“Chandalen!” The man looked up. “Don’t start a fire.”
Richard trotted over to where Chandalen and his hunters waited.
“What is the trouble?” Chandalen asked. “Why do you wish us not to have fire? As long as we are to stop here for a time, we wish to cook meat and share our food.”
Richard scratched his brow. “The evil spirit that killed Juni can find people through water and fire. I’m sorry, but you need to keep your people from using fire for the time being. If you use fire you may have more evil spirits killing your people.”
“Are you sure?”
Richard put a hand on Jiaan’s shoulder. “These people are strong like the Mud People. On their way here, one of them was killed by an evil spirit from a fire.”
Chandalen took in Jiaan’s nod that it was true.
“Before we knew what was happening, he was burned alive by the fire,” Jiaan said. “He was a strong man, and brave. He was not a man to be taken easily by an enemy, but we did not hear a word before he died.”
Frustration tightened Chandalen’s jaw as he looked out over the plains before returning his attention to Richard. “But if we cannot have fire, how are we to eat? We must bake tava bread and cook our food. We cannot eat raw dough and raw meat. The women use fire to make pottery. The men use it to make weapons. How are we to live?”
Richard let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know, Chandalen. I only know that fire may bring the evil spirit—the chimes—again. I’m simply telling you the only thing I know to do to help keep our people safe.
“I guess you will be forced to use fire, but keep in mind the danger it may bring. If everyone knows of the danger, maybe it will be safe to use fire when you must.”
“And are we not to drink for fear of going near water?”
“Chandalen, I wish I knew the answers.” Richard wiped a weary hand across his face. “I only know that water, fire, and high places are dangerous. The chimes are able to use those things to harm people. The more we can stay away from them, the safer we will be.”
“But even if we do this, from what you said before the chimes will still kill.”
“I don’t have nearly enough answers, Chandalen. I’m trying to tell you everything I can think of in order that you might help keep our people safe. There very well may be yet more dangers I don’t even know about.”
Chandalen put his hands on his hips as he looked out over his people’s grasslands. His jaw muscles flexed as he thought on matters Richard could only guess. Richard waited silently until Chandalen spoke.
“Is it true, as you said, that a child yet to be born in our village died because of these chimes of death that are loose in the world?”
“I’m sorry, Chandalen, but I believe it is so.”
His intent dark eyes met Richard’s gaze. “How did these evil spirits come to be in this world?”
Richard licked the corners of his mouth. “I believe Kahlan, without realizing it or intending it, may have called them with magic in order to save my life. Because they were used to save my life, it is my fault they are here.”
Chandalen considered Richard’s admission. “The Mother Confessor would not intend harm. You would not intend harm. Yet it is because of you the chimes of death are here?”
Chandalen’s tone had changed from confusion and alarm to authority. He was, after all, now an elder. He had a responsibility to the safety of his people that went beyond that of hunter.
In much the way the Mud People and the Baka Tau Mana shared many of the same values yet had nearly come to blows, Chandalen and Richard had at one time a fractious relationship. Fortunately, they both now understood that they shared much more in common than they disagreed about.
Richard looked out at the distant clouds and the sheets of rain lashing the dark and distant horizon. “I’m afraid that’s the truth of it. Added to that, I neglected to remember valuable information to tell Zedd, when I had the chance. Now he will be gone in search of the chimes.”
Chandalen again considered Richard’s words before speaking.
“You are Mud People and have both struggled to protect us. We know you both did not mean to bring the chimes and cause harm.”
Chandalen drew himself up tall—he didn’t come up to Richard’s shoulder—and delivered his pronouncement.
“We know you and the Mother Confessor both will do what you must to set this right.”
Richard understood only too well the code of responsibility, obligation, and duty by which this man lived. Though he and Chandalen came from very different peoples, with very different cultures, Richard had grown up by many of the same standards. Perhaps, he thought, they weren’t really that different. Maybe they wore different clothes, but they had much the same heart, the same longings, and the same desires. They shared, too, many of the same fears.
Not only Richard’s stepfather but also Zedd had taught him many of the very things Chandalen’s people had taught him. If you brought harm, no matter the reason, you had to set it right as best you could.
While it was understandable to be afraid, and no one would expect you not to be, the worst thing you could do was to run from the trouble you had caused. No matter how accidental it was, you didn’t try to deny it. You didn’t run. You did what you must to right it.
If not for Richard, the chimes would not be free. Kahlan’s actions to save his life had already cost others theirs. She, too, would not waver for an instant from their duty to do whatever they could to stop the chimes. It wasn’t even a question open to debate.
“You have my solemn word, Elder Chandalen. I will not rest until the Mud People and everyone else are safe from the chimes. I will not rest until the chimes are back in the underworld where they belong. Or I will die trying.”
A small smile, warm with pride, crept onto Chandalen’s face.
“I knew I did not need to remind you of your promise to always protect our people, but it is good to hear from your own lips that you have not forgotten your vow.”
Chandalen surprised Richard with a hard slap.
