Stone of Tears tsot-2 Page 9

  Richard held out the carved bone whistle hanging from a leather thong at his neck as he turned to the Bird Man. “You gave me this as a gift, but told me it would never aid me because I could only call all the birds at once. I think maybe the good spirits wanted it that way. This gift helped me save everyone from Darken Rahl. It helped me save Kahlan. Thank you.”

  The Bird Man smiled at the translation. Richard whispered in Kahlan’s ear that he would be back in a short time, and then climbed up on Scarlet.

  “Honored elder, Scarlet and I would like to give you a small gift. We would like to take you up in the air, so you may see where your beloved birds fly.” He extended a hand to the Bird Man.

  The elder, upon hearing the translation, looked apprehensively at Scarlet. Her vibrant red scales were glossy in the late-afternoon sun, undulating with her breathing. Her tail reached nearly to the mud-brick homes across the field. The dragon unfolded her wings and lazily stretched them. He looked at Richard, who was still offering his hand to him. A little-boy grin lit the elder’s face. It made Kahlan laugh. He clasped Richard’s arm and hoisted himself up.

  Savidlin strode over and stood by Kahlan as the dragon rose into the air. The people cheered their approval as they watched the dragon lifting their honored elder into the air. Kahlan wasn’t seeing the dragon. She saw only Richard. She could hear the Bird Man laughing as Scarlet carried them up and away. She hoped he was still laughing after Scarlet made a turn.

  Savidlin glanced at her. “He is a rare person, Richard With The Temper.”

  She smiled and nodded. Her gaze went across the way, to the man who wasn’t cheering or happy. “Savidlin, who is that man?”

  “Chandalen. He blames Richard for Darken Rahl coming here and killing people.”

  The Wizard’s First Rule came to her mind: People will believe anything. “If it wasn’t for Richard, Darken Rahl would rule us all now, the same Darken Rahl who killed those people.”

  Savidlin shrugged. “Not everyone who has eyes can see. Remember the elder you killed? Toffalar? That was his uncle.”

  She nodded absently. “Wait here.”

  Kahlan walked across the field, pulling the tie from her hair as she went. She was still dazed by the knowledge that Richard loved her and that he couldn’t be harmed by her magic. It was hardly possible to believe she, a Confessor, could ever experience love. It went against everything she had ever been taught. She just wanted to take Richard somewhere alone and kiss him and hug him until they were old.

  There was no way she was going to allow this man, Chandalen, to bring any harm to Richard. Now that she and the man she loved could somehow, magically, be together, she wasn’t going to allow anything to jeopardize that.

  The mere thought of anyone harming Richard brought the Blood Rage, the Con Dar, boiling up inside her. She had never known about the Con Dar before, had never known it was part of her magic, until she brought it forth when she thought Richard had been killed. Since then, she felt it within her, just as she always felt the rest of the Confessor’s magic.

  With his arms folded across his chest, Chandalen watched her come. His hunters stood behind him, leaning on spears planted butt-first in the ground. Apparently, they had just returned from a hunt; their lean bodies were still smeared with sticky mud. They stood easy but alert. Bows were slung over their shoulders and quivers hung at one side of their belts, long knives at the other. There were smears of blood on some of the men. Grass tied in bands at their upper arms and around their heads helped make them invisible in the surrounding grassland when they chose to be. Kahlan stopped in front of Chandalen, looking into his dark eyes. She slapped him. “Strength to Chandalen.” He pulled his glare from her, arms still folded, turned his head, and spat. His fierce eyes came back to hers. “What do you want, Confessor?”

  The hunters’ mud-streaked faces all took on small, tight smiles. The Mud People’s land was probably the only place where it was an insult not to be slapped. “Richard With The Temper has sacrificed more than you could ever know to save our people from Darken Rahl. Why do you hate him?”

  “The two of you have brought trouble to my people. You will bring it again.”

  “Our people,” she corrected. Kahlan unbuttoned the cuff of her shirt and drew the sleeve up to her shoulder. She pushed her arm up in front of his face. “Toffalar cut me. This is the scar he left as he tried to kill me. That was before I killed him. Not after. He killed himself by attacking me. I did not go after him.”

