came, tumbling, twisting, expanding.

With the fright of what was about to happen, Richard's hand went to the hilt, feeling the word Truth
press into the flesh of his palm. With a strong pull, he drew the sword, sending metallic ringing into
the air. Released, the magic raced instantly through him. The fire was almost there. As he had done
when he had been with Shota, he held the sword up, gripping the hilt in one hand, the point in the
other, arms locked, holding it before him as a shield. Wrath took him, at the thought of Zedd
betraying them. It couldn't be Zedd.

The impact drove him back a step. Heat and fire was all around him. The anger of the wizard's fire
exploded, scattering back into the air from where it came, and then it was gone.

"Zedd! What are you doing? Are you crazy! It's me, Richard!" He advanced, angry. Angry that
Zedd would do this, angry from the magic of the sword. The heat of his rage pounded through his
veins.

Zedd, in his simple robes, looking as thin and frail as ever, stood his ground. Chase, bristling
weapons, looking as dangerous as ever, stood his. Zedd took Kahlan's arm in his sticklike hand and
pulled her protectively behind himself. Chase started forward, the look in his eyes as dark as his
clothes.

"Chase," Zedd cautioned in a low voice, "don't be a fool. Stay where you are."

Richard looked from one grim face to another. "What's the matter with you three? What are you
doing here? I told you not to come after me! Darken Rahl has sent men to capture you. You must
turn back."

Zedd, his white hair in its usual disarray, turned a little to Kahlan, but kept his eyes on Richard.
"Do you know what he's saying?"

Kahlan shook her head, pulling some of her long hair back. "No. I think it's high D'Haran; I don't
speak high D'Haran."

"High D'Haran? What are you talking about? What are . . ."

With a cold wave of understanding, he remembered. It was the enemy web Darken Rahl had put on
him. They didn't recognize him. They thought he was their worst enemy. They thought he was
Darken Rahl.

Another thought came to him. Bumps ran up his arms to the back of his neck. Zedd, at least,
thought he was Darken Rahl, and had used wizard's fire against him. Zedd wasn't the traitor. That
left only Kahlan. Could it be she saw him for who he really was?

Choked with fear at the thought, he advanced toward her as his stare locked on her green eyes,
Kahlan's back stiffened, her hands at her sides, her head held up. Richard recognized the stance; it
was one of warning. Serious warning. He knew what her touch would do to him. He remembered
Shota's warning that he might beat Zedd, but that Kahlan would not fail.

Zedd tried to stay between them. Richard hardly noticed him as he pushed the old man out of the
way. Zedd came up behind him and put his thin fingers on the back of Richard's neck. They gave a
pain something like the Agiel had given. Fire burned through the nerves of his arms, and all the
way down his legs. Before all the time spent at the mercy of Denna, the wizard's fingers would
have paralyzed him with pain. But Denna had spent a long time training him, forcing him to
tolerate pain, to deal with this much and more. Zedd was a match for what Denna had been able to
do, but Richard pulled resolve from deep within himself, and put the pain from his mind, letting the
anger of the sword take its place. He gave Zedd a look of warning. The wizard didn't back off.
Richard gave him another shove. He pushed harder than he intended to, and Zedd tumbled to the
ground. Kahlan stood frozen in front of him.

"Who do you see me as?" the Seeker whispered. "Darken Rahl, or Richard?"

She trembled slightly, seemingly unable to move. Richard's eye was caught by something, his view
flicked down for an instant, and he saw that he had the sword point at her throat, at the hollow of
her neck. He hadn't been aware of putting it there; it was as if the magic had taken it there of its
own accord. But he knew that wasn't true. He had put it there. That was why she was trembling. A
drop of blood grew against her skin, under the sword's point. If she was the traitor, he had to kill
her.

The blade had turned white. So had Kahlan's face.

"Who do you see?" he whispered again. '

"What have you done to Richard?" Her whisper was ragged with rage. "If you have harmed him, I
swear I will kill you."

He remembered the way she had kissed him. It was not the kiss of a traitor, it was a kiss of love. He
realized there was no way he could kill her, even if his fear was true. But he knew now it wasn't.
With tears in his eyes, he slid the sword into its scabbard.

"I'm sorry, Kahlan. May the good spirits forgive me for what I almost did. I know you can't
understand me, but I'm sorry. Darken Rahl is using the Wizard's First Rule on me, trying to turn us
against one another. He is trying to make me believe a lie, and I almost did. I know you and Zedd
would never betray me. Forgive me for thinking it."

"What do you want?" Zedd asked. "We can't understand you."

"Zedd . . ." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "How can I make you understand?" He
grabbed the wizard's robes in his fists. "Zedd, where's the box? I have to have the box before Rahl
finds it! We can't let him get it!"

Zedd frowned. Richard knew this was doing no good; none of them could understand him. He went
to the horses and started searching through the packs.

"Look all you want, you'll never find it," the wizard smiled. "We don't have the box. You are going
to die in four days."

Richard sensed something move behind him. He spun around; Chase had the mace raised. A stream
of fire shot past, between them. Scarlet kept the fire up until Chase stepped back.

"Some friends you have," the dragon grumbled.

"Darken Rahl put a wizard's web on me. They don't recognize me."

"Well, if you stay with them much longer, they are going to kill you."

Richard -realized that they wouldn't have the box. Not if they were coming to D'Hara to save him.
They wouldn't have risked taking the box to Rahl. The three of them silently watched him and the
dragon.

"Scarlet, say something to them, see if they can understand you."

The dragon's head swept closer to the three. "This is not Darken Rahl, but your friend, hidden by a
wizard's web. Can any of you understand me?"

The three stood mute. Aggravated, Richard stepped closer to Zedd.

"Zedd, please try to understand me. Don't seek the night stone. If you do, Rahl will trap you in the
underworld. Try to understand!"

None of the three grasped a word he was saying. He had to get the box first; then he would come
back and protect them from the men Rahl had sent. Reluctantly, he climbed back up onto Scarlet.
She kept a wary eye to the three, puffing a little smoke and flame in warning. Richard wanted
desperately to stay with Kahlan, but he couldn't-he had to get the box first.

"bet's get out of here. We have to go find my brother."

With a roar of flame, warning the three to stay back, Scarlet took to the air. Richard held her spikes
tight. Her red, scaled neck stretched out as she climbed into the sky among the drifting white
clouds, weaving between them. He watched his three friends watching back until he could see them
no more. He felt desperately helpless. He wished he could have seen Kahlan's smile, just once.

"Now what?" Scarlet asked over her shoulder.

"We have to find my brother. He should be with an army of about a thousand men, somewhere
between here and the Rang'Shada. They shouldn't be as hard to find." '

"They couldn't understand my words; the web must affect me too, since I'm with you. But it must
be a web for people, not dragons, for I see the truth. If these three wanted to kill you because of a
wizard's web, surely the others will too. I can't protect you against a thousand men."

"I have to try. I'll think of something. Michael is my brother, I'll think of a way to make him see the
truth. He's on his way with the army to help me. I need his help very badly."

Since an army would be easier to spot, they flew high, to see more ground. Scarlet made gentle
sweeping turns among the immense, cottony clouds. Richard hadn't realized how big clouds really
were, when viewed this close. As some of them gathered, it was like being in a wonderland of
white mountains, and valleys. The dragon skimmed under their dark bases, sometimes passing
through a damp wisp that hung down, her head disappearing in the whiteness at the end of her neck,
the tips of her wings vanishing, too. The size of the clouds made even Scarlet seem small and
insignificant.

They searched for hours without seeing any sign of an army. Richard was getting so used to flying,
he didn't have to hold on to Scarlet's spikes all the time. He leaned back against two of them, letting
his body relax while he looked at the landscape below. ' As they flew, Richard thought about what
he could do to convince Michael of who he was. Michael would have the box; that had to be where
Zedd had left it. Zedd would have hidden it from Rahl with magic, and let the army protect it. He
had to think of a way to show Michael who he was. Once he had the box, he would have Scarlet fly
it up to her cave with her egg. There it would be safe from Rahl.

Then he could go back to Kahlan and protect her from Rahl's men. Maybe he could have Scarlet fly
her to the cave, too. There she would be safe from the men.

Three and a half days, and then Darken Rahl would die. Then Kahlan would be safe for sure.
Forever. Then he would go back to Westland, and be finished with the magic. Be famished with
Kahlan. The thought of never, seeing her again made him weak with pain.

Late in the afternoon, Scarlet spotted the army. She was better at seeing things from this height than
he. They were still a long way off and Richard had to stare awhile. At first he saw only a wispy
column of dust; then he saw the ranks, moving along a road.

"Well, what's your plan? What do you want to do?" she called back to him.

"Do you think you could land us ahead of them, without letting them see us?"

A big yellow eye frowned back at him. "I'm a red dragon. I could land us in the middle of them,
and they wouldn't see me, if I didn't want them to. How close do you want to be to them?"

"I don't want them to see me. I have to get to Michael without his men seeing me. I need to avoid
trouble." Richard thought a moment. "Set us down a few hours' march ahead of them. Let them
come to us. It'll be dark soon; then I can get to Michael."

Scarlet held her wings spread, gliding in a spiral toward hills ahead of the advancing army. She
came down behind some of the higher ground, flew up the valleys, keeping out of sight of the road,
and landed in a small clearing of long brown grass. Her bright red scales, glossy and lustrous, stood
out in the late afternoon light. Richard slid off her shoulder.

Her head came around. "What now?"

"I want to wait until dark, until they set up camp for the night

After they eat, I'll be able to sneak into Michael's tent, and talk to him alone. I'll think of a way to
convince him of who I really am."

The dragon grumbled, looking up at the sky, and toward the road. Her head swung back around,
tilting, a big yellow eye peering at him.

"It will be dark soon. I must return to my egg. It needs to be warmed."

"I understand, Scarlet." Richard let out a deep breath, thinking. "Come back for me in the morning.
I'll wait for you in this field at sunrise."

Scarlet looked up at the sky. "Clouds are gathering." Her head came back down. "If there are
clouds, I can't fly in them."

Why?"

She grunted, a puff of smoke rising from her nostrils. "Because clouds have rocks in them."

Richard frowned. "Rocks

Her tail swished impatiently. "The clouds hide things; it's like fog, you can't see. When you can't
see, you run into things, like hills and mountains. I may be strong, but running into rock when I'm
flying would break my neck. If the cloud bottoms are high enough, I can fly under them. If the tops
are low enough, I can fly over them, but then I won't be able to see the ground. I won't be able to
find you. What if there are clouds and I can't find you, or what if something else goes wrong?"

