Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 28

“Try once more,” the Bird Man said. “And stop thinking of the bird you want”—he tapped Richard’s head with his knuckles—“from here.” He jabbed a finger in Richard’s abdomen. “Think of it here!”

Richard nodded at Kahlan’s translation and put the whistle to his lips. His cheeks puffed out as he blew. As usual, there was no sound. The Bird Man, Richard, and Kahlan looked around the flat country. The hunters who had escorted them out onto the plain, their heads swiveling nervously, leaned against spears planted point up in the grassy ground.

Seemingly from nowhere, starlings, sparrows, and small field birds, thousands of them, descended, diving and swooping, on the small company. The hunters ducked, laughing, as they had all day. The air was filled with small birds flying wildly about in a frenzy. The sky was black with them. The hunters fell to the ground, covering their heads, laughing hysterically. Richard rolled his eyes. Kahlan turned her face from him as she laughed. The Bird Man frantically put his own whistle to his lips and blew over and over again, his silver hair flying, trying desperately to send the birds back. At last they heeded his calls and vanished once more. Quiet returned to the grassland except, of course, for the hunters, who still rolled on the ground in laughter.

The Bird Man took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. “I give up. We have been trying all day, and it is the same now as when we started. Richard With The Temper,” he announced. “You are the worst bird caller I have ever seen. A child could learn it in three tries, but there is not enough breath in you for the rest of your life to learn. It is hopeless. The only thing your whistle says is, ‘Come, there is food here.’ ”

“But I was thinking ‘hawk,’ I really was. Every kind of bird you named, I thought it hard as I could, honest.”

When Kahlan translated, the hunters laughed all the more. Richard scowled over at them, but they kept laughing. The Bird Man folded his arms with a sigh.

“It is no use. The day ends, the gathering will be soon.” He put his arm around the shoulders of a frustrated Seeker. “Keep the gift of the whistle anyway. Though it will never aid you, let it serve as a reminder that while you may be better at some things than most people, in this, even a child is better than you.”

The hunters roared. Richard sighed and gave the Bird Man a nod. Everyone collected their things and headed back to the village.

Richard leaned toward her. “I was trying my best. Really. I don’t understand it.”

She grinned, taking his hand in hers. “I am sure you were.”

Though the light was fading, the cloudy day had been the brightest in longer than she could remember, and it had helped to lift her spirits. Mostly, though, what helped her was the way Richard had treated her. He had let her have time to recover from last night without asking her anything. He had just held her, let her be.

Even though nothing more had happened, she felt closer to him than she ever had, but at the same time, she knew that was not a good thing. It only deepened her dilemma. She had almost made a very big mistake last night. The biggest mistake of her life. She was relieved that he had pulled her back from the brink. At the same time, part of her wished he hadn’t.

When she woke this morning, she didn’t know how he would feel about her, if he would be hurt, angry, or hate her. Even though she lay bare-chested against him all night, she turned her back to him in embarrassment while she buttoned her shirt. As her fingers slipped the buttons back in place, she told him that no one had ever had a friend as patient as the one she had. She said she only hoped that someday she could prove to be as good a friend as he was.

“You already have. You have placed your trust, your life, in my hands. You have pledged your life in defense of me. What more proof could I have?”

She turned, and resisting mightily the urge to kiss him, thanked him for putting up with her.

“I will have to admit, though,” he said, smiling, “that I will never look at an apple in quite the same way.”

That made her laugh, partly in embarrassment, and they both laughed together a long time. Somehow, it made her feel better, and took away what could have been a thorn.

Suddenly Richard stopped in his tracks. She stopped, too, as the others walked on.

“Richard, what is it?”

“The sun.” He looked pale. “For a moment, a shaft of sunlight was on my face.”

She turned to the west. “All I see are clouds.”

“It was there, a small opening, but I don’t see it either, now.”

“Do you think it means something?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But it’s the first time I’ve seen even the slightest break in the clouds since Zedd put them there. Maybe it’s nothing.”

They started walking again, the eerie sounds of the boldas carrying to them across the windswept, flat grasslands. By the time they reached the village, it was dark. The banquet was still going on, as it had all last night, as it would tonight, until the gathering was over. Everyone was still going strong, except the children—many of whom walked around in a sleepy stupor or slept contentedly in corners here and there.

