Stone of Tears by Terry Goodkind

  She cuddled against his shoulder. It seemed like forever ago since he found her in Westland, being chased by a quad. It seemed a lifetime ago, not a mere few months. They had been through so much. She was so tired of being afraid, and being chased, hunted. It wasn't fair that just when it was over, it was starting again.

  She gave herself a mental shake. That was the wrong way to see things. It was the problem, not the solution. She forced herself to look at the new problem in its own light, and not color it with what had happened in the past.

  "Maybe it won't be so hard this time. Maybe we can do as you say, and find out what needs to be done, and be finished with it." She kissed his neck. "We'd better get out there; they are waiting. And besides, if I stay here with you any longer, we won't make it to my big comfortable bed."

  *****

  They left the quiet of the spirit house and walked hand in hand through the dark pathways between the buildings of the village. She felt safe holding his hand. From the first day they met, and he offered his hand to her to help her up, she had liked having her hand in his. No one had ever done that before; people were afraid of Confessors. She wanted this over, so they could be together and live in peace. So they could hold hands whenever they wanted, and not ever have to run.

  The sound of the people, the dancing, the conversation, and the children grew louder until the two of them passed into the firelit field. Musicians stood on open, grass roofed platforms, swaying as they drew paddles up and down the carved ripples on the boldas, sending the haunting strains out over the surrounding flat grassland. Arms a blur, men pounded on drums, sending frantic, echoing beats across the village to others who answered or joined in. Dancers in costumes followed one another around in circles, stopping and turning as one, jumping and stomping, acting out stories for the gleeful children and adults who crowded around them. Cooking fires sent sweet smelling smoke and wonderful aromas drifting to them.

  As they walked past, large fires roared and crackled in the center of the field, warming one side of her with their heat. Men proudly wore their finest skins, and women their brightest dresses. All had their hair freshly slicked down with sticky mud. Woven trays of tava bread, roasted peppers, onions, long beans, cabbage, cucumber and beets, bowls of stewed meats, fish, and chicken, as well as platters of boar and venison were carried by young women from the cook fires to people gathered at various shelters. The whole village was in joyful celebration to welcome the ancestors' spirits.

  Savidlin stood at their approach, welcoming them onto the elders' platform. He looked dignified with his official coyote hide around his shoulders. The Bird Man and the other elders gave the two of them smiles and nods. As soon as she and Richard sat cross-legged, the young women brought woven trays and platters of food. They both took a piece of tava bread and rolled them around peppers, careful to put them to their mouths with the right hand only. A boy brought pottery mugs and a jug of water mildly flavored with spices.

  When he was satisfied they were comfortably settled, the Bird Man gave a nod to group of women at a nearby shelter. Kahlan knew what this meant. The women were special cooks, the only ones allowed to prepare the banquet specialties. Richard's eyes watched as one of them came with a woven platter filled with dried meat, neatly arranged in a circular pattern. He gave no sign of his feelings.

  There would be no gathering if he didn't eat this meat. Worse, this was not just any meat. She knew, though, that he was determined, and would eat it.

  The woman bowed her head, holding the platter out to the Bird Man, and then the other elders. After each took some, she offered it to the elders' wives. A few took a piece. She turned and held the platter out to Richard. He looked at it a moment, and then reached up and took one of the larger pieces. He held it in his fingers, looking at it as the woman left after Kahlan declined the offer.

  "I know it is difficult for you," the Bird Man said to Richard, "but it is necessary for you to have the knowledge of our enemies."

  Richard pulled off a big bite with his teeth. "The way is the way." He chewed and swallowed without showing any emotion. He looked off into the distance. "Who is it?"

  The Bird Man watched him a moment after Richard looked back to him. "It is the man you killed."

  "I see."

  He took another bite. He had taken a big piece, and was eating the whole thing to show them his determination to have the gathering, to show them that despite the warning from the spirits, he was resolved to go through with it. He watched the dancers as he chewed, washing each swallow down with a drink from his mug. The elders platform was an isolated island of quiet in the sweep of noise and activity.

