Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [152]
Kahlan spoke Richard’s name under her breath with a rising inflection and a cautionary tone. “These are important men. Please do not loosen their teeth.”
He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, and a mischievous smile.
“This is the Seeker, Richard With The Temper,” Savidlin said, proud of his charge. He leaned closer to the elders, his voice heavy with meaning. “Confessor Kahlan brought him to us. He is the one you spoke of, the one who brought the rains. She told me so.”
Kahlan began to worry; she didn’t know what Savidlin was talking about. The elders remained stone-faced, except Toffalar, who lifted an eyebrow.
“Strength to Richard With The Temper,” Toffalar said. He gave Richard a gentle slap.
“Strength to Toffalar,” he answered in his own language, having recognized his name, and immediately returned the slap.
Kahlan breathed out in relief that it was gentle. Savidlin beamed, showing his fat lip again. Toffalar at last smiled. After the others had given and received a greeting, they smiled, too.
And then they did something very odd.
The six elders and Savidlin each dropped to one knee and bowed their heads to Richard. Kahlan instantly tensed.
“What’s going on?” Richard asked out of the side of his mouth, alerted by her anxiety.
“I do not know,” she answered in a low voice. “Maybe it’s their way of greeting the Seeker. I have never seen them do this before.”
The men rose to their feet, all smiles. Toffalar held his hand up and motioned over their heads to the women.
“Please,” Toffalar said to the two of them, “sit with us. We are honored to have you both among us.”
Pulling Richard down with her, Kahlan sat cross-legged on the wet wooden floor. The elders waited until they were seated before seating themselves, paying no attention to the fact that Richard kept his hand near his sword. Women came with woven trays stacked high with loaves of round, flat tava bread and other food, offering them first to Toffalar and then the other elders, as they kept their eyes and smiles on Richard. They chatted softly among themselves about how big Richard With The Temper was, and what odd clothes he wore. They mostly ignored Kahlan.
Women in the Midlands tended not to like Confessors. They saw them as a menace who could take their men, and a threat to their lifestyle; women were not supposed to be independent. Kahlan disregarded their cool glances; she was more than used to them.
Toffalar took his bread and tore it into three sections, offering a third to Richard first and then a third to Kahlan. With a smile, another woman offered a bowl of roasted peppers to each. Kahlan and Richard both took one, and following the elder’s example, rolled them in the bread. She noticed just in time that Richard was keeping his right hand near his sword and was about to eat with his left.
“Richard!” she warned in a harsh whisper. “Don’t put food in your mouth with your left hand.”
He froze. “Why?”
“Because they believe that evil spirits eat with their left hand.”
“That’s foolish,” he said, an intolerant tone in his voice.
“Richard, please. They outnumber us. All their weapons are tipped with poison. This is a poor time for theological arguments.”
She could feel his gaze on her as she smiled at the elders. Out of the corner of her eye she saw with relief that he switched the food to his right hand.
“Please forgive our meager offering of food,” Toffalar said. “We will call a banquet for tonight.”
“No!” Kahlan blurted out. “I mean, we do not want to impose upon your people.”
“As you wish,” Toffalar said with a shrug, a little disappointed.
“We are here because the Mud People, among others, are in great danger.”
The elders all nodded and smiled. “Yes,” Surin spoke up. “But now that you have brought Richard With The Temper to us, all is well. We thank you, Confessor Kahlan,