Stone of Tears

Chapter 67

Kahlan ran down the dark stone corridors and through the tomblike chambers. The first rays of light splashed golden patches against the coarse, dark gray granite wall opposite the windows as she raced up an east stairway. Her heart pounded with the effort. She had not stopped running since Jebra had told her that she had spied a light in the Wizard’s Keep: that Zedd was back.

She remembered what it felt like to run with long hair: the weight of it, the way it streamed out behind, flowing with her strides. She felt none of that now. But it didn’t matter; she felt only desperate elation that Zedd was back. She had been waiting so long. She screamed his name as she ran.

Bursting into the cluttered reading room she stumbled to a panting halt. Zedd stood behind a table with books and papers scattered over it, just as she remembered it from the last time she had seen it, months ago. Candles on stands gave the small room an intimate glow. The reading room had but a single window, facing the still murky western sky.

A big man with bushy eyebrows, mostly gray hair, and a weathered, creased face looked up from a walking stick he was inspecting. Adie sat in a chair to the side, her head flitting toward sounds. Zedd cocked his head with a curious frown.

“Zedd!” She gulped air. “Oh, Zedd, I’m so relieved to see you.”

“Zedd?” He turned toward the big man. “Zedd?” The big man gave a nod. “But I like Ruben.”

“Zedd! I need your help!”

“Who be there?” Adie said from the chair.

“Adie, it’s me. Kahlan.”

“Kahlan?” She twitched her head toward Zedd. “Who be Kahlan?”

Zedd shrugged. “A pretty girl with short hair. She seems to know us.”

“What are you talking about! Zedd, I need help! Richard is in trouble! I need you!”

Zedd’s brow wrinkled in bewilderment. “Richard. I know that name. I think . . .”

Kahlan was frantic. “Zedd, what’s the matter! Don’t you know me? Please Zedd, I need you. Richard needs you.”

“Richard . . .” He rubbed his smooth chin as he stared in thought at the table. “Richard . . .”

“Your grandson! Dear spirits, don’t you know your own grandson!”

He stared at the table, thinking. “Grandson . . . I seem to remember . . . no, can’t say I do.”

“Zedd! Listen to me! The Sisters of the Light have him! They’ve taken him away!”

Kahlan stood silently catching her breath. Zedd’s hazel eyes rose slowly to meet her gaze. His face lost its curiosity as his eyebrows drew in to hood his glare. “The Sisters of the Light have Richard?”

Kahlan had seen wizards angry, but she had never seen a look in any wizard’s eyes like the look in Zedd’s eyes.

“Yes,” she said. She wiped her sweaty palms on her hips as she watched a crack run up the stone of the wall behind him. “They came and took him.”

Zedd put his knuckles to the table and leaned toward her. “That’s not possible. They couldn’t take him unless they got one of their cursed collars around his neck. Richard would not put a collar around his neck.”

Kahlan’s knees were beginning to tremble. “He did.”

His seething expression seemed it might ignite the very air. “Why would he put their collar around his neck, Confessor?”

“Because,” she said in a small voice, “I made him put it on.”

The candles on one of the stands close to him abruptly melted, dripping their wax to hissing puddles on the floor. The iron arms that had held the candles drooped down, like a plant needing water. The big man shrank back toward the wall of shelves.

Zedd’s voice came in a dangerous whisper. “You did what, Confessor?”

The room echoed with silence as she stood quivering. “He didn’t want to. I had to do it. I told him that he had to put it on to prove he loved me.”

Kahlan thought she felt herself hit the wall. She couldn’t understand why she was sprawled on the floor. She pushed herself up with shaking arms. She gasped as she was suddenly jerked to her feet and slammed against the wall again.

Zedd, his eyes wild, was right in front of her. “You did that to Richard!”

Kahlan’s head spun. Her own voice sounded distant. “You don’t understand. I had to. Zedd, I need your help. Richard told me to find you, and tell you what I had done. Please Zedd, help him.”

