Her fingertips touched his lips to silence him.
He sat up and looked at her. She was starting to shake with cold. Shrugging the straps of the pack
off his shoulders, he pulled a blanket out and wrapped it around her.
He couldn't help but to laugh as he got to his feet. "Sure. There's a wayward pine right over there on
the other side of the clearing. Or if you want there are others up the trail a little way."
"Right," he smiled, "we'll find another wayward pine up the trail."
Richard was not quite able to stand under the branches where they began growing out from the
trunk. The branches were bare near the trunk, with needles on the ends, leaving a hollow interior.
The lower branches dipped all the way to the ground. The tree was fire-resistant, as long as one was
careful. The smoke from the small fire curled up the center, near the trunk. The needles grew so
thick that even in a good rain it remained dry inside. Richard had waited out many a rain in a
wayward pine. He always enjoyed staying in the small but cozy shelters as he traveled the Hartland.
Kahlan sat herself down cross-legged in front of the fire. She was still shivering and kept the
blanket over her head formed into a hood, and held tightly up around her chin.
"When was the last time you slept?"
Richard was surprised she could keep her eyes open. When they were running from the quad, he
had barely been able to keep up with her. It was her fear that pushed her on, he knew.
"It would be very unwise," she said, "to go to sleep in the boundary." Kahlan watched the fire,
spellbound in its warm embrace, the light from it fluttering on her face. She loosened the blanket
from around her chin and let it hang so she could put her hands out to warm them closer to the fire.
"Hungry?"
Richard dug around in his pack, retrieving a pot, and went outside to fill it in a pool of water at a
small brook they had passed a short distance back. Sounds of the night filled air so cold it felt as if
it might break if he wasn't careful. Once again he cursed himself for leaving home without his
forest cloak, among other things. The memory of what had been waiting for him at his house made
him shiver all the more.
Cold to the bone, he came back in and put the pot of water on the fire, balancing it on three stones.
Richard started to sit across from her, but then changed his mind and sat next to her, telling himself
it was because he was so cold. When she heard his teeth chattering, she put half the blanket around
his shoulders, letting her half slip from her head down to her shoulders as well. The blanket, heated
by her body, felt good around him, and he sat quietly letting the warmth soak in.
"There are many dangers in the Midlands." A wistful smile came over her face. "There are also
many fantastic and magical things. It is a beautiful, wondrous place. But the gar are not from the
Midlands. They are from D'Hara."
D'Hara. Until his brother's speech today he had never heard the name spoken in anything other than
the cautious whispers of older people. Or in a curse. Kahlan continued to watch the fire.
That shock made him feel as if the shadowy D'Hara had just taken a frightening, giant leap closer.
He struggled to make sense of the things he was learning.
"Maybe," she said noncommittally.
Kahlan smiled as she idly twisted a strand of hair. "When I first saw you, my thought was that you
were no fool." Firelight sparkled in her green eyes. "Thank you for not proving me wrong."
Maybe he's trying to prepare the people, get them used to the idea, so when they find out, they
won't panic."
The water was starting to boil. Richard leaned over, hooked his finger through a strap and pulled
his pack to him, then re arranged the blanket. Rummaging around, he located the pouch of dried
vegetables and poured some into the pot. From his pocket he pulled a napkin that held four fat
sausages, which he broke up and tossed into the soup pot.
"A good woodsman," he said, licking his fingers and looking up at her, "always plans ahead and
tries to know where his next meal will come from."
"I do not think much of his." He knew he would get no argument from her on that point. "Kahlan, I
won't justify the way he acted. Ever since our mother died he's been a hard person to be close to.
But I know he cares about people. You have to, if you want to be a good councilor. It must be a lot
of pressure. I certainly wouldn't want the responsibility. But that's all he ever wanted: to be
someone important. And now that he's First Councilor, he has what he's always wanted. He should
be satisfied, but he seems even less tolerant. He's always busy, and always snapping orders. He is
always in a bad mood lately. Maybe when he got what he wanted, it wasn't what he thought it
would be. I wish he could be more like he used to be."
That eased the tension. They both laughed.
"Young people here are not taught the histories of the three lands?"
"Both my father and Zedd told me they used to live in the Midlands before the boundary. Before it
went up, they came to Westland. They met here before I was born. They said that back before the
boundaries was a terrible time, and that there was a lot of fighting. They both told me there was
nothing I needed to know except it was a dreadful time best forgotten. Zedd always seemed the
most bitter about it."
"Well, it is a long story. If you want I will tell you some of it." When she turned to him, he nodded
for her to go on.
"By the time Rahl had conquered all of D'Hara, the people of the Midlands had seen what he was
about, and were not to be taken so easily. They knew that signing a peace treaty with him was as
good as signing an invitation to invasion. Instead, they chose to remain free, and joined together,
through the council of the Midlands, in a common defense. Many of the free lands held no favor
with each other, but they knew that if they did not fight together, they would die separately, one at a
time
Kahlan broke off another piece of the stick and fed it to the fire. "As his legions were finally slowed
and then halted, Rahl turned to magic. There is magic in D'Hara, too, not just in the Midlands. Back
then there was magic everywhere. There were no separate lands, no boundaries. Anyway, Panis
Rahl was ruthless in his use of magic against the free people. He was terribly brutal."
