Stone of Tears

Chapter 9

Richard frowned. “Well? Who are they? What did he say?”

Still, she couldn’t make her eyes blink. She could only manage a whisper. “He said they are the Sisters of the Light.”

He stared at her a long moment. “Who are the Sisters of the Light?”

Finally, she blinked and looked over at him. “I don’t know a whole lot about them. No one does. Richard, I think we should leave.” Kahlan clamped both hands on his arm. “Please? Let’s go. Right now.”

Richard’s gaze glided over the men with spears, stopping on the Bird Man. “Thank him for coming to us. Tell him we will take care of it.”

After the Bird Man nodded and he and his men left, and they had told Savidlin they would go alone, Richard led her outside by the arm. They went around a few corners and he pushed her gently up against a wall, holding her by her upper arms.

“All right, you may not know a lot about them, but you know something. Tell me what it is. I don’t need to be a mind reader to tell you know something, and you’re afraid.”

“They have something to do with wizards. With those with the gift.”

“What do you mean?”

Kahlan put her hands on his arms the way he had his on hers. “One time when I was traveling with Wizard Giller, we were sitting around talking. You know, about life, dreams, things like that. Giller was a wizard by calling. He didn’t have the gift, just the calling. Being a wizard had been his lifelong ambition, his calling. Zedd had taught him to be a wizard. Only, because of the wizard’s web Zedd put over everyone when he left the Midlands, Giller didn’t remember Zedd. No one did. No one even remembered his name.

“Anyway, I asked him if he ever wished he had more than the calling. If he wished he had the gift. He smiled and daydreamed about it a minute. Then his smile went away. His face turned white, and he said no, he didn’t wish he had the gift.

“I was puzzled by the look of fear on his face. Wizards don’t often get a look like that over a simple question. I asked him why he wouldn’t want to have the gift. He said because if he had the gift, he would have to face the Sisters of the Light.

“I asked him who they were, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about them. He said it was best not to even mention their name aloud. He begged me not to ask him any more on the subject. I still remember how much the look on his face scared me.”

“Do you know where they’re from?”

“I’ve been almost everywhere in the Midlands. I’ve never heard of them being seen anywhere. And I’ve asked.”

Richard let go of her and put a fist on his hip. With his other hand, he squeezed his lower lip to a point as he thought. Finally he folded his arms and turned around. “The gift. So we’re back to the gift. I thought we were done with this nonsense. I don’t have the gift!”

She knitted her fingers together. “Richard please, let’s just get away. If a wizard was afraid of the Sisters of the Light . . . Let’s just get away from here.”

“And what if they follow? What if they catch up with us when the headache has me flat on my back, when I’m defenseless?”

“Richard, I don’t know anything about them. But if a wizard is that afraid of them . . . What if we are defenseless right now?”

“I am the Seeker. I am not defenseless. But I might be later. Better to meet them on my terms than theirs. And I’m tired of hearing about the gift! I don’t have it and I’m going to put an end to this nonsense right now.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. I guess the Seeker and the Mother Confessor are not without defenses.”

He gave her a stern look. “You’re not coming.”

“Do you have a rope?”

Richard frowned. “No. Why?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You will have a hard time stopping me if you don’t have a rope to tie me up.”

“Kahlan, I’m not letting you . . .”

“And I’m not giving you a chance to have a look at a woman you might fancy more than me, without being there to give her a whack.”

He watched her with an exasperated expression, and then leaned forward and kissed her. “All right. But let’s not have an ‘adventure’?”

She smiled. “We will just tell these three you don’t have the gift, send them on their way, and then I’m going to give you a serious kiss.”

The sky was darkening into a deep blue when they reached the spirit house. Three strong horses were tethered a short distance away. Their saddles were different from any she had seen before, with high pommels and cantles. As they paused in front of the door, the air was cold enough to show their breath. Richard and Kahlan gave each other a smile and a squeeze of the hand. Richard checked that the sword was clear in its scabbard. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Kahlan wore her Confessor’s face, as her mother had taught her.

The inside of the spirit house was lit by a small fire and two torches in brackets, one to each side of the fireplace. Their packs still sat to the side. The air smelled of pitch and the balsam-scented sticks that were always burned in the spirit house to make the ancestors’ spirits welcome. Torchlight flickered on the skulls of ancestors sitting on a single shelf. The dirt floor was dry, since Richard had used the spirit house to teach the Mud People to make roofs that didn’t leak.

The three women stood straight and tall in the center of the single-roomed, windowless building. Their brown, heavy wool cloaks hung almost to the ground. The hoods were up, partly shadowing their faces. They wore long, divided riding skirts of different, dark, muted colors, and simple white blouses.

They pushed back their hoods. The one in the middle, a few inches taller than the other two, but not as tall as Kahlan, had brown hair with some curl and body to it. The one to her right had straight, black, shoulder length hair, and the other’s was curly, short, and dark, with streaks of gray. Each had her hands clasped at ease in front of her.

It was the only thing at ease about them. Their mature faces wore looks that reminded Kahlan of the headmistress of the maidservants back in Aydindril. It was a countenance of authority they appeared to have held so long that it had worn permanent creases. Kahlan took a second glance at their hands to see if they were empty; they looked like they should be carrying switches. Their eyes watched, as if ready to silence any impudence.

The woman in the middle spoke. “You two are Richard’s parents?” Her voice wasn’t quite as harsh as Kahlan expected, but still carried a clear tone of authority.