The six elders were on their platform, their wives gone. They were eating a meal being served by special women—cooks who were the only ones allowed to prepare the gathering feast. Kahlan watched them pour a drink for each of the elders. It was red, different from any other drink at the banquet. The eyes of the six were glazed, far off, as if they were seeing things others didn’t. Kahlan felt a chill.

Their ancestors’ spirits were with them.

The Bird Man spoke to them. When he seemed satisfied by whatever it was they told him, he nodded and the six rose, walking in a line toward the spirit house. The sound of the drums and the boldas changed in a way that ran bumps up her arms. The Bird Man strode back to them, his eyes as sharp and intense as ever.

“It is time,” he told her. “Richard and I must go now.”

“What do you mean, ‘Richard and I’? I’m going too.”

“You cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because a gathering is only men.”

“I am the Seeker’s guide, I must be there to translate.”

The Bird Man’s eyes shifted about in an uncomfortable manner. “But a gathering is only men,” he repeated, seemingly unable to come up with a better reason.

She folded her arms. “Well, this one will have a woman.”

Richard looked from her face to the Bird Man’s and back again, knowing by the tone of her voice that something was going on, but deciding not to interfere. The Bird Man leaned a little closer to her and lowered his voice.

“When we meet the spirits, it must be as they are.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me that you can’t wear clothes?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “And you must be painted with mud.”

“Fine,” she said, holding her head up. “I have no objections.”

He leaned back a little. “Well, what about the Seeker? Maybe you would like to ask him what he feels about you doing this.”

She held his eyes for a long time, then turned to Richard. “I need to explain something to you. When a person calls a gathering, they are sometimes asked questions by the spirits, through the elders, to be sure they are acting of noble intent. If you answer a question in a way that a spirit ancestor finds dishonorable or untruthful . . . they may kill you. Not the elders, the spirits.”

“I have the sword,” he reminded her.

“No, you won’t. If you want a gathering, you must do as the elders do, face the spirits with nothing but yourself. You can wear no sword, no clothes, and you must have mud painted on you.” She took a breath, pushed some hair back over her shoulder. “If I am not there to translate, you may get killed simply because you cannot answer a question you don’t understand. Then Rahl wins. I must be there to interpret. But if I’m there, I, too, can wear no clothes. The Bird Man is in a fret, and wishes to know what you think of this. He is hoping you will forbid me from doing this.”

Richard folded his arms, looking her in the eye. “I think you are bound and determined, one way or another, to have your clothes off in the spirit house.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, and his eyes sparkled. Kahlan had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. The Bird Man looked from one to the other, confused.

“Richard!” She spoke his name in a rising tone of caution. “This is serious. And don’t get your hopes up. It will be dark.” Still, she could hardly keep from laughing.

Richard’s face regained its seriousness as he turned to the Bird Man. “I called the gathering. I need Kahlan there.”

She could almost see him flinch at the translation. “You two have been stretching my limits from the moment you arrived.” He gave a loud sigh. “Why should it change now? Let’s go.”

Kahlan and Richard walked side by side, following the Bird Man’s silhouette as he led them off through the dark passageways of the village, turning to the right several times, then the other way. Richard’s hand found hers. Kahlan was a lot more nervous about this than she let on, about sitting naked with eight naked men. But she was not about to let Richard go into the gathering without her. This was no time to let it all slip away from them: they had worked too hard—time was too short.

She put on her Confessor’s face.

Before they reached the spirit house, the Bird Man took them through a narrow doorway, into a small room in a building nearby. The other elders were there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly ahead. She smiled at Savidlin, but he didn’t respond. The Bird Man picked up a small bench and two clay pots.

“When I call your name, come out. Wait until then.”

As the Bird Man took his bench and pots with him, squeezing sideways out the door, Kahlan told Richard what he had said. In a while he called Caldus’s name, and after a time, each of the other elders in turn, Savidlin last. Savidlin did not speak to them or even acknowledge that he knew they were there. The spirits were in his eyes.

Kahlan and Richard sat in silence in the empty, dark room, waiting. She picked at the heel of her boot, trying not to think about what it was she had committed herself to, yet unable to think of anything else.

Richard would be unarmed, without his sword, his protection. But she would not be without her power. She would be his protection. Though she had not spoken it, that was the other reason she had to be in there. If anything went wrong, it was going to be she who died, not him, that much she knew. She would see to it. She steeled herself, went into herself. She heard the Bird Man call out Richard’s name. He rose to his feet.