Richard rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking off toward the road. "If anything goes
wrong, I'll have to go back to my other three friends. I'll try to stick to the main road, so you will be
able to see me." Richard swallowed hard. "If all else fails, I will have to go back to the People's
Palace. Please, Scarlet, if I can't stop Rahl with what I do here, I must be in the People's Palace
three days from tomorrow."

"Not much time."

"I know."

"Three days from tomorrow, and then I'm done with you."

Richard smiled. "That's our bargain."

Scarlet peered up once more. "I don't like the look of the sky. Good luck, Richard Cypher. I will
return in the morning."

She took a little run and lifted into the air. Richard watched her circle around him once, low, then
fly off getting smaller, disappearing between hills. A memory struck him: the memory of having
seen her before. It had been the day he had first met Kahlan, right after the snake vine had bit him.
He had seen her fly overhead just as she had done now, and disappear behind hills. He wondered
what she had been doing in Westland that day.

Making his way through the tall, dry grass, Richard hiked to a nearby hill, climbing to the top of its
sparsely wooded slope, where he could watch the approaches to the west. He found a well-hidden
nook in the brush, made himself comfortable, and took out some dried meat and fruit. He found he
even had a few apples left. He ate without enjoyment while he watched for the Westland army and
his brother, wondering all the while what he' could do to convince Michael of who he was.

He thought of trying to write it out, or maybe even drawing a picture, or a map, but he had doubts
that would work. If the enemy web around him changed his spoken words, it would probably
change the written' ones as well. He tried to think of games they had played when they were young,
but none stood out in his mind. Michael hadn't played all that much with him when they were
young. Richard remembered that Michael only really liked fighting with play swords. He didn't
think pulling his sword on his brother would have the desired effect.

But there was one thing, he remembered. When they had played at swords, Michael had liked
Richard to salute him, while on one knee. Would Michael remember that? He had liked it done
often; it made him smile more than anything else. Michael called it the loser's salute. When Richard
had won, Michael wouldn't give him the salute, and Richard wasn't his match in size at the time,
and hadn't ever been able to make Michael give the salute. But Michael had made Richard give it
often enough. He smiled at the memory, though at the time it had hurt. Maybe Michael would
remember. It was worth a try.

Before dark came, Richard heard the sound of the horses coming, the sound .of gear clattering,
leather creaking, metal rattling, the sound of a lot of men on the move. About fifty well-armed
horsemen rode past at a quick pace, raising dust and kicking up dirt. He saw Michael, dressed in
white, at their lead. Richard recognized the uniforms, the Hartland crest on each shoulder, the
yellow banner with a blue silhouette of a pine tree and crossed swords under it. Each man wore a
short sword over his shoulder, had a battle-axe hooked to a wide belt, and carried a short spear.
Their mail armor, called battle nets, sent sparks of light through the dust. These were not regular
Westland soldiers; these were Michael's personal guards.

Where was the army? From the air, he had seen all of them together, horsemen and foot soldiers.
These horses were moving too fast for foot soldiers at a march to keep up. Richard stood after they
passed, looking back up the road to see if the others were to follow. No one else came.

At first worried about what this could mean, he relaxed, when it came to him. Zedd, Chase, and
Kahlan had left the box with Michael, and told him they were going to D'Hara, going after Richard.
Michael probably couldn't wait any longer, and was going himself to help. The foot soldiers
couldn't keep up the pace needed to reach the People's Palace in time, so Michael had taken his
personal guard and ridden on ahead, leaving the rest to catch up when they could.

Fifty men, even Michael's personal guard, tough as they were, were still not many if they ran into a
good-size force of Rahl's men. Richard guessed that Michael was putting his heart above his head.

Richard didn't catch them until well after dark. They had ridden hard, and stopped late. They had
gotten farther ahead of him than he had expected, and it was well past dinner when he finally
reached their camp. The horses had been tended to and picketed for the night. Some men were
already in their bedrolls. Guards were posted, and hard to spot in the dark, but Richard knew where
to expect them, as he looked down from a hilltop, watching the camp's small fires.

It was a dark night. Clouds hid the moon. He worked his way carefully down the hill, creeping
silently between the guards. Richard was in his element. It was easy for him; he knew where they
were, and they weren't expecting him to be gliding through their midst. He watched them watching,
and ducked down when they looked his way. Once inside the ring of guards, he made his way to
the camp. Michael had made it easy for him; his tent was set off, away from the men. If he had put
his tent among his men, it would have been more difficult. Still, there were guards around the tent.
Richard studied them for a while, analyzing the weak points, until he found the place where he
would pass between them: in the shadow of the tent, the shadow cast by the fires. The guards
stayed to the light because they couldn't see anything in the shadow.

Richard stalked through the blackness, to the tent, and squatted down, making himself still, silent,
low to the ground. He listened for a long time to determine if anyone was in the tent with Michael.
He heard papers being shuffled, and there was a lamp burning, but he heard no one else inside.
Carefully, he made a tiny cut with his knife, just enough to see through. He saw Michael's left side
to him as he sat at a small, collapsible field table, looking over papers. His head of unruly hair was
cradled in one hand. The papers didn't seem to have lines of words on them, and from what Richard
could see, they were large. Probably maps.

He had to get inside, stand tall, drop to one knee, and do his salute, before Michael had a chance to
raise an alarm. Just inside, below him, was a cot. That was what he needed to hide his entry.
Holding the rope taut so the canvas wouldn't jerk back suddenly, Richard cut the tie down in about
the center of where the cot sat, then lifted the edge of the canvas a little and rolled carefully
underneath it, behind the cot.

When Michael turned to a sound, Richard rose up in front of the little table, in front of his brother.
Richard had a smile on his face at seeing his older brother again. Michael's head snapped to him.
The color left his soft cheeks. He leapt to his feet. Richard was just about to do his salute when
Michael spoke.

"Richard . . . how did you . . . What are you doing here? It's . . . so . . . good to see you again. We
have all been so . . . worried."

Richard's smile withered.

When the enemy web was put on him, Rahl had said those who honored Rahl would see Richard
for who he was.

Michael saw him for who he was.

Michael was the one who had betrayed him. Michael was the one who allowed him to be captured
and tortured by a Mord-Sith. Michael was the one who would give Kahlan and Zedd over to
Darken Rahl. Michael was the one who would give everyone over to Darken Rahl. His insides
turned to ice..

Richard could manage no more than a whisper. "Where is the box?"

"Ah . . . you look hungry, Richard. Let me have some dinner brought in for you. We'll have a talk.
It's been so long."

Richard kept his hand away from the sword, for fear he would use it. He sternly reminded himself
that he was the Seeker, and that was all that mattered right now. He was not Richard; he was the
Seeker. He had a job to do. He could not allow himself to be Richard. He could not allow himself
to be Michael's brother. There were more important things right now. Much more important.

"Where is the box?"

Michael's eyes darted about. "The box . . . well . . . Zedd told me about it .... He was going to give it
to me . . . but then he said something about finding you in D'Hara by a stone of some sort, and the
three of them went off after you. I told them I wanted to come too, to save my brother, but I had to
get the men together, and prepare, so they started ahead of me. Zedd kept the box. He has it."

Richard now knew; Darken Rahl had the third box. Darken Rahl had spoken the truth.

The Seeker suppressed his emotions and made a quick assessment of the situation. The only thing
that mattered now was getting to Kahlan. If he lost his head now, she would be the one to suffer;
she would be the one at the end of an Agiel. He found himself concentrating on a mental image of
Denna's braid. He let himself do it. Whatever worked, he told himself. He couldn't kill Michael,
couldn't risk being captured by all those men outside. He couldn't even let Michael know what he
knew; that would accomplish nothing, and risk others.

He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Well, as long as the box is safe. That's what counts."

Some of the color returned to Michael's face, bringing with it a smile. "Richard are you all right?
You look . . . different. You look like you have been through . . . a lot."

"More than you could ever know, Michael." He sat down on the cot. Michael returned cautiously to
his chair. Dressed in his baggy white trousers and shirt, a gold belt at his waist, he looked like a
disciple of Darken Rahl. Richard noticed the maps his brother had been looking at. Maps of
Westland. Maps of Westland, for Darken Rahl. "I was in D'Hara, just as Zedd told you, but I
escaped. We have to get away from D'Hara. As far away as possible. I must go get the others,
before they go there looking for me. You can take your men back now, take the army back and
protect Westland. Thank you, Michael, for coming to help me."

His brother's smile widened. "You're my brother. What else was I going to do?"

With the pain of betrayal burning hotly in him, Richard forced a warm smile. In some ways, this
was worse than if the traitor had been Kahlan. He had grown up with Michael; they were brothers,
and had shared a good portion of their lives. He had always admired Michael, always supported
him, given him his unconditional love. He remembered bragging to other boys about his older
brother.

"Michael, I need a horse. I must be on my way. Right now."

"We'll all go with you. Me and my men." His grin widened. "Now that we're back together, I don't
want to lose sight of you again."

Richard jumped to his feet. "No!" He calmed his voice. "You know me, I'm used to being alone in
the woods. It's what I do best. You would only slow me down. I don't have the time now."

Michael stood, his eyes shifting to the tent's opening. "I'll not hear of it. We are . . ."

"No. You are First Councilor of Westland. That is your first responsibility, not watching after your
little brother. Please, Michael, take the army back to Westland. I'll be fine."

Michael rubbed his chin. "Well, I guess you're right. We were only going to D'Hara to help you, of
course, and now that you're safe . . . "

"Thank you for coming to help me, Michael. I'll get my own horse. You go back to your work."

Richard felt like the biggest fool that had ever lived. He should have known. He should have
figured it out a long time ago. He remembered the speech Michael had given about fire being the
enemy of the people. He should have known from that, if nothing else. Kahlan had tried to warn
him that first night. Her suspicions that Michael was on Rahl's side were correct. If only he had
listened to his head instead of his heart.

Wizard's First Rule: people are stupid, they believe what they want to believe. He had been the
stupidest of them all. He was too angry with himself to be angry with Michael.

His refusal to see the truth was going to cost him everything. He had no choices left him now. He
deserved to die.

With wet eyes held on Michael, Richard slowly dropped to one knee, and gave the loser's salute.

Michael put his hands on his hips and smiled down. "You remember. That was a long time ago,
little brother."

Richard rose. "Not so long ago. Some things never change; I always loved you. Good-bye,
Michael."

Richard gave momentary thought, again, to killing his brother. He knew he would have to do it
with the anger of the sword; he would never be able to bring himself to forgive Michael and make
the blade white. For himself, maybe, but for what he had done to Kahlan, and Zedd, never. Killing
Michael wasn't as important as helping Kahlan; he couldn't take the risk just to soothe his own
stupidity. He went through the tent's opening. Michael followed.

"At least stay and have something to eat. There are other things to discuss. I'm still not sure .. ."

