father. It's not just you anymore; I can't go home either. I think I have a right to know at least some
of what's going on. I'm your friend, not your enemy.

"Once, when I was little, I got a fever and almost died. Zedd found a root that saved me. Until
today, that was the only time I've ever been close to death. Today I was close three times. What do
I . . ."

Her fingertips touched his lips to silence him.

"You're right. I will answer your questions. Except about me. For now, I cannot."

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.

"You promised me a fire," she said as she shivered. "Is it a promise you intend to keep?"

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."

She looked up and give him a worried frown.

"Right," he smiled, "we'll find another wayward pine up the trail."

"What is a wayward pine?" she asked

CHAPTER 5


RICHARD HELD BACK THE boughs of the tree. "This is a wayward pine," he announced.
"Friend to any traveler."

It was dark inside. Kahlan held the boughs aside so he could see by the moonlight to strike steel to
flint and start a fire. Clouds scudded across the moon, and they could see their breath in the cold
air. Richard had stayed here before on trips to and from Zedd's, and had made a small fire pit of
stones. There was dry wood and to the far side a stack of dry grass he had used for bedding. Since
he didn't have his knife he was thankful he had left a supply of tinder. The fire was quickly started,
filling the interior of the tree's skirt with flickering light.

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.

Now he was especially glad for its concealing shelter. Before their encounter with the long-tailed
gar, there had been plants and animals in the forest he had strong respect for, but there had been
nothing in the woods he feared.

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.

"I never heard of wayward pines before. I am not used to staying in the woods when I travel, but
they look like a wonderful place to sleep." She looked even more tired than he.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Two days ago, I think. It has all become a blur."

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.

"Why so long?"

"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.

A chill ran through him when he wondered what was in the boundary, and what would happen if
you went to sleep there.

"Hungry?"

She nodded her head.

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.

Every bug that looped past made him recoil in fear it was a blood fly, and several times he froze in
midstep, only to exhale in relief when he saw it was only a snowy tree cricket, or a moth, or a
lacewing. Shadows melted and materialized as clouds passed in front of the moon. He didn't want
to, but he looked up any- way. Stars winked off and back on as soft, gauzelike clouds moved
silently across the sky. All except one, which did not move.

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.

"I've never seen anything like a gar. The Midlands must be a dreadful place."

"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."

He stared in astonishment. "D'Hara! From across the second boundary?"

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.

"Richard-" She paused as if afraid to tell him the rest. "-there is no longer a second boundary. The
boundary between the Midlands and D'Hara is down. Since the spring."

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 my brother is more of a prophet than he knows."

"Maybe," she said noncommittally.

"Although it would be hard to make a living as a prophet by predicting events that had already
taken place." He gave her a sidelong glance.

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."

"Michael ,is in a position to have knowledge others don't

Maybe he's trying to prepare the people, get them used to the idea, so when they find out, they
won't panic."

Michael often said that information was the coin of power, and that it was not a coin to be spent
frivolously. After he had be come a councilor, he encouraged people to bring their information to
him first. Even a farmer with a tale received an ear, and if the tale proved true, a favor.

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.

Kahlan looked surprised. "Where did those come from? Did you snatch those from your brother's
party?" Her voice carried a tone of disapproval.

"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."

"He will not think much of your manners."

"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."

She grinned. "At least you had the good sense to pick the best of the sausages."

That eased the tension. They both laughed.

"Kahlan, I don't understand, about the boundary, I mean. I don't even know what the boundary is,
except it's meant to keep the lands separated so there will be peace. And of course every- n one
knows that whoever goes into the boundary will not come 1 out alive. Chase and the boundary
wardens patrol to make sure people stay away for their own good."

"Young people here are not taught the histories of the three lands?"

"No. I always thought it odd myself, because I wanted to know, but no one would ever tell me
much. People think I'm strange because I want to know, and I ask questions. Older people seem
suspicious when I ask, and tell me it was too long ago to remember, or give some other excuse.

"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."

Kahlan snapped a piece off a dry stick and tossed it into the fire, where it flamed into a bright
ember.

"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.

"Long ago, back in the time before our parents were born, D'Hara was just a confederation of
kingdoms, as was the Midlands. The most ruthless of the D'Haran rulers was Panis Rahl. He was
avaricious. From the first day of his reign, he started swallowing up all of D'Hara for himself, one
kingdom after another, many times before the ink was dry on a peace treaty. In the end, he held
sway over all of D'Hara, but instead of satisfying him, it only whetted his appetite, and he soon
turned his attention to the lands that are now the Midlands. The Midlands is a loose confederation
of free lands; free, at leas, to rule as they see fit, and only so long as they live in peace with one
another.

"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

"Panis Rahl threw the might of D'Hara against them. War raged for many years."

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."

"What kind of magic? What did he do?"

"Some was trickery, sickness, fevers, but the worst of it was the shadow people."

Richard frowned. "Shadow people? What were they?"

"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."

She pulled her hand back inside the blanket. "When Panis Rahl started using the magic in that way,
a great and honorable wizard joined the side of the Midlands cause."

"What was his name, this great and honorable wizard?"

"That is part of the story. Have patience until I get to it."

Richard stirred some spices into the soup, listening intently while she resumed her story.

"Many thousands had already died in battle, but the magic killed many more. It was a dark time,
after all those years of struggle, to have so many-taken by the magic Rahl called forth. But with the
help of the great wizard holding Panis Rahl's magic in check, his legions were driven back into
D'Hara."

Richard added a stick of birch to the fire. "How did this great and honorable wizard stop the
shadow people?"

"He conjured up battle horns for the armies. When the shadow people came, our men blew the
horns and magic swept the shadow people away like smoke in the wind. It turned the course of
battle to our side.

"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."

Richard watched as she looked away. "So what are they?"

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.

Kahlan stared into the fire. "Me boundaries are part of the underworld: the dominion of the dead.
They were conjured into our world by magic, to separate the three lands. They are like a curtain
drawn across our world. A rift in the world of the living."

"You mean that going into the boundary is, what, like falling through a crack into another world?
Into the underworld?"

She shook her head. "No. Our -world is still here. The underworld is there in the same place at the
same time. It is about a two-day walk across the land where the boundary, the underworld, lies. But
while you are walking the land where the boundary is, you are also walking through the
underworld. It is a wasteland. Any life that touches the underworld, or is touched by it, is touching
death. That is why no one can cross the boundary. If you enter it, you enter the land of the dead. No
one can return from the dead."