“Let’s hope this works. If it doesn’t, we’re in a lot of trouble. I’m glad I’ll have you there.” It was a warning, to stay alert.

She nodded. “Just remember, Richard, these are our people now, we belong. They want to help us—they will be doing their best.”

Kahlan sat hugging her knees, waiting, until her name was called, then went out into the cool, dark night. The Bird Man sat against the wall of the spirit house, on the little bench. She could see in the dark that he was naked, symbols painted in jagged lines, stripes and whorls all over his body, his silver hair down around his bare shoulders. Chickens roosted on a short wall nearby, watching. A hunter stood near the Bird Man. Coyote hides, clothes, and Richard’s sword lay at his feet.

“Remove your clothes,” the Bird Man said.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing at the hunter.

“He is here to take the clothes. They are taken to the elders’ platform, for the people to see that we are in a gathering. Before dawn, he will return them, to let the people know that the gathering is at an end.”

“Well, tell him to turn around.”

The Bird Man gave the order. The hunter turned around. She gripped the tongue of her belt, yanked it free from the catch. She paused, looking down at the Bird Man.

“Child,” he said softly, “tonight you are neither man nor woman. You are a Mud Person. Tonight, I am neither man nor woman. I am a spirit guide.”

She nodded, removed her clothes, and stood before him, the cold night air on her naked flesh. He scooped a handful of white mud from one of the pots. His hands paused before her. She waited. He was clearly skittish about doing this, despite what he said. Seeing was one thing, touching quite another.

Kahlan reached out, took his hand, and pulled it firmly against her belly, feeling the cold mud squish against her.

“Do it,” she ordered.

When finished, they pulled the door open and went inside, he sitting among the circle of painted elders, she opposite him, next to Richard. Black and white lines swept diagonally across Richard’s face in dramatic tangles, a mask they all wore for the spirits. The skulls that had sat on the shelf were arranged in the center of the circle. A small fire burned slowly in the fireplace behind her, giving off an odd, acrid smell. The elders stared fixedly ahead as they rhythmically chanted words she couldn’t understand. The Bird Man’s far-off eyes came up. The door closed of its own accord.

“From now, until we are finished, near dawn, no one may go out, no one may come in. The door is barred by the spirits.”

Kahlan’s eyes swept the room, but saw nothing. A shiver ran up her spine. The Bird Man took a woven basket sitting near him and reached inside. He pulled out a small frog, then passed the basket to the next elder. Each took a frog and began rubbing its back against the skin of his chest. When the basket reached her, she held it between her hands and looked up at the Bird Man.

“Why do we do this?”

“These are red spirit frogs, very hard to find. They have a substance on their backs that makes us forget this world, and allows us to see the spirits.”

“Honored elder—I may be one of the Mud People, but I am also a Confessor. I must always hold back my power. If I forget this world, I may not be able to do that.”

“It is too late to back out now. The spirits are with us. They have seen you, seen the symbols on you that open their eyes. You may not leave. If one is here who is blind to them, they will kill that person, and steal their spirit. I understand your problem, but I cannot help you. You will just have to do your best to hold back your power. If you cannot do so, then one of us will be lost. It is a price we will have to pay. If you want to die, then leave your frog in the basket. If you want to stop Darken Rahl, take it out.”

She stared wide-eyed into his grim face, then reached into the basket. The frog wriggled and kicked in her hand as she passed the basket to Richard, telling him what to do. Swallowing hard, she pushed the cold slimy back of the frog against her chest, between her breasts, to the one place on her where there were no symbols painted, pushed it around in circles as the others had done. Where the slime touched her skin, it felt tingly, tight. The feeling spread through her. The sounds of the drums and the boldas grew in her ears until it seemed as if the sound was the only thing in the world. Her body vibrated with the beat. In her mind, she took hold of her power, held it tightly, concentrated on her control of it—then, hoping it was enough, she felt herself drift away.

Everyone took the hand of the person to each side. The walls of the room swam away from her vision. Her consciousness undulated, like ripples on a pond, floating, bobbing, pitching. She felt herself beginning to spin in a circle with the others, around and around the skulls in the center. The skulls brightened, lighting the faces of everyone in the circle. They were all swallowed into a soft void of nothingness. Shafts of light, from the center, spun with them.