  Without emotion Chandalen’s gaze rose from the scar to her eyes. “Uncle never was very good with a knife. Pity.”

  Kahlan’s jaw clenched rigid. She couldn’t back down now.

  She kissed the end of her fingers as she held his gaze. Reaching out, she touched the kissed fingers to his cheek where she had slapped him. The hunters broke into angry whispers, yanking their spears from the ground. Chandalen’s face twisted into a hateful glare.

  This was the worst insult you could give a hunter. He had given a disrespectful slight by not slapping her. It did not admit to having no respect for her strength, only that he didn’t wish to show it if he did. By placing a kiss where she had offered a slap of respect, she had withdrawn her respect for his strength. The touch of the kiss said she had no respect for his strength and considered him no more than a foolish child. She had as much as spat on his honor publicly.

  While this was a dangerous thing to do, it was more dangerous among the Mud People to show weakness to an enemy. That would be an invitation to be murdered in your sleep. Showing weakness denied you the right to face an adversary in the light. Honor required that strength be challenged openly. Since she had done this to him in the view of others, honor required any challenge from him be the same.

  “From now on,” she said, “if you want my respect, you must earn it.”

  Chandalen’s white-knuckled fist jerked back to his ear, preparing to strike her.

  Kahlan held her chin out for him. “So you have decided to show your respect for my strength?”

  His glare flicked to something behind her. His hunters flinched and reluctantly thrust the butts of their spears into the ground. Kahlan turned and saw about fifty men with drawn bows. Every arrow was leveled at Chandalen or one of his nine men.

  “So,” Chandalen sneered, “you are not so strong. You must ask others to back you.”

  “Lower your weapons,” she called back to the men. “No one is to raise a weapon to these men for me. No one. This is between Chandalen and me only.”

  Reluctantly, all the bows lowered, and the arrows rattled back into quivers.

  Chandalen folded his arms once more. “You are not so strong. You will hide behind the Seeker’s sword, too.”

  Kahlan slapped her hand onto his forearm and gripped it tightly. Chandalen’s eyes widened a little as he froze. For a Confessor to place her hand on someone in this manner was an overt threat, and he recognized it as such. Defiant or not, he knew better than to move a muscle; he couldn’t move as fast as her thought, and that was all she needed.

  Her voice was a low hiss. “In the last year, I have killed more men than you have falsely boasted to have killed in the whole of your life. If you ever try to harm Richard, I will kill you.” She leaned closer. “If you even dare to express the thought out loud, and it reaches my ears—I will kill you.”

  She took in the hunters with a deliberate sweep of her gaze. “My hand will always be extended to each of you in friendship. If any hand extends to me with a knife, I will kill you as I killed Toffalar. I am the Mother Confessor—don’t think I can’t. Or won’t.”

  She held the gaze of each hunter in turn until they nodded in acknowledgment. Her hard eyes came at last to Chandalen. Her grip tightened. He swallowed. At last he, too, nodded.

  “This is a matter between us I will not speak to the Bird Man of it.” She took her hand from his arm. In the distance, the dragon roared its return. “We are on the same side, Chandalen. We both fight for the Mud People to
live. That part of you, I respect.”

  She gave him a very small slap. She offered him no opportunity to return it, or to fail to, and instead turned her back to him. The slap had given him back a small amount of his respect in the eyes of his men, and would make him look foolish and weak if he chose to press an attack now. It was a small offering, but it had shown she acted honorably. She would leave it up to his men to decide if he had. Bullying a woman brought no honor.

  But then, she was no mere woman; she was a Confessor. Kahlan let out a deep breath as she returned to Savidlin and turned to watch the dragon land. Weselan stood next to him, still hugging Siddin tightly. For his part, Siddin didn’t look to want anything else in the world but to be rocked in his mother’s arms. Kahlan gave a mental shudder at the thought of what might have happened to him.

  Savidlin turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. “You would make a good elder, Mother Confessor. You could give lessons in honor, and leadership.”

