Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 27

Laughter and the sound of drums drifted from the center of the village as Richard and Kahlan walked among the huddled, dark buildings. Black skies held back their rain, and the damp, warm air brought in the smell of the wet grasses that surrounded the village. Torches lit the platforms of the pole buildings, and large fires set about the open area snapped and popped, throwing off fluttering shadows. Kahlan knew it was a lot of work to haul in wood for cooking and kiln fires, and most were kept small. This was an extravagance the Mud People rarely witnessed.

Wonderful aromas from the cooking fires drifted to her through the night air, but failed to spark her appetite. Women dressed in their brightest dresses rushed around, with young girls at their sides, tending to errands, seeing to it that all went well. The men wore their finest skins, ceremonial knives hung at their waists, and their hair was slicked down with sticky mud in traditional fashion.

Cooking went on nonstop as people wandered by, sampling the fare, talking, sharing stories. Most people, it seemed, were either cooking or eating. There were children everywhere, playing and running and laughing, overflowing with excitement at the unexpected nighttime, firelit gathering.

Under grass roofs, musicians pounded drums and scraped paddles up and down ripples carved on boldas, long bell-shaped hollow tubes. The eerie strains, music meant to call ancestors spirits to the banquet, carried far out into the grasslands. Other musicians sat on the opposite side of the open area, the sound of the two groups sometimes joining, sometimes separating, calling to one another in haunting and occasionally frantic beats and knells. Men in costume, some dressed as animals, others painted as stylized hunters, jumped and danced, acting out stories of Mud People legends. Gleeful children surrounded the dancers imitating them and stamping their feet in time with the drumming. Young couples off in darker areas watched the activities as they nuzzled close together. Kahlan had never felt so alone.

Savidlin, his freshly cleaned coyote hide around his shoulders found her and Richard, and dragged them off, slapping Richard’s back the whole way, to sit with the elders under their shelter. The Bird Man was dressed in his usual, plain buckskin pants and tunic. He was important enough not to have to wear anything more. Weselan was there, as were the wives of the other elders and she came to sit next to Kahlan, taking her hand and asking with sincere concern how her arm was. Kahlan wasn’t used to having people care about her. It felt good to be one of the Mud People, even if it was only pretense. Pretense, because she was a Confessor, and as much as she wished it otherwise right now it was not, and no decree could make it so. She did as she had learned to do at a young age: she put her emotions away, and thought about the job that lay ahead, about Darken Rahl and how little time they had left. And she thought about Dennee.

Richard, resigned to the fact that they would have to wait an other day for the gathering, tried to make the best of it, smiling and nodding at chattered advice he couldn’t understand. People streamed past the elders’ shelter in a steady procession, to greet the newest Mud People with gentle slaps. In all fairness, Kahlan had to admit that they paid as much regard to her as to Richard.

Woven trays and pottery bowls filled with various foods lay on the floor in front of where they sat cross-legged, greeting people, some of whom sat with them for a time. Richard sampled most of the food, remembering to use his right hand. Kahlan nibbled on a piece of tava bread so as not to appear impolite.

“This is good,” Richard said, taking another rib. “I think it’s pork.’’

“It is wild boar,” she said, watching the dancers.

“And the venison, it’s good too. Here, have a piece.” He tried to hand her a strip.

“No. Thank you.”

“You all right?”

“Fine. I’m just not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten any meat since we’ve been with the Mud People.”

“I’m just not hungry, that’s all.”

He shrugged and ate the venison.

After a time, the crowd of people greeting them thinned out, finally going off to other activities. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Bird Man raise his hand in a signal to someone in the distance. Kahlan put a brake to her feelings, and made her face betray nothing of the effort, as her mother had taught her: a Confessor’s face.

Four young women, all with shy smiles and short hair slicked down with mud, timidly approached. Richard greeted them with smiles and nods and gentle slaps, as he had the other people. They stood, pushing against each other, giggling, whispering how fine he was to look upon. Kahlan glanced back at the Bird Man. He gave her a single nod.

“Why aren’t they leaving?” Richard asked out of the side of his mouth. “What do they want?”

