Stone of Tears

Chapter 61

Richard grabbed an arm of each boy. “Slow down,” he said in a low voice. “I told you, I have to go first.”

Kipp and Hersh sighed impatiently. Richard checked around the corner, peeking down the hall, and then pushed the two boys up against the wall. Frogs kicked in their pockets.

“This is serious. I picked you two because I know you’re the best. Now, you do as I told you, the way we planned it. Stay here, with your backs to this wall, and count to fifty. You don’t so much as peep around the corner until you get to fifty. I’m depending on you to do it right.”

They grinned. “We’re your men,” Kipp said. “We’ll get them out of there.”

Richard squatted and put a finger close to each face in turn. “This is serious business. This isn’t just some game. This time you could get in real trouble. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Kipp put his hands in his pockets, feeling the frogs. “You came to the right men. We can do it. We want to do it, Richard.”

They were excited because they had never made it past the guards before. This was uncharted territory for their specialty. Richard knew they didn’t appreciate the danger involved, and he hated to have to use them in this manner, but it was the only thing he could think of.

“All right then, start counting.”

Richard rounded the corner and swept down the hall, his mriswith cape billowing open. When he reached the proper door, he stood against the white marble wall opposite the double doors and drew the hood up. He pulled the cape closed and concentrated on the marble behind him.

He stood motionless. The boys burst around the corner, yelling and screaming at the top of their lungs as they ran down the hall. They stopped in front of the double doors, looking both ways. They didn’t see him standing behind them, and he knew they were wondering where he was hiding.

As they had been instructed, they threw the doors open and, giggling with excitement, began pulling frogs from their pockets and pitching them into the room. The two Sisters were frozen in surprise for only an instant. Richard watched as both came flying around their desks, one snatching up a rod. The boys heaved their last frogs with a squeal and raced away in opposite directions, shouting taunts of “Can’t catch us! Can’t catch us!”

Sisters Ulicia and Finella slid to a stop on the polished marble floor outside the doors. They almost slid right into him, and were only inches away. Richard held his breath.

The Sisters saw the boys make the turns at opposite ends of the hall. They threw their hands out. Pictures crashed to the floor as flashes of shimmering light knocked them from the walls at the end, but they missed the boys. Growling in anger, the Sisters parted, one dashing after each boy.

Richard waited until they had turned the corner, and then he stepped away from the wall, letting his concentration relax, letting the cape return to black. He wondered what it would look like if someone were to see it happen, to see a person seem to materialize out of the air.

The outer room was empty. Before the door between the desks, the air seemed to sparkle and hum. Experimentally, Richard put his hand into it. The air felt thick, but it seemed to have no harmful effect. He pressed himself through the sparkles and went through the door beyond.

The room inside, not quite as large as his own outer room, was dimly lit, and paneled in rich, dark wood. In the center sat a heavy walnut table piled with papers and books, and three candles. Down the length to each side were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed full of disheveled books, and a few other odd objects.

An old woman, one of the cleaning staff, in a heavy, dark gray work dress, was standing on a stool, dusting a top bookshelf. She turned with surprise as he came to a halt. She glanced to the door, and then back to him.

“How did you . . .”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just came to see the Prelate. Is she about?”

The woman squatted, her foot searching for the floor. Richard gave her his hand. She smiled her appreciation as she brushed a wisp of graying hair back from her face. Most of it was drawn into a loose knot at the back of her head. Once she was standing on the floor, the top of her head only came up to the lower tip of his breastbone. Her body was on the wide side, as if she had once been taller, and a giant had put his hand on the top of her head and squashed her down a good foot.

She looked up, giving him a curious frown. “Did Sisters Ulicia and Finella let you come in?”

“No,” Richard said as he looked about the comfortably cluttered room. “They stepped out.”

“But they would have left a shield . . .”

“Ma’am, I must speak to the Prelate.” Across the room, Richard saw doors to a courtyard standing open. “Is she about?”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked in a quiet, gentle voice.

