Soul of the Fire Read Free Page A

only by choice. Perhaps their shattered childhoods simply left them with an odd sense of humor they were now free to express.
    The Mord-Sith were fearless in protecting Richard—and by his orders, Kahlan—to the point of seeming to court death. They claimed to fear nothing more than dying in bed, old and toothless. Richard had vowed more than once to visit that fate upon them.
    Partly because of his deep empathy with these women, for their torturous training at the hands of his ancestors, Richard could rarely bring himself to reprimand their antics, and usually remained above their jabs. His restraint only encouraged them.
    The redness of this Lord Rahl’s red face when Cara said she was going to watch him take a bath betrayed his upbringing.
    Richard finally schooled his exasperation and rolled his eyes. “You’re not watching, either. You can just wait here.”
    Kahlan knew there was no chance of that. Cara barked a dismissive laugh as she followed them. She never gave a second thought to disregarding his direct orders if she thought they interfered with the protection of his life. Cara and her sister Mord-Sith only followed his orders if they judged them important and if they didn’t seem to put him at greater risk.
    Before they had gone far, they were joined by a half-dozen hunters who materialized out of the shadows and passageways around the spirit house. Sinewy and well proportioned, the tallest of them was not as tall as Kahlan. Richard towered over them. Their bare chests and legs were cloaked with long streaks and patches of mud for better concealment. Each carried a bow hooked over his shoulder, a knife at his hip, and a handful of throwing spears.
    Kahlan knew their quivers to be filled with arrows dipped in ten-step poison. These were Chandalen’s men; among the Mud People, only they routinely carried poison arrows. Chandalen’s men were not simply hunters, but protectors of the Mud People.
    They all grinned when Kahlan gently slapped their faces—the customary greeting of the Mud People, a gesture of respect for their strength. She thanked them in their language for standing watch and then translated her words to Richard and Cara.
    “ Did you know they were scattered about, guarding us?” Kahlan whispered to Richard as they started out once more.
    He stole a look back over his shoulder. “I only saw four of them. I have to admit I missed two.”
    There was no way he could have seen the two he missed—they had come from the far side of the spirit house. Kahlan hadn’t seen even one. She shuddered. The hunters seemed able to become invisible at will, though they were even better at it out on the grasslands. She was grateful for all those who silently watched over their safety.
    Cara told them Zedd and Ann were over on the southeast side of the village, so they stayed to the west as they walked south. With Cara and the hunters in tow, they skirted most of the open area where the villagers gathered, choosing instead the alleys between the mud-brick buildings plastered over with a tan clay.
    People smiled and waved in greeting, or patted their backs, or gave them the traditional gentle slaps of respect.
    Children ran among the legs of the adults, chasing small leather balls, each other, or invisible game. Occasionally, chickens were the not so invisible game. They scattered in fright before the laughing, leaping, grasping young hunters.
    Kahlan, with her cloak wrapped tight, couldn’t understand how the children, wearing so little, could stand the cold morning air. Almost all were at least bare-chested, the younger ones naked.
    Children were watched over, but allowed to run about at will. They were rarely called to account for anything. Their later training would be intense, difficult, strict, and they would be accountable for everything.
    The young children, still free to be children, were a constant, ever-present, and eager audience for anything out of the ordinary. To the Mud People children, like