“They are for you,” she said in an even voice.

The flickering firelight lit his face as he looked blankly at the four women. “For me. And what am I to do with them?”

Kahlan took a deep breath as she looked at the fires for a moment. “I am only your guide, Richard. If you need instruction in this, you will have to seek it elsewhere.”

There was a moment of silence.

“All four? For me?”

She turned back to him and saw a mischievous grin spreading on his face. She found his smile irritating.

“No, you are to pick one.”

“Pick one?” he repeated, the stupid grin still on his face.

She consoled herself with the fact that at least he wasn’t going to cause trouble over this part. He looked from one girl to another.

“Pick one. Now that will be hard. How long do I have to decide?”

She looked off at the fire again and closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to the Bird Man. “The Seeker wishes to know when he must decide which woman to pick.”

The Bird Man looked a little surprised by the question. “Before he goes to his bed. Then he must pick one, and give our people his child. In that way he will be joined to us by blood.”

She told him what the Bird Man said.

Richard considered carefully what he was told. “Very wise.” He looked back at the Bird Man and smiled and nodded. “The Bird Man is very wise.”

“The Seeker says you are very wise,” she said to him, trying to control her voice.

The Bird Man and the other elders seemed pleased. Events were going as they wished.

“Well, this will be a difficult decision. I’ll have to think about it. It’s not something I want to rush into.”

Kahlan pushed some of her hair back and turned to the girls.

“The Seeker is having difficulty deciding.”

He gave the four a big grin and eagerly motioned them up on the platform. Two sat to the far side of him, the other two squeezed between Kahlan and Richard, forcing her to move over as they sat down. They leaned against him, putting their hands on his arms, and felt his muscles as they giggled. They commented to Kahlan about how big he was, like her, and how he would make big children. They wanted to know if he thought they were pretty. Kahlan said she didn’t know. They begged her to ask him.

She took another deep breath. “They want to know if you think they are pretty.”

“Of course! They’re beautiful! All of them. That’s why I can’t decide. Don’t you think they’re beautiful?”

She didn’t answer his question, instead assuring the four that the Seeker found them appealing. They gave their typical shy laughs. The Bird Man and the elders seemed pleased. They were still all smiles—they were in control of events. She stared numbly at the celebration, watched the dancers without seeing them.

The four girls fed Richard with their fingers and giggled. He told Kahlan it was the best banquet he had ever been to, and asked if she didn’t think so, too. She swallowed the lump in her throat and agreed it was wonderful as she looked away blankly, at the fiery sparks swirling up into the blackness.

After what seemed like hours, an older woman with her head bowed approached carrying a large round woven tray in front of her. It was neatly arranged with dark strips of dried meat.

Kahlan snapped out of her distant thoughts.

With her head still bowed, the woman respectfully approached the elders, silently offering each the tray. Then Bird Man took some first, pulling off a piece with his teeth as each of the other elders took a strip. A few of the wives took some as well. Weselan, sitting beside her husband, declined.

The woman held the tray in front of Kahlan. She politely declined. The woman held the tray out to Richard. He took a strip. The four young women shook their bowed heads, declining, then watched Richard. Kahlan waited until he took a bite, met the Bird Man’s eyes briefly, then turned once more to watch the fires.

“You know, I’m having a hard time deciding which one of these fine young women to pick,” Richard said after he swallowed the first bite. “Do you think you could help me, Kahlan? Which one should I choose? What do you think?”

Struggling to slow her breathing, she looked over at his grinning face. “You are right, it is a difficult choice. I think I would rather leave it to you.”

He ate some more meat as she clenched her teeth and swallowed hard.

“This is kind of strange, I’ve never had anything like it before.” He paused, his voice changed. “What is it?” The question had an edge to it that frightened her, almost made her jump. He had a threatening, hard look in his eyes. She hadn’t intended to tell him, but the way he looked at her made her forget that pledge.

She asked the Bird Man, then turned back to him. “He says it is a firefighter.”

“A firefighter.” Richard leaned forward. “What kind of animal is a firefighter?” Kahlan looked into his piercing gray eyes. In a soft voice she answered, “One of Darken Rahl’s men.”