"Some was trickery, sickness, fevers, but the worst of it was the shadow people."
"Shadows in the air. Shadow people had no solid form, no precise shape, they were not even alive
as we know it, but beings created out of magic." She held out her hand, gliding it across in front of
them. "They would come floating across a field or through a wood. Weapons had no effect on
them. Swords and arrows went through them as if they were nothing more than smoke. You
couldn't hide; shadow people could see you anywhere. One would drift right up to a person and
touch him. The touch caused the person's whole body to blister and swell and finally split open. No
one touched by a shadow person ever survived. Whole battalions were found killed to a man."
"What was his name, this great and honorable wizard?"
Richard stirred some spices into the soup, listening intently while she resumed her story.
Richard added a stick of birch to the fire. "How did this great and honorable wizard stop the
shadow people?"
"The wars had been devastating, but it was concluded that going into D'Hara to destroy Rahl and
his forces would be too costly. Yet something had to be done to keep Panis Rahl from trying again,
as they knew he would, and many were more frightened of the magic than of the hordes from
D'Hara, and they wanted to have nothing to do with it ever again. They wanted a place to live
where there would be no magic. Westland was set aside for those people. So it was that there came
to be three lands. The boundaries were created with the help of magic . . . but they themselves are
not magic."
Even though her head was turned, he could see her eyes close for a moment. She took the spoon
from him and tasted the soup, which he knew wasn't ready yet, then turned to him, as if asking if he
really wanted to know. Richard waited.
"You mean that going into the boundary is, what, like falling through a crack into another world?
Into the underworld?"
"Then how did you?"
Richard sat spellbound. He was horrified to think that she had faced that, that she had gone through
a part of the underworld, the world of the dead, even with the aid of magic. It was unimaginable.
Her frightened eyes came to his, eyes that had seen things no one else had ever seen.
Her skin was ashen as she looked back into the fire. A birch twig popped, making her flinch. Her
lower lip began to quiver, and her eyes filled with tears that reflected the flickering flames, but she
was not seeing the fire.
She turned to him, confused, seeming not to know where she was. It panicked him to see the pain in
her eyes-pain he brought there with his question. She put her hand over her mouth as tears rolled
down her cheeks. Her eyes closed as she gave a low, mournful cry. Bumps ran up Richard's arms.
Somehow, he was losing her to the powerful specters of what she had seen in the underworld, as if
they were pulling her back to drown her. Frantic, Richard put his hands on her shoulders and
twisted her to face him.
"Dennee . . . " she gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to break free of him.
"I'm so alone . . . and afraid. . . ."
She continued to cry convulsively, choking for air. Her eyes opened, but they didn't focus on him;
they were looking into another place.
"I'm so alone," she wailed.
Struggling to control his rising panic, Richard did the only thing he could think of. When he had
been confronted with fear in the past, he had learned to control it. There was strength in control. He
did that now. Maybe he could give her some of his strength. Closing his eyes, he shut his fear
away, blocked off the panic, and sought the calm within himself. He let his mind focus on the
strength within himself. In the quiet of his mind, he blocked off his fears and confusion, and
centered his thoughts on the strength of that peace. He would not let the underworld have her.
His hands gripped her shoulders. He could feel her shaking as she cried in choking sobs and
struggled to breathe. He visualized sending her his strength, through his hands, through his contact
with her. He visualized that contact extending to her mind, lending her all of his strength and
drawing her back, away from the blackness. He would be the spark of light and life in that
blackness that would lead her back to this world, to him.
He pictured the white-hot light in his mind, hoping it would help her. Please, dear spirits, he
prayed, let her see it. Let it help her. Let her use my strength.
He squeezed her shoulders again. "I'm here. I won't leave you. Come back to me."
Reaching down, he got a hold of the blanket and pulled it back up around her, wrapping her with it
as best he could. Warmth was returning to her body again, another sign that she was safe now, but
he was disturbed by how quickly the underworld had pulled her back. He didn't think that was
supposed to happen. She hadn't been there long, and exactly how he had gotten her back, he didn't
know, but he knew it had been none too soon.
He didn't know anything about wizards, or magic, but no one would send Kahlan through the
boundary, through the underworld, without a powerful reason. He wondered what could be that
important.
"It's all right, Kahlan. It is the first responsibility of a friend to provide a shoulder to cry on."
"How do you do that?" she asked in a soft voice.
"How do you ask questions that fill my mind with pictures and make me answer, even when I have
no intention to?"
"No, it shouldn't. It was almost as if when I thought back to what I had seen, someone was waiting
to pull me back. I fear if you hadn't been here, I might have been lost there. In the darkness, I saw a
light. Something you did brought me back."
Kahlan gave a weak shrug. "Maybe."
"If I'm to help you to stay ahead of the next quad, to stay alive, I need answers. And I don't think
we have much time."
He let her eat some soup before he went on. "So what happened after the boundaries went up?
What about the great wizard?"
Richard stared at her. "What did the wizard do to Rahl?"
Richard had never heard of wizard's fire, but he didn't think it required an explanation. "So what
happened to Panis Rahl?"
Richard gave her the spoon, and she ate some more while he tried to imagine the righteous wrath of
a wizard. After a few bites she gave back the spoon and continued.
Richard smiled. That sounded like something Zedd would say.