  “I would prefer the lessons weren’t necessary.” Savidlin grunted his agreement. Dust and wind kicked up by the dragon’s wings fluttered past in fits that billowed her cloak. Kahlan was buttoning her cuff when the two men slid off Scarlet.

  The Bird Man looked a little green, but he was grinning from ear to ear. He stroked a red scale respectfully and beamed at the yellow eye that watched him. Kahlan approached, and the Bird Man asked her to translate a message to Scarlet.

  She smiled and looked up at the dragon’s huge head, at its ears, which were now turning toward her. “The Bird Man would like you to know that this has been one of the greatest honors of his life. He says you have given him the gift of a new vision. He says that from this day forward, if you or your young one ever need refuge, you will always be welcome and safe in this land.”

  Scarlet’s snout twisted into a sort of dragon grin. “Thank you, Bird Man. I am pleased.” She lowered her head to speak to Richard. “I must leave now. My young one has been alone long enough, and will be hungry.”

  Richard smiled as he stroked a red scale. “Thank you, Scarlet. For everything. Thank you for showing us your little one. It is even more beautiful than you. Take care of the both of you. Live free.”

  Scarlet spread her jaws wide and reached into the back of her mouth. There was a snap, and she brought a tooth point out, held in her black-tipped talons. It was only a point, but a good six inches long.

  “Dragons have magic,” she told him. “Hold out your hand.” She dropped the tooth point in Richard’s palm. “You seem to have a knack for getting yourself in trouble. Keep this safe. If you ever have great need, call me with it, and I will come. Be certain, as it will only work once.”

  “But how can I call you with it?”

  Her head floated closer to him. “You have the gift, Richard Cypher. Just hold it in your hand and call to me. I will hear. Remember, great need.”

  “Thank you, Scarlet, but I don’t have the gift.”

  Scarlet threw her head back and rumbled in laughter. The ground shook. The scales on her throat vibrated. When her fit of laughter died out in spurts, she tilted her head to look at him with one yellow eye. “If you don’t have the gift, then no one does. Live free, Richard Cypher.”

  Everyone in the village watched in silence as the red dragon grew smaller in the golden sky. Richard put his arm around Kahlan’s waist, pulling her close against him.

  “I hope that I’ve finally heard the last of this nonsense about me having the gift,” he muttered half to himself. “I saw you from up in the air.” He pointed with his chin across the clearing. “You want to tell me what that was all about with our friend over there?”

  Chandalen was making a point of not looking at her. “No. It’s not important.”

  “Are we ever going to get to be alone?” Kahlan asked with a coy smile. “Pretty soon I’m going to have to start kissing you in front of all of these people.”

  Dusk was bringing a cozy, fading light to the impromptu feast. Richard glanced around the grass-roofed shelter at the elders in their coyote hides. They were all smiles and chatter. Their wives and a few children had joined the group. People were stopping by the shelter to welcome the two of them back, smiling and exchanging gentle slaps.

  Little children across the way were chasing brown chickens that wanted nothing more than to find a place to roost for the night. The chickens squawked as they made flapping escapes. She couldn’t understand how the children could stand to be naked, as cold as it was. Women in bright dresses were bringing woven trays of tava bread and glazed pottery bowls of roasted peppers, rice cakes, long boiled beans, cheese, and roasted meats.

  “You really think they’re going to let us get away before we tell them the whole story of our great adventure?”

  “What great adventure? All I remember is being scared to death all the time and being in more trouble than I knew how to get out of.” Her insides twisted in pain at the memory of learning he had been captured by a Mord-Sith. “And thinking you were dead.”

  He smiled. “Didn’t you know? That’s what an adventure is: being in trouble.”

  “I’ve had enough of adventure to last me the rest of my life.”

  Richard’s gray eyes looked distant. “Me, too.” Her gaze went to the red leather rod, the Agiel, which hung on a gold chain around his neck. She reached back and took a piece of cheese from a platter. Her face brightened. She put the cheese to his mouth. “Maybe we can just make up a story that sounds like a proper adventure. A short adventure.”

  “Suits me,” he said, and then bit off a chunk of the cheese as she held it to his mouth.

  Immediately, he spit the cheese into his hand and made a sour face. “This is awful!” he whispered.