“I see.” He leaned back.

He knew. She realized he had known before he asked her the question. He wanted to see if she would lie to him.

“Who are these firefighters?”

She asked the elders how they had come to know about the firefighters. Savidlin was only too eager to tell the story. When he finished, she turned back to Richard.

“Firefighters are enforcers who travel the country to bring Rahl’s decree that people are not allowed to use fire. They can be quite brutal in their task. Savidlin says two of them came here a few weeks back, told them fire was outlawed, and then threatened them when the Mud People wouldn’t agree to follow the new law. They feared the two would go back and bring more men . . . So they killed them. The Mud People believe they can gain their enemies’ wisdom by eating them. To be a man among the Mud People, to be one of them, you must eat it also, so you will have the knowledge of their enemies. It is the main purpose of banquets. That, and to call the ancestors’ spirits.”

“And have I eaten enough of it to satisfy the elders?” The expression in his eyes cut through her.

She wished she could run away. “Yes.”

With deliberate care, Richard laid down the piece of flesh. The smile returned to his lips, and he looked to the four young women as he spoke to her, wrapping his arms around the two closest to him.

“Kahlan, do me a favor. Go and get me an apple out of my pack. I feel like I need something familiar to clear this taste out of my mouth.”

“Your legs work,” she snapped.

“Yes, but I need to devote some time to deciding which one of these beautiful young women I will lie with.”

Rising to her feet, she shot the Bird Man a furious glare, and then stormed off toward Savidlin’s house. She was glad to be away from Richard, to be away from watching those girls pawing him.

Her fingernails dug into her palms, but she didn’t notice as she marched past the happy people. The dancers danced, the drummers drummed, the children laughed. People she passed wished her well. She wanted one of them to say something mean so she would have an excuse to hit someone.

When she reached Savidlin’s house, she went inside and flopped down on the skin that covered the floor, trying unsuccessfully to keep from crying. Just a few minutes, she told herself, that was all she needed to bring herself back under control. Richard was doing what the Mud People demanded, what she herself had promised the Bird Man he would do. She had no right to be angry, none at all—Richard was not hers. She cried with deep pain. She had no right to feel this way, no right to be angry with him. But she was—she was furious.

She remembered what she had told the Bird Man—trouble of her own making, with consequences she must bear, and feared greatly.

Richard was just doing what was necessary to get a gathering, what was necessary to find the box and stop Rahl. Kahlan wiped the tears from her eyes.

But he didn’t have to be so delighted about it. He could do it without acting like . . .

She snatched an apple from his pack. What did it matter? She couldn’t change the way things were. But she didn’t have to be happy about it. She bit her lip as she stomped out the door, trying to make her face once again show nothing. At least it was dark.

When she had crossed the gauntlet of celebration, she found Richard with his shirt off. The girls were painting him with Mud People symbols of the hunter. Their fingers were applying the black and white mud in jagged lines across his chest, in rings around his upper arms. They stopped when she stood over them, glaring down.

“Here.” She slapped the apple in his hand and sat down in a huff.

“I still haven’t been able to decide,” he said, polishing the apple on his pants leg, looking from one girl to another. “Kahlan, are you sure you don’t have a preference? I could use your help.” His voice lowered meaningfully, the hard edge returning. “I’m surprised you didn’t just pick one for me in the first place.”

Stunned, her eyes came up to his. He knew. He knew this, too, was a commitment she had made on his behalf. “No. Whatever you decide will be fine, I’m sure.” She looked away again.

“Kahlan,” he asked, waiting until she turned back to him, “are any of these girls related to the elders?”

She looked again at their faces. “The one at your right arm. The Bird Man is her uncle.

“Uncle!” His smile widened as he continued to polish the apple on his leg. “Well, then, I guess I’ll pick her. It will be a sign of respect for the elders, that I pick the Bird Man’s niece.”

He took the girl’s head in both of his hands, kissing her on the forehead. She beamed. The Bird Man beamed. The elders beamed. The other girls left.