  Richard abruptly stopped chewing. His eyes widened. He sat up straighter. His head snapped around to the elders.

  "Where's Chandalen?"

  They looked at one another after studying his face a moment.

  Richard sprang to his feet. "Where's Chandalen!"

  "He is here, somewhere," the Bird Man said.

  "Find him! Right now! Bring him here!"

  The Bird Man sent one of the nearby hunters to search. Richard hopped down off the platform without a word and went to the shelter with the banquet cooks. He found the woman with the platter of meat and took a piece.

  Kahlan turned to the Bird Man. "Do you have any idea what is going on?"

  He nodded solemnly. "He has had a vision; a vision from our enemies flesh. It happens sometimes. That is why we do this—to know what is in our enemies hearts."

  Richard returned and paced back and forth in front of the elders' platform, waiting.

  "Richard, what is it? What do you see?"

  He stopped pacing. The expression on his face was agitated. "Trouble." He resumed his pacing. She asked what sort of trouble, but he didn't seem to even notice the question.

  At last the hunter returned with Chandalen and his men.

  "What would make Richard With The Temper ask for me?"

  Richard shoved the piece of meat at him. "Eat this. Tell me what you see."

  Chandalen watched Richard's eyes as he ate the strip of dried meat. Richard went back to his impatient pacing, pulling off another bite with his teeth. He chewed and paced.

  Finally he could wait no longer. "Well? What do you see?"

  Chandalen watched warily. "An enemy."

  Richard let out an exasperated breath. "Who was this man? From what people?"

  "He was Bantak, from the east."

  Kahlan jumped up. "Bantak!" She hopped down off the platform and stood next to Richard. "Bantak are peaceful. They would never attack anyone. It is against their way."

  "He was a Bantak," Chandalen repeated. "He had black painted on his eyes. He attacked us." He redirected his gaze to Richard. "At least, that is what Richard With The Temper claims."

  Richard went back to pacing. "They're coming," he muttered. He stopped and grabbed Chandalen by the shoulders. "They're coming! They're coming to attack the Mud People!"

  Chandalen frowned. "The Bantak are not fighters. It is as the Mother Confessor says, they are peaceful. They plant crops, herd goats and sheep. We trade with them. This one that attacked us must have been sick in the head. The Bantak know the Mud People are stronger than they. They would not attack us."

  Richard hardly heard the translation. "Get your men together. Get more men. We have to go stop them."

  Chandalen studied him. "We have nothing to fear from the Bantak. They would not attack us."

  Richard nearly exploded. "Chandalen, you are charged with protecting our people! I am telling you there is a threat to them! You must not ignore me in this!"

  He ran his fingers through his hair, calming himself. "Chandalen, don't you think it a little strange that one man would have attacked all of us? Would you, as brave as you are, have come into the open and attacked that many men, by yourself? You, with only a spear, and they with bows?"

  Chandalen only glared. The Bird Man led the other elders off the platform and stood next to Chandalen, facing Richard.
"Tell us what our enemy has revealed to you. Tell us what you have seen."

  "This man..." Richard held the piece of meat up in front of the Bird Man's face. "This man, was the son of their spirit guide."

  The elders broke into worried whispers. The Bird Man didn't move his eyes from Richard. "Are you sure of this? Killing the son of a spirit guide is a grave offense. Even in self-defense. It would be the same if someone killed my offspring, had I one." He lifted an eyebrow. "Grave enough to start a war."

  Richard nodded hurriedly. "I know. That's what they had planned. For some reason, they thought the Mud People were suddenly dangerous to them. To be sure, they sent the son of their spirit guide, knowing that if we killed him, it would be a sign of our hostile intent. They were planning on watching for his head on a pole, to see if they were right. If he didn't return, and they found the head, they were going to attack."