In a rage, Zedd backhanded her across the face. She skinned her hands on the stone floor as she went down. He yanked her to her feet and slammed her to the wall once more.

“I can’t help him! No one can! You fool!”

Tears ran down her face. “Why? Zedd, we have to help him!”

She brought up her arms in front of her face to ward him off when he drew his hand back again. It didn’t help. Her head smacked the wall again. The room spun. She shook all over. She had never seen a wizard in a rage so out of control. Kahlan knew he was going to kill her for what she had done to Richard.

“You fool. You treacherous fool. No one can help him now.”

“Please, Zedd. You can. Please, help him.”

“Not even I. No one can get to him. I can’t pass the towers. Richard is lost to us. All I had left is lost.”

“What do you mean, lost to us?” With trembling fingers, she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth. She didn’t wipe the tears. “He will be back. He has to come back.”

Zedd’s eyes never left hers as he slowly shook his head. “Not while any of us are alive. The Palace of the Prophets is in a spell of time. Richard will be there for the next three hundred years while they train him. We will never see him again. He is lost to this world.”

Kahlan shook her head. “No. Dear spirits, no. That can’t be. We will see him. It can’t be true!”

“True, Mother Confessor. You have put him beyond any help. I will never again see my grandson. You will never again see him. Richard will not return to this world for another three hundred years. Because of you. Because you made him put on that collar to prove he loves you.”

He turned his back to her. Kahlan fell to her knees. “Noooo!” She beat her fists on the floor. “Dear spirits, why have you done this to me!” She cried in choking sobs. “Richard, my Richard.”

“What happened to your hair, Mother Confessor?” Zedd asked in a menacing voice, his back still to her.

Kahlan sat back on her heels. What did it matter anymore. “The council convicted me of treason. I have been sentenced to be executed. To be beheaded. The people all cheered at the pronouncement of sentence. They all wanted to see it done. But I escaped.”

Zedd nodded. “The people shall have their wish.” He grabbed what was left of her hair in his fist and started dragging her from the room. “For what you have done, you shall be beheaded.”

“Zedd!” she screamed. “Zedd! Please, don’t do this!”

He used magic to drag her down the hall like a sack of feathers.

“Tomorrow, at the winter solstice festival, the people shall have their wish. They shall see the Mother Confessor beheaded. As First Wizard, I will see to it. I shall see it done.”

Kahlan went limp. What did it matter? The good spirits had abandoned her. They had stripped her of everything that mattered.

Worse, she herself had condemned Richard to three hundred years of the thing he feared most.

She wanted to die. Death couldn’t come fast enough for her.

Richard stood with his hands on his hips as he watched the dark clouds made by spells in the distance, in the Valley of the Lost. They looked beautiful in the sunrise, with golden edges and striations of glowing rays. But he knew they were deadly.

Du Chaillu put an affectionate hand to his arm. “My husband makes me proud this day. He returns our land to us, as the old words have foretold.”

“I’ve explained it to you a dozen times, Du Chaillu; I am not your husband. You have simply misinterpreted the old words. It only means we must do this together. And we haven’t done it yet. I wish you would have come with me without bringing everyone else. I don’t even know if this will work. We could be killed.”

She patted his arm reassuringly. “The Caharin has come. He can do anything. He will return our land.” She left him to his thoughts and started back to the camp. “All our people should be with us. It is their right.” She stopped and turned back. “Will we be leaving soon, Caharin?”

“Soon,” Richard said absently.

She started off again. “I will be with our people when you are ready for me.”

The entire Baka Ban Mana nation was camped behind them. Thousands upon thousands of tents were spread out over the hills, like mushrooms after a month of rain. He hadn’t been able to talk them out of coming, to convince them to wait, so they were all here, with him.

Richard sighed. What difference did it make? If he was wrong, and this failed, he had no reason to worry about all the Baka Ban Mana being disappointed in him. He would be dead.