“No,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to get one for days. Those two wouldn’t cooperate, so I made my own appointment.”

She put a finger to her lower lip. “I see. But you must have an appointment. Those are the rules. I’m sorry.”

Richard started for the open doors. He was getting impatient, but kept his voice calm, as he didn’t want to frighten the old maidservant. “Look, ma’am, I must see the Prelate, or we are all going to have an appointment with the Keeper himself.”

Her eyebrows lifted in wonder. “Reeeeally.” She clicked her tongue. “The Keeper, is it. My, my, my.”

Richard stopped suddenly. He winced and let out a groan. He turned on his heel.

“You’re the Prelate, aren’t you?”

An impish grin came to her face, her eyes twinkling with it. “Yes, Richard, I guess I am.”

“You know who I am?”

She chuckled. “Oh, yes, I know.”

Richard sighed. “So you’re the one who runs this place?”

She laughed louder. “As I hear it told, you seem to be running it now. Been here hardly a month, and you have half the palace wound around your will. I’ve been thinking about asking for an appointment to see you.”

Richard gave her a friendly scowl. “I would have granted it.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She patted his arm. “From now on, you may come to see me whenever you wish.”

“Then why wouldn’t you let me in before?”

She folded her hands together beneath her ample, rounded breasts. “A test, my boy. A test.” She smiled up at him. “I am impressed. I expected it to take you another six or eight months yet.”

The door burst open. Richard was jerked from his feet, yanked back by his collar, and smacked up against the wall. He was stuck tight, the wind knocked from his lungs. Two irate Sisters stood just inside the doorway with their fists on their hips.

“Now, now,” the Prelate said, “Stop that, you two. Let the boy down.”

Richard thumped to the ground, glaring at the two Sisters. “I am the one who talked those two boys into doing as they did. What they did is my fault. If there is any revenge, it had better be against me, and not them. If you harm them, you will answer to me.”

One of the Sisters took a step toward him. “Their punishment has already been ordered. This time, for once, they will learn a lesson.” She angrily pointed a stout rod at him. “You are going to have your own punishment to worry about.”

“Yes, Sister Ulicia,” the Prelate said, “I think punishment is in order.” The Sister gave Richard a self-satisfied smile. “Yours,” the Prelate said.

Sister Ulicia gaped. “Prelate Annalina?”

“Did I not give you specific instructions that Richard was not to be allowed in here?”

The two Sisters straightened. “Yes, Prelate Annalina.”

“And here he is. Standing in my office.”

Sister Ulicia pointed at the door. “But . . . we left a shield! He could not . . .”

“Oh? Could not?” The Sister’s hand dropped at seeing the Prelate’s wrinkled brow. “Seems I see him standing here. Do I not, Sisters?”

“Yes, Prelate Annalina,” the two said as one.

“And so now your idea is to reward your own failure by going back to your posts, as if nothing had happened, and punish their success?” The Prelate clicked her tongue. “You two will take the punishment you have ordered for the two boys.”

The Sisters blanched. “But Prelate . . .” the second whispered. “You can’t have that done to a Sister.”

“Really, Sister Finella? What did you order for the boys?”

“To have their bottoms strapped . . . publicly . . . tomorrow morning, after breakfast.”

“That sounds fair. You two will take their place.”

“But Prelate,” Sister Ulicia whispered in astonishment. “We are Sisters of the Light. That would be humiliating.”

“Learning humility never harmed anyone. We are all humble before the Creator. For your failure, you will be strapped in their place.”

Sister Ulicia stiffened. “And if we fail to submit, Prelate Annalina?”

The Prelate smiled. “Then you would be telling me that you no longer deserve to be trusted, and further, that you no longer wish to be Sisters of the Light.”

They both bowed. When the door closed behind them, Richard lifted an eyebrow to the Prelate.

“I hope never to get on your wrong side, Prelate Annalina.”

