Stone of Tears

Chapter 15

Richard fell in beside her without objection. Without speaking, they left the village and went north out onto the flat, open grasslands. As they walked, the sounds of the people and boldas and drums faded steadily into the night. The moon wasn’t near full, but it gave them enough light to see by as they walked through the waist-high, dry grass. She hoped that it was dark enough to make them poor targets.

Richard finally glanced over. “Kahlan, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting who you are. That you are the Mother Confessor, and that this is your job. I was just worried for you.”

She was surprised by his apology. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I just don’t want there to be any fighting. I’m supposed to keep the people of the Midlands from fighting. It makes me angry when they insist on killing one another. Richard, I’m so tired of seeing people killed. I thought it was over. I can’t bear it anymore. I swear I can’t.”

He put an arm around her. “I know. Me, too.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as they walked. “The Mother Confessor will put a stop to it.” He looked over. She thought he was frowning, but it was too dark to be sure. “With my help.”

She grinned. “With your help.” She leaned her head against him a moment. “From now on, always with your help.”

They walked a long way from the village without seeing anything but the black ground and starlit sky. Richard would stop once in a while to watch the surrounding grassland and take out a few of Nissel’s leaves to chew. Sometime past the middle of the night they came to a slight depression in the landscape. He looked around again and then decided they should wait where they were. It would be better for the Bantak to come upon them, he said, than for the two of them to walk into a surprise.

Richard flattened out a small patch of grass and they sat down to wait. They each took turns taking little naps while the other watched to the north. With her hand over his, she watched him sleep and scanned the horizon, and thought about all the times they had done this before, one standing watch, the other sleeping. She longed for the day they could just sleep, and not have to watch. Sleep together. It would happen, she decided, soon enough. Richard would figure out how to close the veil, and then it would be over. They could be at peace.

Kahlan slept nuzzled against him with her cloak wrapped tight against the cold. His warmth made her all the more sleepy. She began to wonder if he was right, if the Bantak would come from the north. If they came from the east, there would be a lot of killing. Chandalen would show no mercy. She didn’t want the Mud People to be hurt, but she didn’t want the Bantak hurt either. They, too, were her people. She drifted into worried sleep, her last thoughts of Richard.

He brought her awake, pressing his arm around her and his hand over her mouth. The sky was just beginning to lighten to their right, to the east. Thin wisps of dark purple clouds bunched near the horizon, as if trying to mask the sunrise with their dark hue. Richard was watching to the north. She was lower than he, and couldn’t see anything, but she knew by the tenseness of his muscles that someone was coming.

They lay still, close to the ground, waiting. Gentle breezes rustled the dry grass around them. Kahlan quietly, slowly, slid the cloak from her shoulders. She didn’t want there to be any mistake about who she was. The Bantak would recognize her long hair, but she wanted them to see her Confessor’s dress, too. She didn’t want there to be any doubt who she was and that she was here as the Mother Confessor. Richard shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. Shadows slid through the grass around them.

When there seemed to be men all around, the two of them stood up. Men with spears and bows closest leapt back and screamed yells of surprise. The Bantak were spread out in a long, thin line, advancing toward the Mud People’s village.

There were excited shouts. Men swept in from the line, a few surrounding them, most bunched in front. Kahlan stood tall, her hands at her sides. She wore her Confessor’s face, a calm that showed nothing, as her mother had taught her. Richard was tight at her side, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Most of the men, in simple hide clothes trimmed with grass, leveled weapons at the two of them. They were clearly nervous about doing so.

“You would dare to threaten the Mother Confessor?” she called out. “Lower your weapons. Now.”

Eyes flicked around, looking to see if the two of them were alone. The men seemed to become less sure about pointing spears and arrows at the Mother Confessor; they were doing something unheard of, and they knew it. They looked as if they couldn’t decide to keep doing what they were doing, or drop their weapons and fall to their knees. A few of them crouched lower, in half bows.

Kahlan took an aggressive stride toward them. “Now!”

The men flinched, cowering back a little. The points of all the weapons moved from her—to Richard. They appeared to hope this would be an acceptable compromise. It was not what she had expected.

