The fact that they saw nothing began to worry Richard. There were no squirrels, no chipmunks, no
birds, no animals of any kind. It was too quiet. Daylight was slipping away. Soon they would be at
the Narrows. He worried about that, too. The idea of seeing the things from the boundary again was
frightening. The idea of seeing his father again was terrifying. His insides cringed at what Adie had
told them, that those in the boundary, would call to them. He remembered how seductive their calls
were. He had to be prepared to resist. He had to harden himself against it. Kahlan had almost been
pulled back into the underworld when they were in the wayward pine, the first night he knew her.
When they were with Zedd and Chase, something had tried to pull her in again. He was troubled
that the bone might not protect her when they were that close.
Kahlan looked around at the woods, turned to check behind. She stopped suddenly, grabbing his
arm. In the trail, not ten yards behind, stood a shadow.
"Kahlan, do you remember when you told me of the shadow people that Panis Rahl sent forth?
Could those be shadow people?"
"Maybe it's because of the bones. Maybe they know we're here, but can't find us, so they stay still
to search."
Pine needles held droplets from the rains and mist, and when a light breeze swayed the branches,
water from the trees above rained down. In the near darkness they had a hard time telling if there
were shadow things around them or if it was just the dark shapes of tree trunks. Twice, they had no
trouble telling; they were close to the trail and there was no doubt what they were. Still the shadows
did not follow or move, but stood as if watching, even though they had no eyes
Her grip on his arm was becoming painful, so he pried her fingers off and put her hand in his. She
gave his hand a squeeze. "Sorry," she said with a self-conscious smile.
"What makes you so sure?"
She seemed satisfied with the answer-he wished he were. The forest was dead quiet, except for a
soft rasp he couldn't quite figure out. There were none of the usual night sounds. Dark branches
swayed near them with the breeze, making his heart race.
He gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance.
The woods were getting darker. Tree trunks stood like black pillars in the murk. Richard felt as if
there were eyes everywhere, watching. The trail was beginning to traverse a hillside, and he could
see dark rocks rising up to their left. Runoff from the rains trickled through the rock. He could hear
it bubbling and dripping and splashing. The ground dropped away on the right. The next time they
looked back, there were three shadows, barely visible in the path behind. The two of them kept
moving. Richard heard the soft scraping sound again, off in the woods to either side. It wasn't a
sound he was familiar with. He could feel, more than see, that there were shadow things on each
side and behind them. A few were close enough to the trail that there was no doubt what they were.
The only way that was clear was ahead.
Richard hesitated. "I don't want to until we absolutely need it. I'm afraid of what might happen."
"Well, those shadows haven't come for us yet. Maybe because they can't see us, because of the
bones." He paused a moment. "But what if they can see the light from the night stone?"
Two shadows stood ahead, close, the trail between them. Kahlan pressed tight against him and held
her breath as they squeezed past. She buried her face against his shoulder when they were even
with the shadow things. Richard put his arm around her, holding her tight. He knew how she felt.
He was terrified, too. His heart pounded. It seemed they were going too far with each step, getting
in too deep. He looked behind, but in the darkness there was not enough light to see if the shadows
were standing on the trail.
The Narrows.
Warm light flared into the night, lighting the woods around, casting eerie shadows. He held the
stone out, to see better.
In the warm yellowish illumination, they could see a wall of the shadow things, hundreds of them,
not an inch between any two. They formed a half circle less than twenty feet away. On the ground
were dozens and dozens of hump-shaped creatures, almost looking like rocks at first. But they
weren't rocks. Gray armor bands interlocked across their backs, jagged spikes poked out around the
bottom edge.
That was what the sound was, their claws on the rocks. The grippers were moving with an odd,
waddling gait, their humped bodies swaying from side to side as they struggled forward. Not fast,
but steady. Some were only a few feet away.
Kahlan stood frozen, her back against the boulder, her eyes wide. Richard reached across the split,
grabbed a fistful of her shirt and pulled her into the opening. The walls were wet and slick. The
tightness of the space made him feel as if his heart were coming up in his throat. He didn't like tight
places. They backed through, turning occasionally to check their way. He held the night stone out,
lighting the shadow things as they came. Grippers crawled into the split.
Richard kicked one that got too close, sending it tumbling through the leaves and sticks on the floor
of the split. Landing on its back, it clawed at the air, snapping and hissing, twisting and rocking,
until it righted itself. When it did, the gripper rose up on its claw-tipped feet and let out a clicking
growl before coming on once again.
Kahlan drew a sharp breath.
The Narrows trail had been swept away.
Green light of the boundary came on, surprising them. They stepped back as one.
Kahlan clutched his arm. The grippers were at their heels. The shadows floated in the split
Staff positions were filled from the surrounding D'Haran countryside. Being a member of the crypt
staff was an honor, by law. The honor brought with it the promise of a quick death if an execution
was in order. A slow death in D'Hara was greatly feared, and common. New recruits, for fear they
would speak ill of the dead king while in the crypt, had their tongues cut out.