  He waved the meat in front of the elders' faces again. "This man, for some reason, had bitterness in his heart. He wanted there to be a war. He attacked us, knowing he would be killed, wanting it, so it would start the war, and his people could kill all the Mud People. Don't you see? With the banquet going on, they will hear the sounds of it far out onto the plain. They will know we are not prepared to defend ourselves, that we are diverted. They are coming! Now!"

  The elders all leaned back a little. The Bird Man turned to Chandalen.

  "Richard With The Temper has had a vision from our enemy. Have each of your men gather ten others. We must not allow the Bantak to harm our people. You will stop them before they reach the village."

  Chandalen's eyes flashed to Richard, and then back to the Bird Man. "We will see if his vision is true. I will lead our men east. If they are coming, we will stop them."

  "No!" Richard screamed when Kahlan translated. "They will come from the north!"

  "North!" Chandalen glared at him. "The Bantak live to the east, not the north. They will come from the east."

  "They will expect you to defend to the east. They think the Mud people want to kill them. They expect it. They will flank you and come from the north!"

  Chandalen folded his arms. "The Bantak are not fighters. They do not know of such tactics. If they are going to attack us, as you say, they will simply come straight in. As you said, they will hear the banquet; they will know we will be unprepared. They have no reason to go all the way around and come in from the north. It would only slow them down for no reason."

  Richard glared at him. "They are coming from the north."

  "Was this part of your vision?" the Bird Man asked. "Did you see this too, from eating the meat?"

  Richard forced out a breath and looked down. "No. I didn't see it with the rest of the vision." His head snapped back up. "But I know it's true. I don't know how, but I know. They are coming from the north."

  The Bird Man turned to Chandalen. "Perhaps you could split the men. Take some to the east, and some to the north."

  Chandalen shook his head. "No. If the vision proves true, we will need all our men together. One strike, with surprise, with all our men, and with luck, will end it. If there are enough of them, as he seems to think, then they might defeat a number that small, and then they would be upon our people before we could turn them back. Many women and children would be killed. The whole village could fall. It is too dangerous."

  The Bird Man nodded. "Chandalen, a vision has been presented to us. It is your job to keep our people safe. Since the vision did not say which way they would come, only that they would come, I leave it to you to protect us as you see best. You are the smartest fighter among us, I will trust your fighting judgment."

  He frowned and leaned closer to the man. "But know that it had better be a fighting judgment, and not a personal one."

  Chandalen gave a nod. "It is my opinion the Bantak would attack from the east." He glanced at Richard. "If they really come."

  Richard put a hand on Chandalen's folded arm. "Chandalen, please listen to me." His voice was quiet and worried. "I know you don't like me. Maybe you are justified in your feelings. Maybe you are right that I have brought trouble to our people. But trouble is coming now, and it is coming from the north. Please, I beg you, believe me. The lives of all our people depend on this. Hate me all you want, but don't let any of them die because of that hate."

  Richard drew the Sword of Truth and held out the hilt. "I will give you my sword. Go north. If they come from the east, and I am wrong, you may kill me with it."

  Chandalen looked down at the sword, and back up to Richard's face. A small smile spread on his own. "I will not let you trick me. I will not let our people be devastated, just for a chance to kill you. I would rather let you live among us, than let my people be killed. I go to the east." He turned and strode off, shouting instructions to his men.

  Richard stood watching him go, then slid the sword back into its scabbard.

  "That man is a fool," Kahlan said.

  Richard shook his head. "He is just doing what he thinks best. He wants to protect his people more than he wants to kill me. If I had to pick one man to fight beside me, as much as he hates me, it would be him. I am the fool, for not being able to make him see the truth." He turned to her. "I have to go north. I have to stop them."

  Kahlan looked around. "There are some other men here. We will gather all we can and—"

  He shook his head, cutting her off. "No. There wouldn't be enough. Besides, we need every man able to hold a bow or spear here, to defend the village if I fail. The elders must go on with the banquet. We must have the gathering. That is what is most important. I will go alone. I am the Seeker. Maybe I can stop them. Maybe they will listen to one man, see that he isn't so much of a threat."