Richard turned back looking at his brother standing in front of the tent. A light mist had begun to
fall. He realized by the look on Michael's face that he didn't have any intention of letting him go; he
was only waiting until he could get to his men for support.

"Do it my way, Michael, please. I have to go."

"You men," he called to the guards, "I want my brother to stay with us, for his own protection."

Three guards started for him. Richard leapt over the brush and into the blackness of the night. They
followed, clumsily. These were not woodsmen, they were soldiers. Richard didn't want to have to
kill them; they were Westlanders. He slipped through the darkness while the camp came to life with
the sound of orders being yelled. He heard Michael yelling for them to stop him, but not to kill
him., Of course not; he wanted to hand Richard over to Darken Rahl personally:

Richard made his way around the camp to the horses, slipping between the guards. He cut all the
lead lines, then mounted one, bareback. He yelled and kicked and slapped at the others. They bolted
in panic. Men and horses ran in every direction. He put his heels to his horse.

The sound of frantic voices faded behind him. His face was wet with mist and tears as he ran his
horse into the blackness

CHAPTER 4

7
ZEDD LAY AWAKE IN the early dawn light, his mind filled with troubling thoughts. Clouds had
gathered during the night, and it looked to be a wet journey ahead. Kahlan lay on her side, facing
toward him, close to him, breathing slowly in a deep sleep. Chase was off somewhere on watch.

The world was coming apart, and he felt helpless. A leaf in the wind. He thought that somehow,
being a wizard, after all these years, he should have some control of events. Yet he was hardly
more than a bystander, watching others being hurt, killed, while he tried to guide those who could
make a difference, to do what needed to be done.

As a Wizard of the First Order, he knew better than to go to D'Hara, and yet what else could he do?
He had to go if there was any chance of rescuing Richard. In three days, it would be the first day of
winter. Darken Rahl had only two boxes; he was going to die. If they didn't get Richard out of
there, Darken Rahl would kill him first.

He thought again of the encounter with Darken Rahl the day before. Try as he might, he couldn't
understand it. It was bizarre in the extreme. Rahl had obviously been frantic to find the box, so
frantic that he didn't kill him when he had the chance. The wizard who had killed his father, the one
he had been searching for, and when he found him, he did nothing. But his other behavior defied
sense.

The sight of him wearing Richard's sword gave Zedd chills. Why would Darken Rahl, master of the
magic of both worlds, be wearing the Sword of Truth? More to the point, what had he done to
Richard to get the sword from him?

The most disturbing behavior had been when he held the sword to Kahlan. Zedd had never felt
more helpless in his life. It was stupid to try to use wizard's pain on him. Those with the gift, and
who had survived the test of pain, could survive the touch. But what was he to do? To see Darken
Rahl holding the Sword of Truth at her throat gave him pain, the worst kind of pain. For a moment,
he had been sure Rahl was going to kill her, and then the next moment, before Zedd had a chance to
do anything, futile as it would have been, Rahl got tears in his eyes, and put the sword away. Why
would Darken Rahl bother to use the sword, if he wanted to kill her, or any of them for that matter?
He could kill any of them with a snap of his fingers. Why would he want to use the sword? And
why then stop?

Worse, though, was that he had made the blade turn white. When Zedd had seen that, he had almost
parted company with his skin. The prophecies spoke of the one who would turn the Sword of Truth
white. Spoke with great caution. That it would be Darken Rahl gave him a fright to his very core. That it might have been Richard who would turn the sword white had caused him a dread all its
own, but for it to be Rahl . . .

The veil, the prophecies called it, the veil between the world of life and the underworld. If the veil
was torn by the magic of Orden, through an agent, the prophecies foretold, only the one who had
turned the Sword of Truth white could restore it. Unless he was able to, the underworld would be
loosed on the world of the living.

The word agent had terrible significance that worried Zedd greatly. It could mean that Darken Rahl
was not acting on his own, but was an agent. An agent of the underworld. That he had gained
mastery of the subtractive magic, the underworld magic, implied that he was. It also implied that
even if Rahl failed, and was killed, the magic of Orden would still tear the veil. Zedd tried not to
think of what these prophecies meant. The idea of the underworld being loosed made his throat
clench shut. Better for him to be dead first. Better for everyone to be dead first.

Zedd rolled his head to the side, watching Kahlan sleep. The Mother Confessor. The last of the
ones created by the old wizards. His heart ached for her pain, ached because he hadn't been able to
help her when Rahl held the sword at her throat; ached for what she felt for Richard, and for what
he couldn't tell her.

If only it had not been Richard. Anyone but Richard. Nothing was ever easy.

Zedd sat up in a rush. Something was wrong. It was too light out for Chase not to be balk. With a
finger to Kahlan's forehead, Zedd brought her wide awake.

Kahlan reflected his worry in her face. "What is it?" she whispered.

Zedd sat still, feeling for life around him. "Chase isn't back, and he should be."

She looked about. "Maybe he fell asleep." Zedd lifted an eyebrow. "Well, maybe there is a good
reason. Maybe it's nothing."

"Our horses are gone." '

Kahlan came to her feet, checking her knife. "Can you sense where he is?"

Zedd flinched. "There are others about. Others touched by the underworld."

He jumped to his feet. As he did, Chase, having been pushed, stumbled and fell face first into the
camp. His arms were tied securely behind his back, and there was blood on him. A lot of blood. He
groaned in the dirt. Zedd felt the presence of men around them. Four men. He recoiled at what he
felt of them.

The big man who had pushed Chase stepped forward. His short blond hair stood up in spikes, and a
black streak ran back through it. His cold eyes, his smile, sent a chill through the wizard.

Kahlan was in a half crouch. "Demmin Nass," she hissed.

He hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Ah. You've heard of me, Mother Confessor." His wicked smile
widened. "I've certainly heard of you. Your friend here has killed five of my best men

I'll execute him later, after the festivities. I'd like him to the have the enjoyment of watching what
we do to you."

Kahlan looked about as three other men, not as big as Demmin Nass, but bigger than Chase,
stepped out of the woods. They were surrounded, but that was not a problem for a wizard. Each of
the men was blond-haired, heavily muscled, and covered in sweat despite the chill to the air. Chase
had obviously given them trouble. For now, their weapons were put away; they had no fear of their
control of the situation.

Their confidence irritated Zedd. Their grins made him furious. The early light made the four pairs
of blue eyes all the more penetrating.

Zedd knew very well that this was a quad, and he knew very well what it was that quads did to
Confessors. Very well. His blood boiled at the knowing. There was no way he was going to let that
happen to Kahlan. Not as long as he was alive.

Demmin Nass and Kahlan stared at one another.

"Where is Richard? What has Rahl done with him?" she demanded.

"Who?„

She gritted her teeth. "The Seeker."

Demmin smiled. "Well now, that is Master Rahl's and my business. Not your."

"Tell me," she glared.

His smiled widened. "You have more important things to wont' about right now, Confessor. You
are about to give my men a very good time. I want you to keep your mind on that, and make sure
they enjoy themselves. The Seeker does not concern you."

Zedd decided that it was time to stop this, before something more happened. He brought his hands
up, and released the most powerful paralysis web he could marshal. The camp lit with a loud crack
of green light as it flashed in four directions at once, toward each of the blue-eyed men. The green
light hit each man with a hard thud.

Before the wizard had time to react, things went terribly wrong.

As fast as the green light hit them, it reflected back from each. Too late, Zedd realized that they
were protected by a spell of some sort-an underworld spell that he hadn't been able to see. From
four directions at once, the green light hit him. His own web paralyzed him in place. He was frozen
tight as stone. Helpless. Try as he might, he could not move.

Demmin Nass took his thumb out of his belt. "Problem, old man?"

Kahlan, a look of rage on her face, stretched her arm out and planted her hand against his smooth
chest. Zedd braced for the release of her power, for the thunder with no sound.

It didn't come.

By the look of surprise on Kahlan's face, he knew it should have.

Demmin Nass brought his fist down and broke her arm.

Kahlan fell to her knees with a cry of pain. She came back up with her knife in her other hand,
slashing at the man before her. He grabbed her hair with his fist, holding her away. She drove the
knife up into the arm that held her. He pulled the knife out and twisted it from her hand. With a
toss, he stuck it in a tree. Holding her by the hair, he backhanded her across the face a few times.
She kicked and clawed and screamed at him- while he chuckled. The other three closed in.

"Sorry, Mother Confessor, I'm afraid you're not my type. But not to worry, these fellows here will
be only too happy to do the honors. Try to wiggle your bottom, though,'." he sneered. "I'll enjoy
that much of it."

Demmin tossed her by her hair to the other three. They shoved her back and forth among them,
slapping her, hitting her, spinning her around roughly until she was too dizzy to stand and fell from
one pair of arms to another. She was as helpless as a mouse held by three cats. Her hair fell across
her face. Kahlan swung her fist at them, too disoriented to make contact. They laughed all the
more.

One of them slammed his fist into her stomach. Kahlan doubled over, dropping to her knees,
convulsed in pain. Another lifted her by her hair. The third ripped the buttons off the front of her
shirt. They threw her violently back and forth, tearing her shirt, yanking it off with each throw.
When it pulled over her broken arm, she screamed in pain.

. Zedd couldn't even shake with the rage storming through him

He couldn't even close his eyes against the sight of it, close his hearing against the sound of it.
Painful memories of having seen this before overlaid themselves on the reality of what was
happening now. He couldn't breathe with the pain of those memories. He couldn't breathe with the
pain of what was happening now. He would have given his life to free himself. He wished she
wouldn't fight them; it was only going to make it worse. But he knew Confessors always fought it.
Fought it with everything they had. And what she had, he knew, was not going to be enough.

From the prison of his body, as if frozen into stone, Zedd railed against his helplessness with
everything he had, every spell, every trick, every power he possessed. It was not enough. He felt
tears running down his cheeks.

Kahlan screamed when one of the men tossed her by her broken arm into the powerful arms of the
other two. With her lips pulled back over gritted teeth, she twisted and kicked against them while
they held her tight by her arms and hair. The third man unbuckled her belt and tore open the
buttons. She spat at him, screamed curses at him. He laughed as he yanked and pulled her pants
down her legs, stripping them inside out over her feet. The other two had their arms full holding
her; she was almost more than they could handle. Had her arm not been broken, they might not
have been able to hold her. One of them twisted it brutally, making her scream.

The two holding her jerked her head back by her hair while the third put his lips and teeth to her
neck, biting her. Pawing her with one hand, he undid his belt and unfastened his pants with the
other. He put his mouth over hers, suffocating her screams while his thick fingers moved from her
breasts to the darkness between her legs.

