On the trail home, Kahlan heard soft whimpers from the brush at the side of the road, moans of mortal pain. To her horror, she discovered Dennee, thrown there, discarded.

“I was… coming to meet you… I wanted to walk back with you,” Dennee had said as Kahlan cradled the girl’s head in her lap. “A quad caught me. I’m sorry. I got one of them, Kahlan. I touched him. I got one of them. You would have been proud of me.”

In shock, Kahlan held Dennee’s head, comforted her, telling her it would be all right.

“Please, Kahlan… pull my dress down for me?” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a faraway place. Wet and weak. “My arms don’t work.”

Past panic, Kahlan saw why. Dennee’s arms had been brutally broken. They lay useless at her sides, bent in places where they shouldn’t be bent. Blood trickled from one ear. Kahlan pulled what was left of the blood-soaked dress over her sister, covering her as best she could. Her head spun with the horror of what the men had done. The choking feeling in her throat wouldn’t let words come out. She strained to hold back her screams, fearful of frightening her sister any more. She knew she had to be strong for her this one last time.

Dennee whispered Kahlan’s name, beckoning her closer. “Darken Rahl did this to me… he wasn’t here, but he did this to me.”

“I know,” Kahlan said with all the tenderness she could gather. “Lie still, it will be all right. I will take you home.” She knew it was a lie, knew Dennee would not be all right.

“Please, Kahlan,” she whispered, “kill him. Stop this madness. I wish I were strong enough. Kill him for me.”

Anger boiled up in her. It was the first time Kahlan had ever wanted to use her power to hurt someone, to kill someone. She had gone to the brink of feeling something she had never felt before or since. A terrible wrath, a force from deep within—a frightening birthright. With shaking fingers, she stroked Dennee’s bloody hair.

“I will,” she promised.

Dennee relaxed back in her arms. Kahlan took off the bone necklace and placed it around her sister’s neck.

“I want you to have this. It will help protect you.”

“Thank you, Kahlan.” She smiled, tears rolling from her wide eyes, down the pale skin of her cheeks. “But nothing can protect me now. Save yourself. Don’t let them get you. They enjoy it. They hurt me so much… and they enjoyed it. They laughed at me.”

Kahlan closed her eyes against the sickening sight of her sister’s pain, rocked her in her arms, and kissed her forehead.

“Remember me, Kahlan. Remember the fun we had.”

“Bad memories?”

Kahlan’s head snapped up, jolted out of her thoughts. The Bird Man stood beside her, having come up silently, unnoticed. She nodded, looking away from his gaze.

“Please forgive me for showing weakness,” she said, clearing her throat as her fingers wiped the tears from her face.

He regarded her with soft brown eyes and sat lightly beside her on the short bench.

“It is not a weakness, child, to be a victim.”

She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and swallowed back the wail that was trying to fight its way out of her throat.

She felt so alone. She so missed Dennee. The Bird Man put his arm tenderly around her shoulder and gave her a short, fatherly hug.

“I was thinking of my sister, Dennee. She was murdered by order of Darken Rahl. I found her… She died in my arms… They hurt her so bad. Rahl is not content to kill. He must see to it that people suffer before they die.”

He nodded his understanding. “Though we be different peoples, we hurt the same.” With his thumb, he brushed a tear from her cheek, then reached into his pocket. “Hold out your hand.”

She did as he asked, and he poured some small seeds in it. Surveying the sky, he blew the whistle that made no sound, the one that hung from his neck, and shortly a small, bright yellow bird lit with a flutter upon his finger. He placed his hand next to hers so it could climb over and eat the seeds. Kahlan could feel its tiny little feet gripping her finger while it pecked away at the seeds. The bird was so bright and pretty it made her smile. The Bird Man’s leathery face smiled with her. When it finished eating, the bird fluffed itself up and sat contentedly, without fear.

“I thought you might like to gaze upon a small vision of beauty among the ugliness.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Do you wish to keep him?”

Kahlan watched the bird a moment longer, its bright yellow feathers, the way it cocked its head, and then cast it into the air.

“I have no right,” she said, watching the bird flit away. “It should be free.”

A small smile brightened the Bird Man’s face as he gave a single nod. Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees, he looked over at the spirit house. The work was almost done, maybe one more day. Long, silver-gray hair slipped off his shoulders and down around his face, hiding his expression from her. Kahlan sat awhile and watched Richard working on the roof. She ached to have him hold her right now, and hurt all the more because she knew she couldn’t allow it.

“You wish to kill him, this man, Darken Rahl?” he asked without turning to her.

“Very much.”

“And is your power enough?”

“No,” she admitted.

“And does the Seeker’s blade have enough power to kill him?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

The clouds were getting darker as the day was drawing to an end. Light rain was beginning to fall once more, and the gloom among the buildings was deepening.

“As you said yourself, it is dangerous to be with a Confessor who is in great want of something. I think this is also true of the Seeker. Maybe even more so.”

She paused a moment, then spoke softly. “I do not wish to put words to what Darken Rahl did with his own hands to Richard’s father—it would make you fear the Seeker all the more. But know that Richard would also have let the bird fly free.”

The Bird Man seemed to laugh without sound. “You and I are too smart for these tricks with words. Let us speak without them.” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I have tried to tell the other elders what a wonderful thing the Seeker is doing for our people, how good it is that he is teaching us these things. They are not so sure, as they are set in their ways and can be stubborn, sometimes almost beyond my tolerance. I fear what you and the Seeker will do to my people if the elders say no.”

“Richard has given you his word that he will not harm your people.”

“Words are not as strong as a father’s blood. Or as strong as a sister’s.”

Kahlan leaned back against the wall, pulling her cloak around her, shutting out the wet breeze. “I am a Confessor because I was born so. I did not seek the power. I would have chosen otherwise, would have chosen to be like other people. But I must live with what I was given, and make the best of it. Despite what you may think of the Confessors, despite what most people think, we are here to serve the people, to serve the truth. I love all the people of the Midlands, and would give my life to protect them, to keep them free. That is all I wish to do. And yet I am alone.”

“Richard keeps his eyes on you, he watches over you, cares for you.”

She looked over out of the corner of her eye. “Richard is from Westland. He does not know what I am. If he knew…”

The Bird Man lifted his eyebrow at hearing this. “For one who serves the truth…”

“Please do not remind me. It is trouble of my own making, with consequences I must bear, and fear greatly. And that only proves my words. The Mud People live in a land distant from the other peoples. That has given them the luxury of being out of reach of trouble in the past. This trouble has long arms—it will reach you. The elders can argue against helping all they want, but they will not be able to argue against the fangs of truth. All of your people will pay the price if these few put pride before wisdom.”