Promethean Heat, Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but love them anyway. I know it's slow yet, but we're building to something, so be patient…it's like the big hill at the start of the roller coaster. I hope. A really dark, not very pleasant roller coaster. Okay, I'll admit it—I hate roller coasters...

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After returning to the camp, Richard and Kahlan laid out what they'd seen. They spent the rest of the afternoon going over every aspect of the plan, till Kahlan was worried they were overthinking it. "I think we have it," she finally said, looking pointedly at Richard, and nodding at the setting sun. He'd seemed particularly uneasy about it all, and she didn't want him worrying the others.

He looked at her, frowning slightly, but nodded. "Get some rest, everyone. We'll leave just after midnight." The rest of the group broke up, Devlin heading off to restring his crossbow, leaving Kahlan, Richard and Anson by the fire. Richard still seemed to have pent-up energy, and he finally stood up, grabbed an empty waterskin, and headed off toward the river.

Kahlan watched him go, wondering what it was that had him so edgy. Is he still angry with me over leaving Zedd in the first place? He had to know it was the right decision, especially now that they had so much help. Or was it something else? I wish I could read him as well as he seems to read me.

"It's clear you have feelings for him," Anson said, studying her face.

Kahlan looked over at Anson, startled, having forgotten that he was there. Then she realized what he'd said, and smiled faintly, knowing her feelings showed every time she looked at Richard.

"Is it true, what they say about Confessors?" Anson said tentatively.

Kahlan looked at him, knowing exactly what it was he was asking. She nodded. "If I were to ever act on my feelings, he would be Confessed," she said bluntly, surprised to find herself talking about it with a man she barely knew, but it was almost a relief. And there was one thing about Anson that was even more like Richard than his appearance--he was easy to talk to. "I can't let that happen."

"I can't imagine what that must be like—for both of you," he said, shaking his head. "And to carry that burden along with the struggle against Rahl…"

"Actually, that's the one thing that makes it bearable," Kahlan said, smiling wryly. "We spend so much time running and fighting, we don't really have time to think about much else."

Anson laughed, but he was still looking at her perceptively. "It doesn't always work, though, does it?"

Kahlan looked at him, her smile fading. "No. Not always." She fell silent, thinking of the times she'd nearly lost control—the first time they'd kissed, in the crypt with Kieran and Viviene, when she'd been under the Con Dar… Just once, once in my life, I'd like to be able to let go, she thought, suddenly frustrated.

"Well, we'll just have to find other ways to take your mind off it," Anson said, standing up abruptly.

Kahlan looked up at him, raising her eyebrows.

Anson looked at her, and realized how many ways that could have been interpreted. "I mean, we…we have a fiddler in the camp," he stammered, blushing. "Perhaps some dancing?"

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Richard came back from the river, carrying the newly-filled waterskin, and was surprised to hear music in the camp. Someone was playing a lively tune on a fiddle, and there was laughter. He walked toward the center of the camp, and saw Kahlan and Anson holding hands and spinning wildly in a circle as the music rose to a climax. The fiddler finished with a flourish, and Kahlan spun away from Anson, her hand to her chest, breathing hard and laughing. Anson walked to her, laughing as well, and said something Richard couldn't hear, his hand reaching out to her…

Richard turned back to the forest, feeling unaccountably angry. How could she? When Zedd could be dying, for all we know? He kept replaying the scene in his mind, Anson putting his hand to her cheek, whispering to her… She can't really be interested in him, can she? That thought sparked another flood of anger.

"Richard!" Devlin said, looking up in concern as Richard stalked back toward the edge of the camp. "What is it?"

Richard glared at him, looking for some outlet for his anger, but he restrained himself. Devlin didn't deserve to be the scapegoat for Kahlan's—what? he thought. It was dancing. That's all. Richard stopped, hands clenched, trying to find some way to release his fury.

"What's going on, Richard?" Devlin said, coming closer.

"It's Kahlan," Richard said, and Devlin was shocked at the bitterness in his tone. "She was dancing…with Anson."

"Dancing?" Devlin said, glancing toward the crowd by the fire. "Well, Adar is a good fiddler." Richard looked at him like he was an idiot. "I mean, it isn't often we have women in the camp, and--" Devlin stopped, realizing what he was saying was only making things worse.

"She certainly seemed to be enjoying the attention," Richard said in a growl.

Devlin shook his head, unable to understand what was going on—this wasn't like Richard. "Richard, she loves you." He stepped forward, putting his hand on Richard's shoulder and looking hard into his eyes. "She loves you. A little dancing doesn't mean anything."

Richard shook off Devlin's hand. "But tonight, of all nights--"

"Richard, listen, everyone's nervous. If Anson hadn't thought of having Adar play, I might have. We need everyone at their best so we can get Zedd back. He needs you," Devlin said, hoping that might distract him from his anger. "If you keep thinking about this, you'll just wear yourself out. And if you make a mistake tonight, Zedd doesn't stand a chance, and a lot of my men will get killed. I need you to focus on that, Richard."

Richard took a deep breath, his jaw still clenched, then nodded sharply. "Okay," he said, letting the breath out. "You're right, I'm overreacting. It's just--"

"I know," Devlin said, looking past Richard to see Kahlan looking at them in concern. "You've both been under a lot of pressure. I don't know how you do it. I'd have cracked a long time ago." He smiled reassuringly at Kahlan. Richard noticed the look and turned to see her.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, turning away. He stalked off into the forest, and Devlin sighed, seeing Kahlan's confusion at Richard's behavior.

"Is something wrong?" Anson asked Kahlan, seeing her eyes follow Richard out of the camp.

"I don't…" Kahlan said, and stopped, not wanting to worry Anson further. "I don't think so," she said firmly. She turned and smiled at him. "Thank you for the distraction. It did help."

But there was an air of apprehension about her that made Anson wonder just how much good it had done.

**********

"Awake, are we?" Raythe said, entering the tent where Zedd lay. She removed his gag, and waited for a response.

Barely, Zedd thought, unable to keep his eyes focused. The Mord Sith above him was a maroon blur. Which, he thought vaguely, is probably a good thing. He debated whether to try to answer her. Under the circumstances, perhaps silence is the best option.

Raythe knelt next to him, looking into his eyes. It was clear he wasn't recovered. She doubted if he'd stay conscious if she breathed on him, let alone used the agiel. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well," she said sadly. "I had hoped we could get to know each other better tonight, but…" She stood up again, and regretted her decision to kill the soldier so quickly. She sighed. "That will just have to wait a little longer." She turned to Kharvath, who was hovering behind her. "What can you do?"

"Me?" he said. "I…I'm no healer."

Raythe stared at him. Stupid little man, she thought. "Did I ask if you were a healer?" she said icily. "What can you do?" She punctuated each word with a tap of her agiel on her hand.

He swallowed. "I can try to…speed…his recovery?" Kharvath said uncertainly.

Raythe nodded and patted him on the head. "You do that," she said. "If he isn't ready to train by dawn, I'll need…" she paused to let her words sink in, "…other entertainment."