Stone of Tears

Chapter 63

Richard looked up from where he sat on the floor to see Warren in the doorway. He hadn’t heard the knock. When he said nothing, Warren rushed over and squatted down beside him.

“Listen, Richard, something you said made me think. You said that you were going to wed the Mother Confessor.”

Richard’s mind came out of the daze and his eyes suddenly came up. “The prophecy is about her, isn’t it. The prophecy you said would come on winter solstice.”

“I think it might be. But I don’t know enough about her, about Confessors, to tell. Does the Mother Confessor wear white?”

“Yes. The Confessors are born to find the truth. She is the last one.”

“Richard, I think that is good news. I think she is to find happiness, and bring it to her people, on winter solstice.”

Richard remembered the vision he had had in the Tower of Perdition. He remembered the horror of what he had seen. The words Kahlan had spoken were burned into his memory. He quoted it to Warren.

“Of all there were, but a single one born of the magic to bring forth truth will remain alive when the shadow’s threat is lifted. Therefore comes the greater darkness of the dead. For there to be a chance at life’s bond, this one in white must be offered to her people, to bring their joy and good cheer.”

“Yes! That’s it! I believe that the ‘greater darkness’ means both the Keeper, and winter solstice. I think that means . . . Richard, where did you read that prophecy?”

“I didn’t read it. It was brought to me in a vision of her.”

Warren’s eyes grew big, the way they tended to do when he was astonished. “You had a vision of prophecy?”

“Yes, she brought me the words, and also brought a vision of what it means.”

“What does it mean?”

Richard brushed at his pant leg. “I can’t tell you. She said that I could speak the words, but not of the vision. I’m sorry, Warren, but I dare not violate that warning without knowing the consequences. But I can tell you that the results of this prophecy coming true would not be joyful for her, or for me.”

Warren considered a moment. “Yes. You are right.” He looked over out of the corner of his eye. “Richard, there is something about prophecy I think I should tell you. Hardly anyone knows this, but the words don’t always reflect the true intent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a few times when I have read prophecies, I’ve had a vision. The vision turns out to be true, and so does the prophecy, but not in the way you would think from reading it. I believe that the true way prophecy is meant to be understood is through the gift, through the visions.”

“Do the Sisters know this?”

“No. I think this is what it means to be a prophet. Richard, if you had this vision, and heard the words, and saw the meaning, maybe that means you are a prophet.”

“According to the Prelate, I have a different talent. If she is right, then having the vision might just be part of my ability for what I truly am.”

“Which is?”

“The Prelate said I’m a war wizard.”

His eyes widened again. “Richard, war wizards have the gift for both Magics. None with the gift for Subtractive, too, has been born in . . . in thousands of years. Maybe the Prelate is wrong.”

“I hope she is, but it would explain some things. From what a friend of mine told me, Additive Magic is using what is, adding to it, multiplying it, altering it; the doing of things. Subtractive Magic is the counter, the undoing of things.

“All the shields are put up by the Sisters. They have only Additive. Even those with the gift cannot easily go through them, or break them, because they also have only Additive. Power against power. But somehow I’m able to walk right through the shields around here without even trying.

“Subtractive Magic would explain that. Subtractive would counter the Additive of the shields; undo it.”

“But you said you tried to go through the barrier that keeps us from leaving. That’s a shield, too. Why can’t you go through that shield, then, if you really have the Subtractive?”

Richard lifted an eyebrow and leaned in. “Warren, who put those shields in place?”

“Well, the ones who placed the rest of the magic of the palace, the wizards of old . . .”

“Who you said had Subtractive Magic. That shield is the only one placed by them. It’s the only one I can’t go through. It’s the only one my Subtractive Magic, if I truly have it, wouldn’t counter. See what I mean?”

Warren sat back on his heels. “Yes . . .” He rubbed his chin as he thought. “Well, that would make sense. It might fit with some of the prophecies about you. If you really are a war wizard, and are the one born true.”

“And do these prophecies say I will prevail?”

Warren hesitated. He glanced over at the Sword of Truth lying on the floor nearby. “If I said ‘white blade,’ would that mean anything to you?”