She chuckled. “Please, call me Ann. That is what my old acquaintances call me.”

“I’d be honored to call you Ann, Prelate, but I’m not an old acquaintance.”

“You think not?” She smiled. “My, what a knowledgeable boy. Well, no matter. Call me Ann, anyway. Do you know why I punished them? Because you took responsibility for your actions. They did not recognize the importance of that. You are learning to be a wizard.”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew it was dangerous to cross those two, did you not?” Richard nodded. “Yet you used those boys, knowing that it was a possibility they could be hurt.”

“Yes, but I had to do it. It’s that important, and it was the only thing I could think of.”

“The burden of a wizard. That’s what it is called. Using people. A wise wizard understands that he cannot do everything himself, and that if the matter is important enough, he must use other people to accomplish what must be done. Even if it is to cost those other people their lives. It’s a rare ability, and vital to being a good wizard. Perhaps, to being a Prelate, too.”

“Ann, it’s urgent. I must speak with you.”

“Urgent, is it? Well, then, why don’t we go for a walk in my garden, and we can talk about this urgent business.”

She placed her arm in his, and walked him through the open doorway. Outside, in the moonlight, was a grand, expansive courtyard, with trees, paths, flower beds, wild areas, and a lovely pond. The beauty of the garden didn’t register in Richard’s mind. He had hardly been able to eat or sleep since he had had his talk with Warren. If the Keeper escaped, he would have everyone, including Kahlan. Richard had to do something.

“Ann, there is great trouble in the world. I need your help. I need this collar off so I may go help.”

“That’s what I am here for, Richard. To help. What is the trouble?”

“The Keeper . . .”

“The Nameless One,” she corrected.

“What difference does it make?”

“Calling him by his name calls his attention.”

“Ann, it’s just a word. It’s the meaning of the word that matters, not an arrangement of letters. Do you think that when you call the Keeper the Nameless One, instead, that he would be fooled into thinking you weren’t speaking of him? It’s a mistake to assume your enemies are ignorant, and you are clever.”

A hearty laugh rose from in her chest. “I have been waiting for a very long time for someone to figure that out.”

She paused with him at the edge of the pond, and he asked, “What is ‘the pebble in the pond’?”

She gazed out over the water. “You are one, Richard.”

“You mean there are more than one?”

A small stone floated through the air, up into her hand.

“Everyone has an effect on others. Some people inspire others to do great things. Some take people into crime with them. Those with the gift affect those around them even more. The stronger the Han, the stronger the effect.”

“What does that have to do with me? What does that have to do with a pebble in a pond?”

“You see all the duck weed floating on the surface? Say that’s the other people, the world of life, and this pebble is you.” She tossed the stone into the pond. “See what happens? The ripples caused by you affect everyone else. Without you, all those ripples would not have happened.”

“So they float up and down, on the ripples. But the stone sank.”

She gave him a humorless grin. “Don’t ever forget that.”

The answer gave him pause. “I think you invest too much faith in me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Perhaps more than you think, child. And what is it that concerns you about the Keeper?”

“Something must be done. He’s about to escape. One of the boxes of Orden has been opened, the gateway is open. The Stone of Tears is in this world. I need to do something.”

“Ahh.” She smiled as she drifted to a stop. “So you, who was just thrown up against a wall by the Han of a mere Sister, wants to go off and battle the Keeper himself?”

“But things have happened. Something must be done.”

“I see you have been talking to Warren. A very bright young man, Warren. He is still young, though. Sometimes he needs direction. Guidance.” She tipped a branch closer. “He studies hard, and loves those books. I think he must know every smudge on them.”

She was inspecting a flower on the branch. As he watched her in the moonlight, he decided he might have thought himself more clever than he was. Warren, too.

“So, what about the Keeper? What about the Stone of Tears?”

She put her arm back through his and walked him on. “If the gateway is open and the Stone of Tears is in this world, Richard, why does the Keeper not have us? Hmm?”

