Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

Richard made an effort to slow his words. “Du Chaillu is from the Old World, on the other side of the Valley of the Lost. I helped her when Sister Verna took me across to the Old World.

“These other people, the Majendie, had captured Du Chaillu and were going to sacrifice her. They held her prisoner for months. The men used her for their amusement.

“The Majendie expected me, being gifted, to help them sacrifice her in return for passage through their land. A gifted man helping with the sacrifice was part of their religious beliefs. Instead, I freed Du Chaillu, hoping she would see us through her trackless swamps, since we could no longer cross the Majendie’s land.”

“I provided men to guide Richard and the witch safely through the swamps to the big stone witch house,” Du Chaillu said, as if that would clarify matters.

Kahlan blinked at the explanation. “Witch? Witch house?”

“She means Sister Verna and the Palace of the Prophets,” Richard said. “They led Sister Verna and me there not because I freed Du Chaillu, but because I fulfilled an ancient prophecy.”

Du Chaillu stepped to Richard’s side, as if by right. “According to the old law, Richard came to us and danced with the spirits, proving he is the Caharin, and my husband.”

Richard could almost see Kahlan’s hackles lifting. “What does that mean?”

Richard opened his mouth as he searched for the words. Du Chaillu lifted her chin and spoke instead.

“I am the spirit woman of the Baka Tau Mana. I am also the keeper of our laws. It is proclaimed that the Caharin will announce his arrival by dancing with the spirits, and spilling the blood of thirty Baka Ban Mana, a feat none but the chosen one could accomplish and only then with the aid of the spirits.

“It is said that when this happens, we are no longer a free people, but bound to his wishes. We are his to rule.

“It was for this our blade masters trained their entire lives. They had the honor of teaching the Caharin so that he might fight the Dark Spirit. This proved Richard was the Caharin come to return us to our land, as the old ones promised.”

A light breeze ruffled Du Chaillu’s thick hair. Her dark eyes revealed no emotion, but the slightest break in her voice betrayed it. “He killed the thirty, as set down in the old law. The thirty are now legend to our people.”

“I didn’t have any choice.” Richard could manage little more than a whisper. “They would have killed me, otherwise. I begged them to stop. I begged Du Chaillu to stop them. I didn’t save her life just to end up killing those people. In the end, I defended myself.”

Kahlan gave Du Chaillu a long hard look before turning to Richard. “She was held prisoner, and you saved her life and then returned her to her people.” Richard nodded. “And she then had her people try to kill you? That was her thanks?”

“There was more to it.” Richard felt uncomfortable defending those people’s actions—actions that had resulted in so much bloodshed. He could still remember the sickening stench of it.

Kahlan stole another icy sidelong glance at Du Chaillu. “But you saved her life?”

“Yes.”

“So tell me what more there is to it, then.”

Through the pain of the memories, Richard sought to explain, in words Kahlan would understand. “What they did was a kind of test. A live-or-die test. It forced me to learn to use the magic of the sword in a way I never before realized was possible. In order to survive, I had to draw on the experience of the people who had used the sword before me.”

“What do you mean? How could you draw their experience?”

“The magic of the Sword of Truth retains the essence of the fighting knowledge of all those who’ve used the sword before—both the good and the wicked. I figured out how to tap that skill by letting the spirits of the sword speak to me, in my mind. But in the heat of combat there isn’t always time for me to comprehend it in words.

“So, sometimes the information I need comes to me in images—symbols—that relate it. That was a pivotal connection in understanding why I was named in prophecy fuer grissa ost drauka: the bringer of death.”

Richard touched the amulet on his chest. The ruby represented a drop of blood. The lines around it were a symbolic portrayal of the dance. It held meaning for a war wizard.

“This,” Richard whispered. “The is dance with death. But back then, with Du Chaillu and her thirty, that was when I first understood.

“Prophecy said I would someday come to them. Prophecy and their old laws said they had to teach me this—to dance with the spirits of those who had used the sword before. I doubt they fully understood how their test would do this, just that they were to uphold their duty and if they did and I was the one, I would survive.

