Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

She broke off a piece and tasted it, then moaned with delight at how good it tasted.

Then she put the rest of the little trout on a moose maple leaf and offered it to Rachel. Rachel sat staring at the hand. She had said that she didn’t want any of the woman’s fish.

“Thank you, but I have my own things to eat. You should have your fish.”

“Nonsense, there’s more than enough. Please, won’t you eat some with me? Just a little? After all, I used the fire you worked to build, so it’s the least I can do.”

Rachel stared at the delicious-looking fish on the leaf in the palm of the woman’s hand.

“Well, if you don’t mind, then, I’ll have one.”

The woman smiled and the world suddenly seemed a better place. Rachel thought that it must be a smile like a mother would have—filled with simple delight at the wonder of life.

She tried not to devour the fish. That it was steaming hot helped to slow her down. That, and the sharp little bones. It felt so good to eat hot food that she almost cried with joy. When she finished the fish, the woman handed her another. Rachel took it without hesitation. She so needed to eat. She told herself that she needed to be strong so that she could hurry. The tender fish warmed the pang of hunger lodged deep in the pit of her stomach, making the ache melt away. Rachel ate four more before she was full.

“Don’t push your horse so hard tomorrow,” the woman said. “If you do, it will die.”

Rachel blinked. “How do you know that?”

“I introduced myself to your animal when I came across your camp. Your horse is in sorry shape.”

Rachel felt bad for the horse, but she had to hurry. She couldn’t slow for anything. She had to hurry.

“If I go any slower, they’ll get me.”

The woman cocked her head. “Who will get you?”

“The ghostie gobblies.”

“Ah, I see.”

“The ghostie gobblies are after me. Whenever I slow they start to get closer.” Tears stung Rachel’s eyes. “I don’t want the ghostie gobblies to get me.”

The woman was there, then, right next to her, circling an arm around her, sheltering her. It felt so good that Rachel started to cry in the comfort of that protection. She had to hurry. She was so afraid.

“If you kill the horse,” the woman said in a soft, gentle voice, “then the ghostie gobblies will get you, now, won’t they? Take it just a little slower. You have time.”

Rachel snuggled in the nook of the woman’s arm. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You need to let the horse get its strength back. It won’t do you any good to kill the animal. Trust me, you don’t want to be out in the deserted countryside without a horse.”

“Because then the ghostie gobblies will get me?”

The woman nodded. “Because then the ghostie gobblies will get you.”

When a shiver ran up Rachel’s back, the woman squeezed her tight until it went away. Rachel realized that she had the hem of her dress in her mouth, just like she used to do when she was little.

“Hold out your hand,” the woman said in that soothing voice she had. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Hold out your hand.”

When Rachel held out her hand the woman laid something small in it. Rachel held it up closer, trying to see it better. It was short, and straight.

“Put it in your pocket.”

Rachel looked up at the gentle face watching her. “Why?”

“For when you need it.”

“Need it? What will I need it for?”

“You will know when the time comes. You will know when you need it. When you do, remember that it’s there, in your pocket.”

“But what is it?”

The woman smiled that wonderful smile. “It’s what you need, Rachel.”

As baffled as she was, Rachel couldn’t think of how to solve the riddle. She slipped the small thing into her pocket.

“Is it magic?” Rachel asked.

“No,” the woman said. “It’s not magic. But it’s what you will need.”

“Will it save me?”

“I have to go now,” the woman said.

Rachel felt a lump rising in her throat. “Couldn’t you sit by the fire a little while?”

The woman gazed at her with knowing, gentle eyes. “I suppose I could.”

Rachel felt goose bumps tingling up her arms again.

She knew who the woman was.

“You’re my mother, aren’t you?”

The woman smoothed a hand down Rachel’s hair. She had a sad smile. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Rachel knew that her mother was dead, or, at least she had been told that she was.

Maybe this was her mother’s good spirit.

Rachel opened her mouth to speak again, but her mother gently shushed her, then tipped Rachel’s head against her. “You need rest. I’ll watch over you. Sleep. You’re safe with me.”

Rachel was so tired. She listened to the wonderful sound of her mother’s heart beating. She stretched her arms around her mother’s ribs, and nuzzled against her.

Rachel had a thousand questions, but she didn’t think that she would be able to get a single word past the lump in her throat. Besides, she didn’t really want to talk. She just wanted to be held in the shelter of her mother’s arms.

As much as she loved Chase, this was something that felt so special that she knew it was unfair to compare it to anything else. She loved Chase fiercely. This was wonderful in its own way. It was like two halves that made a whole.

Rachel only realized that she’d been asleep because when she opened her eyes it was just first light. Dark purple clouds looked as if they were trying to hide the approaching light in the eastern sky.

She sat up abruptly.

All that was left of the fire was cold ashes.

She was alone.

Before she could think of anything else, before she had time to be sad, she knew that she had to hurry.

With frantic effort she quickly gathered up her few things—the blanket, the flint and steel, the waterskin—stuffing them into the saddlebags. She saw the horse not far away, watching her.

She had to make sure not to run the horse too hard. If she ran the horse and it died, then Rachel would be on foot.

And then the ghostie gobblies would get her.

CHAPTER 25

Kahlan tenderly closed both of her hands around Nicci’s trembling, loose fist. She hoped that through that connection, that simple act, the woman covered in blood, lying in Jagang’s bed, could at least take a small measure of solace. As much as Kahlan ached with empathy, she could offer little help.

It had been a frightening, dreadful night. Jagang often brought women captives to his bed. He frequently hurt them, either simply by not taking into account his own strength, or because he intended them harm when they failed to cooperate.

This was different. With Nicci, he was venting hot jealousy.

He had never hurt any of those other women the way he hurt Nicci. In his own mind, Kahlan knew, he was getting even, settling a score, making Nicci pay the price of being unfaithful to him.

But, in some ways, Jagang was also showing Kahlan what kind of treatment she could look forward to once her memory was finally restored. Kahlan tried to shut the things she’d seen and heard from her mind lest she be sick. She focused instead on the present, and the future.

She let go with one hand and turned to retrieve a waterskin lying on the floor nearby. Nicci lightly caught the remaining hand, apparently fearful of losing the human compassion in that connection.

“Here,” Kahlan said in little more than a whisper as she lifted the waterskin to Nicci’s lips. Splatters of dried blood masked her face and hair.

Other than loosely holding on to Kahlan’s hand, Nicci didn’t respond.

“Drink,” Kahlan urged. “It’s water.”

Nicci didn’t make any effort to drink, so Kahlan

let a little of the water trickle across the woman’s cracked lips and into her mouth. She swallowed, then turned her head away from the waterskin with a cry of pain.