Severed Souls (Sword of Truth 14)

Richard wasn’t sure what he meant. “Evil?”

“You,” the man said, tipping his staff toward Richard. “You have it in you.” He tipped his staff toward Kahlan. “She does as well.”

Richard nodded. “We’re sick. That is why we need to get to Saavedra. We need to get there so we can be cured of this sickness. But you needn’t worry, you cannot catch it from us.”

“We know that.”

Richard wondered if that was true, and if so, how the man could know. Of course, he was able to recognize the poison in him and Kahlan, and it certainly was evil. Richard suspected it was an indication of the abilities of their occult powers. Jit had occult abilities, and this poison had come from her, so in a way, it made sense that they would recognize it.

“We mean you no harm,” Richard said. “We only wish to pass peacefully through your land. We will hurry and pass through quickly and be swiftly on our way.”

“You may only pass if the oracle says that you may pass.”

Richard shrugged. “That sounds fair. I would be happy to speak with your oracle.”

The head with horns swiveled as the man apparently looked through the eye holes in the skull at the people to each side of Richard.

“You do not choose who will speak to the oracle,” he said. “The oracle chooses who will speak to her.”

Richard deliberately didn’t react to the man’s hostile tone, but instead tried to appear calm and agreeable. Even so, he was only a twitch away from drawing his sword if matters took a turn for the worse.

“All right. Will you take us to your oracle, then?”

The man appraised them for a moment longer. He thumped his staff, causing the top end to flicker with little flashes.

“We are the people of the straw. Come with us.”

He and the other straw figures turned and started weaving their way among the dark trunks of trees, through the eerie misty haze, toward where Richard had last seen Hunter.

Richard glanced over at Nicci before taking up Kahlan’s hand and starting out after the people of the straw.

CHAPTER

63

The walk through the strange forest of gnarled trees was longer than Richard had thought it might be. The ground, never getting much light below the thick canopy, was dead-looking, with very little growing in the crusty black ground. There was a bit of weedy growth that spiderwebbed across the ground, but what wasn’t dead was brown and sickly-looking. Richard knew of trees with roots that were poisonous to other plants. It kept other things from growing up and crowding out the trees.

Richard wished that Zedd were with them. Richard’s grandfather would surely have something to say about this place and the people of the straw. Richard wished that he had his grandfather’s advice. And his company. Even though he was gone, Zedd was always in Richard’s thoughts. Even those times when they had been far apart, Richard had always been comforted by the knowledge that he was somewhere. Now he was gone.

The world felt like a dead and lonely place without the old wizard, his grandfather, his friend, his most trusted advisor. It seemed impossible that Zedd wasn’t alive and well, somewhere. For Richard’s entire life Zedd had always been alive, always been there for him.

Richard wanted his grandfather back. He knew that would never happen, but he would one day have his hands around the throat of the person responsible for Zedd’s murder.

After a time they arrived at a more open area with a tight cluster of buildings set in the expanse in the dark forest. All the buildings were square, all of them one-story. They appeared to be made of the same muddy straw as that covering the people. Even though the forest had opened up to the sky, the sky was so dark with threatening, leaden clouds that it didn’t do much to brighten the scene. Everything, from the trees to the straw men to the black straw buildings, was dark and dead and dismal-looking.

Richard realized that the muddy straw covering the men and the buildings had to be something more stable than mud, or the frequent rains of the Dark Lands would dissolve their straw garb as well as their homes. It also had to be something more flexible than mud, or it would dry, crack, and crumble off when the men walked. From what he saw, none of the thick, muddy straw looked anything but entirely intact.

Richard saw faces in windows that were nothing more than square openings in the plastered straw walls. The faces were not wearing skulls, but looked like normal people.

Back behind some of the buildings he saw frames drying skins of what looked like deer. He also saw smokehouses. There were wooden tubs and other community property for the small village.