Richard let out a heavy breath at the memory. “I can turn the blade of my sword white, through magic.”

Warren wiped his hand over his face. “Then I think we might be in trouble. There is a prophecy that says, ‘Should the forces of forfeit be loosed, the world will be shadowed yet by darker lust through what has been rent. Salvations hope, then, will be as slim as the white blade of the one born true.’ ”

Through what has been rent. “The open gateway,” Richard said. “That would make ‘the darker lust’ be the Keeper.”

“Warren, I have to do something about the prophecy. The one about the one in white. It’s important. Do you have any ideas?”

Warren watched him, as if trying to decide something. “I do. I don’t know if it will help.” He put weight on his hands as he rubbed them on his thighs. “They have a prophet here, at the palace. I’ve never seen him. I want to, but they won’t let me. They say it’s too dangerous for me to talk to him until I learn more. They promised that when I learn enough, they will let me talk with him.”

“Here in the palace? Where?”

Warren pulled a fold of his robes from under his knees. “I don’t know. It would have to be one of the restricted areas, but I don’t know which one, and I don’t know how we can find out.”

Richard stood. “I do.”

Richard knew he had gone to the right guard when Swordsman Kevin Andellmere turned white as a spirit at the mention of the Prophet. He was reluctant, feigning ignorance at first, but when Richard gently reminded him of all the favors, Kevin whispered the location.

The compound Kevin had divulged was one of the most heavily guarded. Richard knew where all the guards were stationed because he had gathered white roses there, and had been up on the wall, to “look out at the sea.” He also knew all the guards. They were frequent visitors to the prostitutes he provided.

He didn’t slow at the outer gate, but simply gave a nod to the wink the guards gave him. The guards at the rampart were considerably more reticent, stammering and holding out a hand to halt him. He shook the hand, pretending that he thought that was what was meant by it. They finally sighed and resumed their post as he marched away, his mriswith cape billowing open.

At the end of the rampart was a small colonnade, and at the end of that, winding stairs that led down to the Prophet’s quarters. The guards at the door he wanted were the two he had had trouble winning over at first, and the first to receive his gift of female company. They stiffened when they saw him.

Richard casually made for the door between them. “Walsh, Bollesdun, how you doing?”

They crossed their pikes over the door. “Richard, what are you doing down here? The roses grow up top.”

“Look, Walsh, I have to go see the Prophet.”

“Richard, don’t put us in this spot. You know we can’t let you in. The Sisters would skin us alive.”

Richard shrugged. “I won’t tell them you let me in. I’ll say I tricked you. If anyone finds out, which they won’t, just tell them I snuck by, and you didn’t know until I was on my way out. I’ll back your story.”

“Richard, you’re really . . .”

“Have I ever done anything to cause trouble? Have I ever done anything but help all you men? I buy you drinks, I loan you money when you need it, I let you have free access to the girls, and it never costs you a copper. Have I ever asked for anything in return?”

Richard had his hand on the hilt of the sword. One way, or another, he was going through that door.

Walsh pushed a stone chip with his boot. With a heavy sigh, first one, and then the other, pulled their pikes up. “Bollesdun, go make your rounds. I’m going to the privy for a sit.”

Richard took his hand from his sword and gave the man a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Walsh. I appreciate it.”

Halfway down the inner hall, Richard felt layers of resistance, shields, like the ones that were outside the Prelate’s door, but they only slowed him a bit. The room inside was as spacious as his own, but perhaps more elegantly appointed. One wall held large tapestries, and another expansive bookshelves. Most of the books, though, seemed to be scattered about the room, on chairs and couches and covering the blue-and-yellow carpets on the floor.

Richard could see the back of a man in the chair beside the cold hearth.

“You must tell me how you do that,” the man said in a deep, powerful voice. “I would be most interested in learning the trick.”

“Do what?” Richard asked.

“Walk through shields as if they weren’t there. Burns the flesh right off me if I try.”

“If I ever figure it out myself, I’ll let you know. My name is Richard. If you’re not busy, I would like to speak with you.”

“Busy!” The man’s shoulders shook with his hearty laugh. When he stood, Richard was a little surprised at how big he was. His long white hair had made Richard think he might be old and shriveled. Old, he was, shriveled he was not. He looked strong and full of vitality. His smile was welcoming and threatening at the same time. He wore a Rada’Han, the same as Richard.

