Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [257]
“Rahl?” he asked her.
She studied different tumbled bodies from a distance. “No. This is not the way Rahl kills. This was a battle.”
“Looks more like a slaughter to me.”
She nodded her agreement. “Remember the dead among the Mud People? That is what it looks like when Rahl kills. It is always the same. This is different.”
They walked along through the town, staying close to the buildings, away from the center of the street, occasionally having to step over the gore. Every shop was looted, and what wasn’t carried off was destroyed. From one shop, a bolt of pale blue cloth, with evenly spaced dark stains, had unwound itself across the road, as if it had been thrown out because its owner had ruined it in death. Kahlan pulled his sleeve, and pointed. On the wall of a building was written a message—in blood. DEATH TO ALL WHO RESIST THE WESTLAND.
“What do you suppose that means?” she whispered, as if the dead might hear her.
He stared at the dripping words. “I can’t even imagine.” He started off again, turning back twice to frown at the words on the wall.
Richard’s eye was caught by a cart sitting in front of a grain store. The cart was half loaded with small furniture and clothes, the wind whipping at the sleeves of little dresses. He exchanged a glance with Kahlan. Someone was left alive, and it looked as if they were preparing to leave.
He stepped carefully through the empty doorframe of the grain store, Kahlan close at his back. Streamers of sunlight coming through the door and window sent shafts through the dust inside the building, falling on spilled sacks of grain and broken barrels. Richard stood just inside the doorway, to one side, with Kahlan to the other, until his eyes adjusted to the dark. There were fresh footprints, mostly small ones, through the dust. His eyes followed them behind a counter. He gripped the hilt of his sword, but didn’t draw it, and went to the counter. People cowered behind, trembling.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a gentle voice, “come out.”
“Are you a soldier with the People’s Peace Army, here to help us?” came a woman’s voice from behind the counter.
Richard and Kahlan frowned at each other. “No,” she said. “We are… just travelers, passing through.”
A woman with a dirty, tearstained face and short, dark, matted hair pushed her head up. Her drab brown dress was ragged and torn. Richard took his hand away from his sword so as not to frighten her. Her lip quivered, and her hollow eyes blinked at them in the dim light as she motioned others to come out. There were six children—five girls and one boy—another woman, and an old man. Once they were out, the children clinging woodenly to the two women, the three adults glanced at Richard, then stared openly at Kahlan. Their eyes went wide, and they all shrank back as one against the wall. Richard frowned in confusion; then he realized what they were staring at. Her hair.
The three adults collapsed to their knees, heads bowed, each with their eyes to the floor; the children buried their faces silently in the women’s skirts. With a sideways glance at Richard, Kahlan quickly motioned with her hands for them to get up. They had their eyes fixed on the floor and couldn’t see her frantic gesturing.
“Get up,” she said, “there is no need for that. Get up.”
Their heads came up, confused. They looked at her hands, urging them to get to their feet. With great reluctance, they complied.
“By your command, Mother Confessor,” one woman said in a shaking voice. “Forgive us, Mother Confessor, we… did not recognize you… by your clothes, at first. Forgive us, we are only humble people. Forgive us for…”
Kahlan gently cut her off. “What is your name.”
The woman bowed deeply from the waist, remaining bent. “I am Regina Clark, Mother Confessor.”
Kahlan grabbed her by her shoulders and straightened her. “Regina, what has happened here?”
Regina’s eyes filled with tears, and she cast a shrinking glance toward Richard as her lip trembled. Kahlan looked back to him.
“Richard,” she said softly, “why don’t you take the old man and the children outside?