"Then how did you?"

She swallowed as she watched the fire. "With magic. The boundary was brought here with magic,
so the wizards reasoned they could get me safely through with the aid and protection of magic. It
was frightfully difficult for them to cast the spells. They were dealing in things they didn't fully
understand, dangerous things, and they weren't the ones who conjured the boundary into this world,
so they weren't sure it would work. None of us knew what to expect." Her voice was weak, distant.
"Even though I came through, I fear I will never be able to entirely leave it."

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.

"Tell me what you saw there," he whispered.

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.

"At first," she said in a distant tone, "it was like walking into the sheets of cold fire you see at night
in the northern sky." Her chest began heaving. "Inside, it is beyond darkness." Her eyes were wide,
wet. A small moan escaped with her breath. "There is . . . someone . . . with me."

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.

"My . . . mother," she sobbed, "I haven't seen her in so many years ... and ... my dead sister ...
Dennee.-.. I'm so alone . . . and afraid. . . ." As she cried, she started gasping for air.

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.

"Kahlan, look at me! Look at me!"

"Dennee . . . " she gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to break free of him.

"Kahlan!"

"I'm so alone . . . and afraid. . . ."

"Kahlan! I'm here with you! Look at me!"

She continued to cry convulsively, choking for air. Her eyes opened, but they didn't focus on him;
they were looking into another place.

"You're not alone, I'm here with you! I won't leave you!"

"I'm so alone," she wailed.

He shook her, trying to make her listen. Her skin was white and dead cold. She struggled to
breathe. "I'm right here. You're not alone!" Desperate, he shook her again, but it wasn't helping. He
was losing her.

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.

He spoke her name in a calm voice. "Let me help you. You are not alone. I am here with you. Let
me help you. Take my strength."

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.

"Kahlan, I am here. I won't leave you. You are not alone. I am your friend. Trust in me." He gently
squeezed her shoulders. "Come back to me. Please."

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.

"Richard?" She called out the name as if searching for him.

He squeezed her shoulders again. "I'm here. I won't leave you. Come back to me."

She started breathing again. Her eyes focused on his face. Relief flooded her features when she
recognized him, and she began to cry in what seemed a more normal way. She collapsed against
him and held him as she would a rock in a river. He held her to him and let her cry on his shoulder
while he told her it was all right. He was so afraid he had lost her to the underworld that he didn't
want to let go of her either.

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.

The fire lent a soft red cast to the inside of the wayward pine, and in the silence it seemed a secure
haven again. An illusion, he knew. He held her and stroked her hair and rocked her gently for a
long time. Something in the way she clung to him made him realize that no one had held her and
comforted her for a very long time.

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.

Pushing herself off his shoulder, she sat up, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I should not have touched you
in that manner. I was . . ."

"It's all right, Kahlan. It is the first responsibility of a friend to provide a shoulder to cry on."

She nodded but didn't raise her head. Richard felt her eyes on him as he took the soup off the fire to
let it cool a little. He put another piece of wood into the flames, sending sparks swirling up with the
smoke.

"How do you do that?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Do what?"

"How do you ask questions that fill my mind with pictures and make me answer, even when I have
no intention to?"

He shrugged, a little self-conscious. "Zedd asks me that too. I guess it's just something I was born
with. Sometimes I think it's a curse." He turned from the fire to face her again. "I'm sorry, Kahlan,
for asking you what you saw there. It was a thoughtless thing to do. Sometimes my common sense
doesn't keep up with my curiosity. I'm sorry I brought you pain. You being pulled back into the
underworld, though, that shouldn't have happened, should it?"

"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."

Richard picked up the spoon while he thought. "Maybe just that you weren't alone."

Kahlan gave a weak shrug. "Maybe."

"I only have one spoon. We can share it." He took a spoonful of soup and blew on it before tasting
it. "Not my best work, but it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." That had the desired
effect: she smiled. He gave her the spoon.

"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."

She nodded. "I understand. It's all right."

He let her eat some soup before he went on. "So what happened after the boundaries went up?
What about the great wizard?"

Before handing him the spoon she took a piece of sausage. "One more thing happened before they
went up. While the great wizard was holding the magic at bay, Panis Rahl took a final revenge. He
sent a quad out of D'Hara . . . . They killed the wizard's wife, and his daughter."

Richard stared at her. "What did the wizard do to Rahl?"

"He held Rahl's magic back and held him in D'Hara until just as the boundary was going up. At that
very moment he sent a ball of wizard's fire through it, letting it touch death, to give it the power of
both worlds. Then the boundaries were there."

Richard had never heard of wizard's fire, but he didn't think it required an explanation. "So what
happened to Panis Rahl?"

"Well, the boundaries were there, so no one can say for sure, but I don't think anyone would have
traded their lot for that of 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.

"At first everything was fine, but then the council of the Mid lands started taking actions the great
wizard said were corrupt. Something to do with the magic. He found out the council had reneged
on agreements about how the power of magic was to be controlled. He told them that their greed
and the things they were doing would lead to worse horrors than those put down in the wars. They
thought they knew better than he how the magic should be managed. They made a political
appointment of a very important position that was a wizard's and a wizard's alone to fill. He was
furious, he told them the position was one for which only a wizard could find the right person, and
the appointment only a wizard's to make. The great wizard had trained other wizards, but in their
greed, these others sided with the council. He was enraged. He said his wife and daughter had died
for nothing. As punishment, the great wizard told them he would do the worst thing possible to
them; he would leave them to suffer the consequences of their actions."

Richard smiled. That sounded like something Zedd would say.

"He said that if they knew so well how things were to be done, they did not need him. He refused to
help them further, and vanished. But as he left, he cast a wizard's web . . ."

"What's that, a wizard's web?"

"It is a spell a wizard casts. As he left, he cast a wizard's web over everyone, making them forget
his name, even what he looked like. So that is why no one knows what his name is or who he is."

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.

"At the beginning of last winter,-the movement started."

He backed the spoonful of soup away from his mouth as he looked up. "What movement?"