His pants dropped, his leg forced her thighs open. She grunted against his mouth with the effort of
trying to prevent what he was doing, but she could not. His thick fingers groped and wormed into
her. Her eyes opened wide. Her face was red with rage, her breast heaved with ire.

"Put her on the ground and hold her down," he growled.

Kahlan's knee came up into his groin. He doubled over with a groan while the other two laughed.
There was fire in his eyes as he straightened. His fist cut her lip open. Blood gushed over her chin.

Chase, his arms still tired securely behind him, crashed headfirst into the man's middle. They both
fell to the ground, the pants around the man's ankles tripping him up, and before he could react,
Chase clamped his thighs around the man's thick neck. His blue eyes bulged. The boundary warden
rolled onto his side, pulling the head back sharply. There was a loud pop, and the man went limp.

Demmin Nass kicked Chase in the ribs and head, until he didn't move anymore.

Seemingly from midair, fur and fangs landed on Nass. The wolf growled savagely as he tore at the
big man. They tumbled to the ground, rolling. over in the dirt, through the fire. A knife flashed
through the air. _

"No!" Kahlan screamed. "Brophy! No! Get away!"

It was too late. The knife slashed into the wolf with a sickening thud as the fist holding it slammed
against the ribs. Over and over, Nass tore the wolf open. In moments, it was over. Brophy lay
sprawled on the ground, his fur matted with blood. His legs jerked a little, then were still.

Kahlan hung by her arms and hair, crying and sobbing the wolf's name.

Nass came to his feet, panting from the effort of the short but fierce fight. Blood ran from wounds
on his chest and arm. Anger flared in his eyes.

"Make her pay," he hissed to the two men holding her. "Do her good."

Kahlan struggled and twisted against them. "What's the matter, Demmin?" she screamed. "Not man
enough to do it yourself? Have to have real men do it for you?"

Please, Kahlan, Zedd begged silently in his mind, please, keep your mouth shut. Please, don't say
anything else.

Nass's face heated to red. His chest heaved. He glared at her.

"At least these are real men! At least they have what it takes to handle a woman! You probably
don't! You only have enough for little boys! What's the matter, little boy? Afraid to show a real
woman what you have? I'll be laughing at you while real men do what you can't!" Nass took a step
closer, his teeth gritted. "Shut up, bitch."

She spat in his face. "That's what your father would do if he knew you couldn't handle a woman.
You're a disgrace to your father's name!"

Zedd wondered if Kahlan had lost her mind. He had absolutely no idea why she was doing this. If
she wanted to provoke Nass to do worse, this would do it.

Nass looked as if he might explode, but then his face relaxed, his smiled returned. He looked
around and saw what he wanted.

"Over there," he pointed. "Hold her face down over that log." He put his face close to hers. "You
want it from me? All right, bitch, you'll get it from me. But you'll get it my way. Now we'll see how
good you can squirm."

Kahlan's face was crimson with fury. "I think your talk is all that's big! I think you're going to
embarrass yourself. Your men and I will have a good laugh. Once again, they will have to do the
job for you." Her mouth spread into a defiant smile. "I'm waiting, little boy. Do it to me like your
father did it to you, so we can all have a good laugh, thinking about you on your knees under him.
Show me how he did it to you."

The veins on his forehead threatened to burst; his eyeballs bulged. Nass's hand sprang to her throat,
tightening, lifting her. He shook with rage. His grip tightened, choking her.

"Commander Nass," one of the men cautioned in a low voice, "you're going to kill her."

Demmin looked up, glaring at the man, but then relaxed his grip. He looked back to Kahlan: "What
does a bitch like you know of anything?"

"I know you're a liar. I know your master wouldn't let a little boy like you know what had been
done with the Seeker. You know nothing. You couldn't tell me because you don't know, and you're
so worthless you couldn't even admit it."

So that was it. Zedd understood. Kahlan knew she was going to die, and was willing to trade
whatever worse Nass could do to her for knowing if Richard was all right. She didn't want to die
without knowing if he was safe. The enormity of what was happening made tears roll down Zedd's
face. He heard Chase stir at his feet.

Nass released her throat and motioned to the two men to let go of her. In a sudden burst he struck
her with his fist. She landed flat on her back. He leaned over, lifting her by her hair as if she
weighed nothing.

"You know nothing! Your fist says it all. Your master might tell your father," she sneered, "but he
wouldn't tell your father's little girl anything."

"All right. All right, I'll tell you. It will make it more fun when I'm on you, to have you know what
we do to little pests like the Seeker. Then maybe you'll understand you waste your time fighting
us."

Kahlan stood naked in front of him, her face red with anger. She was not a small woman, but she
looked small in front of Demmin Nass. She breathed hard as she waited, one fist at her side, the
other arm hanging limp, blood down the front of her.

"Almost a month ago, an artist drew a spell, so the Seeker could be captured. He killed the artist,
but he was captured anyway. Captured by a Mord-Sith."

The color drained from Kahlan's face. She turned white as a lily.

Zedd felt as if he had been stabbed through the heart. If it had been possible, he would have
collapsed to the ground in agony.

"No," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Yes," he mocked. "And a particularly nasty Mord-Sith at that. One by the name of Denna. Even I
give this one a wide berth. She is the favorite of Master Rahl, because of her . . ." He grinned. ". . .
talents. From what I have heard, she outdid herself on the Seeker. I even saw her myself one day, at
dinner, covered from head to foot with his blood."

Kahlan shook slightly, her eyes wet, and Zedd was sure she turned even whiter.

"But he is still alive," she whispered in a broken voice.

Demmin gave a self-satisfied smile, happy with the telling, at seeing her reaction. "As a matter of
fact, Mother Confessor, the last I saw of the Seeker, he was on his knees in front of Master Rahl,
with Denna's Agiel at the back of his head. I don't think he even knew his own name. Master Rahl
wasn't happy at the time. When Master Rahl is unhappy people always die. From what Master Rahl
said to me when I left, I'm sure the Seeker never rose from his knees. His corpse is rotten by now."
Zedd wept that he couldn't comfort her, that she couldn't comfort him.

Kahlan went dead calm.

Her arms rose slowly into the air, her fists to the sky. Her head rolled back.

She let out an unearthly scream. It went through Zedd like a thousand needles of ice, it echoed
against the hills, through the valleys, against the trees all around, making them vibrate. Zedd's
breath was taken away. Nass and the other two men stumbled back a few paces.

If he had not already been frozen to stone, he would be now, at the fear of what she was doing.
Kahlan should not be able to do this.

She took a deep breath, her fists getting tighter, tears streaming from her face.

Kahlan screamed again. Long, piercing, otherworldly. The sound avalanched through the air.
Pebbles danced on the ground. Water danced in the lakes around. The very air danced, and began to
move. The men covered their ears. Zedd would have, too, had he been able to move.

She took another deep breath. Her back arched as she stretched to the sky.

The third scream was worse. The magic of it tore through the fabric of the air. Zedd felt as if it
would pull his body apart. The air began to turn about her, dust rising at its passing.

Darkness began to gather, the magic of the scream taking the very light away, pulling the darkness
as it was pulling the wind. Light and dark moved around the Mother Confessor as she released
ancient magic into the scream.

Zedd nearly choked with the fear of what she was doing. He had seen this being done only once
before, and it came to no good end. She was joining the Confessor's magic, the additive, the love,
with its counterpart from the underworld, the subtractive, the hate.

Kahlan stood screaming in the center of a maelstrom. The light was sucked to her. Darkness fell all
about. Where Zedd stood, it was black as night. The only light was around Kahlan. Night around
day.

Lightning tore violently across the blackness of the sky, flashing rapidly in every direction, forking,
doubling, over and over until the sky burned. Thunder rolled through the countryside, coalescing
into a continuous fury, mixing with the scream, becoming part of it.

The ground shook. The scream went beyond sound, to something else entirely. All about, the
ground cracked open in jagged, ferocious tears. Shafts of violet light shot upward -from the cracks.
The bluish purple curtains of light vibrated, danced, and with gathering speed were pulled into the
vortex, sucked to Kahlan. She was a glowing form of light in a sea of darkness. She was the only
thing in existence; all else was nothingness, devoid even of light. Zedd could see nothing but
Kahlan.

There was a horrific impact to the air all about. In a brief, tremendous flash of light, Zedd saw the
trees around them suddenly stripped of pine needles, as every one of them was blown back in a
cloud of green. A wall of dust and sand hit his face, feeling as if it would take the skin from his
bones in its explosive passing.

The ferocity of the concussion tore the darkness away. The light was returned.

The joining was complete.

Zedd saw Chase standing next to him, watching, his aims still tied behind his back. Boundary
wardens, Zedd thought, were tougher than they had a right to be.

Pale blue light coalesced into a jagged egg shape around her, gathered in intensity, purpose, and
somehow, violence. Kahlan turned. One arm, the broken one, came down to her side. The other arm
stopped halfway down, her fist reaching toward the wizard. The blue light bled from the ring that
surrounded her into one spot, where her fist was. It seemed to fuse and in a sudden release, blasted
in a line of light through the space between them.

With a solid strike, it hit him, lighting him at contact, as if he were connected to Kahlan by a thread
of living light. It bathed him in the pale blue .glow. The wizard felt the familiar touch of additive
magic and the unfamiliar tingle of the subtractive, underworld magic. He was thrown back a step;
the web that held him shattered. He was free. The line of light extinguished itself

Zedd turned to Chase and parted the ropes with a quick spell. Chase gave a grunt of pain at having
his arms free.

"Zedd," he whispered, "what in the name of the prophets is going on? What has she done?"

Kahlan ran her fingers through the pale blue light that vibrated around her, stroking it, caressing it,
bathing in it. Demmin Nass and one of his men watched her, but held their ground, waiting. Her
eyes gazed at things they couldn't see. Her eyes were in another world. Her eyes, Zedd knew, were
seeing the memory of Richard.

"It's called the Con Dar. The Blood Rage." Zedd looked slowly from Kahlan to the boundary
warden. "It's something only a few of the strongest Confessors can do. And she should not be able
to do it at all."

Chase frowned. "Why not?".

"Because it must be taught by her real mother; only the mother can teach how to bring it on, if there
be call enough. It's an ancient magic, ancient as the Confessor's magic, part of it, but rarely used. It
can only be taught after the daughter reaches a certain age. 'Kahlan's mother died before she could
teach her. Adie told me. Kahlan should not be able to do this. Yet she has. That she could do it
without having been taught, by instinct and desire alone, speaks to very dangerous things in the
prophecies."

"Well, why didn't she do it before? Why didn't she put a stop to what was happening before now?"

"A Confessor can't invoke it for herself, only on behalf of another. She has invoked it on behalf of
Richard. On the rage at his murder. We are in a great deal of trouble."