Warren and Sister Verna quietly came up behind.

“Richard,” Warren said, “can we talk to you?”

Richard continued to stare out at the storms. “Of course, Warren.” He cast a glance back. “What’s on your mind?”

Warren pushed his hands up the opposite sleeves of his robes. Richard thought it made him look very wizardlike when he did that. Warren was going to someday end up being Richard’s idea of what a wizard ought to be: wise, compassionate, and charged with knowledge Richard could only wonder at. If they didn’t all die, that was.

“Well, Sister Verna and I were talking. About what happens after you get through the valley. Richard, I know what you want to do, but we have run out of time. There never was enough time to begin with. Tomorrow is winter solstice. It can’t be done.”

“Just because you don’t know how to do something, that does not mean it can’t be done.”

“I don’t understand.”

Richard smiled at them. “You will. You will understand in a few hours.”

Warren looked away toward the valley. He idly scratched his nose. “If you say so, Richard.”

Sister Verna said nothing. Richard was still trying to get used to her not arguing with him whenever he said something oblique. He wasn’t sure she didn’t want to.

“Warren, about the prophecy, the one about the gateway and the winter solstice. Are you sure it’s about this winter solstice?” Warren nodded. “And if there were an agent, with an open box of Orden, and the skrin bone, are those the only elements needed to open the gateway, to tear the veil?”

A hot breeze ruffled Warren’s hair. “Yes . . . but you told me Darken Rahl is dead. There is no agent.”

It sounded more like a worried question than a statement.

“Must the agent be alive?” Sister Verna asked.

Warren shifted his weight to the other foot. “Well, not in principle, I guess. If he were somehow called back into this world, but I don’t see how that could be done, but if it were done, that would be all that was needed.”

Richard sighed in frustration. “And then this spirit agent could do the things the living agent would have done?”

Suspicion crept onto Warren’s face. “Well, yes and no. It would require another element. A spirit cannot perform the physical requirements necessary to complete the covenant. He would need a coadjutor.”

“You mean the spirit could not perform certain of the tasks needed, so he would need hands that would work in this world.”

“Yes. With a helper, a spirit could do what was needed. But how could an agent be called back into this world? I don’t see how that could be accomplished.”

Sister Verna glanced away. “You had better tell him.”

Richard pulled his shirt up and showed Warren the scar. “Darken Rahl burned me with his hand, when I unintentionally called him back into this world. He said he was here to tear the veil.”

Warren’s eyes opened wide. His worried gaze darted to the Sister, and then back to Richard. “If Darken Rahl is an agent, as you said, and he has someone to help him, then we are only one element away from destruction—the skrin bone. We need to know.”

Richard pushed the mriswith cape back over his shoulder. “Sister Verna, would you help me?”

“What is it you would like me to do?”

“The first time you told me how to try to touch my Han, I decided to concentrate on a mental image of my sword. But that time, the first time, I used a background to put it against. It was something from the book of magic I told you about. The Book of Counted Shadows.

“When I tried to touch my Han, with the sword on that background, something happened. I was somehow in D’Hara, in the People’s Palace, where the boxes are. I saw Darken Rahl. He saw me, too, and spoke to me. He told me he was waiting for me.”

Sister Verna’s eyebrows lifted. “Did this ever happen again?”

“No. It frightened the wits out of me. I never used that background again. I think if I use that background now, I may be able to see what is happening there.”

She folded her hands together before herself. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. But it may have something to do with the Magic of Orden. It would not be the first thing about you that astonished me. It could be real, or just a fear, like a dream.”

“I need to try. Would you sit with me? I’m afraid of not being able to pull back.”

“Of course, Richard.” She sat down on the ground and held up a hand. “Come. I will be with you.”

Richard pulled the mriswith cape around himself as he sat down, folding his legs. “This thing hides my Han, maybe it will work to keep Darken Rahl from seeing me this time.”