“Maybe he’s about to swallow us all at any moment.”

“Ahh. So you think that maybe he is busy with his dinner, and when he is finished, and wipes his chin clean, he will get around to swallowing the world of the living, so you want to rush off and close the gateway before he picks his napkin from his lap? Is this the way you think the worlds beyond ours work? In the same terms as this world?”

Richard nervously raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know how it all works, but Warren said . . .”

“Warren does not know everything. He is but a student. He has a talent for the prophecies, but he has much to learn.

“Do you know why we keep the prophecies down in the vaults, and restrict who may read them? For the very reason we are having this discussion. Because prophecy is dangerous to the untrained mind, and sometimes even to the trained mind. There is more to things than you see, or the Keeper would have us already.”

“Are you saying we’re not in danger?”

She smiled a sly smile. “We are always in danger, Richard. As long as there is a world of the living, there will be danger. All life is mortal.”

She patted his arm again. “You are an important person, a person in prophecy, but if you go off foolishly, you can cause more harm than good. The Stone of Tears being in this world cannot, in itself, allow the Keeper to escape through the gateway. The Stone is a means to that end.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said as they walked on.

She glanced up. “How is your mother doing?”

Richard looked off into the darkness. “She died when I was young. In a fire.”

“I’m sorry, Richard. And your father?”

“Which one,” he muttered.

“Your stepfather, George.”

Richard cleared his throat. “He was killed by Darken Rahl.” He darted her a sidelong glance. “How do you know my stepfather?”

She gave him one of those timeless looks that he had seen from others before; from Adie, Shota, Sister Verna, Du Chaillu, and Kahlan. “I’m sorry, Richard. I didn’t know he had died. George Cypher was quite a man.”

He came to a stop, his flesh atingle. “You,” he whispered. “You are how my father got that book.” He left the statement vague enough that she would have to fill in the details to confirm it.

A little of her smile came back. “Afraid to say it out loud? The Book of Counted Shadows, that is the book you are speaking of. She gestured to a stone bench. “Sit down, Richard, before you fall down.”

Richard slumped to the bench. He looked up as she stood before him. “You? You gave that book to my father?”

“Actually, I helped him get it. You see, Richard, as I told you, you and I are old acquaintances. Of course, the last time I saw you, you were bawling your head off. Only a few months old, you were.”

She smiled distantly. “If your mother could see you now. She was bursting with pride over you. She said your were the blessing to balance the curse. You see, Richard, balance is what the world of the living is all about. You are a child of balance. I have much invested in you.”

Richard’s tongue seemed stuck to the top of his mouth. “Why?”

“Because you are a pebble in the pond.” Her eyes seemed to go out of focus. “Over three thousand years ago, wizards had Subtractive Magic. None since has been born with it. We have been hoping, but none, until now, has come into this life. A few have had the calling, but not the gift of it. You have the gift for both Additive and Subtractive Magic.”

Richard shot to his feet. “What! Are you mad!”

“Sit down, Richard.”

The quiet power of her voice, her penetrating gaze, her presence, made him sink to the bench. For some reason, she seemed suddenly very big to him. She was the same size as before, but it felt as if she towered over him. Her voice became imposing, too.

“Now, you listen to me. You are causing me a great deal of trouble. You are like a bull that keeps knocking down fences and trampling the crops. Too much is at stake to have you acting without knowing what you are doing. I know you think you are doing right, but so does the bull. Your problem is lack of knowledge. I intend to give you an education.

“Though you will not believe some of what I have to tell you, you had better come to accept it, or you will be in that collar a good long time, because it cannot come off until you accept the truth.”

“I was told the Sisters took the collar off.”

The look in her eyes made him wish he had kept his mouth closed, or that he could trade places with the two Sisters who were to take a public strapping.

“Only when you accept yourself, accept your ability, your true power, will it come off. You put the Rada’Han around your own neck. We don’t have the power to take it off until you can help us, with your own power. The only way you can do that is to learn, and to accept who you are.

