Stone of Tears (22 page)

Kahlan was a little surprised at his sudden change of subject. “Yes, his magic wouldn’t work against them.”

“That’s because Zedd has only Additive Magic. That’s all any wizard with the gift has: just the Additive. Darken Rahl had the gift for Additive but he had somehow learned to use Subtractive. Zedd had no defense against Subtractive Magic. Neither did you. Wizards created the Confessor’s magic, and wizards have only Additive Magic.” She nodded with a frown for him to go on. “So then how did you kill them?”

“I went into the Con Dar.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the Confessor’s magic, but I had never before known known how to use it. It was something to do with rage. It means ‘Blood Rage’.”

“Kahlan, do you realize what you are saying? You had to have used Subtractive Magic. Otherwise, how could you have defeated them? Zedd’s magic didn’t work, and your regular magic didn’t work, because those men were protected from Additive Magic. You must have Subtractive Magic. But if wizards of long ago created your Confessor’s magic, how can it have an element of Subtractive to it?”

She stared at him. “I don’t know. I never thought about it, but it must be as you say. Maybe when we get to Aydindril, Zedd can explain it.”

With a frown, he pulled another arrow from the bundled grass. “Maybe. But why would Confessors have Subtractive Magic?” His frown deepened. “I wonder if that was what you did with the lightning.”

Richard with the gift, and her with Subtractive Magic. Two frightening thoughts. She shivered, but not from the cold.

They shot arrows the rest of the afternoon, until the daylight began to dim. Her shoulders and arms were weary from pulling the bowstring. She told him she couldn’t shoot another arrow if her life depended on it, and told him to shoot some arrows before they went back, so his headache would be gone for a while. As she watched him, it occurred to her she hadn’t tried to distract him while he shot, and he had promised she could try.

Kahlan stepped up close behind him. “Time to see if you are really as good as you think you are.”

When he drew back the bowstring, she tickled his ribs. He didn’t flinch; he shot the same as before. But he laughed and squirmed after the arrow was away. She kept trying as he shot, but wasn’t able to distract him. She became more determined. If tickling wouldn’t work, she would just have to try something else.

Kahlan pressed up against his back as he concentrated on aiming, and smoothly unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. She slipped her hand inside and ran it over his chest. His skin was taut over his hard muscles. He felt good. Warm. Strong. Hard.

She unbuttoned more buttons to better extend her reach. She ran the fingers of one hand through the back of his hair as the other roamed across his stomach. Richard kept shooting.

She started to forget about distracting him as she kissed the back of his neck. He giggled and hunched his shoulders after the arrow was away. He nocked another arrow. At last, she had all the buttons undone and was feeling all of the front of his torso, all the way down to his belt. Kahlan pulled the shirt tails out of his pants and ran both hands over his body, one high, one low. It didn’t keep him from hitting the target. She couldn’t break his concentration. Her breathing quickened.

She decided she was going to win this game. She smiled as she pressed harder against him and reached further.

“Kahlan!” he gasped. “Kahlan … that’s not fair!” He still had the bowstring drawn, but his aim was starting to wander. He worked to steady it.

She drew his earlobe gently between her teeth and kissed his ear. “You said you have to be able to shoot no matter what is happening,” she whispered as she pushed her hand further.

“Kahlan …” His voice was high and strained. “That isn’t fair … that’s cheating!”

“No matter what. Those were your exact words. You have to be able to make the shot under pressure.” She ran her tongue into his ear. “Is this enough pressure, my love? Can you do it? Can you make the shot?”

“Kahlan …” he panted, “you’re cheating …”

She gave a throaty laugh and squeezed. He gasped and released the bowstring. By its flight, she knew that was one arrow they would never find.

“I think you missed,” she breathed in his ear.

He twisted around in her arms, dropping his bow. His face was red as he enclosed her in his arms.

He kissed her ear. “Not fair,” he whispered, his breath hot. “You cheat.” The touch of his lips on her ear made her gasp.

She held on tight as he pulled her hair away and put his warm mouth to her neck. It made her shiver. She hunched her shoulder against his face and half-moaned, half-laughed as the world tilted and she found herself on the ground under him. She managed to get out most of, “I love you,” before his lips covered hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She couldn’t get her breath. She didn’t want to.