“Strength to Richard with the Temper. May his anger burn hot and swift against our enemies.”
Richard comforted his stinging jaw and had turned from Chandalen when he noticed Kahlan returning with Du Chaillu.
“For a woods guide,” Cara said, “you manage to get yourself in a lot of trouble. Do you think you will have any wives left, now that they are finished?”
He knew Cara was only nettling him, in her odd way trying to buoy his spirits. “One, I hope.”
“Well, if not,” Cara said with a smirk, “we will always have each other.”
Richard made for the other two women. “The position of wife is filled, thank you.”
Kahlan and Du Chaillu walked side by side through the grass, their faces showing no emotion. At least he didn’t see any blood.
“Your other wife has convinced me to talk to you,” Du Chaillu said when Richard met them.
“You are fortunate to have us both,” she added.
Richard thought better of opening his mouth, lest he allow to leap off his tongue the flip remark dancing impatiently there.
31
Du Chaillu walked off to her blade masters, apparently telling the men to sit and rest themselves while she spoke with the Caharin. While she was seeing to that, Kahlan, with the end of her finger in his ribs, prodded Richard in the direction of their gear.
“Get Du Chaillu a blanket to sit on,” Kahlan murmured.
“Why does she need ours? They have their own blankets with them. Besides, she doesn’t need a blanket to sit on to tell me why she’s here.”
Kahlan poked his ribs again. “Just get it.” she said under her breath so the others wouldn’t hear. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the woman is pregnant and could use a rest off her feet.”
“Well that doesn’t—”
“Richard,” Kahlan snapped, hushing him. “When you insist someone submit to your will, it is accomplished most eas
ily if you give them a small victory so they can retain their dignity while they do as you insist. If you wish, I will carry it over to her.”
“Well,” Richard said, “all right, then. I guess—”
“See? You just proved it. And you will carry the blanket.”
“So Du Chaillu gets a small victory, but I don’t?”
“You’re a big boy. Du Chaillu’s price is a blanket to sit on while she tells you why she’s here. The price is minuscule. Don’t continue a war we have already won just to make the opponent’s humiliation crushing and complete.”
“But she—”
“I know. Du Chaillu was out of line in what she said to you. You know it, I know it, she knows it. But her feelings were hurt and not entirely without cause. We all make mistakes.
“She didn’t understand the dimensions of the danger we have only just discovered we face. She has agreed to peace for the price of our blanket to sit upon. She only wants you to pay her a courtesy. It won’t hurt you to indulge her sensibilities.”
Richard glanced over his shoulder when they reached their things. Du Chaillu was speaking to the blade masters.
“You threaten her?” Richard whispered as he pulled his blanket from his pack.
“Oh yes,” Kahlan whispered back. She put a hand on his arm. “Be gentle. Her ears are liable to be a bit tender after our little talk.”
Richard marched over and made a show of flattening the grass and spreading his blanket on the ground before Du Chaillu. With the flat of his hand, he smoothed out the bigger wrinkles. He set a waterskin in the middle. When finished, he held out a hand in invitation.
“Please, Du Chaillu”—he couldn’t make himself address her as his wife, but he didn’t think that mattered—“sit and speak with me? Your words are important, and time is precious.”
She inspected the way he had matted down the grass, all in one direction, and scrutinized the blanket. Satisfied with the arrangement, she sat at one end and crossed her legs under herself. With her back straight, her chin held high, and her hands clasped in her lap, she looked somehow noble. He guessed she was.
Richard flipped his golden cape back over his shoulders and sat cross-legged at the other end of the blanket. It wasn’t very big, so their knees almost touched. He smiled politely and offered her the waterskin.
As she graciously accepted the waterskin, he recalled the first time he had seen her. She had been in a collar and chained to a wall. She had been naked and filthy, and smelled as if she had been there for months, which she had, yet her bearing was such that she had somehow seemed to him just as noble as she did now, clean and dressed in her spirit-woman prayer dress.
He remembered, too, how when he had been trying to free her, she feared he was going to kill her and she had bitten him. Just recalling it, he could almost feel her teeth marks.
The troubling thought occurred to him that this woman had the gift. He wasn’t sure the extent of her powers, but he could see it in her eyes. Somehow, his ability allowed him to see that timeless look in the eyes of others who were at least brushed with a dusting of the gift of magic.
Sister Verna had told Richard that she had tried little things on Du Chaillu, to test her. Verna said the spells she sent at Du Chaillu disappeared like pebbles dropped down a well, and they did not go unnoticed. Du Chaillu, Verna had said, knew what was being tried, and was somehow able to annul it.
From other things, Richard had long ago come to the realization that Du Chaillu’s gift involved some primitive form of prophecy. Since she had been held in chains for months, he doubted she was able to affect the world around her with her magical ability. People whose magic could affect others in an overt manner didn’t need to bite, he imagined, nor would they allow themselves to be held captive to await being sacrificed. But she was able to prevent others from using magic against her, not an uncommon form of mystical protection against the weapon of magic, Richard had learned.
