“No. Rahl sent the clouds to follow me, not to save you. I chose to come here, just as your spirit ancestors said I would. They said the rains would come, and a man would come when they did. They did not say I would be a spirit.”

There was great disappointment in the expressions of the elders as Kahlan interpreted—she hoped it wouldn’t turn to anger.

“Then maybe the message of the spirits was a warning about the man that would come,” Surin said.

“And maybe it was a warning about Rahl,” Richard answered right back. “I am offering you the truth. You must use your wisdom to see it, or your people are lost. I offer you a chance to help save yourselves.”

The elders considered in silence. “Your words seem to flow true, Richard With The Temper, but it is yet to be decided,” Toffalar said at last. “What is it you want from us?”

The elders sat quietly, the joy gone from their faces. The rest of the village waited in quiet fear. Richard regarded the face of each elder in turn, then spoke quietly.

“Darken Rahl looks for a magic that will give him the power to rule everyone, including the Mud People. I look for this magic also, so that I might deny him the power. I would like you to call a council of seers, to tell me where I might find this magic, before it is too late, before Rahl finds it first.”

Toffalar’s face hardened. “We do not call gatherings for outsiders.”

Kahlan could tell that Richard was getting angry and straining to control himself. She didn’t move her head, but her eyes swept around, gauging where everyone was, especially the men with weapons, in case they had to fight their way out. She didn’t judge their chances of escape to be very good. Suddenly, she wished she had never brought him here.

Richard’s eyes were full of fire as he looked around at the people of the village and then back to the elders. “In return for bringing you the rain, I ask of you only that you do not decide right now. Consider what manner of man you find me to be.” He was keeping his voice calm, but there was no mistaking the import of his words. “Think it over carefully. Many lives depend upon your decision. Mine. Kahlan’s. Yours.”

As Kahlan translated, she was suddenly suffused with the cold feeling that Richard was not talking to the elders. He was speaking to someone else. She suddenly felt the eyes of that other on her. Her own gaze swept the crowd. All eyes were on the two of them—she didn’t know whose gaze she still felt.

“Fair” Toffalar proclaimed at last. “You both are free to be among our people as honored guests while we consider. Please enjoy all we have, share our food and our homes.”

The elders departed, through the light rain, toward the communal buildings. The crowd went back to their business, shooing the children as they went. Savidlin was the last to leave. He smiled and offered his help in anything they might need. She thanked him as he stepped off into the rain. Kahlan and Richard sat alone on the wet wooden floor, dodging the drips of rainwater leaking through the roof. The woven trays of tava bread and the bowl of roasted peppers remained behind. She leaned over and took one of each, wrapping the bread around the pepper. She handed it to Richard and made herself another.

“You angry with me?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted with a smile “I am proud of you.”

A little-boy grin spread on his face. He began eating, with his right hand, and made short work of it. After he swallowed the last bite, he spoke again.

“Look over my right shoulder. There is a man leaning against the wall, long gray hair, arms folded across his chest. Tell me if you know who he is.”

Kahlan took a bite of the bread and pepper, chewing as she glanced over his shoulder.

“He is the Bird Man. I don’t know anything about him, except that he can call birds to himself.”

Richard took another piece of bread, rolled it up, and took a bite. “I think it’s time we went and had a talk with him.”

“Why?”

Richard looked up at her from under his eyebrows. “Because he’s the one who is in charge around here.”

Kahlan frowned. “The elders are in charge.”

Richard smiled with one side of his mouth. “My brother always says that real power is not brokered in public.” He watched her intently with his gray eyes. “The elders are for show. They are respected, and so are put on display for others to see. Like the skulls on the poles, only they still have the skin on them. They have authority because they are esteemed, but they are not in charge.” With a quick flick of his eyes, Richard indicated the Bird Man leaning against the wall behind him. “He is.”

“Then why has he not made himself known?”

“Because,” he said, grinning, “he wants to know how smart we are.”

Richard stood and held his hand out to her. She stuffed the rest of the bread in her mouth, brushed her hands on her pants, and took his hand. As he hoisted her up, she thought about how much she liked the way he always offered her his hand. He was the first person who had ever done that. It was just one part of why it felt so easy being with him.

They walked across the mud, through the cold rain, toward the Bird Man. He still leaned against the wall, his sharp brown eyes watching them come. Long hair, mostly silver-gray, lay on his shoulders, flowing partway down the deerskin tunic that matched his pants. His clothes had no decoration, but a bone carving hung on a leather thong around his neck. Not old, but not young, and still handsome, he was about as tall as she. The skin of his weathered face was as tough-looking as the deerskin clothes he wore.

They stopped in front of him. He continued to lean his shoulders against the wall, and his right knee stuck out as his foot propped against the plastered brick. His arms lay folded across his chest as he studied their faces.

Richard folded his arms across his own chest. “I would like to talk to you, if you are not afraid I might be a spirit.”

The Bird Man’s eyes went to hers as she translated, then back to Richard’s.

“I have seen spirits before,” he said in a quiet voice. “They do not carry swords.”

Kahlan translated. Richard laughed. She liked his easy laugh.

“I also have seen spirits, and you are right, they do not carry swords.” A small smile curled the corners of the Bird Man’s mouth. He unfolded his arms and stood up straight. “Strength to the Seeker.” He gave Richard a gentle slap.

“Strength to the Bird Man,” he said, returning the easy slap.

The Bird Man took the bone carving that hung on the leather thong at his neck, and put it to his lips. Kahlan realized it was a whistle. His cheeks puffed out as he blew, but there was no sound. Letting the whistle drop back, he held his arm out while he continued to hold Richard’s eyes. After a moment, a hawk wheeled out of the gray sky and alighted on his outstretched arm. It fluffed its feathers, then let them settle as its black eyes blinked and its head swiveled about in short, jerky movements.

“Come,” the Bird Man said, “we will talk.”

He led them among the large communal buildings, to a smaller one at the back, set away from the others. Kahlan knew the building with no windows, although she had never been in it. It was the spirit house, where the gatherings were held.

The hawk stayed on his arm as the Bird Man pulled the door open and motioned them inside. A small fire was burning in a pit at the back end, offering a little light to the otherwise dark room. A hole in the roof above the fire let the smoke out, although it did a poor job of it, and left the place with a sharp smoky smell. Pottery bowls left from past meals lay about the floor, and a plank shelf along one wall held a good two dozen ancestral skulls. Otherwise, the room was empty. The Bird Man found a place near the center of the room where the rain wasn’t dripping, and sat down on the dirt floor. Kahlan and Richard sat side by side, facing him, as the hawk watched their movements.