'What are you doing?' Kahlan asked him.
'Just eat your apple and then translate for me.'
When they finished, Richard stood, motioning her up next to him. 'Honored elders, I have returned from stopping the threat against our people. Now that it is over, I would like to ask your permission for something. I hope you find me worthy. I would like to ask your permission to have a Mud Woman as my wife. As you can see, I have taught Kahlan to eat these things as I do. She will not be harmed by it, or by me, and in the same way, though she is a Confessor, I will not be harmed by her. We would like to be together, and we would like to be wedded by our people.'
Kahlan could hardly get the last of the words out past the tightness in her throat, and she could hardly keep from throwing her arms around him. She could feel her eyes burning and filling with tears, and had to clear her throat to finish the words. She put her arm around Richard's waist to steady herself.
The elders suddenly beamed with surprise. The Bird Man wore a wide grin. 'I think you are finally learning to be Mud People,' he said. 'Nothing could please us more than for you two to be wed.'
Richard didn't wait for the translation, but gave her a kiss that took her breath away. The elders and their wives applauded.
It was all the more special to her that they would be wedded before the Mud People. Kahlan felt at home here When they had come before, seeking help in their struggle to stop Rahl, Richard had shown the Mud People how to make roofs that didn't leak. They had made friends, had fought battles together, with lives saved, and lost. In the process, the two of them had bonded with these people. In honor of their sacrifices, the Bird Man had proclaimed them Mud People.
The Bird Man stood and gave Kahlan a fatherly hug that felt as if he were saying that he understood everything she had been through and was happy she had at last found happiness. She shed a few tears against his shoulder as he held her in his strong arms. Their adventure, a long ordeal, had taken her from the depths of pain and despair to the heights of joy. The fight had ended only yesterday. It didn't seem possible it could be over at last.
As they went on with the feast, Kahlan wished more than ever that it could end soon so she could be alone with Richard. He had been held prisoner for over a month, and had only rejoined her the day before. She hadn't even really had a chance to talk with him. Or hug him nearly enough.
Children danced and played around the small fire while the adults gathered around torches, eating and talking and laughing. Weselan scooted down next to her, hugged her, and said she would make her a proper wedding dress. Savidlin kissed her cheek and slapped Richard's back. She found it difficult to look away from Richard's gray eyes. She didn't want to. Ever.
The hunters who had been out on the plain the day the Bird Man had tried to teach Richard how to call specific birds with the special whistle he had given Richard as a gift, wandered by the elders' platform. All Richard could do that day was make a sound that called all the birds at once, but not different species individually. The hunters had laughed endlessly that day.
As they listened now, Savidlin made Richard show the whistle and tell again how he had used it to call all the birds that roosted in the valley filled with gars. The thousands of hungry birds had eaten the gars' blood flies, creating a panic. The diversion had enabled Richard to rescue Scarlet's egg.
The Bird Man laughed, even though he had already heard the story three times by now. Savidlin laughed and slapped Richard's back. The hunters laughed and slapped their thighs. Richard laughed as he watched them react to Kahlan's translation.
Kahlan laughed at seeing Richard laugh. 'I think we have found an adventure that satisfies them.' She thought about it and frowned. 'How did Scarlet land you close enough to the egg without being seen by the gars?'
Richard looked away and was silent a moment. 'She landed me on the valley on the other side of the hills around Fire Spring. I went through the cave.'
He didn't look at her. Kahlan hooked some hair behind an ear. 'And was there really a beast in the cave? A Shadrin?'
He let out a deep breath as he looked across the open area. That there was. And more.' As she put her hand on his shoulder, he took it and kissed the back of it, still staring off. 'I thought I was going to die there, alone. I thought I would never see you again.' He seemed to shake off the memory and leaned back on an elbow, gazing at her with a lop-sided smile on his face.
The Shadrin left some scars that aren't healed yet. But I would have to take off my pants to show them to you.'
'Really?' Kahlan gave a throaty laugh. 'I think I better have a look... to see if everything is all right.'
As she looked deep into his eyes, she abruptly realized most of the elders were watching them. Suddenly she felt her face warm. She snatched up a rice cake and took a quick bite, relieved to know they couldn't understand their words. She hoped others couldn't understand the look in their eyes She chided herself to pay more attention to where she was. Richard sat up again. Kahlan reached over to a small bowl of roasted ribs that looked to be wild boar, and set it down in his lap.
'Here. Have some of these.'
She looked over at a group of the wives. She held up the rice cake and smiled. 'These are very good.' They nodded their satisfaction. She looked back to Richard. He was staring down at the bowl of meat. His face was white.
