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Richard put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight against him. She didn’t object, but pulled her knees up and put her arms around them as she nuzzled against him. He worried that she could hear his heart pounding. If she did, she didn’t say anything and was soon fast asleep again. He listened to her breathing, to the frogs, and to the rain. She slept peacefully. He closed his fingers around the tooth under his shirt. He watched the heart hounds. They watched back.
She woke sometime near morning when it was still dark. Richard was so tired he had a headache. Kahlan insisted he lie down and sleep while she kept watch. He didn’t want to; he wanted to continue holding her, but was too sleepy to argue.
When she gently shook him awake it was morning. Weak, gray light filtered through the dark green of the swamp and through heavy mist that made the world seem small and close. The water around them looked as if it had been steeped with decayed vegetation, a brew that rippled occasionally with unseen life beneath the surface. Unblinking black eyes pushed up through the duck weed, watching them.
“The heart hounds are gone,” she said. She looked drier than she had last night.
“How long?” he asked, rubbing the cramps out of his arms.
“Twenty, maybe thirty minutes. When it got light they suddenly went off in a rush.”
Kahlan gave him a tin cup of hot tea. Richard gave her a questioning look.
She smiled. “I held it over the candle until it was hot.”
He was surprised at her inventiveness. She gave him a piece of dried fruit and ate some herself. He noticed the war axe leaning against her leg, and thought to himself that she knew how to stand watch.
It was still raining gently. Strange birds called out sharply in rapid, ragged shrieks from across the swamp, while others answered in the distance. Bugs hovered inches above the water, and occasionally there was an unseen splash.
“Any change in Zedd or Chase?” he asked.
She seemed reluctant to answer. “Zedd’s breathing is slower.”
Richard quickly went and checked. Zedd seemed hardly alive. His face had a sunken, ashen look. He put an ear to the old man’s chest and found his heart to be beating normally, but he was breathing slower, and he felt cold and clammy.
“I think we must be safe from the hounds now. We had better get going, and see if we can find them some help,” he said.
Richard knew she was afraid of the snakes—he was, too, and told her so—but she didn’t let it interfere with what they had to do. She put her trust in what he said, that the snakes wouldn’t come near the sword, and crossed the water without hesitation when he told her to go. They had to traverse the water twice, once with Zedd and Chase, and a second time to retrieve the parts for the litters, as they could only be used on dry land.
They hooked up the poles to the horses, but couldn’t use them yet as the tangle of roots on the swamp trail would cause too jolting a ride. They would have to wait until they were on a better road, once they were clear of the swamp.
It was midmorning before they reached the better road. They stopped long enough to lay their two fallen friends in the litters and cover them with blankets and oilcloth. Richard was pleased to discover that the pole arrangement worked well; it didn’t slow them at all, and the mud helped them slide along nicely. He and Kahlan ate lunch on their horses, passing food back and forth as they rode next to each other. They stopped only to check on Zedd and Chase, and continued on through the rain.
Before night came they reached Southaven. The town was little more than a collection of ramshackle buildings and houses fit crookedly in among the oaks and beech, almost as if to turn themselves away from the road, from queries, from righteous eyes. None looked ever to have seen paint. Some had tin patches that drummed in the steady rain. Set in the center of the huddle was a supply store, and next to it a two-story building. A clumsily carved sign proclaimed it to be an inn, but offered no name. Yellow lamplight coming from windows downstairs was the only color standing out from the grayness of the day and the building. Heaps of garbage leaned drunkenly against the side of the building, and the house next door tilted in sympathy with the rubbish pile.
“Stay close to me,” Richard said as they dismounted. “The men here are dangerous.”
Kahlan smiled oddly with one side of her mouth. “I’m used to their kind.”
Richard wondered what that meant, but didn’t ask.
Talking trailed off when they went through the door, and all faces turned. The place was about what Richard expected. Oil lamps lit a room filled with a fog of pungent pipe smoke. Tables, all arranged in a haphazard fashion, were rough, some no more than planks on barrels. There were no chairs, only benches. To the left a door stood closed, probably leading to the kitchen. To the right, in the shadows, leading up to the guest rooms, was a stairway minus a handrail. The floor, with a series of paths through the litter, was mottled with dark stains and spills.
The men were a rough collection of trappers and travelers and trouble. Many had unkempt beards. Most were big. The place smelled of ale and smoke and sweat.
Kahlan stood tall and proud next to him; she was a person not easily intimidated. Richard reasoned that perhaps she should be. She stuck out among the riffraff like a gold ring on a beggar. Her bearing made the room even more of an embarrassment.
When she pushed back the hood of her cloak, grins broke out all around, revealing a collection of crooked and missing teeth. The hungry looks in the men’s eyes didn’t fit the smiles. Richard wished Chase were awake.
With a sinking feeling, he realized there was going to be trouble.
A stout man walked over and halted. He wore a shirt with no sleeves and an apron that looked like it could never have been white. The top of his shiny, shaved head reflected the lamplight, and the curly black hair on his thick arms seemed in competition with his beard. He wiped his hands on a filthy rag before flopping it over a shoulder.
“Something I can do for you?” the man asked in a dry voice. His tongue rolled a toothpick across his mouth as he waited.
With his own tone and eyes Richard let the man know he would brook no trouble. “There a healer in this town?”
The proprietor shifted his glance to Kahlan and then back to Richard. “No.”
Richard noted the way, unlike the other men, the man kept his eyes where they belonged when he looked at Kahlan. It told him something important. “Then we would like a room.” He lowered his voice. “We have two friends outside who are hurt.”
Taking the toothpick out of his mouth, the man folded his arms. “I don’t need any trouble.”
“Nor do I,” Richard said with deliberate menace.
The bald man looked
Richard up and down, his eyes snagging for an instant on the sword. With his arms still folded, he appraised Richard’s eyes. “How many rooms you want? I’m pretty full.”
“One will do fine.”
In the center of the room a big man stood. From a mass of long stringy red hair he looked out with mean eyes that were set too close together. The front of his thick beard was wet with ale. He wore a wolf hide over one shoulder. His hand rested on the handle of a long knife.
“Expensive-looking whore you got there, boy,” the red-haired man said. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if we came up to your room and passed her around some?”
Richard locked his glare on the man. He knew this was a challenge that would only be ended with blood. His eyes didn’t move. His hand did—slowly—toward the sword. His rage pounded, fully awake even before his fingers reached the hilt.
This was the day he was going to have to kill other men.
A lot of other men.
Richard’s grip tightened around the braided wire hilt until his knuckles were white. Kahlan gave a steady pull on the sleeve of his sword arm. She spoke his name in a low tone, raising the inflection at the end, the way his mother did when she was warning him to stay out of something. He stole a glance at her. She gave a luscious smile to the red-haired man.
“You men have it all wrong,” she said in a throaty voice. “You see, this is my day off. I’m the one who hired him for the night.” She smacked Richard on the rear. Hard. It surprised him so much he froze. She licked her top lip as she looked at the red-haired man. “But if he doesn’t give me my money’s worth, well, you will be the first I call to fill the breach.” She smiled lasciviously.
There was a thick moment of silence. Richard resisted mightily his need to pull the sword free. He held his breath as he waited to see which way it was going to go. Kahlan continued to smile at the men in a way that only made his anger deepen.
Life and death measured each other in the red-haired man’s eyes. No one moved. Then a grin split his face and he roared with laughter. Everyone else hooted and hollered and laughed. The man sat down and the men started talking again, ignoring Richard and Kahlan. Richard breathed out in a sigh. The proprietor eased the two of them back a ways. He gave Kahlan a smile of respect.