A short pillar in the center of the immense room supported the coffin itself, giving it the effect of
floating in the air. The golden shrouded coffin glowed in the torchlight. Carved symbols covered its
sides, and continued in a ring around the room, cut into the granite beneath the torches and gold
vases: instructions in an ancient language from a father to a son on the process of going to the
underworld, and returning. Instructions in an ancient language understood by only a handful other
than the son; none but the son lived in D'Hara. All the others in D'Hara who understood had long
ago been put to death. Someday, the rest would be.
Darken Rahl ran his delicate fingers over the carved symbols on his father's tomb. An immaculate
white robe, its only decoration gold embroidery in a narrow band around the neck and down the
front, covered his lean frame to within an inch of the floor. He wore no jewelry, other than a curved
knife in a gold scabbard embossed with symbols warning the spirits to give way. The belt that held
it was woven of gold wire. Fine, straight, blond hair hung almost to his shoulders. His eyes were a
pain- fully handsome shade of blue. His features set off his eyes perfectly.
Darken Rahl, as had his father before him, considered women merely vessels for the man's seed,
the dirt it grew in, unworthy of higher recognition. Darken Rahl, as his father before him, would
have no wife. His own mother had been nothing more than the first to sprout his father's wondrous
seed, and then she had been discarded, as was only fitting. If he had siblings, he didn't know, nor
did it matter; he was firstborn, all glory fell to him. He was the one born with the gift, and the one
to whom his father passed the knowledge. If he had half brothers or sisters, they were merely
weeds, to be expunged if discovered.
Footsteps echoed at someone's approach. Darken Rahl showed no concern, or interest, but his
guards did; they drew their swords. No one was allowed to come into the crypt with the Master.
When they saw who it was, they stood down, replacing their weapons. No one but Demmin Nass,
that is.
Darken Rahl stood absorbed in the reading of the symbols, and did not look when his guards drew
their weapons, or when they replaced them. Although his guards were formidable, they were
unnecessary, mere accoutrements of his position. He had powers enough to put down any threat.
Demmin Nass stood at ease, waiting for the Master to finish. When at last Darken Rahl turned, his
blond hair and stark white robe swished around with him. Demmin gave a respectful bow of his
head.
"Demmin, my old friend, how good to see you again." Rahl's quiet tone had a clear, almost liquid
quality to it.
Darken Rahl stared through the commander, as if he weren't there, slowly wetting the tips of the
first three fingers of his right hand with his tongue and then carefully stroking his lips and
eyebrows with them.
"Yes, Lord Rahl. He awaits you in the Garden of Life."
"Yes, Lord Rahl, he is but a boy." Demmin looked away from Rahl's blue eyes.
Demmin shifted his weight. "Yes, Lord Rahl."
"No, Lord Rahl!" Demmin insisted, looking back to the Master, his eyes wide. "I would not touch
your spirit guide! You have forbidden it!"
"I took care of that!" Demmin protested in his deep voice; but not too forcefully. "I had that trader,
Brophy, arrested for the murder of that boy."
Demmin's face wrinkled in frustration. "How was I to know he would do that? Who could expect a
man would willingly do that?"
"You should have been more careful. You should have taken the Confessors into account. And is
that job finished yet?"
Darken Rahl frowned. "Confessor Kahlan is the one who took the confession of this trader, Brophy,
and found him innocent, is she not?"
Rahl remained silent, watching the other. At last Demmin broke the silence.
Darken Rahl lifted an eyebrow. "I will decide what matters are worthy of my attention." His voice
was soft, almost kind.
Rahl licked his fingers again and rubbed them on his lips. He looked sharply back up into the
other's eyes. "Demmin, if you touched the boy, I will know."
Darken Rahl considered Demmin Nass for a moment, then nodded. "As I said, I would know
anyway. And you know what I would do to you if you ever lied to me. I can't tolerate anyone lying
to me. It's wrong."
Rahl shrugged. "Tell her I agree to all her demands in return for the box."
Rahl shrugged innocently. "Now, they are truly a matter not worthy of my time or thought."
Rahl smiled a small private smile as he studied the pockmarked face of his loyal commander. "She
has a wizard, Demmin," he whispered, his blue eyes intense.
"Demmin, why do you think Queen Milena would enlist a wizard in her service?" Demmin only
shrugged, so Rahl answered his own question. "To protect the box, that is why. It is her protection
too, she believes. If we kill her or the wizard, we may find he has hidden the box with magic, and
then we would have to spend time finding it. So why move too quickly? For now, the easiest path is
to go along with her. If she gives me any trouble, I will deal with her, and the wizard." He walked
slowly around his father's coffin, trailing his fingers along the carved symbols as he kept his blue
eyes on Demmin. "And anyway, once I have the last box, her demands will be meaningless." He
came back to the big man, stopping in front of him. "But there is another reason, my friend."
Darken Rahl nodded, leaned closer, and lowered his voice. "Demmin, do you kill your little
boyfriends before . . . or after?"
"And why after? Why not before?" Rahl asked, his face in a coy, questioning frown.
"I like it when they squirm." `
A knowing grin grew across the pockmarked face. "I will tell Queen Milena that Father Rahl has
graciously agreed to her terms."
Both wearing smiles, they strode toward the door. Before they reached it, Darken Rahl stopped
suddenly. He spun on his heels, his robes flinging around him.
Except for the hiss of the torches, the crypt was as silent as the dead king. Demmin and the guards
looked slowly around the chamber.