"Why?„

"The Con Dar is invoked for vengeance. Confessors who invoke it rarely survive; they give their
lives over to the goal, give their lives to carry out the vengeance. Kahlan is going to use her power
on Darken Rahl."

Chase stared in shock. "You told me her power can't touch him, can't take him."

"It couldn't before. I don't know if it can now, but I doubt it. Nonetheless, she is going to try. She is
in the grip of the Con Dar, the Blood Rage. She doesn't care if she dies. She is going to try, she is
going to touch Darken Rahl even if it's futile, even if it kills her. If anyone gets in her way, she will
kill them. Without a second thought." He put his face closer to Chase to make his point. "That
includes us."

Kahlan was curled almost into a ball against the ground, her head bowed, her hands on opposite
shoulders, the pale blue light tight around her. She stretched slowly to her feet, pushing through the
light, as if she were emerging from an egg. She stood naked, blood still throbbing from her wounds.
Blood, still wet and fresh, dripped from her chin.

But her face showed the pain of wounds other than the ones on her body. And then even that
expression was gone, and she showed nothing but a Confessor's face.

Kahlan turned a little, to one of the two men who had held her. The other one was nowhere to be
seen. She calmly lifted a hand toward him. He was a dozen feet away.

There was an impact to the air, ,thunder with no sound. Zedd felt the pain in his bones.

"Mistress!" the man called out as he fell to his knees. "What do you command of me? What do you
wish of me?"

She regarded him coolly. "I wish for you to die for me. Right now."

He convulsed and fell over, face first, into the dirt, dead. Kahlan turned and stepped to Demmin
Nass. He had a smile on his face; his arms were folded. Kahlan's broken arm hung at her side. She
put her other hand against his chest with a sharp slap. The hand stayed there as their eyes locked
together. He towered over her.

"Very impressive, bitch. But not only have you used your power, I am also protected by Master
Rahl's spell. You cannot touch me with your power. You still have a lesson to learn, and I'm going
to teach you as I have never taught anyone before." His hand came up and grabbed her tangled,
matted hair. "Bend over."

Kahlan's face showed no emotion. She said nothing.

There was an impact to the air, thunder with no sound. Again, Zedd felt the ache of it in his bones.
Demmin Nass's eyes went wide. His mouth fell open.

"Mistress!" he whispered.

Chase leaned over. "How did she do that! She wasn't even touching the first one, and Confessors
can only use their power once, and then must rest and recover it!"

"Not anymore. She is in the Con Dar."

"Stand there and wait," she said to Nass.

With graceful smoothness, Kahlan walked to the wizard. She stopped, and lifted her broken arm to
him.

Her eyes had a glaze to them. "Fix this for me, please. I need it."

Zedd took his eyes from hers and looked down at the arm. He reached out and took it gently,
speaking softly to distract her mind from the pain while he gripped above and below the break,
pulling, setting the bone. She didn't cry out, or even flinch. He wondered if she even felt it.
Tenderly, his fingers surrounded the damage, letting the warmth of the magic flow into her, taking
the cold pain into himself, feeling it, suffering with it, tolerating it with resolve.

His breathing stopped momentarily with the sharpness of the hurt. He felt all of her hurt; it mixed
with his own pain, threatening to overwhelm him, until he was able to put it down at last. He felt
the bone knit together, and added more magic to protect and strengthen it until it could heal the rest
of the way on its own. He removed his hands from her at last, finished. Her green eyes came up to
his, and the cold anger in them was frightening.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Wait here."

She returned to Demmin Nass, who stood where he had been told to wait.

There were tears in his eyes. "Please, Mistress, command me."

Kahlan pulled a knife from his belt, ignoring his request. With her other hand she unfastened the
flanged battle mace from its hook. "Take off your pants." She waited until he had pulled them off
and stood once more before her. "Kneel."

The coldness of her voice sent a shiver through Zedd as he watched the big man kneel before her.

Chase grabbed a fistful of his robes. "Zedd, we have to stop her! She's going to kill him! We need
information. Once he tells us what we need to know, then she can do whatever she wants, but not
until we question him first!"

Zedd gave him a stern look. "As much as I agree with you, there is nothing we can do. If we
interfere, she will kill us. If you take two steps toward her, she will kill you before you can take

the third. A Confessor in the Blood Rage cannot be reasoned

with. It's like trying to reason with a thunderstorm it will only

get you hit by lightning." "

Chase released the wizard's robes with a frustrated huff and folded his arms in resignation. Kahlan
turned the mace around, holding the handle down to Nass.

"Hold this for me."

He took it and held it at his side. Kahlan kneeled down in front of him, close.

"Spread your legs," she ordered in an icy voice. She reached down between his legs, gripping him
in one hand. He flinched, grimaced. "Don't move," she warned. He became still. "How many of the
little boys you've molested have you killed?"

"I don't know, Mistress, I don't keep count. I've done it for many years, since I was young. I don't
always kill them. Most live."

"Make a good guess."

He thought a moment. "More than eighty. Less than one hundred twenty."

Zedd could see a glint off the knife as she put it under him. Chase unfolded his arms and stood up
straighter, his jaw muscles tightening when he heard what Demmin Nass had done.

"I'm going to cut these off. When I do, I don't want you to make a sound," she whispered. "Not one
sound. Don't even flinch."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Look into my eyes. I wish to see it in your eyes."

Her arm with the knife strained, and jerked up. The blade came up red.

Demmin's knuckles around the mace were white.

The Mother Confessor rose to her feet in front of him. "Hold out your hand."

Demmin held a shaking hand before her. She put the bloody sack in his palm.

"Eat them."

Chase smiled as he watched. "Good for her," he whispered to no one in particular. "A woman who
knows the meaning of justice." She stood before him, watching, until he finished. She tossed the
knife aside. "Give me the mace."

He handed it up. "Mistress, I am losing a lot of blood. I don't know if I can remain upright."

"It will displease me greatly if you don't. Just hold on. It won't be long."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Was what you told me about Richard, the Seeker, true?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Kahlan's voice was deadly calm. "All of it?"

Demmin thought a moment, to be sure. "All that I told you, Mistress."

"There is some you did not tell me?"

"Yes, Mistress. I did not tell you that Mord-Sith Denna also took him as her mate. I presume so that
she might hurt him more."

There was an eternity of silence. Kahlan stood motionless over Demmin. Zedd could hardly breathe
with the pain, could hardly breath past the lump in his throat. His knees shook.

Kahlan's voice came so soft, Zedd could hardly hear it. "And you are sure he is dead?"

"I did not see him killed, Mistress. But I am sure."

"Why is that?"

"It looked to me as if Master Rahl was in the mood to kill him, and even if he didn't, Denna would
have. That is what Mord-Sith do. Mates of Mord-Sith do not live this long: I was surprised he was
still alive when I left him. He looked to be in bad shape. I have not seen a man have the Agiel put
to the base of his skull that many times and still be alive.

"He cried your name. The only reason Denna hadn't allowed him to die before that day was because
Master Rahl wanted to talk to him first. While I did not see it with my own eyes, Mistress, I am
sure. Denna held him with the magic of his sword, there could be no escape for him. She had him
for a lot longer than is usual, she hurt him more than is usual, she held him on the cusp between life
and death longer than is usual. I have never seen a man last as long as he had. For some reason,
Master Rahl wanted the Seeker to suffer a long time, which is why he chose Denna; none enjoy it
more than her, none have her talent for prolonging the pain, the others don't know how to keep their
pets alive that long. If nothing else, he would be dead now from being the mate of a Mord-Sith. He
could not have survived until now."

Zedd sank to his knees, his heart breaking with agony. He cried with the pain. He felt as if his
world had ended. He didn't want to go on. He wanted to die. What had he done? How could he
have allowed Richard to be pulled into this? Richard, of all people. Now he knew why Rahl hadn't
killed him when he had had the chance; he wanted Zedd to suffer first. That was the way of a Rahl.

Chase squatted down next to him and put his arm around him. "I'm sorry, Zedd," he whispered.
"Richard was my friend, too. I'm so sorry."

"Look at me," Kahlan said, the mace held high in both her hands.

Nass's eyes came up to hers. She brought the mace down with all her strength. With a sickening
sound, it buried in his forehead, stuck solid, tearing from her hands as he went down, limp and
fluid, as if he had no bones.

Zedd forced himself to stop crying and come to his feet as she walked toward them, picking up a tin
bowl from a pack along the way.

She handed the bowl to Chase. "Fill this half full with poison berries from a bloodthroat bush."

Chase looked at the bowl, a little confused. "Now?"

"Yes."

He noticed the warning in Zedd's eyes, and stiffened. "All right." He turned starting to leave, but
turned back, taking his heavy black cloak off, putting it around her shoulders, covering her
nakedness. "Kahlan . . ." He stared at her, finally unable to bring forth the words, and went off to
his task.

Kahlan gazed fixedly, vacantly, at nothing. Zedd put his arm around her and sat her down on a
bedroll. He retrieved what was left of her shirt, ripping it into strips, which he wet with water from
a skin. As she sat without protest, he cleaned the blood off her, applied salve to some of her wounds
and magic to others. She endured it without comment. When he finished, he put his fingers under
her chin, lifting her eyes to his

Zedd spoke softly. "He did not die for nothing, dear one. He found the box, he has saved everyone.
Remember him for doing what no other could have."

Light mist from the thick clouds that hugged the ground began to dampen their faces. "I will
remember only that I love him, and that I could never tell him."

Zedd closed his eyes against the pain, the burden, of being a wizard.

Chase returned, offering her the bowl of poison berries. She asked for something to crush them
with. With a few quick strokes, Chase whittled a stout stick into a shape that satisfied her and she
went to work.

She stopped as if she thought of something and looked up at the wizard, her green eyes ablaze.
"Darken Rahl is mine." It was a warning. A threat.

He nodded to her. "I know, dear one."

She went back to crushing, a few tears running down her face.

"I'm going to bury Brophy," Chase said softly to Zedd. "The others can rot."

Kahlan crushed the red berries into a paste, adding a little ash from the fire. When she was finished,
she had Zedd hold a little mirror for her while she applied it in the pattern of the Con Dar, twin
lightning bolts, the magic guiding her hand. Starting from the temple on each side, in a mirror
image of each other, the top part of each bolt zigzagged over the eyebrow, the center lobe of each
passed over an eyelid, with the bottom zigzag over the cheekbones, finally terminating in a point at
the hollow of each cheek.

The effect was frightening-and meant to be. It was a warning to the innocent. A vow to the guilty.

After she had brushed the tangles from her hair, she pulled her Confessor's dress from her pack,
took the cloak off, and slipped on the dress. Chase returned. Kahlan handed him his cloak, thanking
him.