All around, shapes closed in. In terror, she recognized what they were.

Shadow things.

Unable to get a scream out, her breath caught in her throat, she squeezed Richard’s hand. She had to protect him. She tried to get up, to throw herself over him so they couldn’t touch him. But her body wouldn’t move. She realized with horror that it was because hands, hands of the shadow things, were on her. She struggled, struggled to get up, to protect Richard. Her mind raced with panic. Had they already killed her? Was she dead? Was she no more than a spirit now? Unable to move? The shadow things stared down at her. Shadow things didn’t have faces. These did. Mud People faces.

They weren’t shadow things, she realized with a wave of relief, they were the ancestors’ spirits. She caught her breath, eased the panic back down. Relaxed herself.

“Who calls this gathering?”

It was the spirits speaking. All of them. Together. The sound, hollow, flat, dead, almost took her breath away. But it was the Bird Man’s mouth that moved.

“Who calls this gathering?” they repeated.

“This man does,” she said, “this man beside me, Richard With The Temper.”

They floated between the elders, gathering into the center of the circle.

“Release his hands.”

Kahlan and Savidlin let go of Richard’s hands. The spirits spun in the center of the circle—then, in a rush, they came out in a line, passing through Richard’s body.

He inhaled sharply, threw his head back, and screamed in agony as they swept through him.

Kahlan jumped. The spirits all hovered behind him. The elders all closed their eyes.

“Richard!”

His head came back down. “It’s all right. I’m all right,” he managed in a hoarse voice, but he was clearly still in pain.

The spirits moved around the circle, behind the elders, then settled into their bodies, both spirit and man, in the same place at the same time. It gave the elders a soft, indefinite appearance around the edges. Their eyes come open.

“Why have you called us?” the Bird Man asked, in their hollow, harmonic voices.

She leaned a little toward Richard, keeping her eyes on the Bird Man. “They want you to say why you called this gathering.”

Richard took a few deep breaths, recovering from what they had done to him.

“I called this gathering because I must find an object of magic before Darken Rahl finds it. Before he can use it.” Kahlan translated as the spirits talked to Richard through the elders.

“How many men have you killed?” Savidlin asked with spirit voices.

Richard answered without hesitation. “Two.”

“Why?” Hajanlet asked in their haunting tones.

“To keep them from killing me.”

“Both?”

He thought a moment. “The first one I killed in self-defense. The second I killed in defense of a friend.”

“Do you think the defense of a friend gives you the right to kill?” Arbrin’s mouth moved this time.

“Yes.”

“Suppose he was going to kill your friend only to defend the life of his friend?”

Richard took a deep breath. “What’s the point of the question?”

“The point is, according to what you believe, that you think it is justified to kill in the defense of a friend, then if he was killing to defend a friend, he had the right to kill your friend. He was justified. Since he was justified, that would void your right, would it not?”

“Not all questions have answers.”

“Maybe not all questions have answers you like.”

“Maybe.”

Kahlan could tell by his tone that Richard was getting angry. All the eyes of the elders, the spirits, were on him.

“Did you enjoy killing this man?”

“Which one?”

“The first.”

“No.”

“The second.”

Richard’s jaw muscles tightened. “What is the point of these questions?”

“All questions have a different reason for being asked.”

“And sometimes the reasons have nothing to do with the question?”

“Answer the question.”

“Only if you first tell me the reason for it.”

“You came here to ask us questions. Shall we ask your reasons?”

“It would seem you are.”

“Answer our question or we will not answer yours.”

“And if I answer it, will you promise to answer mine?”

“We are not here to make bargains. We are here because we were called. Answer the question or the gathering is over.”

Richard took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he stared up at the void. “Yes. I enjoyed killing him, because of the magic of the Sword of Truth. That is how it works. If I had killed him in another manner, without the sword, I would not have enjoyed it.”

“Irrelevant.”

“What?”

“ ‘If’ is irrelevant. ‘Did’ is not. So, now you have given two reasons for killing the second man: to defend a friend—and because you enjoyed it. Which is the true reason?”

“Both. I killed him to protect a friend’s life, and because of the sword, I enjoyed it.”

“What if you did not need to kill to protect your friend? What if you were wrong in your assessment? What if the life of your friend was not in fact in danger?”

Kahlan tensed at this question. She hesitated a moment before translating it.

