“So you have been healing me?”
“We all worked on you,” Rita confirmed. “You were seriously hurt.”
She lifted the stack of aum leaves off his forehead, to the side, to have a look. She turned briefly to allow the others to have a look at the wound on his head. They all seemed pleased. Rita laid the moist aum back down, patting it gently into place so it would be in contact with the wound.
He realized, then, that there were poultices in several places on his legs and a big patch of aum on the left side of his ribs. It was a pale yellow, similar to the poultice Zedd used to make, but it had a different smell.
“You’re lucky to have been injured here, in Bindamoon,” Rita said. “We grow some of the rarest herbs here, herbs very helpful for healing. Because of the herbs we have, people come to Bindamoon to be healed. Some we can help, some we cannot.”
“Aum is hard to find back where I come from,” he said. “You mean you actually grow it?”
Her brow lifted in surprise. “You know of aum?”
Richard nodded. “My grandfather taught me about it, and how to find it.”
“Well, no trouble finding it here,” she said with a smile. “It’s a valuable medicinal plant, so we grow rows of it.” She turned a little and pointed. “We use fresh when we can, and we tie the plants up by their stems and hang them up in drying sheds, over there, until they are cured for when it is out of season. We trade most of it to help support our town and use some of it for people who come here to be healed. You are in one of our healing houses where we tend to people.”
Richard looked around and saw a variety of jars and canisters, along with a number of washbasins as well as a half-dozen lanterns on a well-worn, heavy wooden table supplementing the light from the small window. There were shelves under the cabinets with smaller bottles neatly lined up.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked.
She let out a concerned sigh. “You were brought here two nights ago. Because of your injuries, we had to give you some things to keep you asleep. With so many wounds we feared infection. Some of the herbs we use work better when the person is sleeping. The medicated sleep helped you get over the worst of your injuries. They are now all nicely on the mend. Especially your nasty head wound. We couldn’t be sure everything inside was all right until you woke, but we can now see that your eyes are clear and you don’t appear dizzy.”
“I truly appreciate your help,” Richard told her. “But I really need to search for the Mother Confessor. She was—”
“I’m afraid she’s gone,” Vika told him. “The people told me that all the witches left with her.”
Richard blinked. “Left with her?”
“On horses,” Vika confirmed.
Richard looked up at Rita. “You have horses here?”
She gestured with gnarled fingers. “Over on this side of the road, opposite from where the palace once stood, there are stables—the queen’s stables. The witch women all left and took the Mother Confessor with them.”
Richard sat up in a rush, holding the towel over himself. “She’s alive then?”
“Yes,” Cassia said. “But we learned that they left with her that first night.”
Richard put a hand to his head, trying to calculate how long it had been since he and Shota had their battle. “How long ago? How long have I been asleep, or unconscious … how long have they been gone?”
The Mord-Sith shared sidelong glances.
Vika’s expression revealed her worry. “Quite a while, now, I’m afraid.”
Richard stood, still holding the small towel in front of himself. “How long is ‘quite a while’?”
“Altogether it’s been over five days since they left,” Vika said.
28
He turned to Rita. “Are there more horses in the ‘queen’s’ stables?”
She nodded. “Quite a few, but they belong to the queen. She never allows anyone in Bindamoon to use them. The people here must care for them for her. The man called Iron Jack saw to it that the queen’s orders were carried out and no one from town was ever caught riding them. He was very cruel in that task, as well as others.”
“Well, no one need fear Iron Jack any longer.”
She leaned in. “Oh? I have heard rumors that say he was killed by demons. Are the stories true?”
“The man is dead, that much is true,” Richard said as he held the towel over himself. “He can never hurt any of you again.”
“This is wonderful news,” one of the other women said. Several of the others nodded their agreement.
Richard gestured with an arm. “Out. Everyone out. I need to get dressed. I must get to the Mother Confessor.”
The healers glanced at one another with renewed concern.
“I don’t know if that is such a good idea just yet,” Rita said as she held up a cautionary finger. “It would be best if you rested for a few more days in order—”
“There are vastly more critical things than me getting more rest. I’ve been sleeping for days. Believe me, I am plenty rested. Now, please, all of you, out, so I can get dressed.”
The healers grudgingly gave in and filed out, looking back over their shoulders with concerned looks as they left. They closed the wooden door behind themselves. The Mord-Sith stood at ease and showed no indication that they thought the orders included them as well.
“You too,” Richard told them with a swish of his hand. “All of you, please wait outside.”
Berdine grinned. “Lord Rahl, that is rather pointless now. I mean, after all of us helped—”
“Out!” Richard could feel his face going red again. He briefly wondered if there was a way his gift could prevent that from happening. If there was, he wanted to learn the trick.
The Mord-Sith all let out deep sighs, as if he was just being silly, but to his relief they finally left him to get dressed alone, closing the door on their way out.
Richard found all of his clothes washed and neatly folded on a chair. His sword hung off one side of the back. His pack, bow, and quiver hung off the other side. His mind raced as he hastily got dressed. He needed to get to Kahlan, but Shota and her coven had quite a head start. He knew, though, that Kahlan would be doing what she could to slow them down, hoping that he would catch up—hoping, too, no doubt, that he was still alive.
Finally dressed in his freshly cleaned clothes, his sword at his hip, and his pack and bow each hanging over a shoulder, he pulled open the door.
He was not prepared for what greeted him outside.
The healing house stood at the edge of the town on the opposite side of the pass road from the palace. The hillside before him gently descended down toward the western wall below where he stood outside the stone building. The entire hillside was packed with people, all silently staring up at him. It looked to him like the whole town was assembled there.
The healers were off to his right, keeping watch, presumably in case he succumbed to his wounds and collapsed. The six Mord-Sith were there waiting for him just outside the door. Once he stepped out, they took up places beside him, with three to either side. Vika took her place immediately to his right, signifying that she was his lead protection.
The people looking up at him stared in silence. He had no idea what was going on, but he was pretty sure that they had never seen a Lord Rahl before, so he thought that maybe that was it.
Richard recognized Toby, but not the two big men in leather vests beside him. When Toby saw that Richard was looking at him, he glanced around, then took a few steps forward. He swiped the flat hat off his head and held the hat in both hands, nervously turning it around and around.
“Toby,” Richard said, “I want to thank you and all the others who helped get me out from where I was trapped. You people saved my life. I am indebted to you all. I will never forget all you and the healers have done for me.”