Soul of the Fire

Her instinct was to lash out and touch the vile thing with her Confessor's power. Her magic destroyed forever the essence of a person, creating in the void a total and unqualified devotion to the Confessor. In that way, those condemned to death truthfully confessed their heinous crimes-or their innocence. It was an ultimate means of witnessing the veracity of justice.

There was no immunity to the touch of a Confessor. It was as absolute as it was final. Even the most, maniacal murderer had a soul and so was vulnerable.

Her power, her magic, was also a weapon of defense. But it would only work on people. It would not work on a chicken. And it would not work on wickedness incarnate.

Her gaze flicked toward the door, checking the distance. The chicken took a single hop toward her. Claws gripping Juni's upper arm, it leaned her way. Her leg muscles tightened till they trembled.

The chicken backed a step, tensed, and spurted feces onto Juni's face.

It let out the cackle that sounded like a laugh.

She dearly wished she could tell herself she was being silly. Imagining things.

But she knew better.

Much as her power would not work to destroy this thing, she sensed, too, that her ostensible size and strength were meaningless against it. Far better, she thought, just to get out.

More than anything, that was what she wanted: out.

A fat brown bug scurried up her arm. She let out a clipped cry as she smacked it off. She shuffled a step toward the door.

The chicken leaped off Juni, landing before the door.

Kahlan frantically tried to think as the chicken bawk-bawk-bawked. It pecked up the bug she had flicked off her arm. After downing the bug, it turned to look up at her, its head cocking this way, then that, its wattles swinging.

Kahlan eyed the door. She tried to reason how best to get out. Kick the chicken out of the way? Try to frighten it away from the door? Ignore it and try to walk past it?

She remembered what Richard said. "Juni spat at the honor of whatever killed that chicken. Not long after, Juni died. I threw a stick at the chicken in the window, and not long after, it attacked that little boy. It was my fault Ungi got clawed. I don't want to make the same mistake again."

She didn't want to make that mistake. This thing could fly at her face. Scratch her eyes out. Use its spur to tear open the carotid artery at the side of her neck. Bleed her to death. Who knew how strong it really was, what it.might be able to do.

Richard had been adamant about everyone being courteous to the chickens. Suddenly Kahlan's life or death hung on Richard's words. Only a short time before she had thought them foolish. Now, she was weighing her chances, marking her choices, by what Richard had said.

"Oh, Richard," she implored in a whisper, "forgive me."

She felt something on her toes. A quick glance was not enough in the dim light to see for sure, but she thought she saw bugs crawling over her feet. She felt one scurry up her ankle, up under her pant leg. She stamped her foot. The bug clung tight.

She bent to swat at the thing under her pant leg. She wanted it off. She smacked too hard, squashing it against her shin.

She straightened in a rush to swipe at things crawling in her hair. She yelped — when a centipede bit the back of her hand. She shook it off. As it hit the floor, the chicken plucked it up and ate it.

With a flap of wings, the chicken suddenly sprang back up on top of Juni. Claws working with luxuriant excess, it turned slowly atop the body to peer at her. One black eye watched with icy interest. Kahlan slipped one foot toward the door.

"Mother," the chicken croaked.

Kahlan flinched with a cry.

She tried to slow her breathing. Her heart hammered so hard it felt like her neck must be bulging. Flesh scraped from her fingers as they gripped at the rough platform behind.

It must have made a sound that sounded like the word "Mother." She was the Mother Confessor, and was used to hearing the word "Mother." She was simply frightened and had imagined it.

She yelped again when something bit her ankle. Flailing at a bug running under her shirtsleeve, she accidentally swatted the candle off the platform behind her. It hit the dirt floor with a clink.

In an instant, the room fell pitch black.

She spun around, scraping madly at something wriggling up between her shoulder blades, under her hair. By the weight, and the squeak, it had to be a mouse. Mercifully, as she twisted and whirled about, it was flung off.

Kahlan froze. She tried to hear if the chicken had moved, if it had jumped to the floor. The room was dead silent except for the rapid whooshing of her heart in her ears.

She began shuffling toward the door. As she scuffed through the fetid straw, she dearly wished she had worn her boots. The stench was gagging. She didn't think she would ever feel clean again. She didn't care, though, if she could just get out alive.

In the dark, the chicken thing let out a low chicken cackle laugh.