"Do you know where they're from?"
"I've been almost everywhere in the Midlands. I've never heard of them being seen anywhere. And I've asked."
Richard let go of her and put a fist on his hip. With his other hand, he squeezed his lower lip to a point as he thought. Finally he folded his arms and turned around. "The gift. So we're back to the gift. I thought we were done with this nonsense. I don't have the gift!"
She knitted her fingers together. "Richard please, let's just get away. If a wizard was afraid of the Sisters of the Light... Let's just get away from here."
"And what if they follow? What if they catch up with us when the headache has me flat on my back, when I'm defenseless?"
"Richard, I don't know anything about them. But if a wizard is that afraid of them. ...What if we are defenseless right now?"
"I am the Seeker. I am not defenseless. But I might be later. Better to meet them on my terms than theirs. And I'm tired of hearing about the gift! I don't have it and I'm going to put an end to this nonsense right now."
She took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. I guess the Seeker and the Mother Confessor are not without defenses."
He gave her a stern look. "You're not coming."
"Do you have a rope?"
Richard frowned. "No. Why?"
She lifted an eyebrow. "You will have a hard time stopping me if you don't have a rope to tie me up."
"Kahlan, I'm not letting you..."
"And I'm not giving you a chance to have a look at a woman you might fancy more than me, without being there to give her a whack."
He watched her with an exasperated expression, and then leaned forward and kissed her. "All right. But let's not have an 'adventure'?"
She smiled. "We will just tell these three you don't have the gift, send them on their way, and then I'm going to give you a serious kiss."
The sky was darkening into a deep blue when they reached the spirit house. Three strong horses were tethered a short distance away. Their saddles were different from any she had seen before, with high pommels and cantles. As they paused in front of the door, the air was cold enough to show their breath. Richard and Kahlan gave each other a smile and a squeeze of the hand. Richard checked that the sword was clear in its scabbard. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Kahlan wore her Confessor's face, as her mother had taught her.
The inside of the spirit house was lit by a small fire and two torches in brackets, one to each side of the fireplace. Their packs still sat to the side. The air smelled of pitch and the balsam scented sticks that were always burned in the spirit house to make the ancestors' spirits welcome. Torchlight flickered on the skulls of ancestors sitting on a single shelf. The dirt floor was dry, since Richard had used the spirit house to teach the Mud People to make roofs that didn't leak.The three women stood straight and tall in the center of the single-roomed, windowless building. Their brown, heavy wool cloaks hung almost to the ground. The hoods were up, partly shadowing their faces. They wore long, divided riding skirts of different, dark, muted colors and simple white blouses.
The one in the middle, a few inches taller than the other two, but not as tall as Kahlan, had brown hair with some curl and body to it. The one to her right had straight, black, shoulder length hair, and the other's was curly, short, and dark, with streaks of gray. Each had her hands clasped at ease in front of her.
It was the only thing at ease about them. Their mature faces wore looks that reminded Kahlan of the head mistress of the maidservants back in Aydindril. It was a countenance of authority they appeared to have held so long that it had worn permanent creases. Kahlan took a second glance at their hands to see if they were empty; they looked like they should be carrying switches. Their eyes watched, as if ready to silence any impudence.
The woman in the middle spoke. "You two are Richard's parents?" Her voice wasn't quite as harsh as Kahlan expected, but still carried a clear tone of authority.
Richard glowered at them, looking as if just the his look might push the three back a pace. He waited until the glare caused them to blink, before he spoke. "No. I am Richard. My parents are dead. My mother since I was young, and my father since the end of summer."
The three exchanged sidelong glances.
Kahlan saw the anger in his eyes. He was bleeding magic from the sword without even drawing it. She could tell the sword was only a blink away from coming out. She could see by the look in his eyes that would not hesitate if these women did anything wrong.
"That is not possible," the taller one in the center said. "You are... old."
"Not as old as you," Richard snapped.
Their cheeks colored. The woman's eyes flashed an angry scowl, but she quickly softened it. "We did not mean to say you are old, we meant to say you are older than we expected. I am Sister Verna Sauventreen."