Richard relaxed himself as he held hands with Sister Verna. He concentrated on the mental image of the sword against the black square with a white border, as he had done the first time. As he concentrated, seeking the calm center, something began to happen.

The sword, the black square, and the white border all began to shimmer as if seen through heat waves, the same as the first time. The solid form of the sword softened, becoming transparent, and then vanished. The background dissolved. Once again, Richard was looking into the Garden of Life, at the People’s Palace.

He searched the filmy image, seeing white bones where before he had seen burned bodies. He remembered them lying over the short walls, in bushes, and sprawled on the grass. They were much as he remembered, only now they were mostly exposed bones.

Richard saw the white, glowing figure of Darken Rahl, but he was not standing before the stone altar, before the three boxes of Orden. He was near the circle that had held white sand. The sand had not been there the last time he had seen this vision.

A woman in a long, brown skirt and white blouse knelt at Darken Rahl’s feet, bent over the circle of sand. Richard willed himself closer. She was drawing lines in the sparkling sorcerer’s sand. Richard remembered some of the symbols she was drawing; Darken Rahl had drawn them before when he had opened the box.

Richard watched her hand moving slowly, carefully, as she drew the lines of spells. Her right hand, he noticed, was missing the little finger.

In the center of the circle, in the center of the sorcerer’s sand, sat a round object. Richard went closer. It was carved all over with beasts, just as the Prelate had described.

Richard wanted to scream with rage.

Just then, Darken Rahl lifted his face, and looked right into Richard’s eyes. A smile slowly spread on his lips.

Richard didn’t know if Darken Rahl was really looking at him or not, but he didn’t wait to find out. With desperate effort, he forced the image of the sword back into his mind, like slamming a door, at the same time banishing the black-and-white background.

With a gasp, Richard forced his eyes open. His chest heaved.

Sister Verna’s eyes came open, too. “Richard, are you all right? You’ve been at it an hour. I felt you trying to pull back, so I pulled with you. What happened? What did you see?”

“An hour?” Richard was still trying to catch his breath. “I saw Darken Rahl, and the skrin bone. He had a woman there, helping him draw spells in the sorcerer’s sand.”

Warren leaned over Richard’s shoulder. “Maybe it was just a vision of a fear. It may not have been real.”

“Warren could be right,” Sister Verna said. She drew her lower lip through her teeth as she thought. “What did the woman look like?”

“Wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, maybe about your size. She was bent over, drawing in the sand, so I couldn’t see her eyes.” Richard pressed his fingers to his forehead as he thought. “Her hand. She was missing the little finger on her right hand.”

Warren groaned. Sister Verna’s eyes slid closed.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Sister Odette,” she said. “That’s Sister Odette.”

Warren nodded confirmation. “She has been gone for close to six months. I thought she went to get a boy.”

“Curse the spirits,” Richard said under his breath. He sprang to his feet. “Warren, run and get Du Chaillu. Tell her we must leave right now.”

He ground his teeth in frustration. He had thought he had all the time he needed. Well, he still had enough time, if he hurried.

Du Chaillu seemed in a trance as Richard pulled her forward by the hand. With the Sword of Truth in his other hand, Richard was in a world of his own, too. His thundering rage was a match for the angry black clouds. The spells of magic circled them like a pack of dogs around a porcupine, angry and insistent, but holding their distance as they searched for an opening.

Wisps of light emerged from the darkness and whirled around them, spiraling down to vanish into an aura that surrounded Du Chaillu. She seemed to be absorbing the magic, as Sister Verna told him she had done before. Together, they were the completed link Warren had told him the old books said would contain the power and bring the towers down.

Through the waves of heat and the boiling mist, Richard saw the first tower. He pulled Du Chaillu onward, toward the glistening black wall that disappeared into the darkness overhead. Dust and dirt lifted around them as they rushed toward the arched opening in the wall. Spells snatched at them, but their light was sucked to Du Chaillu.