“Now, first of all, you must understand about the Keeper, and the Creator, and the nature of this world. Your problem, the problem most people have, the problem Warren has, is that you try to understand the worlds beyond in terms of this world.

“Good and evil, the Creator and the Keeper, are chaos divided into two opposing forces. Although each abhors the other, they are interdependent, and cannot exist one without the other. They define each other. The struggle, our struggle in this world, is maintaining the balance.”

Although Richard kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t keep the frown from his face.

“From the Creator springs life, the soul of life. It blooms into this world. Without the Keeper, without death, there can be no life. Without death, life would be open-ended.

“Can you even imagine a world in which no one ever died? Where every child born lives? Forever? Where every plant that sprouts flourishes? Where every tree lives forever, and every seedling sprouts and grows to a tree?

“What would happen? How could we eat, if we could kill no animal, or harvest no crop, if it all lived forever and could not die? A never-ending life of gnawing, ravenous hunger? The world of the living would be consumed by chaos, and destroy itself forever.

“Death, the underworld as some call it, is eternal. You think of it in terms of this life. In eternity, time has no meaning, no dimension. To the Keeper, a second, or a year, has no meaning.

“It is through those in this world, who serve him, that the Keeper is given the dimension of time. It is their urgency that drives his struggle, because they understand time. He needs the living if he is to succeed. His promises to those who help him are seductive, and they hunger for his triumph.”

“So what part do the living play in this?”

“We divide and define the chaos with order, and keep it separated: light and dark; love and hate; good and evil. We are the balance.

“We are like the duck weed floating on the surface of the pond. The air above is the Creator, the depths below, the Keeper. The souls of the living, which have come down from the Creator, blossom to life in this place, and when they die, they descend to the world of the dead.

“But that does not mean it is evil. Evil is a judgment we put on it. The Keeper is like the muck at the bottom of the pond. Spirits of the dead reside anywhere from the depths of that chaos and hate, near the Keeper, to near the living, near the light of the Creator. It is the hope of the living to spend eternity in the warmth of that light.

“It is we, the living, who separate, and define the worlds to each side of life. Magic is the element that gives this world the power to do that. Magic is the balance point.

“The Keeper would like to swallow the world of the living, to triumph. To do that, he must eliminate magic. But at the same time, in order to triumph, he must use magic to tip the balance.”

Richard struggled to keep his head above the murky waters of confusion. “And wizards have the power to influence this balance?”

She was still leaning over him. She held up a finger. “Yes. You have both sides of the magic.” Her smile evaporated in a way that took his breath with it. “That makes you an extremely dangerous person, Richard.

“You have both sides of the gift; you have the power to mend, or destroy the veil. There are good people who, if they knew of your power, would kill you in a twinkling for fear you might destroy us all, if not deliberately, by accident.”

“And you? Are you one of those?”

“If I were, I would not have helped your father get the Book of Counted Shadows. Your involvement stopped the immediate threat, but it also fed the gateway magic, and chances greater danger in the future. It was a risk I had to take, because the consequences of not doing so would have been disaster. But if what has happened is not fixed, it will be greater disaster in the end.”

“What is the veil? Where is it?”

She reached out and tapped his forehead. “The veil is within those of us with magic. We are its custodians. That is why balance means so much to those with the gift. When the veil is torn, the balance is tipped. The further it tips, the more the veil tears.

“The Creator rules his domain, the Keeper, his. The Keeper needs the Creator to feed him life, the Creator needs the Keeper to allow it to be renewed. The veil keeps the balance.”

Her face was grim. “This view would be considered blasphemy by many. They see the Keeper only as evil that must be destroyed. But to do so would ultimately accomplish the opposite—all life being swept away like a sandbar in a river flood.”

“Just for the sake of argument, what if I did have both kinds of magic? What is my power for?”