“In my mind, the deed is not as important as the intent. I truly believed my friend’s life was in danger, therefore I felt justified in killing to protect her. I had only a moment to act. In my mind, indecision would have resulted in her death.

“If the spirits think I was wrong in killing, or that the one I killed may have been justified, voiding my right, then we have a disagreement. Some problems have no clear solution. Some problems don’t provide the time to analyze them. I had to act with my heart. As a wise man once told me, every murderer thinks he is justified in killing. I will kill to prevent myself or a friend, or an innocent, from being killed. If you feel that is wrong, tell me now so we can put an end to these painful questions, and I may go in search of the answers I need.”

“As we said, we are not here to make bargains. You said that to your mind, the deed is not as important as the intent. Is there anyone you have intended to kill, but have not?”

The sound of their voices was painful—Kahlan felt as if it was burning her skin.

“You have misinterpreted the context of what I said. I said I killed because I thought I had to, that I thought his intent was to kill her, therefore I thought I had to act or she would die. Not that my intent equates to the deed. There is probably a long list of people who, at one time or another, I have wanted to kill.”

“If you wanted to, why have you not done so?”

“Many reasons. For some, I had not true justification, it was only a mind game, a fantasy, to counter the sting of an injustice. For some, though I felt justified, I was able to escape without killing. Some, well, it just turned out that I didn’t, that’s all.”

“The five elders?”

Richard sighed. “Yes.”

“But you intended to.”

Richard didn’t answer.

“Is this a case where the intent is as the deed?”

Richard swallowed hard. “In my heart, yes. That I intended it wounds me almost as much as the deed would have.”

“So then we have not, it would seem, gotten what you said entirely out of context.”

Kahlan could see tears in Richard’s eyes. “Why are you asking me these questions!”

“Why do you want the object of magic?”

“To stop Darken Rahl!”

“And how will getting this object stop him?”

Richard leaned back a little. His eyes went wide. He understood. A tear ran down his cheek. “Because, if I can get the object, and keep it from him,” he whispered, “he will die. I will kill him in that way.”

“What you are really asking us, then, is for our aid in killing another.” There voices echoed around her in the darkness.

Richard only nodded.

“That is why we are asking you these questions. You are asking for our aid in killing. Do you not think it fair we should know what kind of person it is we would be helping in his attempt to kill?” Sweat was rolling off Richard’s face. “I guess so.” He closed his eyes.

“Why do you want to kill this man?”

“Many reasons.”

“Why do you want to kill this man?”

“Because he tortured and killed my father. Because he has tortured and killed many others. Because he will kill me if I don’t kill him. Because he will torture and kill many more if I don’t kill him. It is the only way to stop him. He cannot be reasoned with. I have no option but to kill him.”

“Consider the next question carefully. Answer with the truth, or this gathering will end.”

Richard nodded.

“What is the reason, above all others, why you want to kill this man?”

Richard looked down and closed his eyes again. “Because,” he whispered at last, tears running down his face, “if I don’t kill him, he will kill Kahlan.”

Kahlan felt as if she had been hit in the stomach. She could barely bring herself to translate the words. There was a long silence. Richard sat naked, in more ways than one. She was angry at the spirits for doing this to him. She was also deeply distraught by what she was doing to him. Shar had been right.

“If Kahlan were not a factor, would you still try to kill this man?”

“Absolutely. You asked the reason above all others. I told you.”

“What is the object of magic you seek?” they asked suddenly.

“Does that mean you agree with my reasons for killing?”

“No. It means that for our own reasons, we have decided to answer your question. If we can. What is the object of magic you seek?”

“One of the three boxes of Orden.”

When Kahlan translated, the spirits suddenly howled as if in pain. “We are not allowed to answer that question. The boxes of Orden are in play. This gathering is over.”

The elders’ eyes began to close. Richard jumped to his feet. “You would let Darken Rahl kill all those people when you have the power to help?”

“Yes.”

“You would let him kill your descendants? Your living flesh and blood? You aren’t spirit ancestors to our people, you are spirit traitors!”

“Not true.”

“Then tell me!”

“Not allowed.”

“Please! Don’t leave us without your help. Let me ask another question?”

“We are not allowed to disclose where the boxes of Orden are. It is forbidden. Think, and ask another question.”

Richard sat down, pulling his knees up. He rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. The symbols painted all over him made him look like some kind of wild creature. He put his face in his hands, thinking. His head snapped up.

