Stone of Tears

  Richard flattened out a small patch of grass and they sat down to wait. They each took turns taking little naps while the other watched to the north. With her hand over his, she watched him sleep and scanned the horizon, and thought about all the times they had done this before, one standing watch, the other sleeping. She longed for the day they could just sleep, and not have to watch. Sleep together. It would happen, she decided, soon enough. Richard would figure out how to close the veil and then it would be over. They could be at peace.

  Kahlan slept nuzzled against him with her cloak wrapped tight against the cold. His warmth made her all the more sleepy. She began to wonder if he were right, if the Bantak would come from the north. If they came from the east, there would be a lot of killing. Chandalen would show no mercy. She didn't want the Mud People to be hurt, but she didn't want the Bantak hurt either. They, too, were her people. She drifted into worried sleep, her last thoughts of Richard.

  He brought her awake, pressing his arm around her and his hand over her mouth. The sky was just beginning to lighten to their right, to the east. Thin wisps of dark purple clouds bunched near the horizon, as if trying to mask the sunrise with their dark hue. Richard was watching to the north. She was lower than he, and couldn't see anything, but she knew by the tenseness of his muscles that someone was coming.

  They lay still, close to the ground, waiting. Gentle breezes rustled the dry grass around them. Kahlan quietly, slowly, slid the cloak from her shoulders. She didn't want there to be any mistake about who she was. The Bantak would recognize her long hair, but she wanted them to see her Confessor's dress, too. She didn't want there to be any doubt who she was and that she was here as the Mother Confessor. Richard shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. Shadows slid through the grass around them.

  When there seemed to be men all around, the two of them stood up. Men with spears and bows closest leapt back and screamed yells of surprise. The Bantak were spread out in a long, thin line, advancing toward the Mud People's village. There were excited shouts.

  Men swept in from the line, a few surrounding them, most bunched in front. Kahlan stood tall, her hands at her sides. She wore her Confessor's face, a calm that showed nothing, as her mother had taught her. Richard was tight at her side, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Most of the men, in simple hide clothes trimmed with grass, leveled weapons at the two of them. They were clearly nervous about doing so.

  "You would dare to threaten the Mother Confessor?" She called out. "Lower your weapons. Now."

  Eyes flicked around, looking to see if the two of them were alone. The men seemed to become less sure about pointing spears and arrows at the Mother Confessor; they were doing something unheard of, and they knew it. They looked as if they couldn't decide to keep doing what they were doing, or drop their weapons and fall to their knees. A few of them crouched lower, in half bows.

  Kahlan took an aggressive stride toward them. "Now!"

  The men flinched, cowering back a little. The points of all the weapons moved from her—to Richard. They appeared to hope this would be an acceptable compromise. It was not what she had expected.

  She stepped in front of Richard. All the weapons were once again pointing at her.

  "What do you think you are doing," he whispered to the back of her head.

  "Just stay quiet. Let me try to do this. We don't have a chance if we can't get them to lower their weapons and talk."

  "Why are they doing this? I thought everyone was afraid of the Mother Confessor?"

  "They are afraid, but they are used to seeing a wizard with me. They may be more bold because they don't see one now. Even so, they shouldn't be doing this." She took another step forward. "Who speaks for the Bantak? Who among you takes responsibility for allowing the Bantak to threaten the Mother Confessor?"

  Not being able to point their weapons at Richard with her in the way, the Bantak lost a bit of their confidence and lowered the points a little. Not all the way, but a little.

  At last, an old man approached, pushing through, stopping in front of her. He wore simple hide clothes like the other men, but around his neck hung a gold medallion worked with Bantak symbols. She knew him. He was Ma Ban Grid, the Bantak's spirit guide. His scowl made his heavily wrinkled loose skin seem even more deeply creased than she remembered. She also didn't remember him scowling like this; she remembered only his easy smile.

  "I speak for the Bantak," Ma Ban Grid said. He had only two bottom teeth in front. His jaw wobbled easily with the difficult-to-pronounce Bantak words. He glanced at Richard. "Who is this one?"