“Most wizards have a talent that leans in a particular direction. Some are healers, some make things of magic, more rare are prophets. The most rare are war wizards. There has not been one born in over three thousand years. Until you.”

Richard wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“War wizard has two meanings which balance each other, as in all things magic. The first meaning is that they can tear the veil, bring destruction and death—war. And the second is that they have the magic needed to fight against the powers of the Keeper. Being a war wizard does not mean you are evil, Richard. Many who fight do so to protect those who are defenseless. It means you have the capacity to care enough to fight, to defend the innocent.”

“ ‘Lest he who’s born true can fight for life’s bond. And that one is marked; he’s the pebble in the pond.’ ” Richard quoted.

She lifted an eyebrow. “For one who professes to scoff at prophecy, you seem to know some of the more pivotal passages. If I’m not entirely addled, I expect you have been marked.”

Richard could feel the scar on his chest as he nodded. “Are you saying that my life is already marked out? That I’m just meant to live it out, as it has been preordained?”

“No, Richard. Life is not predetermined. The prophecies mean only that you have potential. You have the ability to influence events. That’s why it is so important for you to learn.

“Of most importance is that you learn to accept yourself. If you do not do this, you will harm the most vital part of yourself: your free will. If you act without understanding, you could cast yourself into the chaos.

“I let you live when you were born because you have the potential for doing good. Within you is the hope of life. But until you truly accept both sides of your magic, you are a danger to every living thing.”

Richard desperately wanted to change the subject. He felt as if the world were crushing him. “What is the Stone of Tears?”

She gave a little shrug. “In the world of the dead, it exists as a force. In this world, it exists as an object with power, representing that force.

“The Stone of Tears is like a weight that holds the Keeper at the infinite end of his world, where his influence here is diminished to the point of balance.”

“Then if it’s here, off him, he is freed from his prison.”

“If that were true, we would all be dead. Hmm?” She lifted a questioning eyebrow, but Richard didn’t say anything. “It’s one of the seals that locks the Keeper beyond. There are others, that still hold. Magic helps hold him back, for now.

“The Stone of Tears has the power, though, to destroy the balance, to tear the veil and free the Keeper, if it is used in this world, by such as you, in the wrong way. You see, the Stone has the power to banish any soul to the infinite depths of the underworld. But if it were used in that way, through hate, through selfishness, it would feed power to that side, and destroy the veil.

“The veil can only be restored by one with the gift for both sides of the magic. The Stone must be put back where it belongs.

“We must struggle to keep the other seals intact until the day when one such as you can restore this lock while there is still time. Meanwhile, the Keeper gains strength here. His minions struggle to break the other seals. There are other ways to free the Keeper.”

“Ann . . . are you sure about me? Maybe . . .”

“You proved it just tonight, by walking through that shield. Our shields are made of Additive Magic. The only way for you to penetrate it was for your Han to use Subtractive.”

“Maybe my Han, my Additive Magic, is just stronger.”

“When you came through the Valley of the Lost, you would have been drawn to the towers. To both towers. Am I right?”

“I could have just come across them by accident.”

She let out a tired sigh. “The towers were created by wizards who had both kinds of power. In the white tower, there is white sand. Sorcerer’s sand. I doubt you would have taken any.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. And what is sorcerer’s sand?”

“Sorcerer’s sand is extremely valuable, nearly priceless. It is only gathered by chance happenings across the tower. Sorcerer’s sand is the crystallized bones of the wizards who gave their life into the towers. It’s a sort of distilled magic. It gives power to spells drawn with it—good, and evil. The proper spell drawn in white sorcerer’s sand can invoke the Keeper.

“You took, instead, some of the black sand, did you not?”

“Well, yes. I just wanted a little bit, that’s all.”

She nodded. “Just a little bit. Richard, no wizard since the towers were built has been able to gather any black sorcerer’s sand. It cannot be taken from a tower by any but those with Subtractive Magic. Guard that black sand with your life. It’s more valuable than you can imagine.”