"The Darken Rahl movement. It seemed to spring up out of nowhere. All of a sudden crowds of
people in the bigger cities were chanting his name, calling him `Father Rahl,' calling him the
greatest man of peace that ever lived. The strange thing is, he is the son of Panis Rahl, from D'
Hara, on the other side of the boundary, so how did anyone even know anything about him?" She
paused, allowing him to ponder the significance of this.

"Anyway, then the gars started coming over the boundary

They killed a lot of people before everyone learned to stay inside at night."

"But how did they get across the boundary?"

"It was weakening, only no one knew it. As it weakened, it faded from the top first, so the gars
could fly over. In the spring it faded completely away. Then the People's Peace Army, Darken
Rahl's army, marched right into the bigger cities. Instead of fighting him, crowds of Midlanders
threw flowers at them wherever they went. People who didn't throw flowers were hung."

Richard stared wide-eyed. "The army killed them?"

She looked at him hard. "No. The flower throwers did. Said they were a threat to peace, so they
killed them. The People's Peace Army never had to lift a finger. The movement said that proved
Darken Rahl only wanted peace, since his army didn't kill the dissenters. After a time, the army
stepped in and stopped the killing. Instead, the dissenters were sent to the schools of enlightenment
to learn about the greatness of Father Rahl, about what a man of peace he is."

"And did they learn at these schools of enlightenment how great Darken Rahl is?"

"No one is as fanatical as a convert. Most just sit around all day, chanting his name."

"So the Midlands didn't fight back?"

"Darken Rahl went before the council and' asked them to join him in an alliance of peace. Those
who did were held up as champions of harmony. Those who did not were held up as traitors, and
publicly executed on the spot by Darken Rahl himself."

"How did . . .

She held up her hand and closed her eyes. "Darken Rahl has a curved knife he keeps at his belt. He
takes great pleasure in using it. Please, Richard, do not ask me to tell you what he did to those men.
My stomach cannot bear its recounting."

"I was going to ask how the wizards reacted to all this."

"Oh. Well, it started to open their eyes.

"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

be like saying you are a criminal for having two arms and two legs, and must have them cut them
off. Then he outlawed fire."

His eyes came up from the soup. "Fire? Why?"

"Darken Rahl does not explain his orders. But wizards use fire. Even so he does not fear wizards.
He has more power than his father ever did, more than any wizard. His followers give all kinds of
reasons, the main one being that it was used against Darken Rahl's father, so fire is a sign of
disrespect to the house of Rahl."

"That's why you wanted to sit in front of a fire."

She nodded. "To have a fire in the wrong place in the Midlands, without the approval of Darken
Rahl or his followers, is to invite death." She pushed at the dirt with a stick. "Maybe in Westland,
too. Your brother seems close to outlawing fire. Maybe . . ."

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."

She looked up at him from under her eyebrows. "He didn't seem to care about hurting you."

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.

"One time Father came home with a vase that had these little figures sculpted around the top, like
they were dancing on the rim. He was proud of it. He said it was old, and he thought he could get a
gold piece for it. Michael said he could get more. They argued, and finally Father let Michael take
the vase to sell. Michael came back and threw four gold pieces on the table. My father just stared at
them for the longest time. Then he said, in a real quiet voice, that the vase wasn't worth four gold
pieces, and wanted to know what Michael had told the people. Michael said he told them what they
wanted to hear. Father reached out to pick up the four coins, and Michael slapped his hand over
them. He picked up three and said only one was for my father, because one was all he expected to
get. Then he said, `That is the value of my friends, George.'

"Mat was the first time Michael called him 'George.' My father never let him sell anything for him
again.

"But do you know what Michael did with the money? The next time my father left on a trip, he paid
off most of the family debts. He didn't even buy anything for himself.

"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."

Kahlan didn't look up. She pushed at the dirt a moment more and then tossed the stick in the fire.
"I'm sorry, Richard. I shouldn't be so suspicious. I know how much it hurts to lose your mother. I'm
sure you're right." Finally, she looked up. "Forgive me?"

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."

She nodded her agreement with a smile as he handed her the last of 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?"

"The Midlands is a big place; the People's Peace Army occupies only a few of the larger cities.
People in many areas ignore the alliance. Rahl does not really care. He considers it a petty problem.
His attention has been diverted to something else. The wizards found out his real goal was the
magic the great wizard had warned the council about, the magic they had mishandled for their own
avarice. With the magic Darken Rahl seeks, he will be master of all, without having to fight
anyone.

"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."

"You said five wizards. How many are there?"

"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."

"So they believed him to be in Westland?"

Kahlan dropped the spoon in the empty pot. "Yes. He is here."

"And they thought this great wizard could stop Darken Rahl, even though they could not?"
Something was wrong with this story, and Richard wasn't sure he wanted to know what was
coming next.

"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."

By the care with which she was choosing her words, he knew she was dancing around secrets he
was not to ask about, so he didn't, and instead asked, "Why didn't they come after him themselves,
and ask him to do it?"

"Because they feared he would say no, and they did not have the power to force him."

"Five wizards did not have the power of this one?"

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

"And . . ." He didn't say anything else. With his silence he let her know his next question, and that
he would have the answer to it.

At last, she gave him the answer in a soft whisper.

"And so they sent me, because I do."

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.

"How are you to know this wizard?"

"I only know I must find him, and soon, or we are all lost."

Richard thought in silence. "Zedd will help us," he said at last. "He's a cloud reader. Finding lost
people is what a cloud reader does."

Kahlan gave him a suspicious look. "That sounds like magic. There is not supposed to be any
magic in Westland."

"He says it's not; that anyone can learn. He's always trying to teach me. He mocks me whenever I
say it looks like it will rain. His eyes get real big and he says, `Magic! You must have magic, my
boy, to read the clouds and know the future so.' "

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.

She opened her waist pouch and pulled something out. Untying a string, she laid back the folds of a
waxed cloth that held a tan substance. Dipping her finger in it, she turned to him. "This will help
the fly bites heal. Turn your head."

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.

"Here, put some on this, too."

"Richard! What have you done?" "I was stuck by a thorn, this morning."

She dabbed the ointment carefully on his wound. "I have never seen a thorn do this."

"It was a big thorn. I'm sure I'll be better by morning."

The ointment didn't help the pain as much as he had hoped, but he told her that it did, not wanting
to worry her. His hand was nothing compared to the things she had to worry about. He watched as
she retied the string around the little package and replaced it in her waist pouch. Her forehead was
creased in thought.