Just as she was starting to wonder when his hands were going to get even for what she had done, Richard leapt to his feet.

He drew his sword in a rush.

The passion in his eyes had been replaced by rage. Anger from the Sword of Truth flashed in his expression. The ring of steel was carried away by the wind. He stood with his shirt open, his chest exposed and heaving with fury. She pushed herself up on her elbows.

“Richard, what is it?”

“Something is coming. Get behind me. Now!”

Kahlan sprang to her feet, snatched up her bow, and nocked an arrow. “Some
thing?
”

A ways off, she saw the grass moving, and it wasn’t the wind.

A splotchy gray head bobbed toward them through the long grass. Whatever it was, it wasn’t very tall. Kahlan wondered if it could be another screeling. At that thought, she drew her bowstring back until the arrow’s point was at her grip on the bow and the string against her cheek. She frantically worried if she could make the shot if it came at them. Although, from what she had seen of a screeling before, an arrow, she realized, would do no good. She wondered if she could call the lightning again.

Richard lifted his arm in front of her. “Wait.”

A squat, hairless figure with long arms and big feet, dressed only in pants held up with straps, broke through the grass in front of them. Blinking yellow eyes gazed up at her pointing the arrow between them.

A sharp-toothed grin split its face. “Pretty lady.”

It was the witch woman Shota’s companion.

“Samuel!” Richard growled. “What are you doing here?”

The beastly creature hissed and reached for the sword. “Mine! Gimme!”

Richard brandished the blade menacingly and Samuel, pouting, snatched his arm back. Richard laid the sword’s tip on the gray folds of skin at Samuel’s neck. “I asked, what are you doing here?”

Hateful eyes peered up. “Mistress wants you.”

“Well, you can just go home by yourself. We’re not going to Agaden Reach.”

He regarded Richard with one yellow eye. “Mistress not in the Reach.” He turned, stretching up on his toes to look over the grass, and pointed a long, thick finger back toward the Mud People’s village. “Mistress waits for you there. Where those people live together.” He glared back at Richard. “She said if you don’t come, she will kill them, and Samuel can cook them in a stew.” His grin returned.

Richard gritted his teeth. “If she has hurt anyone …”

“She said she will not hurt them … if you come to her.”

“What does she want?”

“You.”

“What does she want with me?”

“Mistress not tell Samuel. Tells me only to get you.”

Kahlan had relaxed half the tension on the bowstring. “Richard, Shota said she would kill you if she ever saw you again.”

He kept his eyes on Samuel as he spoke. “No. She said she would kill me if I ever went back to Agaden Reach. She’s not in the Reach.”

“But …”

“If I don’t go, she said she will kill people. Do you doubt her?”

“No … but she still might kill you.”

He grunted and then smiled. “Kill me? I don’t think so. She likes me. I saved her life. Indirectly at least.”

Kahlan bristled. Shota had once tried to bewitch him, and she didn’t like that one bit. Other than the Sisters of the Light, the witch woman was just about the last person Kahlan ever wanted to see again. “I don’t like it.”

Richard stole a quick glance at her. “If you have a better idea, put words to it.”

Kahlan let out an angry breath. “I guess we have no choice. But you just keep her hands off you.”

Richard gave her a startled look, then turned to the witch woman’s companion. “You take the lead, Samuel, and don’t forget who’s carrying the sword. And remember what I told you the last time. I might still have some Samuel stew if you try doing anything to harm us.”

Samuel eyed the blade a moment. Without another word he turned and started off, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they followed. Richard kept the sword out, slung his bow over his shoulder, and put himself between Kahlan and Samuel. The anger of the sword’s magic blazed in his eyes. Samuel loped through the grass ahead of them, turning back occasionally to hiss at them.

Kahlan stayed close on Richard’s heels. “She’d better not put snakes on me again. No snakes!” she said emphatically. “And I mean it.”

“As if we have a choice,” Richard muttered.

It was near dark by the time they reached the village. They came in from the east, and noticed immediately that the entire population of the village was clustered at the south end of the common field, shielded by armed hunters standing shoulder to shoulder. Kahlan knew the Mud People were deathly afraid of the witch woman. They wouldn’t even speak her name aloud.

For that matter, everyone she ever knew was deathly afraid of the witch woman—including her. Shota would have killed her the last time if Richard hadn’t used a wish Shota had granted him, to save her. She didn’t think Shota would be granting Richard any more wishes.

Samuel led them through the narrow passageways, toward the spirit house, walking as if he had lived here all his life. He gurgled his odd laugh as he bounded along, giving them an occasional glance. He grinned with bloodless lips, as if he knew something they didn’t. When his grin showed too many teeth and Richard prodded him with the sword, Samuel growled and hissed, his yellow eyes glowing in the fading light.

Samuel laid his long-fingered hand on the latch to the spirit house. “Pretty lady waits here. With me. Mistress wants only Seeker.”

“Richard, I’m going in too,” Kahlan said firmly.

He gave her a sidelong glance and then looked at Samuel. “Open the door.”

One powerful arm drew the door back, as shining yellow eyes glowered at him. Richard held his sword out, indicating he wanted her to go in. The door squeaked closed behind them, with a sour-faced Samuel on the other side.

In the center of the room sat a tall, elegant throne. Torchlight danced and flared on the carved, gold-leaf vines, snakes, cats and other beasts that covered every inch of the stately structure. A canopy draped with heavy red, brocade and trimmed with gold tassels jutted out overhead. The throne itself sat atop three square, white, marble platforms that served as steps. The whole thing was massive and imposing. Tufted red velvet covered the seat, back, and tops of the arms. Kahlan couldn’t imagine how it could have possibly fit through the door. Or how many men it must have taken to carry it.

Shota sat regally, her impassive almond eyes watching Richard. She reclined slightly, against the red velvet, one leg crossed over the other, her arms resting on the chair’s high, wide spaced arms, with hands draped haughtily over gold gargoyles. The gargoyles licked her wrists while she clicked one long, lacquered fingernail against a thumbnail. Luxuriant auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders.

Shota redirected her ageless eyes to Kahlan. The long, rock solid gaze felt as if it paralyzed her, penetrated her. A red, white, and black banded snake slumped down, hanging from the canopy. It flicked its tongue at Kahlan, hissing, and then dropped into Shota’s lap, coiling up like a contented cat.

It was a message to say that she had not been invited, and was now warned of what would happen if Shota became displeased. Kahlan swallowed, trying not to let it show. After what seemed an eternity, and after the witch woman seemed satisfied the message was understood, she turned her unblinking eyes back to Richard.

“Put your sword away, Richard.” Shota’s voice was like smooth velvet rubbed the right way. Kahlan didn’t think it was fair that anyone that beautiful should also be graced with a voice that could melt butter, or a man’s heart.

“From the impression you left when we parted, I fear you might try to kill me.” His voice, also, was annoyingly smooth.

“If I decide to kill you, my dear boy, and I may, your sword will not help you.” Richard suddenly yelped and dropped the sword as if it was a hot coal. He stared down at the sword as he comforted his hand. “Now, put it away.” That time the quality of her voice was more of velvet rubbed the wrong way.

From under his eyebrows, Richard looked up at Shota on her throne, before bending to retrieve his sword and slide it back into its scabbard.

A self-satisfied smile spread across to Shota’s full lips. She lifted the snake from her lap and set it aside. Shota watched Richard a moment longer and then stood, leaning forward enough in the process to offer her breasts the opportunity to fall out of her wispy, low cut, variegated gray dress. How they managed not to, Kahlan didn’t know. A little stoppered bottle tumbled from its snug place between her breasts and swung on a fine silver chain.

Kahlan’s face heated as Shota gracefully descended the three platforms, never taking her eyes from Richard. The loose points of the dress floated gently, as if in a light breeze. But there was no breeze inside the spirit house. That fabric, Kahlan decided, was definitely too thin for a dress. She wondered what she would look like in it, and blushed at the mental image.

