Stone of Tears

Chapter 11

The next day the sky was a cold gray and the wind icy as the two of them went out alone on the plain. Richard wanted to be away from people, away from buildings. He wanted to see the sky and the earth, he said. The brown grass bowed in the stiff gusts that flapped and tugged their cloaks as they walked along in silence. Richard wanted to shoot his bow to make the headache go away for a while. Kahlan just wanted to be with him.

It seemed that the eternity, which a few days ago she had felt belonged to them, was slipping through her fingers. She wanted to fight back, but didn’t know how. Everything that was so right was suddenly going wrong.

She didn’t think that Richard would put on the Rada’Han, the collar, no matter what the Sisters said. He might accept learning to use the gift, but she didn’t think he would wear a collar. And if he didn’t, he would die. After what he had told her—and worse, the things she knew he hadn’t—how could she expect him to wear it? Or ask him to?

It did feel good, though, to be away from the village, away from people and away from Chandalen’s eyes following them everywhere. How could she blame him? It did seem as if the two of them kept bringing trouble, but it irritated her that he acted as if they did it on purpose. She was tired of trouble. It seemed as if it would never end. Well, she decided, for today, at least, they would be away from trouble, and just enjoy being together.

Kahlan had told him she used to shoot a bow. She couldn’t draw his because it was too heavy, so Richard encouraged her to borrow one and bring it along so he could teach her how to shoot better. They found the bundled grass targets the men had set up before, standing head high like a group of scarecrows on guard over the vast, flat grassland. A few even had balled grass for heads. Each had an X made of grass for a target. The targets with heads had an X there as well. Richard thought the Xs were too fat, so he took them off and made ones of single grass stalks.

They stood a long way off; so far, in fact, that she could hardly see the bundled grass, much less the Xs. Richard strapped on a simple leather bracer Savidlin had made for him along with the bow, and shot arrows until his headache was gone.

Richard was a picture of stillness, of smoothness; he was one with the bow. She smiled at how good he looked, and that he was hers. It made her heart ache with joy to see his gray eyes sparkle without the pain of the headache in them. They moved closer so she could shoot.

“Don’t you want to go check where your arrows hit?”

He smiled. “I know where they hit. You shoot now.”

She shot a few arrows, getting the feel again. He set one end of his bow on the ground, rested both hands over the other end, and watched her. She had been a girl the last time she used a bow. Richard watched her shoot a few more times, and then came and stood behind her. His arms came around her, and he adjusted her hand on the bow and put his fingers on the string.

“Here. Do this. You can’t get any power or be steady enough holding the arrow with your thumb and the knuckle of your first finger that way. Hold the bowstring back with your first three fingers, like this, nesting the arrow between the first two. And pull with your shoulder too. You don’t need to pull on the arrow, just concentrate on holding back the string. The arrow will take care of itself. See? Isn’t that better?”

She grinned. “It is with your arms around me.”

“Pay attention to what you’re doing,” he scolded.

Kahlan took aim and shot. He said it was better and told her to try again. She shot a few more arrows, and thought she might have even hit the bundled grass once. She drew the bowstring again, trying to hold the bow steady. Suddenly, he tickled her stomach. She doubled over squealing and laughing, trying to get his fingers off her.

“Stop it!” She laughed breathlessly, trying to twist away from him. “Stop it! Richard! I can’t shoot when you’re doing that!”

He put his fists on his hips. “You have to be able to.”

She frowned up at him as she panted. “What do you mean?”

“Besides being able to hit what you want, you have to be able to shoot no matter what is happening. If you can’t shoot when you’re laughing, how can you shoot when you’re afraid? Just you and the target, that’s all there is. Nothing else matters. You have to be able to block everything else out.

“If a wild boar is charging you, you can’t think about how afraid you are, or what will happen if you miss. You have to be able to make the shot under pressure. Or else have a tree close by you can climb.”

“But, Richard, you can do it because you have the gift. I can’t do that.”

“Nonsense. The gift has nothing to do with it. It’s simple concentration. Here, I’ll talk you through it. Nock an arrow.”

He stood behind her again, pulling her hair off her neck, leaning close, looking over her shoulder, and whispering in her ear as she drew the bowstring back. He whispered what she should feel, how she should breathe, where she should look, what she should see. He talked in a way that made the words melt into nothingness, and instead made images form in her head. Only three things existed: the arrow, the target, and his words. She was in a world of silence.

When everything else winked out, the target seemed to grow larger in her vision, drawing the arrow to it. His words made her feel it, made her do things without understanding them. She relaxed and exhaled, holding herself still without taking another breath. She could feel it, feel the target. She knew when it was time, when it was right.