“My name is Nathan, Richard. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I didn’t expect you would find your way in alone.”

“I wanted to come alone so we could talk freely.”

“And do you know that I am a prophet?”

“I didn’t come here to learn to bake bread.”

Nathan’s smile widened, but he didn’t laugh. His brows pulled together like a hawk’s. His voice took on a hiss. “Would you like me to tell you of your death, Richard? How you are to die?”

Richard flopped down on the couch and plunked his feet up on a table. He returned the hawklike glare and threatening smile in kind. “Sure. I’d love to hear all about it. And then when you’re done, I will tell you how you are to die.”

Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “And are you a prophet?”

“Enough of one to tell you how you are to die.”

The frown turned curious. “Really. Tell me then.”

Richard took a pear from a bowl on the table, polished it on his pant leg, and took a bite. He spoke as he chewed. “You are going to die right here, in these rooms, of old age, without ever seeing the outside world again.”

The creases in Nathan’s face deepened as his expression sagged. “Seems you are a prophet, my boy.”

“Unless you help me. Maybe if you help me, I’ll be able to come back here and help you get out, too.”

“And what is it you want?”

“I want this collar off.”

A sly grin spread on Nathan’s face. “Seems we share a common interest, Richard.”

“But the Sisters say I will die without it.”

The sly grin widened. “They demand truthfulness from others, but rarely inconvenience themselves with it. The Sisters have their own agenda, Richard. There is more than one path through the woods.”

“The Sisters say I must learn to use my Han, in order to get it off. They don’t seem to be helping much in that.”

“It would be easier to teach a stump to sing than for a mere Sister to teach you to use your Han. You have Subtractive Magic. They can’t help you.”

“Can you help me, Nathan?”

“Perhaps.” Nathan sat down in his chair, leaning forward intently. “Tell me, Richard, have you ever read The Adventures of Bonnie Day?”

“Read it? It’s my favorite book. I read it until my eyes nearly wore the words off the pages. I’d love to meet the person who wrote it, and tell him how much I liked the book.”

A broad, childlike grin stole onto Nathan’s face. “You just have, my boy. You just have.”

Richard came forward from the back of the couch. “You! You wrote The Adventures of Bonnie Day?”

Nathan quoted a few passages, to prove his intimate knowledge. “I gave the book to your father, to give to you when you were old enough to read. You were just born, at the time.”

“You were there with the Prelate? She didn’t tell me that.”

“I doubt the truth occurred to her. You see, Ann doesn’t have the power to get into the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril. I helped George get in, so he could get the Book of Counted Shadows. They have some very interesting books of prophecy there.”

Richard stared in astonishment. “Seems we are old acquaintances, then.”

“More than acquaintances, Richard Rahl.” Nathan gave him a meaningful look. “My name is Nathan Rahl.”

Richard’s mouth dropped open. “You are my . . . great-great-something-or-other?”

“Too many ‘greats’ to count. I am nearly a thousand years old, my boy.” He waggled a finger in the air. “I have had an interest in you for a long time. You are in the prophecies.

“I wrote The Adventures of Bonnie Day for some of those who had potential. It is a book of prophecy, of sorts. A primer of prophecy, one you would be able to understand, so it would help you. It did help you, didn’t it?”

“More than once,” Richard said, still having trouble keeping his jaw up.

“Good. I’m pleased then. We gave the book to a few, special boys. You are the only one still alive. The rest died in ‘inexplicable’ accidents.”

Richard finished the pear while he thought. He definitely didn’t like the part about Subtractive Magic. “So can you help me with using my power?”

“Think, Richard. The Sisters have not given you pain with the collar, have they.”

“No. But they will.”

“Fighting the last war, Richard. What did Bonnie Day tell the Warwick troops guarding the moors? That the enemy would not come the same way as they had before. That they were foolishly wasting their energy trying to fight the last war.” Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “You seem to have missed the lesson. Just because something happened to you before, that does not mean it will happen again. Think ahead, Richard, not behind.”