Once standing on the ground, Shota turned and pulled the stopper from the little bottle. The entire throne wavered, like something seen through heat waves. Abruptly it turned to gray smoke and swirled in a circle, diminishing all the time in size, and sucked itself into a fine line that went into the little bottle. Shota replaced the stopper, tucked the bottle back between her breasts, and with a finger, pushed it so far down it could no longer be seen. Kahlan took a deep, noisy breath.

Shota’s gaze glided from Richard’s eyes and took in his open shirt with what might have been amusement. Or satisfaction. Richard’s face reddened.

Shota’s smile widened. “How delightfully indecent.” She ran one of her long, red nails all the way down his chest to his navel, and then she gently patted his stomach. “Button your shirt, Richard, or I may forget why I’m here.”

His face turned a deeper red. Kahlan moved deliberately closer to his side as he began redoing the buttons.

“Shota,” he said as he tucked the tails in his pants, “I have to thank you. You may not know it, but you really helped me before. Helped me to figure it out.”

“It was my intention to help you.”

“You don’t understand. I mean you helped me figure out how to be with Kahlan. You helped me figure out how we could be together. How to love her.” He smiled. “We’re going to be married.”

There was a moment of icy silence.

“That’s right,” Kahlan said, holding her chin up, “we love each other … and can be together now … Forever.” She hated the way Shota made her feel explanations were necessary, and the way she fumbled with them.

Shota’s intense gaze slid to her and her smile slowly evaporated, making Kahlan have to swallow again. “You ignorant children,” Shota whispered as she slowly shook her head. “You foolish, ignorant children.”

Richard’s expression was becoming heated. “We may be ignorant, but we are not children, and we love each other. And we are going to be married. I was hoping you would be happy for us, Shota, since you played a small part in it.”

“What I told you, dear boy, was that you needed to kill her.”

“But that’s all over,” Kahlan protested. “The problem has been solved. It’s all right for us now. Everything is all right.”

Kahlan gasped as she felt her feet lift off the ground. Both she and Richard were flung across the room and up against the wall. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Little points of light floated and danced before her eyes. She looked down, trying to clear her vision.

She and Richard were flattened against the mud-brick wall, a good three feet off the ground. She could hardly breathe. The only thing she could move was her head. Even her clothes were flattened. Her cloak lay against the wall as if it were the floor. Richard was as helpless as she. They both struggled, twisting their heads, but it was useless; they were stuck tight.

Shota glided across the room toward them, her eyes hot and dangerous. She stopped in front of Kahlan. “He didn’t need to kill you? And it’s all right now, is it, Mother Confessor?”

“Yes,” Kahlan managed, trying to sound confident as she hung helpless.

“Did it ever occur to you, Mother Confessor, that perhaps there are reasons behind what I say?”

“Yes, but that has all …”

“Did it ever occur to you, Mother Confessor, that there is a reason why Confessors are not supposed to love their mates? And perhaps another reason he should have killed you?” Kahlan couldn’t answer. Her mind raced with frantic thoughts.

“What are you talking about?” Richard demanded.

Shota ignored him. “Did it, Mother Confessor?”

Kahlan’s throat was so dry, she had to swallow twice before she could speak. “What do you mean? What reason?”

“Have you lain with this man you love? Have you done that yet, Mother Confessor?”

It was Kahlan’s turn to blush. “What kind of question is that to ask someone!”

“Answer the question, Mother Confessor,” Shota hissed, “or I will skin you right now and use your hide to make myself something pretty. I am of a mind to do it anyway. You had better not even think of lying to me.”

“I … We … No! And what business is it of yours anyway!”

Shota stepped closer. Her eyes sent a silent shriek through Kahlan. “Maybe you’d better think twice before you do, Mother Confessor.”

“What do you mean?” she breathed, wide-eyed.

Shota folded her arms across her breasts. Her voice became more menacing. “Confessors are not supposed to love their mates, because if they bear a male child, she has to ask the husband to kill the baby. The husband is supposed to have been taken by the Confessor’s power, so that he will do whatever she asks. Without question.”

“But …”

Shota stepped even closer, her eyes filled with fury. “If you love him, how could you ask that of him! How could you ask Richard to kill his son? Do you think he would? Would you? Would you kill the son of the man you love? Would you, Mother Confessor?”