XV. NIGHT

The first raindrops began to fall as they entered the village, and by the time they were tucked away at a corner table inside the Brown Bottle, a storm was howling madly outside. Kahlan ripped off another hunk of warm, fresh bread and listened to the pitter patter of raindrops against the thick glass windows. The others had agreed easily enough to Richard's plan as soon as the rain began in earnest, and she had to admit it was nice for a change not to have to race to find firewood and complete the evening meal prep before the last of the light faded.

She leaned back in her chair, glad to be warm and dry. Kinsley seemed to be a pleasant place. The inn was full of laughter and occasional, rousing bursts of song, and the cheery atmosphere seeped into her bit by bit. She was about to begin tapping her foot to a song about a maid named Molly and her wooden leg, when Richard leaned forward, his voice close and solemn in the candlelight.

"Those banelings that attacked us were a family."

The sudden reminder turned her meal tasteless, and Kahlan shivered despite the warmth of the room.

"I think they were from this village," he added after finishing a mouthful of roasted lamb. Cara sat up straighter, eyeing the cheerful, drunken customers as if he'd implied the whole inn was full of banelings.

Zedd frowned and tugged on his chin. "Are you certain?"

"I mean to find out," said Richard, and he leaned over in his chair, stopping a barmaid as she passed by with a tray. The young woman cast a doubtful look at Cara in her red leather, but then she settled on Richard, giving him a warm, fluttering, too intimate smile that made Kahlan's heart clench despite her best efforts.

"What can I do for you, darling?" cooed the barmaid, resting a hand on his arm and bending down until she nearly escaped her dress. Richard seemed not to notice to her predicament; Kahlan wondered if his obliviousness was feigned or genuine.

"My grandfather here," he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid he's very superstitious. He believes he'll have nine years bad luck should he stay in a village on a stormy night, if that village has suffered any recent deaths." The barmaid's eyes widened and she looked up at Zedd, who quickly turned sheepish and apologetic, shrugging his bony shoulders and nodding his head. Cara rolled her eyes.

Richard leaned closer to the barmaid and said, "You'd put his mind at ease if you could reassure him Kinsley hasn't suffered any tragedy these past few days."

"Tragedy?" echoed the barmaid, fluttering her eyelashes far more than necessary. Kahlan scowled and stabbed a potato with her knife.

"Yes," said Richard. "Any grave misfortune befallen a family lately?"

The barmaid pursed her lips together, tugging on a curl that had escaped the messy pile she wore her hair in. "No, no, nothing like that. Actually, I have good news for your grandfather!" She beamed at Richard, bouncing a little like an eager puppy, and sending her breasts jouncing right in his face. Kahlan wondered why she didn't just tell Zedd himself. He was seated one chair over, slurping loudly at his tea.

But the barmaid smiled at Richard some more and patted his arm. "Kinsley had its very own miracle from the Creator!" she said proudly. "A boat capsized just yesterday out on the river west of town, and the whole of the Hollings family was aboard. Couldn't anyone get in to find them in time, not with the current so swift as it was. We thought for sure they'd all drowned!"

She paused and lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper, clearly thrilled to have herself an audience. "But just when the folks down by the river had given up hope, the Hollings came back up to the surface one by one! Even old man Hollings made it out, and everyone knows he can't swim. They were wet and weak and mighty scared, but somehow they all pulled through, thank the Creator!"

"Indeed," muttered Cara, rolling her eyes again.

The barmaid appeared not to hear her. "So tell your grandfather not to worry," she said to Richard. "There's been no tragedy in Kinsley. Quite the opposite." She winked at him, "He can sleep easily tonight.

Richard returned her smile. "Thank you," he said. "You've helped us a great deal."

She started giggling at that, though Kahlan had no idea why, and would have kept going if not for the mug Cara thrust abruptly under her nose. "I need another ale," said the Mord-Sith, her voice a cold, curling thing that sounded like it belonged in a dungeon.

The barmaid blinked down at the mug. "Of course," she stammered, casting a nervous glance at Cara. "Right away." She added the mug to her tray, and then picked up Richard's as well. "I'll get you another too, darling," she said, tossing a bright smile his way. Kahlan frowned as she watched her flounce away through the crowd. She wore her corset laced so tight it looked like Richard could encircle the whole of her waist in his hands.

