Anything she now asked of him, whether it be to tell her his name, confess his true love's name, or to murder his beloved mother, would bring him boundless joy because he would finally have a task to carry out for her.
"Let's find out what this is all about," Richard said in a low growl.
In exhaustion, Kahlan stared at the man on his knees. She was so weary she could hardly stand. Sweat trickled down between her breasts. She needed rest, but this problem was more immediate and needed to be attended to first.
On their way to the man waiting on his knees, his eyes turned expectantly up toward Kahlan, Richard halted. There, in the dirt before his boots, was the remains of the statue Sabar had brought to them. It was broken into a hundred pieces, none of them any longer recognizable except that those pieces were still a translucent amber color.
Nicci's letter had said that they didn't need the statue, now that it had given its warning-a warning that Kahlan had somehow broken a protective shield sealing away something profoundly dangerous.
Kahlan didn't know what the seal protected, but she feared that she knew all too well what she had done to break it.
She feared even more that, because of her, the magic of Richard's sword had begun to falter.
As Kahlan stood staring down at the amber fragments ground into the dirt, despair flooded into her.
Richard's arm circled her waist. "Don't let your imagination get carried away. We don't know what this is about, yet. We can't even be certain that it's true-it could even be some kind of mistake."
Kahlan wished that she could believe that.
Richard finally slid his sword back into its scabbard. "Do you want to rest first, sit a bit?"
His concern for her took precedence over everything. From the first day she met him, it always had. Right then, it was his well-being that concerned her.
Using her power sapped a Confessor of strength. It had left Kahlan feeling not only weak, but, this time, nauseated. She had been named to the post of Mother Confessor, in part, because her power was so strong that she was able to recover it in hours; for others it had taken a day or sometimes two. At the thought of all those other Confessors, some of whom she'd dearly loved, being long dead, Kahlan felt the weight of hopelessness pulling her even lower.
To fully recover her strength, she would need a night's rest. At the moment, though, there were more important considerations, not the least of which was Richard.
"No," she said. "I'm all right. I can rest later. Let's ask him what you will."
Richard's gaze moved over the campsite littered with limbs, entrails, bodies. The ground was soaked with blood. The stench of it all, along with the still smoldering body beside the fire, was making Kahlan sicker by the second. She turned away from the man on his knees, toward Richard, into the protection of his arms. She was exhausted.
"And then let's get away from this place," she said. "We need to get away from here. There might be more men coming." Kahlan worried that if he had to draw the sword again, he might not have the help of its magic. "We need to find a more secure camp."
Richard nodded his agreement. He looked over her head as he held her to his chest. Despite everything, or perhaps because of everything, it felt wonderful simply to be held. She could hear Friedrich just rushing back into camp, panting as he ran. He stumbled to a halt as he let out a moan of astonishment mixed with revulsion at what he saw.
"Tom, Friedrich," Richard asked, "do you have any idea if there are any more men coming?"
"I don't think so," Tom said. "I think they were together. I caught them coming up a gully. I was going to try to make it back here to warn you, but four of them came over a rise and jumped me while the rest ran for our camp."
"I didn't see anyone, Lord Rahl," Friedrich said, catching his breath.
"I came running when I heard the yelling."
Richard acknowledged Friedrich's words with a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "Help Tom get the horses hitched. I don't want to spend the night here."
As the two men sprang into action, Richard turned to Jennsen.
"Please lay out some bedrolls in the back of the wagon, will you? I'd like Kahlan to be able to lie down and rest when we move out."
Jennsen patted Betty's shoulder, urging the goat to follow her. "Of course, Richard." She hurried off to the wagon, Betty trotting along close at her side.
As everyone rushed as quickly as possible to get their things together, Richard went by himself to an open patch of ground nearby to dig a shallow grave. There was no time for a funeral pyre. A lonely grave was the best they could do, but Sabar's spirit was gone, and wouldn't fault the necessity of their hurried care for his body.