Kahlan glanced back at the Bird Man, and he gave her a look of sympathy, a look that said he was sorry. She turned, staring absently, painfully, out into the night. So now Richard had picked. So now, she thought bleakly, the elders would perform a ceremony and the happy couple would be going off somewhere to make a baby. She watched the other couples walking, hand in hand, happy to be together. Kahlan swallowed back the lump, the tears. She heard the snap as Richard bit into his stupid, stupid apple.

And then she heard a collective gasp from the elders and their wives, then shouts.

The apple! In the Midlands, red fruit was poison! They didn’t know what an apple was! They thought Richard was eating poison! She spun around.

Richard was holding his arm back to the elders, commanding silence, and for them to stay put. But he was looking right into her eyes.

“Tell them to sit down,” he said in a quiet voice.

Wide-eyed, she looked back at the elders and told them what Richard had said. They lowered themselves uncertainly back in place. He leaned back, turning casually to them, an innocent expression on his face.

“You know, back in Hartland, in Westland, where I am from, we eat these things all the time.” He took a couple more bites. Their eyes were wide. “Have for as long as anyone knows. Men and women both eat them. We have healthy children.” He snapped off another piece, turning and watching her as she translated. He chewed slowly, prolonging the tension. He looked over his shoulder at the Bird Man. “ ’Course, it could be that it makes a man’s seed poison to any woman other than one of our own. Never been put to the test, far as I know.”

He let his gaze settle back on Kahlan as he took another bite, letting his words sink in after she translated. The girl next to him was getting nervous. The elders were getting nervous. The Bird Man showed no emotion. Richard had his arms half folded, one elbow resting in his other hand, so he could hold the apple near his mouth, where everyone could see it. He started to take a bite, then stopped, thinking to offer a bite to the Bird Man’s niece. She turned her head away. He looked back at the elders.

“I find them quite good. Really.” He shrugged. “But then, there is the thing about them maybe making my seed poison. But I don’t want you to think I’m not willing to try. I just thought you should know, that’s all. I wouldn’t want it to be said I wasn’t willing to go along with the duties that go with becoming a Mud Person. I am. More than willing.” He ran the back of his finger down the girl’s cheek. “I assure you, it would be an honor. This fine young woman will make a splendid mother for my child, I am sure.” Richard let out a sigh. “If she lives, of course.” He took another bite.

The elders looked apprehensively from one to another. None spoke. The mood on the platform had definitely changed. They were no longer in control—Richard was. It had happened in a blink. They were now afraid to move much more than their eyes. Without looking at them, Richard went on.

“ ’Course, it’s up to you. I’m willing to give it a try, but I thought you should know of the ways of my homeland. I didn’t think it would be fair not to tell you.” Now Richard turned to them, his eyebrows set in a menacing frown, his voice carrying a thread of threat. “So, if the elders, in their wisdom, wish to ask me not to perform this duty, I will understand, and with regret, comply with their wishes.”

He held them in his hard gaze. Savidlin grinned. The other five were of no mind to challenge Richard, and turned to the Bird Man beseeching direction. He sat still, a bead of sweat rolling down the leathery skin of his neck, silver hair limp on the buckskin shoulders of his tunic, holding Richard’s eyes for a short time. His mouth turned up in a small smile that showed in his eyes, too, and he nodded slightly to himself.

“Richard With The Temper,” his voice was even, and strong, for not only the elders, but also the crowd that had gathered around the platform, were listening, “since you are from a different land, and your seed could be poisonous to this young woman . . .” he lifted one eyebrow, leaning the slightest bit forward, “. . . my niece,” he looked to her, then back to Richard, “we beg that you not hold us to this tradition—that you not take her as your wife. I am sorry to have to ask this of you. I know you were looking forward to giving us your child.”

Richard nodded seriously. “Yes, I was. But I will just have to live with my failing, and try to make the Mud People, my people, proud of me in other ways.” He was closing the deal with a condition of his own: they were not going to be allowed to back out now—he was a Mud Person and this would not change it.

There was a collective sigh of relief from the other elders. They all nodded, only too happy to have the matter settled to his liking. The young woman smiled with relief at her uncle and left. Richard turned to Kahlan—his face showed no emotion.