"What's that, a wizard's web?"
Kahlan tossed a stick in the fire, staring off into her thoughts. He went back to eating soup while he
waited for her go on with the story. After a few minutes, she did.
He backed the spoonful of soup away from his mouth as he looked up. "What movement?"
"Anyway, then the gars started coming over the boundary
"But how did they get across the boundary?"
Richard stared wide-eyed. "The army killed them?"
"And did they learn at these schools of enlightenment how great Darken Rahl is?"
"So the Midlands didn't fight back?"
"How did . . .
"I was going to ask how the wizards reacted to all this."
"Rahl then outlawed the use of all magic and declared anyone using it an insurrectionist. You must
understand that in the Midlands magic is a part of many people, many creatures. It would
His eyes came up from the soup. "Fire? Why?"
"That's why you wanted to sit in front of a fire."
He cut her off. "Our mother was burned to death in a fire." His tone was a hot warning. "That's why
Michael is concerned about fire. That's the only reason. And he never said anything about
outlawing it, only that he wanted to do something so others wouldn't be hurt like she was. There's
nothing wrong with wanting people .not to be hurt."
Richard let his anger die as he took a deep breath. "I know it seemed that way, but you don't
understand him. That's just his way. I know it isn't his intention to hurt me." Richard pulled his
knees up and folded his arms across them.. "After our mother died, Michael spent more and more
time with his friends. He would make friends with anyone he thought was important. Some of them
were pompous and arrogant. Father didn't like some of Michael's friends, and told him so. They
would argue about it.
"Mat was the first time Michael called him 'George.' My father never let him sell anything for him
again.
"Sometimes Michael is crude in the way he does things, like today when he told everyone about
our mother, and pointed at me, but I know . . . I know that he has everyone's best interests at heart.
He doesn't want anyone hurt by fire. That's all, he just doesn't want anyone to go through what we
did. He is only trying to do what is best for everyone."
Richard smiled and gave her a nod. "Of course. I guess if I had been through all you have, I would
be quick to think the worst, too. I'm sorry I jumped on you. If you will forgive my tone, I'll let you
finish the soup."
He wanted to hear the rest of her story, but he waited and watched her eat for a while before he
asked, "So have the D'Haran forces conquered all of the Midlands?"
"Five of the wizards realized they had been wrong, that the great wizard was right after all. The
sought to gain redemption in his eyes, and save the Midlands, and Westland, from what will happen
if Darken Rahl gains the magic he seeks. So they searched for the great wizard, but Rahl hunts him
also."
"There were seven: the great wizard and his six students. The old one has vanished; one of the
others sold his services to a queen, a very dishonorable thing for a wizard to do." She paused,
considering that a moment. "And as I told you before, the five others are dead. Before they died
they had the whole of the Midlands searched, but the great one was not to be found. He is not in the
Midlands."
Kahlan dropped the spoon in the empty pot. "Yes. He is here."
"No," she said after a pause, "he does not have the power to go against Darkeh Rahl either. What
they wanted, what we need to save and keep us all from what will be, is for the great wizard to
make the appointment only he can make."
"Because they feared he would say no, and they did not have the power to force him."
She shook her head with a sad smile. "They were his students, ones who wanted to be wizards.
They were not born wizards, born with the gift. The great one was born to a father who was a
wizard and a mother who was a sorceress. It is in his blood, not just his head. They could never be
the wizard he is. They simply did not have the power to make him do what they wanted." She fell
silent
At last, she gave him the answer in a soft whisper.
The fire crackled and hissed. He could feel the tension in her, and he knew she had gone as far with
that answer as she would on the subject, so he remained still to let her feel safe. Without looking
over, he put his hand on her forearm, and she put her other hand over his.
"I only know I must find him, and soon, or we are all lost."
Kahlan gave him a suspicious look. "That sounds like magic. There is not supposed to be any
magic in Westland."
Kahlan laughed. It was a good sound to hear. He didn't want to press her further even though the
weave of her story had many loose threads; there was much she wasn't telling him. At least he
knew more than he did before. The important thing was to find the wizard and then get away;
another quad would be coming for her. They would have to go west while the wizard did whatever
it was he had to do.
The ointment soothed the sting. He recognized the fragrances of some of the plants and herbs it was
made from. Zedd had taught him to make a similar ointment, but with aum, that would take pain
from flesh wounds. When finished with him, she put some on herself. He held out his sore red
hand.
"Richard! What have you done?" "I was stuck by a thorn, this morning."
"It was a big thorn. I'm sure I'll be better by morning."
"Richard, are you afraid of magic?"
Kahlan smiled, apparently satisfied with his answer. "Richard, before I can sleep, there is
something ,l must tend to. It is a creature of magic. If you would not be afraid, I will let you see it.
The opportunity is a rare one. Few have ever seen it, and few ever will. But you must promise me
you will leave and take a walk when I ask, and not ask me any more questions when you return. I
am very tired and must sleep."
Opening her waist pouch once more, Kahlan withdrew a small round bottle with a stopper. Blue
and silver lines spiraled around the fat part. There was light inside.
Kahlan's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady and calm. "Tonight, she dies. She can
live no longer away from her home place and the others of her kind, and she does not have the
strength to cross the boundary again. Shar has sacrificed her life to help me because if Darken Rahl
succeeds, all her kind, among others, will perish."
