Kahlan reconsidered her thought. After the letter from Nicci and learning the meaning of the warning beacon, she now had even more reason to doubt that many things, including spirits, were still true. The world of the dead was connected to the world of the living by links of magic. The veil itself was magic and said to be within those like Richard. They had learned that without magic those links themselves could fail, and that, since those other worlds couldn't exist independent of the world of life, but only existed in a relational sense to the world of life, should the links fail completely, those other worlds might very well cease to exist-much as, without the sun, the concept of daytime would not exist.
It was now clear to Kahlan that the world's hold on magic was slipping, and had been slipping for several years.
She knew the reason.
Spirits, the good and the bad, and the existence of everything else that depended on magic, might soon be lost. That meant that death would become final, in every sense of the word. It could even be that there was no longer the possibility of being with a loved one after death, or of being with the good spirits. The good spirits, even the underworld itself, might be passing into nothingness.
When Richard was finished, Tom helped him gently place Sabar's body in the ground. After Tom spoke quiet words asking the good spirits to watch over one of their own, he and Richard covered the body over.
"Lord Rahl," Tom said in a low voice when they were finished, "while some of the men began the attack on you, here, others slit the horses'
throats before joining their fellows to come after you four."
"All the horses?"
"Except mine. My draft horses are pretty big. The men were probably worried about getting trampled. They left some men to take care of me, so these here thought they had me out of the way. They probably figured they could worry about the draft horses later, after they had the rest of you."
Tom shrugged his broad shoulders. "Maybe they even planned to capture you, tie you up, and take you in the wagon."
Richard acknowledged Tom's words with a single nod. He wiped his fingers across his forehead. Kahlan thought he looked worse than she felt.
She could see that the headache had returned and was crushing him under the weight of its pain.
Tom looked around their camp, his gaze playing over the fallen men.
"What should we do with the rest of the bodies?"
"The races can have the rest of them," Richard said without hesitation.
Tom didn't look to have any disagreement with that. "I'd better go help Friedrich finish getting the horses hitched to the wagon. They'll be a handful with the scent of blood in their nostrils and the sight of the others dead."
As Tom went to see to his horses, Richard called to Cara. "Count the bodies," he told her. "We need to know the total."
"Richard," Kahlan asked in a confidential tone after Tom was out of earshot and Cara had started stepping over some of the bodies and between others, going about the task of taking a count, "what happened when you drew the sword?"
He didn't ask what she meant or try to spare her from worry.
"There's something wrong with its magic. When I drew the sword, it failed to heed my call. The men were rushing in and I couldn't delay in what I had to do. Once I met the attack, the magic finally reacted.
"It's probably due to the headaches from the gift-they must be interfering with my ability to join with the sword's magic."
"The last time you had the headaches they didn't interfere with the sword's power."
"I told you, don't let your imagination get carried away. This has only happened since I've started getting the headaches again. That has to be the reason."
Kahlan didn't know if she dared believe him, or if he really even believed it himself. He was right, though. The problem with the sword's magic had only recently developed-after he started getting the headaches.
"They're getting worse, aren't they?"
He nodded. "Come on, let's get what answers we can."
Kahlan let out a tired sigh, resigned to that part of it. They had to use this chance to find out what information was now available to them.
Kahlan turned to the man still on his knees.
The man's tearful eyes gazed pleadingly up at Kahlan as she stepped in front of him. He had been waiting, alone and without her wishes, for quite a while and as a result was in a state of dire misery.
"You are to come with us," Kahlan told him in a cold tone. "You are to walk in front of the wagon for now, where we can keep an eye on you. You will obey the orders of any of the others with me as you would obey my orders. You will answer all questions truthfully."
The man fell to his belly on the ground, in tears, kissing her feet, thanking her profusely for at last commanding him. Groveling on the ground, with that V-shaped notch in his ear, he reminded her of nothing so much as a swine.
Fists at her side, Kahlan screamed "Stop that!" She didn't want this murdering pig touching her.
