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Chapter 3

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. Kahlan laid a hand on his arm. "Richard, I'm sorry. I didn't know . . . about your father. I'm sorry." With the frightening events of the day he had almost forgotten about it until Chase had brought it up.. Almost. He gave a little shrug. "Thanks." He waited a moment as a woman in a blue silk dress with ruffles of white lace at the neck, cuffs, and down the front walked past. He looked down at the floor as she moved by so he wouldn't have to return her smile if she gave him one. "It was three weeks ago." He told Kahlan a little of what had happened. She listened sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Richard. Perhaps you would rather be alone." He forced himself to smile. "No, it's all right. I've been alone enough. It helps to have a friend to talk to." She gave him a small smile and a nod, and they moved on through the crowd. Richard wondered where Michael was. It seemed odd that he wasn't out yet. Even though he had lost his appetite, he knew Kahlan hadn't eaten in two days. With all the tempting food around, he decided she must have remarkable self-control. The delicious smells were starting to change his mind about his appetite. He leaned closer to her. "Hungry?" "Very." He guided her over to a long table with food piled in tiers. There were large steaming platters of sausages and meats, boiled potatoes, dried fish of several kinds, grilled fish, chicken, turkey, mounds of raw vegetables sliced into strips, big tureens of cabbage and sausage soup, onion soup, and spice soup, platters of breads, cheeses, fruits, pies, and cakes, and casks of wine and ale. Servants were constantly coming and going to keep the platters full. Kahlan scrutinized them. "Some of the serving girls have long hair. That is allowed?" Richard looked around, a little bewildered. "Yes. Anyone can have any 'kind of hair they want. Look." He held his arm close to his chest and pointed as he leaned toward her. "Those women over there are councilors, some have short hair, some have long. Whatever they want." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do people tell you to cut your hair?" She lifted an eyebrow to him. "No. No one has ever asked me to cut my hair. It is simply that where I come from, the length of a woman's hair has a certain social significance." "Does that mean that you are someone of considerable standing?" He took the edge off the question with a playful smile. "Seeing as how you have such long, beautiful hair, I mean." She gave him back a small smile, devoid of joy. "Some think so. I could only expect that after this morning, the thought had entered your mind. We all can be only what we are, nothing more, or less." "Well, if I ask anything a friend shouldn't, just kick me." Her smile brightened into the same tight-lipped one she had given him before. The smile of sharing. It made him grin. He turned to the food and found one of his favorites, small ribs with a spice sauce, put a few on a small white plate, and handed it to her. "Try these first. They're my most treasured." Kahlan held the dish at arm's length, eyeing it suspiciously. "What creature's meat is this?" "It's pork," he said, a little surprised. "You know, from a pig. Try it, it's the best thing here, I promise." She relaxed, brought the plate close, and ate the meat. He ate a half dozen himself, savoring every bite. He put some sausages on their plates. "Here, have some. of these, too." Her suspicion flared anew. "What are they made of?" "Pork and beef, some spices, I don't know what kinds. Why? There some kinds of things you don't eat?" "Some kinds," she said noncommittally before eating a sausage. "May I have some spice soup, please?" He ladled the soup into a fine white bowl with a gold rim and traded it for her plate. She took the bowl in both hands and tried it. A smile came to her face. "It's good, just like I make. I don't think our two homelands are as different as you fear." As she drank the remainder of the soup, Richard, feeling better about what she said, picked up a thick slice of bread, put strips of chicken meat on it, and, when she finished the soup, exchanged the bread for her bowl. She took the bread with chicken and started moving to the side of the room while she ate. He set the soup bowl down and followed behind, shaking an occasional hand. Their owners cast a critical eye at the way he was dressed. When she reached a deserted spot near a column, she turned to face him. "Please get me a piece of cheese?" "Sure. What kind?" She scanned the throng. "Any kind." Richard worked his way back through the crowd to the food table and picked up two pieces of cheese, eating one along his way back to Kahlan. She took the cheese when he handed it to her, but instead of eating it, she let her arm slip to her side, and let the cheese fall to the floor, as if she had forgotten she was holding it. "Wrong kind?" Her tone was distant. "I hate cheese." She was staring past him to a spot across the room. Richard frowned. "Then why did you ask for it?" There was a hint of irritation in his