"Seems you were right, my boy," said Zedd, apparently not even the slightest bit annoyed by the barmaid's antics. "That must have been the Hollings family we met on the road today."

Richard nodded and lowered his voice so much Kahlan had to strain to hear it over all the noise. "None of them seemed used to killing. I thought we might be their first attempt by the way they attacked us. They couldn't bear to kill their own neighbors, so they went for the first group of outsiders they saw." He tugged a hand back through his hair, his brows gathering together in a frown. "What I don't understand is why they all took the deal. A whole family? They would've been reunited in the Underworld. They should have found peace."

"I think that was the problem," said Kahlan quietly. She traced a fingertip round and round the rim of her mug, staring into its depths as she told the others the words of the weeping baneling. Even the memory was enough to send shivers racing down her spine. "Could something like that really be happening, Zedd?" she asked. "The Creator forsaking the souls in the afterlife? I was taught that those who lived as she intended would find eternal peace in her light. That they would be drawn close to the souls of their loved ones." She still remembered her own mother promising her that when she was all of five and her mother lay weak and haggard on her death bed, her confessed father wailing inconsolably in the background.

"As a young wizard, I was taught the same." Zedd popped a ripe tomato into his mouth and chewed a moment. "The afterlife is the next step in the journey; only souls that are weighed down by enormous pain in this life resist moving on. Even with the Keeper offering deals to the greedy, an entire family returning as banelings suggests something is very wrong in the Underworld."

Richard leaned forward on his elbows and said, "When the Veil tore, could it have done something to the Underworld itself? Upset the balance there?"

Zedd gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "As far as I know, nothing like this has ever happened before, but I fear you may be right. The Keeper is gaining power in our world. In the Underworld, he can move much more freely. It seems likely he has already conquered the world of the dead completely and is robbing the spirits of their rest."

Kahlan shuddered and thought of Dennee and her mother. Of the little nephew she'd held for what felt like no more than a fleeting moment. They all had loved ones there. She had prayed that they found peace.

"But the Stone of Tears will fix this," said Cara simply. She spoke as if it sat waiting for them around the next bend in the road.

"Yeah," muttered Richard. Kahlan didn't have to look up to know the magic of the sword shone dark and painful in his eyes. "I have to find it first." He stood up abruptly, his plate clattering against Zedd's mug. The sound unsettled her. "I'm going to see to the rooms," he said in a sharp, clipped voice. "The sooner we get to bed, the sooner we can get back to searching tomorrow."

Zedd shot her a troubled look as Richard strode away to talk to the squat, smiling innkeeper. Kahlan sat and picked at her plate, pushing the lamb and vegetables around with a hunk of bread. She forgot to feel any triumph at the look on the barmaid's face when she pranced back with Richard's drink and saw he wasn't there.

The door banged shut behind them and Kahlan flinched. "There's one bed," Cara stated.

"I can see that," she said, staring at the mattress. It was quite large. Nothing compared to her bed in Aydindril, but they would have more than enough room to themselves. Still, it brought back her earlier thoughts, and she stood still, staring at the bed, trying to imagine what it would be like to share it with Richard.

Cara seemed to mistake her silence for hesitation because she cleared her throat and said, "Richard put me in here to guard you and his child. I'll stand by the door tonight."

She sighed and turned around. "Don't be silly, Cara. The door locks. We should both get some sleep. Besides, it's a big bed."

The Mord-Sith tilted her head, considering this. "Then I'll take the side closest to the door," she said.

"That's fine." Kahlan walked around to the far side of the bed and dropped her pack on the floor. "When we were little, Dennee and I would share a bed, and I always took-" She trailed off as she realized what she was saying. She couldn't bear to think about Dennee. Not tonight. "I'm used to this side," she mumbled.

Cara said nothing and stayed by the door, her hair in her face as she studied a spot on the floor like it held instructions on better protecting Richard. "I'm going downstairs for another ale," she announced to the dingy floor. "It's hardly dark yet."