"Richard, are you afraid of magic?"

He thought carefully before answering. "I was always fascinated by it; it sounded exciting. But now
I know there is magic to fear. But I would guess it's like people: some you stay clear of and some
you are fortunate to know."

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."

Richard smiled at the honor. "Promise."

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.

Her green eyes came to his. "The creature is a night wisp. Her name is Shar. A night wisp cannot be
seen in the day, only at night. Shar is part of the magic that helped me cross the boundary; she was
my guide. Without her, I would have been lost."

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."

Pulling the stopper free, Kahlan placed the little bottle in the flat of her palm and held it out
between them

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, Richard Cypher," it said in a tiny little voice.

"Good evening to you, Shar." His own voice was not much more than a whisper.

"Thank you for helping Kahlan today. In so doing you are also helping my kind. If you ever need
the help of the night wisps, say my name and they will help you, for no enemy may know it."

"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."

The night wisp seemed to turn in the air for a time, considering. The silvery light felt warm and
safe on his face.

"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.

Shar spun to a stop. "But know this; Darken Rahl hunts you both. He will not rest. He will not stop.
If you run, he will find you. There is no doubt of that. You have no defense against him. He will
kill you both. Soon."

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?"

The light spun again, making flashes on his face and the branches of the wayward pine.

Shar stopped again. "If your back is to him, your eyes will not be. He will get you. He enjoys it."

Richard stared. "But . . . is there nothing we can do?"

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."

. "How soon?" His voice turned harder, he couldn't help him

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.

The night wisp stopped. "The first day of winter, Richard Cypher. When the sun is in the sky. If
Darken Rahl does not kill you before then, and if he is not stopped, then on the first day of winter
when the sun is in the sky, my kind will all die. You both will die. He will enjoy it."

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?"

The light spun and went in a little circle around the inside of the wayward pine, bringing light to the
areas it went near. It stopped again in front of him.

"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."

Richard nodded, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't know who was more frustrated,
Shar or himself. Glancing over, he saw Kahlan sitting calmly, watching the night wisp. Shar spun
and waited.

"All right, can you tell me why he's trying to kill me? Is it because I help Kahlan, or is there another
reason?"

Shar came close. "Other reasons? Secrets?"

"What!" Richard jumped to his feet. The night wisp followed him up.

"Don't know why. Sorry. Just that he will."

"What's the wizard's name?"

"Good question, Richard Cypher. Sorry. Don't know."

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.

"Shay, thank you for helping Kahlan. My life, as short as it seems it will be, has already been made
longer because she saved me from doing something foolish today. My life is also better for
knowing her. Thank you for helping bring my friend safely through the boundary." His vision
turned watery.

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.

"I am sorry, Richard Cypher. I do not know the answers that would save you. If I did, please
believe I would give them eagerly. But I know the good in you. I believe in you. I do know that you
have within you what you must to succeed. There will be times when you doubt yourself. Do not
give up. Remember then that I believe in you, that I know you can accomplish what you must. You
are a rare person, Richard Cypher: Believe in yourself. And protect Kahlan."

He realized his eyes were closed. Tears were running down freely, and the lump in his throat kept
catching his breath.

"There are no gars about. Please let me be alone with Kahlan now. My time comes."

Richard nodded. "Good-bye, Shar. It has been my deep honor to have known you."

He left without looking at either of them.

-+---
After he was gone, the night wisp floated to Kahlan and addressed her properly.

"Mother Confessor, my time passes soon. Why have you not told him what you are?"

Kahlan's shoulders were slumped, and her hands nested in her lap as she stared into the fire. "Shar,
I cannot, not yet."

"Confessor Kahlan, that is not fair. Richard Cypher is your friend."

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."

She looked up at the night wisp, her eyes wet. "I will tell him before that happens."

"You play a dangerous game, Confessor Kahlan," Shar warned. "He could fall in love with. you
first. Then your telling would hurt him unforgivably."

"I won't let that happen."

"You will choose him?"

"No!"

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."

"I could not do that to someone I cared for. No Confessor would," she sobbed.

"Sorry, Mother Confessor. It is for you to choose."

Kahlan pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead against her
knees. Her shoulders heaved as she cried, her thick hair cascading down to encircle her. Shar flew
slowly around her head, throwing off shafts of silvery light, comforting her companion. She
continued to circle until Kahlan's weeping slowed and finally stopped. When it did, Shar returned
to hover in front of her.

"Hard to be Mother Confessor. Sorry."

"Hard," Kahlan agreed.

"Much on your shoulders."

"Much," Kahlan agreed again.

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.

"Wish to stay with you more. Good times. Wish to stay with Richard Cypher. Asks good questions.
But I cannot hold on longer. Sorry. I die."

"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?"

Kahlan pushed herself away from the wisp until her back was against the trunk of the tree. "No . . .
please . . . no," she implored, shaking her head. "Don't ask me to do that." Her eyes filled with tears
again. She put her trembling fingers to her lips, trying to hold back the crying.

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?"

Shar's light was growing dimmer, fainter. Kahlan, crying, held her left hand over her mouth. At
last, she reached out with her right hand, until her trembling fingers touched the wisp.

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.

Shar's voice was faint. "Thank you, Kahlan. Good-bye, my love."

The spark of light and life faded and was gone.

-+---
After the thunder without sound, Richard waited for a time before he returned to her. Kahlan sat
with her arms around her legs and her chin resting on her knees as she stared into the fire.

"Shar?" he asked.

"She is gone," came the answer in a distant voice.

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

74

would put its back to a parent when peril approached. He sensed it, too. Something was coming for
them. Something deadly.

Already, she was asleep. He knew he should feel cold, but he didn't. His hand throbbed. He felt
warm. Richard lay there, thinking about the thunder without sound. He wondered what she would
do to make the great wizard do what she wanted. The idea frightened him. Before he could worry
more he, too, was asleep

CHAPTER 6


BY NOON THE NEXT day, Richard knew the bite of the vine was bringing on a fever. He had no
appetite. At times he was unbearably hot, sweat making his clothes stick to his skin; then he would
shiver with chills. His head pounded in a way that made him sick to his stomach. There was
nothing he could do about it, except seek Zedd's help, and since they were nearly there he decided
not to tell Kahlan. Dreams had troubled his sleep, whether from the fever or the things he had
learned, he didn't know. What Shar had told him was the most disturbing: seek the answer or die.