The other three looked where he pointed. A single white rose petal sat on the floor. Darken Rahl's
face reddened, his eyes fierce. Shaking, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, his eyes filled
with tears of wrath. He was too furious to speak. Regaining his composure, he held out his hand
toward where the white petal lay on the cold marble floor. As if touched by a breeze, it rose into the
air and floated across the room, settling in Rahl's outstretched hand. He licked the petal, turned to
one of the guards, and stuck it to the man's forehead.
Darken Rahl straightened his body, smoothed his hair and then his robes with the flats of his hands.
He took a deep breath, letting his anger out with it. Frowning, his blue eyes searched up at
Demmin, who stood calmly beside him.
The commander's hard eyes scowled back. "Not harsh enough. If you were not so compassionate, if
you didn't allow them a quick punishment, maybe the others would learn to treat your heartfelt
requests with more commitment. I would not be as lenient."
As they came to a pair of doors with a scene of hillsides and forests carved in relief, the second
guard rejoined them, the task assigned him completed. Demmin pulled on the iron rings, and the
heavy doors opened smoothly, silently. Beyond .was a room of dark, brown oak panels. It gleamed
in the light of the candles and lamps set about on heavy tables. Books lined two walls, and an
immense fireplace warmed the two-story room. Rahl stopped for a short time to consult an old
leather-bound book sitting on a pedestal; then he and his commander walked on through a labyrinth
of rooms, most covered in the same warm wood panels. A few were plastered and painted with
scenes of the D'Hara countryside, forests and fields, game and children. The guards followed at a
distance, watching everywhere, alert but silent: the Master's shadows.'
"Again," he whispered.
"Again she comes to the boundary. To the underworld." He licked his fingertips, smoothing them
carefully over his lips and eyebrows as his eyes fixed in a stare.
"The Mother Confessor. Kahlan. She has the help of a wizard, you know."
A thin smile spread on Darken Rahl's lips. "Not Giller," he whispered, "the Old One. The one I
seek. The one who killed my father. She has found him."
"That is why she went to Westland, you know. Not to run from the quad, as you thought, but to find
the great wizard." His blue eyes sparkled. "She has done me a great favor, my friend; she has
flushed out the wizard. It is fortunate she slipped past the ones in the underworld. Fate . is truly on
our side. You see, Demmin, why I tell you not to worry so? It is my destiny to succeed; all things
have a way of working toward my ends."
Demmin unclasped his hands in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Then I will send a third quad, and I will tell them of the wizard," Demmin promised.
Demmin scowled. "I have never seen her, but some of my men have. They fought. over who would
be named to the quads, who would have her."
"If she tries to go through the boundary, she will be lost," Demmin cautioned.
"The two of them are dangerous, the wizard and the Mother Confessor. They could cause us
trouble. Confessors subvert the word of Rahl; they are an annoyance. I think we should do as you
first planned. We should kill her."
"And the Seeker?" Demmin's face was lined with apprehension.
The Master lifted an eyebrow, the firelight flickering in his eyes. "The Queen has the last box. I
will have it soon enough. There is no need for concern."
Rahl took a deep breath. "After I have traveled to the underworld, I will search out the Cypher boy
again. Worry yourself of it no more, my friend. Fate is on our side."
-+---
The Garden of Life was a cavernous room in the center of the People's Palace. Leaded windows
high overhead let in light for the lush plants. This night they let in the moonlight. Around the
outside of the room were flowers set in beds, with walkways winding through. Beyond the flowers
were small trees, short stone walls with vines covering them, and well-tended plants completing the
landscaping. Except for the windows overhead, it mimicked an outdoor garden. A place of beauty.
A place of peace.
In the center of the sand was the boy, buried in an upright position to his neck.
"What is your name, my son?"
"Leave us, .and please take my guards with you. I wish not to be disturbed."
"Better?"
"Are you afraid of that big man?" The boy nodded. "Did he hurt you? Did he touch you where he
shouldn't?"
"What is your name?" Rahl asked again. The boy did not answer. The Master watched his brown
eyes closely. "Do you know who I am?" `
Rahl smiled indulgently. "Father Rahl," he corrected.
"Of course you do," Rahl said with a tone of sympathy and concern. "Please believe me, I'm not
going to harm you. You are simply here to help me with an important ceremony. You are an
honored guest, meant to represent the innocence and strength of youth. You were selected because
people told me what a fine boy you are, what a very good boy you are. Everyone has spoken highly
of you. They tell me you are smart, and strong. Do they speak the truth?"
Darken Rahl stared off wistfully and nodded. "I understand. I miss my mother also. She was such a
wonderful woman, and I loved her so. She took good care of me. When I would do a chore that
pleased her, she would make me a special supper, whatever I wanted."
"My father, mother, and I had wonderful times together. We all loved each other very much and
had fun together. My mother had a merry laugh. When my father would tell a boastful story, she
would poke fun at him and the three of ,us would laugh, sometimes until we got tears in our eyes."
"No," Rahl sighed, "she and my father died a few years ago. They were both old. They both had a
good life together, but I still miss them. So I understand how you miss your parents."
"Let's just try to have as good a time as we can for now, and you will be back with them before you
know it."
Rahl smiled. "Honored to meet you, Carl." He reached out and carefully picked the ant off the boy's
face.