Kahlan nodded at the key sitting on the washstand. "Take the key then. I'll lock the door if I go to bed."

Cara snatched it up in a hurry, only to hesitate in the doorway with a funny look on her face. But before Kahlan could say anything more, she was gone, and all that was left was an empty room.

As she'd expected, the quiet was unusual after so long in the company of others. Rather than consider how it made her feel, Kahlan set to work filling the washbasin. After she had scrubbed away the dirt from the journey, she took advantage of the chance to wash her hair properly. She took her time, working her fingers against her scalp, building the soap up into a rich lather. When she was through, her hair hung heavy and wet all down her back.

Kahlan settled in front of the grate, letting the fire begin to dry her hair as she picked the tangles from it with a comb. Her traveling dress lay folded on a chair, and she had on the black shift she'd rescued from the bottom of her pack after discovering she could no longer wear her corset comfortably. The shift was snug and a little threadbare in places, but the fabric stretched enough to fit her middle. Laying her head on her knees, Kahlan sat and let the heat from the fire roast her backside, as her front chilled facing the open room.

Below, she could still hear laughter in the tavern, and outside, the moaning wind and the harsh thick-thack of tree branches hitting the roof. With the tangles all gone from her hair, she had no more little tasks to distract her mind, and worries began creeping in again. Before she knew what she was doing, Kahlan was on her feet and headed for the door. She stopped only long enough to snatch the blanket from the foot of the bed and draw it like a robe around her.

Out in the dark, narrow hall, the laughter and music below seemed to swell up around her. She crept to the room next to hers and rapped on the door, holding her breath until it creaked open a crack. Zedd's eye peered out at her, and he opened it wider.

"Dear one, is everything all right?"

"I…" She fidgeted with the ends of her blanket. "Is Richard here?" What a foolish question. Of course he was there. There wasn't anywhere else he could be. Unless he too was down below with the laughter and the noise and the bouncing, giggling barmaid. Zedd was mercifully silent as her thoughts ran rampant, merely raising an eyebrow before stepping back and calling for his grandson.

A moment later, Richard came to the doorway, looking tired and worried. "Kahlan?" he asked. He'd taken his vest off, and his shirt hung open, revealing the start of the mark on his chest. She twisted the end of her blanket into a rope.

"I wanted to talk to you," she stammered. Her mind was far too troubled for sleep, and she missed the way he used to comfort her. She missed him. Kahlan swallowed the lump of fear in her throat, adding, "Alone."

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "What is it?" he asked as he stepped out into the hall.

A man squeezed past them on his way to his room, and she could feel his eyes lingering on her bare skin. The way he leered at her reminded her that she was barely dressed. He probably thought her someone's whore. Richard glowered at the man, his hand going to the hilt of his sword so automatically she doubted he even knew he was doing it. "Come on," he said, and he ushered her back through the open door into her room. He yanked it shut behind them, sealing them off from the world.

She felt suddenly more alone with him than she had in the forest, though the inn was brimming with people below, and in the forest there had only been trees. The four walls closed around them, whittling the world down to her and him and a neatly made bed. Kahlan could feel her heart begin to race. Other than one rickety chair piled high with her things, there was only the bed to sit on, and so she did. Richard stood awkwardly before her, but when she tilted her head towards the mattress, he perched on the opposite end.

He didn't turn to face her, but sat staring straight ahead, his body rigid. Still, his voice when he asked "What's wrong?" was kind and gentle, closer to the man she'd lost.

She picked at the woven threads in the blanket wrapped around her. It was almost easier not to ask, but she thought of her sister and the words tumbled from her lips, "Do you think it could be true? What Zedd said about the Underworld?"

A shadow passed across his face, and at first he didn't answer. When he did, it was with a reluctant nod. "We can't know for sure without going there ourselves, but something isn't right."

"So that means all the dead are suffering? My sister? Your family?"

"I don't know, Kahlan. Spirits, I hope not, but I just don't know." His voice cracked as he spoke, and it struck her that she'd never heard him sound so lost before.

She scooted closer, forgetting her own worries in the face of his. "You're going to find the Stone of Tears," she promised.