“Why? What will it do?”

“Black sorcerer’s sand is the counter to the white. They nullify each other. The black, even one grain of it, will contaminate a spell drawn to invoke the Keeper. It will destroy the spell. A spoonful of it is a weapon worth kingdoms.”

“Still,” he said, “it could just be that—”

“The last wizards born with both kinds of magic invested the Palace of the Prophets with their magic. The prophets of that time knew one would be born again with both sides of the magic, a war wizard, and so they created, too, the Hagen Woods, and the mriswith. One born with the Subtractive would be drawn to that place. Drawn to do battle there.

“The collar keeps the Additive gift from killing you. The Hagen Woods provide an outlet for the other side of your power. It is something the Sisters cannot provide.”

“But I used the Sword of Truth.” His voice sounded to him like a plea into a gale. “It was the sword.”

“The Sword of Truth was also created by wizards with the gift for both sides of the magic. Only one born the same could bring out the full range of its magic. Only you can use the sword to its full potential. And you have not done so yet.

“It is an aid to you, but even so, you do not need it to kill the mriswith. Your gift is enough. If you do not believe me, leave your sword, and go into the Hagen Woods with just your knife. You will still kill the mriswith.”

“Others have used this blade. They didn’t even have the gift, much less Subtractive Magic.”

“They were not truly using the sword’s magic. The blade was made for you. It’s an aid, much as prophecy is an aid, much as the mriswith are an aid, sent down through time.”

“I don’t think I could be one of these war wizards.”

“Do you eat meat?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You are a child of balance. Wizards must balance themselves, the things they do, their power. War wizards rarely eat meat. Their abstinence is a balance for the killing they sometimes must do.”

“I’m sorry, Ann, but I just can’t believe I have Subtractive Magic.”

“That’s why you are such a danger. Every time you encounter magic, your Han learns more about how to protect you, to serve you, but you are not aware that it is learning. The Rada’Han helps it grow, though you’re not aware of the process.

“You do things without knowing the importance, or the reason, like when you were drawn to the black sorcerer’s sand and took it, or when you took the round skrin bone from Adie.”

Richard’s brow pulled together. “You know Adie, too?”

“Yes, she helped your father and me get through the pass, so we could retrieve the Book of Counted Shadows.”

“What round bone are you talking about?”

Richard saw the slightest twitch of alarm in her eyes.

“Adie had a round bone, carved all over with beasts. It’s an object of great power. Your Subtractive Magic would have drawn you to it.”

Richard remembered seeing the round bone on a high shelf. “I saw such a thing at her house, but I didn’t take it. I wouldn’t take something that didn’t belong to me. Maybe that means I don’t really have Subtractive Magic.”

She straightened. “No, you noticed it. The fact that you didn’t take it means only that since you did not have the Rada’Han on yet, your power had not developed enough to draw you to the skrin bone, the way it drew you to the black sand.”

Richard hesitated. “Is this some kind of problem?”

She smiled. It looked forced to him. “No. Adie would protect that bone with her life. She knows how important it is. You can recover it in the future.”

“What does it do?”

“It helps protect the veil. When used by a war wizard, like you, with both powers, it invokes the skrin. The skrin are a force that helps keep the worlds separated. You might say they are guardians of the boundary between worlds.”

“What if the wrong person got their hands on it? A person wishing to help the Keeper?”

She pulled on his shirt, urging him up. “You worry too much, Richard. I have work to do. You must leave me to it, now. Do your best, child, and study. Learn to touch your Han, to get control of it. You must learn if you are to be of any help to the Creator.”

Richard turned back to her. She was staring off.

“Ann, why does the Keeper want the world of the living? What will it gain him? What is the purpose?”

Her answer came in a soft, distant voice. “Death is the antithesis of life. The Keeper exists to consume the living. His hatred of life has no bounds. His hatred is as eternal as his prison of death.”