Terry Goodkind - Blood of the Fold

“We will continue to have our Mother Confessor,” he said. “We need her wisdom and guidance as much as we always have.”

A few days later, on a fine spring afternoon, as Richard and Kahlan strolled hand in hand through the streets, checking on the cleanup of the destruction from the battle, and the construction that was already beginning to repair what had been destroyed, Richard had a sudden thought. He turned, feeling the cool breeze and warm sun on his face.

“You know, I’ve demanded the surrender of the lands of the Midlands, and I don’t even know how many there are, or all their names.”

“Well, then, I guess I have a lot to teach you,” she said. “You’ll just have to keep me around.”

A smile overcame him. “I need you. Now, and always.” He cupped her cheek. “I can’t believe we’re together, at last.” He glanced up at the three women and two men not three paces behind them. “If only we could be alone.”

Cara arched an eyebrow. “Is that a hint, Lord Rahl?”

“No, it’s an order.”

Cara shrugged. “Sorry, but we can’t follow that order out here. You need protection. Do you know, Mother Confessor, that we sometimes have to tell him which foot to use next? He sometimes needs us for the simplest of instructions.”

Kahlan was overcome with a helpless sigh. Finally, she looked past Cara to the towering men behind. “Ulic, did you see to it that those bolts were installed on the door to our room?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan smiled. “Good.” She turned to Richard. “Shall we go home? I’m getting tired.”

“You have to wed him, first,” Cara announced. “Lord Rahl’s orders. No women allowed into his room, except his wife.”

Richard scowled. “I said except Kahlan. I never said wife. I said except Kahlan.”

Cara glanced to the Agiel hanging on the thin chain around Kahlan’s neck. It was Denna’s Agiel. Richard had given it to Kahlan in a place between worlds where Denna had taken them to be together. It had become a sort of amulet—one the three Mord-Sith had never mentioned, but had noticed from the first instant they saw Kahlan. Richard suspected it meant as much to them as it did to him and Kahlan.

Cara’s cavalier gaze returned to Richard. “You charged us with protecting the Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl. We are merely protecting our sister’s honor.”

Kahlan smiled when she saw that Cara had finally managed to nettle him, something she was rarely able to do. Richard took a calming breath. “And a fine job you’re doing of it, but don’t you worry; by my word, she’ll soon be my wife.”

Kahlan’s fingers idly stroked his back. “We promised the Mud People that we would be wedded in their village, by the Bird Man, in the dress Weselan made for me. That promise to our friends means a great deal to me. Would it be all right with you if we were wedded by the Mud People?”

Before Richard could tell her that it meant as much to him, and was his wish, too, a crowd of children swarmed around them. They pulled at his hands, begging him to come watch, as he had promised.

“What are they talking about?” Kahlan asked as she let out a joyful laugh.

“Ja’La,” Richard said. “Here, let me see your Ja’La ball,” he said to the children.

When they handed it up, he tossed it in one hand, showing it to her. Kahlan took the ball and turned it around, looking at the gold letter R embossed on it.

“What’s this?”

“Well, they played with a ball, called a broc, that was so heavy that children were constantly getting hurt with it. I had the seamstresses make up new balls that are light, so all the children can play, not just the strongest ones. It’s more a game of skill, now, instead of just brute force.”

“What’s the R for?”

“I told them that anyone willing to use this new kind of ball would get an official Ja’La broc from the palace. The R stands for Rahl, to show that it’s an official ball. The game was called Ja’La, but since I changed the rules, they call it Ja’La Rahl, now.”

“Well,” Kahlan said, tossing the ball back to the children, “since Lord Rahl promised, and he always keeps his word . . .”

“Yes!” one boy said. “He promised that if we used his official ball he’d come watch.”

Richard glanced to the garnering clouds. “Well, there’s a storm coming, but I guess we have time for a game first.”

Arm in arm, they followed the gleeful crowd of children up the street.

Richard smiled as he walked. “If only Zedd were with us.”

“Do you think he died up at the Keep?”

Richard glanced up the mountain. “He always said that if you accept the possibility, then you make it real. I’ve decided that until someone proves it otherwise to me, I’m not going to accept his death. I believe in him. I believe he’s alive and out there, somewhere, causing someone trouble.”

The inn looked to be a cozy place, not like some they had been to, with too much drinking and too much noise. Why people wanted to dance whenever it got dark was beyond him. Somehow, the two seemed to go together, like bees and flowers, or flies and dung. Dark and dancing.

People sat at a few tables, having a quiet meal, and one of the tables near the far wall was crowded with a group of older men, smoking pipes, playing a board game, and sipping ale as they engaged in lively conversation. He caught snippets of phrases about the new Lord Rahl.

“You keep quiet,” Ann warned, “and let me do the talking.”

A friendly-looking couple behind a counter smiled at their approach. The woman’s cheeks dimpled.

“Evening, folks.”

“Good evening,” Ann said. “We would like to inquire about a room. The boy at the stable said you had nice rooms.”

“Oh, that we do, ma’am. For you and your . . .”

Ann opened her mouth. Zedd beat her to words. “Brother. Ruben is the name. This is my sister, Elsie. I’m Ruben Rybnik.” Zedd flourished a hand. “I’m a cloud reader of some note. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. Ruben Rybnik, the famous cloud reader.”

The woman’s jaw moved as if in search of where all her words went. “Well, I . . . well . . . yes, I believe I have.”

“There you go,” Zedd said, patting Ann an the back. “Nearly everyone’s heard of me, Elsie.” He leaned on an elbow toward the couple behind the counter. “Elsie thinks I make it up, but then she’s been off on that farm, with those poor unfortunates who hear the voices and talk to the walls.”

In unison, the two heads swiveled toward Ann.

“I worked there,” Ann managed to get out between her clenched teeth. “I worked there, helping the ‘poor unfortunates’ who were our guests.”

“Yes, yes,” Zedd said. “And a fine job you did, Elsie. Why they let you go I’ll never understand.” He turned back to the mute couple. “Since she’s out of work, I thought to take her out in the world with me, let her see what life’s all about, don’t you see.”

“Yes,” the couple said as one.

“And actually,” Zedd said, “we’d prefer two rooms. One for my sister, and one for me.” They blinked at him. “She snores,” he explained. “I need my sleep. He gestured toward the ceiling. “Cloud reading, you know. Demanding work.”

“Well, we have lovely rooms,” the woman said, her cheeks dimpling again. “I’m sure you will get a good rest.”

Zedd shook a cautionary finger. “The best you have, mind you. Elsie can afford it. Her uncle passed on, left her everything he had, and he was a wealthy man.”

The man’s brow drew down. “Wouldn’t he be you uncle, too?”

“My uncle? Well, yes, he would, but he didn’t like me. Little bit of trouble with the old man. He was a morsel eccentric. Wore socks as mittens in the dead of summer. Elsie was his favorite.”