Stone of Tears

Chapter 21

“How long?” Chase asked.

The seven fierce-looking men that were squatted down in a half circle before her and Chase just stared at him and blinked. None of the seven had any weapons except belt knives, and one didn’t even have that. But there were a lot of other men standing behind them, and they all had bows or spears, or both.

Rachel tugged her thick, brown, woolen cloak tighter around herself and shifted her weight as she squatted, wiggling her toes, wishing her feet weren’t so cold. They were starting to tingle. She stroked her fingers over the big, amber stone hanging on the chain from her neck. Its smooth teardrop shape felt warm against her fingers.

Chase mumbled something Rachel couldn’t understand as he pushed his heavy black cloak back over his shoulders and then pointed with a stick at the two people drawn in the dirt. All the leather belts for his weapons creaked as he leaned forward on boots big enough for any of the other men to fit both of their feet into just one. He tapped his stick on the ground again, then turned and pushed his hand out toward the grassland.

“How long?” He pointed at the drawing and pushed his hand out a few more times. “How long since they left?”

They chattered something Chase and she couldn’t understand, and then the man with long silver hair falling down around his sun brown face, the one who didn’t have a coyote hide around his shoulders but wore only simple buckskin clothes, drew another picture in the dirt. She could tell what it was easy this time. It was the sun. He made marks under it. Chase watched as the man drew three rows of marks under the picture of the sun. He stopped.

Chase stared at the picture. “Three weeks.” He looked up at the man with the long hair. “Three weeks?” He pointed at the sun on the ground and held up most of his fingers three times. “They’ve been gone three weeks?”

The man nodded and made some more of those funny words.

Siddin handed her another piece of flat bread with honey. It tasted wonderful. She tried to eat it slowly, but it was gone before she knew it. She had tasted honey only once before, back at the castle when she lived there as the Princess’s playmate. The Princess never let her have honey, said it wasn’t for the likes of her, but one of the cooks had given her some once.

Her stomach fluttered at the memory of how mean the Princess had been to her. She never wanted to live in a castle again. Now that she was Chase’s daughter, she would never have to. Every night she lay in her blankets, before she went to sleep, and wondered what the rest of her new family was like.

Chase said she would have sisters and brothers. And a real mother. He said she would have to mind her new mother. She could do that. It was easy to mind when someone loved you.

Chase loved her. He never really said it, but it was easy to tell. He put his huge arm around her, and stroked her hair, when she was afraid of sounds in the dark.

Siddin smiled at her as he licked the honey off his fingers. It was nice to see him again. When they had first come here she thought there was going to be trouble. Scary men, all painted with mud, and with grass stuck all over themselves, came up to them when they were still out on the grassland. She didn’t even see where they came from. They were just there all of a sudden.

Rachel was afraid at first, because the men pointed arrows at them, and their voices sounded scary and she couldn’t understand what they said, but Chase just got off the horse and held her in his arms while he watched them. He didn’t even draw his sword or anything. She didn’t think anything scared him. He was the bravest man she ever saw. The men had looked at her as she stared at them, and Chase stroked her hair and told her not to be afraid. The men stopped pointing the arrows at them, and led them to the village.

When they got here, she saw Siddin. Siddin knew her and Chase, from before when Kahlan had saved him from Queen Milena back in the castle. Zedd, Kahlan, Chase, Siddin, and she had all been together when they were running with the box. She couldn’t speak Siddin’s language, but he knew them, and told his father who they were. After that, everyone was real nice to them.

Chase pointed with one finger to one of the pictures of a person, the finger of his other hand to the other picture, and then held the fingers together and pointed away, moving his hands like they were going over hills. “Richard and Kahlan left three weeks ago, and they went north? To Aydindril?”

The men all shook their heads and started jabbering again. Siddin’s father held up his hand for quiet. He pointed at himself and the other men and held up three fingers, then he pointed at the picture on the ground that had a dress and said Kahlan’s name, and then he pointed north.

Chase pointed at the picture of the sun, then the picture of Kahlan, then at the men, holding up three fingers, then north. “Three weeks ago, Kahlan and three of your men went north, to Aydindril?”

The men all nodded and said “Kahlan” and “Aydindril.”

Chase put a knee to the ground as he leaned forward, tapping the picture of the other person. “But Richard went, too.” He pointed north again. “Richard went to Aydindril too. With Kahlan.”

