Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Chapter 47

Richard, elbows resting on the mahogany tabletop, ran his fingers back into his hair. He was so tired that the book in front of him was starting to swim in his vision. He had read so many books recently that he had long ago lost track of how many days it had been since returning to the People’s Palace.

The Ja’La match, the riots, Kahlan escaping with Samuel, getting back into the palace, and the ensuing battle already seemed a lifetime ago. With the help of Verna and several other Sisters, Nathan had been able to heal Adie. After she had rested, though, she insisted on once again setting out on her solitary journey. Because the place diminished her power, she was virtually blind inside the palace.

Richard could understand why she would want to leave, but he wondered if, through her powers as a sorceress, she saw no future in staying in the palace. Richard wasn’t sure that there would be a future anywhere to worry about.

After what General Meiffert had told him about a witch woman on a huge red dragon hunting down D’Haran troops in the Old World, things were suddenly looking very grim. With men who had been sent to destroy the ability of the Order to support their army in the New World now themselves under such withering attack, Richard didn’t know how much time they had left before the Order was finally going to be able to crush all resistance to their new vision for mankind.

The general had been confident in the plan to hit the strength of the Order at its source, and for a time it had been working to great effect. They had hunted down and destroyed supply trains before they could even get out of the Old World. They had turned recruiting areas and training facilities into desolate forests of stakes with soldiers’ heads. Along the way they’d demolished supply depots, ruined crops, and hunted down and killed the men who preached the Order’s vile beliefs.

The people of the Old World had begun to understand the bitter reality of the war they had been eager to set loose on others. Their smug gloating over the way their troops were bringing the heathens to the north to heel had turned to sleepless fear that those heathens might be about to visit vengeance on them. Crowds for those who preached the teachings of the Order were thinner. There were even places where revolts against the rule of the Order had broken out.

Jagang, however, did several things to counter that effort. First, he had authorities clamp down swiftly on any hint of insurrection. Towns that were suspected of sympathizing with the cause of freedom were torched, all the people were tortured to extract confessions, and executions by the thousands were ordered. Questioning the rule of the Order brought terrible consequences. Actual guilt was only a minor consideration. Punishment and the exertion of authority were the objectives, so suspicion was enough to bring brutal treatment. People had quickly shrunk into fearful obedience, only too eager to provide anything demanded by the new dictates for supplies.

That widespread fear of being suspected of treason to the cause of the Order had dramatically increased the amount of supplies available to be sent north, so the additional supply trains had no difficulty collecting what was needed. Since the Old World was so vast, that massive effort insured that, despite the efforts of the D’Haran troops, enough supplies were still getting through. Richard remembered the sudden new stocks of food, like the ham, so he knew that the tactic was working, at least for the time being.

All of those issues were obstacles that the D’Haran troops sent south understood and were addressing. Given time, they would have adjusted their methods to address the new problems. That’s what warriors did; they adjusted their plans to fit the circumstances they encountered. The enemy made adjustments, you had to counter.

The last thing Jagang had done, however, was a different matter. He sent a dragon and a witch woman—from the descriptions it sounded like Six—to hunt the D’Harans as they went after the supply trains and other facilities. Richard knew from personal experience that from high in the air it was much easier to locate and spot troops. It was an effective hunting technique. With a witch woman’s talent, it was all the more deadly.

The tactic had not only reduced the effectiveness of the attacks in the Old World, it had been killing a great many D’Haran troops for nothing gained, making the work for the ones still fighting all that much more difficult. With the increased supplies and the attacks from above, Jagang appeared, despite the greater cost in lives and supplies, to be getting what he needed to continue the siege of the People’s Palace. That was all that mattered to him.

It now appeared that it would be those in the palace who would not be able to hold out. Once the ramp was completed, and if they discovered other catacombs to also get through, then the Order’s legions could attack the palace from both the top and bottom. Even the ramp alone, though, would prove enough in the end. Such an attack would be costly to the Imperial Order, but Jagang didn’t care about the cost in lives to his army, he only cared about his objective. Sooner or later he would take his objective.

When that happened, and Richard knew that it was inevitable, the cause of freedom would be ended. They would be finished.

Richard’s only hope now was to find a way to use the boxes of Orden. Of course, he didn’t have any of the boxes, but even if he did he didn’t yet know how to use them. He needed to learn how to do that, first. Knowledge was now his best weapon. He was determined to arm himself well.