  Kahlan returned Ma Ban Grid's scowl. "Now Ma Ban Grid would question the Mother Confessor before she is welcomed before his eyes?"

  The Bantak men shuffled their feet uneasily. Ma Ban Grid did not. His gaze was solid and unwavering. "These are not right times. These are not our lands. We are not here to welcome visitors before the eyes of the Bantak. We have come to kill the Mud People."

  "Why?"

  Ma Ban Grid peered down his nose at her. "They have invited war, as our spirit brethren have warned us they would. They have proven it by killing one of mine. We must kill them before they can kill us all."

  "There will be no war! There will be no killing! I am the Mother Confessor and I will not allow it! The Bantak will suffer by my hand if they do this!"

  The band of men broke into worried whispers and moved back a pace. The spirit guide stood his ground.

  "The spirit brethren have also told me that the Mother Confessor no longer holds command over the people of the Midlands. They say that as proof, she has been stripped of the company of a wizard." He gave her a smug look. "I see no wizard. As always, the spirits speak true to Ma Ban Grid."

  Kahlan stared speechless at the old man.

  Richard leaned toward her. "What are they saying?" Kahlan told him what Ma Ban Grid had said. He stepped up next to her. "I want to speak to them. Translate for me?"

  Kahlan gave a nod. "They wanted to know who you are. I didn't tell them."

  Richard's eyes turned cold with menace. "I will let them know who I am." His voice took on the same cold quality as his eyes. "And they aren't going to like it."

  He turned his hawklike glare on the men, deliberately ignoring Ma Ban Grid, and she saw in those eyes the rage of the sword's magic. He was calling the magic forth even as the sword sat in its scabbard. "You men are following an old fool, an old fool by the name of Ma Ban Grid, who is not wise enough to know true spirits from false spirits." The men gasped at the insult. Richard turned his penetrating gaze to Ma Ban Grid. "Is this not true, old fool?"

  Ma Ban Grid stammered with anger a moment before he could get any words out. "Who are you to dare to insult me like this!"

  Richard glared at him. "Your false spirits told you the Mud People killed one of yours. The false spirits lied to you, and you, in your foolishness, believed them."

  "Lie! We found his head! The mud people killed him! They want war with us! We will kill them all. Every last one! They have killed one of mine!"

  "I am growing tired of talking to one as stupid as you, old man. The Bantak are a witless people if they put one such as you in charge of talking to the spirit brethren."

  "Richard, what are you doing?" she whispered.

  "Translate."

  When she did, Ma Ban Grid's face reddened more with each word. He looked ready to burst into flames.

  Richard leaned closer to him. "The Mud People didn't kill the one that was yours. I did."

  "Richard! I can't tell them that. They will kill us."

  He continued to glare at Ma Ban Grid as he spoke softly to her. "Something is frightening these people into doing this. They are going to kill us and then go and kill a lot of the Mud People unless I can make them even more frightened of us. Translate."

  She let out a noisy breath at him and then told the Bantak what Richard had said. The weapons came back up.

  "You! You killed one of mine!"

  Richard shrugged. "Yes." He pointe
d at his forehead. "I put an arrow right here. One arrow. Right here. Right through his head, as he was about to put his spear in the back of a man. A man who had no hate in his heart for the Bantak. I killed him as I would kill a coyote sneaking up to steal one of my lambs. One who would take a life by such cowardice deserves to die. One who would listen to false spirits, and send one of his own to do such a thing, does not deserve to lead a people."

  "We will kill you!"

  "Really? Maybe you will try, but you cannot kill me." Richard turned his back to the old man and walked about twenty paces away, the men opening up to let him pass. He turned back. "I used one arrow to kill one of yours. Use one arrow to try to kill me, and we will see who the good spirits protect. Pick any man you wish. Have him do to me as I did to yours. Shoot me with an arrow." He pointed angrily at his forehead again. "Right here, where I shot the coward who would kill for false spirits!"

  "Richard! Have you lost your mind? I'm not going to tell them to shoot you."