The men all turned to the man with the long silver hair. He looked at Chase and then shook his head. The carved piece of bone hanging from a leather thong around his neck swung back and forth. He pointed down at the picture of the man with a sword, and then pointed in a different direction.

Chase stared at the man for a long minute; then he frowned, as if he didn’t understand. The man leaned over with the stick and drew three more people, each with a dress. He looked up from under his eyebrows as if he wanted to make sure Chase was watching, and then he drew an X across two of the figures. His eyes returned to Chase again as he folded his arms over his knees, waiting.

“What does that mean? Dead? Is that what you mean, they are dead?” The men stared, not moving. Chase pulled a single finger, like a knife, across his throat. “Dead?”

The man with the silver hair gave one nod and said “dead,” but it sounded a little funny, the way he made the word seem longer than it should. He pointed with his stick to the picture of the sun, then the picture of Kahlan, and then he pointed over his shoulder to the way they went. He pointed to the sun again, then at the picture of Richard, then at the picture of the woman without the X, then he pointed in a different direction.

Chase stood. His chest rose and then fell as he let out the deep breath. He was awfully tall. He stared in the direction the man with the silver hair said Richard had gone. “East. That’s deeper into the wilds,” he whispered to himself. “Why isn’t he with Kahlan?” He rubbed his chin. Rachel thought he looked worried. It couldn’t be that he looked scared. Nothing scared Chase. “Dear spirits, why would Richard go deeper into the wilds? What could possess Kahlan to let that boy go into the wilds? And who is he with?” The men all glanced at each other, as if they were wondering why Chase was talking to the air.

Chase squatted back down, all his leather creaking, and pointed at the drawing of the third woman and frowned and shrugged at the men. He pointed at the picture of Richard and the woman and pointed east again. He held the palms of his hands up near his shoulders as he shrugged and made faces to show he didn’t understand.

The man with the long silver hair gave Chase a sad look as he let out a long breath. He pointed at the third woman, the one without an X, and then he turned and took a rope from a man behind him. He wrapped the rope around his own neck. He looked to Chase’s frown and then he pointed to the picture of Richard. When Chase looked up and their eyes met, the man pulled the rope tight with a snap. He pointed east. He touched the stick to the picture of Kahlan and then pulled his fingers down his cheeks, from the corners of his eye, like tears, then pointed north.

Chase stood. It was almost a jump. His face was pale. “She took him,” he whispered. “This woman captured Richard, and took him into the wilds.”

Rachel stood next to him. “What does it mean, Chase? Why didn’t Kahlan go with him?”

He looked down at her. His face had an odd, still look that made her stomach knot up. “She went for help. She went to Aydindril. To get Zedd.”

No one made a sound. He stared back out to the east as he hooked a thumb behind his big silver belt buckle.

“Dear spirits,” he whispered to himself, “if Richard really did go into the wilds, turn him north. Don’t let him go to the south, or even Zedd won’t be able to help him.”

Rachel hugged her doll tight. “What’s the wilds?”

“A very bad place, little one.” He stared out unblinking toward the darkening sky. “A very bad place.”

The way he said it, all calm and quiet, gave her goose bumps.

Zedd could feel the muscles in the horse’s back flexing under him as he ducked beneath a branch while slowing the animal. Zedd favored riding bareback. If he needed to ride a horse, he preferred to let the animal feel as unencumbered as possible. He thought it only fair. Most seemed to appreciate his consideration, this one especially. She gave him more than she ever would have under a saddle, and he had taken everything she had given.

He had proffered his saddle and the rest of the tack to a man named Haff. Haff had the biggest ears Zedd had ever seen. How a man with ears the like of those had ever found a wife was a wonder. But have a wife he did, and four children, too, and he looked to have more need of the tack than Zedd. Not to ride, of course, but to sell. His crops and stores had been carried off by soldiers of the D’Haran army.

It was the least Zedd could do. After all, Rachel was soaked to the bone, and Haff offered them a dry place to sleep, even if it was in a dilapidated little barn, and his wife offered them a cabbage soup, thin as it was, asking nothing in return. It was worth a saddle just to see the look on Chase’s face when Zedd said he wasn’t hungry.

The big man ate enough for three men, though, and he should have known better. There was going to be much hunger this winter. The tack wouldn’t bring its worth, not with hunger spreading like a dark wind before a thunder-head, but it would bring something, maybe enough to take the hardest edge off the winter.