voice "Keep looking at me," she said, her eyes returning to his. "There are two men behind you, across the room. They have been watching us. I wanted to know if it was me or you they were watching. When I sent you for the food they watched you go and come back. They paid no attention to me. It is you they are watching." Richard put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to see for himself. He scanned over the heads of the crowd, to the far side of the room. "They're just two of Michael's aides. They know me. They're probably wondering where I've been and why I look such a mess." He looked into her eyes and spoke softly so that no one would hear. "It's all right, Kahlan, relax. Those men from this morning are dead. You're safe now." She shook her head. "More will follow. I should not be with you. I do not want to endanger your life any more than I already have. You are my friend." "There is no way another quad could track you now, not once you have come here, to Hartland. It's impossible." He knew enough about tracking to feel confident that he was telling her the truth. Kahlan hooked a finger in the neck of his shirt and drew his face close. There was a flash of angry intolerance in her green eyes. Her voice came in a slow, harsh whisper. "When I left my homeland, five wizards cast spells over my tracks so none could know where I went, or follow, and then they killed themselves so they could not be made to talk!" Her teeth were gritted in anger, and her eyes were wet. She was starting to tremble. Wizards! Richard went rigid. At last, he let out his breath and took her hand gently from his shirt, holding it in both of his, his voice barely audible over the din. "I'm sorry." "Richard, I am scared to death!" She was trembling more now. "If you hadn't been there today, you don't know what would have happened to me. The dying would have been the best of it. You don't know about those men." She shook uncontrollably, giving herself over to her fear. He felt goose bumps on his arms. He eased her back behind the column where they couldn't be observed. "I'm sorry, Kahlan. I don't know what any of this is about. You know at least some of it, but I'm in the dark. I'm scared, too. Today on the cliff ... I've never been that afraid. And I didn't really do much of anything that would have saved us." Seeing her need was giving him the courage to reassure her. "What you did," she said struggling to get the words out, "was enough to make a difference. It was enough to save us. No matter how little you think it was, it was enough. If you hadn't helped me . . . I don't want my being here to bring you to harm." He squeezed her hand tighter. "It won't. I have a friend, Zedd. He may be able to tell us what we can do to keep you safe. He's a-little strange, but he's the smartest man I know. If there's anyone who would know what to do, it's Zedd. If you can be tracked anywhere, then there is no place for you to run; they will find you. Let me take you to Zedd. As soon as Michael gives his speech we will go to my house. You can sit in front of the fire, and in the morning I'll take you to Zedd." He smiled, and pointed with his chin to a window near them. "Look over there." She turned to see Chase outside a tall, round-topped window. The boundary warden glanced back over his shoulder and gave her a wink and a heartening grin before resuming his scan of the area. "To Chase, a quad would be just a bit of fun. While he was taking care of them, he'd be telling you a story about some real trouble. He's been watching out for you since we told him of the men." - That brought a small smile, but it quickly faded. "There is more to it. I thought I was going to be safe by coming to Westland. I should have been. Richard, I came across the boundary only with the help of magic." She was still shaking but starting to regain control of herself, taking strength from him. "I do not know how those men came across. They should not have been able to. They should not have even known I left the Midlands. Somehow, the rules have changed." "We'll deal with that tomorrow. For now, you are safe. Be- sides, it would take another quad days to get here, wouldn't it? That will give us time to make plans." She gave a nod. "Thank you, Richard Cypher. My friend. But know that if I bring danger to you, I will leave before it can harm you." She took her hand back and wiped the bottom lids of her eyes. "I am still hungry. Could we have more?" Richard smiled. "Sure, what would you like?" "Some more of your little treasures?" They went back to the food and ate while they waited for Michael. Richard felt better, not about the things she told him, but because at least he knew a little more, and because he had made her feel safe. Somehow he would find the answer to her problem, and he would know what was going on with the boundary. As much as he feared the answers, he would know them. Whispers rippled through the crowd as heads turned to the far side of the room. It was Michael. Richard took Kahlan's hand and moved to the side of the room, closer to his brother, so they could watch. As Michael stepped up onto a platform, Richard realized