The room he and Nicci were in was a private library that, according to Berdine, was filled with forbidden volumes—books meant for the Lord Rahl alone. Powerful shields protected the mahogany double doors of the arched entrance. Darken Rahl had sometimes asked Berdine to help him translate High D’Haran, but she said that this room was one she rarely visited. She said that he usually came here alone. Richard and Nicci had decided that this was a good place for them to start.

Berdine was searching other libraries, along with Verna and nearly all of her Sisters. Anything deemed to be of possible help was brought to Nicci. She personally checked everything brought in to see if it was something Richard needed to concern himself with. Some of the more experienced Sisters were proving quite valuable at ferreting out important sources of relevant information.

Nicci also kept people away from Richard so he could concentrate on reading and on the wide array of things she was teaching him. In some ways he felt like a recluse. But it also left the mood in the quiet retreat focused, which was just what Richard needed.

Low bookshelves in the private sanctuary were placed near the richly paneled walls, leaving the center open for couches and chairs. It made the room look more like a quiet study than a library. Small statues decorated the tops of some of the shelves, helping them to appear to be display stands rather than bookshelves.

Richard hadn’t yet ventured up the narrow, iron spiral stairs to the small balcony on the opposite wall, but Nicci had. As he read, she’d brought books that she thought were important down to add to the stacks awaiting his attention. Although the room didn’t have the look of one of the typical libraries filled with row upon row of books, the discreet shelves in the room still had to contain thousands of volumes. The ones they were interested in, though, were somewhat rare, even for this place.

Still, the heavy mahogany table he sat before was piled high with books Nicci had laid out. From within the library there was no way to tell if it was day or night. The heavy, dark blue velvet draperies were closed. Opening them wouldn’t have helped since there was only wood paneling behind. The curtains were only meant to give the illusion of windows and to quiet the room. There were ample lamps, though, along with a fireplace. They gave the place a warm glow, making it look cozy and inviting. Richard felt neither.

They worked without pause as much as possible. Food was brought in so they wouldn’t have to stop. When they could keep their eyes open no longer, they slept for a time on the couches.

Nicci, never far from him, paced through the shadows and shafts of light from the reflector lamps hung on the polished, dark brown, white-veined marble pillars standing at uniform intervals throughout the library. She scanned yet another book, seeing if it was something he needed to read, only to walk back to the shelves and replace it.

Richard’s burning urge was to act. He desperately wanted to go after Kahlan. He knew, though, that it wasn’t that simple. To really go after her he had to learn how to use the power of Orden before it was too late to ever get her back. He knew that it would be impossible for him to do such a thing on his own. Nicci had, without hesitation, agreed to be his teacher.

The first thing she had done had been to explain the complexities of sterile fields. She wanted him to fully understand the implications. Richard was no expert in magic, and he certainly didn’t know how to use his ability at will, but Nicci had made the principles understandable to him. At first, he found it hard to grasp. He couldn’t understand what harm such foreknowledge could really do.

Nicci insisted that the wizards who had created Orden to counter a Chainfire event were convinced that foreknowledge of a certain emotional nature would taint the magic they were creating and thus taint Orden itself. Richard had been dubious.

She told him how Zedd was the one who had explained to her that foreknowledge tainting magic was no theory, but that it was true. He had told her that Richard himself had proven it by falling in love with Kahlan without her Confessor’s power harming him. Any foreknowledge that it could be done would have destroyed Richard’s ability to overcome the problem because her magic, when she first unleashed it on him even without intending to, would have taken him. While he never revealed the solution to Nicci, Zedd did tell her that Richard had to be totally unaware of a solution even existing, or that solution would not have worked, so she was sworn to secrecy on even that small part of it.

Zedd had told Nicci that Richard himself had proven the central question of Ordenic theory—that foreknowledge can affect the functioning of magic. He had proven it with Kahlan.

Richard knew all too well what Nicci was talking about, even if she was in the dark about parts of it. Because of experiencing such a thing firsthand, he recognized the true gravity of the situation. He knew that, just as his foreknowledge of a solution to loving a Confessor would have made that solution fail, Kahlan having foreknowledge of his profound emotional connection to her would make Orden fail.

It was no theory, as the wizards who created Orden had thought. It was true: foreknowledge tainted a sterile field. Richard, of all people, grasped that concept on a visceral level.