The sky was thinly overcast, the cold gray light foretelling the coming of winter. Trees grown large
and close held back the breeze and its chill, making the trail a quiet sanctuary filled with the
aromatic fragrance of balsam fir: a refuge from winter's breath above.

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.

Richard finished before Kahlan, and waited, leaning against a log, wondering what she was doing.
When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she lifted the hem of her dress and knelt beside the
pond, floating the wood out onto the water. She sat back on her boots with her hands folded in her
lap, watching for a time as the small raft of flowers drifted out onto the quiet water. When she
turned and saw him leaning against the log, she stood and joined him.

"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?"

He held out an apple. "Nothing. Here, eat this."

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.

Shock raced through his mind. He went rigid. Something told him not to move. "Don't you like
apples? I'm sorry, I'll find you something else to eat."

The fury in-her eyes faltered, changing to doubt. "What did you call them?"

"Apples," he said, still not moving. "Don't you know what apples are? They're good to eat, I
promise. What did you think they were?"

Her hand loosened its grip a little. "You eat these . . . apples?"

Richard kept himself still. "Yes. All the time."

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."

Richard laughed as the tension went out in a rush. Kahlan laughed, too, while protesting that it
wasn't funny. He took a bite to show her, then offered her another. This time she took it, but looked
at it long and hard before taking a bite.

"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."

"I know, but there's nothing we can do until we get to Zedd's. We're almost there."

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.

Zedd's "reason" chair was empty. The reason chair was where Zedd sat and thought until he figured
out the reason for whatever it was that had snagged his curiosity. He had once sat in the chair for
three days straight, trying to figure out why people were always arguing over how many stars there
were. He himself didn't care. He thought the question trivial, and he only wondered why people
spent so much time debating the subject. At last he stood and pronounced that it was because
anyone could express his profound conviction on the subject without fear of being proven wrong,
as it was impossible to know the answer. Such fools simply didn't have to worry about
contradiction when proclaiming expertise. Having settled the matter, Zedd then went in the house
and ate in earnest for three solid hours.

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."

"Cloud rock?" Kahlan asked.

"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.

The two of them walked through the tall, wild grasses that surrounded the house and up a rise to the
top of a small barren hill, where the cloud rock sat. Zedd was standing on the flat cloud rock with
his arched back to them, his spindly arms outstretched and his wavy white hair hanging away from
his head as it tilted back in scrutiny.

Zedd was stark naked.

Richard rolled his eyes; Kahlan averted hers. Pale leathery skin draped loosely over a collection of
bony projections made him look as frail as a dry stick. Richard knew him to be anything but frail,
though. His bottom lacked any padding whatsoever, leaving the skin there to droop.

One scrawny finger rose, pointing skyward. "I knew you were coming, Richard." His voice was as
thin as the rest of him.

The plain, unadorned robes that were his only clothes lay in a heap behind him. Richard bent and
picked them up while Kahlan, smiling, turned around to avoid any further embarrassment. "Zedd,
we have company. Put on your clothes."

"Do you know how I knew you were coming?" Still he did not move or turn.

"I would say it has something to do with a cloud that has been following me for the last few days.
Here, let me help get this on you."

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!"

"I've been busy. Hold your arms up so I can help you put this on." Richard shoved the robes over
Zedd's outstretched arms and helped pull the folds down the bony body while the old man shrugged
his way into the outfit.

"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.

"Don't curse," Richard said. "And I would say the cloud is from D'Hara." Zedd's arms shot back
into the air. "D'Hara! Yes! Very good, my boy! Tell me, what gave it away for you. Was it the
texture? The density?" Zedd was becoming ever more excited as he wiggled around in his robe,
dissatisfied with the way it twisted.

"Neither. It's an assumption I make based on independent information. Zedd, as I said before, we
have company."

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time." He waved the matter away with his hand. "Independent
information, you say." He drew his forefinger and thumb down his smooth jaw. His hazel eyes lit
up. "That's very good too. Very good, indeed! Did this information also tell you this is bad
business? Well yes, of course it did," he said, in answer to his own question. "Why are you
sweating?" He put his twiglike fingers to Richard's forehead. "You have a fever," he pronounced.
"Did you bring me anything to eat?"

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, please listen to me. I'm in trouble, and I need your help."

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."

Richard was taken aback; Kahlan looked worried, too. Zedd knew about fevers, among other
things, and did not make precise pronouncements like this that ever proved in error. Richard's legs
had felt weak since he awoke with chills, and he knew he was getting worse. "Can you do anything
to help?"

"Probably, but it depends on what caused it. Now, stop being rude and introduce me to your
girlfriend."

"Zedd, this is my friend, Kahlan Amnell . . . ."

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.

"What are you doing with this creature!"

Kahlan was calm and impassive. Richard was aghast. "Zedd ...

"Has she touched you?"

"Well, I . . ." Richard was trying to remember the times she had touched him, when Zedd cut him
off again.

"No, of course not. I can see she hasn't. Richard, do you know what she is?" He turned to her.
"She's a . . ."

Kahlan gave Zedd a look of such cold danger that it froze him in place.

Richard kept his voice calm, but firm. "I know exactly what she is: she is my friend. A friend who
yesterday saved me from getting killed as my father was, and again saved me from being killed by
some beast called a gar." Kahlan's expression relaxed. The old man stared at her a little longer
before turning to Richard. "Zedd, Kahlan is my friend. We are both in a lot of trouble and need to
help each other." ,

Zedd stood in silence, searching Richard's eyes. He nodded. "Trouble indeed."

"Zedd, we need your help. Please?" Kahlan came and stood next to him. "We don't have much
time." Zedd didn't look inclined to be any part of it, but Richard went on anyway, watching Zedd's
eyes. "Yesterday, after I found her, she was attacked by a quad Another will come soon." He saw
what he was looking for; a quick flash of hatred, softening into empathy.

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.

Kahlan parted from him. "Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander. I have never heard such a name."

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."

"If you help Richard's fever, I will make you a big pot of spice soup," she offered.

"Spice soup!" Zedd swooned. "I haven't had a proper spice soup in years. Richard is lousy at
making it."

Richard trudged behind, the emotional strain having taken much of his remaining strength. The
casual way Zedd was handling the fever scared him. He knew this was his old friend's way of
trying not to frighten him about the seriousness of the matter. He could feel his pulse in his sore
hand.