“Are there any other conditions that I don’t know about?”

“No.” Kahlan felt confused. She didn’t know if she felt happy because Richard had gotten out of taking a wife, or if she was heartbroken because he felt she had betrayed him.

He turned to the elders. “Is my presence required any longer tonight?”

The five were delighted to grant him his wish to leave. Savidlin seemed a little disappointed. The Bird Man said that the Seeker had been a great savior of his people, had performed his duties with honor, and that if he was tired from the struggles of the day, he could be excused.

Richard stood slowly, towering over her. His boots were right in front of her. Kahlan knew he was looking down at her, but she fixed her eyes on the floor.

“Piece of advice,” he said in a voice that surprised her with its gentleness, “since you have never had a friend before. Friends don’t bargain away another friend’s rights. Or their hearts.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.

He dropped the apple core in her lap and walked off, disappearing in the crowd.

Kahlan sat on the elders’ platform, in a fog of loneliness, watching her fingers shake. The others watched the dancers. With supreme effort she counted the drumbeats and used the count to help her control her breathing and keep from crying. The Bird Man came and sat next to her. She found herself cheered by the company.

He raised an eyebrow to her, leaning closer. “Someday, I would like to meet the wizard who named that one. I would like to know where he finds such Seekers.”

Kahlan was surprised she could still laugh.

“Someday,” she said, smiling at him, “if I live, and we win, I promise I will bring him here, to meet you. In many ways, he is as remarkable as Richard.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I shall hone my wits to defend myself in the encounter.”

She leaned her head against him and laughed until she started to cry. He put his aria protectively around her shoulders.

“I should have listened to you,” she sobbed. “I should have asked him his wishes. I had no right to do as I did.”

“Your desire to stop Darken Rahl made you do what you thought necessary. Sometimes, making the wrong choice is better than making no choice. You have the courage to go forward, that is rare. A person who stands at the fork, unable to pick, will never get anywhere.”

“But it hurts so much to have him angry at me,” she cried.

“I will tell you a secret you might not otherwise learn until you are too old to benefit from the knowledge.” Wet eyes looked up at his smile. “It hurts him just as much to be angry at you, as it hurts you when he is that angry.”

“Really?”

He laughed silently and nodded. “Take it on faith, child.”

“I had no right, I should have seen that before. I am so sorry l did it.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell him.”

She pushed away, looking at his weathered face. “l think I will. Thank you, honored elder.”

“And while you are offering apologies, offer mine also.”

Kahlan frowned. “For what?”

He sighed. “Being old, being an elder, does not exclude you from holding foolish ideas. Today, I too made a mistake, for Richard, and for my niece. I, too, had no right. Thank him for me, for keeping me from imposing deeds I should have questioned, but did not.” He took his whistle from around his neck. “Give him this gift, with my thanks, for opening my eyes. May it serve him well. Tomorrow, I will show him how to use it.”

“But, you need it to call the birds.”

He smiled. “I have others. Go now.”

Kahlan took the whistle, clutching it tightly in her hand. She wiped the tears from her face. “In my whole life, I’ve hardly ever cried. Since the boundary to D’Hara came down, it seems as if that’s all I do.”

“We all do, child. Go.”

She kissed his cheek quickly and left. Searching the open areas, she found no sign of Richard. People she asked hadn’t seen him. She walked around in circles, looking. Where was he? Children tried to draw her into their dancing, people offered her food, others wanted to talk to her. She politely turned them all down.

At last she went off to Savidlin’s home, deciding that that was where he would be. But the house was empty. She sat down on the floor skin, thinking. Would he leave without her? Her heart panicked. Her eyes searched around the floor. No. His pack was still there, where she had left it when she had gotten him the apple. Besides, he wouldn’t leave before the gathering.

Then it came to her. She knew where he was. She smiled to herself, took an apple out of his pack, and headed through the dark walkways between the buildings of the Mud People’s village, headed for the spirit house.

Light flared suddenly in the darkness, lighting the walls around her. At first, she didn’t realized what it was—then, looking out between the buildings, she saw lightning. Lightning at the horizon, in every direction, all around, lacing its angry fingers into the sky, into the dark clouds, lighting them from inside with boiling colors. There was no thunder. And then it was gone, leaving darkness once more.