She stepped in front of Richard. All the weapons were once again pointing at her.

“What do you think you are doing,” he whispered to the back of her head.

“Just stay quiet. Let me try to do this. We don’t have a chance if we can’t get them to lower their weapons and talk.”

“Why are they doing this? I thought everyone was afraid of the Mother Confessor.”

“They are afraid, but they are used to seeing a wizard with me. They may be more bold because they don’t see one now. Even so, they shouldn’t be doing this.” She took another step forward. “Who speaks for the Bantak? Who among you takes responsibility for allowing the Bantak to threaten the Mother Confessor?”

Not being able to point their weapons at Richard with her in the way, the Bantak lost a bit of their confidence and lowered the points a little. Not all the way, but a little.

At last, an old man approached, pushing through, stopping in front of her. He wore simple hide clothes like the other men, but around his neck hung a gold medallion worked with Bantak symbols. She knew him. He was Ma Ban Grid, the Bantak’s spirit guide. His scowl made his heavily wrinkled loose skin seem even more deeply creased than she remembered. She also didn’t remember him scowling like this; she remembered only his easy smile.

“I speak for the Bantak,” Ma Ban Grid said. He had only two bottom teeth in front. His jaw wobbled easily with the difficult-to-pronounce Bantak words. He glanced at Richard. “Who is this one?”

Kahlan returned Ma Ban Grid’s scowl. “Now Ma Ban Grid would question the Mother Confessor before she is welcomed before his eyes?”

The Bantak men shuffled their feet uneasily. Ma Ban Grid did not. His gaze was solid and unwavering. “These are not right times. These are not our lands. We are not here to welcome visitors before the eyes of the Bantak. We have come to kill the Mud People.”

“Why?”

Ma Ban Grid peered down his nose at her. “They have invited war, as our spirit brethren have warned us they would. They have proven it by killing one of mine. We must kill them before they can kill us all.”

“There will be no war! There will be no killing! I am the Mother Confessor and I will not allow it! The Bantak will suffer by my hand if they do this!”

The band of men broke into worried whispers and moved back a pace. The spirit guide stood his ground.

“The spirit brethren have also told me that the Mother Confessor no longer holds command over the people of the Midlands. They say that as proof, she has been stripped of the company of a wizard.” He gave her a smug look. “I see no wizard. As always, the spirits speak true to Ma Ban Grid.”

Kahlan stared speechless at the old man.

Richard leaned toward her. “What are they saying?” Kahlan told him what Ma Ban Grid had said. He stepped up next to her. “I want to speak to them. Translate for me?”

Kahlan nodded. “They wanted to know who you are. I didn’t tell them.”

Richard’s eyes turned cold with menace. “I will let them know who I am.” His voice took on the same cold quality as his eyes. “And they aren’t going to like it.”

He turned his hawklike glare on the men, deliberately ignoring Ma Ban Grid, and she saw in those eyes the rage of the sword’s magic. He was calling the magic forth even as the sword sat in its scabbard. “You men are following an old fool, an old fool by the name of Ma Ban Grid, who is not wise enough to know true spirits from false spirits.” The men gasped at the insult. Richard turned his penetrating gaze to Ma Ban Grid. “Is this not true, old fool?”

Ma Ban Grid stammered with anger a moment before he could get any words out. “Who are you to dare to insult me like this!”

Richard glared at him. “Your false spirits told you the Mud People killed one of yours. The false spirits lied to you, and you, in your foolishness, believed them.”

“Lie! We found his head! The Mud People killed him! They want war with us! We will kill them all. Every last one! They have killed one of mine!”

“I am growing tired of talking to one as stupid as you, old man. The Bantak are a witless people if they put one such as you in charge of talking to the spirit brethren.”

“Richard, what are you doing?” she whispered.

“Translate.”

When she did, Ma Ban Grid’s face reddened more with each word. He looked ready to burst into flames.

Richard leaned closer to him. “The Mud People didn’t kill the one that was yours. I did.”

“Richard! I can’t tell them that. They will kill us.”