Richard gave her a sad, empty smile and pulled out the compass, flicking it open in the palm of his hand. It hummed and clicked, casting a bright blue glow over the dimly lit room. "Now it's telling us to head north again," he said in a bitter voice, scowling down at the runes only he could read. They had walked south much of the previous week.

"It must know what it's doing," she tried to reassure him. "It's meant to guide the Seeker's way."

He snapped the compass shut, his fingers clenching around it. "What if the compass isn't working for me? What if I fail to find the Stone of Tears?"

Kahlan frowned at his words. It was the most she'd heard him give credence to Shota's prediction about the stone. "It's working," she insisted.

"How?" he demanded, his voice suddenly loud and desperate. "The shortest distance between any two points is a straight line! Even allowing for the lay of the land, we shouldn't be meandering this much. We're going in circles, Kahlan," he snapped.

She didn't know what to say. She had come to trust in Richard more than magic, more even than prophecy, but in this she did not want to believe him. "Maybe it's working in a way we don't understand," she said. "Maybe we have to learn something or find someone first before we can get the Stone of Tears."

"Maybe." He sounded utterly unconvinced.

She kicked her boots off and pulled her legs up onto the bed, shifting so she sat cross-legged facing him. "You're the Seeker. If you think it would be better to not use the compass, we will follow you."

Richard pressed his thumb against the little silver orb, staring at it in silence a long time. "No," he said at last. "It's our best option. Our only option." Heaving a sigh, he put the compass away and looked over at her. She could see the fire from the grate reflecting gold in his brown eyes, right alongside all the doubt. "We keep going."

"Okay then." She smiled at him, wishing she knew how to give him back his faith in himself. "You will find the Stone of Tears, Richard," she said again. "I believe in you."

"I know you do." His eyes darkened, taking on the distant, pained look that belonged to the sword. "And every day I ask myself why."

Kahlan looked down at his hand clenched around the Sword of Truth, Zedd's warning ringing in her mind. Letting go of her blanket, she rested a hand on his arm, feeling how tense his muscles were beneath his skin. "Because I know how good you are," she said quietly.

Richard stared at her as if through a haze, saying nothing, a strange look crossing his face. She followed his gaze down to find the blanket she'd been wearing now pooled forgotten on the bed, leaving her in nothing more than her threadbare shift. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so undressed, and she looked far more with child without her dress to help hide the ways she'd changed. By the firestorm dancing in his eyes, Kahlan knew he was doing just as Zedd said, using the magic of the sword against himself.

It made her want to weep.

Instead, wordlessly, she reached out and began to pry his fingers from the hilt. He flinched when she touched him there, but then surrendered to her will. She watched the fury bleed from his eyes and turn to fear as she broke his grip on the sword, and settled his large hand over the swell in her belly.

His fingers trembled against her shift, each breath shuddering past his lips. Outside, sleet slammed like pebbles against the windowpane. "Kahlan…" He sounded for all the world like a scared little boy.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm okay." She closed her hand over his, holding it there so he couldn't pull away. "This is our daughter. You are her father, and I love you."

He shook his head, "You shouldn't."

"Stop it," she hissed, fighting to keep her eyes from filling with tears. "Stop talking and listen to me. I miss you! Do you have any idea how much I miss you? Before I met you, my only friends were other Confessors. And now they're all dead. I know there's Zedd and Cara, but it's not the same. You're my only real friend, Richard." She took a deep breath, but it wasn't enough to make her voice stop shaking. "So if you want to hurt me like you think you have, then keep letting what happened while you were confessed take away my dearest friend."

He looked up, and she knew he was forcing himself to meet her eyes. "But everything's different now," he whispered.

She gripped his hand tighter. "It doesn't have to be." Even she could hear the plea in her voice.

Richard sighed, surrendering, "I'll do anything you want. Whatever you want. You must know that."

"I want you to forgive yourself."

That froze him. Kahlan watched as his jaw worked, but no words came out. She wanted to cry or scream or beg until he said he would, but instead she just sat there, holding his hand to her belly and waiting. It felt a lot like drowning.

