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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 By placing a kiss where she had offered a slap of respect, she had withdrawn her respect for his strength.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. By doing 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 flicking 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 eyes 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 gave a nod.

"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 women brought no honor.

But then, she was no mere woman; she was a Confessor.

Kahlan let out a deep breath as she returned to Savidlin and turned to watch the dragon land. Weselan stood next to him, still hugging Siddin tightly. For his part, Siddin didn't look to want anything else in the world but to be rocked in his mother's arms. Kahlan gave a mental shudder at the thought of what might have happened to him.

Savidlin turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. "You would make a good elder, Mother Confessor. You could give lessons in honor, and leadership."

"I would prefer the lessons weren't necessary."

Savidlin grunted his agreement. Dust and wind kicked up by the dragon's wings fluttered past in fits that billowed her cloak. Kahlan was buttoning her cuff when the two men slid off Scarlet.

The Bird Man looked a little green, but he was a grinning from ear to ear. He stroked a red scale respectfully and beamed at the yellow eye that watched him. Kahlan approached and the Bird Man asked her to translate a message to Scarlet.

She smiled and looked up at the dragon's huge head, at its ears, which were now swiveling toward her. "The Bird Man would like you to know that this has been one of the greatest honors of his life. He says you have given him the gift of a new vision. He says that from this day forward, if you or your young one ever need refuge, you will always be welcome and safe in this land."

Scarlet gave a sort of dragon grin. "Thank you Bird Man. I am pleased." She lowered her head to speak to Richard. "I must leave now. My young one has been alone long enough, and will be hungry."

Richard smiled as he nodded his head. "Thank you, Scarlet. For everything. Thank you for showing us your little one. It is even more beautiful than you. Take care of the both of you. Live free."

Scarlet spread her jaws wide and reached into the back of her mouth. There was a snap, and she brought a tooth point out, held in her black tipped talons. It was only a point, but a good six inches long.

"Dragons have magic," she told him. "Hold out your hand." She dropped the tooth point in Richard's palm. "You seem to have a knack for getting yourself in trouble. Keep this safe. If you ever have great need, call me with it, and I will come. Be certain, as it will only work once."

"But how can I call you with it?"

Her head floated closer to him. "You have the gift, Richard Cypher. Just hold it in your hand and call to me. I will hear. Remember, great need."

"Thank you Scarlet, but I don't have the gift."

Scarlet threw her head back and rumbled in laughter. The ground shook. The scales on her throat vibrated. When her fit of laughter died out in spurts, she tilted her head to look at him with one yellow eye. "If you don't have the gift, then no one does. Live free, Richard Cypher."

Everyone in the village watched in silence as the red dragon grew smaller in the golden sky. Richard put his arm around Kahlan's waist, pulling her close against him.

"I hope that I've finally heard the last of this nonsense about me having the gift," he muttered half to himself. "I saw you from up in the air." He pointed with his chin across the clearing. "You want to tell me what that was all about with our friend over there?"

Chandalen was making a point of not looking at her. "No. It's not important."

*****

"Are we ever going to get to be alone?" Kahlan asked with a coy smile. "Pretty soon I'm going to have to start kissing you in front of all of these people."

Dusk was bringing a cozy, fading light to the impromptu feast. Richard glanced around the grass roofed shelter at the elders in their coyote hides. They were all smiles and chatter. Their wives and a few children had joined the group. People were stopping by the shelter to welcome the two of them back, smiling and exchanging gentle slaps.

Little children across the way were chasing around brown chickens that wanted nothing more than to find a place to roost for the night. The chickens squawked as they made flapping escapes. She couldn't understand how the children could stand to be naked, as cold as it was. Women in bright dresses were bringing woven trays of tava bread and glazed pottery bowls of roasted peppers, rice cakes, long boiled beans, cheese, and r

oasted meats.

"You really think they're going to let us get away before we tell them the whole story of our great adventure?"

"What great adventure? All I remember is being scared to death all the time and being in more trouble than I knew how to get out of." Her insides twisted in pain at the memory of learning he had been captured by a Mord-Sith. "And thinking you were dead."

He smiled. "Didn't you know? That's what an adventure is: being in trouble."

"I've had enough of adventure to last me the rest of my life."

Richard's gray eyes looked distant. "Me, too."

Her gaze went to the red leather rod, the Agiel, which hung on a gold chain around his neck. She reached back and took a piece of cheese from a platter. Her face brightened. She put the cheese to his mouth. "Maybe we can just make up a story that sounds like a proper adventure. A short adventure."

"Suits me," he said and then bit off a chunk of the cheese as she held it to his mouth.

Immediately, he spit the cheese into his hand and made a sour face. "This is awful!" he whispered.

"Really?" She sniffed the piece she still held. She took a tiny bite. "Well, I don't like cheese, but it doesn't taste any worse than usual to me. I don't think it has gone bad."

He was still making the face. "Tastes like it has to me."


Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy