Stone of Tears

Richard 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 the 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. She hoped that 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 a while 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.

Richard flattened out a small patch of grass and they sat down to wait. They each took turns taking little naps while the other watched to the north. With her hand over his, she watched him sleep and scanned the horizon, and thought about all the times they had done this before, one standing watch, the other sleeping. She longed for the day they could just sleep, and not have to watch. Sleep together. It would happen, she decided, soon enough. Richard would figure out how to close the veil, and then it would be over. They could be at peace.

Kahlan slept nuzzled against him with her cloak wrapped tight against the cold. His warmth made her all the more sleepy. She began to wonder if he was right, if the Bantak would come from the north. If they came from the east, there would be a lot of killing. Chandalen would show no mercy. She didn’t want the Mud People to be hurt, but she didn’t want the Bantak hurt either. They, too, were her people. She drifted into worried sleep, her last thoughts of Richard.

He brought her awake, pressing his arm around her and his hand over her mouth. The sky was just beginning to lighten to their right, to the east. Thin wisps of dark purple clouds bunched near the horizon, as if trying to mask the sunrise with their dark hue. Richard was watching to the north. She was lower than he, and couldn’t see anything, but she knew by the tenseness of his muscles that someone was coming.

They lay still, close to the ground, waiting. Gentle breezes rustled the dry grass around them. Kahlan quietly, slowly, slid the cloak from her shoulders. She didn’t want there to be any mistake about who she was. The Bantak would recognize her long hair, but she wanted them to see her Confessor’s dress, too. She didn’t want there to be any doubt who she was and that she was here as the Mother Confessor. Richard shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. Shadows slid through the grass around them.

When there seemed to be men all around, the two of them stood up. Men with spears and bows closest leapt back and screamed yells of surprise. The Bantak were spread out in a long, thin line, advancing toward the Mud People’s village.

There were excited shouts. Men swept in from the line, a few surrounding them, most bunched in front. Kahlan stood tall, her hands at her sides. She wore her Confessor’s face, a calm that showed nothing, as her mother had taught her. Richard was tight at her side, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Most of the men, in simple hide clothes trimmed with grass, leveled weapons at the two of them. They were clearly nervous about doing so.

“You would dare to threaten the Mother Confessor?” she called out. “Lower your weapons. Now.”

Eyes flicked around, looking to see if the two of them were alone. The men seemed to become less sure about pointing spears and arrows at the Mother Confessor; they were doing something unheard of, and they knew it. They looked as if they couldn’t decide to keep doing what they were doing, or drop their weapons and fall to their knees. A few of them crouched lower, in half bows.

Kahlan took an aggressive stride toward them. “Now!”