Michael's HOUSE WAS a massive structure of white stone, set back quite a distance from the road. Slate roofs in a variety of angles and rakes came together in complicated junctures topped with a leaded-glass peak that let light into the central hall. The walkway to the house was shaded from the bright afternoon sun by towering white oaks as it passed through sweeping stretches of lawn before coming to formal gardens laid in symmetrical patterns to each side. The gardens were in full bloom. Since it was so late in the year, Richard knew the flowers had to have been raised in greenhouses just for the occasion.

People in fine clothes strolled the lawns and gardens, making Richard feel suddenly out of place. He knew he must look a mess in his dirty, sweat-stained forest garb, but he hadn't wanted to waste the time going out of his way to his house to get cleaned up. Besides, he was in a dark mood and didn't much care how he looked. He had more important things on his mind.

Kahlan, on the other hand, didn't look so out of place. The unusual but striking dress she wore belied the fact that she, too, had just walked out of the woods. Considering how much blood there had been up on Blunt Cliff, he was surprised that she didn't have any on her. She had somehow managed to stay clear while the men killed each other.

When she had seen how upset he had become when she had told him she had come through the boundary from the Midlands, she had fallen silent on the subject. Richard needed time to think about it, and hadn't pressed. Instead she asked him about Westland, what the people were like and where he lived. He told her about his house in the woods, how he liked living away from town, and that he was a guide for travelers through the Hartland Woods on their way to or from the town itself.

"Does your house have a fireplace?" she had asked.

"It does."

"Do you use it?"

"Yes, I cook on it all the time," he had told her. "Why?"

She had merely shrugged as she looked off to the countryside. "I just miss sitting in front of a fire, that's all."

As unsettling as the day's events had been, on top of his grief, it felt good to have someone to talk to, even if she did dance around her secrets.

"Invitation, sir?" someone called in a deep voice from the shade beside the entry.

Invitation? Richard spun around to see who had addressed him and was met by a mischievous grin. Richard broke into a grin of his own. It was his friend Chase. He clasped hands with the boundary warden in a warm greeting.

Chase was a big man, clean-shaven, with a head of light brown hair that showed no sign of receding but instead gave way to age by going gray at the sides. Heavy brows shaded intense brown eyes that stole slowly about, even as he talked, and saw everything. This habit often gave people the impression-a seriously mistaken impression-that he wasn't paying attention. Despite his size, Chase was, Richard knew, frighteningly quick when there was need. Chase wore a brace of knives to one side of his belt, and a six-bladed battle mace to the other. The hilt of a short sword stood above his right shoulder, and a crossbow with a full complement of barbed, steel-tipped bolts hung from a leather strap on his left

Richard lifted an eyebrow. "Looks like you plan on getting your share of the food."

The grin left Chase's face. "Not here as a guest." His gaze settled on Kahlan.

Richard felt the awkwardness. He took Kahlan's arm and drew her forward. She came easily, unafraid.

"Chase, this is my friend, Kahlan." He gave her a smile. "This is Dell Brandstone. Everyone calls him Chase. He's an old friend of mine. We're safe with him." He turned back to Chase. "You can trust her, too."

She looked at the big man and gave him a smile and nod of acknowledgment.

Chase nodded once to her, the matter settled, Richard's word being all the reassurance he needed. His eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on various people, checking their interest in the three of them. He pulled them both away from the sunlit openness of the steps and into the shade off to the side.

"Your brother called in all the boundary wardens." He paused, taking another look around. "To be his personal guards."

"What! That doesn't make any sense!" Richard was incredulous. "He has the Home Guard, and the army. What does he need a few boundary wardens for?"

Chase rested his left hand on one of the knife handles: "What, indeed." His face gave no hint of emotion. It rarely did. "Could be he just wants us around for effect. People are afraid of the wardens. You've been away to the woods since your father was killed, not that I'm saying I wouldn't do the same if I were you. All I'm saying is you haven't been around. Strange things have been going on, Richard. People coming and going in the night. Michael calls them `concerned citizens. He's been talking some nonsense about plots against the government. He has the wardens all over the grounds."

Richard looked around, but didn't see any. He knew that didn't mean anything. If a boundary warden didn't want to be seen, he could be standing on your foot and you wouldn't be able to find him.