Lightly, like a breath of air, the arrow left of its own accord, as if it had decided to go on its own. In the quiet, she could see the feathers clear the bow, feel the string hit the bracer; she could see the target pulling the arrow, she could hear the arrow hit the X. She felt air rush back into her lungs.

It was almost like when she released her Confessor’s power. It was magic, Richard’s magic. His words were magic. It was like having a new vision.

She felt as if she were coming awake from a dream. The world came back. She almost fell against him.

Kahlan turned and threw her arms around his neck, still gripping the bow in one hand. “Richard, that was wonderful. The target came to me!”

“See? I told you you could do it.”

She kissed his nose. “I didn’t do it, you did it. I was just holding the bow instead of you.”

He smiled. “No. You did it. I just showed your mind how. That’s what teaching is. I was simply teaching you. Do it again.”

Kahlan had lived around wizards all her life. She knew the way wizards did things. That was the way Richard had done it. He spoke to her the way wizards spoke. It was the gift speaking, she knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

As she shot more arrows, he talked less. Without his words guiding her, it was harder to get the feel, but now and again she did. She could tell when she was doing it herself, without him. It seemed to be as he said, like intense concentration.

As she started to learn to block the world out as she aimed, he began to do things to try to distract her. At first he just rubbed her stomach. It made her smile until he told her to stop thinking about what he was doing and think only about what she must do. After a few hours, she could shoot while he tickled her. Sometimes. It was an exhilarating feeling to be able to feel where the arrow needed to be. She couldn’t do it very often, but when it happened it felt wonderful. Addictive.

“It’s magic,” she told him. “That’s what you’re doing. Magic.”

“No, it’s not. Everyone can do it. Chandalen’s men are doing it when they shoot. Everyone who gets good enough does it. It’s your own mind doing it. I just helped by showing you. If you had practiced long enough, you would have learned it by yourself before now. Just because you don’t know how something is done doesn’t make it magic.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m not so sure. You shoot. Let me tickle you while you try to shoot.”

“After we have something to eat. And you practice some more.”

They flattened a circle of grass, like a nest, and lay on their backs, watching the birds wheel in the sky as they ate tava bread wrapped around greens, handfuls of kuru, and drank water from a skin. The surrounding grass protected them a little, so the wind didn’t feel quite so cold. She laid her head on his shoulder as they watched the sky in silence. She knew they were both wondering what they were going to do.

“Maybe,” Richard said at last, “I could partition my mind again, to control the headaches. Darken Rahl said that was what I had done.”

“You talked to him? You talked to Darken Rahl?”

“Yes. Actually, he did most of the talking. I mostly listened. He told me a lot of things. I don’t believe all of them. He told me George Cypher wasn’t my father. He told me I had partitioned my mind, and that I have the gift. He told me I had been betrayed. Because of what Shota said—that you and Zedd would both use your magic against me—I thought one of you had betrayed us. I never thought of my brother.

“Maybe if I could figure out how to partition my mind again, I could control the headaches so they wouldn’t kill me. Maybe that’s what the Sisters teach. I’ve already done it once, so if I could do it again, I might be able to save myself without . . .”

He rested an arm over his eyes, not wanting to finish the thought out loud. “Kahlan, maybe I don’t have the gift. It could just be the Wizard’s First Rule.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zedd told us that much of what people believe is wrong. The First Rule can make you believe something is true either because you want it to be true, or because you’re afraid it might be. I’m afraid of having the gift, and that fear makes me accept the possibility that what the Sisters say is true. It could be there are other reasons the Sisters want me to think I have the gift, and that it isn’t true. Maybe I don’t have it.”

“Richard, do you really think you can dismiss all the other things that have happened? Zedd said you have the gift, Darken Rahl said you have the gift, the Sisters say you have the gift, even Scarlet says you have the gift.”

“Scarlet doesn’t know what she is talking about, I don’t trust the Sisters, and do you think I would believe anything Darken Rahl said?”

“And what about Zedd? Do you think Zedd is lying? Or that he doesn’t know what he is talking about? You have told me you think he is the smartest man you know. Besides, he is a wizard of the First Order. Do you really think a wizard of the First Order wouldn’t know the gift when he saw it?”

“Zedd could be wrong. Just because he’s smart, that doesn’t mean he knows everything.”

Kahlan thought a while about his reluctance to accept that he had the gift. She wished, for his sake, that it could be the way he wanted it, but she knew the truth.

“Richard, at the People’s Palace, when I touched you with my power, and we all thought it had taken you, and didn’t know you had figured out how not to be consumed by the magic, you recited the Book of Counted Shadows to Darken Rahl, didn’t you?” He nodded. “I couldn’t believe you did that. How did you know it? Where did you ever learn the book?”