"Wear it," Chase said, "it's warmer than yours,"

"I am the Mother Confessor. I will wear no cloak."

The boundary warden didn't argue. "The horses are gone. All of them." She gave him an indifferent
look. "Then we will walk. We will not stop at night, we will keep going. You may come if you
wish, if you do not slow me down."

Chase raised an eyebrow at the unwitting insult, but let it drop. Kahlan turned and started off
without. picking up any of her things. Chase looked over at Zedd, letting out a noisy breath.

He bent to collect his things. "I'm not leaving without my weapons."

"We better hurry before she gets too far ahead. She won't wait for us." The wizard picked up
Kahlan's pack, stuffing gear into it. "We better at least grab some of our supplies." He smoothed a
wrinkle on the pack. "Chase, I don't think we are going to return from this; the Con Dar is a suicide
venture. You have a family. There is no need for you to go."

Chase didn't look up. "What's a Mord-Sith?" he asked quietly.

The wizard swallowed hard, his hands gripping the pack so firmly they shook. "Mord-Sith are
trained from a young age in the art of torture, and the use of a merciless weapon of pain, called an
Agiel. That was the red thing hanging from Darken Rahl's neck. Mord-Sith are used against those
with magic. They have the power to take a person's magic, and use it against them." Zedd's voice
broke, "Richard would not have known that. He had no chance. The only purpose in life for a
Mord-Sith, the only thing they live for, is to torture to death those with magic."

Chase rammed a fistful of blanket into the pack. "I'm going."

Zedd nodded his understanding. "I will be glad for your company."

"Are these Mord-Sith a danger to us?"

"Not to you, you have no magic, and not to wizards, I have protection."

"What about to Kahlan."

Zedd shook his head. "A Confessor's magic is different from any other. The touch of a Confessor's
magic is death to a Mord-Sith. A very bad death. I saw it once. I don't want to ever see it again."
Zedd's eyes glided over the bloody mess, thinking of what they had done to Kahlan, and what they
almost did. "I guess," he whispered, "I have seen a lot of things I wish to never see again."

As Zedd hoisted Kahlan's pack to his shoulder, there was an impact to the air, thunder with no
sound. They both ran to the trail, ran for Kahlan. They had only gone a short distance when they
found the last man, sprawled across the way where he had lain in wait. His own sword jutted from
his chest. Both his hands held the hilt in a death grip.

They both kept running until they caught up with her. She strode purposefully along, eyes ahead,
disinterested in what was about her. Her Confessor's dress flowed and flapped behind her like a
flame in wind. Zedd had always thought Confessors looked beautiful in their dresses, especially the
white of the Mother Confessor.

But he saw it now for what it really was. Battle armor

CHAPTER 4

8
WATER FROM THE DRIZZLE collecting on Richard's face ran down his nose, hanging in a drip
at the end, tickling. He angrily wiped it off. He was so tired that he hardly knew what he was doing
anymore. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't find Kahlan, and Zedd, and Chase.
He had searched relentlessly, going down endless trails and roads, back and forth, crisscrossing his
way toward the People's Palace, and had not seen a sign of them. There were trails and paths
everywhere, and he knew he had searched only a fraction of them. He had stopped only for a few
hours at night, mostly to rest the horse, and then he had sometimes searched on foot. Since he had
left his brother, the clouds had hung low and thick, limiting visibility. He was furious that they had
to come now, when he needed Scarlet more than ever.

He felt that everything was conspiring against him, that the fates did indeed work for Darken Rahl.
Rahl would have Kahlan by now. It was too late; she must be in the People's Palace by now.

He urged the horse up the mountain trail, through stands of big spruce that grew on the steep
ground. Spongy moss muffled the passing of the horse's hooves. Darkness hid nearly everything.
As he rode higher, through the mist and darkness, the trees thinned, exposing him to the cold wind
coming up the slope. It flapped his cloak and moaned in his ears. Black patches of cloud and mist
blew across the trail. Richard pulled his hood up against the elements. Although he couldn't see
anything, he knew he had reached the top of the mountain pass and was starting down the opposite
side.

It was deep in the night. The dawn would bring the first day of winter. The last day of freedom.

Finding a small shelter of overhanging rock, Richard decided to get a few hours' sleep before the
dawn that would be his last. He warily slid off the horse's wet back and tethered ii to a nearby scrub
pine that hunched among long grass. He didn't even take his pack off, but simply rolled himself in
his cloak under the rock and tried to sleep, thinking of Kahlan, thinking of what he would have to
do to keep her out of the hands of a Mord-Sith. After he finished helping Darken Rahl open the box
that would give him the power he sought, Rahl would kill him. Despite Darken Rahl's assurance
that Richard Would be free to go about his life, what life could he have after he was touched by
Kahlan's power?

Besides, he knew Rahl was lying. Rahl intended to kill him. He hoped only that his death would be
quick. He knew his decision to help Darken Rahl meant that Zedd would die, too, but it meant that
many more would live. Live under the brutal rule of Darken Rahl, but live nonetheless. Richard
couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for everyone and everything dying. Rahl had told the
truth about Richard being betrayed, and he probably was telling the truth about knowing which box
would kill him. Even if he was lying, Richard couldn't risk everyone on that one chance. Richard
had run out of options; he had no choice but to help Darken Rahl.

His ribs still hurt from what Denna had done to him. It was still hard to lie down, and still hurt to
breathe. His sleep brought the nightmares he had had every night since leaving the People's Palace,
the nightmares of the things Denna had done to him, the nightmares he had promised her he would
have. He dreamed of hanging helpless while Denna hurt him, of being powerless to stop her, of
never being able to escape. He dreamed of Michael standing there, watching. He dreamed of seeing
Kahlan being tortured, and Michael watching that, too.

He came awake drenched in sweat, shaking with fear, heard himself whimpering with the terror of
the dreams. Sunlight was slanting sideways under the overhang of the rock. The orange sun was
just breaking above the horizon to the east.

Richard stood and stretched the cramps from his muscles, surveying the dawn of the first day of
winter. He was high on a mountain. The surrounding peaks thrust themselves above a blanket of
clouds below that stretched off before him, to the eastern horizon, like a sea of gray tinged in
orange.

The sea of clouds was unbroken except for one thing-the People's Palace. Touched by the sunlight,
in the far distance, it rose proud on its plateau, standing above the clouds, waiting for him. A cold
feeling ran through his gut; it was a long way off. He had misjudged how far he was from it; it was
a lot farther than he had thought. He had no time to waste. When the sun was at its zenith, the boxes
could be opened.

As he turned, movement caught his eye. The horse let out a terrified neigh. Howls split the morning
silence. Heart hounds.

Richard drew his sword as they poured over the rock. Before he could start for the horse, the
hounds took it down. In a dead run, more came for him. Frozen in shock for only an instant, he
leapt up onto the rock he had slept under. The hounds, teeth snapping, bounded up the rock toward
him. He cut down the first wave, then retreated farther up the rock as more hounds came for him.
Richard swung the sword, cutting through them as they advanced, snarling and howling.

It was like a sea of tan fur, coming for him in waves. Frantically, he slashed and stabbed at them,
trying to back away at the same time. Hounds came over the rock behind. He jumped to the side as
the two groups crashed together, tearing at each other for the chance to be the first to get at his
heart.

Richard climbed higher, fighting the beasts back, killing any that got close enough. It was a futile
effort, he knew; there were more than he would be able to hold back. He released himself into the
anger of the sword's magic, fighting with fury as he advanced into their ranks. He couldn't fail
Kahlan, not now. The air seemed filled with yellow teeth, all coming for him. Blood from the
killing was everywhere. The world turned to red.

And then it turned to flame.

Fire erupted all about. Hounds howled in mortal pain. The dragon roared in anger. Scarlet's shadow
swept over him. Richard's sword cut through the hounds that came close enough. The air smelled of
blood and burning fur.

Scarlet's claw gripped him around the middle, lifting him away from the leaping, snapping beasts.
Richard panted in exhaustion from the fierce fight as the dragon flew to a clearing on another
mountain. She set him gently on the ground and landed.

Richard, nearly in tears, threw his arms against her red scales, stroking them, and laid his head
against her "Thank you, my friend. You have saved my life. You have saved many lives. You are a
dragon of honor."

"I made a bargain, that is all." She snorted a puff of smoke. "Besides, someone has to help you; you
can't seem to stay out of trouble on your own."

Richard smiled. "You are the most beautiful beast I have ever seen." Still panting as he tried to
catch his breath, he pointed to the plateau. "Scarlet, I need to get to the People's Palace. Will you
take me? Please?"

"You didn't find your friends? Your brother?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "My brother has betrayed me. Betrayed me, and everyone, to
Darken Rahl. I wish people had half the honor of dragons."

Scarlet gave a grumble, vibrating the scales on her throat. "I'm sorry, Richard Cypher. Climb on. I
will take you."

The dragon made slow, steady strokes of her wings, lifting him above the sea of clouds that
covered the Azrith Plains, carrying him to the last place in the world he would wish to go, had he a
choice. The journey, which would have taken him a good part of the day on a horse, took less than
an hour on the dragon. She folded her wings back, diving toward the plateau. The wind tore at his
clothes as she plunged downward. From the air, Richard could see how big the People's Palace
really was. It was hard to believe it had been made by men; it seemed beyond even a dream. It was
like the biggest of cities, all melted together into one complex.

Scarlet flew once around the plateau, past towers, walls, and roofs. They flashed past in endless
variety, making him dizzy. She lifted over the outer wall, and swooped down into a vast courtyard,
fluttering her wings to stop their descent. There were no guards, no people, to be seen.

Richard slid down her red scales, landing on his feet with a thump. She swept her head about, then
tilted it down, gazing at him. Her ears swiveled forward.

"Are you sure you want me to leave you here?" Richard nodded, casting his eyes to the ground.
Scarlet snorted. "Then the six days are at an end. Our bargain is at an end. The next time

I see you, you will be fair game."

Richard smiled up at her. "Fair enough, my friend. But you'll not get the chance. Today, I am going
to die."

Scarlet watched him with one yellow eye. "Try not to let that happen, Richard Cypher. I would still
like to eat you."

Richard's smile widened as he rubbed a glossy scale. "Take care of your little dragon, when it
hatches. I wish I had had a chance to see it. It will be beautiful too, I know. I realize you hate flying
men about, because it's against your will, but thanks for letting me know the joy of flying. I
considered it a privilege."

She nodded. "I like flying too." She let out a puff of smoke. "You are a rare man, Richard Cypher. I
have never seen one the match of you:"

"I am the Seeker. The last Seeker."

She gave another nod of her big head. "Take care, Seeker. You have the gift. Use it. Use everything
you have to fight. Don't give in. Don't let him rule you. If you are to die, die fighting with
everything you have, everything you know. That is the way of a dragon."

