Added to all that, Richard was unsettled by not having his sword with him when there was trouble about. He feared the Lurk trying to harm Kahlan, while he was unable to protect her. Even without the trouble caused by the Sisters of the Dark, there were any number of ordinary dangers for a Confessor, any number of people who would, were she defenseless, like to settle what they viewed as injustices.

With the spell eroding magic, sooner or later her Confessor's power would be gone, and she would be without its ability to protect her. He needed to be able to protect her, but without the sword he feared being inadequate to the task.

Every time he reached for his sword and it wasn't there, he felt an emptiness he couldn't express in words. It was as if part of him was missing.

Even so, Richard was for some reason uneasy about going to Aydindril. Something about it felt wrong. He rationalized it as worry about leaving Zedd when he was so weak and vulnerable. But Zedd had made it clear there was no choice.

Up until he had spotted the approaching stranger, their second day had been looking sunny, dry, and more agreeable. Richard put some tension to the bowstring. After their encounter with the chicken-thing, or rather the Lurk, and with so much at stake, he didn't intend to let anyone get close unless he knew them to be a friend.

Richard frowned over at Kahlan. "You know, I think my mother once told me a story or something about a cat named 'Lurk. »

Holding a fistful of hair to keep the breeze from blowing it across her face, Kahlan frowned back. "That's odd. Are you sure?"

"No. She died when I was young. It's hard to remember if I'm really remembering, or just fooling myself into thinking I am."

"What do you think you remember?" Kahlan asked.

Richard stretched the bowstring to test it, and then relaxed it partway. "I think I fell down and skinned a knee, or something, and she was trying to make me laugh-you know, to make me forget my hurt. I think she just that one time told me how when she was little, her mother told her a story of a cat that lurked about pouncing on things, and so earned the name Lurk. I'd swear I remember her laughing and asking if I didn't think that was a funny name."

"Yes, very funny," Cara said, making clear she thought it wasn't.

With a finger, she lifted the point of his arrow, and thus his bow, in the direction of the danger she seemed to think he was ignoring.

"What made you think of that, now?" Kahlan asked.

Richard pointed with his chin toward the approaching man. "I was considering a man being out here-you know, thinking of what other dangers might be lurking about."

"And when you thought of all these dangers lurking about," Cara said, "did you also decide to just stand around and let them all come to attack you as they wish?"

Ignoring Cara, Richard tilted his head toward the man. "You must see him now."

"No, I still don't see where it is you…. wait…" Hand to her brow, Kahlan rose up onto her tiptoes, as if that would help her see better. "There he is. I see him now."

"I think we should conceal ourselves in the grassland then pounce on him," Cara said.

"He saw us at the same time I saw him," Richard said. "He knows we're here. We couldn't surprise him."

"At least there is only one." Cara yawned. "We will have no trouble."

Cara, standing the middle watch, hadn't wakened him as early as she was supposed to for his turn at watch. She had left him sleeping an extra hour, at least. Middle watch, too, usually got less sleep.

Richard checked over his shoulder again. "You may see only one, but there are a number more. A dozen, at least."

Kahlan put her hand back to her forehead to shield her eyes. "I don't see any more." She looked to the sides and behind. "I only see the one. Are you sure?"

"Yes. When-I first saw him, and he saw me, he left the others and came alone toward us. They still wait."

Cara snatched up a pack. She shoved Kahlan's shoulder, then Richard's. "Let's go. We can outdistance them until we're out of sight and then hide. If they follow we will take them by surprise and put a quick end to the pursuit."

Richard returned the shove. "Would you just settle down? He's coming alone so as not to draw any arrows. If it was an attack he would have brought all his men at once. We will wait."

Cara folded her arms and pressed her lips together in a bit of ire. She seemed to be beyond her usual protective self. Whether or not she was ready to tell him, they were going to have to talk to her and find out what her problem was. Maybe Kahlan would have some luck.

The man lifted his arms, waving at them in a friendly gesture.

Suddenly recognizing the man, Richard took his hand from the bowstring and returned the greeting.

"It's Chandalen."

It wasn't long until Kahlan waved her arm, too. "You're right, it is Chandalen."

Richard returned his arrow to the quiver hung on his belt. "I wonder what he's doing out here."

"When you were still searching the chickens gathered together in the buildings," Kahlan said, "he went to check on some of his men on far patrol. He said they had encountered some heavily armed people. His men were worried about the behavior of the strangers."

"They were hostile?"

"No." Kahlan pushed her damp hair back over her shoulder. "But Chandalen's men said they had a calm about them when approached. That troubled him."

Richard nodded as he watched Chandalen's approach, seeing that he brought no weapons except a belt knife. As was the custom, he didn't smile as he trotted up to them.

Until proper greetings were exchanged, Mud People didn't usually smile when they encountered even friends on the plains.

With a grim expression, Chandalen quickly slapped Richard, Kahlan, and Cara. Though he had run most of the way, he seemed hardly winded as he greeted them by their titles.

"Strength to the Mother Confessor. Strength to Richard with the Temper." He added a nod to his spoken greeting of Cara; she was a protector, the same as he.

All three returned the slap and wished him their strength.

"Where are you going?" Chandalen asked.

"There's trouble," Richard said as he offered his water-skin. "We have to get back to Aydindril."

Chandalen accepted the waterskin as he let out a grumble of worry. "The chicken that is not a chicken?"

"In a way, yes," Kahlan told him. "It turns out it was magic conjured by the Sisters of the Dark Jagang is holding prisoner."

"Lord Rahl used his magic to destroy the chicken that was not a chicken," Cara put in.

Chandalen, looking relieved to hear her news, took a swig of water. 'Then why must you go to Aydindril?"

Richard rested the end of his bow on the ground and gripped the other end. "The spell the Sisters cast endangers everyone and everything of magic. It's making Zedd and Ann weak. They're waiting back at your village. In Aydindril we hope to unleash magic to counter the Sisters of the Dark, and then Zedd will be strong enough to put everything right again.

"The Sisters' magic made the chicken-thing that killed Juni. Until we can get to Aydindril, no one is safe."

Having listened carefully, Chandalen finally replaced the stopper and handed back the waterskin.

"Then you must soon be on your way to do what only you can." He checked over his shoulder. Now that Chandalen had identified himself, the others were approaching. "But my men have met strangers who must see you, first."

Richard hooked his bow back over his shoulder as he peered off into the distance. He couldn't make out the people.

"So, who are they?"

Chandalen stole a glance at Kahlan before directing his answer to Richard. "We have an old saying. It is best to hold your tongue around the cook, or you may end up in the pot with the chicken that ate her dinner greens."