Kahlan knew that Derma, the Mord-Sith who had captured Richard, had taken him for her mate. Cara knew it, too. When Richard would sometimes wake with a start and cling to her, Kahlan wondered if his nightmares were of things imaginary or real. When she kissed his sweat-slicked brow and asked what he had dreamed, he never remembered. She was thankful for that much of it.

Richard retrieved a long stick that had been propped against one of the rocks ringing the fire. With his finger, he slid several sizzling pieces of bacon off the stick and into the captain's bowl, and then set the big piece of bannock on top. They had with them a variety of food. Kahlan shared the carnage with all the supplies Richard had picked up along their journey north to Hartland. They had enough staples to last for a good long time.

"Thank you," Captain Meiffert stammered. He brushed back his fall of blond hair. "It looks delicious."

"It is," Richard said. "You're lucky: I made dinner tonight, instead of Cara."

Cara, proud of being a poor cook, smiled as if it were an accomplishment of note.

Kahlan was sure it was a story that would be repeated to wide eyes and stunned disbelief: the Lord Rahl himself serving food to one of his men. By the way the captain ate, she guessed it had been longer than a day since he had eaten. As big as he was, she figured he had to need a lot of food.

He swallowed and looked up. "My horse." He began to stand. "When Mistress Cara. . I forgot my horse. I need-"

"Eat your food." Richard stood and clapped Captain Meiffert's shoulder to keep him seated. "I was going to check on our horses anyway. I'll see to yours as well. I'm sure it would like some water and oats, too."

"But, Lord Rahl, I can't allow you to-"

"Eat. This will save time; when I get back, you'll be done and then you can give me your report." Richard's shape became indistinct as he dissolved into the shadows, leaving only a disembodied voice behind. "But I'm afraid I still won't have any orders for General Reibisch."

In the stillness, crickets once again took up their rhythmic chirping.

Some distance away, Kahlan heard a night bird calling. Beyond the nearby trees, the horses whinnied contentedly, probably when Richard greeted them. Every once in a while a feather of mist strayed in under the overhang to dampen her cheek. She wished she could turn on her side and close her eyes. Richard had given her some herb tea and it was beginning to make her drowsy. At least it dulled the pain, too.

"How are you, Mother Confessor?" Captain Meiffert asked. "Everyone is terribly worried about you."

A Confessor wasn't often confronted with such honest and warm concern.

The young man's simple question was so sincere it almost brought Kahlan to tears.

"I'm getting better, Captain. Tell everyone I'll be fine after I've had some time to heal. We're going someplace quiet where I can enjoy the fresh air of the arriving summer and get some rest. I'll be better before autumn, I'm sure. By then, I hope Richard will be of the war."

The captain smiled. "Everyone will be relieved to know you're healing.

I can't tell you how many people told me that when I return they want to hear how you're doing."

"Tell them I said I'll be fine and I asked for them not to worry anymore about me, but to take care of themselves."

He ate another spoonful. Kahlan saw in his eyes that there was more to the man's anxiety. It took him a moment before he addressed it.

"We are concerned, too, that you and Lord Rahl need protection."

Cara, already sitting straight, nevertheless managed to straighten more, at the same time making the subtle shift in her posture appear threatening. "Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor are not without protection, Captain; they have me. Anything more than a Mord-Sith is just pretty brass buttons."

This time, he didn't back down. His voice rang with the clear tone of authority. "This is not a matter of disrespect, Mistress Cara, nor is presumption intended. Like you, I am sworn to their safety, and that is my proper concern. These brass buttons have met the enemy before in the defense of Lord Rahl, and I don't really believe a Mord-Sith would want to deter me from that duty for no more reason than petty pride."

"We're going to a remote and secluded place," Kahlan said, before Cara could answer. "I think our solitude, and Cara, will be ample protection. If Richard wishes it otherwise, he will say so."

With a reluctant nod, he accepted her answer. The last of it, anyway, settled the matter.

When Richard had taken Kahlan north, he had left their guard forces behind. She knew it was deliberate, probably part of his conviction about what he felt he had to do. Richard wasn't opposed to the concept of protection; in the past, he had accepted troops being with them. Cara, too, had been insistent on having the security of those troops along. It was different, though, for Cara to admit it directly to Captain Meiffert.

They had spent a good deal of time in Anderith with the captain and his elite forces. Kahlan knew him to be a superb officer. She thought he must be approaching his mid-twenties-probably a soldier for a decade already and the veteran of a number of campaigns, from minor rebellions to open warfare. The sharp wholesome lines of his face were just beginning to take on a mature set.

Over millennia, through war, migration, and occupation, other cultures had mixed in with the D'Haran, leaving a blend of peoples. Tall and broad-shouldered, Captain Meiffert was marked as full-blooded D'Haran by blond hair and blue eyes, as was Cara. The bond was strongest in full-blooded D'Harans.

After he had finished about half his rice, he glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness where Richard had gone. His earnest blue eyes took in both Cara and Kahlan.

"I don't mean it to sound judgmental or personal, and I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, but may I ask you both a. . a sensitive question?"

"You may, Captain," Kahlan said. "But I can't promise we will answer it."

The last part gave him pause for a moment, but then he went on.

"General Reibisch and some of the other officers. . well, there have been worried discussions about Lord Rahl. We trust in him, of course," he was quick to add. "We really do. It's just that. ."

"So what are your concerns, then, Captain?" Cara put in, her brow drawing tight. "If you trust him so much."

He stirred his wooden spoon around the bowl. "I was there in Anderith through the whole thing. I know how hard he worked-and you, too, Mother Confessor. No Lord Rahl before him ever worried about what the people wanted. In the past, the only thing that mattered was what the Lord Rahl wanted. Then, after all that, the people rejected his offer-rejected him. He sent us back to the main force, and just left us"-he gestured around himself-"to come here. Out in the middle of nowhere. To be a recluse, or something." He paused while searching for the right words. "We don't. . understand it, exactly."

He looked up from the fire, back into their eyes, as he went on. "We're worried that Lord Rahl has lost his will to fight-that he simply no longer cares. Or perhaps. . he is afraid to fight?"

The look on his face told Kahlan that he feared reprisal for saying the things he said, and for asking such a question, but he needed the answer enough to risk it. This was probably why he had come to give a report, rather than send a simple messenger.

"About six hours before he cooked that nice dinner pot of rice and beans," Cara said in a casual manner, "he killed a couple dozen men. All by himself. Hacked them apart like I've never seen before. The violence of it shocked even me. He left only one man for me to dispatch. Quite unfair of him, I think."

Captain Meiffert looked positively relieved as he let out a long breath. He looked away from Cara's steady gaze and back into his bowl to stir his dinner.