He continued to glare at Ma Ban Grid as he spoke softly to her. “Something is frightening these people into doing this. They are going to kill us and then go and kill a lot of the Mud People unless I can make them even more frightened of us. Translate.”

She let out a noisy breath at him and then told the Bantak what Richard had said. The weapons came back up.

“You! You killed one of mine!”

Richard shrugged. “Yes.” He pointed at his forehead. “I put an arrow right here. One arrow. Right here. Right through his head, as he was about to put his spear in the back of a man. A man who had no hate in his heart for the Bantak. I killed him as I would kill a coyote sneaking up to steal one of my lambs. One who would take a life by such cowardice deserves to die. One who would listen to false spirits, and send one of his own to do such a thing, does not deserve to lead a people.”

“We will kill you!”

“Really? Maybe you will try, but you cannot kill me.” Richard turned his back to the old man and walked about twenty paces away, the men opening up to let him pass. He turned back. “I used one arrow to kill one of yours. Use one arrow to try to kill me, and we will see who the good spirits protect. Pick any man you wish. Have him do to me as I did to yours. Shoot me with an arrow.” He pointed angrily at his forehead again. “Right here, where I shot the coward who would kill for false spirits!”

“Richard! Have you lost your mind? I’m not going to tell them to shoot you.”

“Kahlan, I can do this. I can feel it.”

“You did it once. What if it doesn’t work this time? I’m not going to stand here and let you be killed.”

“Kahlan, if we don’t stop these people, here, now, both of us are going to be killed, and then the Keeper is going to escape. Tonight is the gathering; that is what’s important. I’m using the Wizard’s First Rule; the first step to believing is wanting to believe something is true, or being afraid it is. Up until now, they have been believing something because they wanted to. I have to make them afraid that what I am going to say is true.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Hurry up. Translate before I lose their interest and they decide to kill us and then go after the Mud People.”

She turned back to Ma Ban Grid and, reluctantly, translated. The men all started shouting that they wanted to be the one to shoot the arrow. Ma Ban Grid’s eyes moved among them as they yelled and waved their arms.

He smiled. “All you men may shoot this evil one who has killed one of mine. Everyone! Shoot him!”

The bows came up. Richard glared. “Coward! Do you men see how foolish this old man is? He knows he listens to false spirits! He would have you listen to them also! He knows the good spirits protect me in my challenge. He is afraid to have you see he is a fool. This proves it!”

Ma Ban Grid’s jaw tightened. He held his arm up for his men to halt. At last he turned to a man with a bow and snatched it from his hands. “I will show you the spirits I hear are true! You will die for killing one of mine! For saying our spirit brethren are false spirits!”

He drew a poison arrow back and in a blink shot it at Richard. A cheer rose from the men. Kahlan’s breath caught in her throat. She went cold with fear.

Richard snatched the arrow out of the air right in front of his face.

The men gasped and then fell silent as Richard marched back to the spirit guide, the arrow in his hand, and fire in his eyes. He stopped before Ma Ban Grid and snapped the arrow in front of his face to the sound of fearful murmurs.

His voice was deadly. “The good spirits protect me, old fool. You listen to false spirits.”

“Who are you?” Ma Ban Grid whispered, wide-eyed.

Richard slowly drew the Sword of Truth. The soft ring of steel filled the quiet dawn. He placed the sword’s point at Ma Ban Grid’s throat.

“I am Richard, the Seeker. Mate to the Mother Confessor.” Worried whispers drifted through the cold air. “And, I am a wizard. Her wizard.”

Eyes as far as she could see widened. Jaws dropped. Ma Ban Grid’s face slackened a little. He glanced to the sword.

“Wizard? You?”

“Wizard!” Richard’s angry glare swept across the gathered men. “Wizard. I command the magic. The gift. It would seem, old fool, your false spirits have lied to you. They said the Mother Confessor had no wizard. They sent one of yours to start a war the Mud People do not want. They have used you for their own purposes. Perhaps a wise spirit guide would have known this, perhaps an old fool would not.” Grumbling broke out among the men. “If you persist in this, if you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will use my magic to destroy you. I will use terrible magic to burn the Bantak’s land to ashes and put a blight upon it for all time. Each Bantak will die a horrible death; a death by my magic. I will kill every last Bantak. Young, and old.” His cold gray eyes returned to Ma Ban Grid. “But I will start with the old.”