Zedd saw Chase put a coin in each of the four children’s pockets, when he thought no one was looking, growling at them in a tone that would make a grown man blanch, but which for some odd reason made children only smile, not to look in the pocket until he was gone. He hoped it wasn’t gold. The boundary warden could smell a thief open a window in the next town and probably tell you his name, too, but he had no wits about him around children.

Haff suspiciously wanted to know what he was to do in return for the tack. Zedd told him he was to swear his undying loyalty to the Mother Confessor, and the new Lord Rahl of D’Hara, both of whom had put a stop to things the like of which had been done to him. The man had stared at him, his big ears sticking out under that ridiculous knit hat with a tassel on each side that only served to draw attention where it wasn’t needed, and had said, “done,” with a firm nod.

A small start: one loyal, for the price of a saddle. That it would all be so easy. But that was weeks ago. Now, he was alone.

The sweet smell of a birch fire drifted to him through the thick woods, the horse lifting her nose to it as she stepped carefully along the narrow path. In the still air, gathering darkness sent deepening shadows across the way. Even before the small house came into view, he could hear the racket: the sound of furniture being overturned, the crash of pots and pans, and demons being cursed. The horse’s ears pricked toward the commotion as they rode down the twisting trail. Zedd gave her a reassuring pat on the neck.

The little house, wood walls dark with age, and a roof thickly layered with ferns and dry pine needles, was set back into the towering trees, nestled among rough trunks dark in the day’s end. He dismounted to the side of the brown, dead ferns spreading like a garden in front of the house. The horse rolled her eyes toward him as he came around to give her a scratch under her jaw.

“Be a good girl and find yourself something to eat.” He put a finger under the horse’s chin, forcing her head up. “But stay close?” The horse nickered. With a smile, Zedd rubbed her gray nose. “Good girl.”

From inside the house came a low growl interspersed with angry clicks. Something heavy thudded to the floor, accompanied by a thick oath in a foreign tongue.

“Come out from under there, you vile beast!”

Zedd grinned at the sound of the familiar, raspy voice. He watched the horse stroll off a ways to graze on tufts of dry grass, lifting her head, while she chewed, to look back toward the house at each sharp thump.

Zedd sauntered up the curving walk toward the house. He paused, turning full around twice to admire the beauty of the surrounding woods. They truly were a wonder, calm and peaceful in a place that had been a pass through one of the most dangerous spots in the world: the boundary. But the boundary was gone now. Yet, the woods were a serene refuge, imbued with an almost palpable tranquillity that Zedd knew wasn’t natural. They had been infused with those qualities at the skilled hands of the woman who at that very moment was throwing curses bold enough to make a battle-hardened Sandarian lancer blush.

And he had seen one of those curse his own queen into a dead faint. That, of course, had only earned the man the rope. The fellow had had a few things to say to the hangman, too, which in turn didn’t bring him a clean drop, but did offer him the opportunity to get off one last eloquent, if vulgar, oath. The other lancers seemed to think the trade worth the price.

For her part, the queen never seemed to fully recover her delicate air, and thereafter always flushed a fabulous red at the mere sight of one of her lancers, needing to be fanned furiously by her attendants in order to remain conscious. She would probably have had them all hanged had they not saved her throne, to say nothing of her dainty neck, on more than one occasion. But that was a long time ago, in another war.

Clasping his hands together behind himself, Zedd inhaled deeply, relishing the clean, crisp air. Bending over, he plucked a dry, wilted wild rose, and with a wisp of magic brought it to fresh bloom. The yellow petals spread and swelled with new vitality. Closing his eyes, he took a deep whiff of the flower and then idly stuck it in his robes, over his breast. He was in no hurry.

It was not wise to interrupt a sorceress in a snit.

Through the open door came a more serious curse as the object of the sorceress’s ire was at last brought to account. With a whack from the blunt end of an axe, the thing was sent flying through the doorway. The small, armored beast landed on its back at Zedd’s feet. Wobbling, it clicked and growled as it raked the air with its claws, trying to right itself. It appeared no worse for the axe, or for its brief flight and rough landing.

Filthy gripper. It was a gripper that had attached itself to Adie’s ankle before. Once a gripper had you, there was virtually no way to get it off. It held on with those claws and rasped its teeth into you, down to bone, sucking your blood with its puckered, fang-ringed mouth. They never let go as long as there was blood to feed on, and that armor shed any counterattack.

