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She regarded him as if he were hopelessly thick. "Because we can't spend the night here after we kill them."
Richard leapt to his feet. "Kill them! You don't even know who is coming, and already you plan to kill them?"
Sister Verna stood, drawing herself up straight, and peered into his eyes. "Richard, I have done my best to prevent this. Have we seen anyone else before now? No. Even though these people cover this land like a swarm of angry ants, we have seen no one. I have led us between anyone I could sense with my Han, in an effort to avoid contact. I have done my best to avoid trouble. Sometimes, even when you do your best, trouble cannot be avoided. I do not want to kill these people, but they are intent on killing us."
That certainly explained why they had been traveling such a peculiar route. Although they had been heading steadily southeast for weeks, they had done so in an odd fashion. Without ever explaining, she had directed them first one way, then another, occasionally backtracking, but always, relentlessly, southeast.
The barren land had become progressively rockier and more desolate. He had not bothered asking about their route because he didn't think she would tell him, and because he didn't care. Wherever they went, he was still a prisoner.
Richard scratched his new beard as he started kicking dirt over the fire. It was a warm night, as most had been lately. He wondered what had happened to winter. "We don't even know who they are yet. You can't just go killing anyone that shows up."
"Richard." She clasped her hands together. "Not all the Sisters who try to return are successful. Many are killed trying to cross these lands. In every case, there were three Sisters. I am but one. Not good odds."
The horses nickered and began moving about, tossing their heads and pawing their hooves. Richard strapped the baldric over his shoulder. He checked that the sword was clear in its scabbard.
"You were wrong, Sister, not to try to get away as soon as you knew. If you have to fight, it should be because there is no other way. You didn't even try."
Hands still clasped together, she watched him. Her voice was soft but firm. "These people are intent upon killing us, Richard. Both of us. If we had tried to run, this one would have alerted the others, and brought hundreds, thousands, to bring us down. I have not run so as to embolden this one into trying to take us himself, so we can end the threat."
"I'm not killing people for you, Sister Verna."
As they glared at each other, he heard a scream: a woman's scream. He stared out into the night, trying to see into the shadows of the rocky spires, trying to see where the scream came from. He couldn't see anyone, but the screams and cries were coming closer.
Richard kicked dirt over the last of the flames and sprinted to the horses, calming them with reassuring words and gentle strokes. He didn't care what she said, he wasn't killing people on her word. The woman was crazy not to want to try to escape.
She probably wanted a fight, just to see what he would do. She was always watching him as if he was a bug in a box. She questioned him every time he practiced trying to touch his Han. Whatever the Han was, he hadn't been able to sense it, much less touch it or call it forth. Just as well, as far as he was concerned.
Richard was starting toward the saddlebags, to gather the rest of their things, when a woman came running out of the night. Cloak flying behind, and crying in terror, she ran headlong into their camp. She let out a wail and dashed desperately for him.
"Please!" she cried out. "Please help me! Please don't let them get me!"
Her loose hair streamed behind as she ran. The naked fear on her face ran a shiver up Richard's spine. She stumbled as she reached him. Richard caught her frail form in his arms. Her dirty face was streaked with sweat and tears.
"Please, sir," she sobbed, looking up at him with dark eyes, "please don't let them get me. You don't know what those men will do to me."
Richard's mind filled with the fright of remembering Kahlan being pursued by the quads. He remembered how terrified she had been of those men, and how she had spoken almost the same words: you don't know what those men will do to me.
"No one is going to get you. You are safe now."
The woman's arms came out from under her cloak, slipping around him. Her dark eyes stayed on his as he held her weight.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead gave a little grunt and jerked. Light seemed to flash from within her eyes. She went slack and heavy in his arms.
Richard looked up into Sister Verna's unwavering gaze as she yanked the silver knife from the woman's back. Richard felt himself letting the dead weight slip to the ground. The woman slumped fluidly and rolled onto her back.
The night air rang with the sound of steel as Richard drew the sword.