To know in his heart, and to also fully comprehend, that he couldn’t allow Kahlan to learn about the two of them being in love tied his insides in knots. At the moment, though, that eventuality was only a distant concern. It was one problem that he sincerely hoped to someday have. He had a lot more to learn before he ever reached that point.

Through reading a number of historical accounts in the library and from books some of the Sisters had found that dated back to the time before the great war, Nicci had been able to form a theory about his gift and how it functioned. It wasn’t, in her opinion, so much a matter of Richard not growing up learning about magic that made it difficult for him to control his ability, but that the gift of a war wizard actually functioned differently from a sorceress’s or a typical wizard’s gift. Richard’s power wasn’t simply tapped, she’d explained, but worked through intent via his feelings in much the same way that the Sword of Truth functioned.

In this sense, the Sword of Truth turned out to be a kind of primer on how his own ability worked. The sword functioned according to what the person wielding it believed. It wouldn’t harm a person who they believed to be a friend, but it would destroy anyone they believed was an enemy. The reality didn’t matter; it was what the person believed to be true that drove the magic of the sword. That was the critical concept at the center of both the sword and his gift as war wizard.

Feelings—emotions—were the internal sums of what one had collected, observed, experienced, and grasped about life all delivered in an instant: an interior life viewpoint thrust forward as emotion. That didn’t mean, however, that those concluding judgments, in and of themselves, were correct. Just as with the sword, his gift worked in conjunction with what he valued. It was incumbent upon the intellect to sift out legitimate values and provide well-reasoned justification to make those emotions not only true but moral.

That was why it was vital that the right person be selected to wield the Sword of Truth. That person had to be someone with the ability to make those judgments for sound reasons.

Also much like the sword, his gift worked through anger. Anger was actually a projection of his values in that it was a reaction to threats to those values. Thus, his gift was ignited by his anger at whatever threatened what he valued—for example those he loved, or even the ultimate human value of life itself.

Nicci had told him that for all she knew he might never learn to control his ability directly, the way other gifted people did. She said that she suspected that the reason for this was that a war wizard’s gift was fundamentally different, serving a different purpose than the gift in others, such as the gift to be a healer, or a prophet. The implication in everything she’d learned was that anger was a key element in the ability of a war wizard. After all, war was not properly entered into out of joy or a lust for conquest, but in response to a threat to values.

Of more immediate concern to Richard, however, was learning to use the power of Orden to reverse the Chainfire spell.

Nicci had been shocked to see the designs and symbols Richard had painted on himself and the other men. She recognized that he had combined familiar elements into completely new forms. But she also wanted to know how he had managed to integrate elements pertaining to Orden.

Richard had explained that he had come to learn that some of the parts of the spells Darken Rahl had drawn to open the boxes of Orden were also parts of the dance with death, and he knew the symbols relating to the dance with death quite well.

In a way, that association made sense. Zedd had once told him that the power of Orden was the power of life itself. The dance with death, used with the Sword of Truth, was really about preserving life, and Orden was itself drawn from the power of life and centered around preserving it from the rampages of the Chainfire spell.

In a way, the Sword of Truth, the ability of a war wizard, and the power of Orden were all inextricably linked.

Those links brought to Richard’s mind First Wizard Baraccus, the man who had thousands of years before written a book, Secrets of a War Wizard’s Power, for Richard. That book was meant to help him in this quest. That book was still hidden in Tamarang, where Richard had stashed it when Six had held him prisoner for a brief time. Richard knew that Zedd had been headed there to see if he could get the spell drawn in the sacred caves removed from Richard. Since Richard’s gift had returned, his grandfather had obviously been successful.

Now that Richard was reconnected with his gift, he remembered even word of The Book of Counted Shadows. Nicci was convinced, and had convinced Richard, that the book he had memorized could only have been a false copy that could not be used to open the correct box of Orden.

She believed, however, that even being a false copy it very likely still contained all, or most all, of the elements necessary to open and use the correct box of Orden. To make the version Richard had memorized a false copy would have required only a single sequence of necessary elements being out of order, but that didn’t mean that the elements themselves weren’t valid and therefore important and necessary.

To that end, Richard had recited the entire book for her. They had made note of every element from the book. If he learned how to create or draw each of those elements, then when they got their hands on the true copy of The Book of Counted Shadows, he would simply have to use those components that were actually necessary by rearranging them in the proper order as revealed by the true copy of the book.