Adie had used an axe to chop off her foot where the gripper had been attached, chopped off her own foot to save her life. Thinking about it turned his stomach. He watched the beast at his feet for a moment, then gave it a casual kick, sending it a goodly distance. Landing right side up, it waddled off into the woods in search of easier prey.

Zedd looked up at the figure standing in the doorway, scowling at him with her completely white eyes, her breast still heaving. She wore robes the same light burlap color as his, but unlike his, hers were decorated at the neck with yellow and red beads sewn in the ancient symbols of her profession. She put her fists on her hips. The scowl held a firm grip on her features, not that it diminished in the least how handsome they were.

She still held the axe in one hand, though, a worrisome sign. Best not to trouble her too quickly with what he wanted.

Zedd smiled. “You really shouldn’t play with grippers, Adie. That’s how you lost your foot the last time, you know.” He plucked the yellow rose from its place at his chest. His thin lips pushed his wrinkled cheeks back farther as his smile widened. “Got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

She watched him silently for a moment without moving, then slipped the axe head to the floor and leaned the handle against the wall just inside the door. “What do you be doing here, wizard?”

Zedd stepped onto the tiny porch and gave a dramatic bow. When he came up, he offered her the flower as if it were a priceless jewel. “I just couldn’t stay away from your tender embrace, dear lady.” He flashed his most irresistible smile.

Adie studied him a moment with those white eyes. “That be a lie.”

Zedd cleared his throat and pressed the flower closer. He thought maybe he needed to practice his smile. “Is that stew I smell?”

Without taking her gaze from him, she accepted the flower, sticking it in her straight, jaw-length black and gray hair. She truly was handsome. “It be stew.”

Her soft, thin hands took his. A small smile stole onto her finely wrinkled face, and she gave a slight nod. “It be good to see you again, Zedd. For a time, I feared I never would. I spent many a night in a sweat, knowing what would happen had you failed. When winter came and the Magic of Orden didn’t sweep the land, I knew you had succeeded.”

Zedd was encouraged that his best smile hadn’t been wasted after all, but he was careful with his answer. “Darken Rahl has been defeated.”

“What of Richard and Kahlan? Do they be safe?”

Zedd puffed up with pride. “Yes. In fact, Richard was the one who defeated Darken Rahl.”

She nodded again. “I think there be more to the story.”

He shrugged, trying to make it seem less important than it was. “A bit of a tale.”

Though the small smile still rested easily on her face, her white eyes seemed to be weighing his soul. “And there be a reason you be here. A reason I fear I won’t like.”

He pulled his hands out of hers and pushed some of his unruly, wavy white hair back while frowning. “Bags, woman, are you going to feed me any of that stew or not?”

Adie finally withdrew her white eyes from him and turned back into her home. “I think there be enough stew, even for you. Come in and shut the door. I do not wish to see another gripper tonight.”

Invited in. Well, things were going smoothly. He wondered how much he was going to have to tell her. Not all, he hoped. Wizard’s work: using people. The worst of it was using people he liked. Especially people he liked deeply.

As Zedd helped her right the chairs and table, and pick up the pots and tin plates strewn about the floor, he began telling her of the things that had happened since he had been with her last. He started with the harrowing tale of going through the pass, protected, somewhat, by the bone she had given him to hide him from the beasts. He still had the bone on a thin leather thong around his neck, seeing no need to be rid of it after he had gotten safely through.

She listened without comment as he wove the tale, and when he told of Richard’s capture by the Mord-Sith, she didn’t turn to show her face, but he saw the muscles in her shoulders tense for the briefest of moments. With no small amount of emphasis to make his point, he related how Darken Rahl had taken the night stone from Richard, the night stone she had given him to see him safely through the pass.

He scowled at her back as she picked a plate off the floor. “I was nearly killed by that stone. Darken Rahl used it to trap me in the underworld. I escaped by the thinnest of hairs. You almost got me killed, giving that thing to Richard.”

“Do not be a thickheaded fool,” she scoffed. “You be smart enough to save yourself. Had I not given the night stone to Richard, he would have died in the pass, and then Darken Rahl would have won, and right now would no doubt be torturing you. You would soon be dead. By giving the stone to Richard, I saved your life.”