A tiny flare of light lifted clear of the bottle, floating up into the cool, dim air of the wayward pine,
giving everything a silvery cast. The light softened as the wisp came to a stop in the air between
them, hovering. Richard was astonished. His mouth hung open as he watched, transfixed.
"Good evening to you, Shar." His own voice was not much more than a whisper.
"Thank you, Shar, but the Midlands are the last place I would want to go. I'll help Kahlan find the
wizard, but then I must take us west and get us safely away from those who would kill us."
"If that is what you wish, then you must do so," Shar said. Richard felt relieved. The tiny point of
light spun in the air before them again.
Richard's mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow. At least the gar would have been quick, he
thought, and then it would be over. "Shar, isn't there a way for us to escape?"
Shar stopped again. "If your back is to him, your eyes will not be. He will get you. He enjoys it."
The tiny point of light spun again, coming closer to him this time before stopping. "Better question,
Richard Cypher. The answer you want is within yourself. You must seek it. You must seek it or he
will kill you both. Soon."
self. The light backed away a little as it spun. He would not let this opportunity pass without
finding out at least something he could hold on to.
Richard tried to decide the best way to question a spinning point of light. "Shar, Kahlan is trying to
save the others of your kind. I am trying to help her. You are giving your life to help her. If we fail,
everyone dies, you just said so. Please, is there anything you can tell me to help us against Darken
Rahl?"
"Already told you the answer. It is in you. Seek it or die. Sorry, Richard Cypher. Want to help.
Don't know the answer. Just that it is in you. Sorry sorry."
"All right, can you tell me why he's trying to kill me? Is it because I help Kahlan, or is there another
reason?"
"What!" Richard jumped to his feet. The night wisp followed him up.
"What's the wizard's name?"
Richard sat back down and put his face in his hands. Shar spun, throwing off shafts of light, and
flew in slow circles around his head. Somehow he knew she was trying to comfort him, and that
she was near her end. She was dying, and she was trying to comfort him. He tried to swallow back
the lump in his throat, so he could talk.
The night wisp floated to him and touched against his forehead. Her voice seemed to be as much in
his head as in his ears.
He realized his eyes were closed. Tears were running down freely, and the lump in his throat kept
catching his breath.
Richard nodded. "Good-bye, Shar. It has been my deep honor to have known you."
-+---
After he was gone, the night wisp floated to Kahlan and addressed her properly.
Kahlan's shoulders were slumped, and her hands nested in her lap as she stared into the fire. "Shar,
I cannot, not yet."
Tears began rolling down her face. "Don't you see? That is why I cannot tell him. If I tell him, he
will no longer be my friend, will no longer care for me. You cannot know what it is like to be a
Confessor, to have everyone fear you. He looks into my eyes, Shar. Not many have ever dared that.
No one could ever look into me the way he does. His eyes make me feel safe. He makes my heart
smile." "Others might tell him before you do, Confessor Kahlan. That would be worse."
"You play a dangerous game, Confessor Kahlan," Shar warned. "He could fall in love with. you
first. Then your telling would hurt him unforgivably."
"You will choose him?"
The night wisp spun back at the sound of Kahlan's shriek, then slowly came back by her face.
"Confessor Kahlan, you are the last of your kind. Darken Rahl has killed all the others. Even your
sister, Dennee. You are the Mother Confessor. You must choose a mate."
"Sorry, Mother Confessor. It is for you to choose."
"Hard to be Mother Confessor. Sorry."
"Much on your shoulders."
The night wisp landed lightly on the woman's shoulder and rested there quietly while Kahlan
watched the fire glow with small slow flames. After a time the night wisp rose from her shoulder
and floated to a spot in the air in front of her.
"You have my word, Shar, that I will give my own life, if necessary, to stop Darken Rahl. To save
your kind and the others." "I believe in you, Confessor Kahlan. Help Richard." Shar came closer.
"Please. Before I die. Touch me?"
Shar came forward. "Please, Mother Confessor. I feel such pain of aloneness away from the others.
I will never share their company again. It hurts so. I pass now. Please. Use your power. Touch me
and let me drink in the sweet agony. Let me die with the taste of love. I have forfeited my life to
help you. I have asked nothing else of you. Please?"
All about there was thunder but no sound. The violent impact to the air jolted the wayward pine,
causing a rain of dead needles, some flaring when they touched the fire. Shar's dim silvery color
changed to a pink glow, growing in intensity.
The spark of light and life faded and was gone.
"Shar?" he asked.
He nodded and, taking her arm, led her to the mat of dry grass and laid her down. She went without
resistance or comment. He put the blanket over her and piled on some of the dry grass to help keep
her warm through the night, then burrowed himself into it next to her. Kahlan turned on her side,
away from him, and pushed her shoulders back against him the way a child
would put its back to a parent when peril approached. He sensed it, too. Something was coming for
them. Something deadly.
Crossing a small brook near a beaver pond, they came upon a patch of late wildflowers, their
yellow and pale blue blossoms blanketing the ground in a sparsely wooded hollow. Kahlan stopped
to pick some. Finding a scoop-shaped piece of dead wood, she started arranging the flowers within
the hollow of the wood. Richard thought she must be hungry. He found an apple tree he knew to be
nearby and filled his pack half full while she bent to her task. It was always a good idea to bring
food when going to see Zedd.