For this reason, Nicci now knew what she needed to teach him. And Richard was farther along this path than she would have thought because he already understood many of the key elements involved. He already knew a vast array of the basic parts used in the spell-forms. He had, in fact, drawn them on his whole team and himself. The dance with death had already taught him the basics of those designs, making them by now seem almost intuitive to him.

Richard had discovered that drawing the spell-forms was in fact a natural extension of not just the symbols employed in the depiction of the dance with death, but how he fought with a blade, and how he carved statues. At their base, all of those seemingly different things had basic parts in common. All of them shared movement and flow.

For Richard it was astonishing to discover how it all fit together into a larger picture. As he drew the spell-forms Nicci was teaching him it didn’t feel awkward or difficult. It felt natural. He already knew the forms. He recognized in those forms not only the dance with death, but movements with a blade, both from fighting and from carving statues.

Nicci, too, was unique as a teacher because she understood not only how much Richard knew about his varied abilities, but how he used his ability. She grasped, unlike anyone else, how he saw the use of magic. She recognized how different it was from the conventional wisdom and wasn’t in the least bit stymied by the way he viewed such things. If anything, it energized her.

She also comprehended his concept of the the creative aspects of magic itself and so she didn’t try to correct what he did, but instead guided him to accomplishing what was needed. She didn’t just pile on things to memorize; she instead built on what he already knew and the way he saw things. Because she intuitively sensed what he already grasped on his own, in his own way, she didn’t waste time dwelling on lessons covering what he already understood, and instead helped him add things he needed, at the place he needed them, when he needed them.

Nicci strolled to the table. “How are you doing?”

Richard yawned. “I don’t know anymore. It’s all running together in my head.”

Nicci nodded absently as she read something in the book she was holding.

“What you think is running together may mean that your interior mind is simply beginning to make associations and connections—organizing what you are adding to your knowledge.”

Richard sighed. “Could be.”

Nicci closed the book and tossed it on the table to the side. “There are some useful things in here. You should take a look.”

“I don’t think I can see straight to read any more right now.”

“Good,” she said. She gestured to the pen resting in a holder to the side. “Draw, then. You need to be able to draw those elements from the book you just finished. If the real Book of Counted Shadows has similar elements, you will be ahead of the game.”

Richard wanted to argue with her, to tell her that he was too tired, but then he thought about Kahlan. Weariness became irrelevant in that light. Besides, he had agreed that Nicci was going to teach him and he would not only do as she instructed but put his every effort into it.

She was a sorceress with invaluable knowledge, experience, and ability that Zedd had said amazed him. Even Verna had taken him aside and advised him to listen carefully to Nicci, that she was in many areas smarter than any of them. Richard knew that this was his only true opportunity to learn what he needed. He was not about to waste that opportunity.

He pulled a piece of paper close and then dunked the pen in the ink. He leaned close and started drawing spell-forms from a book laid open nearby.

One big problem they had not yet solved was the issue of sorcerer’s sand. According to The Book of Counted Shadows that he’d memorized, the spell-forms needed to open the correct box of Orden had to be drawn in sorcerer’s sand. Nicci had told him that even though the book he’d memorized was a false copy, the issue of needing to draw the spell-forms in sorcerer’s sand when the time came was true. Whatever spells turned out to be the ones necessary simply wouldn’t work without it.

Richard had told her how when Darken Rahl had opened the box of Orden he had been sucked down into the underworld—along with all the sorcerer’s sand he’d used to draw the spells. Up in the garden of life there was no more of that precious commodity. There was only dirt left where the sorcerer’s sand had been.

Nicci looked up from another book she was thumbing through. “This has some information about the Temple of the Winds.”

Richard looked up. “Really?”

She nodded. “You know, the thing that baffles me about that is how you said you crossed the world of the dead to get to it.”

It had appeared during the lightning and Richard had crossed over on a road while it was visible.

“I’m sorry, Nicci, but I told you everything I know on the subject.”

“According to this, and to what you told me you learned from studying accounts in old books, the Temple of the Winds was sent to the underworld. Because it was banished for protection, it resides somewhere distant across that great void. The whole purpose is to make it far away and impossible to get to.”

“But it was right there when the conditions were right. I stepped right across into the temple.”

