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.
"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.
"Chase," Zedd cautioned in a low voice, "don't be a fool. Stay where you are."
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?"
"High D'Haran? What are you talking about? What are . . ."
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?
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.
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.
"Who do you see?" he whispered again. '
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.
"What do you want?" Zedd asked. "We can't understand you."
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.
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.
"Darken Rahl put a wizard's web on me. They don't recognize me."
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.
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?"
"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!"
"bet's get out of here. We have to go find my brother."
"Now what?" Scarlet asked over her shoulder.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
"Do you think you could land us ahead of them, without letting them see us?"
"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."
Her head came around. "What now?"
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."
"It will be dark soon. I must return to my egg. It needs to be warmed."
Scarlet looked up at the sky. "Clouds are gathering." Her head came back down. "If there are
clouds, I can't fly in them."
She grunted, a puff of smoke rising from her nostrils. "Because clouds have rocks in them."
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?"
"Not much time."
"Three days from tomorrow, and then I'm done with you."
Scarlet peered up once more. "I don't like the look of the sky. Good luck, Richard Cypher. I will
return in the morning."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Richard . . . how did you . . . What are you doing here? It's . . . so . . . good to see you again. We
have all been so . . . worried."
When the enemy web was put on him, Rahl had said those who honored Rahl would see Richard
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..
"Ah . . . you look hungry, Richard. Let me have some dinner brought in for you. We'll have a talk.
It's been so long."
"Where is the box?"
Richard now knew; Darken Rahl had the third box. Darken Rahl had spoken the truth.
He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Well, as long as the box is safe. That's what counts."
"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."
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.
"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."
Michael stood, his eyes shifting to the tent's opening. "I'll not hear of it. We are . . ."
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 . . . "
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.
His refusal to see the truth was going to cost him everything. He had no choices left him now. He
deserved to die.
Michael put his hands on his hips and smiled down. "You remember. That was a long time ago,
little brother."
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.
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.
"You men," he called to the guards, "I want my brother to stay with us, for his own protection."
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.
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.
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?
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 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.
If only it had not been Richard. Anyone but Richard. Nothing was ever easy.
Kahlan reflected his worry in her face. "What is it?" she whispered.
She looked about. "Maybe he fell asleep." Zedd lifted an eyebrow. "Well, maybe there is a good
reason. Maybe it's nothing."
Kahlan came to her feet, checking her knife. "Can you sense where he is?"
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.
Kahlan was in a half crouch. "Demmin Nass," she hissed.
I'll execute him later, after the festivities. I'd like him to the have the enjoyment of watching what
we do to you."
Their confidence irritated Zedd. Their grins made him furious. The early light made the four pairs
of blue eyes all the more penetrating.
Demmin Nass and Kahlan stared at one another.
"Who?„
Demmin smiled. "Well now, that is Master Rahl's and my business. Not your."
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."
Before the wizard had time to react, things went terribly wrong.
Demmin Nass took his thumb out of his belt. "Problem, old man?"
It didn't come.
Demmin Nass brought his fist down and broke her arm.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Demmin Nass kicked Chase in the ribs and head, until he didn't move anymore.
"No!" Kahlan screamed. "Brophy! No! Get away!"
Kahlan hung by her arms and hair, crying and sobbing the wolf's name.
"Make her pay," he hissed to the two men holding her. "Do her good."
Please, Kahlan, Zedd begged silently in his mind, please, keep your mouth shut. Please, don't say
anything else.
"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."
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.
"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."
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.
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?"
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.
"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."
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.
The color drained from Kahlan's face. She turned white as a lily.
"No," she whispered, her eyes wide.
Kahlan shook slightly, her eyes wet, and Zedd was sure she turned even whiter.
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.
Her arms rose slowly into the air, her fists to the sky. Her head rolled back.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 joining was complete.
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.
Zedd turned to Chase and parted the ropes with a quick spell. Chase gave a grunt of pain at having
his arms free.
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.
Chase frowned. "Why not?".
"Well, why didn't she do it before? Why didn't she put a stop to what was happening before now?"
"Why?„
Chase stared in shock. "You told me her power can't touch him, can't take him."
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.
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.