He shook a leg bone of some sort at the glance she cast over her shoulder. “That thing was dangerous. You shouldn’t go handing out dangerous things as if they were a stick of candy. Not without warning people, anyway.” He had a right to be indignant. He had been the one sucked into the underworld by that wretched stone. The woman could at least pretend to be contrite.

Zedd went on with the story of how Richard had escaped, although he had a web around him hiding his identity, and how the quads had attacked Chase, Kahlan, and himself. He had to make an effort to control his voice at the telling of what had almost happened to Kahlan, and how she had called forth the Con Dar and killed their attackers. He finished with how Richard had tricked Darken Rahl into opening the wrong box. He told her how the Magic of Orden had taken Darken Rahl for his mistake. Zedd smiled to himself as he reached the end of his story, telling her that Richard had somehow gotten past Kahlan’s power, that they were free to love each other—he wasn’t about to tell her how, that was not for anyone to know—and they were happily together now.

He was pleased that he had managed to tell the story without having to delve too deeply into some of the more painful events. He didn’t want to have to revisit some of those hurts. She didn’t ask any questions, but came and put a hand on his shoulder, saying that she was relieved all of them had survived, and won.

Zedd was silent after the telling, at least as much as he wanted to tell, of the tale. He set to stacking the pile of loose bones into the corner where she said they belonged. By the way they were scattered about, the gripper must have sought refuge in them. A sorry mistake.

That people called Adie the bone woman was small wonder; the house had little else in it. Her life seemed devoted to bones. A sorceress dedicated to bones was a troubling concept. He saw little evidence of potions, powders, or the usual type of charms, any of the typical things he knew to expect from a woman of her talents. He knew what she was probing into, just not why.

Sorceresses usually confined their concerns to things living. She was a searcher into things dark and dangerous. Things dead. Unfortunately, that was what he was doing, too. If you wanted to know about fire, you had to study it, he guessed. Of course, it was a good way to get burned. He knew he didn’t like the analogy the moment it popped into his head.

He looked up from the bone pile as he placed the last of them. “If you don’t want grippers in your house, Adie, you should keep your door closed.”

His perfectly apt, scolding frown was wasted, as she didn’t turn from her task of stacking the firewood back in its bin at the side of the hearth. “The door be closed. And bolted,” she said in her dry rasp, in a tone seemingly meant to wither his unseen scowl. “This be the third time.”

Picking up a bone that had been hiding behind a stick of firewood, she straightened and carried it to him. “Before, the grippers never came near my house.” Her voice lowered as if in a threat to unseen ears. “I saw to that.” She handed over the thick, white rib bone, peering down at him as he squatted on the floor next to the bone pile. “Now, since winter, they come near. The bones no longer seem to keep them away. The reason be a mystery to me.”

Adie had lived in this pass a long time. No one knew as well as she its dangers, its quirks, its vagaries. None knew better than she what it took to be safe here, to live on the cusp between the world of the living and the world of the dead, at the edge of the underworld. Of course, the boundary was gone now. It should be safe here now.

He wondered what else was going on that she wasn’t telling him; sorceresses never told all they knew. What was she doing still living here with strange, and dangerous, things happening? Stubborn women, sorceresses, the lot of them.

Adie limped slightly as she walked across the room lit only by the fire. “Light the lamp?”

Following behind, Zedd swept a hand in the direction of the table. The lamp lit itself, adding a soft glow to that of the fire in the large hearth made of smooth river stones, and helped illuminate the dark walls of the room. Every wall held white bones. Shelves lined one wall, and were stuffed to overflowing with the skulls of dangerous beasts. Many of the bones had been made into ceremonial objects, some had been made into necklaces, decorated with feathers and beads, and some had been inscribed with ancient symbols. Some had spells drawn on the wall around them. It was the oddest collection he had ever seen.

Zedd pointed a bony finger down at her foot. “Why are you limping?”

Adie gave him a sidelong glance as she stopped and lifted a spoon from a hook set into the mortar at the side of the fireplace. “The new foot you grew me be too short.”

Zedd stood with one hand on a knobby hip, and the stick-like fingers of the other holding his smooth chin as he looked down at her foot. He hadn’t noticed it wasn’t long enough when he had grown it back; he had needed to leave soon after it was done. “Maybe I could grow the ankle a little longer,” he wondered aloud. He took his hand from his chin and flourished it in the air. “Make them even.”

Adie glared over her shoulder as she stirred the stew. “No, thank you.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you appreciate having them both even?”

