Savidlin was livid, but he did not move. The elder, a slight smile on his pinched lips, turned back to Richard.

“Now that your tricks have failed,” he said with disdain “would you think to harm our people, Richard With The Temper?” It was a taunt, aimed to discredit Richard.

Richard looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him. His glare turned briefly to the Bird Man, then back to the six under the shelter. She held her breath. The crowd was dead quiet. He turned slowly to them.

“I will not harm your people,” he said in an even voice. There was a collective sigh of relief when Kahlan spoke his words. When it was quiet again, he went on. “But I will mourn for what is going to happen to them.” Without turning back to the elders, his arm slowly lifted as he pointed to them. “For you six, I will not mourn. I do not mourn the death of fools.” His words came out like poison. The crowd gasped.

Toffalar’s face twisted into bitter rage. Whispers and fear spread through the onlookers. Kahlan glanced over to the Bird Man. He seemed to have aged years. She could see in his heavy brown eyes how sorry he was. For a moment their eyes locked and they shared the grief of what they both knew was going to sweep over all their lives—then his gaze sank to the ground.

In a sudden flash of movement, Richard spun toward the elders, pulling free the Sword of Truth. It was so fast almost everyone, including the elders, flinched back a step in shock and then froze in place, the six faces reflecting the fear that kept them paralyzed. The crowd began creeping back—the Bird Man had not moved. Kahlan feared Richard’s anger, and understood it, too. She decided not to interfere, but to do what was necessary to protect the Seeker, whatever he did next. Not even a whisper was uttered—the only sound in the dead silence was the distinctive ringing of steel. With his teeth gritted, Richard pointed the glinting sword at the elders, its tip inches from their faces.

“Have the courage to do one last thing for your people.” Richard’s tone sent a chill through her. Kahlan translated out of reflex, too transfixed to do anything else. Then, unbelievably, he turned the sword around, holding it by the point, holding the hilt out to the elders. “Take my sword,” he commanded. “Use it to kill the women and children. It will be more merciful than what Darken Rahl will do to them. Have the courage to spare them the torture they will suffer. Give them the charity of a quick death.” His countenance withered their expressions.

Kahlan could hear women starting to cry softly as they clutched their children. The elders, in the grip of a terror they hadn’t expected, did not move. At last their eyes fled from Richard’s glare. When it was clear to all they did not have the courage to take the sword, Richard painstakingly slid it back into its scabbard, as if slowly extinguishing their last chance at salvation—an unequivocal gesture that the elders had forfeited forever the aid of the Seeker. The finality of it was frightening.

Then at last he broke his hot glare at them and turned to her, his face changing. When she saw the look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. It was a look of heartache for a people he had come to love, but could not help. All eyes stayed on him as he closed the distance between them and took her gently by the arm.

“Let’s collect our things and get moving,” he said softly. “We’ve wasted a lot of time. I only hope it wasn’t too much.” His gray eyes were wet. “I’m sorry, Kahlan… that I chose wrong.”

“You did not choose wrong, Richard—they did.” Her anger at the elders had a finality to it, too, a door closing on any hope for these people. She cut off her concern for them—they were the walking dead. They had been offered a chance, and had chosen their own fate.

When they passed Savidlin, the two men locked arms for a moment without looking at each other. No one else made a move to leave—they stayed and watched the two outsiders walk quickly among them. As they passed, a few reached out and touched Richard, he returning the wordless sympathy with a squeeze of his hand on their arms, unable to bear meeting their eyes.

They gathered up their things from Savidlin’s house, stuffing their cloaks into the packs. Neither spoke. Kahlan felt empty, drained. When their eyes met at last, they suddenly came together in a wordless embrace, a shared grief for their new friends, for what they both knew would happen to them. They had gambled with the only thing they had—time. And lost.

When they separated, Kahlan put the last of her things in the pack and closed the flap. Richard pulled his cloak back out. She watched as he pushed his hand inside and rummaged around, an urgency to his search. He went to the doorway for light, and looked inside as he moved items roughly about. The arm holding the pack lowered and his face came up to hers, alarm in his expression.

“The night stone is gone.”

The way he said it frightened her. “Maybe you left it out somewhere…”

“No. I never took it out of my pack. Never.”

Kahlan didn’t understand why he seemed so panicked about it. “Richard, we don’t need it now, we are through the pass. I’m sure Adie will forgive its loss. We have more important things to worry about.”

He took a step closer to her. “You don’t understand. We have to find it.”

“Why?” she frowned.

“Because I think that thing can wake the dead.” Her mouth fell open. “Kahlan, I’ve been thinking about it. Do you remember how nervous Adie was when she gave it to me, how she kept looking around until it was put away? And when did the shadow things in the pass start coming for us? After I took it out. Remember?”

Her eyes were wide. “But, even if someone else used it, she said it would only work for you.”

“She was talking about it giving off light. She said nothing about waking the dead. I can’t believe Adie wouldn’t warn us.”

Kahlan looked away, thinking. Her eyes closed as a wave of realization swept over her. “Yes, she did, Richard. She warned you with a sorceress’s riddle. I’m sorry, I never gave it a thought. That is the way of a sorceress. She will not always come right out with what she knows, with a warning. She will sometimes put it in the form of a riddle.”

Richard turned to the door, glaring out. “I can’t believe it. The world is being sucked into oblivion, and that old woman gives us riddles.” He pounded his fist against the doorframe. “She should have told us!”

“Richard, maybe she had a reason, maybe it was the only way.”

He stared out the door, thinking. “If you have need enough. That’s what she said. Like water. It is valuable only under the right conditions, that to a drowning man it is of little worth and great trouble. That was how she was trying to warn us. Great trouble.” He turned back to the room, picking up the pack again, taking another look inside. “It was here last night, I saw it. What could have happened to it?” Together they looked up, their eyes meeting. “Siddin,” they both said at once.