why it had taken him so long to come out. He had been waiting for the sunlight to fall on that spot, so he could stand in the light and be lit in its glory for all to see. Not only was he shorter than Richard, but heavier and softer. Sunlight lit his mop of unruly hair. His upper lip proudly displayed a mustache. He wore baggy white trousers, and his white tunic with bloused sleeves was cinched at the waist by a gold belt. Standing there in the sunlight, Michael positively gleamed, casting the same cold, eerie glow the marble did when struck by the sun. He stood out in stark relief against the shadowed background. Richard held up his hand to catch his attention. Michael saw the hand and smiled at his brother, holding his eyes for a moment as he began speaking, before shifting his gaze to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, today I accepted the position of First Councilor of Westland." A roar went up from the room. Michael listened without moving, then thrust his arms suddenly into the air, calling for silence. He waited until every last cough died out. "The councilors from all of Westland selected me to lead us in these times of challenge because I have the courage and vision to take us into a new era. Too long we have lived looking to the past and not to the future! Too long we have chased old ghosts and been blind to new callings! Too long we have listened to those who would seek to drag us into war and ignored those who would guide us on a path to peace!" . The crowd went wild. Richard was dumbfounded. What was Michael talking about? What war? There was no one to have a war with! Michael held up his hands again and, not waiting for quiet this time, went on. "I will not stand by while the Westland is put into peril by these traitors!" His face was red and angry. The crowd roared again, this time with fists jabbing the air. They chanted Michael's name. Richard and Kahlan looked at each other. "Concerned citizens have come forward to identify these cowards, these traitors. At this very moment, as we join our hearts here today in a common goal, the boundary wardens protect us while the army is rounding up these conspirators who plot against the government. They are not the common criminals you might think, but respected men in high authority!" Murmurs swept across the assembly. Richard was stunned. Could it be true? A conspiracy? His brother hadn't gotten where he was by not knowing what was going on. Men in high authority. That would certainly explain why Chase didn't know anything about it. Michael stood in the shaft of sunlight, waiting for the whispering to die down. When he began again his voice was low and warm. "But that is past history. Today we look to our new course. One reason I was chosen as First Councilor is because being a Hartlander, I have lived my life in the shadow of the boundary, a shadow that has shaded all our lives. But that is looking to the past. The light of a new day always chases the shadows of the night away, and shows us that the shape of our fears is only the ghost of our own minds. "We must look forward to a day when the boundary will no longer be there, for nothing lasts forever, does it? And when that day comes we must be ready to extend a hand of friendship and not a sword, as some would have us do. That only leads to the futility of war and needless dying. "Should we be wasting our resources, preparing to do battle with a people we have been long separated from, a people who were the ancestors to many of us here? Should we be ready to do violence to our brothers and sisters simply because we don't know them? What a waste! Our resources should be spent eliminating the real suffering around us. When the time comes, maybe not in our lifetime, but it will come, we should be ready to welcome our long-separated brothers and sisters. We must not join only the two lands, but all three! For someday, just as the boundary between Westland and the Midlands will fade away, so too will the second boundary between the Midlands and D' Hara, and all three lands shall be one! We can look to a day when we can share the joy of reunion, if we have the heart! And that joy will spread from here, today, in Hartland! "This is why I have moved to stop those who would plunge us into war with our brothers and sisters merely because someday the boundaries will fade away. This does not mean we don't need the army, for we can never know what real threats lie in our path to peace, but we know there is no need to invent them!" Michael swept his hand out over the crowd. "We in this room are the future. It is your responsibility as councilors of Westland to carry the word throughout the country! Take our message of peace to the good people. They will see the truth in your hearts. Please help me. I want our children and our grandchildren to be the beneficiaries of what we lay down here today. I want us to set a course for peace to carry us into the future, so when the time comes, future generations will benefit and thank us." Michael stood with his head bowed and both his fists held tightly to his chest. The sunlight glowed about him. The audience was so moved