Richard acted without thought, not knowing what drove him onward, and not trying to stop it. If he was to succeed, if he was to save Kahlan, he had to let those things within himself guide him. He had to hope that if he truly had the gift, it would react on instinct, as Nathan had told him, and do what was needed.

Du Chaillu seemed not to notice the sparkling black sand they stood on in the center of the tower. She seemed lost in a private spell of her own, in the power passed down to her from those who built the towers and took her people’s land. So far, she had done her half of what was needed; she had protected him. Now Richard had to do his part.

On impulse, holding her hand tight in his, he lifted the sword high in the other, pointing it straight up. He lost himself in the fury of the magic, letting it overwhelm him. He felt the heat of it in the calm center he had always sought. He let the rage fill the void.

Lightning exploded from the sword, arcing up into the darkness overhead, jumping from one wall to the other, bathing them all in liquid light. The noise was deafening.

Fire raced through the black stone until the whole of the tower glowed, the stone turning white in the heat of the luminous discharge.

Richard felt as if the lightning were passing through him, too. It seared him with its power, erupting outward, and up through the sword. Only his rage enabled him to endure the ferocity of the onrushing force coming from within.

Flickering webs of lightning cascaded down the walls and across the black sand, until everything was alive with it. The black sand turned white, as had the walls, and the world burned with pulsing fire and light.

Abruptly, it ended. The lightning cut off, the fire winked out, and the roar of noise ceased, leaving silence ringing in his ears. The polished black stone of the tower was left a blinding white gloss.

Du Chaillu seemed still not to notice what was around her, and Richard pulled her onward, to complete the task for which they both had been born.

In the white tower, as he held the sword high, he expected the flash of heat and light again, but it did not come. Instead, the counter to it, the balance to it, exploded forth.

Concussion ripped the air, threatening to strip flesh from bone, as black lightning blasted upward, a void in the light. Like the lightning before, Richard felt the might of the power erupting from deep within himself, as if his very soul were pouring it forth. The snaking void in the light raked the walls, and, with a thunderous roar, pierced a void into the darkness above.

As the black lightning twisted into the darkness overhead, shadows oozed down the white walls, making it seem as if they were melting into the depths of eternal night. Darkness reached the ground and flowed toward them, soaking into the white sand, turning it black.

Richard never gave thought to trying to escape the encroaching night. When it reached them, he felt as if they were being plunged into icy water. Du Chaillu, her eyes closed, shivered with the touch of it. Richard noted it, but through the wrath of the sword’s magic, it was a distant sensation that only fed the anger.

It seemed the whole world had vanished forever into inky obscurity. Light, and vision, were beyond even memory.

Richard felt the undulating, twisting rope of the black lightning, the void in the world of life, cut off. Sudden silence replaced the cacophony. He could hear himself breathing hard. He could hear Du Chaillu doing the same. Light and life and warmth emerged from the cold void.

Outside, through the arches in the stone, now glossy black where it was once white, Richard could see light coming through the thinning fog. The ground that before was baked and barren was now green and lush. Still holding hands, he and Du Chaillu stood in the archway, watching the haze and smoke lift on a world no one had seen in thousands of years.

Hand in hand, they walked out into the cool air, across the thick grass, and through shafts of sunlight. The storms of spells were gone, the dark clouds they spawned evaporating as they lifted. The air smelled fresh and clean. The feel of life vibrated around them.

The valley off to the pale blue line of mountains in the distance was lush and green. Groves of trees were gathered in places along meandering streams. Gentle rises overlaid each other in differing shades of green.

Richard could understand why the Baka Ban Mana would want their land back. It was a place that simply looked like home. This was a place of light and hope that would have stayed in a people’s heart throughout all the dark centuries. It was not a place that belonged to them—it was they that belonged to this place.

“You have done it, Caharin,” Du Chaillu said. “You have returned our home from beyond the mist.”

