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Kahlan and Richard sat in silence in the empty, dark room, waiting. She picked at the heel of her boot, trying not to think about what it was she had committed herself to, yet unable to think of anything else.

Richard would be unarmed, without his sword, his protection. But she would not be without her power. She would be his protection. Though she had not spoken it, that was the other reason she had to be in there. If anything went wrong, it was going to be she who died, not him, that much she knew. She would see to it. She steeled herself, went into herself. She heard the Bird Man call out Richard’s name. He rose to his feet.

“Let’s hope this works. If it doesn’t, we’re in a lot of trouble. I’m glad I’ll have you there.” It was a warning, to stay alert.

She nodded. “Just remember, Richard, these are our people now, we belong. They want to help us; they will be doing their best.”

Kahlan sat hugging her knees, waiting, until her name was called, then went out into the cool, dark night. The Bird Man sat against the wall of the spirit house, on the little bench. She could see in the dark that he was naked, symbols painted in jagged lines, stripes and whorls all over his body, his silver hair down around his bare shoulders. Chickens roosted on a short wall nearby, watching. A hunter stood near the Bird Man. Coyote hides, clothes, and Richard’s sword lay at his feet.

“Remove your clothes,” the Bird Man said.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing at the hunter.

“He is here to take the clothes. They are taken to the elders’ platform, for the people to see that we are in a gathering. Before dawn, he will return them, to let the people know that the gathering is at an end.”

“Well, tell him to turn around.”

The Bird Man gave the order. The hunter turned around. She gripped the tongue of her belt, yanked it free from the catch. She paused, looking down at the Bird Man.

“Child,” he said softly, “tonight you are neither man nor woman. You are a Mud Person. Tonight, I am neither man nor woman. I am a spirit guide.”

She nodded, removed her clothes, and stood before him, the cold night air on her naked flesh. He scooped a handful of white mud from one of the pots. His hand paused before her. She waited. He was clearly skittish about doing this, despite what he said. Seeing was one thing, touching quite another.

Kahlan reached out, took his hand, and pulled it firmly against her belly, feeling the cold mud squish against her.

“Do it,” she ordered.

When finished, they pulled the door open and went inside, he sitting among the circle of painted elders, she opposite him, next to Richard. Black and white lines swept diagonally across Richard’s face in dramatic tangles, a mask they all wore for the spirits. The skulls that had sat on the shelf were arranged in the center of the circle. A small fire burned slowly in the fireplace behind her, giving off an odd, acrid smell. The elders stared fixedly ahead as they rhythmically chanted words she couldn’t understand. The Bird Man’s far-off eyes came up. The door closed of its own accord.

“From now, until we are finished, near dawn, no one may go out, no one may come in. The door is barred by the spirits.”

Kahlan’s eyes swept the room, but saw nothing. A shiver ran up her spine. The Bird Man took a woven basket sitting near him and reached inside. He pulled out a small frog, then passed the basket to the next elder. Each took a frog and began rubbing its back against the skin of his chest. When the basket reached her, she held it between her hands and looked up at the Bird Man.

“Why do we do this?”

“These are red spirit frogs, very hard to find. They have a substance on their backs that makes us forget this world, and allows us to see the spirits.”

“Honored elder, I may be one of the Mud People, but I am also a Confessor. I must always hold back my power. If I forget this world, I may not be able to do that.”

“It is too late to back out now. The spirits are with us. They have seen you, seen the symbols on you that open