that they stood in absolute silence. Richard saw men in tears, and women weeping openly. All eyes were on Michael, who stood still as stone. Richard was stunned. He had never heard his brother speak with such conviction or eloquence. It all seemed to make such sense. After all, here he stood with a woman from across the boundary, from the Midlands, and she was already his friend. But then, four others had tried to kill him. No, not exactly, he thought; they wanted to kill her; he was just in the way. They had offered to let him go, and it was his decision to stand and fight. He had always been fearful of those from across the boundary, but now he was friends with one, just as Michael said. He was starting to see his bother in a new light. People had been moved by Michael's words in a way Richard had never witnessed. Michael was pleading for peace and friendship with other peoples. What could be wrong with that? Why did he feel so uneasy? "And now, to the other part," Michael continued, "to the real suffering around us. While we have worried about the boundaries that have not harmed a single one of us, many of our families, friends, and neighbors have suffered, and died. Tragic and needless deaths, in accidents with fire. Yes, that is what I said. Fire." People mumbled in confusion. Michael was starting to lose his bond with the crowd. He seemed to expect it; he looked from face to face, letting the confusion build, and then dramatically he thrust his hand out, his finger pointing. At Richard. "There!" he screamed. Everyone turned as one. Hundreds of yes looked at Richard. "There stands my beloved brother!" Richard tried to shrink. "My beloved brother who shares with me"-he pounded a fist to his chest "the tragedy of losing our own mother to fire! Fire took our mother from us when we were young, and left us to grow up alone, without her love and care, without her guidance. It was not some imagined enemy from across a boundary that took her, but an enemy of fire! She couldn't be there to comfort us when we hurt, when we cried in the night. And the thing that wounds the most is that it didn't have to be." Tears, glistening in the sunlight, ran down Michael's cheeks. "I am sorry, friends, please forgive me." He wiped the tears with a handkerchief he had handy. "It's just that only this morning I heard of another fire that took a fine young mother and father, and left their daughter an orphan. It brought my own pain back to me and I couldn't remain silent." Everyone was now solidly back with him. Their tears flowed freely. A woman put her arm around Richard's shoulder as he stood numb. She whispered how sorry she was. "I wonder how many of you have shared the pain my brother and I live with every day. Please, those of you who have a loved one, or a friend, who has been hurt, or even killed, by fire, please, hold up your hands." Quite a few hands went up, and there was wailing from some in the crowd "There, my friends," he said hoarsely, spreading his arms wide, "there is the suffering among us. We need look no further than this room." Richard tried to swallow the lump in his throat as the memory of that horror came back to him. A man who had imagined their father had cheated him lost his temper and knocked a lamp off the table as Richard and his brother slept in the back bedroom. While the man dragged his father outside, beating him, his mother pulled Richard and his brother from the burning house, then ran back inside to save something, they never knew what, and was burned alive. Her screams brought the man to his senses, and he and their father tried to save her, but couldn't. Filled with guilt and revulsion at what he had caused, the man ran off crying and yelling that he was sorry. That, his father had told them a thousand times, was the result of a man losing his temper. Michael shrugged it off; Richard took it to heart. It had instilled in him a dread of his own anger, and whenever it threatened to come out, he choked it off. Michael was wrong. Fire had not killed their mother; anger had. Arms hanging limply at his side, head bowed, Michael spoke softly again. "What can we do about the danger to our families from fire?" He shook his head sadly. "I do not know, my friends. "But, I am forming a commission on the problem, and I urge any concerned citizen to come forward with suggestions. My door always stands open. Together we can do something. Together we will do something. "And now my friends, please excuse me, and allow me to go comfort my brother, as I am afraid bringing out our personal tragedy was a surprise to him, and I must ask his forgiveness." He hopped down off the stand, the crowd parting to let him through. A few hands reached out to touch him as he passed. He ignored them. Richard stood and glared as his brother strode to him. The crowd moved away. Only Kahlan stayed at his side, her fingers lightly touching his arm. People went back to the food and began talking excitedly among themselves, about themselves, and forgot him. Richard stood tall and choked off his anger Smiling, Michael slapped Richard on the shoulder. "Great speech!" he congratulated himself. "What