Richard hesitated. “I . . . had a vision in one of the towers. A vision that Sister Verna used the collar to hurt me.”

“And it brought the anger forth.”

Richard nodded. “I called the magic and killed her.”

Nathan gave a small, disappointed shake of his head. “The vision was your own mind trying to tell you something, trying to show you that you could defend yourself if they did that, that you could defeat them. It was your gift and your mind working together, trying to help you. You were too busy fighting the last war to heed the message.”

Chagrined, Richard kept his mouth shut. He had worried about them hurting him, to the exclusion of everything else. He had ignored the true meaning of what Kahlan had done, because he had been so afraid of the past coming to life again. Think of the solution, not the problem; that was what Zedd had taught him. He had been blinded to the future by the past.

“I see what you mean, Nathan,” he admitted. “What did you mean about the Sisters not giving me pain with the collar?”

“Ann knows you are a war wizard, I told her before you were born. I told her near to five hundred years ago. She would have given orders to the Sisters. Giving pain to a war wizard is like kicking a badger on his rump.”

“You mean that pain is somehow the secret to my power?”

“No. The result of pain. Anger.” He gestured to the sword at Richard’s hip. “You use the sword in that way. Anger calls forth the magic. Actually, you call the magic, it brings you anger, and so the magic works. Would you like me to show you how to touch your Han?”

Richard scooted forward. “Yes. I never thought I would say that, but yes. I need to be able to get out of here.”

“Hold up your palm. Good.” He seemed to pull an aura of authority around himself. “Now, lose yourself in my eyes.”

Richard stared into the hooded, deep, dark, azure eyes. The gaze drew him in. Richard felt as if he were falling up into the clear, blue sky. His breath came in ragged pulls, not of his own will. He felt Nathan’s commanding words more than heard them.

“Call forth the anger, Richard. Call forth the rage. Call forth the hate and fury.” Richard felt it, just as when he drew the sword; as he felt his breath being drawn for him, he felt the anger being drawn. “Now, feel the heat of that rage. Feel the flames of it. Good. Now focus those feelings in the palm of your hand.”

Richard funneled the rage of the magic to his hand, directed its flow, feeling its force. His teeth gritted with the power of it.

“Look in your hand, Richard. See it there. See what you are feeling.”

Richard’s eyes moved slowly to his hand. A ball of blue and yellow fire tumbled slowly above his outstretched palm. He could feel the energy flowing from himself, into the fire. He increased the flow of rage, and the angry ball of flame grew.

“Now, cast the rage, the hate, the anger, the fire, at the hearth.”

Richard threw his hand out. The slowly tumbling sphere of flame stayed with his hand. He looked to the hearth, focusing the rage outward, casting it away from himself.

The liquid light howled as it streaked to the hearth, exploding there with a crack, like lightning.

Nathan smiled with pride. “That is how it’s done, my boy. I doubt the Sisters could teach you that in a hundred years. You’re a natural. No doubt about it. You are a war wizard.”

“But Nathan, I didn’t feel my Han. I didn’t sense anything different. All I felt was angry, like when I use the sword. For that matter, like when I shut my finger in a door.”

Nathan nodded knowingly. “Of course not. You are a war wizard. Others have only one side of the gift. They use what is around them; the air, heat, cold, fire, water, whatever they need.

“War wizards aren’t like others. They instead tap the core of power within themselves. You don’t direct your Han, you direct your feelings. The Sisters teach the ‘how’ of how everything is done. That is irrelevant to your power. For you, results are all that are important, because you draw power from within. That is why the Sisters cannot teach you.”

“What do you mean that’s why they cannot teach me?”

“Have you ever seen a seamstress miss a pincushion? The Sisters want you to watch your hand, the pin, and the pincushion. That’s the way other wizards use their magic. War wizards don’t watch, they just do. Their Han acts instinctively.”

“Was that . . . wizard’s fire?”

Nathan chuckled. “That was to wizard’s fire what an annoyed moth is to an enraged bull.”

Richard tried again, but the fire wouldn’t come. The anger wouldn’t come. He could draw the sword’s anger, but it wasn’t the same kind he had done with Nathan, from within himself.

“It won’t work. Why can’t I do it again?”