"An offering to the spirits of our two mothers," she explained. "To ask their protection and help in
finding the wizard." Kahlan looked to his face, and concern came over her features. "Richard,
what's wrong?"
She slapped his hand away and in a blink had him by the throat with her other hand. Anger flared in
her green eyes. "Why would you do this?" she demanded.
The fury in-her eyes faltered, changing to doubt. "What did you call them?"
Her hand loosened its grip a little. "You eat these . . . apples?"
Embarrassment replaced her anger. She released his throat and put her fingers over her mouth. Her
eyes were wide. "Richard, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you could eat these things. In the Midlands,
any red fruit is deadly poison. I thought you meant to poison me."
"Umm, these things are good to eat." Kahlan's brow wrinkled. She put her hand on his forehead. "I
thought there was something wrong. You are burning with fever."
Zedd's squat house came into sight a short distance farther up the trail. A single plank from the sodcovered roof served as a ramp for his old cat, who was better at getting up than down. White lace
curtains hung on the inside of the windows, flower boxes on the outside. The flowers had dried and
wilted with the passing of the season. The log walls were dull gray with age, but a bright blue door
greeted visitors. Other than the door, the whole place gave the appearance of hunkering into the
grasses surrounding it, of trying to go unnoticed. The house wasn't large, but it did have a porch
running the length of the front.
Richard called out but received no answer. He smiled at Kahlan. "I bet I know where he is. Out
back on his cloud rock, studying the latest batch of clouds."
"It's his favorite place to stand and watch clouds. Don't ask me why. Ever since I've known him,
whenever he sees an interesting cloud, he runs out back to watch it while standing on that rock."
ichard had grown up with the rock, and didn't think the behavior peculiar; it was just part of the old
man.
Zedd was stark naked.
One scrawny finger rose, pointing skyward. "I knew you were coming, Richard." His voice was as
thin as the rest of him.
"Do you know how I knew you were coming?" Still he did not move or turn.
Zedd spun around, arms flailing in excitement. "Days! Bags! Richard, that cloud has been
following you for three weeks! Ever since your father was killed! I haven't seen you since George's
death. Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. I can find a lost bug in a barn
easier than I can find you when you get it in your head not to be found!"
"Busy! Too busy to look up once in a while? Bags, Richard, do you know where that cloud is
from?" Zedd's eyes were wide with concern as his forehead wrinkled above his raised brow.
"Neither. It's an assumption I make based on independent information. Zedd, as I said before, we
have company."
Richard already had an apple at hand; he knew Zedd would be hungry. Zedd was always hungry.
The old man bit into the apple with a vengeance.
Zedd put his scrawny fingers on the top of Richard's head while he chewed, and with his thumb,
lifted an eyelid. Leaning forward, he thrust his sharply featured face close to Richard's and peered
into his eye, then repeated the procedure on the other eye. "I always listen to you, Richard." He
lifted Richard's arm by the wrist, feeling his pulse. "And I agree, you are in trouble. In three hours,
maybe four, no more, you will be unconscious."
"Probably, but it depends on what caused it. Now, stop being rude and introduce me to your
girlfriend."
The old man peered closely into his eyes. "Oh, was I wrong? She is not a girl then?" Zedd cackled.
He smiled over the trick as he shuffled to Kahlan, bowed dramatically at the waist, lifted her hand
only a little, kissed it lightly, and said, "Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander, humbly at your whim, my dear
young lady." He straightened himself up to have a look at her face. When their eyes met, his smile
evaporated and his eyes went wide. His keen features transformed to anger. He released her hand as
if he had discovered himself holding a poisonous snake. Zedd spun to Richard.
Kahlan was calm and impassive. Richard was aghast. "Zedd ...
"Well, I . . ." Richard was trying to remember the times she had touched him, when Zedd cut him
off again.
Kahlan gave Zedd a look of such cold danger that it froze him in place.
Zedd stood in silence, searching Richard's eyes. He nodded. "Trouble indeed."
Zedd looked to Kahlan as if seeing her for the first time. They faced each other for a long while. At
the mention of the quad the look on Kahlan's face became one of torment. Zedd came forward and
put his spindly arms around her protectively, holding her head to his shoulder. She reached around
and embraced him gratefully, burying her face in his robes to conceal her tears. "It's all right, dear
one, you are safe here," he said softly. "Let's go down to the house and you can tell me of this
trouble, and then we must tend to Richard's fever." She nodded against his shoulder.
He smiled proudly, his thin lips pushing back his cheeks into deep wrinkles. "I'm sure you haven't,
dear one, I'm sure you haven't. By the way, can you cook?" He put his arm around her shoulder,
holding her tight as he started walking her down the hill. "I'm hungry and haven't had a suitably
cooked meal in years." He glanced back. "Come along, Richard, while you still can."
"Spice soup!" Zedd swooned. "I haven't had a proper spice soup in years. Richard is lousy at
making it."
Since Zedd was from the Midlands, Richard had thought he could gain his compassion with the
mention of the quad. Richard was relieved, if somewhat surprised, at how the two of them were
suddenly so amiable. He reached-up as he walked, touching the tooth for reassurance.