"That's what I'm here for, Carl, to be your friend and help you in any way I can."
"Soon enough, my son, soon enough. I wish I could right now, but the people expect me to protect
them from evil people who would kill them, so I must do what I can to help. You are going to be a
part of that help. You are going to be an important part of the ceremony that will save your mother
and father from the evil ores who would kill mum. -"You do want to protect your mother from
harm, don't you?"
"Well, yes. But I want to go home." His lip began quivering again.
Carl shook his head.
"Father Rahl?"
A tear rolled down Carl's cheek. "I'm afraid to be here alone. Could you stay with me?"
Richard had put the night stone away; it was useless for following the trail, as there was no trail to
follow, and it made it difficult to tell where the boundary light changed to- the green wall. He
hadn't put it back into its leather pouch, in case it was needed again in a' hurry, but had simply
dropped it into his pocket.
Kahlan had not hesitated, the grippers and shadows being a sure death; she had taken Richard's
hand as they had stepped back into the green glow. Shoulder to shoulder, they had entered the
invisible passage. Richard's heart pounded; he tried not to think about what it was they were doingwalking blindly between the walls of the boundary.
Kahlan stopped. She pushed him to the right. She was close to the wall. Then it appeared on his
right. They centered themselves and continued forward, finding that if they went slowly, carefully,
they could stay between the walls, walking a thin line of life, with death to each side. Years of
being a guide were of no help to him. Richard finally stopped trying to find a trace of the trail, and
let himself feel the force of the walls pressing from each side, let the pressure be his guide. It was
slow going, with no sign of the trail in sight, no view of the hillside around them, only the tight
world of the luminous green light, like a bubble of life floating helplessly through an endless sea of
darkness and death.
Richard realized his shoulders ached. The tension of what they were doing was making his muscles
tighten, his breathing shallow. He relaxed, took a deep breath, let his arms hang loose, shook his
wrists to ease the stress away, and then took Kahlan's hand again. He smiled down at her face lit by
the haunting green light. She smiled back, but he could see the controlled terror in her eyes. At
least, he thought, the bones were keeping the shadow things and the beasts away from them, and
nothing appeared beyond the walls when they accidentally encountered them.
Movement caught his attention: He looked behind. Shadow things, a flush of green light around
each, floated in a line between the walls, close at their backs, following the two of them down the
path, skimming above the ground, each lifting in turn to pass over a tree trunk that lay across the
way. Richard and Kahlan stopped, frozen, watching. The shadows didn't stop.
He could see that her shirt was soaked with sweat, same as his, even though it wasn't a warm night.
Without so much as a nod, she started off. He walked backward, his back to hers, his eyes to the
shadows, his mind in a panic. Kahlan went as fast as she could, having to stop and change direction
several times, pulling him after by the hand.
It would only be a matter of minutes before they closed the distance, before they were on him.
The shadows seemed as if they had taken on faces. Richard tried to remember if they had faces
before, but couldn't. His fingers gripped the hilt of the sword tighter as he walked backward,
Kahlan's soft hand warm in his. The faces appeared sad, gentle, in the green glow. They regarded
him with kind, pleading countenances. The raised lettering of the word "Truth" on the sword
seemed to burn painfully into his fingers as he clutched it tighter. Anger seeped from the sword,
searching his mind, searching for his own anger, but, finding only fear and confusion, the anger
wilted. The forms no longer gained on him, but paced along, keeping him company in the lonely
darkness. Somehow, they made him feel less afraid, less tense.
Like the shadows, his mind drifted, smoothly, quietly, gently. Richard thought of his father, longed
for him. He remembered joyful, easy times with him, times of love, sharing, caring, times of safety
when nothing threatened him, nothing ,frightened him, nothing worried him. He longed for those
times again. He realized that that was what the whispers were saying, that it could be like that
again. They wanted to help him reach that place again, that was all.
He had been so wrong, so blind, and hadn't been able to see it before. They weren't there to harm
him, but to help him reach the peace he wanted. It wasn't what they wanted, but what he wanted,
that's what they offered him. They wished only to help release him from loneliness. A wistful smile
spread on his lips. How could he have not seen it before? How could he have been so blind?
Whispers like sweet music washed over him in gentle waves, soothing his fears, giving him soft
light in the dark places of his mind. He stopped walking so that he wouldn't step out of the bathing
warmth of the enchanting murmurs, the breath of the music.
The shadows drifted closer. Richard waited for them, watched their gentle faces, listened to their
soft whispers. When they sighed his name it made him shudder with pleasure. He welcomed them
as they came around in a comforting circle, floating closer, their hands reaching to him as they did
so. Hands lifted to his face, almost touching him, seeking to caress him. He looked from one face to
another, meeting the eyes of his saviors, each holding his gaze in turn, each whispering a promise
of wonderment.
As he turned, he looked for Kahlan, thinking to take her with him, to share the peace with her.
Memories of her flamed into his mind, distracting his attention even though the whispers told him
to ignore them. He scanned the hillside, peering off into the dark rubble. Faint light tinged the sky,
morning materializing. Black voids of the trees ahead stood against the pale pink sky; he was
almost to the end of the slide. He didn't see Kahlan anywhere. The shadows whispered insistently to
him, calling his name. Memories of Kahlan blazed brightly into his mind. Sudden choking fear
flamed up inside him, burning the whispers in his mind to ash.