Was there no end to this weather, she wondered. Would she ever again see stars, or the sun? Wizards and their clouds, she thought, shaking her head. She wondered if she would ever see Zedd again. At least the clouds protected Richard from Darken Rahl.

The spirit house sat in the dark, away from the sound and activity of the banquet. Cautiously, Kahlan pulled back the door. Richard sat on the floor in front of the fire, his sword, in its scabbard, lay at his side. He didn’t turn at the sound.

“Your guide wishes to speak with you,” she said meekly.

The door squeaked closed behind her as she kneeled down, sitting back on her heels next to him, her heart pounding.

“And what does my guide wish to tell me?” He smiled, she thought in spite of himself.

“That she made a mistake,” she said softly, picking at a string on her pants. “And that she is sorry. Very, very sorry. Not just for what she did, but mostly for not trusting you.”

The insides of his elbows were hooked around his knees, one hand holding the other. He turned to face her, the warm, red glow of firelight reflecting in his gentle eyes.

“I had a whole speech rehearsed in my mind. But now I can’t remember a word of it. You have that effect on me.” He smiled again. “Apology accepted.”

Relief swept through her. She felt as if her heart were mending. From under her eyebrows, she looked up at him. “Was it a good speech?”

His grin widened. “It seemed so at the time, but now I don’t think so.”

“You are pretty good at speeches. You nearly scared the wits out of the elders, including the Bird Man.” Reaching out, she placed the whistle over his head, around his neck.

Unclasping his hands, he touched it with his fingers. “What’s this for?”

“It is a gift from the Bird Man, with his apology for what he tried to make you do. He said he, too, had no right, and wishes to thank you, with this gift, for opening his heart’s eyes. Tomorrow he will teach you to use it.” Kahlan turned to sit with her back to the fire, facing him, close against him. It was a warm night, and with the heat of the fire, Richard glistened with sweat. The symbols painted across his chest and around his upper arms gave him a wild, savage appearance. “You have a way of opening people’s eyes,” she said in a coy voice. “I think you must have used magic.”

“Maybe I did. Zedd says that sometimes a trick is the best magic.”

The sound of his voice resonated with something deep inside her, made her feel weak. “And Adie said you have the magic of the tongue,” she whispered.

The look in his gray eyes penetrated her, impaling her with its power, making her breathing quicken. Haunting sounds of the boldas carried in from the distance, mingling with the sound of the fire, of his breathing. She had never felt this safe, this relaxed, and this tense, all at the same time. It was confusing.

Her gaze wandered from his eyes, feasting on other places on his face: the shape of his nose, the angle of his cheeks, the line of his chin. Her eyes stopped on his lips. Suddenly she was aware of how hot it was in the spirit house. She felt lightheaded.

Probing his gaze again, she withdrew the apple from her pocket and took a slow, juicy bite, dragging her teeth across the meat. The iron look in his eyes never wavered. Fluidly, impulsively, she put the apple to his mouth and held it there as he took a big, wet bite. If only it were possible for him to put his lips on her like that, she thought.

And why not? Was she to die in this quest without being allowed to be a woman? Must she be only a warrior? Fight for everyone’s happiness but her own? Seekers, in the best of times, died all too quickly, and these were not the best of times.

These were the end of times.

She ached at the thought of him dying.

She pushed the apple harder against his teeth as she watched his eyes. Even if she took him, she reasoned, he could still fight on, at her side, maybe with even more resolve than he had now.

It would be for different reasons, but he would be just as deadly, maybe more so. He would be different, though, not the same person he was now. That person would be gone forever.

But at least he would be hers. She wanted him so desperately, in a way she had never wanted anything before, a way that was painful. Were they both to die without being allowed to live? She felt a tingling weakness with the need of him.

Teasingly, she took the apple from his mouth. Juice ran down his chin. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned over and licked the sweet juice from his chin. He didn’t move. Their faces were inches apart—she shared his breath, quick and warm. So close was she that her eyes could scarcely focus on his. She had to swallow the wetness in her mouth.