Near a back corner of the house sat a table where Zedd liked to take his meals in good weather. It
afforded him the opportunity to keep an eye to the clouds while he ate. Zedd sat them down
together on a bench while he went inside and brought out carrots, berries, cheese, and apple juice,
putting them on the wooden tabletop worn smooth with years of use, then sat himself on the bench
opposite them. He gave Richard a mug of something brown and thick that smelled of almonds and
told him to drink it slowly.
"When I went to my father's house after the murder, I looked in the message jar. It was about the
only thing not broken. Inside was a piece of vine. For the last three weeks, I've been looking for the
vine, trying to find out what my father's last message meant. And when I found it, well, that's the
thing that bit me." He was glad to be finished; his tongue felt thick.
"It was . . . Wait, I still have it in my pocket." He took out the sprig and plunked it down on the
table.
Richard felt a shock of icy cold sweep through him. He knew the name from the secret book. He
hoped against hope it did not mean what he feared it did.
"Darken Rahl, son of Panis Rahl, has put the three boxes of Orden in play," Kahlan said simply. "I
have come in search of the great wizard."
From the secret book, the Book of Counted Shadows, the book his father had had him commit to
memory before they destroyed it, the line jumped into his mind: And when the three boxes of
Orden are put into play, the snake vine shall grow. Richard's worst nightmares-everyone's worst
nightmares-were coming to pass
Darkness sucked his mind in; then there was light. He seemed to float back up, only to spiral down
again. He wondered who he was and what was happening. Time passed as the room spun and rolled
and tilted. He gripped the bed to keep from being flung off. Sometimes he knew where he was, and
tried desperately to hold on to what he knew . . . only to slip away again into blackness.
Until she died. He wanted to cry. She was dead. Still, she smoothed his hair. That couldn't be; it had
to be someone else. But who? Then he remembered. It was Kahlan. He spoke her name.
It came back to him, rushing back in a torrent: the murder of his father, the vine that bit him,
Kahlan, the four men on the cliff, his brother's speech; someone waiting for him at his house, the
gar, the night wisp telling him to seek the answer or die; what Kahlan said, that the three boxes of
Orden were in play; and his secret, the Book of Counted Shadows ....
His father chose Richard. That it was to be Richard and not Michael was for reasons of his own. No
one could know of the book, not even Michael; only the keeper of the book, no one else, only the
keeper. He said Richard might never find the keeper, and in that case he was to pass the book on to
his child, and then that child to his own, and so on, for as long as was necessary. His father couldn't
tell him who the keeper of the book was, as he didn't know. Richard asked how he was to know the
keeper, but his father said only that he would have to find the answer himself, and not to tell
anyone, ever, except the keeper. His father told Richard he was not to tell his own brother, or even
his best friend, Zedd.
His father had never once looked in the book, only Richard. Day after day, week after week, with
breaks only when he traveled, his father took him to the secret place deep in the woods, where he
sat and watched Richard reading the book, over and over. Michael was usually off with his friends,
and had no interest in going into the woods even if he was at home, and it wasn't uncommon for
Richard not to visit Zedd when his father was home, so neither had reason to know of the frequent
trips to the woods.
Richard never resented having to learn the book; he considered it an honor to be entrusted by his
father. He wrote the book from beginning to end a hundred times without error before he satisfied
himself that he could never forget a single word. He knew by reading it that any word left out
would spell disaster.
Together they built a fire, stacking on more than enough wood, until the heat drove them back. His
father handed him the book, and told him that if he was sure, to throw the book into the fire.
Richard held the Book of Counted Shadows in the crook of his arm, running his fingers over the
leather cover. He held his father's trust in his arms, held the trust of everyone in his arms, and he
felt the weight of the burden. He gave the book to the fire. In that moment, he was no longer a
child.
Richard knew what he had seen; he had seen magic.
"Where's Zedd?" he asked, sleepy-eyed.
Richard realized, for the first time, that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her
hair was tumbled down around her face and shoulders, and he wanted very much to touch it, but
didn't. It was enough to feel her hand on his shoulder, to know she was there and that he was not
alone.
"I would rather fight another quad than another snake vine."
something with him, as she wiped his brow with the cloth. He reached up and grabbed her wrist.
She stopped and looked into his eyes.
She looked at him reassuringly. "I like him, too. Very much. He is a good man, just as you said. I
have no desire to hurt him. Only to seek his help in finding the wizard."
"Richard, everything will be fine. He will help us."
"I have already made promises, to others, some of whom have given their lives. I have
responsibilities to the lives of others. Many others."
She put her other hand on the side of his face. "I am sorry, Richard, I cannot."
"Kahlan, this fever is making me foolish. Please forgive me. I have never met another with your
courage. I know you are trying to save us all. Zedd will help us; I will see to it. Promise me only
that you will wait until I am better. Give me the chance to convince him."
He tried not to close his eyes, since when he did, everything started spinning uncontrollably. But
talking had sapped his strength, and soon the blackness pulled him back in. His thoughts were once
again sucked into the void. Sometimes he came partway back and wandered in troubled dreams;
sometimes he wandered in places empty even of illusion.
"Cat? Cat! Where have you gotten to? Well, you can just stay out here then." The door squeaked
open. "There you are." The cat ran out the doorway. "Suit yourself," Zedd called after him. "How is
Richard?" he called to her.
