The Third Kingdom

“We’re thankful to see you all safely back,” one of the waiting men said. “With you out after dark for so long, we were worried.”

Ester was nodding. “I know. It couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, we found them.”

Before Ester could introduce him, Henrik spotted them from the shelter of the shadows and ran out to greet them.

“Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl! You’re alive!”

Whispered astonishment swept back through the small assemblage of villagers. Apparently, not everyone in the village had been informed who the party had gone out to rescue.

“Lord Rahl … leader of the D’Haran Empire?” one man asked as whispers continued to spread among those gathered.

Through his pain, Richard nodded. “That’s right.”

They all started going to a knee. Richard hurriedly waved away the show of deference. “None of that, please.”

As they all hesitantly returned to their feet, Richard managed a smile for the boy. “Henrik, I’m relieved to see that you are all right.”

The man holding Kahlan eased her limp form down off his shoulder. Several people rushed in to help.

Ester quickly introduced a few of the people gathered around, but then cut it short. “We need to get them inside. They are both badly hurt. We need to see to their injuries.”

The small crowd, shadowed by several cats, followed behind as Ester hurriedly led them back into one of the broader tunnels. There were a number of rooms built into natural clefts and crags along the way back into the cavern. Many of the rooms and network of tunnels had been excavated from the semisoft rock. The faces of some of the rooms had mortared stone walls filling in the gaps. Some places had wooden doors while others were covered with animal skins to create what looked to be a community of small homes.

The honeycomb of dwellings throughout the warren of burrows looked like a grim existence, but Richard supposed that the safety of the place high up within the mountain was comfort enough. The clothes worn by the people around him also spoke to the austere nature of existence in their small village. They all wore similar types of crudely made fabric that blended in with the color of the stone.

Ester snatched the sleeve of a woman ahead of her and leaned closer. “Get Sammie.”

The woman frowned back over her shoulder. “Sammie?”

Ester confirmed it with a firm nod. “These two need to be healed.”

“Sammie?” the woman repeated.

“Yes, hurry. There is no time to waste.”

“But—”

“Go,” Ester commanded with a flick of her hand. “Hurry. I will take them to my place.”

As the woman rushed off to get the help Ester had called for, the crowd all funneled into a smaller passageway. Finally arriving at a doorway covered over with a heavy hanging made of sheepskin, Ester and several of the people with them ducked inside. Once inside the small room one of the men hurried to light dozens of candles. In contrast to the simple wooden table, three chairs, and chest to the side, crude but colorful carpets covered the floor. Pillows made of unadorned material similar to the material their clothes were made from provided the only other seating.

Ester directed the men carrying Kahlan to the side of the room, where they gently laid her down on a lambskin backed with a row of plain, well-used pillows. The men with Richard helped ease him down to sit on the floor against several pillows.

“We need to tend to your wounds right away,” Ester told Richard. She turned to some of the women who had followed them in. “Get some warm water and rags. We will need a poultice made up. Bring bandages as well as needle and thread.”

As the small cluster of the women hurried back out of the modest quarters to do her bidding, Ester knelt beside Richard. With a gentle hand she carefully lifted his arm and loosened the tourniquet so she could look under the blood-soaked bandage.

“I don’t like the color of your arm,” she said. “These bite wounds must be washed out. Some of them need to be stitched up.” She glanced up at his eyes. “You also need more talented help.”

Richard knew that she meant he needed a gifted person to heal him. He nodded as he leaned to the side, carefully pulling strands of hair back from Kahlan’s face so that he could press the inside of his wrist against her forehead. She felt feverish.

“I can wait,” he said. “I want you to take care of the Mother Confessor first.”

When he looked back at Ester, apprehension tightened her features. She was clearly worried that he was the one who needed the immediate help.

Richard softened his tone. “I’m grateful for all you and your people have done, but please, I want you to help my wife first. You’re right that my bite wounds need to be tended to, but she’s unconscious and obviously in worse trouble. Maybe my wounds could be sewn and bandaged while your gifted person sees to helping the Mother Confessor first. Please, I’m worried about her condition. I need to know that she will be all right.”