“You can’t tell me where the boxes are. Are there any other restrictions?”

“Yes.”

“How many boxes does Rahl already have?”

“Two.”

He looked at the elders evenly. “You have just disclosed where two of the boxes are. That is forbidden,” he reminded them. “Or maybe it is simply a gray shade of intent?”

Silence.

“That information is not restricted. Your question?”

Richard leaned forward like a dog on scent. “Can you tell me who knows where the last box is?”

Richard already knew the answer to this question, she suspected. She recognized his manner of slicing the loaf the other way.

“We know the name of the person who has the box, and the names of several other people nearby, but we cannot tell you the names because that would be the same as telling you where it is. That is forbidden.”

“Then, can you tell me the name of a person, other than Rahl, who is not in possession of the last box, who is not near it, but who knows where it is?”

“There is one we can name. She knows where the box is. If we tell you her name, that would not lead you to the box, only to her. This is allowed. It will be up to you, not us, to get whatever information you might.”

“That is my question, then: who is it? Name her.”

When they uttered the name, Kahlan froze with a jolt. She didn’t translate. The elders shook at the mere name, spoken aloud.

“Who is it? What’s her name?” Richard demanded of her.

Kahlan looked up at him.

“We are as good as dead,” she whispered.

“Why? Who, is it?”

Kahlan sank back, into herself. “It is the witch woman, Shota.”

“And do you know where she is?”

Kahlan nodded, her brow wrinkled in terror. “In the Agaden Reach.” She whispered the name as if even the words tasted of poison. “Not even a wizard would dare to go into the Reach.”

Richard studied the visage of fear in her face, and looked to the elders as they shook.

“Then we go to Agaden Reach, to this witch woman, Shota,” he said in an even voice, “and find out where the box is.”

“We wish you kind fates,” the spirits said, through the Bird Man. “The lives of our descendants depend upon you.”

“Thank you for your help, honored ancestors,” Richard said. “I will do my best to stop Rahl. To help our people.”

“You must use your head. That is Darken Rahl’s way. Meet him on his terms, and you will lose. It will not be easy. You will have to suffer, as will our people, as will other people, before you have even a chance to succeed. And in all probability, you will still fail. Heed our warning, Richard With The Temper.”

“I will remember the things you say. I pledge to do my best.”

“Then we will test the truth of your pledge. There is something else we would tell you.” They paused for a moment. “Darken Rahl is here. He looks for you.”

Kahlan translated in a rush, jumping to her feet. Richard came up beside her.

“What! He is here now? Where is he, what is he doing’?”

“He is in the center of the village. He is killing people.”

Fear raged through Kahlan.

Richard took a step forward. ‘‘I have to get out of here. I have to get my sword. I have to try to stop him!”

“If you wish. But hear us out first. Sit,” they commanded.

Richard and Kahlan sank back down, looking wide-eyed at each other, clutching each other’s hands. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Hurry, then,” Richard said.

“Darken Rahl wants you. Your sword cannot kill him. Tonight, the balance of power is on his side. If you go out there, he will kill you. You will have no chance. None. In order to win, you must change the balance of power, something you cannot do this night. The people he kills tonight will die whether or not you go out to fight him. If you do go out, more will die in the end. Many more. If you are to succeed, you must have the courage to let these die tonight. You must save yourself to fight at another time. You must suffer this pain. You must heed your head rather than your sword, if you are to have a chance to win.”

“But I have to go out sooner or later!”

“Darken Rahl has loosed many dark terrors. He must balance many things, including his time. He does not have the time to wait all night. He is confident, with good reason, that he can defeat you at any time of his choosing. He has no reason to wait. He will be gone soon, to tend to other dark matters, to look for you another day.

“The symbols painted upon you open our eyes to you, so we may see you. They close his eyes to you—he cannot see you. Unless you draw your sword. That, he will be able to see—then he would have you. As long as the symbols are upon you, and the magic of your sword remains in its scabbard, while you are in Mud People territory he cannot find you.”

“But I can’t stay here!”

“Not if you wish to stop him. When you leave our territory, the power of the symbols will be gone, and he will be able to see you again.”

Richard’s clenched fists shook. Kahlan could see by the look on his face that he was close to disregarding the warning, close to going out to fight.

“The choice is yours,” the spirits said. “Wait in here while he kills some of our people, and when he is gone, go after the box, to kill him. Or go out now, and accomplish nothing.” Richard closed his eyes tight. His chest rose and fell with his labored breathing.

“I will wait,” he said in a voice she could barely hear.

Kahlan threw her arms around his neck, putting her head against his, as they both cried. The circle of elders began spinning around again.

That was the last thing she remembered until she and Richard were shaken awake by the Bird Man. She felt as if she were coming out of a nightmare as she recalled the things the spirits said, about the killing of the Mud People, and that to find the box they had to go into Agaden Reach, to Shota. She recoiled at the thought of the witch woman. The other elders were standing over them, and helping both of them up. All wore grim faces. Tears tried to come to her again. She forced them back.

The Bird Man pushed the door open to the cold night air, to a clear, starlit sky.

The clouds were gone. Even the snakelike cloud.

Dawn was less than an hour away, and already the eastern sky had a hint of color to it. A solemn-faced hunter handed them their clothes, and Richard his sword. Wordlessly, they dressed and went out.

A phalanx of hunters and archers protectively surrounded the spirit house. Many were bloodied. Richard pushed in front of the Bird Man.

“Tell me what happened,” he ordered in a quiet voice.

A man with a spear stepped forward. Kahlan waited next to Richard, to translate. Rage flared in the man’s eyes.

“The red demon came from the sky, carrying a man. He wanted you.” Fire in his eyes, he pushed his spearpoint against Richard’s chest. The Bird Man, stonefaced, put his hand on the spear, raising the point away from Richard. “When he could only find your clothes, he began killing people. Children!” His chest was heaving with anger. “Our arrows would not touch him. Our spears would not touch him. Our hands would not touch him. Many of those who tried were killed by magic fire. Then he became even more angry when he saw that we use fire. He made all the fires go out. Then he climbed back on the red demon and told us that if we use fire again, he will come back and kill every child in the village. With magic, he floated Siddin into the air, and took him under his arm. A gift, he said, for a friend. Then he flew away. And where were you and your sword!”

Savidlin’s eyes filled with tears. Kahlan put her hand against the ripping pain in her heart. She knew who the gift was for.

The man spat on Richard. Savidlin went for him, but Richard held his arm out, held Savidlin back.

“I heard the voices of our ancestors’ spirits,” Savidlin said. “I know this is not his failing!”

Kahlan put her arms around Savidlin, and comforted him. “Be strong. We have saved him once when it seemed he was lost. We will save him again.”

He nodded bravely as she pulled back. Richard asked softly what she had told Savidlin.

“A lie,” she answered, “to ease his pain.”

Richard nodded his understanding, and turned to the man with the spear.

“Show me the ones he killed,” he said without emotion.

“Why?” the man demanded.

“So I will never forget why I am going to kill the one who did this.”

The man gave the elders an angry glance and then led them all to the center of the village. Kahlan put on her blank expression, to shield herself from what she knew she would see. She had seen it too many times before, in other villages, other places. And as she expected, it was the same as she had seen before. Lined up in terrible disarray beside a wall were the torn and ripped bodies of children, the burned bodies of men and dead women, some without arms, or jaws. The Bird Man’s niece was among them. Richard showed no emotion as he walked among the chaos of screaming and wailing people, past the dead, looking, the calm in the eye of the hurricane. Or maybe, she thought, the lightning about to strike.

“This is what you brought us,” the man hissed. “This is your fault!”

Richard watched as others nodded their agreement, then turned his eyes on the man with the spear. His voice was gentle.

“If it eases your pain to think so, then blame me. I choose to blame the one whose hands have the blood on them.” He addressed the Bird Man and the other elders. “Until this is over, don’t use fire. It will only invite more killing. I swear to stop this man or die in the attempt. Thank you, my friends, for helping me.”

His eyes turned to Kahlan. They were intense, reflecting his anger over what he had just seen. He gritted his teeth. “Let’s go find this witch woman.”

They had no choice, of course. But she knew of Shota.

They were going to die.

They might as well go ask Darken Rahl to tell them where they could find the box.

Kahlan walked up to the Bird Man, then suddenly threw her arms around him.

“Remember me,” she whispered.

When they separated, the Bird Man looked around at the people, his face drawn. “These two need some men to guard them safely to the edge of our land.”

Savidlin stepped forward instantly. Without hesitation, a banc of ten of his best hunters came to stand with him.