did you think?" Richard looked down at the patterns on the marble floor. "Why did you bring her death into it? Why did you have to tell everyone about it? Why did you use her like that?" Michael put an arm around Richard's shoulder. "I know it hurts, and I am sorry, but it's for a greater good. Did you see the tears in their eyes? The things I've started are going to take us all to a better life, and help Westland grow to prominence. I believe what I said; we have to look to the challenge of the future with excitement, not fear." "And what did you mean about the boundaries?" "Things are changing, Richard. I have to stay ahead of them." The smile was gone. "That's all I meant. The boundaries won't last forever. I don't think they were ever meant to. We all have to be ready to face up to that." Richard changed the subject. "What have you found out about Father's murder? Have the trackers picked up anything?" Michael took his arm back. "Grow up, Richard. George was an old fool. He was always picking up things that didn't belong to him. He probably got caught with something that belonged to the wrong person. A person with a bad temper, and a big knife." "That's not true! And you know it!" Richard hated the way Michael called their father "George." "lie never stole anything in his life!" "Just because the person you take it from is long dead, that doesn't mean you have any right to it. Someone else obviously wanted it back." "How do you know all this?" Richard demanded. "What have you found out?" "Nothing! It's common sense. The house was torn apart! Someone was looking for something. They didn't find it, George wouldn't tell them where it was, they killed him. That's all there is to it. The trackers said there were no tracks. We'll probably never know who did it." Michael glared. "You had better learn to live with that fact." Richard let out a deep breath. It made sense; someone was looking for something. He shouldn't be angry with Michael be- cause he couldn't find out who. Michael had tried. Richard wondered how there could be no tracks. "I'm sorry. Maybe you're right, Michael." Another thought struck him. "So, it didn't have anything to do with this conspiracy? It wasn't those men trying to get to you?" Michael waved his hand. "No, no, no. It had nothing to do with that. That problem has been taken care of. Don't worry about me, I'm safe, everything is all right." Richard nodded. Michael's face turned to a look of annoyance. "So, little brother, how come you're such a mess? Couldn't you at least clean yourself up? It's not like you didn't have notice. You have known about this party for weeks." Before he could answer, Kahlan spoke up. Richard had forgotten she was still standing next to him. "Please forgive your brother, it was not his fault. He came to guide me into Hartland and I was late in coming. I pray he is not dishonored in your eyes because of me." Michael's eyes glided down the length of her before returning to her face. "And you are?" Her back stiffened as she stood tall. "I am Kahlan Amnell." Michael gave a slight smile and a small bow of his head. "So, you are not my brother's escort, as I thought. And where have you traveled from?" "It is a small place, far away. I am sure you would not know of it." Michael didn't challenge the answer, but turned to his brother instead. "You will stay the night?" "No. I have to go see Zedd. He's been looking for me." Michael's smile melted. "You should find better friends. No good can come of spending your time with that contrary old man." He turned back to Kahlan. "You, my dear, will be my guest tonight." "I have other arrangements," she said warily. Michael reached around her with both arms, cupped both hands to her bottom and pulled the lower half of her body hard against him. His leg pressed between her thighs. "Change them." His smile was as cold as a winter night. "Remove. Your. Hands." Her voice was hard and dangerous. Each stared into the other's eyes Richard was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what his brother was doing. "Michael! Stop it!" They both ignored him and continued to confront one another, faces close, eyes locked together. Richard stood next to them, feeling helpless. He could sense that both wanted him to stay out of it. His body tensed, muscles hard, ready to disregard the feeling. "You feel good," Michael whispered. "I think I could fall in love with you." Kahlan's breathing was slow and restrained. "You do not know the half of it." Her voice was even and controlled. "Now, remove your hands." When he did not, she slowly placed the fingernail of her first finger on his chest, just below the hollow at the base of his neck. As they glared at each other, she slowly, ever so slowly, began to drag her nail downward, ripping his flesh open. Blood ran down skin in rivulets. For a brief moment, Michael didn't move, but then his eyes could not disguise the pain. He flung open his arms and staggered back a step. Without looking back, Kahlan stormed out of the house. Richard gave his brother an angry glare he could not suppress, and followed her out.

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