“Magic?” Ma Ban Grid whispered. “You would kill us with magic?”

Richard leaned closer. “If you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will kill you all with magic more frightful than anything you can imagine.” As the men all listened in rapt attention to her translation, Richard recited a litany of horrors he would bring to them. Most of the things she remembered Zedd telling a mob that had come to kill him when they thought he was a witch. Richard was using the same things now to scare the Bantak. The more he spoke, the wider their eyes became.

Ma Ban Grid’s gaze left the sword and returned to Richard’s face. He looked less sure of himself, but wasn’t entirely ready to concede. “The spirits told me there was no wizard with the Mother Confessor. Why should I believe you are a wizard?”

All of the anger left Richard’s face. She had never seen him hold the sword without the fury of the sword’s magic in his eyes. There did seem to be something in his eyes, but it wasn’t hate, or rage; he looked at peace. Somehow, it was more frightening than the anger. It was the peace of a man committed to a course.

In the dim dawn light, the blade of Richard’s sword changed. It began to glow white. White hot with magic. It brightened until no one could miss seeing the bright white luminescence.

Richard was using the only magic he knew and could depend on. The magic of the sword.

It was enough. Fear swept the crowd. Men fell to their knees, dropping their weapons, muttering for forgiveness, beseeching the spirits to protect them. Others stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

“Forgive me, old man,” Richard whispered, “but I must kill you to save a great many more lives. Know that I forgive you, and regret what I must do.”

As she translated, Kahlan put a hand on Richard’s arm to keep him from doing anything. “Richard, wait. Please, give me a chance?”

He nodded slightly. “One chance. Fail, and I kill him.”

She knew he was trying to scare the Bantak, to break the spell they seemed to be under, but he was scaring her too. He was beyond the rage of the sword, to something worse. She looked back to the spirit guide.

“Ma Ban Grid, Richard will kill you. He does not lie about this. I have asked him to wait, so I may grant you my forgiveness, if you will see the truth of what we say. I can ask him not to kill you, and he will do as I ask. But only once. After that, I will have no control over him. If you are insincere in your change of heart, there will be much death and suffering. Richard is a man of his word. He has made a promise to you, and if you try to trick him with your answer, he will keep his promise.

“I give you this one chance to hear the truth. It is not yet too late. The Mother Confessor does not want any of her people to die. Every life in the Midlands holds dear value in my heart. But sometimes, I must let a few lose their lives, so that many more may live. I will hear your answer.”

The men all stood stooped and still. They looked as if they had gotten themselves into something they no longer wanted. The Bantak were a peaceful people and they seemed to regret their foray, even seemed confused by it. Richard had succeeded in giving them a bigger fright than whatever brought them to this.

The breeze fluttered the dry grass and in its passing pulled a stray wisp of hair across her face. Kahlan reached up and pulled it back as she waited. With eyes that seemed to have gone empty of passion, Ma Ban Grid searched her face. The spell had been broken.

His voice came soft and sincere. “I heard the spirits speak. I thought they were speaking the truth. It is as he says. I am an old fool.” He looked around at his silent men. “The Bantak have never before sought to bring death to others. We will not start now.”

He bowed his head and pulled his medallion over his wispy gray hair. He brought it up in both hands, offering it to her. “Please, Mother Confessor, give this to the Mud People. Tell them it is given in peace. We will start no war with them.” He glanced over. Richard returned the sword to its scabbard. Ma Ban Grid looked back to her. “Thank you for stopping us, far stopping me, from listening to false spirits and doing a terrible thing.”

Kahlan bowed her head to the old man. “I am thankful I was able to serve in time to prevent anyone from being hurt.”

Richard glanced to her. “Ask him how the spirits convinced him to do something against the nature of his people.”

“Ma Ban Grid, how did the spirits put the lust for war in your heart? The lust for killing?”