“I needed that knowledge to stand against Darken Rahl and send him back to the underworld. Remember how I called him in the gathering with the Mud People, and how he escaped into this world, and then the Sisters took me?”

“Of course,” Kahlan said. “So they forced you into a life-or-death fight against impossible odds in order to make you call upon your inner strength—your gift. And as a result you killed her thirty blade masters?”

“Yes, exactly. They were fulfilling prophecy.” He shared a long look with his only true wife—in his heart, anyway. “You know how terrible prophecy can be.”

Kahlan looked away at last and nodded, caught in her own painful memories. Prophecies had caused them many hardships and subjected them to many trials. His second wife, Nadine, forced upon him by prophecy, had been one of those trials.

Du Chaillu’s chin lifted. “Five of those the Caharin killed were my husbands and the fathers to my children.”

“Her five husbands… Dear spirits.”

Richard shot Du Chaillu a look. “You’re not helping.”

“You mean, by her law, killing her husbands compels you to become her husband?”

“No. It’s not because I killed her husbands, but because defeating the thirty proved I was their Caharin. Du Chaillu is their spirit woman; by their old laws the spirit woman is meant to be the wife of the Caharin. I should have thought of it before.”

“That’s obvious,” Kahlan snapped

“Look, I know how it must sound—I know it doesn’t seem to make any sense—”

“No, it’s all right. I understand.” Her chill expression heated to simmering hurt. “So you did the noble thing, and married her. Of course. Makes perfect sense to me.” She leaned close. “And you just got so busy and all, you forgot to mention it before you married me. Of course. I understand. Who wouldn’t? A man can’t be expected to recall all the wives he leaves lying about.” She folded her arms and turned away. “Richard, how could you—”

“No! It wasn’t like that. I never agreed. Never. There was no ceremony. No one said any words. I never stood and swore an oath. Don’t you understand? We weren’t married. It never happened!

“So much has been going on. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, but it never entered my mind because at the time I dismissed it as an irrational belief of an isolated people. I didn’t put any stock in it. She si

mply thinks that since I killed those men to defend myself, that makes me her husband.”

“It does,” Du Chaillu said.

Kahlan glanced briefly at Du Chaillu as she coolly considered his words. “So then you never, in any sense, really agreed to marry her?”

Richard threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s just the Baka Ban Mana’s beliefs.”

“Baka Tau Mana,” Du Chaillu corrected.

Richard ignored her and leaned close to Kahlan. “I’m sorry, but can we talk about it later? We may have a serious problem.” She lifted an eyebrow. He amended to, “Another serious problem.”

She gave him an indulgent scowl. He turned away, pulling a stalk of grass as he considered the plausibility of worse trouble than Kahlan’s ire.

“You know a lot about about magic. I mean, you grew up in Aydindril with wizards who instructed you, and you’ve studied books at the Wizard’s Keep. You’re the Mother Confessor.”

“I’m not gifted in the conventional sense,” Kahlan said, “not like a wizard or a sorceress—my power is different—but, yes, I know about magic. Being a Confessor, I had to be taught about magic in many of its various forms.”

“Then answer me this. If there’s a requirement for magic, can the requirement be fulfilled by some ambiguous rule without the actual required ritual taking place?”

“Yes, of course. It’s called the reflective effect.”

“Reflective effect. How does that work?”

Kahlan wound a long lock of damp hair on a finger as she turned her mind to the question. “Say you have a room with only one window and therefore the sun never reaches the corner. Can you get the sunlight to shine into a corner it never touches?”

“Since it’s called the reflective effect, I’d guess you’d use a mirror to reflect the sunlight into the corner.”

“Right.” Kahlan let the hair go and held up the finger. “Even though the sunlight could never itself reach the corner, by using a mirror you can get the sunlight to fall where it ordinarily wouldn’t. Magic can sometimes work like that. Magic is much more complex, of course, but that’s the easiest way I can explain it.