Wizard's First Rule

Richard knew she was afraid of the snakes-he was, too, and told her so-but she didn't let it interfere with that they had to do. She put her trust in what he said, that the snakes wouldn't come near the sword, and crossed the water without hesitation when he told her to go. They had to traverse the water twice, once with Zedd and Chase, and a second time to retrieve the parts for the litters, as they could only be used on dry land.

They hooked up the poles to the horses, but couldn't use them yet as the tangle of roots on the swamp trail would-cause too jolting a ride. They would have to wait until they were on a better road, once they were clear of the swamp.

It was midmorning before they reached the better road. They stopped long enough to lay their two fallen friends in the litters and cover them with blankets and oilcloth. Richard was pleased to discover that the pole arrangement worked well; it didn't slow them at all, and the mud helped them slide along nicely. He and Kahlan ate lunch on their horses, passing food back and forth as they rode next to each other. They stopped only to check on Zedd and Chase, and continued on through the rain

–+-

Before night came they reached Southaven. The town was little more than a collection of ramshackle buildings and houses fit crookedly in among the oaks and beech, almost as if to turn themselves away from the road, from queries, from righteous eyes. None looked ever to have seen paint. Some had tin patches that drummed in the steady rain. Set in the center of the huddle was a supply store, and next to it a two-story building. A clumsily carved sign proclaimed it to be an inn, but offered no name. Yellow lamplight coming from windows downstairs was the only color standing out from the grayness of the day and the building. Heaps of garbage leaned drunkenly against the side of the building, and the house next door tilted in sympathy with the rubbish pile.

"Stay close to me," Richard said as they dismounted. "The men here are dangerous."

Kahlan smiled oddly with one side of her mouth. "I'm used to their kind."

Richard wondered what that meant, but didn't ask.

Talking trailed off when they went through the door, and all faces turned. The place was about what Richard expected. Oil lamps lit a room filled with a fog of pungent pipe smoke. Tables, all arranged in a haphazard fashion, were rough, some no more than planks on barrels. There were no chairs, only benches. To the left a door stood closed, probably leading to the kitchen. To the right, in the shadows, leading up to the guest rooms, was a stairway minus a handrail. The floor, with a series of paths through the litter, was mottled with dark stains and spills.

The men were a rough collection of trappers and travelers and trouble. Many had unkempt beards. Most were big. The place smelled of ale and smoke and sweat.

Kahlan stood tall and proud next to him; she was a person not easily intimidated. Richard reasoned that perhaps she should be. She stuck out among the riffraff like a gold ring on a beggar. Her bearing made the room even more of an embarrassment.

When she pushed back the hood of her cloak, grins broke out all around, revealing a collection of crooked and missing teeth. The hungry looks in the men's eyes didn't fit the smiles. Richard wished Chase were awake.

With a sinking feeling, he realized there was going to be trouble.

A stout man walked over and halted. He wore a shirt with no sleeves and an apron what looked like it could never have been white. The top of his shiny, shaved head reflected the lamplight, and the curly black hair on his thick arms seemed in competition with his beard. He wiped his hands on a filthy rag before flopping it over a shoulder.

"Something I can do for you?" the man asked in a dry voice. His tongue rolled a toothpick across his mouth as he waited.

With his own tone and eyes Richard let the man know he would brook no trouble. "There a healer in this town?"

The proprietor shifted his glance to Kahlan and then back to Richard. "No."

Richard noted the way, unlike the other men, the man kept his eyes where they belonged when he looked at Kahlan. It told him something important. "Then we would like a room." He lowered his voice. "We have two friends outside who are hurt."

Taking the toothpick out of his mouth, the man folded his arms. "I don't need any trouble."

"Nor do I," Richard said with deliberate menace.

The bald man looked Richard up and down, his eyes snagging for an instant on the sword. With his arms still folded, he appraised Richard's eyes. "How many rooms you want? I'm pretty full."

"One will do fine."

In the center of the room a big man stood. From a mass of long stringy red hair he looked out with mean eyes that were set too close together. The front of his thick beard was wet with ale. He wore a wolf hide over one shoulder. His hand rested on the handle of a long knife.