'Take it away,' he whispered.
Kahlan frowned and lifted the bowl from his lap, setting it behind her. She scooted closer to him. 'Richard, what's wrong?'
He was still staring at his lap, as if the bowl were still there. 'I don't know. I looked down at the meat, and then I could smell it. It made me feel sick. It just seemed like a dead animal to me. Like I was about to eat some dead animal lying there in front of me. How could anyone eat some dead animal that was just lying there?'
Kahlan didn't know what to say. He didn't look well. 'I think I know what you mean. I was sick once and they fed me some cheese. I threw it all back up. They thought it would be good for me, and every day fed me more, and I. would throw it up, until I was well again. That is why, to this day, I don't like cheese. Maybe it's something like that, because you have a headache.'
'Maybe,' he said in a weak voice. 'I spent a long time at the People's Palace. They don't eat meat there. Darken Rahl doesn't - didn't - eat meat, so none was served at the palace. Maybe I just got used to not eating meat.'
She rubbed his back as he put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. First cheese, and now meat. His eating habits were becoming as peculiar as... a wizard's.
'Kahlan... I'm sorry, but I need to go somewhere where it's quiet. My head really hurts.'
She put her hand on his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy. He looked about ready to fall over. Her insides fluttered with worry.
Kahlan squatted in front of the Bird Man. 'Richard doesn't feel well. He needs to go somewhere quiet. Is that all right?'
At first he thought he knew why they wanted to leave. His smile faded when he saw the anxiety on her face. 'Take him to the spirit house. It is quiet there. No one will bother him. Get Nissel if you think there be need.' A little of his smile came back. 'Maybe he has spent too much time on the dragon. I thank the spirits my gift of flight was short.'
She nodded, unable to manage much of a smile, and said a quick good night to the others. Picking up both their packs, she put a hand under Richard's arm and helped him to his feet. His eyes were squeezed shut, his eyebrows wrinkled together in pain. The pain seemed to pass a little, and he opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and started off with her across the open area.
The shadows were thick among the buildings, but the moon was up, giving them enough light to see their way. The sounds of the feast faded into the background, leaving only the slow scrape of Richard's boots- scuffing on the dry ground.
He straightened a little. 'I think some of it has passed.'
'Do you get headaches often?'
He smiled over to her in the moonlight. 'I'm famous for my headaches. My father told me that my mother used to get headaches like the ones I get, where you feel sick to your stomach because your head hurts so much. But this one is different. I've never had ones like this before. It's like something inside my head is trying to get out.' He took his pack from her and hoisted it to his shoulder. 'It hurts more than my other headaches.'
They passed from the narrow passageways to the wide space around the spirit house. It sat by itself, moonlight reflecting off the tile roof Richard had helped the Mud People build. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimney.
Around the side, by the door, a row of chickens roosted on a low wall. They watched as she pulled the door open for him, starting a little at the squeak of the hinges, and settled down as the two of them passed inside.
Richard flopped down in front of the fireplace. Kahlan pulled out a blanket and made him lie back, bunching the blanket under his head. He rested the back of his wrist over his eyes as she sat, cross-legged, next to him.
Kahlan felt helpless. 'I think I should go get Nissel. Maybe a healer can do something for you.'
He shook his head. 'I'll be all right. I just need to be away from all the noise.' He smiled, his arm still over his eyes. 'Have you ever noticed how badly we do at parties? Every time we are at a party something happens.'
Kahlan thought back to every gathering they had been at together. 'I think you're right.' She rubbed a hand on his chest. 'I think the only solution is for us to be alone.'
Richard kissed her hand. 'I would like that.'
She enfolded his big hand in both of hers, wanting to feel the warmth of him as she watched him rest. It was dead quiet in the spirit house, except for the slow crackling of the fire. She listened to his slow, steady breathing.
After a while, he slid his hand away, and looked up at her. Firelight reflected in his eyes. There was something about his face, his eyes; something her mind was trying to tell her. He looked like someone else she had met, but who? A name whispered in the back of her thoughts, but she couldn't quite hear it. She stroked his hair back off his forehead. His skin didn't feel quite so cold.
He sat up. 'I just thought of something. I asked the elders for permission to marry you, but I haven't really asked you.'
Kahlan smiled. 'No, you haven't.'
Suddenly he looked embarrassed and unsure of himself.
His eyes wandered a little. That was really stupid. I'm sorry. That wasn't the right way to do it. I hope you're not angry. I guess I'm not very good at this. I've never done it before.'