When people began emerging from buildings, he was surprised to see that they were all dressed more or less normally. Their clothes were rather drab, but none would have looked out of place just about anywhere. He saw men and women of every age, as well as a few children. The children stayed inside or behind the buildings, too shy to come out, but too curious about the strangers to stay hidden. The people all looked cautious but inquisitive. They didn’t show any indications of being hostile. From what Richard had seen of the Dark Lands, caution was more than warranted.

There were fewer than maybe a hundred people in the small village. By the number of buildings, he doubted that there were more than he wasn’t seeing. They all hung back as the straw man who had spoken to Richard went to speak with them.

The people had what looked like a heated discussion, arms waving as they talked to the straw man. It went on for a time before the straw man finally thumped his staff. When he did, the conversation ended. Everyone fell silent. The people all vanished back into the simple buildings.

Richard and all those with him had no idea what was going on, and could only wait until the man returned.

“Come with me,” the straw man wearing a steer skull told them.

They all followed him into the tiny village, trying to look nonthreatening as they walked among the buildings to an open square in the center. The straw men they had seen at first surrounded the square after Richard, Kahlan, Nicci, Irena, Samantha, and the soldiers were all packed together.

As they waited for what would happen next, Richard looked over at Samantha. She had told him before how she longed to travel to different places and see new things. She had said that Stroyza was boring and she hoped to one day leave her little village and go on adventures.

“Enough adventure for you yet?” he asked her with a smile.

She looked up at him with big, dark eyes and nodded, finally returning his smile. It looked a little forced.

“Do you think they will let us pass?” she asked.

“They will,” Nicci said in Richard’s place while she kept her gaze fixed on the straw men, “or they will meet Death’s Mistress.”

Samantha eased back in the shadow of her mother. Richard didn’t feel the need to warn Nicci to take it easy and not do anything rash. She was experienced and he knew that she wouldn’t be the one to start something. But if trouble started, she might be the one to swiftly end it.

He could hear some kind of commotion in one of the more distant buildings. Muffled voices were having a spirited conversation. At last the voices fell silent.

In short order, a crowd emerged. They all walked close together, pushing and pulling one another along. They seemed gripped by a sense of occasion, and by fear.

In their midst was a woman, looking like any of the other villagers. She was dressed the same as the rest of them, except that in her case her blouse was dyed a dark henna. Her straight, dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail tied with a strip

of leather.

She had been blindfolded with a piece of cloth dyed with henna, like her blouse, but much brighter.

It was not hard to tell by the way she walked with her hands held out, feeling blindly for anything in her way, that she was clearly uncomfortable being blindfolded. Richard wondered if she had come willingly. He supposed that as long as she was only blinded with a piece of cloth over her eyes, he wasn’t going to make an issue of it.

Many of the people in the crowd around her pressed hands to her, helping guide her, reassuring her, encouraging her. One of the younger men took one of her hands and put it on his shoulder to help show her the way. She looked bewildered, confused, and at the same time, the way she held her chin up, maybe a bit honored to be the one blindfolded. She had certainly become an instant luminary among the people of straw. She also looked like she didn’t know for sure what to expect.

The crowd around her shuffled to a stop before Richard and those standing close to either side beside him. Whatever the ceremony was they were involved in appeared to be a rare event. Richard imagined that they didn’t often receive strangers out in the wilderness where they lived.

At the same time, if they had an oracle, he was sure that there would occasionally be people come from great distances to see her.

The straw man turned to Richard. “Through this blind woman, the oracle will pick the one who will be allowed to speak to her.”

As the woman groped blindly with a hand, the straw man reached out, took hold of her hand, and placed it on his staff. He molded her fingers around the shaft.

When she nodded that she was ready, he stepped aside.

The blindfolded woman shuffled forward, using the staff to help her feel her way. When she got close to the line of strangers, she stopped, her chin held up, trying to sense who stood before her, but she couldn’t. She began shuffling ahead again, this time walking down the line of strangers. She kept going until she reached the last soldier, and then she returned, holding her chin up as she blindly made progress back, trying to sense something of each one of those waiting before her.