With the chimes in the world of life, Du Chaillu’s magic, whatever its extent, would fail, if it hadn’t already. He waited until she had her drink and had handed back the waterskin before he began.
“Du Chaillu, I need—”
“Ask how are our people.”
Richard glanced up at Kahlan. Kahlan rolled her eyes and gave him a nod.
Richard set down the waterskin and cleared his throat.
“Du Chaillu, I rejoice to see you are well. Thank you for considering my words of advice to keep your child. I know it is a great responsibility to raise a child. I am sure you will be rewarded with a lifetime of joy at your decision, and the child will be rewarded by your teachings. I also know my words were not as important in your decision as was your own heart.”
Richard didn’t have to try to sound sincere, because he truly was. “I’m sorry you had to leave your other babies to make this long and difficult journey to bring me your words of wisdom. I know you would not have undertaken such a long and arduous journey were it not important.”
She waited, clearly not yet content. Richard, patiently trying to play her game, let out a breath and went on.
“Please, Du Chaillu, tell me how the Baka Tau Mana fare, now that they are returned at last to their ancestral homeland?”
Du Chaillu smiled at last with satisfaction. “Our people are well and happy in their homeland, thanks to you, Caharin, but we will talk of them later. I must now tell you of why I have come.”
Richard made an effort to school his scowl. “I am eager to hear your words.”
She opened her mouth, but then scowled herself. “Where is your sword?”
“I don’t have it with me.”
“Why not?”
“I had to leave it back in Aydindril. It’s a long story and it isn’t—”
“But how can you be the Seeker if you do not have your sword?”
Richard drew a breath. “The Seeker of Truth is a person. The Sword of Truth is a tool the Seeker uses, much like you used the whistle to bring peace. I can still be the Seeker without the sword, just as you can be the spirit woman without the gift of the whistle.”
“It doesn’t seem right.” She looked dismayed. “I liked your sword. It cut the iron collar off my neck and left my head where it was. It announced you to us as the Caharin. You should have your sword.”
Deciding that he had played her game long enough, and considering the vital matters on his mind, he leaned forward and let his scowl have its way.
“I will recover my sword as soon as I return to Aydindril. We were on our way there when we met you here. The less time I spend sitting around on a good traveling day, the sooner I will arrive in Aydindril and be able to recover my sword.
“I’m sorry, Du Chaillu, if I seemed in a rush. I mean no disrespect, but I fear for innocent lives and the lives of ones I love. It is for the safety of the Baka Tau Mana, too, that I am in a hurry.
“I would be thankful if you would tell me what you’re doing here. People are dying. Some of your own people have lost their lives. I must see if there is anything I can do to stop the chimes. The Sword of Truth may help me. I need to get to Aydindril to get it. May we please get on with this?”
Du Chaillu smiled to herself, now that he had given her the proper respect. Slowly, she seemed to lose her ability to hold the smile, losing with it her bluster. For the first time, she seemed unsure, looking suddenly small and frightened.
“My husband, I had a troubling vision of you. As the spirit woman, I sometimes have such visions.”
“Good for you, but I don’t want to hear it.”
She looked up at him. “What?”
“You said it was a vision.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to hear about any visions.”
“But—but—you must. It was a vision.”
“Visions are a form of prophecy. Prophecy has yet to help me, and almost always causes me grief. I don’t want to hear it.”
“But visions help.”
“No, they do not
help.”
“They reveal the truth.”
“They are no more true than dreams.”
“Dreams can be true, also.”
“No, dreams are not true. They are simply dreams. Visions are not true, either. They are simply visions.”
“But I saw you in a vision.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You were on fire.”
Richard heaved a breath. “I’ve had dreams where I can fly, too. That doesn’t make it true.”
Du Chaillu leaned toward him. “You dream you can fly? Really? You mean like a bird?” She straightened. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s just a dream, Du Chaillu. Like your vision.”
“But I had a vision of this. That means it is true.”
“Just because I can fly in my dreams, that doesn’t make it true. I don’t go jumping off high places and flapping my arms. It’s just a dream, like your vision.
“I can’t fly, Du Chaillu.”
“But you can burn.”
Richard put his hands on his knees and leaned back a little as he took a deep and patient breath.
“All right, fine. What else was there to this vision?”
“Nothing. That was all.”
“Nothing? That was it? Me on fire? Just a little dream of me on fire?”
“Not a dream.” She held up a finger to make her point. “A vision.”
“And you journeyed all this way to tell me that? Well, thank you very much for coming such a distance to tell me, but we really must be on our way, now. Tell your people the Caharin wishes them well. Good journey home.”
Richard made to look like he was going to get up.
“Unless you have something more to say?” he added.
Du Chaillu melted a little at the rebuff. “It frightened me to see my husband on fire.”
“As well as it would frighten me to be on fire.”
“I would not like it if the Caharin was on fire.”
“Nor would the Caharin like to be on fire. So, did your vision tell you how I might avoid being on fire?”
She looked down and picked at the blanket. “No.”
Soul of the Fire Page 34