“I appreciate you growing my foot back for me. Life be easier with two of them. I did not realize how much I hated that crutch. But the foot be fine the way it is.” She lifted the long-handled spoon to her lips, blowing on the hot stew.

“It would be easier if they were even.”

“I said no.” She tasted the stew.

“Bags, woman, why not?”

Adie tapped the spoon clean on the edge of the iron kettle and hung it back on its hook, then lifted a dented tin from the side of the mantel, unscrewing the lid. Her voice was quiet, her rasp softer. “I do not wish to revisit that pain. Had I known what it would be like, I would have chosen to live the rest of my life without the foot.” Reaching her hand into the tin, she took a three-finger-and-thumb pinch of five-spice and flung it into the stew.

Zedd tugged at his ear. Perhaps she was right. Growing the foot back for her had nearly killed her. He hadn’t expected what had happened, her reaction to his using that much magic on her. Still, he had been successful, and managed to draw away the pain of the memories, though he still didn’t know what they had been about. But he should have taken into account that she could have had memories that held that much pain.

He should have taken the Wizard’s Second Rule into account, but he had been intent on doing something good for her. That was the way it worked with the second rule; it was usually hard to tell if you were violating it.

“You know the price of magic, Adie, almost as well as a wizard. And besides, I made it up to you. For the pain, I mean.” He knew it wouldn’t take as much magic to make the ankle longer as it had to grow the foot back, but after what she had suffered, he could understand her reluctance. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe I have done enough.”

Her white eyes settled on him again. “Why be you here, wizard?”

He gave her an impish grin. “I wanted to see you. You are a hard woman to forget. And I wanted to tell you about Darken Rahl being defeated, by Richard. That we won.” He frowned at her stare. “Why do you think the grippers are coming here?”

She shook her head with a sigh. “You talk like a drunk man walks: in every direction but where he be headed.” She flicked a finger toward the table, indicating that she wanted him to get the bowls. “I already knew we won. The first day of winter has come and past. Had Rahl won, things wouldn’t be so peaceful as they are. Though I be pleased to see your bones again.”

Her voice lowered, became even more raspy. “Why be you here, wizard?”

He strode over to the table, glad to elude the scrutiny of those eyes for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you think the grippers are coming here?”

Her voice lowered into a deeper, harsher rasp, bordering on anger. “I think the grippers be here for the same reason you be here: to cause an old woman trouble.”

Zedd grinned as he returned with bowls. “My eyes don’t see an old woman. They see only a handsome woman.”

She regarded his grin with a helpless shake of her head. “I fear your tongue be more dangerous than a gripper.”

He handed her a bowl. “Have the grippers ever come here before?”

“No.” She turned and began spooning stew into the bowl. “When the boundary be in place, the grippers stayed in the pass, with other beasts. After the boundary went down, I not see them for a time, but when winter came, so did the grippers. That not be right. I think something be wrong.”

He exchanged the empty bowl for the full, holding it to his nose and inhaling the aroma. “Maybe when the boundary finally failed, there was no longer any hold over them, and they simply came out of the pass.”

“Maybe. When the boundary failed, most of the beasts went with it, back into the underworld. Some were freed of their bonds and escaped into the surrounding country. I never saw any grippers until the winter came, nearly a month ago. I fear something else happened, for them to be here.”

Zedd knew very well what had happened, but didn’t say so. Instead, he asked, “Adie, why don’t you leave? Come away with me. To Aydindril. It would be . . .”

“No!” Her mouth snapped closed. She seemed almost surprised by her own voice. She smoothed her robe with her hand, letting the anger leave her face and then took the spoon out of the hand with the bowl and returned to dishing out stew. “No. This be my home.”

Zedd watched silently as she worked over the kettle. When finished, she carried her bowl to the table, set it down, and retrieved a loaf of bread from over the counter, from a shelf behind a blue-and-white-striped curtain. She pointed with the bread to the other empty chair. Zedd set his bowl on the table and sat, hiking his robes up as he folded his legs underneath himself. Adie lowered herself into the chair opposite him and sliced off a chunk of bread, using the knifepoint to push it across the table before she looked up to meet his eyes.

“Please, Zedd, do not ask me to leave my home.”

“I am only worried for you, Adie.”

Adie dunked a chunk of bread in her stew. “That be a lie.”

He looked up from under his eyebrows as he picked up his bread. “It’s not a lie.”

