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Richard flattened out a small patch of grass and they sat down to wait. They each took turns taking little naps while the other watched to the north. With her hand over his, she watched him sleep and scanned the horizon, and thought about all the times they had done this before, one standing watch, the other sleeping. She longed for the day they could just sleep, and not have to watch. Sleep together. It would happen, she decided, soon enough. Richard would figure out how to close the veil and then it would be over. They could be at peace.
Kahlan slept nuzzled against him with her cloak wrapped tight against the cold. His warmth made her all the more sleepy. She began to wonder if he were right, if the Bantak would come from the north. If they came from the east, there would be a lot of killing. Chandalen would show no mercy. She didn't want the Mud People to be hurt, but she didn't want the Bantak hurt either. They, too, were her people. She drifted into worried sleep, her last thoughts of Richard.
He brought her awake, pressing his arm around her and his hand over her mouth. The sky was just beginning to lighten to their right, to the east. Thin wisps of dark purple clouds bunched near the horizon, as if trying to mask the sunrise with their dark hue. Richard was watching to the north. She was lower than he, and couldn't see anything, but she knew by the tenseness of his muscles that someone was coming.
They lay still, close to the ground, waiting. Gentle breezes rustled the dry grass around them. Kahlan quietly, slowly, slid the cloak from her shoulders. She didn't want there to be any mistake about who she was. The Bantak would recognize her long hair, but she wanted them to see her Confessor's dress, too. She didn't want there to be any doubt who she was and that she was here as the Mother Confessor. Richard shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. Shadows slid through the grass around them.
When there seemed to be men all around, the two of them stood up. Men with spears and bows closest leapt back and screamed yells of surprise. The Bantak were spread out in a long, thin line, advancing toward the Mud People's village. There were excited shouts.
Men swept in from the line, a few surrounding them, most bunched in front. Kahlan stood tall, her hands at her sides. She wore her Confessor's face, a calm that showed nothing, as her mother had taught her. Richard was tight at her side, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Most of the men, in simple hide clothes trimmed with grass, leveled weapons at the two of them. They were clearly nervous about doing so.
"You would dare to threaten the Mother Confessor?" She called out. "Lower your weapons. Now."
Eyes flicked around, looking to see if the two of them were alone. The men seemed to become less sure about pointing spears and arrows at the Mother Confessor; they were doing something unheard of, and they knew it. They looked as if they couldn't decide to keep doing what they were doing, or drop their weapons and fall to their knees. A few of them crouched lower, in half bows.
Kahlan took an aggressive stride toward them. "Now!"
The men flinched, cowering back a little. The points of all the weapons moved from her—to Richard. They appeared to hope this would be an acceptable compromise. It was not what she had expected.
She stepped in front of Richard. All the weapons were once again pointing at her.
"What do you think you are doing," he whispered to the back of her head.
"Just stay quiet. Let me try to do this. We don't have a chance if we can't get them to lower their weapons and talk."
"Why are they doing this? I thought everyone was afraid of the Mother Confessor?"
"They are afraid, but they are used to seeing a wizard with me. They may be more bold because they don't see one now. Even so, they shouldn't be doing this." She took another step forward. "Who speaks for the Bantak? Who among you takes responsibility for allowing the Bantak to threaten the Mother Confessor?"
Not being able to point their weapons at Richard with her in the way, the Bantak lost a bit of their confidence and lowered the points a little. Not all the way, but a little.
At last, an old man approached, pushing through, stopping in front of her. He wore simple hide clothes like the other men, but around his neck hung a gold medallion worked with Bantak symbols. She knew him. He was Ma Ban Grid, the Bantak's spirit guide. His scowl made his heavily wrinkled loose skin seem even more deeply creased than she remembered. She also didn't remember him scowling like this; she remembered only his easy smile.
"I speak for the Bantak," Ma Ban Grid said. He had only two bottom teeth in front. His jaw wobbled easily with the difficult-to-pronounce Bantak words. He glanced at Richard. "Who is this one?"