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.

He was, however, quite disturbed by what he now knew.

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.

His eyes came to Richard. "Tell me of the trouble." Richard related how he was bitten by a vine,
and told Zedd about seeing the thing in the sky, seeing Kahlan at Trunt Lake, and being followed
by the four men. He told the whole story with every detail he could remember. He knew Zedd liked
to have every detail, no matter how unimportant. Occasionally Richard stopped to take a sip from
the mug. Kahlan ate some carrots and berries, and drank the apple juice, but she pushed away the
plate with the cheese. She nodded or offered help when he couldn't remember a particular point.
The only thing he left out was the story Kahlan had told him of the history of the three lands and
about Darken Rahl taking over the Midlands. He thought it better that she tell it in her own words.
At the end, Zedd made him go back to the beginning, wanting to know what Richard had been
doing in the high Ven in the first place.

"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.

Zedd bit off a chunk of carrot while thinking. "What did the vine look like?"

"It was . . . Wait, I still have it in my pocket." He took out the sprig and plunked it down on the
table.

"Bags!" Zedd whispered. "That's a snake vine!"

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.

Zedd sat back. "Well, the good part is now I know the root to use to cure the fever. The bad part is I
have to find it." Zedd asked Kahlan to tell her part but, to make it short, as there were things he
must do and not much time. Richard thought about the story she had told in the wayward pine the
night before, and wondered how she could possibly make it shorter.

"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."

Richard was thunderstruck

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

CHAPTER 7


PAIN AND DIZZINESS FROM the fever made Richard only dimly aware that his head had sunk
to the table. He groaned while his mind spun with the implications of what Kahlan had told Zedd;
of the prophecy of the secret Book of Counted Shadows come to life. Then Zedd was at his side,
lifting him, telling Kahlan to help get him into the house. As he walked with their help, the ground
slipped this way and that, making it difficult to catch it with his feet. Then they were laying him
down on a bed, covering him up. He knew they were talking, but he couldn't make sense of the
words, which slurred in his mind.

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.

He became aware again, realizing that time had passed, though he didn't have any idea how much.
Was it dark? Maybe it was just that the curtains were pulled. Someone, he realized, was putting a
cool, wet cloth on his forehead. His mother smoothed back his hair. Her touch felt comforting,
soothing. He could almost make out her face. She was so good, she always took such good care of
him.

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.

Kahlan was smoothing his hair. "I am here."

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 ....

He remembered how his father had taken him to the secret place in the woods, and had told him
how he had saved the Book of Counted Shadows from the peril it was in from the beast that
guarded it until its master could come. How he had brought it with him to Westland to keep it from
those covetous hands, hands that the keeper of the book didn't know threatened. His father had told
him how there was danger as long as the book existed, but he couldn't destroy the knowledge in it;
he had no right. It belonged to the keeper of the book, and it must be kept safe until it could be
returned. The only way to do that was to commit the book to memory, and then burn it. Only in that
way could the knowledge be preserved, but not stolen, as it otherwise surely would be.

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.

Richard swore on his life.

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 would write down what he memorized and check it against the book. Each time, his father
burned the papers and had him do it again. His father apologized every day for the burden he was
placing on Richard. He asked for forgiveness from his son at the end of every day in 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.

When he assured his father that it was committed to memory, they put the book back in the hiding
place in the rocks and left it for three years. After that time, when Richard was beyond his middle
teens, they returned one fall day and his father said if Richard could write the whole book, without
a single mistake, they could both be satisfied it was learned perfectly and they would burn the
book. Richard wrote without hesitation from beginning to end. It was perfect.

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.

The flames swirled around the book, embracing, caressing, consuming. Colors and forms spiraled
up, and a roaring cry came forth. Strange beams of light shot skyward. Wind made their cloaks flap
as the fire sucked leaves and twigs into itself, adding to the flames and heat. Phantoms appeared,
spreading their arms as if being fed by the blaze, their voices racing away on the wind. The two of
them stood as if turned to stone, unable to move, unable even to turn away from the sight. Searing
heat turned to wind as cold as the deepest winter night, sending chills up their spines, taking their
breath from them. Then the cold was gone and the fire turned to a white light that consumed
everything in its brightness, as if they were standing in the sun. Just as suddenly, it was gone. In its
place, silence. The fire was out. Wisps of smoke rose slowly from the blackened wood into the
autumn air. The book was gone.

Richard knew what he had seen; he had seen magic.

-+---
Richard felt a hand resting on his shoulder and opened his eyes. It was Kahlan. In the firelight
coming through the doorway he could see she was sitting in a chair pulled close to his bed. Zedd's
big old coon cat was curled up sleeping in her lap.

"Where's Zedd?" he asked, sleepy-eyed.

"He has gone to find the root you need." Her voice was soft and calming. "It has been dark for
hours now, but he said not to be concerned if it took him time to find the root. He said that you
would go in and out of sleep but would be safe until he returned. He said the drink he gave you
before would keep you safe until he is back."

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.

"How do you feel?" Her voice was so soft, so gentle, that he couldn't imagine why Zedd had been
afraid of her.

"I would rather fight another quad than another snake vine."

She smiled her special smile, her private smile of sharing

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.

"Kahlan, Zedd is my friend of many years. He is like a second father to me. Promise me you won't
do anything to hurt him. I could not bear it."

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."

He gripped her wrist tighter. "Promise me."

"Richard, everything will be fine. He will help us."

He remembered her fingers on his throat and the look in her eyes when she thought he was trying to
poison her with an apple. "Promise me."

"I have already made promises, to others, some of whom have given their lives. I have
responsibilities to the lives of others. Many others."

"Promise me."

She put her other hand on the side of his face. "I am sorry, Richard, I cannot."

He released her wrist, turned, and closed his eyes as she took her hand from his face. He thought
about the book, all that it meant, and realized he was making a selfish request. Would he trick her
to save Zedd, only to have him die with them? Would he doom all the others to death or slavery
just to see his friend live a couple more months? Could he condemn her to death, too, for nothing?
He felt ashamed at his own stupidity. He had no right to .ask her to make such a promise. It would
be wrong for her to do so. He was glad she had not lied to him. But he knew that just because Zedd
had asked about the trouble they were in did not mean he would help with anything to do from
across the boundary.