'Me neither.'
'And I guess this isn't the most romantic place to do it. It should be someplace beautiful.'
'Wherever you are is the most romantic place in the world to me.'
'And I guess I must look pretty silly asking you something like this when I'm lying here with a headache.'
'If you don't ask me pretty soon, Richard Cypher,' she whispered, 'I'm going to choke it out of you.'
His eyes finally found hers, found hers so intently it nearly took her breath away. 'Kahlan Amnell, will you marry me?'
Quite unexpectedly, she found she couldn't speak. She closed her eyes and kissed his soft lips as a tear rolled down her cheek. His arms closed around her, hugging her tight against the heat of him. She pulled back breathlessly. Her voice at last returned. 'Yes.' She kissed him again. 'Please, yes.'
Kahlan laid her head against his shoulder. Richard gently stroked her hair as she listened to his breathing and the crackle of the fire. He held her tenderly and kissed the top of her head, there being no need for words. She felt safe in his arms.
Kahlan let loose her pain: the pain of loving him more than life itself and thinking he had been tortured to death by the Mord-Sith before she could tell him how much she loved him; the pain of having thought she could never have him because she was a Confessor and her power would destroy him; the hurt of how much she needed him, how uncontrollably she loved him.
As her anguish expended itself, it was replaced by her joy in what lay ahead: a lifetime, together. The breathless excitement of it seeped into her. She clutched at him, wanting to melt into him, wanting to be one with him.
Kahlan smiled. That was what being married to him would be: being one with him, as Zedd had told her once -like finding the other half of herself.
When she finally looked up, there was a tear on his face. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and he did the same. She hoped his tears meant he had let his demons go, too.
'I love you,' she whispered.
Richard pulled her tight against him. His fingers traced a trail down the bumps of her spine.
'I feel so frustrated that there aren't any better words than "I love you,"' he said. 'It doesn't seem enough for the way I feel about you. I'm sorry there aren't any better words to tell you.'
They are words enough for me.'
'Then, I love you, Kahlan. A thousand times, a million times, I love you. Forever.'
She listened to the snap and pop of the fire, and to his heart beating. To her own heartbeat. He rocked her gently. She wanted to stay there in his arms forever. Suddenly the world seemed a wonderful place.
Richard grasped her shoulders and held her away to better see her. A wonderful smile spread across his face. 'I can't believe how beautiful you are. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you.' He ran a hand down her hair. 'I'm so glad I didn't cut your hair that time. You have beautiful hair. Don't ever change it.'
'I'm a Confessor, remember? My hair is a symbol of my power. Besides, I can't cut it. Only another can do that.'
'Good. I would never cut it. I love you the way you are, power and all. Don't ever let anyone cut it. I've liked your long hair ever since the first day I saw you, in the Hartland Woods.'
She smiled as she remembered that day. Richard had offered her help in escaping from the quads. He had saved her life. 'It seems so long ago. Will you miss that life? Being a simple, carefree woods guide?' She smiled coquettishly. And single?'
Richard grinned. 'Single? Not with you as my wife. But a woods guide? Maybe a little.' He stared off at the fire. 'I guess that for better or worse, I am the true Seeker. I hold the Sword of Truth, and the responsibilities that go with it, whatever they are. Do you think you can be happy being the wife of the Seeker?'
'I would be happy living in a tree stump, if you were there with me. But Richard, I'm afraid I'm still the Mother Confessor. I have responsibilities, too.'
'Well, you told me what it meant to be a Confessor, how when you touch someone with your power it forever destroys who they were, replacing it with absolute, magical devotion to you, to your wishes, and in that way you can have them confess the truth of their crimes, or for that matter you can make them do anything you would wish, but what other responsibilities do you have?'
'I guess I never told you about everything else that it means to be the Mother Confessor. It wasn't important at the time; I didn't think we could ever be together. I thought we would die, or even if we somehow won, you would go home to Westland and I would never see you again.'
'You mean the part about it mea'ning that you are more than a queen?'
She nodded. 'The Central Council of the Midlands in Ay-dindril is made up of representatives of the more important lands of the Midlands. Together, the Central Council more or less rules the Midlands. Even though the lands are independent, they still bow to the word of the Central Council. In that way, through the Confederation of Lands, common goals are protected and peace is maintained. It keeps people talking instead of fighting. If one land were to attack an-other, it would be viewed as an attack against unity, against all, and all would put the aggression down. Kings, queens, rulers, officials, merchants, and others come to the Central Council to petition for what they want: trade agreements, boundary treaties, accords dealing with magic - an endless list of wants and wishes.'