Richard sighed. “When I was young, my father took me to a place where he had it hidden. He told me it was being guarded by a beast sent by covetous hands, to watch over it, until that person could come for the book. So he rescued it. I know now that they were the hands of Darken Rahl, but at the time we didn’t know that; my father said he had to take it because otherwise it would be stolen by those hands.

“He feared that person might eventually find it, so he had me memorize it. All of it. He said I had to know every word, so that someday I could return the knowledge to the keeper of the book. He didn’t know that Zedd was the book’s keeper. It took me years to memorize every word of the book. He never looked in it, he said that was for only me to do. After I had learned it all perfectly, we burned the book. I’ll never forget that day. Light and sound and strange forms came forth as the book burned.”

“Magic,” she whispered, knowingly.

He nodded as he rested his wrist over his eyes again. “My father died keeping the book from Darken Rahl. He was a hero. He saved us all by his actions.”

Kahlan tried to think of how to put words to the things she was thinking, the things she knew. “Zedd told us the Book of Counted Shadows was kept in his keep. How did your father get it?”

“He never told me that.”

“Richard, I was born and raised in Aydindril. I spent a good portion of my life in the Wizard’s Keep. It’s a huge fortress. In times long ago, hundreds of wizards lived there. When I grew up, there were only the six, and none were wizards of the First Order.

“It is not an easy place to enter. I was able to because I’m a Confessor, and needed to learn from books kept there. All the Confessors had access to the keep. But it was protected, by magic, from any others entering.”

“If you’re asking, I don’t know how my father did it. He was a pretty smart man; he must have figured it out.”

“If the book was in the Keep itself, maybe. There were wizards and Confessors coming and going, and at times others were permitted to enter. Perhaps someone could have found a way to sneak in. Even once inside, there are areas protected more strongly by magic. Areas even I could not enter.

“But Zedd said the Book of Counted Shadows was an important book of magic, very important. He said he kept it in his keep: the wizard of the First Order’s keep. That is altogether different. It’s separate from the rest, part of the larger Keep, but set off by itself.

“I’ve walked the long ramparts to the First Wizard’s Keep. There is a beautiful view of Aydindril from there. Just walking the ramparts, I could feel the awesome power of the spells that protect that place. It made your skin crawl. If you went close enough, the power of the protection spells made the hair lift off your shoulders and stick out in all directions, popping and snapping with little sparks. If you went closer still, the spells filled you with a sensation of dread so strong you couldn’t force your feet to take another step, or your lungs to draw another breath.

“Since Zedd left the Midlands, before we were born, none had entered the First Wizard’s Keep. The other wizards tried. To enter, there is a plate you must touch. It is said touching the plate is like touching the frozen heart of the Keeper himself. If the magic doesn’t recognize you as one permitted entry, you cannot gain entrance. Touching the plate without at least the protection of your own magic, or even just getting close enough to the spells themselves, can be death.

“Since I was young, and first went to the Keep to learn from the books, the wizards had been trying to get in. They wanted to know what was inside. The First Wizard was gone, and they thought they should take an inventory, thought they should at least know what was in there.

“They never succeeded. Not one of them was ever able to so much as place a hand to the plate. Richard, if five wizards of the Third Order, and one of the Second, could not get in, how did your father?”

He sighed. “I wish I had an answer for you, Kahlan, but I don’t.”

She didn’t want to dash his hopes, give irrefutable life to his fears, but she had to. The truth was the truth. He had to know that truth about himself.

“Richard, the Book of Counted Shadows was a book of instruction for magic. It was magic.”

“I have no doubt of that. I know what I saw when we burned it.”

She stroked the back of his hand with her finger. “There were other books of instruction for magic in the Keep: less important ones. The wizards let me look at them. When I would read them, I would get to a place in the books, and a strange thing would happen, sometimes after only a few words, sometimes after a few pages: I would forget what I had just read. I couldn’t remember a word of it. Not a single word. I would go back and read it again, and the same thing would happen.

“The wizards would smile watching me, and then they would laugh. After a while of trying to read the books, and not knowing what I had just read, I finally got frustrated and asked what was happening. They told me that books of instruction for magic are protected by powerful spells invoked at certain words in the books. They said none but one with the gift could read a book of magic instruction and remember so much as a single word. Those six wizards were wizards by calling, not by the gift. Even they couldn’t read all the books and know what they said, only the less important ones, and only then because of their training.

“Zedd told us that the Book of Counted Shadows was one of the most important books in the Keep, so important it was kept in the First Wizard’s enclave.

“Richard, you would never have been able to memorize it if you didn’t have the gift. There is no other way. Somehow, your father must have known, that is why he chose you to learn it.”

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 how 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 had 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.