"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."

She squeezed her hand on his shoulder. "That is a promise 1 can make. I know you care about your
friend; I would despair if you didn't. That does not make you foolish. Rest now."

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.

-+---
The cat came awake, his ears perking up. Richard slept on. Sounds that only the cat could hear
made him jump off Kahlan's lap, trot to the door, and sit on his haunches, waiting. Kahlan waited,
too, and since the cat didn't raise his fur, she stayed by Richard. A thin voice came from outside.

"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.

When he came into the room, Kahlan answered from the chair. "He came awake several times, but
he is sleeping now. Did you find the root you need?"

"I wouldn't be here otherwise. Did he have anything to say when he was awake?"

Kahlan smiled up at the old man. "Just that he was worried about you."

He turned and went back into the front room, grumbling. "Not without good reason."

Sitting at the table, he peeled the roots, cut them into thin wafers, put the wafers into a pot with
some water, and then hung the pot on the crane over the fire. He threw the peels and then two sticks
of wood into the fire before going to the cupboard and pulling down a number of different-sized
jars. Without hesitation he selected first one jar, then another, pouring different-colored powders
into a black stone mortar. With a white pestle, he ground the reds, blues, yellows, browns, and
greens together until it was all the color of dry mud. After licking the end of his finger, he dipped it
in the mortar to collect a sample. He put the finger to his tongue for a taste and lifted an eyebrow
while he smacked his lips and pondered. At last he smiled and nodded in satisfaction. He poured
the powder into the pot, blending it in with a spoon from a hook at the side of the fireplace. He
stirred slowly while watching the concoction bubble. For nearly two hours he stirred and watched.
When at last he determined that the work was done, he plunked the pot on the table to cool.

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.

He spun his .finger around in the air. "Now twist the cloth around and around to squeeze the liquid
out. When it's all out, throw the cloth and its contents in the fire." She looked at him, puzzled. Zedd
lifted an eyebrow. "The part left in there is poison. Richard should be awake any time now; then we
give him the liquid in the bowl. You keep squeezing. I will check on him."

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.

"Dear one," Zedd called into the other room, "we are in luck. He has just come awake. Bring the
bowl."

Richard blinked. "Zedd? Are you all right? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine."

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.

"That will make you sleep, and break the fever. The next time you awake, you will be well, you
have my word, so worry no more as you rest."

"Thank you, Zedd . . . ." Richard was asleep before he could say more.

Zedd left and then returned with a tin plate, insisting that Kahlan take the chair. "The thorn will not
be able to stand the root," he explained. "It will have to leave his body." He put the plate under
Richard's hand and sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. They both listened to Richard's deep
breathing and the crackling of the fire from the other room; otherwise the house was still. It was
Zedd who broke the silence first.

"It is dangerous for a Confessor to travel alone, dear one. Where is your wizard?"

She looked up at him with tired eyes. "My wizard sold his services to a queen."

Zedd gave a disapproving scowl. "He abandoned his responsibilities to the Confessors? What is his
name?"

"Giller."

"Giller." He repeated the name with a sour expression, then leaned toward her a bit. "So why did
another not come with you?"

She gave him a hard look. "Because they are all dead, at their own hands. Before they died, they all
gathered and cast a web to see me safely through the boundary, with the guidance of a night wisp."
Zedd stood at this news. Sadness and concern etched his face as he rubbed his chin. "You knew the
wizards?" she asked.

"Yes, yes. I lived in the Midlands a long time."

"And the great one? You know him also?"

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."

Kahlan leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. Her voice was soft but intense.

"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.

"Rahl says it is all the great wizard's fault, for not coming forward to be put on trial as an enemy of
the people. He says the wizard has brought this on them, that he is to blame. He doesn't explain
how this could be, but many believe it anyway. Many believe everything Rahl says, even though
what they see with their own eyes should be enough to tell them otherwise.

"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.

"But this is not about just the Midlands. The boundary between D'Hara and the Midlands is down,
the boundary between the Midlands and Westland is failing, and soon it too will be down. The
people of Westland will be taken by the very thing they fear most: magic. Terrible, frightening
magic like none they have ever imagined."

Zedd showed no emotion, offered no objection or opinion, only listened. He continued to allow her
to hold his hands.

"All I have said, the great wizard could have an argument for, but the fact that Darken Rahl has put
the three boxes of Orden into play is something altogether different. If he succeeds, then on the first
day of winter it will be too late for anyone. That includes the wizard. Rahl already searches for him;
it is personal vengeance he seeks. Many have died because they could not offer his name. When
Rahl opens the correct box, though, he will have unchallenged power over all things living, and
then the wizard will be his. He can hide in Westland all he wants; but come the first day of winter,
his hiding is over. Darken Rahl will have him."

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."

Zedd raised an eyebrow. "And what is one dried-up old wizard to do against the power of this
Darken Rahl?" He was now holding her hands in his.

"He must appoint a Seeker."

"What!" Zedd jumped to his feet. "Dear one, you don't know what you are talking about."

Confused, Kahlan leaned back a little. "What do you mean?"

"Seekers appoint themselves. The wizard just sort of recognizes what has happened, and makes it
official."

"I don't understand. I thought the wizard picked the person, the right person."

Zedd sat back down, rubbing his chin. "Well, that's true in a sense, but backwards. A true Seeker,
one who can make a difference, must show himself to be a Seeker. The wizard doesn't point to
someone and say, `Here is the Sword of Truth, you will be the Seeker.' He doesn't really have a
choice in the matter. It isn't something you can train someone for. One should simply be a Seeker
and show himself to be so by his actions. A wizard must watch a person for years to be sure. A
Seeker doesn't have to be the smartest person, but he has to be the right person; he has to have the
right qualities within himself. A true Seeker is a rare 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."

He edged closer to her. "Kahlan, you were born after the council took this power upon itself, so you
may have been a Seeker when you were young, but in those days they were pretend Seekers; you
have never seen the real thing." His eyes got round in the telling, his voice low and full of passion.
"I have seen a true Seeker make a king quake in his boots with the asking of a single question:
When a real Seeker draws the Sword of Truth . . ." He held his hands up and rolled his eyes in
delight. "Righteous anger can be an extraordinary thing to behold." Kahlan smiled at his
excitement. "It can make the good tremble with joy, and the wicked shiver in fear." The smile left
his face. "But people rarely believe the truth when they see it and less so when they don't want to,
and that makes the position of Seeker a dangerous one. He is an obstacle to those who would
subvert power. He draws lightning from many sides. Most often he stands alone, and frequently not
long."