"Mistress!" the man called out as he fell to his knees. "What do you command of me? What do you
wish of me?"
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.
Kahlan's face showed no emotion. She said nothing.
"Mistress!" he whispered.
"Not anymore. She is in the Con Dar."
With graceful smoothness, Kahlan walked to the wizard. She stopped, and lifted her broken arm to
him.
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.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Wait here."
There were tears in his eyes. "Please, Mistress, command me."
The coldness of her voice sent a shiver through Zedd as he watched the big man kneel before her.
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
with. It's like trying to reason with a thunderstorm it will only
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.
He took it and held it at his side. Kahlan kneeled down in front of him, close.
"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."
He thought a moment. "More than eighty. Less than one hundred twenty."
"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."
"Look into my eyes. I wish to see it in your eyes."
Demmin's knuckles around the mace were white.
Demmin held a shaking hand before her. She put the bloody sack in his palm.
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."
"It will displease me greatly if you don't. Just hold on. It won't be long."
"Was what you told me about Richard, the Seeker, true?"
Kahlan's voice was deadly calm. "All of it?"
"There is some you did not tell me?"
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.
"I did not see him killed, Mistress. But I am sure."
"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.
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.
"Look at me," Kahlan said, the mace held high in both her hands.
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.
Chase looked at the bowl, a little confused. "Now?"
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.
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."
Zedd closed his eyes against the pain, the burden, of being a wizard.
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.
She went back to crushing, a few tears running down her face.
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.
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.
"I am the Mother Confessor. I will wear no cloak."
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.
"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."
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."
Zedd nodded his understanding. "I will be glad for your company."
"Not to you, you have no magic, and not to wizards, I have protection."
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."
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
As he turned, movement caught his eye. The horse let out a terrified neigh. Howls split the morning
silence. Heart hounds.
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.
And then it turned to flame.
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.
"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."
"You didn't find your friends? Your brother?"
Scarlet gave a grumble, vibrating the scales on her throat. "I'm sorry, Richard Cypher. Climb on. I
will take you."
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.
"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
Richard smiled up at her. "Fair enough, my friend. But you'll not get the chance. Today, I am going
to die."
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."
"I am the Seeker. The last Seeker."
"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?"
"Where did you take him?"
Michael's house. And his father's. And his own.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
If he was going to give a devotion,- it was going to be one that meant something to him. He
changed the words.
The shock of realization made sit bolt upright on his heels, his eyes wide.
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.
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.
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."
-+---
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.
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."
Chase frowned over at the wizard. "That doesn't make me feel any better."
Chase stiffened. "Not until it is done."
Chase glared at the captain of the guards. "You let anyone in?"
"One does not sneak up on a wizard of Rahl's talents."
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."
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."
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.
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.
Zedd pointed down a hall to the right. Kahlan started off without hesitation.
"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."
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.
At last they came to closed doors, carved in a country scene, clad in gold. Kahlan stopped and
looked to the wizard.
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."
She pushed the doors open, and strode into the Garden of Life
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.
there together. Each had its cover removed. Each was black as midnight.
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.
"Both of you will wait here."
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.
"We are going to die."
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
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.
The Mother Confessor reached out and seized Darken Rahl by the throat. "This is for Richard."
That wasn't Darken Rahl.
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 .
"Mistress," he whispered, falling to his knees before her.
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.
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.
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.
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."
"Please," Richard begged in tears, "don't hurt her."
"Anything! I'll do anything. Just don't hurt her."
"Don't hurt Mistress Kahlan," Richard cried. "Please."
Would you like that? Richard Rahl. Sort of ironic, don't you think."
Darken Rahl patted Richard's head. "Soon, my son, soon. Wait here."
Rahl stopped in front of him and licked his fingers, stroking them over his eyebrows.
Zedd stared back, his hopes destroyed. "Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander." He held his chin up. "I am the
one who killed your father."
"I'm sorry I hurt a child, regardless of who the child was. But in this case, I would call it premature
punishment."
Zedd gave a bitter look. "Nothing could match the pain you have already given me."
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!"
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.
Kahlan struggled against Michael, against the knife at her throat, screamed muffled words against
the gag.
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 . . . . "
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 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.
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.
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.