“Because I was helping you, showing you with my own power what it’s like. You are not yet able to do it on your own.”

“Why?”

Nathan reached over and tapped Richard’s head. “Because it must come from in here. You have yet to accept yourself, who you are. You don’t believe. You still fight who you are. Until you accept yourself, until you believe, you won’t be able to call forth your Han, your power, except in great anger.”

“What of the headaches that came from my gift? The Sisters said they would kill me without the collar.”

“The Sisters nibble around the truth as if it were gristle in a piece of meat. They only eat it if they’re starving. They want us prisoners so they can bring us to their ways.

“What they attempt to do when they train with you is what I have just done. The headaches are dangerous, but only if a young wizard is left alone with his power. When you had the headaches, were you ever able to make them go away?”

“Yes. Sometimes when I concentrated on shooting arrows, or when something inside warned me of danger, or when I was angry and used the magic of the sword, then they went away for a time.”

“That’s because you were bringing the gift into harmony with your mind. The only thing required to keep the gift from harming you is a bit of instruction—like I just gave you.

“Teaching wizards should be a wizard’s business. For a wizard, bringing your mind into harmony with your gift is a simple matter, because it’s the male gift teaching the male gift. What I have just done with you is enough to keep the gift from harming you for a good long time—without the Rada’Han.

“In the future, joining with a wizard will take you the next step, and protect you until you reach the following plain. It’s only important to have help available when you need it. The Sisters need a hundred years to show you what I have just done.

“They use the collar as an excuse to take us prisoner for their own purposes. They have their own ideas about the training of wizards. Their idea is to control wizards.”

“Why?”

“They think wizards are responsible for all the evil that has befallen mankind, and if they collar the power, control it, and indoctrinate it, they will bring the light of their theology to the people. They are zealots who believe they are the only ones who know the true way to eternal reward in the Creator’s light. They feel justified in using any means to gain that end.”

“You mean that what you have just showed me, with my power, is enough to keep the gift from killing me, without the collar?”

“It’s enough to keep the gift from killing you, but it would take many more lessons to teach you to be a real wizard. All I have done is to hold the stallion’s bit, so he won’t buck you off. It would take much more work to teach you to ride with grace.”

Richard could feel the muscles in his face draw tight. “If this is true, then they are kicking the rump of a badger. Thank you, for helping me.” Richard rubbed his fingers together. “Nathan, there is great trouble coming. Coming very soon. I need to know a few things. Do you know the Wizard’s Second Rule?”

“Of course. But you must learn the first, before you have the second.”

“I already know the first. I killed Darken Rahl with the first. It states that people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it’s true.”

“And the counter to it?”

“The secret is that there is no counter. I must be always vigilant, knowing that I, too, am vulnerable, and never arrogantly believe I am immune. I must always be alert that I can fall prey.”

“Very good.”

“And the Second Rule?”

Nathan’s white eyebrows hooded his azure eyes. “The Second Rule involves unintended results.”

“So, what is it?”

“The Second Rule is that the greatest harm can result from the best intentions. It sounds a paradox, but kindness and good intentions can be an insidious path to destruction. Sometimes doing what seems right is wrong, and can cause harm. The only counter to it is knowledge, wisdom, forethought, and understanding the First Rule. Even then, that is not always enough.”

“Good intentions, or doing right, can cause harm? Such as?”

Nathan shrugged. “It would seem kind to give candy to a small child, because they like it so. Knowledge, wisdom, and forethought tell us that it would make the child sick if we continued this ‘kindness’ at the expense of good food.”

“That’s obvious. Anyone would know that.”

“Say a person hurts their leg, and you bring them food while they heal, but after time they still don’t wish to get up, because it hurts at first. So, you continue to be kind and bring them food. Over time, their legs will shrivel, and it will be even more painful to get up, so you are kind and continue bringing food. In the end, they will be bedridden, unable to ever walk again, because of your kindness. Your good intentions have brought harm.”

“I don’t think that happens often enough to be a problem.”

“I’m trying to give you obvious examples, Richard, so you will be better able to extrapolate to more difficult problems, and understand an obscure principle.