He stared off, unsure. “Their whispers came to me in the night. Made me feel the need. I have felt an urge to violence before, but never acted on it. This time, it seemed I could not hold it back. I had never felt this need so strongly before.”

“The veil to the underworld, the spirit world, is torn.” Whispers spread back through the men as she told them Richard’s words. “False spirits may seek to speak to you again. Be on guard against them. I understand how you were tricked, and will hold no anger against you for it. But I expect you to be more cautious now that you have learned the truth and have been warned.”

“Thank you, wizard.” Ma Ban Grid nodded. “I will make it so.”

“Did the spirits’ voices tell you anything else?”

The old man frowned in thought. “I don’t really remember their voices telling me what must be done. It was more of a feeling that filled me with the need. My son—he looked up—the one who died . . . he was with me, and heard them also. I felt that the spirits spoke differently to him, somehow. His eyes were wild with hate. Even more than mine. He went as soon as we were visited by the spirits.” His gaze sank to the ground.

Richard regarded the spirit guide a long moment. His voice came softly. “I am sorry, Ma Ban Grid, that I had to kill your son. It wounds my heart to have done so. Know that had there been any other path, I would have taken it.”

The old man nodded, but couldn’t bring forth words. He looked around at his men. He seemed suddenly ashamed. “I don’t know what we are doing here,” he whispered. “This is not the Bantak way.”

“It is the fault of false spirits. I am glad we were here to help you see the truth of it,” Richard said.

He nodded again and turned to his men, looking about at them, and then walked off toward their homeland. Kahlan let out a heavy sigh. Richard watched warily as the Bantak plodded off into the sunrise, dragging spears behind.

“What do you make of that?” she asked when he turned to her at last.

He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword and turned to watch the Bantak. “The Keeper is getting ahead of us.” He looked back to her eyes. “He has taken the effort to discredit you. To discredit the Mother Confessor. He is laying traps for us. He has plans, and I don’t have the slightest idea what they are.”

“What are we going to do?”

“What we planned to do. Tonight we have the gathering, and tomorrow we are married and leave for Aydindril.”

She studied his face. “You really are a wizard,” she said softly. “You used magic to break the Keeper’s spell.”

His expression didn’t change. “No, I’m not. It was just a little trick Zedd taught me. He said once that people are more afraid to die from magic than anything else, as if they would somehow be more dead. I used that fear and the Wizard’s First Rule to make them believe it. It was a stronger fear than the one the spirits gave them.”

“And what of turning the Sword of Truth white?”

He regarded her a long moment. “Do you remember when Zedd showed us how the sword works? How it couldn’t harm anyone you think innocent?” She nodded. “Well, he was wrong. When it is white, you can kill anyone. Anyone. Even one you know to be innocent. Even one you love.” His eyes hardened. “I hate magic.”

“Richard, the gift has just helped you save the lives of many people.”

“At what cost?” he whispered. “Whenever I even think of turning the sword white, all I can remember is how I did it to you, how I almost killed you with it.”

“But you didn’t. Almost doesn’t make bread rise.”

“That doesn’t stop the pain of it. Or of having killed with the sword’s white magic, and of knowing what I am capable of. It makes me feel like a Rahl.” He let out a heavy breath and changed the subject. “I think we had better be very careful at the gathering tonight.”

“Richard . . . this puts a new light on things. We have been warned twice now of the danger of dealing with the spirits. Won’t you reconsider the gathering?”

He looked away. “What choice do I have? The Keeper seems to be ahead of us. Events are moving fast. The more we find out, the more we realize we don’t know. We must learn what we can.”

“But maybe the ancestors’ spirits won’t be able to help us.”

“Then we will have learned something. We can’t pass up the chance; too much is at risk. We have to try.” He gently took her hand. “Kahlan . . . I can’t allow myself to be responsible for this. To know it’s my fault.”

She waited until his eyes came up. “Why? Because Darken Rahl is your father? You think you are responsible because you are a Rahl?”