  “Really?” She sniffed the piece she still held. She took a tiny bite. “Well, I don’t like cheese, but it doesn’t taste any worse than usual to me. I don’t think it has gone bad.”

  He was still making the face. “Tastes like it has to me.”

  Kahlan thought a minute, and then frowned. “Yesterday at the People’s Palace, you didn’t like the cheese there either. And Zedd said there was nothing wrong with it.”

  “Nothing wrong with it! It tasted rotten! I ought to know, I love cheese. I eat it all the time. I know bad cheese when I eat it.”

  “Well, I hate cheese. Maybe you’re just picking up my habits.”

  He rolled a roasted pepper in a piece of tava bread and grinned. “I could think of a worse fate.”

  As she returned the smile, she saw two hunters approaching. Her back stiffened. Richard noticed her reaction and sat up straighter. “These are two of Chandalen’s men. I don’t know what they want.” She gave him a wink. “Be a good boy? Let’s not have an adventure.”

  Without smiling or answering, he turned and watched the two come. The hunters stopped in front of her at the edge of the platform. They planted the butts of their spears firmly in the ground, leaning on them with both hands. They both assessed her with slightly narrowed eyes and small, tight smiles that weren’t entirely unfriendly. The one closest pushed his bow a little farther up on his shoulder and then extended an open hand to her, palm up.

  She looked down at the hand. She knew what it meant—an open hand offered without a weapon in it. She glanced up at him in confusion. “Does Chandalen approve of this?”

  “We are Chandalen’s men. Not his children.” He kept the hand out.

  Kahlan looked at it a moment and then stroked her palm over his. His smile widened a little and he gave her a gentle slap.

  “Strength to Confessor Kahlan. I am Prindin. This is my brother, Tossidin.”

  She gave Prindin a slap and wished him strength. Tossidin held his palm open to her. She stroked it with hers. He gave her a slap and added his wish of strength. He had a handsome smile that matched his brother’s. Surprised by his friendliness, she returned his slap and greeting. Kahlan glanced to Richard. The brothers noticed the look, and in response both gave Richard a slap and greeting.

  �
��We wanted to tell you that you spoke with strength and honor today,” Prindin said. “Chandalen is a hard man, and a hard man to get to know, but he is not a bad man. He cares deeply for our people and wants only to protect them from harm. That is what we do—protect our people.”

  Kahlan nodded. “Richard and I are Mud People, too.” The brothers smiled. “The elders have proclaimed it for all to know. We will protect you both, the same as any other of our people.”

  “Will Chandalen?”

  Both grinned, but neither answered. They pulled their spears up, readying to leave.

  “Tell them I said they have fine bows,” Richard said. She glanced sideways to see him watching the two. She told his words to Prindin.

  They smiled as they nodded. “We are very good with them.”

  Richard’s expressionless gaze stayed on the two brothers. “Tell them I think their arrows look to be well made. Ask if I may see one.”

  Kahlan frowned at him before translating for the hunters. The brothers beamed with pride. Prindin pulled an arrow from his quiver and handed it to Richard. Kahlan noticed that the elders were all quiet. Richard rolled the arrow in his fingers. Betraying no emotion, he looked at the nock and then turned it around and looked at the flat, metal point. He handed the arrow back. “Very fine work.” As Prindin replaced the arrow in his quiver, Kahlan told him what Richard had said. He slid a hand partway up his spear and leaned a little of his weight on it. “If you know how to shoot a bow, we would invite you to come with us tomorrow.” Before she could translate, Savidlin spoke to her. “Richard told me before, when you were here last, that he had to leave his bow behind in Westland, and that he missed it. As a surprise, I made him one, for when you both came back. It is a gift to him for teaching me how to make roofs that do not leak. It is at my home. I was going to give it to him tomorrow. Tell him, and tell him that if he agrees, I would like to take some of my hunters and go with him tomorrow.” He smiled. “We will see if he is as good a shot as our hunters.”

  The brothers grinned and nodded their enthusiasm. They looked to be confident of the results of the contest. Kahlan told Richard what Savidlin had said.