The black haired woman to her right spoke. "I am Sister Grace Rendall."
"I am Sister Elizabeth Myric," the third said.
Sister Verna turned her stern expression on Kahlan. "And who would you be, child."
Kahlan didn't know if it was Richard's attitude causing it, but she felt her blood heating, too. She gritted her teeth. "I am not your 'child'. I am the Mother Confessor." Kahlan's tone could carry authority, too, when she wished it to.
It was almost imperceptible, but the three flinched. Together, they bowed their heads slightly.
"Forgive us, Mother Confessor."
The air of threat in the spirit house was still palpable. Kahlan realized her hands were fists. It came to her that she felt this way because they were a threat to Richard. She decided it was time to act like the Mother Confessor.
"Where are you three from?" she asked in an icy voice.
"We are from... far away."
Kahlan's glare was beginning to match Richard's. "In the Midlands, a bow to the Mother Confessor is done on at least one knee." It was a custom she almost never had any interest in enforcing, but she felt the need now.
The three leaned back as one, standing straighter. Their indignant frowns deepened.
It was enough to bring out the sword.
The distinctive ringing of steel hung in the air. Richard said nothing; he simply stood holding the sword in both hands. Kahlan could see his muscles straining to be released. The Sword of Truth's magic danced dangerously in his eyes. She was glad his glower wasn't directed at her; it was frightening. The three didn't appear to be as frightened by it as she would have expected, but they turned to her, and together, went to one knee, bowing their heads again.
"Forgive us, Mother Confessor," Sister Grace said. "We are not familiar with your customs. We meant no offense." They kept their heads down.
Kahlan waited the appropriate period, and then added a few long seconds. "Rise, my children."
When they came to their feet, they pushed their hoods back and clasped their hands in front again.
Sister Verna took a deep, impatient breath. "We are not here to frighten you, Richard. We are here to help you. Put the sword away." The last held a harsh hint of command to it.
Richard didn't move. "I was told you said you came for me, whatever that means, and that I must not run. I haven't been running. I am the Seeker. I will decide when to put away the sword."
"The Se... ," Sister Elizabeth almost shouted. "You are the Seeker?"
The three exchanged looks again.
"State your business," Richard said. "Now."
Sister Grace took an impatient breath this time. "Richard, we are not here to harm you. Are you that afraid of three women?"
"Even one woman is cause enough for fear. I have learned that lesson the hard way. I no longer harbor foolish inhibitions about killing women. Last time offered: state your business, or this conversation is ended."
She glanced to the Agiel around his neck. "Yes, we can see you have learned some lessons." Her face softened a little. "Richard, you need our help. We have come because you have the gift."
Richard looked at e
ach of them before he again spoke. "You have been seriously misinformed. I don't have the gift nor do I want anything to do with it."
He slid the sword back into its scabbard. "I'm sorry you have come a long way for nothing." He took Kahlan's arm. "The Mud People don't like outsiders. Their weapons are tipped with poison, and they are not shy about using them. I will tell them to grant you safe passage out of their land. I advise you not to test their restraint."
Richard led Kahlan by the arm toward the door. She could feel the rage radiating from him, could see the anger in his eyes, and something else, too: his headache. She could see the pain he suffered.
"The headaches will kill you," Sister Grace said quietly.
Richard froze in his tracks. His chest was heaving. He stared ahead at nothing. "I have had headaches all my life. I am used to them."
"Not like these," Sister Grace pressed. "We can see it in your eyes. We recognize the headaches of the gift. It is our job."
"There is a healer here who is taking care of them. She is very good. She has already helped me, and I am confident she will soon cure me of them."
"She can't. No one can but us. If you don't let us help you, the headaches will kill you. That is why we are here; to help you, not to bring you to harm."
Richard's hand stretched for the latch. "You needn't concern yourselves about me. I am not cursed with the gift. Everything is under control. Safe journey to you, ladies."
Kahlan gently put her hand on his arm, preventing him from reaching the latch. "Richard," she whispered. "Maybe we should at least listen to them. What harm can there be in listening to them? Perhaps you could learn something useful to help the headaches."