“Maybe. But Rahl or not, I can’t be responsible for the Keeper having everyone. For having you. I have to find a way to stop it. Darken Rahl haunts me from the grave. Somehow I have caused this. I don’t know how, but it’s my fault. I have to do whatever it takes to stop it, or everyone will suffer. And the Keeper will have you, forever.

“That thought scares me more than anything in my life has ever scared me. It wakes me with nightmares. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to stop him from getting you. I won’t take a chance of missing anything, no matter the risk. I have to have the gathering.” His gaze held hers. “Even though I fear it might be a trap, I have to try.”

“A trap? . . . You think it might be a trap?”

“It could be. We have been warned. At least we can be alert for it.” He looked down at her hand in his. “I won’t have the sword in the gathering. Do you think you can call down the lightning if you have to?”

Kahlan shook her head. “I don’t know, Richard. I don’t know how I did it. It just happened. I don’t know how to control it.”

He nodded as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumbs. “Well, maybe you won’t have to try. Maybe the ancestors’ spirits will be able to help us. They helped us before.”

Richard reached up and gripped the Agiel. His gray eyes were filled with the pain of the headache. He sank down and put his head in his hands as she sat next to him. “I have to rest awhile before we go back. This headache is killing me.”

She feared he was right, that the headache really was killing him. She ached for the next day, when they could get to Zedd, get to help.

It was late afternoon by the time they returned to the celebration, the banquet. Richard’s head was a little better, but still hurt him enough to leave the pain in his eyes. The elders stood as the two of them approached the open pole shelter. The Bird Man stepped forward.

“What of the Bantak? Did you see them? There has been no word from Chandalen.”

Kahlan held the gold medallion out to him and let it drop in his hand when it came up.

“We found them, to the north, as Richard said we would. Ma Ban Grid sent this as a gift to tell the Mud People that the Bantak will not make war with them. They made a mistake, and are sorry. We made them see that the Mud People mean them no harm. Chandalen has also made a mistake.”

The Bird Man nodded solemnly, and turned to a hunter standing nearby, telling him to bring back Chandalen and his men. Kahlan didn’t think he looked as pleased as she thought he would be.

“Honored elder, is something wrong?”

His brown eyes seemed heavy. He glanced to Richard and back to her. “Two of the Sisters of the Light have returned. They wait in the spirit house.”

Kahlan’s heart jumped. She had hoped they wouldn’t be back so soon. What had it been, only a few days? She turned to Richard.

“The Sisters of the Light are waiting in the spirit house.”

Richard sighed. “Nothing is ever easy.” He addressed the Bird Man. “Tonight is the gathering. Will you be ready?”

“Tonight the spirits will be with us. We will be ready.”

“Be careful. Take nothing for granted. All our lives depend on it.” He took her arm. “Let’s see if we can put a stop to this.”

They walked together across the field, past the roar of the fires. People were still everywhere, eating, dancing, playing the boldas and drums. There were fewer children about. Some were off napping, but some still managed to dance and play.

“Three days,” he muttered.

“What?”

“It’s been three days, almost, since they were here last. I will send them away, and tomorrow, we will be gone. When they come back in another three days, we will have been in Aydindril for two.”

She stared ahead as they walked. “That is if they keep to the same schedule. Who says they won’t show up for the third time after only one day. Or one hour.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look over when he spoke. “Are you trying to make a point?”

“You only get three chances, Richard. I’m afraid for you. I’m afraid of the headaches.”

This time, she did look over, but he didn’t. “I won’t wear a collar. Not for any reason. Not for anyone.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He yanked the door open and strode into the spirit house. His jaw was set with determination. His eyes fixed on the two women standing in the center of the dimly lit room as he marched up to them. Both wore their cloaks with the hoods pushed back. Their faces, in mild frowns, seemed almost calm.

Richard stopped in front of the two. “I have questions, and I want answers.”

“We are glad to see you are still well, Richard,” Sister Verna said. “Still alive.”

“Why did Sister Grace kill herself? Why did you allow it?”

Sister Elizabeth stepped in front of Sister Verna. She held the open collar in her hands. “We told you before, discussion is over. It is by the rules now.”

“I have rules too.” With his fists on his hips, he looked to each woman in turn. “My first rule is that neither of you is going to kill herself today.”

They ignored him. “You will listen. I, Sister of the Light, Elizabeth Myric, give the second reason for the Rada’Han, give the second chance to be helped. The first of the three reasons for the Rada’Han is to control the headaches and open your mind so you may be taught to use the gift. You have refused the first chance to be helped. I bring the second reason and offer.”

She watched his eyes as if to be sure she had his full attention. “The second reason for the Rada’Han is so that we can control you.”

Richard glared at her. “Control me? What does that mean, to control me?”

“It means what it says.”

“I’m not putting a collar around my neck so you can ‘control’ me.” He leaned a little closer. “Or for any other reason.”

Sister Elizabeth held the collar up. “As you were told before, it is more difficult for you to accept the second offer. Please believe us, you are in great danger. Your time is running out. Please Richard, accept the second offer now, on the second of the three reason and offers. It will only be much more difficult to accept on the third of the three reasons.”

There was something in his eyes Kahlan had seen only once before—the last time the collar was held out to him. Something alien, something frightening. It sent a chill through her. Goose bumps rose on her arms. The anger left his voice.

“I told you before,” he whispered. “I will not wear a collar. For anyone. For any reason. If you want to teach me to use the gift, to control it, we can talk about it. There are things going on you know nothing about: important things, dangerous things. I have responsibilities as the Seeker. I am not a child like you are used to dealing with. I am an adult. We can talk about it.”

Sister Elizabeth stared at him with fierce intensity. Richard retreated a half step. His eyes closed, and he shook slightly. At last, he straightened. His eyes came open as he took a deep breath. He returned the Sister’s stare. Something had happened, and Kahlan had no idea what it was.

The strength in Sister Elizabeth’s eyes waned. Her hands lowered the collar. Her voice came in a fearful whisper. “Will you accept the offer and the Rada’Han?”

Richard stood staring at her. The power was back in his voice. “I refuse.”

Sister Elizabeth went pale as she stared back for a moment before turning to the woman behind her. “Forgive me, Sister, I have failed.” She put the Rada’Han in Sister Verna’s outstretched hand. Her voice came in a whisper. “It is upon you now.”

Sister Verna kissed her on each cheek. “The Light forgives you, Sister.”

Sister Elizabeth turned back to Richard, her face gone slack. “May the Light cradle you always with gentle hands. May you someday find the way.”

Richard stood with his fists on his hips as he watched her eyes. She lifted her chin. As Sister Grace had done, she brought her arm up and with a flick of her wrist brought the silver-handled knife to her hand. Richard continued to watch her as she flipped it around toward herself. Kahlan watched, holding her breath, spellbound, as the woman prepared to kill herself. The silence seemed thick. For a heartbeat, everyone was stone still.

The instant the knife began to move, Richard did too. His speed was shocking. Before Sister Elizabeth realized what had happened, Richard had her by her wrist. His other hand came up and began prying the odd knife from her fingers as she struggled to keep ahold of it. She was no match for his strength.

“I told you my rule. You are not allowed to kill yourself today.”

Her face twisted with futile effort. “Please! Let go—”

Her body flinched. Her head jerked back. There was a flash of light that seemed to come from within her, from within her eyes. Sister Elizabeth crumpled forward to the ground, Sister Verna pulling her own knife from the woman’s back as she fell.

Sister Verna’s gaze rose from the dead woman to Richard. “You must bury her body yourself. If you let another do it for you, you will have nightmares for the rest of your life, nightmares caused by magic. There is no cure for them.”

“You killed her! You murdered her! What’s the matter with you! How could you kill her!”

She tucked her knife up her sleeve as she glared at him. She reached out, snatched the silver knife from his hand, and slipped it in her cloak.

“You killed her,” Sister Verna whispered.

“Your hands have the blood on them!”

“So does the executioner’s axe, but it doesn’t wield itself.”

Richard lunged for her throat. She didn’t move; she simply continued to stare at him. His hands stopped before reaching her. Richard shook, straining against an invisible barrier as she watched him.