  "Kahlan, I can do this. I can feel it."

  "You did it once. What if it doesn't work this time? I'm not going to stand here and let you be killed."

  "Kahlan, if we don't stop these people, here, now, both of us are going to be killed, and then the Keeper is going to escape. Tonight is the gathering; that is what's important. I'm using the Wizard's First Rule; the first step to believing is wanting to believe something is true, or being afraid it is. Up until now, they have been believing something because they wanted to. I have to make them afraid that what I am going to say is true."

  "What are you going to say?"

  "Hurry up. Translate before I lose their interest and they decide to kill us and then go after the Mud People."

  She turned back to Ma Ban Grid and, reluctantly, translated. The men all started shouting that they wanted to be the one to shoot the arrow. Ma Ban Grid's eyes moved among them as they yelled and waved their arms.

  He smiled. "All you men may shoot this evil one who has killed one of mine. Everyone! Shoot him!"

  The bows came up. Richard glared. "Coward! Do you men see how foolish this old man is? He knows he listens to false spirits! He would have you listen to them also! He knows the good spirits protect me in my challenge. He is afraid to have you see he is a fool. This proves it!"

  Ma Ban Grid's jaw tightened. He held his arm up for his men to halt. At last he turned to a man with a bow and snatched it from his hands. "I will show you the spirits I hear are true! You will die for killing one of mine! For saying our spirit brethren are false spirits!"

  He drew a poison arrow back and in a blink shot it at Richard. A cheer rose from the men. Kahlan's breath caught in her throat. She went cold with fear.

  Richard snatched the arrow out of the air right in front of his face.

  The men gasped and then fell silent as Richard marched back to the spirit guide, the arrow in his hand, and fire in his eyes. He stopped before Ma Ban Grid and snapped the arrow in front of his face to the sound of fearful murmurs.

  His voice was deadly. "The good spirits protect me, old fool. You listen to false spirits."

  "Who are you?" Ma Ban Grid whispered, wide-eyed.

  Richard slowly drew the Sword of Truth. The soft ring of steel filled the quiet dawn. He placed the sword's point at Ma Ban Grid's throat.

  "I am Richard, the Seeker. Mate to the Mother Confessor." Worried whispers drifted through the cold air. "And, I am a wizard. Her wizard."

  Eyes as far as she could see widened. Jaws dropped. Ma Ban Grid's face slackened a little. He glanced to the sword.

  "Wizard? You?"

  "Wizard!" Richard glided his angry eyes across the gathered men. "Wizard. I command the magic. The gift. It would seem, old fool, your false spirits have lied to you. They said the Mother Confessor had no wizard. They sent one of yours to start a war the Mud People do not want. They have used you for their own purposes. Perhaps a wise spirit guide would have known this, perhaps an old fool would not." Grumbling broke out among the men. "If you persist in this, if you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will use my magic to destroy you. I will use terrible magic to burn the Bantak's land to ashes and put a blight upon it for all time. Every last Bantak will die a horrible death; a death by my magic. This is what will happen to you if you choose to go against the Mother Confessor's instructions. If you choose not to listen to her, I will kill every last Bantak. Young, and old." His cold gray eyes returned to Ma Ban Grid. "But I will start with the old."

  "Magic?" Ma ban Grid whispered. "You would kill us with magic?"

  Richard leaned closer. "If you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will kill you all with magic more frightful than anything you can imagine." As the men all listened in rapt attention to her translation, Richard recited a litany of horrors he would bring to them. Most of the things she remembered Zedd telling a mob that had come to kill him when they thought he was a witch. Richard was using the same things now to scare the Bantak. The more he spoke, the wider their eyes became.

  Ma Ban Grid's gaze left the sword and returned to Richard's face. He looked less sure of himself, but wasn't entirely ready to concede. "The spirits told me there was no wizard with the Mother Confessor. Why should I believe you are a wizard?"