There was no answer.
"Kahlan!" he screamed again.
And then his anger exploded.
Richard stood, feet dug in, destroying the shadows as fast as they came. His arms ached, his back
hurt, his head ,pounded. Sweat poured from his face. He was exhausted. With nowhere to run, he
was forced to stand his ground, but he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Screams and howls
filled the night air as the shadows seemed to fall eagerly on his sword. A knot of them rushed
forward, forcing him back again before he could slash through them. Again the dark wall came up
at his back. Black forms on the other side of it reached for him while giving out agonizing cries.
Too many shadows were coming at once to allow him to step away from the wall; it was all he
could do to hold where he was. Pain from the reaching hands was wearing him down. He knew that
if they came at him fast enough and in enough numbers, he would be pushed through the wall, into
the underworld. He fought on numbly, endlessly.
But there was no "them," he realized; Kahlan was nowhere to be found. It was only him. Swinging
the sword, he wondered if it had been like this for her, if the shadows had seduced her with their
whispers, and touched her, forced her into the wall. She had no sword to protect her; that was what
he had said he would do. Fury erupted in him anew. The thought of Kahlan being taken by the
shadows, by the underworld, brought the rage roaring forth again, the magic of the Sword of Truth
rising to the summons. Richard cut through the shadows with renewed vengeance. Hatred, flaming
into white-hot need, took him ahead through the forms, swinging the sword faster than they could
come forward to meet it. So he went to them. Howls of their end joined in a mass cry of anguish.
Richard's wrath at what they had done to Kahlan drove him forward in a frenzy of violence.
That was what they were, not shadow people, but the things from the other side of the boundary
wall, the things that had been escaping and taking people, just as they had tried to take him.
A pain from deep inside welled up, and tears came to his eyes
His heart ached with wrenching agony. She was gone, and it had been his fault; he had let down his
guard, he had let her down, had not protected her. How could it have happened so fast? So easily?
Adie had warned him, warned him that they would call to him. Why hadn't he been more cautious?
Why hadn't he paid more attention to her warning? Over and over in his mind he imagined her fear,
her confusion at why he wasn't there with her, her pleading for him to help her. Her pain. Her
death. Desperately, his mind raced as he cried, trying to make time go backward, to do it again
differently, to ignore the voices, to keep hold of her hand, to save her. Tears ran down his face as he
let the tip of the sword lower and drag on the ground, too tired to put it away as he walked forward
in a daze. Rubble of the slide was at an end. The green light faded and was gone as he stepped into
the woods and onto the trail.
Richard's father stood in the light of the boundary.
Richard stared woodenly at him. Morning lit the overcast, washing everything in a wet gray light.
The only color was the glowing green around his father, who held his hands open.
"Yes, I can. She is with us. She is safe now.".
"Yes, she is safe. Come, I will take you to her."
"Yes, son," his father said softly. "Come. She waits for you. I will take you to her."
"Forever," came the answer in the reassuring, familiar voice.
When he reached him, Richard brought the Sword of Truth up, and ran it through his father's heart.
Wide-eyed, his father looked up at him as he was impaled.
His father only shimmered and then dissolved into the dim morning air.
Laboriously, Richard slid his sword home, into its scabbard. When he did so, he noticed the light
from the night stone shining through his pocket, it still being just dark enough to cause it to glow
weakly. He stopped and took the smooth stone out once more and replaced it in its leather pouch,
quenching the dim yellow light.
He was no different from the dark things in the boundary. A bringer of death.
-+---
The Master sat straight-backed and cross-legged on the grass in front of the sleeping boy, his hands
resting palm up on his knees, a smile on his lips, as he thought about what had happened with
Confessor Kahlan at the boundary. Morning sunlight streamed crossways through the windows
overhead, making the colors of the garden flowers vibrant. Slowly, he brought the fingers of his
right hand to his lips, licking the tips and then smoothing his eyebrows before carefully returning
the hand to its, resting place. Thoughts of what he would do to the Mother Confessor had caused
his breathing to quicken. He slowed it now, returning his mind to the matter at hand. His fingers
wriggled, and Carl's eyes popped open.
Carl blinked and squinted at the brightness of the light. "Good morning," he said in a groan. Then,
his eyes looking about, thought to add, "Father Rahl."
"You were here? Here all night?" ..
Carl smiled. "Thanks." He lowered his eyes shyly. "I guess I was kind of silly to be scared."
"My father says I'm being foolish when I get afraid of the dark."
Carl brightened. "Really?" Rahl nodded. "Well, that's what I always thought too." `
"My father always says for me to keep my tongue still."
"Well, they do. Most of the time anyway."
The Master's long blond hair glistened in the morning light; his white robe shone brightly. He
waited. There was a long moment of awkward silence..
Rahl's eyebrows went up. "You seem to me to be of the age where you can think and decide things
for yourself. A fine boy like you, almost a man, and they tell you what to do," he added, half to
himself, shaking his head again. As if he couldn't believe what Carl was telling him, he asked, "You
mean they treat you like a baby?"
Rahl nodded, somewhat suspiciously. "That is good to hear. It is a relief to me."
