his head, muttering. He suddenly thought of something. He snatched a cloth sack from one of Chandalen's men. He thrust his hand in the sack and pulled out a head, lifting it by blood soaked, matted hair.

  Kahlan gasped. She put a hand over her mouth as she turned away. But before she did, she saw an arrow jutting from the center of the forehead, the blade end sticking from the back of the head.

  Richard held the head behind Chandalen's shoulder and laid the feathers of the shaft on his shoulder, next to the wound.

  "This is all I saw. If it were not as I say, if he had been standing straighter, and I put the arrow where I did, it would not have touched you."

  The hunters all started nodding and whispering among themselves. Chandalen looked down at the shaft of the arrow lying on his shoulder. He looked back at the head. He thought about it a minute and then unfolded his arms and took the head, stuffing it back in the sack.


  "I have been stitched before. A few more will not hurt me. I will take your words as true. This time."

  Richard put his fists on his hips as he watched Chandalen and his men walking away. "You're welcome," he called after them.

  Kahlan didn't translate that. "Why do they have that head?"

  "Don't ask me. It wasn't my idea. And you don't want to know what they did with the rest of him."

  "Richard, that seems a risky shot to me. How far were you when you shot that arrow?"

  The heat left his voice. "Not risky at all, believe me. And I was at least a hundred paces."

  "You can shoot an arrow that accurately at a hundred paces?"

  He sighed. "I'm afraid I could have done it at twice that distance. Three times that distance." He looked down at the blood on his hands. "I have to go wash this off. Kahlan, in about two minutes my head is going to explode. I have to sit down. Could you please go get Nissel? Yelling at that idiot was the only thing keeping me on my feet."

  She put a hand on his arm. "Of course. Go on inside, I'll go get her."

  "I think Savidlin is angry with me too. Please tell him that I'm sorry I ruined so many of his arrows."

  She frowned as Richard went inside, closing the door. Savidlin looked as if he was about to speak to her. She took him by the arm.

  "Richard needs Nissel. Come with me, and tell me what happened."

  Savidlin cast a glance over his shoulder at the door to his home as they hurried away. "Richard With The Temper seems to be living up to his name."

  "He is upset because he killed a man. It is not an easy thing to live with."

  "He didn't tell you all of the story. There was more to it."

  "So tell me."

  He looked over with a grave expression. "We were shooting. Chandalen was angry, because of the shots Richard was making. He said Richard was a demon and went off and stood in the tall grass by himself. The rest of us were standing off to the other side, watching Richard shoot. The things he was doing did not seem possible. He nocked an arrow. Suddenly, he spun around toward Chandalen. Before we could even shout, Richard shot an arrow at Chandalen as he stood there with his arms folded. He had no weapon in his hand. None of us could believe Richard would do this.