  All of the anger left Richard's face. She had never seen him hold the sword without the fury of the sword's magic in his eyes. There did seem to be something in his eyes, but it wasn't hate, or rage; he looked at peace. Somehow, it was more frightening than the anger. It was the peace of a man committed to a course.

  In the dim dawn light, the blade of Richard's sword changed. It began to glow white. White hot with magic. It brightened until no one could miss seeing the bright white luminescence.

  Richard was using the only magic he knew and could depend on. The magic of the sword.

  It was enough. Fear swept the crowd. Men fell to their knees, dropping their weapons, muttering for forgiveness, beseeching the spirits to protect them. Others stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

  "Forgive me, old man," Richard whispered, "but I must kill you to save a great many more lives. Know that I forgive you, and regret what I must do."

  As she translated, Kahlan put a hand on Richard's arm to keep him from doing anything. "Richard, wait. Please, give me a chance?"

  He nodded slightly. "One chance. Fail, and I kill him."

  She knew he was trying to scare the Bantak, to break the spell they seemed to be under, but he was scaring her too. He was beyond the rage of the sword, to something worse. She looked back to the spirit guide.

  "Ma Ban Grid, Richard will kill you. He does not lie about this. I have asked him to wait, so I may grant you my forgiveness, if you will see the truth of what we say. I can ask him not to kill you, and he will do as I ask. But only once. After that, I will have no control over him. If you are insincere in your change of heart, there will be much death and suffering. Richard is a man of his word. He has made a promise to you, and if you try to trick him with your answer, he will keep his promise.

  "I give you this one chance to hear the truth. It is not yet too late. The Mother Confessor does not want any of her people to die. Every life in the Midlands holds dear value in my heart. But sometimes, I must let a few lose their lives, so that many more may live. I will hear your answer."

  The men all stood stooped and still. They looked as if they had gotten themselves into something they no longer wanted. The Bantak were a peaceful people and they seemed to regret their foray, even seemed confused by it. Richard had succeeded in giving them a bigger fright than whatever brought them to this.

  The breeze fluttered the dry grass and in its passing pulled a stray wisp of hair across her face. Kahlan reached up and pulled it back as she waited. With eyes that seemed to have gone empty of passion, Ma Ban Grid searched her face. The spell had been broken.

  His voice came soft and sincere. "I heard the spirits speak. I thought they were speaking the truth. It is as he says. I am an old fool." He looked around at his silent men. "The B
antak have never before sought to bring death to others. We will not start now."

  He bowed his head and pulled his medallion over his wispy gray hair. He brought it up in both hands, offering it to her. "Please, Mother Confessor, give this to the Mud People. Tell them it is given in peace. We will start no war with them." He glanced over. Richard returned the sword to its scabbard. Ma Ban Grid looked back to her. "Thank you for stopping us, for stopping me, from listening to false spirits and doing a terrible thing."

  Kahlan bowed her head to the old man. "I am thankful I was able to serve in time to prevent anyone from being hurt."

  Richard glanced to her. "Ask him how the spirits convinced him to do something against the nature of his people."

  "Ma Ban Grid, how did the spirits put the lust for war in your heart? The lust for killing?"

  He stared off, unsure. "Their whispers came to me in the night. Made me feel the need. I have felt an urge to violence before, but never acted on it. This time, it seemed I could not hold it back. I had never felt this need so strongly before."

  "The veil to the underworld, the spirit world, is torn." Whispers spread back through the men as she told them Richard's words. "False spirits may seek to speak to you again. Be on guard against them. I understand how you were tricked, and will hold no anger against you for it. But I expect you to be more cautious now that you have learned the truth and have been warned."

  "Thank you, wizard," Ma Ban Grid nodded. "I will make it so."

  "Did the spirits voices tell you anything else?"

  The old man frowned in thought. "I don't really remember their voices telling me what must be done. It was more of a feeling that filled me with the need. My son," he looked up, "the one who died... he was with me, and heard them also. I felt that the spirits spoke differently to him, somehow. His eyes were wild with hate. Even more that mine. He went as soon as we were visited by the spirits." His eyes sank to the ground.