Though the light was fading, the cloudy day had been the brightest in longer than she could remember, and it had helped to lift her spirits. Mostly, though, what helped her was the way Richard had treated her. He had let her have time to recover from last night without asking her anything. He had just held her, let her be.
Even though nothing more had happened, she felt closer to him than she ever had, but at the same time, she knew that was not a good thing. It only deepened her dilemma. She had almost made a very big mistake last night. The biggest mistake of her life. She was relieved that he had pulled her back from the brink. At the same time, part of her wished he hadn’t.
When she woke this morning, she didn’t know how he would feel about her, if he would be hurt, angry, or hate her. Even though she lay bare-chested against him all night, she turned her back to him in embarrassment while she buttoned her shirt. As her fingers slipped the buttons back in place, she told him that no one had ever had a friend as patient as the one she had. She said she only hoped that someday she could prove to be as good a friend as he was.
“You already have. You have placed your trust, your life, in my hands. You have pledged your life in defense of me. What more proof could I have?”
She turned, and resisting mightily the urge to kiss him, thanked him for putting up with her.
“I will have to admit, though,” he said, smiling, “that I will never look at an apple in quite the same way.”
That made her laugh, partly in embarrassment, and they both laughed together a long time. Somehow, it made her feel better, and took away what could have been a thorn.
Suddenly Richard stopped in his tracks. She stopped, too, as the others walked on.
“Richard, what is it?”
“The sun.” He looked pale. “For a moment, a shaft of sunlight was on my face.”
She turned to the west. “All I see are clouds.”
“It was there, a small opening, but I don’t see it either, now.”
“Do you think it means something?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But it’s the first time I’ve seen even the slightest break in the clouds since Zedd put them there. Maybe it’s nothing.”
They started walking again, the eerie sounds of the boldas carrying to them across the windswept, flat grasslands. By the time they reached the village, it was dark. The banquet was still going on, as it had all last night, as it would tonight, until the gathering was over. Everyone was still going strong, except the children; many of whom walked around in a sleepy stupor or slept contentedly in corners here and there.
The six elders were on their platform, their wives gone. They were eating a meal being served by special women: cooks who were the only ones allowed to prepare the gathering feast. Kahlan watched them pour a drink for each of the elders. It was red, different from any other drink at the banquet. The eyes of the six were glazed, far off, as if they were seeing things others didn’t. Kahlan felt a chill.
Their ancestors’ spirits were with them.
The Bird Man spoke to them. When he seemed satisfied by whatever it was they told him, he nodded and the six rose, walking in a line toward the spirit house. The sound of the drums and the boldas changed in a way that ran bumps up her arms. The Bird Man strode back to them, his eyes as sharp and intense as ever.
“It is time,” he told her. “Richard and I must go now.”
“What do you mean, ‘Richard and I’? I’m going too.”
“You cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because a gathering is only men.”
“I am the Seeker’s guide, I must be there to translate.”
The Bird Man’s eyes shifted about in an uncomfortable manner. “But a gathering is only men,” he repeated, seemingly unable to come up with a better reason.
She folded her arms. “Well, this one will have a woman.”
Richard looked from her face to the Bird Man’s and back again, knowing by the tone of her voice that something was going on, but deciding not to interfere. The Bird Man leaned a little closer to her, lowered his voice.
“When we meet the spirits, it must be as they are.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me that you can’t wear clothes?”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “And you must be painted with mud.”
“Fine,” she said, holding her head up. “I have no objections.”
He leaned back a little. “Well, what about the Seeker? Maybe you would like to ask him what he feels about you doing this.”
She held his eyes for a long time, then turned to Richard. “I need to explain something to you. When a person calls a gathering, they are sometimes asked questions by the spirits, through the elders, to be sure they are acting of noble intent. If you answer a question in a way that a spirit ancestor finds dishonorable or untruthful… they may kill you. Not the elders, the spirits.”
“I have the sword,” he reminded her.
“No, you won’t. If you want a gathering, you must do as the elders do, face the spirits with nothing but yourself. You can wear no sword, no clothes, and you must have mud painted on you.” She took a breath, pushed some hair back over her shoulder. “If I am not there to translate, you may get killed simply because you cannot answer a question you don’t understand. Then Rahl wins. I must be there to interpret. But if I’m there, I, too, can wear no clothes. The Bird Man is in a fret, and wishes to know what you think of this. He is hoping you will forbid me from doing this.”
Richard folded his arms, looking her in the eye. “I think you are bound and determined, one way or another, to have your clothes off in the spirit house.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, and his eyes sparkled. Kahlan had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. The Bird Man looked from one to the other, confused.
“Richard!” She spoke his name in a rising tone of caution. “This is serious. And don’t get your hopes up. It will be dark.” Still, she could hardly keep from laughing.
Richard’s face regained its seriousness as he turned to the Bird Man. “I called the gathering. I need Kahlan there.”
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She could almost see him flinch at the translation. “You two have been stretching my limits from the moment you arrived.” He gave a loud sigh. “Why should it change now? Let’s go.”
Kahlan and Richard walked side by side, following the Bird Man’s silhouette as he led them off through the dark passageways of the village, turning to the right several times, then the other way. Richard’s hand found hers. Kahlan was a lot more nervous about this than she let on, about sitting naked with eight naked men. But she was not about to let Richard go into the gathering without her. This was no time to let it all slip away from them: they had worked too hard; time was too short.
She put on her Confessor’s face.
Before they reached the spirit house, the Bird Man took them through a narrow doorway, into a small room in a building nearby. The other elders were there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly ahead. She smiled at Savidlin, but he didn’t respond. The Bird Man picked up a small bench and two clay pots.
“When I call your name, come out. Wait until then.”
As the Bird Man took his bench and pots with him, squeezing sideways out the door, Kahlan told Richard what he had said. In a while he called Caldus’s name, and after a time, each of the other elders in turn, Savidlin last. Savidlin did not speak to them or even acknowledge that he knew they were there. The spirits were in his eyes.
Kahlan and Richard sat in silence in the empty, dark room, waiting. She picked at the heel of her boot, trying not to think about what it was she had committed herself to, yet unable to think of anything else.
Richard would be unarmed, without his sword, his protection. But she would not be without her power. She would be his protection. Though she had not spoken it, that was the other reason she had to be in there. If anything went wrong, it was going to be she who died, not him, that much she knew. She would see to it. She steeled herself, went into herself. She heard the Bird Man call out Richard’s name. He rose to his feet.