On the low rocks behind Richard, his golden cloak fluttered in the wind, catching her eye. His arm tightened around her. It was not a loving gesture.
Something moved in the water.
A quick twist of light.
Maybe a reflection off the scales of a fish. It was almost there, but wasn’t—like something seen out of the corner of her eye. A direct look betrayed naught.
“What’s the matter?” she asked as Richard pulled her farther back. “It was just a fish or something.”
Richard rose up in one swift smooth movement, lifting her clear of the water. “Or something.”
Water sluiced from her. Naked and exposed to the icy breeze, she shivered as she scanned the clear stream.
“Like what? What is it? What do you see?”
His eyes flicked back and forth, searching the water. “I don’t know.” He set her on the bank. “Maybe it was just a fish.”
Kahlan’s teeth chattered. “The fish in these streams aren’t big enough to nibble a toe. Unless it’s a snapping turtle, let me back in? I’m freezing.”
To his chagrin, Richard admitted he didn’t see anything. He put out a hand for support as she climbed back down into the water. “Maybe it was just the shadow moving across the water when the sun went behind the clouds.”
Kahlan sank in up to her neck, moaning with relief as the sheltering warmth sheathed her. She peered about at the water as her tingling gooseflesh calmed. The water was clear, with no weeds. She could see the gravel bottom. There was no place for a snapping turtle to hide. Though he had said it was nothing, the way he was watching the water belied his words.
“Do you think it was a fish? Or are you just trying to frighten me?” She didn’t know if he had actually seen something that left him worried, or if he was simply being overly protective. “This isn’t the comforting bath I envisioned. Tell me what’s wrong if you really think you saw something.”
A new thought jolted her. “It wasn’t a snake, was it?”
He took a purging breath as he wiped back his wet hair. “I don’t see anything. I’m sorry.”
“You sure? Should we go?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I guess I just get jumpy when I’m swimming in strange places with naked women.”
Kahlan poked at his ribs. “And do you often go bathing with naked women, Lord Rahl?”
She didn’t really like his idea of a joke, but was just about to seek the shelter of his arms anyway when he shot to his feet.
Kahlan stood in a rush. “What is it? Is it a snake?”
Richard shoved her back into the pool. She coughed out water as he lunged at their things.
“Stay down!”
He snatched his knife from its sheath and crouched at the ready, peeking over the grass.
“It’s Cara.” He stood straight to get a better view.
Kahlan looked over the grass and saw a dab of red cutting a straight line across the brown and green landscape. The Mord-Sith was coming at a dead run, charging through the grass, splashing through shallow places in the streams.
Richard tossed Kahlan a small blanket as he watched Cara coming. Kahlan could see the Agiel in her fist.
The Agiel a Mord-Sith carried was a weapon of magic, and functioned only for her; it delivered inconceivable pain. If she wished it, its touch could even kill.
Because Mord-Sith carried the same Agiel used to torture them in their training, holding it caused profound pain—part of the paradox of being a giver of pain. The pain never showed on their faces.
Cara stumbled to a panting halt. “Did he come by here?”
Blood matted the left side of her blond hair and ran down the side of her face. Her knuckles were white around her Agiel.
“Who?” Richard asked. “We’ve seen no one.”
Her expression twisted with scarlet rage. “Juni!”
Richard caught her arm. “What’s going on?”
With the back of her other wrist, Cara swiped a bloody strand of hair away from her eyes as she scanned the vast grassland. “I don’t know.” She ground her teeth. “But I want him.”
Cara tore away from Richard’s grasp and bolted, calling back, “Get dressed!”
Richard grabbed Kahlan’s wrist and hauled her out of the water. She pulled on her pants and then scooped up some of her things as she dashed after Cara. Richard, still tugging up his trousers over his wet legs, reached out with a long arm and snagged the waist of her pants, dragging her to a halt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, still trying to pull on his trousers with his other hand. “Stay behind me.”
Kahlan yanked her pants from his fingers. “You don’t have your sword. I’m the Mother Confessor. You can just stay behind me, Lord Rahl.”
There was little danger to a Confessor from a single man. There was no defense against the power of a Confessor. Without his sword, Richard was more vulnerable than she.
Barring a lucky arrow or spear, nothing was going to keep a committed Confessor’s power from taking someone once she was close enough. That commitment bound them in magic that couldn’t be recalled or reversed.
It was as final as death. In a way, it was death.
A person touched by a Confessor’s power was forever lost to himself. He was hers.
Unlike Richard, Kahlan knew how to use her magic. Having been named Mother Confessor was testament to her mastery of it.
Richard growled his displeasure as he snatched up his big belt with its pouches before chasing after her. He caught up and held her shirt out as they ran so she could stuff her arm in the sleeve. He was bare-chested. He hooked his belt. The only other thing he had was his knife.
They splashed through a shallow network of streams and raced through the grass, chasing the flashes of red leather. Kahlan stumbled going through a stream, but kept her feet. Richard’s hand on her back steadied her. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to run breakneck and barefoot across unfamiliar ground, but having seen blood on Cara’s face kept her from slowing.
Cara was more than their protector. She was their friend.
They crossed several ankle-deep rivulets, crashing through the grass between each. Too late to change course, she came upon a pool and jumped, scarcely making the far bank. Richard’s hand once more steadied and reassured her with its touch.
As they plunged through grass and sprinted across open streams, Kahlan saw one of the hunters angling in from the left. It wasn’t Juni.
At the same time as she realized Richard wasn’t behind her, she heard him whistle. She slid to a stop on the slick grass, putting a hand to the ground to keep her balance. Richard, not far back, stood in a stream.
He put two fingers between his teeth and whistled again, longer, louder, a piercing sound, rising in pitch, cutting across the silence of the plains. Kahlan saw Cara and the other hunter turn to the sound, and then hasten toward them.
Gulping air, trying to get her breath, Kahlan trotted back to Richard. He knelt down on one knee in the shallow water, resting a forearm over the other bent knee as he leaned toward the water.
Juni lay facedown in the stream. The water wasn’t even deep enough to cover his head.
Kahlan dropped to her knees beside Richard, pushing her wet hair back out of her eyes and catching her breath as Richard dragged the wiry hunter over onto his back. She hadn’t seen him there in the water. The covering of sticky mud and grass the hunters tied to themselves had done its intended job of hiding him. From her, anyway.
Juni looked small and frail as Richard lifted the man’s shoulders to pull him from the icy water. There was no urgency in Richard’s movements. He gently laid Juni on the grass beside the stream. Kahlan didn’t see any cuts or blood. His limbs seemed to be in place. Though she couldn’t be sure, his neck didn’t look to be broken.
Even in death, Juni had an odd, lingering look of lust in his glassy eyes.
Cara rushed up and lunged at the man, stopping short only when she saw those eyes staring up in deat
h.