She nodded absently as she went back to reading and pacing. She finally stopped again, looking impatient.

“It still doesn’t make sense. It’s impossible to get from here to there across the world of the dead. Crossing the void of the underworld is something like crossing the ocean. It would be like walking to the shoreline and stepping onto an island that’s on the other side of the world without having to travel across the intervening ocean.”

“Maybe the Temple of the Winds isn’t really that far away in the underworld. Maybe it’s like the island isn’t really across the ocean, but just right there, close to the shoreline.”

Nicci shook her head. “Not according to this, and not according to the things you told me. Every reference says that to banish the temple to safety they sent it across the underworld—rather like sending it across the universe itself.”

“Lord Rahl,” Cara called from the doorway.

Richard yawned again. “What is it, Cara?”

“I have some people here with me who need to see you.”

As much as he would like a break, Richard didn’t want to stop. He needed to learn all of it if he was ever to get Kahlan back.

“It seems to be important,” Cara added when she saw him hesitating.

“All right, bring them in.”

Cara led a group of six people in pristine white robes into the room. In the somewhat dark library, the white-robed figures almost glowed like good spirits. They all came to a halt on the other side of the massive mahogany table. They looked to Richard more like people fearing they might be executed than like people who wanted to see him.

Richard looked from the six nervous people, five men and one woman, to Cara.

“These are some of the crypt staff,” she said.

“Crypt staff?”

“Yes, Lord Rahl. They take care of the tombs and such.”

Richard looked at their faces again. They all looked away from his gaze to stare at the floor as they remained silent.

“Yes, I remember seeing some of you when I first came back—when we had the battle down there with the Imperial Order soldiers.”

He couldn’t imagine the horrific mess that would have had to be cleaned up. He had ordered that the bodies of the Order soldiers be thrown over the side of the plateau. They had more important things to worry about than caring for the remains of murderers.

The people nodded.

“What is it you wish to tell me?”

Cara waved a hand to dissuade him from that notion. “Lord Rahl, they are all mute.”

Richard gestured with the pen in his hand as he leaned back in his chair. “All of you?”

The six people nodded together.

“Darken Rahl cut out the tongues of all the crypt staff so that they couldn’t speak ill of his dead father.”

Richard sighed at hearing such a terrible thing. “I’m sorry you were abused like that. If it makes you feel any better I share your feelings about the man.”

Cara smiled as she looked at her six charges. “I told them of your part in his death.”

The six smiled a little and nodded.

“So, what’s this about? Can you help me understand what you want me to know?” he asked the six.

One of them reached out and carefully placed a folded, pristinely white cloth on the table. The man slid it toward Richard.

As Richard reached for it, a drop of ink dripped from his pen onto the white cloth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he set the pen aside.

He pulled the cloth closer. He looked up at the six. “So, what is it?”

When they made no attempt to explain, he glanced at Cara. She only shrugged. “They were insistent that you see it.”

One of them gestured with his hands held out flat, almost as if they were the pages of a book as it opened, then repeated the gesture.

“You want me to open it?”

All six nodded.

It didn’t really feel like it could contain anything at all, but Richard carefully started opening the folds of cloth back onto the table. Nicci, standing beside the six, leaned over the table watching.

When Richard laid back the final fold, there, in the center of the cloth, lay a single grain of white sand.

He looked up sharply. “Where did you get this?”

All six pointed down.

“Dear spirits,” Nicci whispered.

“What?” Cara asked, leaning over to look at the single grain of white sand sitting in the center of the cloth. “What is it?”

Richard glanced up at the Mord-Sith. “Sorcerer’s sand.”

The people were crypt staff, so that had to mean that they had found it down in the crypt somewhere. The sorcerer’s sand shone with prismatic light, but he was still somewhat astonished that they would have found a single grain of it.

He also wondered where they had come across it—and if there was more.

“Can you show me where you found this?”

All six nodded vigorously.

Richard carefully folded up the cloth back around the grain of sorcerer’s sand. He noticed as he did so that the place where the drop of ink had fallen had, because the cloth had been folded at the time, made two identical spots of ink on opposite ends of the cloth. When the cloth had been folded they had been together, touching, but when the cloth was opened the two spots were on opposite sides.

He stared at it a moment, thinking.

“Let’s go,” he finally said as he stuffed the cloth into his pocket. “Take me there.”