  "All right. Wait here. I'll be right back."

  "Why?"

  "I have to put on my Confessor's dress."

  "You're not going!"

  "I have to. You can't speak their language."

  "Kahlan, I don't want..."

  "Richard!" She snatched a fistful of his shirt. "I am the Mother Confessor! There will be no war under my nose while I have a say in it! You will wait here!"

  She released his shirt and stormed off. The Mother Confessor didn't wait for answers to her instructions, she expected them to be carried out. She suddenly regretted yelling at Richard, but she was furious at Chandalen for not listening.

  She was furious, too, at the Bantak. She had been to their village before and always found them to be a gentle people. Whatever their reasons, as long as she was around, there was going to be no war. The Mother Confessor was supposed to stop wars, not sit by and watch them start. This was her responsibility, her job, not Richard's.

  At Savidlin and Weselan's home, in the dark with all the noise going on outside, she slipped into her white Confessor's dress. All Confessors wore a dress cut the same, square at the neck, long, simple, free of embellishment, and satiny smooth, but of black fabric.

  Only the Mother Confessor's was white. It was a mantle of power. In the dress, she was not Kahlan Amnell; she was the Mother Confessor, a symbol of the power of truth. With all the other Confessors now dead, the weight of defending the Midlands, those without power, was upon her shoulders.

  It made her feel different now to wear the dress. Before, it had seemed the normal thing to do. Now, since she had met Richard, it seemed a heavier responsibility. Before, she had always felt alone in her job, but now, with him, she felt more of a connection to the people of the Midlands, more one of them, more responsible to them. She knew now what it was to love someone, and to fear for him. She was not going to allow anyone to start a war, not as long as she was the Mother Confessor. She grabbed their heavy cloaks and went back through the passageways to the festivities.

  The elders were standing in front of their platform, where she had left them. Richard was still waiting. She tossed his cloak to him and addressed the elders.

  "Tomorrow night is the gathering. It must go on. We will be back well before then." She turned to the wi
ves. "Weselan, we wish to be married the next day. I'm sorry there isn't more time to prepare, but we must leave as soon as it is done. We must go to Aydindril. We must stop the threat to the Mud People and everyone else."

  Weselan smiled. "Your dress will be ready. I wish we could give you a big wedding feast, but we understand."

  The Bird Man put a hand on her shoulder. "If Chandalen is wrong... Be careful. The Bantak are peaceful, but maybe things have changed. Tell them we wish their people no harm. We do not want war with them."

  Kahlan nodded and flung her cloak around her shoulders as she started off. "Let's go."

  15

  He fell in beside her without objection. Without speaking, they left the village and went north out onto the flat, open grasslands. As they walked, the sounds of the people and boldas and drums faded steadily into a night. The moon wasn't near full, but it gave them enough light to see by as they walked through the waist high, dry grass. Hopefully, it was dark enough to make them poor targets.

  Richard finally glanced over. "Kahlan, I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For forgetting who you are. That you are the Mother Confessor, and that this is your job. I was just worried for you."

  She was surprised by his apology. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have done that. I just don't want there to be any fighting. I'm supposed to keep the people of the Midlands from fighting. It makes me angry when they insist on killing one another. Richard, I'm so tired of seeing people killed. I thought it was over. I can't bear it anymore. I swear I can't."

  He put an arm around her. "I know. Me, too." He gave her shoulder a squeeze as they walked. "The Mother Confessor will put a stop to it." He looked over. She thought he was frowning, but it was too dark to be sure. "With my help."

  She grinned. "With your help." She leaned her head against him a moment. "From now on, always with your help."

  They walked a long way from the village without seeing anything but the black ground and starlit sky. Richard would stop once in awhile to watch the surrounding grassland, and take out a few of Nissel's leaves to chew. Sometime past the middle of the night they came to a slight depression in the landscape. He looked around again and then decided they should wait where they were. It would be better for the Bantak to come upon them, he said, than for the two of them to walk into a surprise.