"What's the matter with you?" he hissed. "You have just murdered this woman."
Sister Verna returned his glare in kind. "I thought you said you held no foolish prohibitions against killing women."
The wrath of the sword's magic pounded through him, raging to be set free. "You are mad." He was rushing toward a lethal precipice. The sword's point rose in anger.
"Before you would think to kill me," Sister Verna said in a measured tone, "you had better make sure you are not making a mistake." Richard didn't answer. He was incapable of speaking through the fury. "Look in her hand, Richard."
He looked down at the lifeless body. Her hands were covered by her heavy woolen cloak. Using the sword, he flicked the cloak back off her arm to reveal a knife still gripped in her dead fist. The point had a dark stain on it.
"Did she scratch you with the knife?"
Richard's chest still heaved with anger. "No. Why?"
"Her knife is coated with poison. All it would take is a scratch."
"What makes you think it was meant for me! She was probably hoping to defend herself from the men who are chasing her!"
"There are no men chasing her. She is a sentry. You are always telling me to stop treating you like a child, Richard. Stop acting like one. I know about these people, how they do things. She meant to kill us."
He could feel the muscles in his jaw flex as he gritted his teeth. "We could have tried to get away when she first spotted us."
She nodded. "Yes, and we would have died. I am telling you, Richard, I know these people. The wilds are layered like an onion with different peoples, all of whom will kill us if they find us. Had we let her reach her kind, they would have caught us and killed us.
"Don't let the anger of your sword close your eyes. She has a poison knife in her hand, she had it to your back, and she fell into your arms to be able to get close enough to use it. You foolishly let her do so." She turned a little and swept an arm behind. "Where are the ones chasing her?" She let the arm drop to her side. "There is no one else. I could sense them with my Han if there were. She was alone. I have just saved your life."
He drove the Sword of Truth back into its scabbard. "You have done me no great favor, Sister Verna."
He didn't know what to believe. He knew only that he was sick of magic, and weary of death. "What is that knife you keep up your sleeve? What is the light in their eyes when you kill with it?"
"It is called a Dacra. I guess it could be compared to the poison blade she was carrying. With the Dacra it is not the wound itself that kills; t
he Dacra extinguishes the spark of life." Her eyes lowered. "It is a painful thing to steal a life. Sometimes, it is the only way. This, tonight, was the only way to save our lives, whether you choose to believe it or not."
"All I know, Sister Verna, is that you use it without hesitation, and that you didn't even try anything else." He started to turn away. "I'm going to bury her."
"Richard." She smoothed her skirt. "I hope you understand, and that you don't misinterpret our actions, but when we reach the Palace, we may have to take the Sword of Truth from you. For your own good."
"Why? How could that be for my own good?"
She clasped her hands together again. "The prophecy that you have invoked, the one that says 'he is the bringer of death, and he shall so name himself', is a very dangerous Prophecy. It goes on to say that the holder of the sword is able to call the dead forth, call the past into the present."
"What does that mean?"
"We don't know."
"Prophecies," he muttered. "Prophecies are just stupid riddles, Sister. You invest too much concern in them. You admit that you don't understand them, yet try to follow them. Only a fool follows blindly what he doesn't understand. If it were true, I would call the dead forth and give this woman's life back to her."
"We know a lot more about them that you think. I believe it would be for the best if we took the sword, just for safekeeping, until we understand the Prophecy better."
"Sister Verna, if someone took the Dacra from you, would you still be a Sister?"
"Of course. The Dacra is simply a tool to help us in our job. It doesn't make us who we are."
He smiled a cold smile. "It is the same with the sword. With or without it, I am still the Seeker. I would be no less a danger to you. Taking it away from me will not save you."
Her fists tightened. "It is not the same."
"You are not taking the sword," he said flatly. "You could never understand how much I hate this sword, hate its magic, and how much I wish to be rid of it, but it was given to me when I was named Seeker. It was given to me to be mine for as long as I wish to hold it. I am the Seeker, and I, not you, or anyone else, will decide when I am to give it up."