"They get mad because of when you come home?"
"A belt? Your father hit you with his belt?" Darken Rahl hung his head, then came to his feet,
turning his back to the boy. "I'm sorry, Carl, I had no idea it was like this with them."
Rahl licked his fingers and smoothed them over his eyebrows and lips before he turned back to the
boy and sat once more in front of his anxious face.
"Sure," he nodded, "Tinker. She's a fine dog. I had her since she was a pup."
Carl scrunched up his eyebrows, thinking. "Well, sure, a couple times before she was grown. But
she came back the next day."
"Well, sure."
"I see. And so then when Tinker came back the next day, what did you do?"
"You didn't beat Tinker with your belt?"
"Why not?"
"But you were worried?".
"So you hugged Tinker when she came back because you loved her and you were worried about
her."
Rahl leaned back a little, his blue eyes intense. "I see. And if you had beaten Tinker with your belt
when she came back to you, what do you think she would have done?"
"I see," Rahl said meaningfully.
"I'm sorry, Carl. I did not mean to upset you. But I want you to know that when this is all over, and
you go home again, that if you ever need a home, you will always be welcome here. You are a fine
boy, a fine young man, and I would be proud to have you stay here, with me. Both you and Tinker.
And I want you to know I trust you to think for yourself, and you may come and go as you please."
Rahl smiled warmly. "Now, how about some food?"
"What would you like? We have anything you could want."
The Master walked off through the garden to a small vine covered door at the side. The door
opened for him as he approached, the big arm of Demmin Nass holding it back as Rahl passed
through into the dark room. Foul-smelling gruel boiled in an iron kettle hung over a fire in a small
forge. The two guards stood silently against the far wall, a sheen of sweat covering them.
Rahl licked his finger tips. "He will do nicely." He smoothed his eyebrows down. "Dish me out a
bowl of that slop so it can cool."
"If everything is all right"-a wicked grin came over his pockmarked face-"then I will be off to pay
our respects to Queen Milena."
Demmin stopped ladling. "She doesn't like me."
Demmin started ladling again. "She will ask how soon you will need her."
"Two weeks, all right." Demmin set the bowl of gruel down. "But does it really need to take that
long with the boy?"
Demmin hooked a thumb in his belt. "We have another problem." Rahl glanced back over his
shoulder. "Is that all you do, Demmin? Go around looking for problems?"
Rahl smiled. "So it does, my friend, so it does." He sighed. "Get it off your tongue, then."
"Vanished?"
Rahl laughed. Demmin frowned in confusion.
"Master Rahl, that was how you were to find the book. Other than the last box, what could be more
important?"
"My talents lie in areas other than magic, Master Rahl."
"You have exceeded your father's deepest,, hopes, Master Rahl."
He stood up straight, turning back to Demmin, a dark look on his face. "Before I could get the
book, a man named George Cypher killed the guard beast, and stole the book. My book. He took a
tooth from the beast as a trophy. A very stupid thing to do, as the beast was sent by magic, my
magic"-he lifted an eyebrow-"and I can find my magic."
"So that is how you know the Cypher boy has the book."
Rahl picked up the bowl of gruel, handing it to Demmin. "Taste this, see if it is cool enough." He
arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to hurt the boy."
"Cypher could lose the tooth, or simply throw it away. Then you would not be able to find him, or
the book." Demmin gave a submissive bow of his head as he spoke. "Please forgive me for saying
so, Master Rahl but it would seem to rite you leave a lot to chance."
Demmin took a deep breath, relaxing as he thought about Rahl's words. "I can see now why you
haven't been worried. I didn't know all this."
Demmin diverted his eyes to the ground: "Yes, Master Rahl." He looked back up. "Please know
that I only bring my concerns to you because I want success for you. You are rightfully the master
of all the lands. We all need you to guide us. I wish only to be part of delivering you victory. I fear
nothing but that I should fail you."
Demmin bowed his head. "Thank you, Master Rahl, for the honor of serving you." the big man left
through a backdoor as Rahl went out the one into the garden. The guards stayed in the small, hot,
forge room.
"What's this thing?" Carl asked, squinting up at it. "A horn?" "Yes, that's right. Very good, Carl. It's
a feeding horn. It's a part of the ceremony you will be in. The other young men who have helped
the people in the past have thought it a most fun way to eat. You put your mouth over the end there,
and I serve you by pouring the food in the top."
"Yes." Rahl smiled reassuringly. "And guess what, I got you a fresh blueberry pie, still warm out of
the oven."
Rahl passed his hand in a circle over the bowl three times to change the taste, then looked down at
Carl. "I had to mash it up so it will go through the feeding horn, I hope that's all right."
Rahl poured a little gruel into the end of the horn. When it reached Carl's mouth, he ate it eagerly.
"I'm so pleased," Rahl said with a shy smile. "It's my own recipe. I feared it wouldn't be as good as
your mother's."
"Of course, my son. With Father Rahl, there is always more."
There were no tracks. Nothing had been through the Narrows for a long time. Fatigue and despair
enveloped him again as fits of icy wind flapped his forest cloak around him, seeming to urge him
on, away from the Narrows. All hope gone, he turned once more to the path, toward the Midlands.