In that instant, Kahlan knew what the Sisters were.

Richard relaxed the pressure of pushing against the barrier. He pulled his hands back a little. He visibly relaxed.

Gently, his face gone calm, he reached one hand toward Sister Verna. His fingers clutched around her throat. Her eyes went wide with shock.

“Richard,” she whispered angrily, “take your hand from me.”

“As you have said, this is no game. Why did you kill her?”

His weight came off his feet. Richard floated a few inches into the air. He tightened his grip on her throat. When he didn’t release her, fire ignited all around them, roaring to life, a whorl of flame closing around him.

“I said, take your hand from me.”

In a moment more, the fire would consume Richard. Before she realized what she was doing, Kahlan had her fist out toward the Sister. Blue light crackled all around her wrist and hand. Little threads of blue lightning escaped from the sides as she struggled to restrain herself from releasing the bolt of power. Wisps of blue fire sizzled forth, throughout the spirit house, up the walls, across the ceiling and floor, everywhere except where the other two stood. She shook with the strain of holding back the power.

“Stop it!” The threads of blue lightning sucked the fire into them. “There will be no more killing today.” The blue light extinguished.

Silence again filled the room as Sister Verna stared at Kahlan. A hard edge of anger stole into her eyes. Richard settled to the ground and took his hand from the woman’s throat.

“I wouldn’t have harmed him. I only meant to frighten him into releasing me.” She turned her glare to Richard. “Who taught you to break a web?”

“No one taught me. I taught myself. Why did you kill Sister Elizabeth!”

“You taught yourself,” she mocked. “I told you. This is no game. It must go by the rules.” Her voice lost its edge. “I have known her for many years. If you had ever turned that sword of yours white, you would understand what it took for me to do as I did.”

Richard didn’t tell her he had turned the sword white. “You would expect me to put myself in your hands, after what you have done?”

“Your time is running out, Richard. After what I have seen today, I would be surprised if the headaches don’t soon kill you. I don’t know why it is that the pain hasn’t already put you down. Whatever is protecting you won’t last much longer. I know you don’t like to see anyone die. Neither do we, but please believe that what is done is done for you, to save you.”

She turned to Kahlan. “Be very careful with that power of yours, Mother Confessor. I doubt you have the slightest idea how dangerous it is.” Sister Verna pulled her hood up as her brown eyes turned to Richard. “You have been offered the first and second of three chances, and refused. I will return.” She leaned a little closer. “You only have one chance left. If you refuse it, you will die. Think on it carefully, Richard.”

After the door closed behind Sister Verna, Richard squatted next to the dead Sister. “She was doing something to me. Magic. I could feel it.”

“What did it feel like?”

Richard shook his head a little. “The first time they were here, I thought I felt something pulling me to accept their offer, but I was so afraid of the collar, I paid it no attention. This time, it was much stronger. It was magic. The magic was trying to force me to say yes, to accept the offer from the Sisters. I just thought about the collar until the force left and I was able to say no.”

He looked up at her. “You have any idea what’s going on? What she was doing, and what Sister Verna did, with the fire, and the rest of it?”

Kahlan’s hand still tingled from the blue lightening. “Yes. The Sisters are sorceresses.”

Richard rose smoothly to his feet. “Sorceresses.” He watched her eyes for a long moment. “Why would they kill themselves when I said no?”

“I think it is to pass their power on to the next Sister, to make her stronger for when they try again.”

He looked down at the body. “Why would I be so important, that they would kill themselves to get me?”

“Maybe it is as they say. To help you.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “They don’t want one man, a stranger, to die, yet two of them have already died trying to get me to accept their help so a life wouldn’t be lost? How does that add up?”

“I don’t know, Richard, but I’m so scared it hurts. I’m afraid they could be telling the truth: that you don’t have much time, and the headaches are killing you. I’m afraid you won’t be able to control them much longer.” Her voice broke with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Richard slipped his arms around her. “It will be all right. I will bury her. The gathering will be in a few hours. Tomorrow we will be in Aydindril and then I will be safe. Zedd will know what to do.”

She could only nod against his shoulder.