She ate without lifting her head. “ ‘Only’ be a lie.”

Zedd went back to his stew and ate in earnest. “Umm. Thish ish womerful,” he mumbled around a hot chunk of meat. She nodded her thanks. He ate until his bowl was empty, then took it to the fireplace and filled it once more.

On his way back to the table, he swept his hand around at the room, pointing with his spoon. “You have a lovely home, Adie. Quite lovely.” He sat and picked up the bread she passed to him. He put his elbows on the table, his sleeves slipping up his forearms as he broke the bread in half. “But I don’t think you should be living here, all alone. Not with the grippers and all.” He gestured with the bread to the north. “Why don’t you come with me to Aydindril? It’s a lovely place, too. You would like it there. There’s plenty of room. Kahlan could see to it you have your choice of places to live. Why, you could even stay at the Keep, if you preferred.”

Her white eyes stayed on her meal. “No.”

“Why not? We could have a good time there. A sorceress could have a grand time in the Keep. There are books and . . .”

“I said no.”

He watched her as she went back to eating stew. He pushed his sleeves up farther and did the same. He couldn’t eat long. He set the spoon in the bowl and looked up from under his eyebrows.

“Adie, there is more to the story, more I haven’t told you.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you do not expect me to look surprised. I not be good at pretending.” She bent back over her bowl.

“Adie, the veil is torn.”

Her hand paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. She didn’t look up. “Baa. What do you know of the veil. You do not know what you speak of.” The spoon completed its journey.

“I know it’s torn.”

She scooped up the last piece of potato from her bowl. “You speak of things that are not possible, wizard. The veil not be torn.” She stood, picking up her empty bowl. “Be at ease, old man, if the veil be torn, we would have a lot more than grippers to be worried about. But we don’t.”

Zedd turned, putting a hand on the back of his chair, watching her limp toward the kettle hanging from the crane in the fireplace. “The Stone of Tears is in this world,” he said in a quiet voice.

Adie halted. Her bowl fell to the floor, clattering in the thick silence, and rolled away. Her hands were held out before her as if she still held it. Her back was stiff. “Do not say such a thing aloud,” she whispered, “unless you be certain beyond doubt. Unless you be certain on your honor as First Wizard. Unless you be willing to offer your soul to the Keeper if you be lying.”

Zedd’s fierce, hazel eyes watched her back. “I pledge my soul to the Keeper if I’m telling you a lie. May he take me this instant. The Stone of Tears is in this world. I have seen it.”

“Dear spirits, protect us,” she whispered weakly. Still, she did not move. “Tell me what fool thing you have done, wizard.”

“Adie, come and sit down. First, I want you to tell me what you are doing living here, in the pass, or what used to be the pass. What you have been doing living at the edge of the underworld, and why you won’t leave.”

She spun to face him, one hand gripping the skirt of her robe. “That be my business.”

With his hand on the chair back, Zedd pushed himself to his feet. “Adie, I must know. This is important. I must know what you have been doing, so that I may know if it can be a help.

“I know very well the pain you live with. I saw it, remember? I don’t know what caused it, but I know how deep it is. I would ask you to share the story with me. I ask you as a friend to confide in me. Please don’t make me ask as First Wizard.”

Her eyes rose to meet his at the last of what he said. The flash of anger faded and she nodded. “Very well. Perhaps I have kept it to myself too long. Perhaps it would be a relief to tell someone . . . a friend. Perhaps you will not want my help, after you hear. If you still do, I expect you to tell me all that has happened.” She thrust a finger in his direction. “All.”

Zedd gave her a small smile of encouragement. “Of course.”

She limped to her chair. Just as she sat down, the largest skull on the shelves suddenly thudded to the floor. Both stared at it. Zedd walked over and picked it up in both hands. His thin fingers stroked tapered, curved fangs as long as his hand. The skull was flat on the bottom; it shouldn’t have been able to roll off the shelf. He replaced it solidly as Adie watched.

“It seems,” she said in her rasp, “that the bones want to be on the floor lately. They keep falling down.”

Zedd returned to his chair after a final frown to the skull. “Tell me about the bones, why you have them, what you do with them; everything. Start at the beginning.”

“Everything.” She folded her arms across her lap, briefly looking as if she wanted to run for the door. “It be a painful story to tell.”

“Not a word of it will ever touch my lips, Adie.”