"I wouldn't be here otherwise. Did he have anything to say when he was awake?"
He turned and went back into the front room, grumbling. "Not without good reason."
Zedd collected a bowl and cloth and after a while called to Kahlan to come help him. She came
quickly to his side and he instructed her how to hold the cloth over the bowl while he poured the
mixture through.
Zedd went into the bedroom, bent over Richard, and found him to be deeply unconscious. He
turned and saw that Kahlan's back was to him as she worked at her task. He bent over, placing a
middle finger to Richard's forehead. Richard's eyes snapped open.
Richard blinked. "Zedd? Are you all right? Is everything all right?"
Kahlan came in holding the bowl carefully, trying not to spill any. Zedd helped Richard sit up so he
could drink. When he finished, Zedd helped him to lie back down.
"Thank you, Zedd . . . ." Richard was asleep before he could say more.
"It is dangerous for a Confessor to travel alone, dear one. Where is your wizard?"
Zedd gave a disapproving scowl. "He abandoned his responsibilities to the Confessors? What is his
name?"
"Giller." He repeated the name with a sour expression, then leaned toward her a bit. "So why did
another not come with you?"
"Yes, yes. I lived in the Midlands a long time."
Zedd smiled, rearranged his robes, and seated himself again. "You are persistent, dear one. Yes, I
knew the old wizard, once. But even if you could find him, I don't think he would have anything to
do with this business. He would not be inclined to help the Midlands."
"Zedd, there are many people who disapprove of the High Council of the Midlands and its greed.
They wish it were not so, but they are just common people who have no say. They only wish to live
their lives in peace. Darken Rahl has taken the food that was stored for the coming winter and
given it to the army. They waste it, or let it rot, or sell it back to the people they stole it from.
Already there is hunger; this winter there will be death. Fire has been outlawed. People are cold.
"The wizards were under constant threat, and forbidden by edict from using magic. They knew that
sooner or later they would be used against the people. They may have made mistakes' in the past,
and disappointed their teacher, but the most important thing they were taught was to be protectors
of the people and in . no way to bring them harm. As their most loving act for the people, they gave
their lives to stop Darken Rahl. I think their teacher would have been proud.
Zedd showed no emotion, offered no objection or opinion, only listened. He continued to allow her
to hold his hands.
There was bitterness in her expression. "Zedd, Darken Rahl has used quads to kill all the other
Confessors. I found my sister after they were finished with her. She died in my arms. With all the
others dead, that leaves only me. The wizards knew their teacher did not want to help, so they sent
me as the last hope. If he is too foolish to see that in helping me, he helps himself, then I must use
my power against him, to make him help."
"He must appoint a Seeker."
Confused, Kahlan leaned back a little. "What do you mean?"
"I don't understand. I thought the wizard picked the person, the right person."
"The Seeker is a balance point of power. The council made the appointment a political bone to be
thrown to one of the sniveling dogs at their feet. It was a sought-after post because of the power a
Seeker wields. But the council didn't understand: it wasn't the post that brought the power to the
person, it was the person that brought the power to the post."
"I know the feeling well," she said, with only the hint of a smile.
She took up his hands again. "Zedd, we must try. It is our only chance. If we don't take it, we have
none."
"That is the other reason I was sent. To be his guide, and stand with him, to offer my life if need be,
to help protect him. Confessors spend their life traveling the lands. I have been almost everywhere
in the Midlands. A Confessor is trained from birth in languages. She has to be, because she never
knows where she will be called. I speak every major language, and most of the minor ones. And as
far as drawing lightning, a Confessor draws her fair share. If we were easy to kill, Rahl would not
need to send quads to get the job done. And many of them have died in the doing. I can help protect
the Seeker; if need be, with my own life."
She raised an eyebrow. "I am hunted now. If you have a better way, put words to it."
Kahlan stood up next to him as he lifted Richard's arm by the wrist, holding the wounded hand over
the tin plate. Blood dripped onto the plate with soft, hollow sounds. The thorn fell out with a small,
wet splash. Kahlan reached for it.
She took her hand back as he put his bony finger on the plate several inches from the thorn. It
wiggled its way toward the finger, leaving a thin trail of blood. He took his finger away and handed
her the plate. "Hold it from underneath, and take it to the hearth. Put it on the fire, facedown, and
leave it there."
"Why have you not told him what you are, that you are a Confessor?" There was a hard edge to his
voice.
When she finished, Zedd put a finger under her chin, raising her face to his gentle smile. "When I
first saw you, I reacted foolishly. Mostly to the surprise of seeing a Confessor. I had not expected
ever to see one again. I quit the Midlands to be free of the magic. You were an intrusion into my
solitude. I apologize for my reaction and for making you feel unwelcome. I hope I have made it up
to you. I am one who has respect for the Confessors, perhaps more than you will ever know. You
are a good woman, and you are welcome in my house."
Zedd's expression turned more dangerous than hers had when they had first met. She stood frozen
with his finger still under her chin, afraid to move, her eyes wide.
She swallowed hard and managed to give a weak nod. "Yes."
Kahlan let her breath out and, not willing to be intimidated, grabbed his arm, turning him back to
her. "Zedd, I would not do that to him, not because of what you said, but because I care for him. I
want you to understand that."