"If it were only that easy." Richard looked up at the red dragon. "Scarlet, before the boundary came
down, did you carry Darken Rahl into Westland?"

She gave a nod. "A number of times."

"Where did you take him?"

"To a house, bigger than the other houses. It was made of white stone, with slate roofs. One time, I
took him to another. A simple house. He killed a man there. I heard the screams. And once to
another simple house."

Michael's house. And his father's. And his own.

With the pain of hearing it, Richard looked down at his feet, nodding. "Thanks, Scarlet." He fought
back the lump in his throat, and looked back up. "If Darken Rahl ever tries to rule you again, I hope
your little dragon will be safe, and you will be able to fight to the death. You are too noble to be
ruled."

Scarlet gave a dragon's grin and lifted into the air. Richard watched as she circled overhead,
looking down at him. Her head turned to the west and the rest of her followed. Richard watched a
few minutes as she became smaller in the distance. He turned to the palace.

Richard eyed the guards at an entrance, prepared for a fight, but they only gave a polite nod. A
guest returning. The vast halls swallowed him.

He knew the general direction of the garden room where Rahl kept the boxes, and headed that way.
For a long time, he didn't recognize the halls, but after a time, some of them started looking
familiar. He recognized the arches and columns, the devotion squares. He passed the hall where
Denna's quarters were. He didn't look down it as he walked past the intersection.

His mind was in a daze, overpowered by the decision he had made. He was overwhelmed by the
very idea of being the one who would deliver the power of Orden to Darken Rahl. He knew he
would be saving Kahlan from a worse fate, and many others from death, but he still felt like a
traitor. He wished it could be anyone but him who would help Rahl. But no one else could. Only he
had the answers Rahl needed.

He stopped at a devotion square with a pool and watched the fish gliding through the water as he
stared at the ripples. Fight with everything he knew, Scarlet had said. What would that gain him?
What would that gain anyone? The same in the end, or worse. He could gamble with his own life,
but not with everyone else's. Not with Kahlan's. He was here to help Darken Rahl, and that was
what he had to do. His mind was made up.

The bell for devotion tolled. Richard watched people gather around and bow down as they began
chanting. Two Mord-Sith dressed in red leather approached and eyed him standing there

This was no time for trouble. He went to his knees, touched his forehead to the tile, and began
chanting the devotion. Since he had already decided, there was no reason to think, and he let his
mind go empty.

"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In
your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are
yours. "

He chanted over and over, letting himself go, letting his worry go. His mind calmed as he sought
the peace within and joined with it.

A thought caught the words in his throat.

If he was going to give a devotion,- it was going to be one that meant something to him. He
changed the words.

"Kahlan guide me. Kahlan teach. me. Kahlan protect me. In your light I thrive. In your mercy I am
sheltered. In your wisdom I am humbled. I live only to love you. My life is yours."

The shock of realization made sit bolt upright on his heels, his eyes wide.

He knew what he must do.

Zedd had told him, told him that most of the. things people believed were wrong. Wizard's First
Rule. He had been the fool long enough, listened to others enough. He avoided the truth no longer.
A smile spread on his face.

He stood. He believed with all his heart. Excited, he turned, stepping among the people chanting
the devotion on their knees.

The two Mord-Sith rose. They stood grim-faced, shoulder to shoulder, blocking his way. He jerked
to a halt. The one with blond hair and blue eyes brought her Agiel up to a menacing posture,
waving it in front of him.

"No one is allowed to miss a devotion. No one."

Richard returned the threatening glare. "I am the Seeker." He lifted Denna's Agiel in his fist. "Mate
to Denna. I am the one who killed her. Killed her with the magic by which she held me. I have said
my last devotion to Father Rahl. The next move you make will determine if you live or die.
Choose."

An eyebrow lifted over a cold blue eye. The two Mord-Sith glanced at each other, then stepped
aside. Richard marched off to the Garden of Life, to Darken Rahl

-+---
Zedd warily scanned the edges as they ascended the road up the side of the plateau, the
surroundings brightening the higher they went. The three of them emerged from the fog into
midmorning sunlight. Ahead, a drawbridge began lowering, the catch on the gears clattering as the
span lowered across a chasm. Chase loosened the short sword in the scabbard over his shoulder
when the lowering bridge revealed a couple of dozen soldiers waiting on the other side. Not one of
the soldiers brought a weapon to hand, nor did they move to block the way, but stood at ease to the
side, seemingly disinterested in the three.

Kahlan gave them no notice as she strode past. Chase did. He looked like a man about to preside
over a slaughter. The guards nodded and smiled politely.

The boundary warden leaned a little closer to Zedd, but kept his eyes on the well-armed soldiers. "I
don't like this. It's too easy."

Zedd smiled. "If Darken Rahl is to kill us, he must first let us get to where we are to be killed."

Chase frowned over at the wizard. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

Zedd put his hand on Chase's shoulder. "No loss of honor, my friend. Go home, before the door
closes behind us forever."

Chase stiffened. "Not until it is done."

Zedd nodded and walked a little faster to stay close to Kahlan. When they gained the top of the
plateau, they were confronted by a huge wall stretching off to either side. The battlements at the top
were alive with men. Kahlan didn't pause, but marched toward the gate. Straining with the weight,
two guards pushed the immense doors back as she approached. She didn't lose a step as she went
through the opening in the wall.

Chase glared at the captain of the guards. "You let anyone in?"

The captain gave a surprised stare. "She is expected. By Master Rahl." Chase grunted and followed
after. "So much for our sneaking up on him."

"One does not sneak up on a wizard of Rahl's talents."

Chase grabbed Zedd's arm. "Wizard! Rahl is a wizard?"

Zedd frowned at him. "Of course. How do you suppose he is able to command magic the way he
does? He is descended from a long line of, wizards."

Chase seemed annoyed. "I thought wizards were only supposed to help people, not rule them."

Zedd let out a deep breath. "Before some of us decided to no longer interfere with the affairs of
man, wizards used to rule. There was a rift-the wizard wars, as they were known. A few on their
side survived, and continued to follow the old ways, continued to take power for themselves,
continued to rule people. Darken Rahl is a direct descendant of that line-the house of Rahl. He was
born with the gift; not all are. But he uses it only for himself; he is a person who does not bear the
burden of conscience."

Chase fell silent as they ascended a hillside of steps, passing into the shade between fluted columns,
and through an opening surrounded by carved stone vines and leaves. They entered the halls.
Chase's head swiveled about, astonished by the size, the beauty, the sheer overwhelming volume of
polished stone about them. Kahlan walked down the center of the vast hall, seeing none of it, the
folds of her dress flowing fluidly behind her, the soft sound of her boots on the stone whispering
into the cavernous distance.

People dressed in white robes strolled the halls. A few sat on marble benches, and others knelt at
squares with a stone and bell, meditating. All wore the same perpetual smile of the divinely
deluded, the peaceful countenance of those self-assured in their fantasy of certainty and
understanding. Truth was only a shifting fog to them, to be burned off by the light of their
convoluted reasoning. Followers, disciples, of Darken Rahl, one and all. Most paid the three no
attention, giving them no more than a vacant nod.

Zedd caught a glimpse of two Mord-Sith, proud in their red leather, sauntering up a side hall
toward them. When they saw Kahlan, saw the twin red lightning bolts of the Con Dar painted
across her face, the two blanched, reversed course, and quickly vanished.

The route they followed took them to an intersection of enormous halls, built in the pattern of a
wheel. Stained-glass windows that formed the hub high overhead let in sunlight that streamed in
colored shafts through the cavernous central area.

Kahlan stopped and turned her green eyes to the wizard. "Which way?"

Zedd pointed down a hall to the right. Kahlan started off without hesitation.

"How do you know where we're going?" Chase asked.

"Two ways. First, the People's Palace is built on a pattern I recognize, the pattern of a magic spell.
The entire palace is one giant spell drawn on the face of the ground. It's a power spell, meant to
protect Darken Rahl, keep him safe here, amplify his power. It's a spell drawn to protect him from
other wizards. I have very little power here. I am next to helpless. The core of it is a place called the
Garden of Life. Darken Rahl will be there."

Chase gave a troubled look. "What's the second."

Zedd hesitated. "The boxes. Their covers are removed. I can sense them. They, too, are in the
Garden of Life." Something was wrong. He knew what it was to sense one of the boxes, and two
should be twice as strong. But the feeling wasn't; it was three times as strong.

The wizard directed the Mother Confessor down the proper halls as they came to them, and up the
proper stairways as they appeared. Each hall, each different level, had stone of unique color or type.
In some places the columns stood several levels high. Balconies between them looked down on the
hall. Stairways were all marble, each of a different color. They passed huge statues, standing like
stone sentinels at the walls to each side. The three walked for several hours, working their way
higher into the center of the People's Palace. It was impossible to go in a straight course; there was
none.

At last they came to closed doors, carved in a country scene, clad in gold. Kahlan stopped and
looked to the wizard.

"This is the place, dear one. The Garden of Life. The boxes are in here. Darken Rahl will be, too."
She gave him a deep stare. "Thank you, Zedd, and you, too, Chase."

Kahlan turned to the door, but Zedd put his hand gently on her shoulder and turned her back
around. "Darken Rahl has only two boxes. He will be dead soon. Without your help."

Her eyes were cold fire in the heart of the sharp, red lightning bolts drawn on her resolute face.
"Then I have no time to waste."

She pushed the doors open, and strode into the Garden of Life

CHAPTER 4

9
THE FRAGRANCE OF FLOWERS engulfed them as they stepped into the Garden of Life. Zedd
knew immediately that something was wrong. There was no doubt; all three boxes were in the
room. He had been wrong. Rahl did have all three. He sensed something else, too, something out of
place, but with his power diminished, he couldn't put his trust in the feeling. With Chase at his
heels, Zedd stayed close behind Kahlan as she walked along the path, among the trees, past the
vine-covered walls and colorful flowers. They came to grass. Kahlan stopped.

Across the lawn was a circle of white sand. Sorcerer's sand. In his whole life, Zedd had never seen
so much of it in one place, never seen more than a pouchful. This much was worth ten kingdoms.
Tiny flecks of prismatic light reflected up at him. With rising trepidation, Zedd wondered what Rah
l needed with that much sorcerer's sand, what tie did with it. He found it hard to take his eyes from
the lure of it.

Beyond the sorcerer's sand sat a sacrificial altar. There, on the stone altar, were the three boxes of
Orden. Zedd's heart felt as if it skipped a beat, to see, for sure, that all three were

there together. Each had its cover removed. Each was black as midnight.

