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She gave a nod, her arms still folded against her stomach. “She must be cold. She didn’t even take a blanket.”

“She didn’t take any food either, other than that loaf of bread she’s saving for some reason, and she was starving.”

Kahlan smiled at last. “She ate more than you and me together. At least her belly is full. Richard, when she gets to Horners Mill…”

“She isn’t going to Horners Mill.”

Kahlan came closer. “But that’s where her grandmother is.”

Richard shook his head. “She doesn’t have a grandmother. When she said her grandmother was in Horners Mill, and I told her she couldn’t go there, she didn’t even falter. She simply said she would go somewhere else. She never gave it a thought, never asked about her grandmother, or even raised an objection. She’s running from something.”

“Running? Maybe from whoever put those bruises on her arms.”

“And on her back. Whenever my hand touched one, she flinched, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to be hugged that badly.” Kahlan’s brow wrinkled with sorrow. “I’d say she was running from whoever cut her hair like that.”

“Her hair?”

He nodded again. “It was meant to mark her, maybe as property. No one would cut someone’s hair like that, except to give a message. Especially in the Midlands, where everyone pays so much attention to hair. It was deliberate, a message of power over her. That’s why I cut it for her, to remove the mark.”

Kahlan stared at nothing in particular. “That was why she was so happy to have it cut even,” she whispered.

“There is more to it, though, than simply running away. She lies easier than a gambler. She lies with the ease of someone who has a powerful need.”

Her eyes came to his again. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “But it has something to do with that loaf of bread.”

“The bread? Do you really think so?”

“She had no shoes, no cloak, nothing but her doll. It’s her most precious possession, she’s devoted to it, yet she let us touch it. But she wouldn’t let us get within an arm’s length of that loaf of bread. I don’t know much about the magic in the Midlands, but where I come from, a little girl will not value a loaf of bread more than her doll, and I don’t think it’s any different here. Did you see the look in her eyes when you reached for the bread, and she snatched it away? If she had had a knife, and you hadn’t backed off, she would have used it on you.”

“Richard,” she admonished, “you can’t really believe that about a little girl. A loaf of bread couldn’t be that important to her.”

“No? You said yourself she ate as much as both of us put together. I was beginning to think she was related to Zedd. Explain why if she was half starved, she hadn’t even nibbled on that loaf of bread.” He shook his head. “There is something going on, and that loaf of bread is at the center of it.”

Kahlan took a step toward him. “So, we’re going after her?”

Richard felt the weight of the tooth against his chest. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No. As Zedd is fond of saying, nothing is ever easy. How can we justify going after one little girl, to solve the riddle of her loaf of bread, while Rahl goes after the box?”

She took his hand in one of hers, looked down at it. “I hate what Darken Rahl does to us, the way he twists us.” She squeezed his hand. “She got into our hearts awfully quick.”

Richard gave her a one-armed hug. “That she did. She’s one special little girl. I hope she finds what she’s after, and that she is safe.” He let go of Kahlan and started for the wayward pine, to get their things. “Let’s get moving.”

Neither wanted to think about how they felt, that they were deserting Rachel, condemning her to the embrace of dangers she knew nothing about and was defenseless against, and so both set their minds to covering as much ground as fast as they could. The bright day wore on with an endless expanse of rugged forest, and with their exertion they didn’t notice the cold.

Richard was always glad when he saw a spiderweb stretched across the trail; he had begun to think of spiders as his guardians. When he had been a guide, he had always been annoyed to have them tickle his face. Thank you, sister spider, he said to himself every time he passed one now.

Near midday, they stopped for a break on sunlit rocks in an icy stream. Richard splashed the frigid water on his face, trying to work up some energy. He was tired already. Lunch was cold, too, and lasted only as long as it took to bolt it down. They both stuffed the last bites in their mouths, brushed their hands off on their pants, and hopped down off the flat, pink rock.

As much as he tried not to think about Rachel, he found himself frowning with worry before he realized he was doing it again. He saw Kahlan’s brow wrinkle sometimes when she turned, checking to the sides. One time he asked if she thought he had made the right decision. She didn’t have to ask which decision he was talking about. She asked how long he thought it would have taken to catch her. He thought two days, if everything went right, at least one to catch her and another back. Two days, she had told him, was more than they could afford. It felt reassuring to hear her say it.

Late in the afternoon, the sun slipped behind a distant peak of one of the mountains of the Rang’Shada, muting and softening the colors of the woods, calming the wind, and settling a stillness over the countryside. Richard was able to set aside his thoughts of Rachel as he concentrated on what they would do when they reached Tamarang.

“Kahlan, Zedd told us we both had to stay away from Darken Rahl, that we have no power against him, no defense.”

She gave a short glance over her shoulder. “That’s what he said.”

Richard frowned. “Well, Shota said the Queen wouldn’t have the box for long.”

“Maybe when she said that, she meant we would get it soon.”

“No, it was a warning, that the Queen wouldn’t have it long, meaning we must hurry. So what if Darken Rahl is already there?”

She looked over her shoulder, then slowed, and walked next to him. “So what if he is? There is no other way. I’m going to Tamarang. Do you wish to wait behind for me?”

“Of course not! I’m only saying we should keep in mind what we are walking into; that Darken Rahl might be there.”

“I have had that thought in my mind for a long time now.”

He walked next to her for a minute without saying anything. At last he asked, “And what have you concluded? What will we do if he is there?”

She stared straight ahead as she spoke. “If Darken Rahl is in Tamarang, and we go there, then in all likelihood—we will die.”

Richard lost a stride; she didn’t wait for him, but walked on.

As the woods grew darker, a few small clouds glowed red, the dying embers of day. The trail had begun following the

Callisidrin River, sometimes taking them close enough for a view of it, and even when it didn’t, they could still hear the rush of its brown waters. Richard hadn’t seen a wayward pine all afternoon. Glancing about at the treetops, he saw no sign of one now, either. As it grew dark, he gave up hope of finding one before nightfall, and so began looking for other shelter. Off the trail a safe distance, he found a short, cleft face of rock at the bottom of a rise. Trees were sheltering all about, and he felt it a well-hidden camp, even if it was open to the sky.

The moon was well up by the time Kahlan had a stew cooking on the fire, and by a bit of luck that surprised him, Richard had two rabbits in the snare before he expected to, and was able to add them to the pot.

“I think we have enough to feed Zedd,” she said.

As if bidden by her words, the old man, white hair in disarray, strode into the circle of light, stopping on the other side of the fire, hands on his hips, his robes looking a little tattered.

“I’m starved!” he announced. “Let’s eat.”

Richard and Kahlan both blinked, wide-eyed, and came to their feet. The old man blinked, too, when Richard drew the sword. In a heartbeat, Richard was over the fire, the sword’s point to his ribs.

“What’s this?” the old man asked.

“Back up,” Richard ordered. They moved, the sword between them, to the trees. Richard eyed the trees carefully.

“Mind if I inquire as to what we’re doing, my boy?”

“I’ve been called by you once, and seen you once, yet neither was you. Third time tricked, marks the fool,” Richard quoted. He saw what he was looking for. “I’ll not be tricked the third time, I’ll not be the fool. Over there.” He pointed with his chin. “Walk between those two trees.”

“I will not!” the old man protested. “Sheath your sword, my boy!”

“If you don’t walk between those two trees,” Richard said through gritted teeth, “I’ll sheath my sword in your ribs.”

The old man lifted his elbows in surprise, then picked up his robes as he stepped through the low brush, muttering to himself while Richard prodded him along with the sword. He took only a quick glance back before stepping between the trees. Richard watched as the spiderweb parted. A grin spread on his face.


Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy