Stone of Tears

Chapter 12

A splotchy gray head bobbed toward them through the long grass. Whatever it was, it wasn’t very tall. Kahlan wondered if it could be another screeling. At that thought, she drew her bowstring back until the arrow’s point was at her grip on the bow and the string against her cheek. She frantically worried if she could make the shot if it came at them. Although, from what she had seen of a screeling before, an arrow, she realized, would do no good. She wondered if she could call the lightning again.

Richard lifted his arm in front of her. “Wait.” A squat, hairless figure with long arms and big feet, dressed only in pants held up with straps, broke through the grass in front of them. Blinking yellow eyes gazed up at her pointing the arrow between them. A sharp-toothed grin split its face. “Pretty lady.” It was the witch woman Shota’s companion.

“Samuel!” Richard growled. “What are you doing here?”

The beastly creature hissed and reached for the sword. “Mine! Gimme!”

Richard brandished the blade menacingly and Samuel, pouting, snatched his arm back. Richard laid the sword’s tip on the gray folds of skin at Samuel’s neck. “I asked, what are you doing here?”

Hateful eyes peered up. “Mistress wants you.”

“Well, you can just go home by yourself. We’re not going to Agaden Reach.”

He regarded Richard with one yellow eye. “Mistress not in the Reach.” He turned, stretching up on his toes to look over the grass, and pointed a long, thick finger back toward the Mud People’s village. “Mistress waits for you there. Where those people live together.” He glared back at Richard. “She said if you don’t come, she will kill them, and Samuel can cook them in a stew.” His grin returned.

Richard gritted his teeth. “If she has hurt anyone . . .”

“She said she will not hurt them . . . if you come to her.”

“What does she want?”

“You.”

“What does she want with me?”

“Mistress not tell Samuel. Tells me only to get you.”

Kahlan had relaxed half the tension on the bowstring. “Richard, Shota said she would kill you if she ever saw you again.”

He kept his eyes on Samuel as he spoke. “No. She said she would kill me if I ever went back to Agaden Reach. She’s not in the Reach.”

“But . . .”

“If I don’t go, she said she will kill people. Do you doubt her?”

“No . . . but she still might kill you.”

He grunted and then smiled. “Kill me? I don’t think so. She likes me. I saved her life. Indirectly at least.”

Kahlan bristled. Shota had once tried to bewitch him, and she didn’t like that one bit. Other than the Sisters of the Light, the witch woman was just about the last person Kahlan ever wanted to see again. “I don’t like it.”

Richard stole a quick glance at her. “If you have a better idea, put words to it.”

Kahlan let out an angry breath. “I guess we have no choice. But you just keep her hands off you.”

Richard gave her a startled look, then turned to the witch woman’s companion. “You take the lead, Samuel, and don’t forget who’s carrying the sword. And remember what I told you the last time. I might still have some Samuel stew if you try doing anything to harm us.”

Samuel eyed the blade a moment. Without another word he turned and started off, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they followed. Richard kept the sword out, slung his bow over his shoulder, and put himself between Kahlan and Samuel. The anger of the sword’s magic blazed in his eyes. Samuel loped through the grass ahead of them, turning back occasionally to hiss at them.

Kahlan stayed close on Richard’s heels. “She’d better not put snakes on me again. No snakes!” she said emphatically. “And I mean it.”

“As if we have a choice,” Richard muttered.

It was near dark by the time they reached the village. They came in from the east, and noticed immediately that the entire population of the village was clustered at the south end of the common field, shielded by armed hunters standing shoulder to shoulder. Kahlan knew the Mud People were deathly afraid of the witch woman. They wouldn’t even speak her name aloud.

For that matter, everyone she ever knew was deathly afraid of the witch woman—including her. Shota would have killed her the last time if Richard hadn’t used a wish Shota had granted him, to save her. She didn’t think Shota would be granting Richard any more wishes.

Samuel led them through the narrow passageways, toward the spirit house, walking as if he had lived here all his life. He gurgled his odd laugh as he bounded along, giving them an occasional glance. He grinned with bloodless lips, as if he knew something they didn’t. When his grin showed too many teeth and Richard prodded him with the sword, Samuel growled and hissed, his yellow eyes glowing in the fading light.

Samuel laid his long-fingered hand on the latch to the spirit house. “Pretty lady waits here. With me. Mistress wants only Seeker.”

“Richard, I’m going in too,” Kahlan said firmly.

He gave her a sidelong glance and then looked at Samuel. “Open the door.”

One powerful arm drew the door back, as shining yellow eyes glowered at him. Richard held his sword out, indicating that he wanted her to go in. The door squeaked closed behind them, with a sour-faced Samuel on the other side.

In the center of the room sat a tall, elegant throne. Torchlight danced and flared on the carved, gold-leaf vines, snakes, cats, and other beasts that covered every inch of the stately structure. A canopy draped with heavy red brocade and trimmed with gold tassels jutted out overhead. The throne itself sat atop three square, white marble platforms that served as steps. The whole thing was massive and imposing. Tufted red velvet covered the seat, the back, and the tops of the arms. Kahlan couldn’t imagine how it could have possibly fit through the door. Or how many men it must have taken to carry it.

Shota sat regally, her impassive almond eyes watching Richard. She reclined slightly, against the red velvet, one leg crossed over the other, her arms resting on the chair’s high, wide-spaced arms, with hands draped haughtily over gold gargoyles. The gargoyles licked her wrists while she clicked one long, lacquered fingernail against a thumbnail. Luxuriant auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders.

Shota redirected her ageless eyes to Kahlan. The long, rock-solid gaze felt as if it paralyzed her, penetrated her. A red, white, and black banded snake slumped down, hanging from the canopy. It flicked its tongue at Kahlan, hissing, and then dropped into Shota’s lap, coiling up like a contented cat.

It was a message to say that she had not been invited, and was now warned of what would happen if Shota became displeased. Kahlan swallowed, trying not to let it show. After what seemed an eternity, and after the witch woman seemed satisfied that the message was understood, she turned her unblinking eyes back to Richard.

“Put your sword away, Richard.” Shota’s voice was like smooth velvet rubbed the right way. Kahlan didn’t think it was fair that anyone that beautiful should also be graced with a voice that could melt butter, or a man’s heart.

“From the impression you left when we parted, I fear you might try to kill me.” His voice, also, was annoyingly smooth.

“If I decide to kill you, my dear boy, and I may, your sword will not help you.” Richard suddenly yelped and dropped the sword as if it was a hot coal. He stared down at the sword as he comforted his hand. “Now, put it away.” That time the quality of her voice was more of velvet rubbed the wrong way.

From under his eyebrows, Richard looked up at Shota on her throne, before bending to retrieve his sword and slide it back into its scabbard.

A self-satisfied smile spread across Shota’s full lips. She lifted the snake from her lap and set it aside. Shota watched Richard a moment longer and then stood, leaning forward enough in the process to offer her breasts the opportunity to fall out of her wispy, low-cut, variegated gray dress. How they managed not to, Kahlan didn’t know. A little stoppered bottle tumbled from its snug place between her breasts and swung on a fine silver chain.

Kahlan’s face heated as Shota gracefully descended the three platforms, never taking her eyes from Richard. The loose points of the dress floated gently, as if in a light breeze. But there was no breeze inside the spirit house.

That fabric, Kahlan decided, was definitely too thin for a dress. She wondered what she would look like in it, and blushed at the mental image.

Once standing on the ground, Shota turned and pulled the stopper from the little bottle. The entire throne wavered, like something seen through heat waves. Abruptly it turned to gray smoke and swirled in a circle, diminishing all the time in size, and sucked itself into a fine line that went into the little bottle. Shota replaced the stopper, tucked the bottle back between her breasts, and with a finger, pushed it so far down it could no longer be seen. Kahlan took a deep, noisy breath.

Shota’s gaze glided from Richard’s eyes and took in his open shirt with what might have been amusement. Or satisfaction. Richard’s face reddened.

Shota’s smile widened. “How delightfully indecent.” She ran one of her long, red nails all the way down his chest to his navel, and then she gently patted his stomach. “Button your shirt, Richard, or I may forget why I’m here.”

His face turned a deeper red. Kahlan moved deliberately closer to his side as he began redoing the buttons.

“Shota,” he said as he tucked the tails in his pants, “I have to thank you. You may not know it, but you really helped me before. Helped me to figure it out.”

“It was my intention to help you.”

“You don’t understand. I mean you helped me figure out how to be with Kahlan. You helped me figure out how we could be together. How to love her.” He smiled. “We’re going to be married.”

There was a moment of icy silence.

“That’s right,” Kahlan said, holding her chin up, “we love each other . . . and can be together now . . . Forever.” She hated the way Shota made her feel explanations were necessary, and the way she fumbled with them.

Shota’s intense gaze slid to her and her smile slowly evaporated, making Kahlan have to swallow again. “You ignorant children,” Shota whispered as she slowly shook her head. “You foolish, ignorant children.”

Richard’s expression was becoming heated. “We may be ignorant, but we are not children, and we love each other. And we are going to be married. I was hoping you would be happy for us, Shota, since you played a small part in it.”

“What I told you, dear boy, was that you needed to kill her.”

“But that’s all over,” Kahlan protested. “The problem has been solved. It’s all right for us now. Everything is all right.”

Kahlan gasped as she felt her feet lift off the ground. Both she and Richard were flung across the room and up against the wall. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Little points of light floated and danced before her eyes. She looked down, trying to clear her vision.

She and Richard were flattened against the mud-brick wall, a good three feet off the ground. She could hardly breathe. The only thing she could move was her head. Even her clothes were flattened. Her cloak lay against the wall as if it were the floor. Richard was as helpless as she. They both struggled, twisting their heads, but it was useless; they were stuck tight.

Shota glided across the room toward them, her eyes hot and dangerous. She stopped in front of Kahlan. “He didn’t need to kill you? And it’s all right now, is it, Mother Confessor?”

“Yes,” Kahlan managed, trying to sound confident as she hung helpless.

“Did it ever occur to you, Mother Confessor, that perhaps there are reasons behind what I say?”

“Yes, but that has all . . .”

“Did it ever occur to you, Mother Confessor, that there is a reason why Confessors are not supposed to love their mates? And perhaps another reason he should have killed you?”

Kahlan couldn’t answer. Her mind raced with frantic thoughts.

“What are you talking about?” Richard demanded.

Shota ignored him. “Did it, Mother Confessor?”

Kahlan’s throat was so dry, she had to swallow twice before she could speak. “What do you mean? What reason?”

“Have you lain with this man you love? Have you done that yet, Mother Confessor?”

It was Kahlan’s turn to blush. “What kind of question is that to ask someone!”

“Answer the question, Mother Confessor,” Shota hissed, “or I will skin you right now and use your hide to make myself something pretty. I am of a mind to do it anyway. You had better not even think of lying to me.”

“I . . . We . . . No! And what business is it of yours anyway!”

Shota stepped closer. Her eyes sent a silent shriek through Kahlan. “Maybe you’d better think twice before you do, Mother Confessor.”

“What do you mean?” she breathed, wide-eyed.

Shota folded her arms across her breasts. Her voice became more menacing. “Confessors are not supposed to love their mates, because if they bear a male child, she has to ask the husband to kill the baby. The husband is supposed to have been taken by the Confessor’s power, so that he will do whatever she asks. Without question.”

“But . . .”

Shota stepped even closer, her eyes filled with fury. “If you love him, how could you ask that of him! How could you ask Richard to kill his son? Do you think he would? Would you? Would you kill the son of the man you love? Would you, Mother Confessor?”

Shota’s words knifed into Kahlan’s heart and soul, leaving her barely able to whisper the answer. “No.”

She felt her hopes and happiness collapsing. In the joy of finding she could be with Richard, she hadn’t given any thought to the future. To the consequences. To children. She had thought only of Richard and her being together.

Shota was screaming at her. “And then what, Mother Confessor! You will raise him? And you will visit upon the world a male Confessor? A male Confessor!” She unfolded her arms, her white-knuckled fists dropping to her sides. “You will bring the world to the dark times again! The dark times! Because of you! Because you love this man! Did you ever think of that, you ignorant child?”

The lump in Kahlan’s throat threatened to choke her. She wanted to run from Shota, but she couldn’t move. “Not all male Confessors are that way.”

“Almost every one is! Almost every one!” She pointed a single finger at Richard without looking at him. “Are you going to risk the world, because you love this man? Risk sending everyone into the terror of the dark times, just because you would selfishly want the son of this man to live?”

“Shota,” Richard’s voice was surprisingly calm. “Most Confessors bear girls. You are worrying about something that probably won’t even happen. We may not even have children. Not all couples conceive. You are extending your worries along a lot of forks in the road.”

Richard suddenly slid down the wall, landing with a grunt. In a rage, Shota grabbed his shirt in her fists and lifted him, slamming him against the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. “Do you think I am as stupid as you? I know the flow of time! I am a witch woman! I told you before, I know how certain events flow and unfold! If you lie with this woman, she will have a male child! She is a Confessor! Every Confessor bears a Confessor! Always! If you give her a child, it will be a boy!”

She slammed him against the wall again. Kahlan winced at the sound of his head hitting the wall. Shota’s behavior was frightening, and seemed out of character. She had impressed Kahlan before as menacing in the extreme, but she also seemed intelligent and reasonable. At least to an extent. She seemed different now, unstable.

Richard didn’t try to remove her hands, but Kahlan could see he was getting angry. “Shota—”

She slammed him up against the wall again. “Keep your tongue still or I will cut it out!”

Richard’s rage looked to match Shota’s. “You were wrong before, Shota! Wrong! There are many ways for events to flow forward in time. Had I listened to you the last time, and killed Kahlan when you wanted me to, Darken Rahl would rule us all now! And it would have been because I followed your stupid advice! It was through her that I defeated Darken Rahl! If I had done as you wished, we would have lost!”

His chest heaved as he glared at her. “If you have come all this way to threaten us about some perceived threat, you have wasted your time. I didn’t do it your way the last time, and I will not do it your way now! I will not kill her nor will I give her up on your word! On anyone’s!”

Shota stared at him a moment and then removed her hands from his shirt. “I did not come here about some ‘perceived’ threat to the future,” she whispered. “I did not come here to argue with you about making babies with Confessors, Richard Rahl.”

Richard jerked back in shock. “I’m not . . .”

“I came here, because I may want to kill you for what you have done, Richard Rahl. That you two ignorant children want to go make babies is a flea on the back of the true monster you have already created.”

“Why are you calling me that?” Richard whispered.

Shota studied his pale face. “Because that is who you are.”

“I am Richard Cypher. George Cypher was my father.”

“You were raised by a man named Cypher. You were sired by one named Darken Rahl. He raped your mother.”

Richard’s face turned whiter. Kahlan ached for him. She understood now, knew it was true. This was what she had seen in him; she had seen the face of his father, Darken Rahl. She tried desperately to free herself, to go to him, but couldn’t.

Richard shook his head. “No. That’s not true. It just isn’t possible.”

“True,” Shota snapped. “Your father was Darken Rahl. Your grandfather is Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.”

“Zedd?” he whispered. “Zedd is my grandfather?” He straightened. “Darken Rahl . . . No, he can’t be. It’s not true.”

He turned and looked up at Kahlan. He saw it in her face, saw that she knew it was. He turned back to Shota. “Zedd would have told me. He would have. I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care,” she said in a flat tone. “I don’t care what you believe. I know the truth.” Her emotion came back. “And the truth is you are the bastard son of a bastard son of a bastard son! And each one of those bastard sons, all the way back, had the gift. Worse, Zedd has the gift. You have the gift, but it is from two bloodlines of wizards.” She glared at his wide eyes. “You are a very dangerous person, Richard Rahl.” Richard looked like he might fall down. “You have the gift. In this case, I would be more inclined to call it a curse.”

“I would agree with you about that,” Richard whispered.

“You know you have the gift? We are going to have no argument about that?” Richard could only nod. “The rest of it I could not care less about. You are the son of Darken Rahl, and on the other side, the grandson of Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. He is the father of your mother. If you choose to ignore the truth of that, I don’t care. Believe as you will. Delude yourself as you will. I am not here to argue your ancestry.”

Richard leaned back until the wall stopped him. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Go away, Shota. Please, go away.” His voice sounded as if all life had gone out of him. “I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say. Just go away. Leave me alone.”

“I am disappointed in you, Richard.”

“I don’t care.”

“I didn’t know you were this stupid.”

“I don’t care.”

“I thought George Cypher meant something to you. I thought you had some kind of honor.”

His head came up. “What do you mean?”

“George Cypher raised you. Gave you his time, his love. He taught you, cared for you, provided for you. Shaped you. And you would throw that away because someone else raped your mother? That is what is important to you?”

Richard’s eyes lit with fire. His hands started coming up. Kahlan thought he was going to try to strangle Shota, but then his hands sank back to his sides. “But . . . if Darken Rahl is my father . . .”

Shota threw her arms up in the air. “What? You are suddenly going to start acting like him? You are going to spontaneously start doing vile things because you now know? You fear you will go out and kill innocent people because you learned your real father is Darken Rahl? You will ignore the things you learned from George Cypher because you find your name is Rahl? And you call yourself the Seeker. I am disappointed in you, Richard. I thought you were your own man. Not the reflection of others’ impressions of your ancestors.”

Richard hung his head as Shota frowned angrily and watched him in silence. At last he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Shota. Thank you for not letting me be any more stupid than I already am.” His eyes were wet as he turned to Kahlan. “Please, Shota, let her down.”

Kahlan felt the pressure lift, and she slid down the wall, her boots thumping against the ground. The glare Shota gave her made her stay where she was, even though she wanted to go to Richard. He stared at his boots.

Shota put her fingers under his chin and lifted his head. “You should be happy; your father was not ugly. Some of his looks are the only thing of his you have. That, and a bit of his temper. And the gift.”

Richard pulled his chin away from her fingers. “The gift. I don’t want the gift. I don’t want anything to do with it. I wouldn’t call anything I got from Darken Rahl a gift. I hate it! I hate magic!”

“It comes from Zedd, too,” Shota said with surprising compassion. “From both sides. That is the way you get the gift; it is passed down, sometimes skipping one, or even many generations. Sometimes not. You received it from both sides. In you, it is more than a single dimension. It is a very dangerous mix.”

“Passed down. Like any other deformity.”

With a sneer, Shota gripped his face in her long fingers. “Remember that before you lie with her. From Kahlan, the boy would be a Confessor. From you—he would have the gift. Can you even fathom the danger of that? Can you conceive of a Confessor with the gift? A male Confessor? I doubt you can. You should have killed her when I told you to, you ignorant child, before you found a way to be with her. You should have killed her.”

Richard glared at her. “I’ve heard enough of that talk. I intend to hear no more of it. I told you before; it is through Kahlan I defeated Darken Rahl. Had I killed her, he would have won. I hope you didn’t waste your journey here just to repeat this nonsense.”

“No,” Shota said quietly. “None of these things matter. That is not why I am here. I came because of what you have done, not because of what you might do someday. What you have already done, Richard, is worse than anything you could ever do with this woman. No monster you conceive with her could equal the monster you have already created.”

Richard frowned. “I stopped Darken Rahl from ruling the world. I killed him. I created no monster.”

She shook her head slowly. “The Magic of Orden killed him. I told you; he mustn’t open a box. You didn’t kill him, you let him open one of the boxes of Orden. The Magic of Orden killed him. You were supposed to kill him before he opened one of the boxes.”

“I couldn’t! That was the only way! There was no other way to kill him! And what difference does it make anyway? He’s dead!”

“It would have been better if you had let him win than let him open the wrong box.”

“You’re crazy! What could be worse than Darken Rahl gaining the Magic of Orden and ruling the world unchallenged!”

Her eyebrows lifted. “The Keeper,” she whispered. “It would have been better to let Darken Rahl rule us, or behead us, or even torture us to death, than what you have allowed to happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Keeper of the underworld is kept in his place, kept from the world of the living, by the veil. The veil holds him and his minions back. Holds the underworld back. It keeps the dead from the living. What you have done has torn that veil. Already, some of the Keeper’s assassins have been loosed.”

“The screelings . . .” Richard whispered.

Shota nodded. “Yes. By freeing the Magic of Orden, you have allowed its magic to somehow tear the veil to the underworld. If it tears enough, the Keeper will be freed. You can’t even conceive of what that means.” Shota lifted the Agiel at his neck. “It will make what was done to you with this seem like a lover’s kiss compared to what he will do. To everyone. It would have been better to have let Darken Rahl win, than to have let this happen. You have condemned everyone to a fate beyond horror.”

She gripped the Agiel in her fist. “I should kill you for what you have done. I should make you suffer unspeakably. Do you have any idea how much the Keeper would like to settle his gaze upon one with the gift? Do you have any idea how much he wants those with the gift? Or how much he wants witch women?”

Kahlan saw tears run down Shota’s cheeks. With a flush of understanding that sent an icy ripple of panic through her, Kahlan realized Shota wasn’t angry. She was afraid.

That was why she was here: not because she was angry at Kahlan being alive, or at them having a child. She was here because she was terrified. The idea of Shota, a witch woman, being afraid was worse than anything her own mind could conjure.

Richard stared at her, his eyes wide. “But . . . there must be something we can do, some way to stop it.”

“We?” she screamed, jabbing her finger at his chest. “You! Only you, Richard Rahl! Only you! Only you can fix it!”

“Me! Why me?”

“I don’t know,” she cried through gritted teeth. “But you are the only one with the power.” She pounded her fist against his chest. “You!” She kept hitting his chest as he just stood there. “You are the only one who has a chance! I don’t know why, but only you can fix it. Only you can repair the tear in the veil.” Shota was sobbing now. “Only you, you stupid, foolish child.”

Kahlan was dazed by the magnitude of what was happening. The idea of the Keeper being loose was beyond comprehension. The dead in the world of the living; she couldn’t imagine the horror of it, but seeing Shota’s fear put dimension to the dread.

“Shota . . . I don’t know anything about it. I don’t have any idea of how to . . .”

Shota was still hitting his chest as she cried. “You must. You must find a way. You have no idea what the Keeper would do to me, what he’d do to a witch woman. If you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself. He would be no easier on you than me. And if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Kahlan. He would have her for an eternity of pain for no other reason than that you love her. He would do it to her just to make it worse for you. We will all be held on the cusp between life and death for all eternity, twisting in anguish.” She was sobbing uncontrollably now. “Our souls will be stripped from us . . . He will have our souls . . . forever.”

Shota hit Richard’s chest again. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, comforting her as she cried. “Forever, Richard. Soulless minds trapped by the dead. An eternity of torment. You are too stupid to even comprehend it. You could never even imagine the horror of it, until it happens.”

Kahlan stood next to Richard, putting her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. She felt no anger at the sight of him comforting Shota. She could see how terrified the witch woman was. Kahlan couldn’t share the same level of terror, because she didn’t know the things Shota knew. But in some ways, seeing Shota’s reaction was knowing enough.

“Screelings came into the Reach,” she cried.

Richard looked down at her. “Screelings! In Agaden Reach?”

“Screelings, and a wizard. A particularly nasty wizard. Samuel and I escaped with little more than our lives.”

“A wizard!” With his hands on her shoulders, Richard pushed her away. “What do you mean a wizard? There are no other wizards.”

“There is one in the Reach. The screelings and the wizard are in Agaden Reach now. They are in my home. My home!”

Kahlan couldn’t hold her tongue. “Shota, are you sure it was a wizard? Could it be someone pretending to be a wizard? There are no more wizards. Except Zedd. They are all dead.”

Shota gave a tearful frown. “Do you think anyone could deceive me about having magic? I know a wizard when I see one, and I know a wizard with the gift. I know wizard’s fire. This one is a wizard with the gift, young though he is. I don’t know where he came from, or why no one knew of him. But he was with screelings. Screelings!

“That can mean only one thing. This wizard has given himself over to the Keeper. He is doing the Keeper’s bidding. He is working to tear the veil the rest of the way for the Keeper. It means the Keeper has agents in this world. Darken Rahl was probably one of them. That is why he was able to use Subtractive Magic.”

Shota turned to Richard. “That the Keeper is using wizards means that it must take a wizard to tear the veil. You have the gift. You are a wizard. A stupid wizard, but a wizard nonetheless. I don’t know why, but you are the only one with a chance to close the tear.”

Richard brushed a tear from Shota’s cheek. “What are you going to do?”

The fire came back to Shota’s eyes. Her teeth clenched. “I am going back to the Reach. I am going to take back my home.”

“But they chased you out.”

“They took me by surprise,” she snapped. “I only came here to tell you how stupid you are. And that you must do something about it. You must close the tear, or we are all . . .”

Shota turned her back to them. “I am going back to the Reach. The Keeper is going to lose his agent. I am going to take the gift from him. Do you know how to remove the gift from a wizard?”

“No.” Richard looked interested. “I didn’t know it could be done.”

“Oh yes, it can be done.” She turned and arched an eyebrow. “If you rip their skin off, the magic bleeds from them. That is the only way to remove the gift from a wizard. I am going to hang him up by his thumbs, and then I am going to skin him alive. Every inch of him. Then I am going to use his skin to cover my throne. Then I am going to sit on my throne, on his skin, and watch him scream to death as the magic bleeds from him.” She made a fist. “Or I am going to die trying.”

“Shota, I need some help. I don’t know anything about all this.”

Shota stared off flexing her fists. At last her hands relaxed and opened. “There is nothing I can tell you that will help.”

“You mean there is something you can tell me, but it won’t help.” Shota nodded. Richard sighed. “What is it?”

She folded her arms against her stomach. Her eyes were wet again. “You will be trapped in time. Don’t ask what that means, because I don’t know. You will have no chance of closing the veil unless you escape the trap. It will keep you locked away, and the Keeper will escape unless you are able to free yourself. Unless you learn something of the gift, you have no chance for either.”

Richard walked to the far side of the room. He stood with his back to them, one hand on a hip, his other combing through his hair. Kahlan didn’t look at Shota. She didn’t want to meet the witch woman’s gaze if she didn’t have to.

“Is there anything else?” Richard called over his shoulder. “Anything you can tell me? Anything?”

“No. And believe me, if there was I would be more than anxious to offer it. I don’t wish to meet the Keeper’s gaze.”

Richard thought by himself for a time. At last, he came back and stood before Shota. “I am having headaches. Bad headaches.”

Shota nodded. “The gift.”

“Three women came. They call themselves the Sisters of the Light. They said I have to come with them to learn to use the gift, or the headaches will kill me.” Richard studied her face. “What do you know about them?”

“I am a witch woman. I don’t know much about wizards. But the Sisters of the Light have something to do with wizards. With training them. That is all I know. I don’t even know where they are from. They come once in a great while, when they find one has been born with the gift.”

“What if I don’t go with them? Will I die, as they say?”

“If you don’t learn to control the gift, the headaches will kill you. That much I know.”

“But are they the only way?”

Shota shrugged. “I don’t know. But I know you must learn to use the gift, or you will not escape the trap, or be able to close the veil—or even survive the headaches.”

“So you are saying you think I should go?”

“No. I said you must learn to use the gift. There may be another way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know, Richard. I don’t even know if there is another way. I’m sorry, but I can be of no help in this. I just don’t know. Only a fool will give advice about something she doesn’t understand. I can give you no advice in this.”

“Shota,” Richard pleaded, “I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand any of it, the Sisters, the gift, or the Keeper. Isn’t there anything you can tell me to help me?”

“I have told you everything I know. I feel as lost as you. Worse. I have no ability to influence what will happen. At least you have that. Dim as the chance is.” Shota’s eyes glistened. “I fear I am going to look into the Keeper’s dead eyes. Forever. I haven’t been able to sleep since I learned these things. If I knew anything, I would help. I just don’t know anything about the world of the dead. It is not something the living have faced yet.”