"I know the feeling well," she said, with only the hint of a smile.

Zedd leaned closer. "Against Darken Rahl, I doubt even a true Seeker would last long. And then
what?"

She took up his hands again. "Zedd, we must try. It is our only chance. If we don't take it, we have
none."

He sat up, pulling away from her. "Any person the wizard picks would not know the Midlands. He
would have no chance there. It would be a sentence of quick death."

"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."

"What you propose not only would put someone's life at terrible risk, as Seeker, dear one, but yours
also."

She raised an eyebrow. "I am hunted now. If you have a better way, put words to it."

Before Zedd could answer, Richard moaned. The old man looked over at him and then rose. "It is
time."

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.

Zedd grabbed her wrist. "Don't do that, dear one. Now that it has been expelled from its host, it will
be anxious to have a new one. Watch."

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."

While she did as Zedd requested, he cleaned the wound and applied a salve. When Kahlan returned,
he held Richard's hand while she wrapped it. Zedd watched her hands as she worked.

"Why have you not told him what you are, that you are a Confessor?" There was a hard edge to his
voice.

Hers came back in kind. "Because of the way you reacted when you recognized me as a
Confessor." She paused, and the harshness left her voice. "Somehow we have become friends. I am
inexperienced in that, but I am very experienced at being a Confessor. I have seen reactions like
yours all my life. When I leave with the Seeker, I will tell him. Until then, I would very much like
to have his friendship. Is that too much to ask, to be allowed the simple human pleasure of a friend?
The friendship will end soon enough, when I tell him."

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."

Kahlan looked into his eyes a long moment. "Thank you, Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander."

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.

"Know this, though, Mother Confessor." His voice was only one step above a whisper, and deadly.
"This. boy has been my friend a good long time. If you touch him with your power, or if you
choose him, you will answer to me. And you would not like that. Do you understand?"

She swallowed hard and managed to give a weak nod. "Yes."

"Good." The danger left his face, leaving calm again in its place. He removed his finger from under
her chin, and began to turn to Richard.

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."

They faced off a long while, each measuring the other. Zedd's impish smile returned, as disarming
as ever.

"If offered a choice, dear one, that is the way I would prefer it."

She relaxed, satisfied at having made her point, and gave him a quick hug that was returned
earnestly.

"There is one thing you have left unspoken. You have not asked for my help in finding the wizard."

"No, and for now I won't. Richard fears what I would do if you were to say no. I promised I would
not ask until he has a chance to ask you first. I gave him my word."

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."

"Me? A woman can be Seeker?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Of course. Some of the best Seekers have been women."

"I already have an impossible job." She frowned. "I don't need two."

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."

"No!" She shook her head and plopped down in the chair. "I don't want to leave him for now."

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.

"Cat! Come here, I want you." The cat came running in and rubbed himself against Zedd's legs,
swishing his tail up. Zedd bent down and scratched him behind the ears. "Go in and sleep on the
young woman's lap. Keep her warm." The cat padded off to the bedroom as the old man stepped
out into the cold night air.

-+---
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.

"Nothing is ever easy," he muttered as he went.

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.

A fly bit his neck. He swatted it angrily, picked the offender off his neck, and glared at it. "Blood
fly. Bags. I thought as much," he complained.

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.

Zedd reached up and with a crooked finger beckoned it to lean closer. The gar, panting in rage, bent
toward him. Zedd jammed his finger hard under its chin.

"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.

Scrambling to get away, the beast flapped its wings frantically, beating down the grass as it
stumbled along. At last the gar was airborne. Zedd watched it as it circled, searching for the quad.
As the hunt moved steadily east, the circles seemed to get smaller until the old man could no longer
see the beast. Only then did he continue on to the top of the hill.

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 light built in intensity with the speed of Zedd's hand. As colors and sparkles of light spun,
shadows and forms came into the center of the light and vanished as the fog of brightness
increased. Light threatened to ignite the air about him. A dull roar, like the sound of wind rushing
through a fissure, came forth. The smells of autumn changed to winter clarity, then spring's new
plowed ground, summer's flowers, and back to autumn again. Clean, pure illumination chased the
colors and sparkles away.

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.

His mother's voice came hollow and distant. "What troubles you, son? Why have you called us
after so many years?" Her arms stretched out to him.

Zedd's arms reached out, but could not touch her. "I am troubled by what the Mother Confessor
tells me."

"She speaks the truth."

He closed his eyes and nodded as his arms lowered with hers. "It's true, then, all my students, save
Giller, are dead."

"You are the only one left to protect the Mother Confessor." She drifted closer. "You must appoint
the Seeker."

"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's father floated closer. "My son, why were you angry with your students?"

Zedd scowled. "Because they put themselves before their duty to help their people."

"I see. And how is this different from what you do now?" The echo of his voice hung in the air.

Zedd's fists tightened. "My help was offered, but turned away."

"And when has it not been so, that there would be those who were blind, or foolish, or greedy?
Would you let them have their way over you so easily? Would you let them so simply prevent you
from helping those who would be helped? Your abandonment of the people may have a reason that
seems just to you, unlike the actions of your students, but the results are the same. In the end they
saw their mistake, and did the right things, the things you taught them. Learn from your students,
son."

"Zeddicus," his mother said, "would you let Richard die too, and all the other innocents? Appoint
the Seeker."

"He's too young."

She shook her head with a gentle smile. "He will not get the chance to grow older."

"He has not passed my final test."

"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."

"To what avail?" Zedd closed his eyes, his chin sinking to his chest. "Darken Rahl has the three
boxes of Orden."

"No," his father said, "he has only two. He still seeks the third."

Zedd's eyes snapped open, his head jerked up. "What! He doesn't have them all?"

"No," his mother said, "but he soon will."

"And the book? Surely he must have the Book of Counted Shadows?"

"No. He searches for it."

Zedd put a finger to his chin, thinking. "Then there's a chance," he whispered. "What sort of fool
would put the boxes of Orden in play before he had all three, and the book?"

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."

"But then how am I to get us to the Midlands? I can't help if I can't get to the Midlands." Zedd's
voice was tense with frustration.

"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