Reason was rapidly evaporating from her mind, being replaced with feelings that tantalized her with promise, gripped her with hot need.

She released the apple, brought her wet fingers to his lips, and watched, her own tongue on her upper lip, as he let each finger slide into his mouth, slowly sucking the juice from them one at a time as she offered them. The feeling of the inside of his mouth, wet and warm, sent shivers through her.

A small sound escaped her lips. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her chest heaved. She ran her wet fingers down his chin, his neck, to his chest, lightly gliding them over the symbols painted on him, tracing them with her fingers, feeling the hills and valleys of him.

Coming to her knees above him, she circled a fingertip around the hardness of one of his nipples, firmly caressed his chest as she let her eyes slide closed for a moment while gritting her teeth. Gently, but forcefully, she pushed him down on his back. He went easily, without protest. She leaned over him with her hand still on his chest for support. The feeling of him surprised her, the rigid hardness of his muscles, sheathed with yielding, velvety soft skin, the wetness of his sweat, the coarseness of his hairs, the heat. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, with the life in him.

Leaving one knee next to his hip, she put the other between his legs as she looked down into his eyes, her thick hair cascading down around his face as she continued to support herself with the hand on his chest, not wanting to move it, to lose the connection with his moist flesh. A connection that was igniting her with its heat.

Between her knees, the muscles of his thigh flexed, sending her pulse racing even faster. She had to open her mouth to get her breath. She lost herself in his eyes, eyes that felt as if they were probing her soul, stripping it bare. They sent fire raging through her.

With her other hand she smoothly unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out the tails.

She put her hand behind his strong neck, still holding herself up, away from him, with the other on his chest. Her fingers slid into his damp hair, tightened into a fist, held his head to the ground.

A big, powerful hand slipped under her shirt, to the small of her back, stroking in little circles, then slowly slid up the line of her spine, sending shivers through her, before coming to a stop between her shoulder blades. Her eyes half closed as she flexed her back against his hand, wanting him to draw her against him. Her breathing was so fast, she was almost panting.

She drew her knee up his leg until it wouldn’t go any father. Little sounds escaped with some of her breaths. His chest heaved against her hand. As he lay under her, she thought he had never seemed so big to her before.

“I want you,” she panted in a breathless whisper.

Her head lowered. Her lips brushed against his.

A look of pain seemed to cross his eyes. “Only if you first tell me what you are.”

The words cut through her, bringing her eyes open wide. Her head moved back a little. But she was touching him—he could not stop her, she thought, she didn’t want him to stop her. She barely had a grasp on the power as it was, and it was slipping from her hold. She could feel it. She brought her lips back to his, another small sound escaping with her breath.

The hand on her back moved up under her shirt, took a fistful of her hair, gently pulling her head away.

“Kahlan, I mean it. Only if you tell me first.”

Reason flooded back into her mind, washing coldly through her, drowning her passion. She had never cared for anyone like this. How could she touch him with her power? How could she do this to him? She pushed back. What was she doing? What was she thinking?

She sat back on her heels, taking her hand from his chest, putting it over her mouth. The world crashed in around her. How could she tell him? He would hate her—she would lose him. Her head spun sickeningly.

Richard sat up, put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Kahlan,” he said softly, drawing her panicked eyes to his, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Only if you want to do this.”

Her eyebrows wrinkled together as she tried to keep from crying. “Please.” She could hardly get the words out. “Just hold me?”

He drew her tenderly to him, held her head to his shoulder. Pain, pain of who she was, reached its icy fingers back into her. His other arm wrapped protectively around her, holding her tight against him as he rocked her.

“That’s what friends are for,” he whispered in her ear.

She was too drained even to cry.

“I promise, Richard, I will tell you. But not tonight? Tonight, just hold me. Please?”

He slowly lay back down, embracing her tightly against him with his strong arms as she bit one of her knuckles and clutched him with her other hand.

“When you want to. Not before,” he promised.

The horror of what she was wrapped her in its cold embrace, too. She shook with the chill of it. Her eyes refused to close for a long time, until at last she went to sleep, her last thoughts of him.