Richard stared at the ground. “Shota,” he whispered. “I don’t have any idea what to do. I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.”

She nodded. “So am I.” She reached out and touched his face. “Good-bye, Richard Rahl. Don’t fight who you are. Use it.” She turned to Kahlan. “I don’t know if you can help him, but if there is a way, I know you will do your best.”

Kahlan nodded. “That I will, Shota. I hope you get your home back.”

Shota gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Mother Confessor.”

She turned and glided to the door, her wispy dress flowing behind. She pushed the door open. Samuel was waiting on the other side, his yellow eyes shining. Shota stopped in the doorway and stiffened.

“Richard, if you should happen to somehow close the veil, and save me from the Keeper, save everyone from the Keeper, I will be forever grateful to you.”

“Thank you, Shota.”

Her back was still to them. “But know this: if you give the Mother Confessor a child, it will be a boy. It will be a Confessor. Neither of you will have the strength to kill him, even though you know the consequences.” She paused a moment. “My mother lived in the dark times.” Her voice was like ice. “I have the strength. And, I will use it. You have my word on that. But know that it will not be personal.”

The door squeaked closed behind her. The spirit house felt suddenly very empty. Very quiet.

Kahlan felt numb. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She wanted Richard to hug her, but he didn’t do it. He was staring at the door. His face was white as snow.

“I don’t believe this,” he whispered. He still stared at the door. “How can this be happening? Am I dreaming all this?”

Kahlan felt as if her knees were about to buckle. “Richard, what are we going to do?”

Richard turned to her, his eyes distant. They filled with tears. “This has to be a nightmare.”

“If it is, I’m having the same one. Richard, what are we going to do?”

“Why does everyone ask me that? Why does everyone always ask me? What makes everyone think I am the one who knows?”

Kahlan stood woodenly, trying to make her mind work.

She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. “Because you are Richard. You are the Seeker.”

“I don’t know anything about the underworld, the Keeper. The world of the dead.”

“Shota says no one living does.”

Richard seemed to come out of his daze. Abruptly he grabbed her shoulders. “Then we must ask the dead.”

“What?”

“The ancestors’ spirits are dead. We can talk to them. I can ask for a gathering and ask them questions. We can learn from them. Maybe we can find out how to close the veil. Maybe I can find out how to stop the headaches, how to use the gift.” He gripped her arm. “Come on.”

Kahlan almost smiled. He was indeed the Seeker. Richard pulled her through the passageways, running when they could see well enough. Clouds hid the moon and it was dark between the buildings. The air was like ice on her face, making tears run from the corners of her eyes.

When they reached the open field, there was light. Torches lit the people gathered there. They were all still bunched together with hunters shielding everyone; they didn’t know the witch woman was gone. The entire village watched in silence as the two of them crossed the opening, the hunters parting for them as they approached the Bird Man and the other six elders. Chandalen stood to their side.

“Everyone is safe,” Kahlan reassured them. “The witch woman is gone.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Chandalen thumped the butt of his spear on the ground. “Again you bring trouble!”

Richard ignored him and asked her to translate. He took in the elders and let his gaze settle on the Bird Man. “Honored elder. The witch woman was not here to harm anyone. She was here to warn me about a great danger.”

“You claim,” Chandalen snapped. “We do not know this to be true.”

Kahlan knew Richard was struggling to keep calm. “Do you doubt that if she wanted to send you to the spirit world, she could have done it?” Chandalen answered only with a glare. The Bird Man gave Chandalen a look that seemed to shrink him a few inches. He looked to Richard. “What danger?”

“She says we are in danger of the dead escaping into the world of the living.”

“They cannot come into the world of the living. The veil keeps them back.”

“You know of the veil?”

“Yes. Each level of the dead, the underworld as you call it, is sealed with a veil. When we hold a gathering, we invite our ancestors’ spirits to visit us, and they are able to come through the veil for a short time.”

Richard studied the Bird Man’s face a moment. “What else can you tell me about the veil?”

The other shrugged. “Nothing. We know only what our ancestors’ spirits have told us about it: that they must pass through it to come to us when we call them, and that it holds them back the rest of the time. They tell us that there are many levels of the underworld, the dead, and that they are in the uppermost level, and so they can come. Those who are not honored are in lower levels, and may not come. Their spirits are locked away forever.”

Richard met the eyes of all the elders. “The veil is torn. If it isn’t sealed again, the world of the dead will swallow us all.” Gasps spread back through the gathered people. Fearful whispering broke out. Richard’s gaze went back to the Bird Man. “Please, honored elder, I request a gathering. I must have the help of our ancestors’ spirits. I must find a way to seal the veil before the Keeper of the dead escapes. The spirit ancestors may be able to help. I must know if they can help.”