"If offered a choice, dear one, that is the way I would prefer it."
"There is one thing you have left unspoken. You have not asked for my help in finding the wizard."
Zedd put a bony finger to his chin. "How interesting." He laid his hand on her shoulder
conspiratorially, and changed the subject. "You know, dear one, you might make a good Seeker
yourself."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Of course. Some of the best Seekers have been women."
Zedd chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Perhaps you are right. Now, it's very late, dear one. Go to my
bed in the next room and get yourself some needed sleep. I will sit with Richard."
Zedd shrugged. "As you wish." He walked behind her and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "As
you wish:" He gently reached up and put a middle finger to each of her temples, rubbing in little
circles. She moaned softly as her eyes closed. "Sleep, dear one," he whispered, "sleep." She folded
her arms down onto the edge of the bed, and her head sank onto her arms. She was deeply asleep.
After he put a blanket over her, Zedd went to the front room and pulled open the door, looking out
into the night.
-+---
The wind whipped Zedd's robes as he walked the narrow path through the tall grass. The clouds
were thin, illuminated by the moon, which gave enough light to see by, even though he didn't need
it; he had walked the same route thousands of times.
Near a stand of trees he stopped, listening. Slowly, he turned about, peering into the shadows,
watching the branches bend and sway in the breeze, testing the air with his nose. He searched for an
alien movement.
From the brush near by, something came toward him in a terrible rush. Wings and fur and teeth
came charging. Hands on his hips, Zedd waited. Just before it was on him, he held up his hand,
bringing the short-tailed gar to a lurching halt. It was half again as tall as he, full grown, and twice
as fierce as a long-tailed gar. The beast growled and blinked, its great muscles flexing as it fought
against the force that kept it from reaching out and grabbing the old man. It was furious that it had
not yet killed him.
"What is your name?" he hissed. The beast grunted twice and made a sound from deep in its throat.
Zedd gave a nod. "I will remember it. Tell me, do you wish to live, or to die?" The gar struggled to
back away, but was unable to. "Good. Then you will do exactly as I say. Somewhere between here
and D'Hara, a quad comes this way. Hunt them and kill them. When you have done so, go back to
D'Hara, to where you came from. Do these things and I will let you live, but I will remember your
name, and if you fail to kill the quad, or ever come back after your task is done, I will kill you and
feed you to your flies. Do you agree to my terms?" The gar grunted an acknowledgment. "Good.
Then be gone." Zedd removed his finger from under the gar's chin.
Standing next to his cloud rock, Zedd pointed down at it and began turning his bony finger in a
circle as if stirring a stew. The massive rock grated against the ground as it tried to revolve with the
movement of Zedd's finger. The rock shuddered, trying to rotate its own weight. Popping and
snapping, it fractured, sending hairline cracks shooting across its surface. Its trembling bulk
struggled against the force being applied. The granular structure of the stone began to soften.
Unable to maintain its state any longer, the texture of the rock liquefied enough to allow its mass to
rotate with the movement of the finger above it. Gradually the speed of Zedd's stirring increased
until light erupted from the rotating liquid rock.
The rock abruptly solidified and Zedd stepped atop it, into the light. The brightness faded to a faint
glow that swirled like smoke. Before him stood two apparitions, mere shadows of form. Where
sharpness should have been, their shapes softened like a dim memory, yet they were still
recognizable, and the sight of them brought a quickness to Zedd's heart.
Zedd's arms reached out, but could not touch her. "I am troubled by what the Mother Confessor
tells me."
He closed his eyes and nodded as his arms lowered with hers. "It's true, then, all my students, save
Giller, are dead."
"The High Council sowed these seeds," he protested, frowning. "Now you want me to help? They
turned my advice away. Let them live and die by their own greed."
Zedd scowled. "Because they put themselves before their duty to help their people."
Zedd's fists tightened. "My help was offered, but turned away."
"Zeddicus," his mother said, "would you let Richard die too, and all the other innocents? Appoint
the Seeker."
She shook her head with a gentle smile. "He will not get the chance to grow older."
"Darken Rahl hunts Richard. The cloud that shadows him was sent by Rahl to track him. The snake
vine was put in the jar by Darken Rahl, in the expectation that Richard would search for it, and it
would bite him. The snake vine wasn't meant to kill; Rahl sought to have him put to sleep by the
fever until he could come for him." Her form drifted closer, her voice becoming more loving. "You
know in your heart you have been watching him, hoping he would show himself to be the one."
"No," his father said, "he has only two. He still seeks the third."
"No," his mother said, "but he soon will."
"No. He searches for it."
His mother's features sharpened into a look of ice. "A very dangerous one. He travels the
underworld." Zedd stiffened, and his breath caught in his throat. His mother's eyes seemed to pierce
him. "That is how he was able to cross the boundary and recover the first box: by traveling the
underworld. That is how he was able to begin the undoing of the boundary: from within the
underworld. He commands some in it, more with his every coming. If you choose to help, be
warned: do not go through the boundary, or send the Seeker through. Rahl expects it. If you enter,
he will have you. The Mother Confessor came through only because he did not expect it. He will
not make the same mistake again."
"We're sorry, but we don't know. We believe there must be a way, but it is not known to us. That is
why you must appoint the Seeker. If he is the right one, he will find a way." Their forms began to