“Good intentions, being kind, can encourage the lazy, and motivate sound minds to become indolent. The more help you give them, the more help they need. As long as your kindness is open-ended, they never gain discipline, dignity, or self-reliance. Your kindness impoverishes their humanity.

“If you give a coin to a begger because he says his family is hungry, and he uses it to get drunk, and then kills someone, is it your fault? No. He did the killing, but had you given him food instead, or gone and given his family food, the killing would not have happened. It was a good intention that resulted in harm.

“Wizard’s Second Rule: the greatest harm can result from the best intentions. Violation can cause anything from discomfort, to disaster, to death.

“Some leaders have preached peace, saying that even self-defense is wrong. It seems the best of intentions to shun violence. In the end, it often leads to a slaughter, where their threat of violence in the beginning would have prevented attack, and resulted in no violence. They put their good intentions above the realities of life. They accuse warriors of being bloodthirsty, when the warriors would have actually prevented bloodshed.”

“Are you trying to say I should feel no shame at being a war wizard?”

“It does the sheep no good to preach the goodness of a diet of grass, if the wolves are of a different mind.”

Richard felt as though he were having a conversation with Zedd. “But kindness can’t always be wrong.”

“Of course not. That’s where wisdom comes in. You must be wise enough to foresee the consequences of your actions.

“But the problem with the Second Rule is that you can’t always tell for sure whether you are violating it, or simply doing right. Worse, magic is dangerous. When you add magic to the good intentions, violation of the Second Rule can lead to catastrophe.

“Using magic is easy. Knowing when to use magic is the hard part. Every time you use it, you can bring unexpected ruin.

“Do you know, Richard, that it’s the weight of one flake of snow that is one too many, and causes an avalanche? Without that one, last flake, the catastrophe would not happen. When using magic, you must know which is the one snowflake too many before you add its weight. The avalanche will be out of all proportion to what you think the weight of that flake could invoke.”

Richard rubbed his thumb on the hilt of his sword. “Nathan, I think I may have torn the veil because I violated the Wizard’s Second Rule.”

“You did.”

“What did I do?”

“You used your magic, through the Wizard’s First Rule, to win. In so doing, you fed magic to the boxes, the gateway, tearing the veil. You did it through ignorance. You didn’t know that the unintended results of doing what seemed right could be the destruction of all life. One snowflake indeed. Magic is dangerous.”

“How can I fix it?”

“The Stone of Tears must be put back on the Keeper. The lock, the seal, must be restored. The Stone of Tears must be sent back to its rightful place, in the underworld, where it will serve to restrain the Keeper’s power in this world. To do that requires both powers.

“The key must then be turned in the lock, so to speak, by closing the gateway. This also requires both Magics. Doing any of this with only one side of the magic would rip the veil, so a wizard with the gift for only the Additive, such as myself, would be of no help. Only one such as you can accomplish the task.

“Until it is done, we are in terrible danger. If you act wrongly, use the stone for your own reasons, you have the power to destroy the balance and tear the veil the rest of the way, sending us all into eternal night.”

Richard stared at the table while he thought. “Do you know what an ‘agent’ is?”

“Ah. You must be talking about the trouble with the upcoming winter solstice. An agent is one who trades favors with the Keeper, favors such as the innocent souls of children, in return for knowledge of the use of Subtractive Magic.”

He gave Richard a dark look. “But that would not be a problem, because you sent Darken Rahl to the underworld, where he has no power here. Darken Rahl is in the underworld, is he not?”

Richard felt a gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. He had not only torn the veil, but in violating the Second Rule again, by trying to help with a gathering, he had brought an agent, Darken Rahl, back to this world where he could act to tear the veil. It was all Richard’s fault. He felt hot and dizzy. He thought he might be sick at any moment.

“Nathan, I have to get this collar off.”

Nathan shrugged. “I can’t help with that.”

Richard had come here for a specific reason. He decided he had to try to get the answer. He cleared his throat.

“Nathan, there is someone very important to me. She is in danger, and I must help. There is a prophecy about her that is written down, but it also came to me in a vision.”

“Which prophecy?”

“Of all there were, but a single one born of the magic to bring forth truth will remain alive when the shadow’s threat is lifted . . .”