In front of the boxes, with his back to them, stood Darken Rahl. Zedd raged at seeing the one who
had harmed Richard. The sunlight coming straight down from the glass roof lit the white robes and
long blond hair, making them glow. Rahl stood gazing at the boxes, his prizes.

Zedd felt his face heat. How had Rahl found the last box? How had he gotten it? He dismissed the
questions; they were irrelevant. The question was what to do now. With all three, Rahl could open
one. Zedd watched Kahlan as she stared across at Darken Rahl. If she could in fact touch Rahl with
her power, they would be saved, but he doubted that she had the necessary power. In this palace,
especially in this room, Zedd could feel that-his own power was virtually useless. The whole place
was one giant spell against any wizard but a Rahl. If Darken Rahl was to be stopped, only Kahlan
could do it. He felt the Blood Rage emanating from her, the seething fury.

Kahlan started across the grass. Zedd and Chase followed, but when they had almost reached the
sand opposite Rahl, she turned and placed a hand on the wizard's chest.

"Both of you will wait here."

Zedd felt the wrath in her eyes, and understood it because he shared it. He, too, felt the pain of
losing Richard.

When Zedd's head came up, he was staring into the blue eyes of Darken Rahl. They held each
other's gaze a moment. Rahl's eyes shifted to Kahlan as she walked around the circle of sand, her
countenance dead calm.

Chase leaned closer and whispered, "What are we going to do if this doesn't work?"

"We are going to die."

Zedd's hopes lifted when he saw the look of alarm on Darken Rahl's face. Alarm, and fear, at seeing
Kahlan painted with the twin lightning bolts of the Con Dar. Zedd smiled. Darken Rahl hadn't
counted on that, and appeared to be frightened by it.

The alarm turned to action. As Kahlan approached, Darken Rahl suddenly drew the Sword of
Truth. It hissed coming out, and it came out white. He held it out, stopping Kahlan at its point

They were too close to be stopped now. Zedd had to help her, help her use the only thing that could
save them. The wizard used every bit of strength he had, which wasn't as much as he wished, and
threw a bolt of lightning across the white sorcerer's sand. He drained all his power into it. The blue
lightning hit the sword, knocking it from Rahl's hands. It flew through the air, landing a good
distance away. Darken Rahl screamed something to Zedd, then turned to Kahlan, speaking to her,
but neither could understand him.

Darken Rahl backed away as Kahlan advanced. He bumped into the altar, able to back away no
farther. He ran his fingers through his hair as Kahlan stopped in front of him.

Zedd's smile faded. Something was wrong. The way Rahl ran his fingers through his hair sparked
his memory.

The Mother Confessor reached out and seized Darken Rahl by the throat. "This is for Richard."

Zedd's eyes went wide. Ice flashed through him. He understood what was wrong. He gasped in
recognition.

That wasn't Darken Rahl.

Zedd screamed. "Kahlan, no! Stop! That's . . ."

There was an impact to the air, thunder with no sound. The leaves on the trees about shuddered.
The grass shook in a wave, radiating outward .

. . . Richard!" Too late, the wizard realized the truth. Pain gripped him.

"Mistress," he whispered, falling to his knees before her.

Zedd stood frozen. Despair crushed the elation of Richard being alive. A vine-covered door in a
wall to the side opened. The real Darken Rahl emerged, followed by Michael and two big guards.
Kahlan blinked in confusion.

The enemy web wavered, and in a shimmer of light the one who had been Darken Rahl was
returned to who he really was. Richard.

Kahlan's eyes went wide in horror as she backed away. The power of the Con Dar faltered, and
extinguished. She screamed in anguish at what she had done.

The two guards stepped behind her. Chase reached up for his sword. He was frozen in place before
his hand reached it. Zedd brought his hands up, but there was no power left. Nothing happened. He
ran for -them, but before he could take two steps, he hit an invisible wall. He was encased in it, held
like a prisoner in a stone cell. He railed in rage at his own stupidity.

At seeing what she had done, Kahlan yanked a knife from the belt of a guard. With a cry of
anguish, she held it up in both hands to plunge it into herself.

Michael grabbed her from behind, twisted the knife from her hands, and held it to her throat.
Richard launched himself in a fury at his brother but crashed into an invisible wall and was
knocked back. Kahlan had expended all her energy in the Con Dar, and was too weak to fight back;
she collapsed in tears. One of the guards tied a gag to her mouth, preventing her from even
mumbling Richard's name.

Richard, on his knees, fell against Darken Rahl, gripping his robes, pleading up to him. "Don't hurt
her! Please. Don't hurt her."

Darken Rahl put a hand on Richard's shoulder. "So glad to see you have come back, Richard. I
thought you might. I'm glad you've decided to help me. I admire your devotion to your friends."

Zedd was bewildered. What help could Darken Rahl possibly need from Richard?

"Please," Richard begged in tears, "don't hurt her."

"Well now, that's entirely up to you." He pulled Richard's hands from his robes.

"Anything! I'll do anything. Just don't hurt her."

A smile spread on Darken Rahl's lips. He licked the tips of his fingers. He ran his other hand
through Richard's hair. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Richard. I really am. It would have been a
pleasure having you around as you were. Although you don't realize it, you and I are very much
alike. But I'm afraid you have fallen victim to the Wizard's First Rule."

"Don't hurt Mistress Kahlan," Richard cried. "Please."

"If you do as I say, I will do as I promised, and she will be treated well. I may even turn you into
something pleasant, something you would like to be, maybe a lapdog. I may even let you sleep in
our bedchamber so you might see that I keep my word. Maybe I will even name my son in honor of
you, for helping me

Would you like that? Richard Rahl. Sort of ironic, don't you think."

"Do whatever you want with me, but please don't hurt Mistress Kahlan. Tell me what you want me
to do, please."

Darken Rahl patted Richard's head. "Soon, my son, soon. Wait here."

Darken Rahl left Richard on his knees, and glided around the circle of white sand to Zedd. The blue
eyes locked on the old man as he came. Zedd felt hollow, empty.

Rahl stopped in front of him and licked his fingers, stroking them over his eyebrows.

"What is your name, Old One?"

Zedd stared back, his hopes destroyed. "Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander." He held his chin up. "I am the
one who killed your father."

Darken Rahl nodded. "And do you know that your wizard's fire also burned me? Do you know it
almost killed me when I was but a child? And that I spent months in agony? And that to this day I
carry the scars of what you did, both those on the outside, and others on the inside?"

"I'm sorry I hurt a child, regardless of who the child was. But in this case, I would call it premature
punishment."

Rahl's face remained pleasant, the hint of a smile still on his lips. "We are going to have a long time
together, you and I. I am going to teach you of the pain I endured, and more. You will know what it
was like."

Zedd gave a bitter look. "Nothing could match the pain you have already given me."

Darken Rahl licked his fingertips as he turned away. "We will see."

Zedd watched in hopeless frustration as Rahl returned to stand once more in front of Richard.
"Richard!" Zedd screamed. "Don't help him! Kahlan would rather die than have you help him!"

Richard looked blankly to the wizard before he gazed up at Darken Rahl. "I'll do anything if you
don't hurt her."

Darken Rahl motioned him to his feet. "You have my word, my son. If you do as I ask." Richard
nodded. "Recite the Book of Counted Shadows." Zedd reeled in shock. Richard turned to Kahlan.

"What should I do, Mistress?"

Kahlan struggled against Michael, against the knife at her throat, screamed muffled words against
the gag.

Rahl's voice was calm, gentle. "Recite the Book of Counted Shadows, Richard, or I will have
Michael start by cutting off her fingers one at a time. The longer you remain silent, the more he will
cut her."

Richard spun back to Rahl, panic in his eyes. "Verification of the truth of the words of the Book of
Counted Shadows, if spoken by another, rather than read by the one who commands the boxes, can
only be insured by the use of a Confessor . . . . "

Zedd sank to the ground. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. As he listened to Richard
reading out the book, he knew it was true; he recognized the unique syntax of a book of magic.
Richard couldn't be making it up. It was the Book of Counted Shadows. Zedd didn't have the
strength to wonder at how Richard had learned it.

The world as they knew it was ending. This was the first day of the rule of Rahl. All was lost.
Darken Rahl had won. The world was his.

Zedd sat numbly, listening. Some of the words themselves were magic, and none but one with the
gift could keep the words in his head; the magic would erase the whole of it at certain magic trigger
words. Protection against unseen circumstances. Protection against just anyone getting hold of the
magic within. That Richard could recite them was proof he was born to it. Born of and to the
magic. As much as Richard hated the magic, he was magic, as the prophecies foretold.

Zedd mourned the things he had done. Mourned that he had tried to protect Richard from the forces
that would have sought to use him, had they known what he was. .Those born with the gift were
always vulnerable when they were young. Darken Rahl was proof of that. Zedd had deliberately
chosen not to teach Richard, as a way of protecting him from those forces learning of him. Zedd
had always feared, and hoped, that Richard had the gift, but had hoped he would grow before it
manifested itself, and then Zedd might have the time to teach him when he was strong enough,
when he was old enough. And before it could kill him. It had been a futile effort. It had come to no
good end. Zedd guessed that he had always known Richard had the gift, was someone special.
Everyone who knew Richard knew he was someone special. Rare. The mark of magic.

Zedd wept as he recalled the time he had enjoyed with Richard. They had been good years. None
had been better in his life. The years away from the magic. To have someone love him without fear,
and only for himself. To be a friend.

Richard read out the book without hesitation or a single falter. Zedd marveled that he knew it so
perfectly, and caught himself being proud, but then wished Richard weren't so talented. Much of
what he recited was about things already finished with, such as removing the covers from the
boxes, but Darken Rahl didn't stop him or hurry him over those sections for fear that he might miss
something. He let Richard recite it at his own pace, and stood mute, listening carefully.
Occasionally, Rahl had him repeat a section, to be sure he had it right, and stood absorbed in
thought as Richard told of sun angles, of clouds, of wind patterns.

The afternoon wore on, Richard reciting, Rahl standing before him listening, Michael with a knife
at Kahlan's throat, the two guards holding her arms, Chase frozen in place, his hand halfway to his
sword, and Zedd sitting on the ground, doomed, locked in his invisible prison. Zedd realized that
the procedure for opening the boxes was going to take longer than he would have thought. It would
take all night. There were enchantments to be drawn. That was the reason Darken Rahl needed so
much sorcerer's sand. The boxes had to be placed just so, the winter's first sun touching them,
dictating their position once they each cast a shadow.

Each box, although they looked identical, cast a different shadow. As the sun sank lower in the sky,
the fingers of shadows grew away from each box. One of the boxes cast a single finger of shadow,
another cast two fingers of shadow, and the third cast three. Now he knew why it was called the
Book of Counted Shadows.

At the proper places in the book, Darken Rahl had Richard stop while the enchantments were