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The white snake turned its big head to look at her, its red tongue flicking out. It was frightening seeing such a deadly creature up close.

Before it was too late, quick as a crack of lightning, Kahlan ignored her revulsion and snatched the white snake right behind its head. As she turned it and thrust it out, its mouth opened wide, exposing long fangs as sharp as needles.

Kahlan slammed the snake against Shota’s neck before she had time to react. The fangs instantly sank in deep, hitting the main vein. Even though it already had its fangs in, Kahlan held it there, pressing the head against the witch’s neck. She felt the snake’s powerful muscles flex as it worked its mouth to pump venom into the jugular vein.

The witch woman stumbled back with a shriek of shock and fear. The white snake had its fangs fastened in her neck and was pulled away from Kahlan’s grip as Shota staggered back. She grabbed at her throat, weakly trying to claw the snake away. As she did, it whipped coils of its white body around her arm and neck, preventing her from pulling it away from her.

There was no faster way for the venom to get to Shota’s heart than the vein in her neck. Because that was where the venom entered her bloodstream, it acted all that much faster than it otherwise would have. Her heart would circulate it quickly to her brain and through the rest of her.

Niska gasped in shock at seeing what had just happened. She stopped chanting and quickly stepped out of the way as Shota stumbled back, both hands fighting the thrashing white snake that had her by the throat. Without the chanted words, the circle of mist began to evaporate, losing its grip of sleepiness on Kahlan.

Shota collapsed with the snake’s fangs still sunk deep into her throat. She mumbled something in the delirium of the lethal venom pumping through her body. Her hands fell away from the snake even as it continued to flex and pump venom into her.

Shota gasped once, deep and desperate, and then the breath left her lungs with a sickening rattle. After that breath had gurgled out, she lay still and breathed no more.

Kahlan realized that the snakes that had been crawling all over her were gone. They had died out with the witch woman who had conjured them.

She stood stunned at how fast it had all happened. Grasping the relevance of the white snake, the near-instant crystallization of a plan, and the execution of that plan had all happened in a flash.

She blinked in surprise as Shale raced up and threw her arms around her.

“Mother Confessor! You understood! I was so hoping that you would realize that the white snake was mine.”

In gratitude and relief, Kahlan embraced her tightly for a moment.

“I remembered the white snakes from when you used them before, on the Glee.”

Shale pushed back and grinned at Kahlan. “That’s right. I was hoping you would remember. Shota’s power prevented me from using my gift against her—any magic used against her would only have reflected back to me. This was the only chance I could see to help you, so I had to take that chance while Shota was so focused on the snakes she had conjured. I knew she would have to watch what Niska was doing as well as make sure her snakes didn’t recklessly bite you, or the babies would die as well. I knew she wouldn’t want that to happen.”

Niska came close and put a hand on Kahlan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mother Confessor. I never wanted to be part of this. I would never have wanted to hurt you. Shota forced me to be part of her coven and do her bidding.”

Kahlan nodded, tears in her eyes with happiness for her twins. “I know.”

Kahlan circled an arm around Niska’s thin shoulders and pulled her tight in a quick hug to let her know that she understood and didn’t blame her.

42

The rest of the witch women all gathered around Kahlan, each of them briefly touching her in genuine sympathy as they explained how Shota had dragged them into her plans. They apologized for participating in the whole terrible ordeal. They all talked over each other, trying to explain that they had been living their own peaceful lives when Shota, as the grand witch, had summoned them with the magic of her oath and forced them to be part of her coven and thus her larger scheme.

One of the rather frightening-looking witch women, with one scarred, empty eye socket, a mangled nose, and no lips, approached. It took all of Kahlan’s strength not to recoil at the horror of her face. She touched Kahlan reverently.

“I have been persecuted my whole life for being a witch.” Her speech was halting and slurred because of her lack of lips, making it difficult to understand her.

The scar tissue where her lips had been cut off had thickened and tightened, pulling back from her gums and teeth, giving her a frightening look. The empty eye socket and the way her bared teeth grinned like those of a skull made it hard to look at her. She wet her teeth with her tongue before going on.

“I am named Yara. As you can plainly see,” the woman said, gesturing self-consciously at her face, “I have had vile things done to me by people who think my gift alone makes me evil. I hate that every day I must wear the scars of that hatred for all to see on my face.”

She choked up with emotion for a moment as a few tears ran down her cheek from her one eye. “But the one who was the most wicked of all was Shota, because she of all people should have known better. She knew what I had suffered, what I must live with for the rest of my life, and yet she used me anyway, used my face, to create fear in you. You have freed me, Mother Confessor. Thank you.”

With a tear still in her own eyes, Kahlan put an arm around her shoulder and gave her the same kind of hug she had given Niska. Kahlan understood all too well people who in the past had thought her evil because of her Confessor power.

She tapped the witch woman’s chest. “You keep your beauty in here, but I can see it.”

Another woman stepped forward to touch Kahlan’s arm. She was a lovely looking young woman, with unsettling birthmarks below each eye that made it look like blood was continually gushing from her eyes. While she was off-putting to look at, her gentle voice was the counter to the disturbing birthmarks.

“I am Thebe, Mother Confessor. All of us hope you can understand that none of this was our doing. We hold no ill will toward you and hope you can find it in your heart to hold none against us. We hope you can forgive us for taking part, even if it was against our will.”

“We were being used,” an older witch woman with long, wavy white hair said. She had a large wart on one side of her long nose. The tip of that nose drooped as if it were made of wax and she had let it get too close to a flame and it melted the end. “Shota used us much like the way she intended to use your two children, once they were born.”

“She lied at first,” another, very short witch woman said. She had wooden pegs for legs sticking out from beneath her tattered dress. “She had planned to kill you all along after you gave birth and keep your babies for herself. That is the most evil thing one woman could do to another, and to her children. She was using us as well, but what she was doing to you and the children you carry was much, much worse. I am so sorry for what almost happened.”

“None of us would ever think to harm anyone,” Yara said, as best she could without lips. “We have all been tormented by people for being born as witch women before anyone comes to know us for who we are. We simply want to be left alone to live our lives in peace.”

“But there were a few among us who had evil in their hearts,” Thebe said. “They were eager to participate in Shota’s grand scheme, eager to cause you pain. Those are the four who are now dead, as is Shota herself. I don’t think any of us ever dreamed that you would survive this plot, but we are truly thankful that you did.”