"Kahlan," he managed at last, choking up on her name. "I can't."

Kahlan felt her heart sink. She thought she'd been doing all she could to help him with his guilt, but she would have to try harder. She closed her eyes to keep from crying as she let the memory of that one, horrible day come slipping as vivid as it had ever been, back to the forefront of her mind. If it offered even the slimmest chance of helping him, she would return to what she had struggled ceaselessly to forget. She was not going to lose him to the sword; it was simply not an option.

Letting go of his hand, she took hold of his face in desperation, tilting it up until he looked at her. "You did not rape me, Richard," she said, and his eyes filled with tears. Her words burned in the silence.

When he spoke, his voice was hollow and shaky. He wouldn't look at her. "I did. I held you down. I made you—" He broke off, the tears in his eyes beginning to run down his face. He made no move to wipe them away. "You were crying. You begged me not to, but I didn't…I didn't care."

"You were confessed," she said for what felt like the thousandth time.

Richard shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"It does! It makes all the difference," she said, the words spilling from her lips hot and angry. "I was the one who agreed to Annabelle's plan, not you. And you never would have agreed in my place to what I agreed for you."

He twisted to face her, "You think I don't know what it means to you to be the last of your kind?" His voice was rough and raw, his eyes like twin bruises boring through her. "You think Zedd didn't know exactly what it would do to you to remind you of that? He made you agree."

Kahlan shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. "Don't make excuses for me," she whispered. "I listened to him, yes, but I'm no child. I am grown. The choices I make are my own. If that is not true, then I have no right to call myself the Mother Confessor."

His hands trembled like he wanted to hold her, but he did not move. "You're still the one who was raped." He spoke so softly she could barely hear him, but his words filled her all the same.

"Yes," she agreed. "I was. But so were you." He started to protest, but Kahlan kept talking, tears streaming in silent rivers down her face. "I was foolish, Richard. But you, you were innocent. You were no more than Annabelle's puppet. What happened to me, happened to you just as much. It was against both our wills, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he whispered. But fresh tears pooled in his eyes, and he kept staring at the rain running down the windowpane.

Kahlan wished desperately that she could be a normal woman, just for the night. That she could wrap herself around him, and let him burry his pain and his grief in her body. If he could feel how she loved him as much as she always had, maybe he would understand. She shifted over without thought, moving until she sat straddling his lap. His whole body tensed, but he lifted a hand to steady her, resting it lightly against her hip. "It wasn't you," she murmured, brushing the hair back from his face. "I know you would never hurt me."

She scooted further forward until her belly pressed against his chest, and they were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. She wasn't used to being here in his lap; it felt unnerving and rather like she was floating. The few times they had kissed, he'd always been the one to take the lead. She felt safer that way, because she was never exactly sure how it all worked herself, and after going to Hartland and seeing how pretty Anna was, and how little she tended to wear, well…she'd always assumed Richard knew what to do. But now he was gazing up at her like she was the Creator herself, and she knew he would not kiss her first.

And so she cradled his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his. It wasn't like that night in the forest, when she'd come alive with desire in one frantic, breathless instant, only to give way to cold fear and panic the next. It was slower and more hesitant, and at first he resisted. But when she kissed him a second time, Richard wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer as he yielded to her kiss. She had never felt so warm before, so safe. His skin was still wet with tears, but he wasn't weeping anymore. Kahlan tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him longer and deeper, tracing his lower lip with her tongue until he opened up and let her explore his mouth.

Her power was there, buzzing and building inside her, and she followed it as they kissed, staying aware of it in the back of her mind. She could not confess him. She could not hurt him now.

When she began to get dizzy with the effort of holding back her magic, she broke away with a gasp and laid her head against his shoulder, sucking idly at the skin on his neck.

Richard half moaned, half laughed this glorious, beautiful sound and lay back on the bed, cradling her in his arms. He seemed to sense intuitively that she needed to stop though he said nothing of it. Just hugged her close and made another sound like the first, half a groan and half a laugh. Some low, manly sound that she would never be able to imitate though it made her grin like a foolish girl with a first crush. "Spirits, do you know you smell like a garden?" he said, burying his face in her damp hair and breathing in.

