Stone of Tears

The hunters” mud-streaked faces all took on small, tight smiles. The Mud People’s land was probably the only place where it was an insult not to be slapped. “Richard With The Temper has sacrificed more than you could ever know to save our people from Darken Rahl. Why do you hate him?”

“The two of you have brought trouble to my people. You will bring it again.”

“Our people,” she corrected. Kahlan unbuttoned the cuff of her shirt and drew the sleeve up to her shoulder. She pushed her arm up in front of his face. “Toffalar cut me. This is the scar he left as he tried to kill me. That was before I killed him. Not after. He killed himself by attacking me. I did not go after him.”

Without emotion Chandalen’s gaze rose from the scar to her eyes. “Uncle never was very good with a knife. Pity.”

Kahlan’s jaw clenched rigid. She couldn’t back down now.

She kissed the end of her fingers as she held his gaze. Reaching out, she touched the kissed fingers to his cheek where she had slapped him. The hunters broke into angry whispers, yanking their spears from the ground. Chandalen’s face twisted into a hateful glare.

This was the worst insult you could give a hunter. He had given a disrespectful slight by not slapping her. It did not admit to having no respect for her strength, only that he didn’t wish to show it if he did. By placing a kiss where she had offered a slap of respect, she had withdrawn her respect for his strength. The touch of the kiss said she had no respect for his strength and considered him no more than a foolish child. She had as much as spat on his honor publicly.

While this was a dangerous thing to do, it was more dangerous among the Mud People to show weakness to an enemy. That would be an invitation to be murdered in your sleep. Showing weakness denied you the right to face an adversary in the light. Honor required that strength be challenged openly. Since she had done this to him in the view of others, honor required any challenge from him be the same.

“From now on,” she said, “if you want my respect, you must earn it.”

Chandalen’s white-knuckled fist jerked back to his ear, preparing to strike her.

Kahlan held her chin out for him. “so You have decided to show your respect for my strength?”

His glare flicked to something behind her. His hunters flinched and reluctantly thrust the butts of their spears into the ground. Kahlan turned and saw about fifty men with drawn bows. Every arrow was leveled at Chandalen or one of his nine men.

“So,” Chandalen sneered, “you are not so strong. You must ask others to back you.”

“Lower your weapons,” she called back to the men. “No one is to raise a weapon to these men for me. No one. This is between Chandalen and me only.”

Reluctantly, all the bows lowered, and the arrows rattled back into quivers.

Chandalen folded his arms once more. “You are not so strong. You will hide behind the Seeker’s sword, too.”

Kahlan slapped her hand onto his forearm and gripped it tightly. Chandalen’s eyes widened a little as he froze. For a Confessor to place her hand on someone in this manner was an overt threat, and he recognized it as such. Defiant or not, he knew better than to move a muscle; he couldn’t move as fast as her thought, and that was all she needed.

Her voice was a low hiss. “In the last year, I have killed more men than you have falsely boasted to have killed in the whole of your life. If you ever try to harm Richard, I will kill you.” She leaned closer. “If you even dare to express the thought out loud, and it reaches my ears—I will kill you.”

She took in the hunters with a deliberate sweep of her gaze. “My hand will always be extended to each of you in friendship. If any hand extends to me with a knife, I will kill you as I killed Toffalar. I am the Mother Confessor—don’t think I can’t. Or won’t.”

She held the gaze of each hunter in turn until they nodded in acknowledgment. Her hard eyes came at last to Chandalen. Her grip tightened. He swallowed. At last he, too, nodded.

“This is a matter between us I will not speak to the Bird Man of it.” She took her hand from his arm. In the distance, the dragon roared its return. “ We are on the same side, Chandalen. We both fight for the Mud People to live. That part of you, I respect.”

She gave him a very small slap. She offered him no opportunity to return it, or to fail to, and instead turned her back to him. The slap had given him back a small amount of his respect in the eyes of his men, and would make him look foolish and weak if he chose to press an attack now. It was a small offering, but it had shown she acted honorably. She would leave it up to his men to decide if he had. Bullying a woman brought no honor.