If Kahlan had become separated from him, if she thought the underworld had taken him, if she
thought she had lost him and was alone; would she have continued on, to the Midlands? Alone?
He turned to the Narrows. No. She would have gone back. Back to the wizard.
Richard dared not put too much faith in the thought, but it wasn't that far back to the place where he
had fought the shadows, where he had lost her. He couldn't go on without checking, without
knowing for sure. Fatigue forgotten, he plunged back into the Narrows.
With a jolt of recognition, he saw what he was looking for. The tracks of the two of them, together,
then hers, alone. His heart pounded as he followed them, hoping so hard it hurt, that they wouldn't
lead into the wall. Squatting, he inspected them, touched them. Her tracks wandered about a while,
seemingly confused, and then they stopped, and turned. Where their pair of tracks led in from the
other way, one set of tracks lead back.
Richard stood in a rush, his breathing rapid, his pulse racing. The green light glowed irritatingly
about him. He wondered how far she could have gone. It had taken them most of the night to
laboriously cross the Narrows. But they hadn't known where the trail was. He looked down at the
footprints in the mud. He did now.
The clear metallic ringing filled the dim morning air as the Seeker drew his sword. Anger flooded
through him. Without a second thought, Richard dashed down the trail, following the tracks. The
pressure of the wall buffeted him as he jogged through the cool mist. When the tracks turned,
switching back and forth; he didn't slow, but set his feet to one side or the other to throw his weight
the other way down the path.
Without slowing he went through the split rock, kicking a gripper out of the way. On the other side
he stopped to catch his breath. He was overwhelmed with relief that her footprints went all the way.
Now, back on the forest trail, her tracks would be harder to see, but it didn't matter. He knew where
she was going, and he knew she was safely through the Narrows. He felt like crying with joy in the
knowledge that Kahlan was alive.
Richard trotted off down the trail, keeping the sword-and his anger-out. He didn't waste time to stop
and look for signs of her trail, but whenever there was a soft or muddy patch, he looked down,
checking, as he slowed a little. After running over an area of mossy ground, he came to a small bare
patch with footprints. He gave a cursory glance as he went by. Something he saw made him stop so
suddenly that he fell. On his hands and knees, he peered down at the prints. His eyes widened.
Rage brought him to his feet scrambling into a dead run. Branches and rock flashed by in a blur.
His only concern was to stay on the trail and avoid accidentally running into the boundary, not out
of fear for himself, but because he knew he couldn't help Kahlan if he got himself killed. His lungs
burned for air as his chest heaved with exertion. The anger of the magic made him ignore his
exhaustion, his lack of sleep.
He was going to kill her.
Richard watched as if in a dream as his sword came around.
Everything else around the man dissolved in Richard's vision. His anger, the magic, was unleashed
like never before. No power on earth could deny him the man's blood. Richard was beyond all
reason. Beyond all other need. Beyond all other cause for living. He was death, brought to life
With a beat of his heart that he could feel in the straining muscles of his neck, Richard watched out
of his peripheral vision with expectant elation as he held the man's blue eyes, watched his sword
finally sweep the rest of the agonizing distance around in a smooth arc, at long last contracting the
enemy's raised sword. He saw the detail of it shattering ever so. slowly in a burst of hot fragments,
freeing the bulk of the severed blade to lift into the air, twisting as it went, its polished surface
glinting in the light with a flash upon each of the three revolutions it made before the Seeker's
sword; with all the power of his rage and the magic behind it, reached the man's head, contacting
the chain mail, making the head deflect only the tiniest bit before the sword exploded through the
steel links of the mail, through the man's head at eye level, filling the air with a shower of steel
pieces and links.
The bringer of death stood victorious over the object of his hate and rage, soaked in blood and the
glory of joy such as he had never imagined. His chest heaved in rapture. Bringing the sword to the
front again, he checked for any other threat. There was none.
Everything about jolted back into his sight. Richard saw a wide-eyed look of shock on Kahlan's
face before the pain took him to his knees, ripping through him, doubling him over.
Sudden realization of what he had done slashed through him. He had killed a man. Worse, he had
killed a man he had wanted to kill. It didn't matter that he was protecting another life; he had
wanted to kill. Had reveled in it. He would have allowed nothing t9 deny him the killing.
In searing pain like none he had ever known he clutched his arms across his abdomen. His mouth
was open, but no scream came forth. He tried to let himself lose consciousness to stop the pain, but
could not. Nothing else existed but the pain, just as nothing else had existed, in his desire to kill,
but the man.
In the fog of agony, a realization came to him; he recognized the pain. It was the same as the anger.
It coursed through him the same way as the anger from the sword. He knew that feeling well
enough; it was the magic. Once he recognized it as the magic, he urgently tried to take control of it,
the way he had learned to control the anger. This time he knew he must win control, or die. He
reasoned with himself, came to comprehend the need of what he had done, horrible as it was. The
man had sentenced himself to death with his own intent to kill.
Lying on his back, panting, he felt the world come rushing back. Kahlan was kneeling beside him,
wiping a cool, damp cloth over his face. Wiping off the blood. Her brow was wrinkled; tears ran
down her cheeks. Splatters of the man's blood lay in long streaks across her face.
"I'm so very sorry, Richard," she sobbed.