She smiled, shifting so they lay side by side on top of the blankets, facing each other. The tears had dried on his face, and his eyes were brighter than they'd been in a long time. "Richard," she said. "Are you okay now?"

"I'm better," he said, and she knew it was no lie. She could still see dark things lurking behind his eyes, but they'd beaten them back for now. Slowly, tenderly he reached out and touched her cheek. "I'd be lost without you," he murmured.

"You'll always have me," she promised. Richard grinned at that and kissed her again, soft and sweet and all of his own volition. When they pulled apart, their faces were so close their noses touched. They wove their fingers together and lay like that a long time, bouncing their knuckles lightly against the bed.

"Where's Cara?" he asked abruptly, as if he'd just remembered that this was her room too.

"Downstairs," said Kahlan. "She said it was too early for sleep."

Richard nodded, his hair rustling against the pillow. "I hope she's staying out of trouble."

"You're the one who'd be in trouble down there," said Kahlan before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she squirmed back from him a little.

He propped himself up on an elbow, looking caught between shock and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

She stared up at the ceiling, exhaling loudly. "The barmaid's after you," she muttered. Richard just chuckled and said nothing, and after a moment, she found that infuriating. She looked back at him and said, "Did you think she was pretty?"

"Sure," he said before catching sight of her face. He frowned and sat up all the way. She followed, mimicking his position. "Kahlan, I'm not interested in the barmaid."

"I know that, but…" She fussed with the edge of the blanket, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut. She didn't doubt his love for her, and the last thing she wanted was to give him something else to feel horrible about, just when she'd gotten him to smile again. But jealousy she didn't know she had in her flared up when other women looked at Richard.

His voice grew gentle, and he picked up her hand as he spoke, "You're the love of my life. You're carrying my child. Do you honestly think I'm interested in other women?"

"No. It's just she was pretty and so…" Kahlan thought of how tightly the barmaid had laced her bodice and of her own, abandoned corset. "Never mind. I'm sorry." She folded her arms over her chest, staring down at her bulge of a stomach and wishing her cheeks weren't bright red.

Richard laughed and pulled her towards him, and suddenly his voice was low and wonderful against her ear, sending shivers through her whole body. "You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?" He slid his hands up into her hair, tugging on it just a little so she met his eyes. "One of these days, I'm going to have to get you a mirror."

She huffed. "I've looked in a mirror before, Richard."

"And you still don't understand? It's hopeless then," he said, shaking his head and grinning at her, mischief shining in his eyes. She wanted something clever to say to that, but nothing came, so she kissed him instead. It seemed to silence his tongue just as well.

When he left a short while later, they were both still smiling, and Kahlan felt a sense of hope she wouldn't have believed possible but a few hours earlier. Locking the door, she climbed into bed still giddy from his kisses, but as the darkness took over, she sobered some. She lay on her side, too full of thoughts to sleep, tracing idle patterns across her belly with a fingertip.

She was still awake when she heard a key turn in the lock, and Cara entered the room with a familiar creaking of leather. The Mord-Sith moved with care, apparently assuming Kahlan's turned back and even breathing meant she was asleep. Feeling suddenly tense, Kahlan did nothing to suggest otherwise. She listened to the door latch. Two loud clunks followed that could only be Cara's boots coming off.

The mattress groaned with added weight, but Cara didn't settle beside her. Instead, she sat there on the edge of the bed for so long that Kahlan almost turned over and asked what was wrong.

Just when she'd about convinced herself that Cara was standing watch despite their earlier conversation, the Mord-Sith drew in a loud, ragged breath. "I'm sorry for what I did on Valeria," she said quietly. Kahlan almost flinched. She had never imagined Cara would apologize for Dennee's death. Not when she'd been following the orders of Lord Rahl – doing the job of a Mord-Sith. Memories of her sister flooded her, and she had to fight to hold still as hot tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

When Cara finally lay down next to her, her tears were still falling. But this time, the usual crush of resentment towards the other woman didn't come. Kahlan let out a breath it felt like she'd been holding since learning Dennee was dead, and let the darkness claim her in sleep.