When he reached the sister who had cut down the attack, she had vanished, and so he was looking for another. One of them was going to tell him where Kahlan was. If he had to kill every Sister of the Dark at the palace, one of them was going to talk.
Two Blood of the Fold caught sight of him and came up the path at a dead run. Richard waited. Their swords caught only air. He took them down with his knife almost without thinking about it, and was moving again before the second man had finished pitching face-first to the ground.
He had lost track of the number of the Blood of the Fold he had killed since the battle had begun. He ripped through them only if they attacked him; he wasn’t able to avoid all the soldiers he saw. If they came at him, it was by their choice, not his. It wasn’t them he wanted—it was a Sister.
Near a wall, Richard hugged the moon shadows beneath a clump of aromatic, spreading witch hazels as he moved toward one of the covered walkways. He flattened against a pilaster in the wall as he saw a shape dart from the walkway. As it approached he could tell by the flow of hair and the shape that it was a woman.
At last, he had a Sister.
When he stepped out in front of her, he saw a the flash of a blade slashing toward him. He knew that every Sister carried a dacra; it was probably that, rather than a knife. He also knew how deadly a dacra was, and how skilled they were with the weapon. He dared not take the hazard lightly.
Richard whipped his leg around, kicking the weapon from her hand. He would have broken her jaw so she couldn’t cry out for help, but he needed her to be able to talk. If he was fast enough, she would raise no alarm.
He caught her wrist, sprang up behind her back, snatched her other fist as she brought it up to hit him, and clamped her wrists together with one hand. He swept his knife arm around her throat and with a yank, toppled back. As he landed on his back, with her atop his chest, he hooked his legs over hers to keep her from kicking him. She was pinned and helpless in a heartbeat.
He pressed the blade to her throat. “I’m in a very bad mood,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t tell me where the Mother Confessor is, you are going to die.”
She panted, catching her breath. “You are about to slit her throat, Richard.”
For what seemed an eternity, his mind, filtering her words through his fury, tried to make sense of what she had said. It seemed a riddle to him.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to cut my throat?” she asked, still panting.
It was Kahlan’s voice. He released her wrists. She turned around, her face inches from his. It was her. It was really her.
“Dear spirits, thank you,” he whispered before he kissed her.
His fury stilled like a lake becalmed on a moonlit summer night. With aching bliss, he held her to him.
His fingers gently touched her face, touching his dream come to life. Her fingers trailed along his cheek as she gazed at him, needing words no more than he. For a moment, the world stopped.
“Kahlan,” he said at last, “I know you’re angry with me, but…”
“Well, if I hadn’t broken my sword, and had to pick up a knife, you wouldn’t have had such an easy time. But I’m not angry.”
“That’s not what I meant. I can explain—”
“I know what you meant, Richard. I’m not angry. I trust you. You have some explaining to do, but I’m not angry. The only thing you could do to make me angry would be if you ever get more than ten feet from me for the rest of your life.”
Richard smiled. “You aren’t going to ever be angry with me, then.” His smile withered as his head thumped back to the ground. “Oh, yes you are. You don’t know the trouble I’ve caused. Dear spirits, I’ve…”
She kissed him again—tender, soft, warm. He ran his hand down the back of her long, thick hair.
He held her away by her shoulders. “Kahlan, we have to get out of here. Right now. We’re in a lot of trouble. I’m in a lot of trouble.”
Kahlan rolled off him and sat up. “I know. The Order is coming. We need to hurry.”
“Where’s Zedd, and Gratch? Let’s get them and be gone.”
Her head tilted toward him. “Zedd and Gratch? They aren’t with you?”
“Me? No. I thought they were with you. I sent Gratch with a letter. Dear spirits, don’t tell me you didn’t get the letter. No wonder you aren’t angry with me. I sent—”
“I got the letter. Zedd used a spell to make himself light enough for Gratch to carry him. Gratch took Zedd back to Aydindril weeks ago.”
Richard felt a hot wave of nausea. He remembered the dead mriswith all over the rampart at the Keep.
“I never saw them,” he said in a whisper.
“Maybe you left before they arrived. It must have taken you weeks to get here.”
“I only left Aydindril yesterday.”
“What?” she whispered, wide-eyed. “How could…”
“The sliph brought me. She got me here in less than a day. At least, I think it was less than a day. It may have been two. I had no way of telling, but the moon looked the same,…”
Richard realized he was rambling, and made himself stop.
Kahlan’s face was becoming watery in his vision. His voice sounded hollow to him, as if it were someone else speaking. “I found a place on the Keep where there had been a fight. There were dead mriswith all over. I remember thinking it looked like Gratch had killed them. It was at the edge of a high wall.
“There was blood at a notch in the wall, and all down the side of the Keep. I ran my finger through the blood. Mriswith blood stinks. Some of the blood wasn’t from a mriswith.”
Kahlan took him in her comforting arms.
“Zedd, and Gratch,” he whispered. “That must have been them.”
Her arms tightened. “I’m sorry, Richard.”
He lifted her arms away and stood, giving her a hand up. “We have to get out of here. I’ve done something terrible, and Aydindril is in trouble. I’ve got to get back there.”
Richard’s gaze caught on the Rada’Han. “What’s this doing around your neck?”
“I was captured by Tobias Brogan. It’s a long story.”
Even before she had finished speaking, he curled his fingers around the collar. Without cognitive reasoning, but through the need and fury, he felt the power swell from the calm center and surge through his arm.
The collar shattered in his hand like sunbaked dirt.
Kahlan’s fingers groped at her neck. She let out a sigh of relief verging on a wail.
“It’s back,” she whispered as she leaned against him, putting a hand to her breastbone. “I can feel my Confessor’s power. I can touch it again.”
He squeezed her with one arm. “We’d better get out of here.”
“I’ve just gone and freed Ahern. That’s where I broke my sword—on one of the Blood. He took a bad fall,” she explained to his frown. “I told Ahern to head north with the Sisters.”
“Sisters? What Sisters?”
“I found Sister Verna. She’s gathering the Sisters of the Light, the young men, novices, and guards, and escaping with them. I’m on my way to meet her. I left Adie with them. Hurry, and we may be able to catch them before they leave. They’re not far.”
Kevin’s mouth dropped when he stepped out from behind the wall to challenge the two of them. “Richard!” he whispered. “Is it really you?”
Richard smiled. “Sorry, I don’t have any chocolates, Kevin.”
Kevin pumped Richard’s hand. “I’m loyal, Richard. Nearly all the guards are loyal.”
Richard frowned in the dark. “I’m… honored, Kevin.”
He turned and called out in a loud whisper. “It’s Richard!”
A crowd gathered around after he and Kahlan had slipped through the gate and behind the wall. In the flickering light of distant fires down at the docks, Richard saw Verna and threw his arms around her.
“Verna, I’m so glad to see you!” He held her out at arm’s length. “But
I have to tell you, you need a bath.”
Verna laughed. It was a rare, good sound to hear. Warren squeezed past her and with a gleeful laugh embraced Richard.
Richard held Verna’s hand out and pressed the Prelate’s ring into it, closing her fingers around it. “I heard about Ann dying. I’m so sorry. This is her ring. I think you would know better than I what to do with it.”