'I understand. It's something like that in Westland. The council rules in much the same way. Although Westland isn't nearly big enough to have kingdoms, there are districts that govern themselves, but are represented by councilors in Hartland.
'Since my brother was a councilor, and then First Councilor, I was around the dealings of government. I saw the councilors coming from different places to ask for things. Being a guide, I was always leading them to and from Hartland. I learned a lot about it from talking to them.'
Richard folded his arms. 'So what is the Mother Confessor's part in it?'
'Well, the Central Council rules the Midlands...' She cleared her throat as she looked down at her hands in her lap. '... and the Mother Confessor rules the Central Council.'
His arms came unfolded. 'You mean to say that you rule all the kings and queens? All the lands? You rule the Midlands?'
'Well... yes, in a way, I guess. You see, not all the lands are represented on the Central Council. Some are too small, like Queen Milena's Tamarang, and the Mud People, and a few others are lands of magic, the land of the night wisps, for example. The Mother Confessor is the advocate for these lesser lands. Left to their own wishes, the council would decide to carve up these smaller lands. And they have the armies to do it easily. Only the Mother Confessor stands for those who have no voice.
'The other problem is that these lands are often in disagreement. Some have been bitter adversaries for as long as anyone can remember. The council is often deadlocked as rulers or their representatives each stubbornly demands his own way, to the detriment of the greater interests of the Midlands. The Mother Confessor has no interest but the good of the Midlands.
'Without leadership the different lands, through the Central Council, would only be interested in vying for power. The Mother Confessor counters these parochial interests with a larger view, with direction and leadership.
'Just as the Mother Confessor is the final arbiter of truth through her magic, she is also the final arbiter of power. The word of the Mother Confessor is law.'
'So it is you who tells all the kings and queens, all the lands, what to do?'
She took one of his hands and held it. 'I, and most of the Mother Confessors before me, let the Central Council decide for themselves what they wish, how they want the Midlands ruled. But when they fail to come to agreement, or to a just agreement, it is to the disadvantage of those not represented. Only then do I step in and tell them how it shall be.'
'And they always do as you say?'
'Always.'
'Why?'
She took a deep breath. 'Well, they know that if they don't bow to the Mother Confessor's leadership, they will be alone and vulnerable to any stronger neighbor who craves power. There would be war until the strongest among them crushed all the rest, as Darken Rahl's father, Panis Rahl, did in D'Hara. They know that ultimately it is in their own interest to have an independent council leader, who sides with no land.'
'But it's not in the best interest of the strongest. Something other than a good heart or common sense must keep the strongest of these lands in line.'
She nodded with a smile. 'You understand the games of power well. You are right. They know that if they were bold enough to allow their ambitions a free rein, I, or any of the Confessors, could take their ruler with our magic. But there is more. The wizards back the Mother Confessor.'
'I thought wizards didn't want anything to do with power.'
'They don't, exactly. The threat of their intervention makes it unnecessary. Wizards call it the paradox of power: if you have power, and are ready, able, and willing to use it, you don't need to exercise your power. The lands know that if they don't work together, and use the impartial leadership of the Mother Confessor, then the wizards are always in the background, ready to teach the disadvantages of being unreasonable or greedy.
The whole thing is a very complex, interwoven relationship, but what it all comes down to is that I rule the Central Council, and if I'm not there to do so, the weak, the defenseless, and the peaceful will eventually be overrun, and the rest will be drawn into a war until all but the strongest are crushed.'
Richard sank back to contemplate this with a slight frown on his face. She watched the firelight play on his features. She could feel what he was thinking about: he was remembering the way she had, with only a gesture of her hand, demanded that Queen Milena fall to her knees, kiss the Mother Confessor's hand, and swear loyalty. She wished she hadn't had to show him the power she wielded, and how much she was feared, but what she had done had been necessary. Some deferred only to power. When necessary, a leader had to show that power, or be cut down.
When he looked up at last, his face held a serious cast. 'There is going to be trouble. The wizards are all dead; they killed themselves before they sent you looking for Zedd. The threat backing the Mother Confessor is gone. The other Confessors are all dead, killed by Darken Rahl. You are the last. You have no allies. There is no one to take your place if anything happens to you. Zedd told us to meet him in Aydindril, he must know this too.
'From what I have seen of powerful people, from councilors in my homeland, even my own brother, to queens here, to Darken Rahl, they will view you as a lone obstacle in their way. If the Midlands is to be kept from being torn apart, the Mother Confessor must rule, and you are going to need help. You and I both must serve the truth. I'm going to help you.'