Richard saw a few people scattered about in the distance, those who had been trapped in spells for untold years. They wandered aimless and confused. He had to find two he knew.

Sister Verna and Warren galloped toward them, bringing his horse. Before they had completely stopped, Richard was up on Bonnie. Du Chaillu thrust a hand up. She wanted to go with him. Reluctantly, he pulled her up behind.

“Richard,” Warren said, “that was astonishing! How did you do it?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Warren. I had been hoping you could explain it to me.”

Richard galloped Bonnie off in the direction he remembered seeing Chase and Rachel when he had been through the valley the first time. Warren and Sister Verna followed after. It wasn’t long before he found them sitting on the bank of a brook. Chase, with his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and his usual look of strained tolerance nowhere in evidence, looked confused.

Richard swung his leg over Bonnie’s neck and leapt down. “Chase! Are you all right?”

“Richard? What’s going on? Where are we? We were coming to get you. You can’t go . . .” He looked around. “You can’t go into the valley. Zedd needs you. The veil is torn.”

“I know.” Richard handed the reins to Sister Verna and quickly introduced everyone. “My friends will explain it all to you.” He put a knee to the ground in front of Rachel. The dark, amber-colored Stone of Tears hung on a chain around her neck, just as he remembered it. “Rachel, are you all right? How do you feel?”

She blinked up at him. “I was in a nice place, Richard.”

“This is a nice place, too. You will be fine, now. Rachel, did Zedd give you that stone?”

She nodded. “He said you might want it, and I was to keep it for you, until you came to get it.”

“That’s why I’m here, Rachel. May I have it, then?”

She smiled and pulled it over her head. Richard unclasped the chain and pulled the Stone off. Holding it in his hand, he could feel its warmth, and Zedd’s presence.

The chain was too small for him. He handed it back to Rachel, telling her it looked prettier on her than it would on him, and then strung the Stone onto a leather thong he had ready.

He hung the Stone of Tears around his neck, along with the Agiel and the dragon’s tooth. From the corner of his eye, he watched the distant dot growing in the sky.

“Richard,” Warren said, “after seeing what I just saw, with the towers, I have no doubt you can do what you say you can do, but you have no time to reach where you must go. Tomorrow, the world is going to end if you don’t get there. What are you going to do?”

“Where is it we are going, my husband?” Du Chaillu asked.

“ ‘We’ are not going anywhere, Du Chaillu. You are staying here, with your people.”

“Husband?” Chase said, a scowl finally starting to creep onto his face.

“I am not her husband. It’s just some silly idea she got in her head.” Richard watched the red shape growing, high up in the sky. “Look, I don’t have time to explain it. Sister Verna and Warren can tell you about it.”

Sister Verna, a suspicious frown on her face, took a step toward him. “What are you going to do? Warren was right, you have no time.”

In the distance, the red wings spread wide as the dragon plunged into a dive. Richard unhooked his pack from Bonnie, slinging it onto his back. He gave Bonnie’s neck a good-bye hug. He hooked on the quiver, and slipped the bow over his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he watched the dragon plummet straight down.

“I’m going to have time. I must leave you now, Sister.”

“What do you mean you are leaving? How?”

At the last instant the dragon pulled out of the dive. Her long neck stretched out. Wings spread wide, she shot toward them at incredible speed, skimming along just above the ground.

“I have only one chance to reach my goal in time. I must fly.”

“Fly!” Warren and Sister Verna shouted together.

Scarlet swept up with a roar. Everyone else saw her for the first time. Immense wings beat to slow the dragon’s speed.

Their clothes flapped in the sudden burst of wind. The grass all around flattened in the gusts. Warren, Sister Verna, and Du Chaillu stepped back in surprise. Scarlet settled to the ground as her forward speed was brought to a halt by her beating wings.

“Richard,” Sister Verna said as she slowly shook her head, “you have the oddest pets of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Red dragons are pets to no one, Sister. Scarlet is a dear friend.”