Chase drummed his fingers on a knife handle as he watched Richard's eyes scan about. "My boys are out there, take my word." "Well, how do you know Michael isn't right, what with the father of the new First Councilor being murdered and all?"

Chase gave his finest look of disgust. "I know every little slime in Westland. There's no plot. Might be a bit of fun to be had if there were, but I think I'm just part of the decoration. Michael said I should `stay visible. " His expression sharpened. "And about your father's murder, well, George Cypher and I go way back, way back to before when you were born, back to before the boundary. He was a good man. I was proud to call him friend." Anger heated in his eyes. "I've twisted a few fingers." He shifted his weight, taking another look around before bringing his fierce expression back to Richard. "Twisted hard. Hard enough to cause their owners to spit out their own mother's name if it had been the right one. No one knows a thing, and believe me, if they did they would have been happy to have shortened our conversation. First time I've ever chased anyone and not been able to get even a whiff." He folded his arms, and his grin came back as he eyed Richard up and down. "Speaking of slime, what have you been about? You look like one of my customers."

Richard glanced to Kahlan, and then back to Chase. "We were up in the high Ven." Richard lowered his voice. "We were attacked by four men."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Anyone I would know?"

Richard shook his head.

Chase frowned. "So where did these four fellows go after they jumped you?"

"You know the trail across Blunt Cliff?"

"Of course."

"They're on the rocks at the bottom. We're going to have to have a talk."

Chase unfolded his arms and stared at the two of them. "I'll have a look." His eyebrows knitted together. "How'd you manage it?"

Richard exchanged a quick glance with Kahlan and looked back to the boundary warden. "I think the good spirits protected us."

Chase shot them each a suspicious glare. "That so? Well, better not to tell Michael about this right now. I don't think he believes in good spirits." He studied both their faces. "And if you think there's a need, you two come stay at my place. You'll be safe enough there."

Richard thought about all of Chase's children and knew he didn't want to endanger them, but he didn't want to argue the point either, so he just nodded.

"We better get in there. Michael is sure to be missing me."

"One more thing," Chase said. "Zedd wants to see you. He's in a big fret about something. Says it's real important."

Richard looked up over his shoulder and saw the same strange snakelike cloud. "I think I need to see him, too." He turned and started to leave.

"Richard," Chase said with a look that would have withered anyone else, "tell me what were you doing in the high Ven."

Richard didn't shy away. "Same as you. Trying to get a whiff."

Chase's hard face softened, and a hint of his smile came back. "Get one?"

Richard nodded as he held up his red, sore left hand. "And it bites.".

The two turned and melted into the crowd entering the house, moving through the entry, across white marble floors, to the elegant central meeting hall. Marble walls and columns glowed with a cold eerie cast where the sunlight streaming in from above touched them. Richard had always preferred the warmth of wood, but Michael had maintained that anyone could go out and make what they wanted from wood, but if you wanted marble, you had to hire a lot of people who lived in wood houses to do the work for you. Richard remembered a time before their mother died, when he and. Michael played in the dirt, building houses and forts with sticks. Michael had helped him then. He wanted so much for Michael to help him now.

People Richard recognized greeted him, getting only a wooden smile or quick handshake. Since Kahlan was from a strange land, Richard was a little surprised to see how comfortable she was around all the important people. It had already occurred to him that she, too, must be someone important. Gangs of assassins didn't hunt down unimportant people.

Richard found it difficult to smile at everyone. If the rumors about things coming out of the boundary were true, then all of Westland was in danger. Country people in the outlying areas of the Hartland were already terrified to go out at night and had recounted stories to him of people being found partly eaten. He had told them it was just that they had died of some natural cause, and wild animals had found the bodies. Happened all the time. They said it was beasts from the sky. He had passed it off as superstitious nonsense.

Until now.

Even with all the people around, Richard felt overwhelmingly lonely. He was confused and didn't know what to do about it. He didn't know who to turn to. Kahlan was the only one who made him feel better, but at the same time she frightened him. The encounter on the cliff frightened him. He wanted to take her and leave.

Zedd might know what to do. He used to live in the Midlands before the boundary, though he would never talk about it. And then there was the unsettling feeling he had that all of this had something to do with his father's death, and his father's death had something to do with his own secrets, the secrets his father had placed upon him and him alone.