"That you had to kill a man on my account."
She shook her head against his neck. "I knew how much the magic would hurt you. That's why I
didn't want you to have to fight the men back at the inn."
She separated from him, her hands on leis arms, squeezing as if to keep testing that he was real.
"Zedd told me to watch out for you, if you used the sword to kill a man. He told me that what he
said about the anger protecting you was true, but he said the first time was different, that the magic
tested, took a measure of the Seeker with the pain, and nothing could protect you from it. He said
that he couldn't tell you because if you knew, it would make you hold back, be more cautious in its
use, and that could be disastrous. He said the magic has to join to the Seeker with its first ultimate
use, to ascertain his intent when he kills." She squeezed his arms. "He said the magic could do
terrible things to you. It tests with the pain, to see who will be the master, who the ruled."
For the first time, Richard truly understood the meaning of being Seeker, in a way no one else but a
Seeker could. Bringer of death. He understood it now. Understood the magic, how he used it, how
it used him, how they were now joined. For better or worse, he would never be the same again. He
had tasted fulfillment of his darkest desire. It was done. There was no going back to being as he
was before.
"I understand. I know now what he was talking about. You were right to not tell me." He touched
the side of her face, his voice gentle. "I was so afraid you were killed."
"I thought that's what happened to you too. I almost went on, alone." He grinned. "Seems I have to
keep coming back for you."
"Richard, we have to get out of here. There are beasts about. They will come for his body; we can't
be here when they do."
The magic ignited in a rage, warning its master.
292
She hugged him once more, a quick hug with her free arm. "I still can't believe you are alive. I was
so sure I had lost you."
Kahlan shook her head: "I don't know. They were following us, and when we became separated and
I went back, I didn't see them anymore. Did you see any?"
Concern came over Kahlan's face. "Why just you? Why not both of us?"
"The last time at the boundary, they came for everyone but you;" she said. "What's different this
time?"
Kahlan smiled and squeezed his hand.
"I ran back through the Narrows. It didn't take long that way. You up to that?"
When they were clear of the slide, and on the forest path on the other side of the Narrows, they
slowed to a fast walk to catch their breath. Drizzle wet their faces and hair. Happiness over finding
her alive dimmed his worry about the difficulties that lay ahead. They shared bread and fruit as they
kept moving. Even though his stomach was grumbling with hunger, he didn't want to stop for
anything more elaborate
After they had eaten a little and the afternoon had worn on, they heard growls off in the woods.
Kahlan said it was the beasts. They decided to run again, to get clear of the pass as soon as
possible. Richard was beyond being tired. He was simply numb as they ran through the thick wood.
Light rain on the leaves washed out the sound of their footfalls.
Kahlan held herself erect, rigid. "I know this place," she whispered.
"It is called the Wilds. We are in the Midlands." She turned to him. "I am returned home."
"It is not named after the land. It is named after those who live in it."
Kahlan took her cloak off and shook out the water. "I've never seen it be overcast so long, or rain so
much. I can't even remember what the sun looks like. I'm becoming weary of it."
Kahlan thought this over. "From now on, I will be happier about the clouds. But next time, could
you ask him to bring clouds that are not so wet?" Richard smiled and nodded. "Do you want
anything to eat?" she asked.
"Yes. No one lives near the boundary in the Wilds. Adie said we are protected from the beasts, so
the heart hounds should not bother us."
Kahlan smiled over at him. "Welcome to the Midlands. You have done as you said you would: you
got us here. Now the hard work begins. What would you have us do?"
Kahlan gave him a sideways glance. "We are a long way from anyone who would want to help us."
He turned his face to hers, and she gave him one of her special, tight-upped smiles. Kahlan watched
his eyes in the near darkness for a few minutes.
He smiled back at her. "Not easy," he agreed.
"If he succeeds, Darken Rahl will not respect their wishes," he reminded her.
"Have you dealt with them before?"
"Do they trust you?"
Richard had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from asking why they were afraid of her. "How
far?"
"Good enough. In the morning we head northeast."
"I had to-what good would it do to go to the Midlands without my guide?"
He gave her hand a squeeze before they both lay down. Sleep took him as he thanked the good
spirits for protecting her
He was surprised to come face-to-face with a woman just as she also turned around.
"Who are you?" he asked, leaning forward, peering into her white eyes.
Zedd straightened his robes. "How many meals have I missed?" he demanded
A grin creased Zedd's cheek. He in turn eyed Adie from top to bottom. "You are a fine-looking
woman," he announced. With a bow he took her hand and kissed it lightly, then stood up proud and
straight, holding one bony finger skyward. "Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander, humbly at your whim, my
dear lady." He leaned forward. "What's wrong with your leg?"
"No, no," he said with a frown, pointing. "Not that one, the other."
"Well, I hope you learned your lesson; you only have one foot left, you know." Zedd's frown
melted back to a grin. "And the problem with my eyes," he said in his thin voice, "is that they have
been famished, but now they are feasting."
"I thought you would never ask, sorceress."
"Richard made this soup," he said in an even voice, the second spoonful hanging midway between
the bowl and his mouth.
Zedd looked around as he put the spoon down in the bowl. "And where is he?"
Zedd picked up the cheese in one hand, the bread in the other, taking alternating bites as he listened