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The last thing a Confessor needed while recovering her power was food。 It diverted her energy to the food instead of returning her strength。 She had to think of a way out of eating the bowl of stew or it would end up on the ground； to the embarrassment of all。
Thankfully； she reached the wagons before she had to take another mouthful。 She asked Lieutenant Hobson to get Chandalen and the two brothers； and bring them to her。
After he left； she set the bowl down on the splinter bar of the dray with the casks of ale and climbed up。
She motioned Captain Ryan up on the wagon as she counted。 ‘Get some men。 Unload the top rows so we can get at them all。 Right the casks on the bottom row； and withdraw the plugs。’ As he motioned for men to help with the task； she asked； ‘Did Chandalen have you all make a troga？’
A troga was a simple； stout piece of cord or a wire with a wooden handle on each end； and long enough so that when it was given a twist； it made a loop that was the right size to drop over a man’s head。 It was applied from behind； and then the handles yanked apart。 If it was made of wire； placed correctly at the neck joints； and the man wielding it had arms big enough； his troga could decapitate a person before the victim had a chance to make a sound。 Even if it wasn’t wire； or his arms were not that strong； the victim still made no sound before he died。
Captain Ryan reached behind his back； under his coat； and retrieved a wire troga； holding it up for her to see。 ‘He gave us a little demonstration。 He was gentle； but I’m still glad I wasn’t the one he demonstrated on。 He says he and Prindin and Tossidin will use these to take the sentries and lookouts。 I don’t think he believes we can sneak up on them like he can。 But many of us have spent a lot of time hunting； and we’re more clever 。。。’
Captain Ryan leapt with a yelp。 Chandalen had poked him in the ribs； having e up unseen behind him。 The captain forted his ribs and scowled at a smiling Chandalen。 Prindin and his brother climbed up to help unload the barrels。
‘You wish something； Mother Confessor？’ Chandalen asked。
Kahlan held her hand out。 ‘Give me your bandu。 Your ten…step poison。’
His brow wrinkled into a scowl； but he reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out the bone box； leaning over to hand it to her。 The brothers fished out their boxes； too； and handed them to her。
‘How much will I be able to poison with it？ How many casks can I make poison？’
Chandalen stepped around Captain Ryan； balancing atop the sides of the round barrels。 ‘You are going to put it in this drink？’ Kahlan nodded。 ‘But then we won’t have any more。 We must have it with us。 We may need it。’
‘I’ll leave a bit for emergencies。 Every one we can kill in this way is one less to fight。’
‘But they might discover it’s poison；’ Captain Ryan said。 Then we won’t even have them drunk。’
They have dogs；’ Kahlan said。 That’s why I want to send them food； too。 They will throw the dogs some of the meat； to make sure it’s good。 I’m hoping they will be put at ease after testing the food on the dogs； and anxious enough for the ale that the idea of it being poisoned won’t e into their heads。’
Chandalen counted the barrels silently； and then straightened。 There are thirty…six。 Twelve for each of our bandu。’ He scratched his head of black hair while he pondered。 ‘It will not kill them； unless they drink much； but it will make them sick。’
‘How sick？ What will it do？’
‘It will make them weak。 They will be sick in their stomachs。 Their heads will spin inside。 Maybe； some will die in a hand of days from the poison sickness。’
Kahlan nodded。 ‘It will be a great help。’
‘But this is hardly enough for all their men；’ Captain Ryan said。 ‘Only some will drink this。’
‘Some will go to the unit who plundered it； and the rest will be divided among the men of rank first； with what’s left going to the soldiers。 The men of rank are the ones I’m after。’
All the top rows were unloaded； leaving only the bottom row； which the men stood up so the plugs could be removed。
‘Why are six of these barrels smaller？’
They’re rum；’ the captain said。
‘Rum？ The drink of nobility？’ Kahlan smiled。 The manders will take the rum first。’ She straightened from peering into one of the open casks。 ‘Chandalen； will they be able to taste it？ Will the taste give them warning； if I put more in some？’
He dipped a finger in a cask of rum； and sucked it clean。 ‘No。 This is bitter enough。 Bitter things hide the taste of bandu。’
Kahlan used her knife point to divide the poison from Chandalen’s box into sixths。 She swished each sixth off her knife point into the round opening in one of the smaller casks … those with the rum。
Chandalen watched what she was doing。 That much； in the smaller barrels； will probably kill them by morning； the next day for sure。 But now you have none for the other six。’
Kahlan handed Chandalen back his bone box with a little of the bandu left in the ers and climbed down from the dray。 ‘Six of the casks of ale will have no poison so that we can be sure the rum will kill those who drink it。’ She put a knife point laden with poison from Tossidin’s box into each of the next twelve。 ‘Mix all the barrels up。 I don’t want the rum on the bottom。 The manders might not see it and take the ale instead。’
Kahlan went to the last twelve and opened Prindin’s box。 She looked up。 ‘You don’t have very much。 What have you done with yours？’
Prindin looked as though he wished she hadn’t asked that question。 He gestured vaguely。 ‘When we left； I was not thinking so good。 You were in a hurry； and so I forgot to see that my bandu box was full。’
Chandalen put his fists on his hips and glared down from atop the wagon。 ‘Prindin； how many times have I said that you would forget to take your feet could you walk away without them？’
‘It doesn’t matter；’ Kahlan said。 Prindin looked relieved to have her interrupt Chandalen’s questioning。 ‘This will make them sick