In his deep, powerful voice, Nathan finished the prophecy. “Therefore comes the greater darkness of the dead. For there to be a chance at life’s bond, this one in white must be offered to her people, to bring their joy and good cheer.”

“Then you know of it. Nathan, I saw the meaning of the prophecy. I was told not to speak of the vision, but it’s not a joyful outcome as far as I’m concerned.”

“She is beheaded,” Nathan said in a quiet voice. “That is the true meaning of that prophecy.”

Richard put his arm across his churning stomach. That was what he had seen in the vision. His world started spinning again.

“Nathan, I have to get away from here. I have to stop that from happening.”

“Richard, look at me.” Richard looked up, managing to hold the tears back. “Richard, I must tell you the truth. If this prophecy does not happen, there is nothing beyond. We all die. It will be the end of all life. The Keeper will have us.

“If you use your power to stop it, you will rip the veil asunder and allow the Keeper to swallow the word of the living.”

Richard shot to his feet. “Why! Why would she have to die to save the living! It makes no sense!” His fist tightened around the hilt of the sword. “I have to stop it! It’s just a stupid riddle! I won’t let her die for a riddle!”

“Richard, a time will come when you have to make a choice. I have been hoping for a very long time now that when that time comes, you will be wise enough to make the right choice. You have the power to destroy us all if you choose wrongly.”

“I will not stand here while you tell me I must let her die. The good spirits have done nothing to help. I must. I will.”

Richard stormed from the room. Cracks ran along the walls beside him as he marched down the hall. Chunks of plaster rained down behind as he went. Richard only dimly noticed, but it pleased his temper. When he went through the shield, the paint on the walls to the side charred and curled.

Richard’s thoughts ran wildly in all directions at once. He knew now that his vision had been of what was going to happen if he didn’t stop it. It was going to come true if he couldn’t get away from the palace. Maybe that was what the prophecy meant, that he would be held prisoner there, and he wouldn’t be able to help, and Kahlan would die.

In the courtyard below, Richard saw a commotion. Guards were running from everywhere. When he got closer, he saw one of the Baka Ban Mana blade masters. There had to be close to a hundred worried-looking guards surrounding him in a ring, holding their distance. The man in loose-fitting clothes, in the center of the ring, looked unconcerned.

Richard pushed through the throng. “What’s going on?”

The man bowed to Richard. “Caharin. I am Jiaan. Your wife, Du Chaillu, has sent me to give you a message.”

Richard decided not to contest the wife part. “What is it?”

“I am to tell you that she has followed her husband’s instructions. We have brought the Majendie to a peace with us. We no longer make war with them, or the people here.”

“That’s wonderful news, Jiaan. Tell her I am proud of her, and her people.”

“Your people,” Jiaan corrected. “She wants you to know she has decided to bear the child. And she also sends message that we are ready to return to our homeland. She wishes to know when you will come to take us there.”

Richard glanced around at the people. Not only guards were gathered, but Sisters, too. He recognized a few of his teachers watching: Sisters Tovi, Nicci, and Armina. Pasha stood nearby. At the far edge of the crowd he saw Sister Verna. On a balcony in the distance, beyond the walls, he saw the squat figure of the Prelate.

Richard turned back to Jiaan. “Tell her to be ready, that it will be soon.”

Jiaan bowed. “Thank you, Caharin. We will be ready.”

Richard spoke to the guards in a circle around them. “This man has come in peace. He is to be left in peace.”

Jiaan strode away, unconcerned, as if he were alone on a walk, but the ring of guards moved with him, as Richard knew they would until he was well clear of the city. The crowd started drifting away.

Richard’s head was pounding. He had brought his father back from the underworld by violating the Wizard’s Second Rule a second time in the spirit house; he had tried to do the right thing and instead had brought harm. Warren had told him that the Keeper needed an agent to escape, and Richard had provided one.

His mind reeled. He had just found out that Kahlan loved him and life seemed good again, only to discover that he was to be trapped here for hundreds of years, and if he couldn’t escape, Kahlan would die on winter solstice. His thoughts went around and around in a desperate tangle.

He had to do something. Time was running out. He decided to find the one person who might be able to help him.