Richard trotted toward the huge red dragon glistening in the sunlight. Scarlet snorted a small cloud of gray smoke.

“Richard! How good to see you again. Since you called me so urgently with my tooth, I presume you are in trouble again. As usual.”

“Trouble indeed, my friend.” Richard patted a glossy red scale. “I’ve missed you, Scarlet.”

“Well, I’ve already eaten. I guess I must instead give you a ride in the sky to work up an appetite. Then I will eat you.”

Richard laughed. “Where is your little one?”

Her ears twitched. “Off hunting. Gregory is not so little anymore. He misses you, and would like to see you.”

“I would like to see Gregory, too. But I’m in a terrible hurry right now. I’m running out of time.”

“Richard!” Du Chaillu ran toward him. “I must go, too. I must go where my husband goes!”

Richard leaned toward Scarlet’s ear as she lowered her head and peered at him with one yellow eye. “A little flame, Scarlet,” he whispered. “Just for effect. Don’t hurt her.”

Du Chaillu leapt back with a squeal as a burst of fire charred the grass at her feet.

“Du Chaillu, your land is returned to your people. You must stay with them. You are their spirit woman; they need you. They need your guidance. I would ask something else of you: protect the towers that are on your land. I don’t know if they can bring any harm, but as the Caharin, I order that no one shall ever enter them. Guard them, and keep all others out, too.

“Live in peace with others who would live in peace with you, but continue to practice with the blades so you may protect yourselves.”

Du Chaillu drew herself up tall. The little strips of cloth on her prayer dress fluttered in the breeze, along with her thick black hair.

“You are wise, Caharin. I will see that it is as you say, until you return to your wife and your people.”

“Richard,” Sister Verna said. Her face held a serious look. “Do you know where Kahlan is?”

“Aydindril. She would have gone there; the prophecy takes place before her people. She will be in Aydindril.”

“The time of choosing is upon you, Richard. Where are you going now?”

He looked long into her steady gaze.

“D’Hara.”

After appraising him silently for a moment, she at last embraced him in a warm hug. She kissed his cheek. “And then?”

Richard raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Somehow I will stop what is to happen in D’Hara, and then I must get to Aydindril before it’s too late. Take care, my friend.”

She nodded. “Warren and I will see to the people here who have been released from the spells. They will need guidance. I have been a Sister of the Light for nearly two hundred years. All I ever wanted was to help people who needed it. But you had help. There is no excuse for taking you, or others. I want to try to set some of this right.”

Warren gave Richard a firm hug. “Thanks, Richard. For everything. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Richard winked. “Try not to have any adventures.”

“I’ll go with you,” Chase said.

“No.” Richard wiped a hand over his face. “No, go home, Chase. Take Rachel to her new mother, and her brothers and sisters. Emma will be worried sick by now. She hasn’t seen you in ages. Go home to you wife and family. I’ll need to be returning home soon, too.”

Richard turned back to Sister Verna. “We must do something about those six Sisters. They’re sailing for Westland. The people there have no protection against magic. In Westland, those Sisters will be like hawks in a hatchery.”

“I think that journey will take them some time. You have time enough for them, Richard.”

“Good. Kahlan will want to wed before the Mud People. Then I may need to come and get some advice on how to handle those six. Talk to Nathan, and Ann. We can decide what to do then.”

“Be careful,” Warren said. He stood stoically with his hands in the opposite sleeves of his robes. “And I don’t just mean with yourself. Don’t forget the things Nathan and I have told you. Don’t forget that everyone else is in danger from what you can do with the Stone of Tears. I don’t think you have yet reached your time of choosing.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Scarlet lowered herself so he could climb up onto her shoulders. He gripped the black-tipped spines and hauled himself up. Richard gave a slap to a red scale.

“To D’Hara, my friend. Again.”

With a roar of flame, Scarlet launched into the sky.