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Platters holding little more than scraps of food sat scattered about, along with mugs of various drinks shared at celebrations. While some of the drinks were intoxicating, Kahlan knew the Mud People weren’t given to drunkenness.
“Good morning, honored elder,” Kahlan said in his language.
His leathery face turned up to them, offering a wide smile. “Welcome to the new day, child.”
His attention returned to something out among the people of his village. Kahlan caught sight of Chandalen eyeing the empty mugs before directing an affected smile back at his men.
“Honored elder,” Kahlan said, “Richard and I would like to thank you for the wonderful wedding ceremony. If you have no need of us just now, we would like to go out to the warm springs.”
He smiled and waved his dismissal. “Do not stay too long, or the warmth you get from the springs will be washed away by the rain.”
Kahlan glanced at the clear sky. She looked back at Chandalen. He nodded his agreement.
“He says if we dally at the springs it will rain on us before we’re back.”
Mystified, Richard appraised the sky. “I guess we’d best take their advice and not dally.”
“We’d better be off, then,” she told the Bird Man.
He beckoned with a finger. Kahlan leaned closer. He was intently observing the chickens scratching at the ground not far away. Leaning toward him, Kahlan listened to his slow, even breathing as she waited. She thought he must have forgotten he was going to say something.
At last he pointed out into the open area and whispered to her.
Kahlan straightened. She looked out at the chickens.
“Well?” Richard asked. “What did he say?”
At first, she wasn’t sure she had heard him right, but by the frowns on the faces of Chandalen and his hunters, she knew she had.
Kahlan didn’t know if she should translate such a thing. She didn’t want to cause the Bird Man embarrassment later on, if he had been doing too much celebrating with ritual drink.
Richard waited, the question still in his eyes.
Kahlan looked again at the Bird Man, his brown eyes staring out at the open area before him, his chin bobbing in time to the beat of the boldas and drums.
She finally leaned back until her shoulder touched Richard. “He says that that one there”—she pointed—“is not a chicken.”
3
Kahlan pushed with her feet against the gravel and glided backward into Richard’s embrace. Lying back as they were in the waist-deep water, they were covered to their necks. Kahlan was beginning to view water in a provocative new light.
They had found the perfect spot among the web of streams flowing through the singular area of gravel beds and rock outcroppings in the vast sea of grassland. Runnels meandering past the hot springs a little farther to the northwest cooled the nearly scalding water. There were not many places as deep as the one they had chosen, and they had tested several of those at various distances from the hot springs until they found a warm one to their liking.
Tall tender shoots of new grasses closed off the surrounding country, leaving them to a private pool capped with a huge dome of sunny sky, although clouds were beginning to steal across the edges of the bright blue. Cold breezes bowed the gossamer grass in waves and twisted it around in nodding whorls.
Out on the plains the weather could change quickly. What was warm spring the day before had turned frigid. Kahlan knew the cold wouldn’t linger; spring had set in for good even if winter was blowing them a departing kiss. Their refuge of warm water rippled under the harsh touch of that forget-me-not.
Overhead, a harrier hawk wheeled on the sharp winds, searching for a meal. Kahlan felt a twinge of sorrow, knowing that while she and Richard were relaxing and enjoying themselves, talons would soon snatch a life. She knew something of what it was like to be the object of carnal hunger when death was on the hunt.
Distantly stationed, somewhere off in the expanse of grasslands, were the six hunters. Cara would be circling the perimeter like a mother hawk, checking on the men. Kahlan guessed that, being protectors, each would be able to understand the other’s purpose, if not language. Protectors were charged with a serious duty, and Cara respected the hunters’ sober attention to that duty.
Kahlan scooped warm water onto Richard’s upper arms. “Even though we’ve had only a short time for ourselves, for our wedding, it was the best wedding I could have imagined. And I’m so glad I could show you this place, too.”
Richard kissed the back of her head. “I’ll never forget any of it—the ceremony last night, the spirit house, or here.”
She stroked his thighs under the water. “You’d better not, Lord Rahl.”
“I’ve always dreamed of showing you the special,
beautiful places near where I grew up. I hope someday I can take you there.”
He fell silent again. She suspected he was considering weighty matters, and that was why he seemed to be brooding. As much as they might sometimes like to, they couldn’t forget their responsibilities. Armies awaited orders. Officials and diplomats back in Aydindril impatiently awaited an audience with the Mother Confessor or the Lord Rahl.
Kahlan knew that not all would be eager to join the cause of freedom. To some, tyranny had its appeal.
Emperor Jagang and his Imperial Order would not wait on them.
“Someday, Richard,” she murmured as her finger stroked the dark stone on the delicate gold necklace at her throat.
Shota, the witch woman, had appeared unexpectedly at their wedding the night before and given Kahlan the necklace. Shota said it would prevent them from conceiving a child. The witch women had a talent for seeing the future, although what she saw often unfolded in unexpected ways. More than once Shota had warned them of the cataclysmic consequences of having a child and had vowed not to allow a male child of Kahlan and Richard’s union to live.
In the struggle to find the Temple of the Winds, Kahlan had come to understand Shota a little better, and the two of them had reached an understanding of sorts. The necklace was a peace offering, an alternative to Shota trying to destroy their offspring. For now, a truce had been struck.
“Do you think the Bird Man knew what he was saying?”
Kahlan squinted up at the sky. “I guess so. It’s starting to cloud up.”
“I meant about the chicken.”
Kahlan twisted around in his arms. “The chicken!” She frowned into his gray eyes. “Richard, he said it wasn’t a chicken. What I think is that he’s been celebrating a bit too much.”
She could hardly believe that with all the things they had to worry about, he was puzzling over this.
He seemed to weigh her words, but remained silent. Deep shadows rolled over the waving grass as the sun fled behind the billowing edge of towering milky clouds with hearts of greenish slate gray. The bleak breeze smelled heavy and damp.