Kahlan returned Ma Ban Grid's scowl. "Now Ma Ban Grid would question the Mother Confessor before she is welcomed before his eyes?"
The Bantak men shuffled their feet uneasily. Ma Ban Grid did not. His gaze was solid and unwavering. "These are not right times. These are not our lands. We are not here to welcome visitors before the eyes of the Bantak. We have come to kill the Mud People."
"Why?"
Ma Ban Grid peered down his nose at her. "They have invited war, as our spirit brethren have warned us they would. They have proven it by killing one of mine. We must kill them before they can kill us all."
"There will be no war! There will be no killing! I am the Mother Confessor and I will not allow it! The Bantak will suffer by my hand if they do this!"
The band of men broke into worried whispers and moved back a pace. The spirit guide stood his ground.
"The spirit brethren have also told me that the Mother Confessor no longer holds command over the people of the Midlands. They say that as proof, she has been stripped of the company of a wizard." He gave her a smug look. "I see no wizard. As always, the spirits speak true to Ma Ban Grid."
Kahlan stared speechless at the old man.
Richard leaned toward her. "What are they saying?" Kahlan told him what Ma Ban Grid had said. He stepped up next to her. "I want to speak to them. Translate for me?"
Kahlan gave a nod. "They wanted to know who you are. I didn't tell them."
Richard's eyes turned cold with menace. "I will let them know who I am." His voice took on the same cold quality as his eyes. "And they aren't going to like it."
He turned his hawklike glare on the men, deliberately ignoring Ma Ban Grid, and she saw in those eyes the rage of the sword's magic. He was calling the magic forth even as the sword sat in its scabbard. "You men are following an old fool, an old fool by the name of Ma Ban Grid, who is not wise enough to know true spirits from false spirits." The men gasped at the insult. Richard turned his penetrating gaze to Ma Ban Grid. "Is this not true, old fool?"
Ma Ban Grid stammered with anger a moment before he could get any words out. "Who are you to dare to insult me like this!"
Richard glared at him. "Your false spirits told you the Mud People killed one of yours. The false spirits lied to you, and you, in your foolishness, believed them."
"Lie! We found his head! The mud people killed him! They want war with us! We will kill them all. Every last one! They have killed one of mine!"
"I am growing tired of talking to one as stupid as you, old man. The Bantak are a witless people if they put one such as you in charge of talking to the spirit brethren."
"Richard, what are you doing?" she whispered.
"Translate."
When she did, Ma Ban Grid's face reddened more with each word. He looked ready to burst into flames.
Richard leaned closer to him. "The Mud People didn't kill the one that was yours. I did."
"Richard! I can't tell them that. They will kill us."
He continued to glare at Ma Ban Grid as he spoke softly to her. "Something is frightening these people into doing this. They are going to kill us and then go and kill a lot of the Mud People unless I can make them even more frightened of us. Translate."
She let out a noisy breath at him and then told the Bantak what Richard had said. The weapons came back up.
"You! You killed one of mine!"
Richard shrugged. "Yes." He pointe
d at his forehead. "I put an arrow right here. One arrow. Right here. Right through his head, as he was about to put his spear in the back of a man. A man who had no hate in his heart for the Bantak. I killed him as I would kill a coyote sneaking up to steal one of my lambs. One who would take a life by such cowardice deserves to die. One who would listen to false spirits, and send one of his own to do such a thing, does not deserve to lead a people."
"We will kill you!"
"Really? Maybe you will try, but you cannot kill me." Richard turned his back to the old man and walked about twenty paces away, the men opening up to let him pass. He turned back. "I used one arrow to kill one of yours. Use one arrow to try to kill me, and we will see who the good spirits protect. Pick any man you wish. Have him do to me as I did to yours. Shoot me with an arrow." He pointed angrily at his forehead again. "Right here, where I shot the coward who would kill for false spirits!"
"Richard! Have you lost your mind? I'm not going to tell them to shoot you."