A sly smile parted his lips. 'If those councilors were afraid to plot against the Mother Confessor, or give her trouble, because of the wizards, wait until they meet the Seeker.'
Kahlan touched her fingers to his face. 'You are a rare person, Richard Cypher. You are with the most powerful person in the Midlands. Yet you make me feel as if I am riding your coattails to greatness.'
'I'm nothing more than the one who loves you with all my heart. That is the only greatness I wish to live up to.' Richard sighed. 'It seemed a lot simpler when it was just you and me all by ourselves in the woods, and I cooked you dinner on a stick over an open fire.' He gave her a sidelong glance. 'You are still going to let me cook you dinner, aren't you, Mother Confessor?'
'I don't think Mistress Sanderholt would like that. She doesn't like anyone in her kitchens.'
'You have a cook?'
'Well, I've never seen her cook anything, come to think of it. Mostly she just whisks all about, ruling her domain with a wooden spoon she wields like a scepter, tasting food and scolding cooks, assistants, and scullions. She is the head cook.
'She frets something awful when I come down to the kitchens to cook. Mistress Sanderholt begs me to take up another interest. She says I scare her people. She says they shake for the rest of the day whenever I come to the kitchens and ask for pots. So I try not to do it too often. But I do so like to cook.'
Kahlan smiled at the memory of Mistress Sanderholt. It was long months since she had been home.
'Cooks,' Richard muttered to himself. 'I've never had anyone cook for me. I always cooked for myself.' His smile returned. 'Well, I guess this Mistress Sanderholt will be able to make a little room for me if I want to cook you something special.'
'I would wager that you will soon have her doing whatever it is you wish.'
He squeezed her hand. 'Will you promise me one thing? Promise me that one day you will let me take you back to Westland and show you some of the beautiful places in the Hartland woods, places that only I know of. I've dreamed of taking you to them.'
'I would like that,' Kahlan whispered. Richard leaned forward to kiss her. Before his lips touched hers, before his arms could embrace her, he winced in pain. His head sagged forward against her shoulder as he moaned. Kahlan clasped him to her in fear, then laid him back down as he clamped his arms to his head, unable to breathe. Panic gripped her. He pulled his knees up to his chest as he rolled onto his side.
She braced her hand on his shoulder as she leaned over him. 'I'm going to get Nissel. I'll go fast as I can.'
He could only nod as he shook.
Kahlan ran to the door, pushing it open, out into the still night. She could see her ragged breaths in the frigid air as she pushed the door closed. Her eyes flicked over the short wall. Moonlight washed the top of it with a silver cast.
The chickens were gone.
A dark shape hunched, still, behind the wall.
It moved a little in the moonlight, and there was a quick flash of shiny, golden eyes.
CHAPTER 7
The dark thing rose up, claws rasping over the top of the short wall. It laughed a low cackle that sent goose bumps up her arms to the base of her neck. Kahlan froze. Breath caught in her throat. The form was a black void in the pale moonlight. After the brief flash, the eyes had vanished into a pool of night.
Her mind raced, trying to fit what she knew with what she was seeing. She wanted to run, but didn't know which way. Toward Richard, or away?
Though she couldn't see the eyes, she could feel them, like cold death. The tiniest of sounds rose from her throat. With a howling laugh, the dark shape leaped to the top of the wall.
The heavy door crashed open behind her, banging against the wall of the spirit house. At the same time, she heard the distinctive ring of the Sword of Truth being drawn in anger. The black head snapped toward Richard, the eyes flashing golden again in the moonlight. Richard reached out, snatching her by the arm, and tossed her back through the doorway. As the door rebounded from hitting the wall, he kicked it shut behind himself.
From beyond the door, Kahlan heard a howling laugh, and then there was a crash against the door. She came to her feet, pulling her knife. Through the door she could hear the sword tip whistle, and bodies thudding against the wall of the spirit house. She could hear the screaming howls of laughter.
Kahlan threw her shoulder against the door and rolled out into the night. As she sprang to her feet she saw a small, dark form hurtling toward her. She slashed with her knife and missed.
It came again, but before it was on her, Richard kicked it, slamming it back against the short wall. In the moonlight the Sword of Truth flashed toward the shadow. The blade caught only the wall. A shower of mud-brick fragments and plaster exploded into the air. The thing howled in laughter.
Richard snatched her back just as the dark shape flew past. She caught it with her blade, ripping through something hard - bone hard. A claw flashed past her face, the sword following, missing.
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