Chandalen thumped his spear. “Lies! You carry us the lies of a witch woman. We should not call the honored spirits of our ancestors for the words of a witch woman! The spirits of our ancestors are called only for our people, not a witch woman! They will strike all our people dead for such blasphemy!”

Richard glared at him. “They are not being called by a witch woman. It is I who makes the request, and I am one of the Mud People. I ask for the gathering to help me keep our people from being harmed.”

“You bring death to us. You bring strangers. You bring the witch woman. You only wish to help yourself. How did this veil become torn?”

Richard unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up his arm. He slowly pulled the Sword of Truth. Holding Chandalen’s glare, he drew the sword across his forearm, turning it to wipe both sides in the blood. He jammed the point in the ground and rested both hands over the hilt.

“Kahlan, I want you to translate something. Don’t leave out a single word.” Richard returned his glare to Chandalen. His voice was calm, almost gentle, but his eyes shone with lethal intent. “Chandalen, if I hear one more word from you tonight, even if it is to agree with me and offer your help, I will kill you. Some of the things the witch woman told me have put me in the mood to kill. If you give me any more reason—it will be you I kill.”

The eyes of all the elders widened. Chandalen opened his mouth to say something, but at seeing the look on Richard’s face, he shut his mouth and folded his arms. His glower was fierce, but no match for Richard’s. At last he glanced to the ground.

Richard spoke again to the Bird Man. “Honored elder, you know my heart. You know I would do nothing to harm our people. I would not ask this if it were not important, or if I had any other choice. Please, may I have a gathering so I may ask our ancestors’ spirits how I can stop this threat to our people?”

The Bird Man turned to the other elders. Each nodded in turn. Kahlan knew they would; it was only a formality. Savidlin was their friend, and the others had dealt with Richard before; there was not one of them who wanted to challenge him. The real decision was the Bird Man’s. He watched each elder nod, and then turned back to Richard.

“This is bad business. I do not like calling the ancestors to ask about their world. It is our world they come to help us with. They may be displeased. They may be angered. They may say no.” He watched Richard a moment. “But I know your heart. I know you are a savior to our people, and you would not ask if you had any other choice.” He laid a firm hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Granted.”

Kahlan sighed in relief. Richard nodded his thanks. Kahlan knew he didn’t look forward to meeting the ancestors’ spirits again. The last time had been devastating to him.

Suddenly, there was a flutter of shadow in the air. Kahlan threw her hands up protectively. Richard was knocked back a step as something hit him on the head. People shouted in confusion. A dark shape thumped to the ground between Richard and the Bird Man. Richard straightened, putting his fingers to his scalp. Blood trickled down his forehead.

The Bird Man squatted down over a dark form, and then straightened. He was holding a dead owl cradled in his hands. The head lolled to the side. The wings fell open. The elders all looked at one another. Chandalen’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

Richard inspected the blood on his fingers. “Why in the world would an owl hit me like that? And what killed it?”

The Bird Man gently smoothed the dead bird’s feathers. “Birds live in the air, a different level than us. They live in two levels—land and air. They can travel between their level and ours. Birds are closely connected to the spirit world. To the spirits. Owls more than most birds. They see in the night, where we are blind, just as we are blind to the spirit world. I am a spirit guide for our people. Only a Bird Man can be a spirit guide, because he can understand such things.”

He held the dead bird a little higher. “This is a warning. I have never witnessed an owl bringing a spirit message before. This bird gave its life to warn you. Richard, please reconsider your request for a gathering. This warning means the gathering will be dangerous, dangerous enough for the spirits to send this message.”

Richard looked from the Bird Man’s face to the owl. He reached out and stroked its feathers. No one made a sound. “Dangerous for me, or for the elders?”

“For you. You are the one calling for the gathering. The owl brought the message to you. The warning was for you.” He glanced up at Richard’s forehead. “A blood warning. One of the worst kinds. The only thing worse than an owl, would have been if a raven had brought the message. That would have meant sure death.”

Richard took his hand back and wiped his fingers on his shirt. He stared down at the dead owl. “I don’t have any choice,” he whispered. “If I don’t do something, the veil will be torn, and the Keeper of the dead will escape. Our people, everyone, will be swallowed into the world of the dead. I must learn how to stop it. I must try.”

The Bird Man nodded. “As you wish. It will take three days to prepare.” Richard looked up. “You did it in two days before. We can’t spare any time.”

The elder took a deep breath and sighed. “Two days.”

“Thank you, honored elder.” Richard turned to her, his eyes were filled with pain. “Kahlan, please, find Nissel, and bring her? I’m going to the spirit house. Ask her to bring something stronger?”

She squeezed his arm. “Of course. I’ll hurry.”

Richard nodded. He pulled his sword from the ground and walked off into the darkness.