Richard glowered at them, looking as if just his look might push the three back a pace. He waited until the glare caused them to blink, before he spoke. “No. I am Richard. My parents are dead. My mother since I was young, and my father since the end of summer.”

The three exchanged sidelong glances.

Kahlan saw the anger in his eyes. He was bleeding magic from the sword without even drawing it. She could tell the sword was only a blink away from coming out. She could see by the look in his eyes that he would not hesitate if these women did anything wrong.

“That is not possible,” the taller one in the center said. “You are . . . old.”

“Not as old as you,” Richard snapped.

Their cheeks colored. The woman’s eyes flashed an angry scowl, but she quickly softened it. “We did not mean to say you are old, we meant to say you are older than we expected. I am Sister Verna Sauventreen.”

The black-haired woman to her right spoke. “I am Sister Grace Rendall.”

“I am Sister Elizabeth Myric,” the third said.

Sister Verna turned her stern expression on Kahlan. “And who would you be, child?”

Kahlan didn’t know if it was Richard’s attitude causing it, but she felt her blood heating, too. She gritted her teeth. “I am not your ‘child.’ I am the Mother Confessor.” Kahlan’s tone could carry authority, too, when she wished it to.

It was almost imperceptible, but the three flinched. Together, they bowed their heads slightly.

“Forgive us, Mother Confessor.”

The air of threat in the spirit house was still palpable. Kahlan realized her hands were fists. It came to her that she felt this way because they were a threat to Richard. She decided it was time to act like the Mother Confessor.

“Where are you three from?” she asked in an icy voice.

“We are from . . . far away.”

Kahlan’s glare was beginning to match Richard’s. “In the Midlands, a bow to the Mother Confessor is done on at least one knee.” It was a custom she almost never had any interest in enforcing, but she felt the need now.

The three leaned back as one, standing straighter. Their indignant frowns deepened.

It was enough to bring out the sword.

The distinctive ringing of steel hung in the air. Richard said nothing; he simply stood holding the sword in both hands. Kahlan could see his muscles straining to be released. The Sword of Truth’s magic danced dangerously in his eyes. She was glad his glower wasn’t directed at her; it was frightening. The three didn’t appear to be as frightened by it as she would have expected, but they turned to her, and together, went to one knee, bowing their heads again.

“Forgive us, Mother Confessor,” Sister Grace said. “We are not familiar with your customs. We meant no offense.” They kept their heads down.

Kahlan waited the appropriate period, and then added a few long seconds. “Rise, my children.”

When they came to their feet they clasped their hands in front again.

Sister Verna took a deep, impatient breath. “We are not here to frighten you, Richard. We are here to help you. Put the sword away.” The last held a harsh hint of command to it.

Richard didn’t move. “I was told you said you came for me, whatever that means, and that I must not run. I haven’t been running. I am the Seeker. I will decide when to put away the sword.”

“The Se . . .” Sister Elizabeth almost shouted. “You are the Seeker?”

The three exchanged looks again.

“State your business,” Richard said. “Now.”

Sister Grace took an impatient breath this time. “Richard, we are not here to harm you. Are you that afraid of three women?”

“Even one woman is cause enough for fear. I have learned that lesson the hard way. I no longer harbor foolish inhibitions about killing women. Last time offered: state your business, or this conversation is ended.”

She glanced to the Agiel around his neck. “Yes, we can see you have learned some lessons.” Her face softened a little. “Richard, you need our help. We have come because you have the gift.”

Richard looked at each of them before he again spoke. “You have been seriously misinformed. I don’t have the gift nor do I want anything to do with it.”

He slid the sword back into its scabbard. “I’m sorry you have come a long way for nothing.” He took Kahlan’s arm. “The Mud People don’t like outsiders. Their weapons are tipped with poison, and they are not shy about using them. I will tell them to grant you safe passage out of their land. I advise you not to test their restraint.”

Richard led Kahlan by the arm toward the door. She could feel the rage radiating from him, could see the anger in his eyes, and something else, too: his headache. She could see the pain he suffered.

“The headaches will kill you,” Sister Grace said quietly.

Richard froze in his tracks, his chest heaving as he stared ahead at nothing. “I’ve had headaches all my life. I’m used to them.”

“Not like these,” Sister Grace pressed. “We can see it in your eyes. We recognize the headaches of the gift. It’s our job.”

“There is a healer here who is taking care of them. She is very good. She has already helped me, and I am confident she will soon cure me of them.”

“She can’t. No one can but us. If you don’t let us help you, the headaches will kill you. That is why we’re here; to help you, not to bring you to harm.”

Richard’s hand stretched for the latch. “You needn’t concern yourselves about me. I’m not cursed with the gift. Everything is under control. Safe journey to you, ladies.”

Kahlan gently put her hand on his arm, preventing him from reaching the latch. “Richard,” she whispered. “Maybe we should at least listen to them. What harm can there be in listening to them? Perhaps you could learn something useful to help the headaches.”

“I don’t have the gift! I don’t want anything to do with magic! Magic has caused me nothing but trouble, nothing but pain. I don’t have the gift and I don’t want it.” He reached for the latch again.

“And I suppose you are going to tell us that your eating habits haven’t changed, all of a sudden,” Sister Grace said. “I would say in just the last few days.”

Richard froze again. “Everyone has changes in mood about what they want to eat.”

“Has anyone watched you sleep?”

“What?”

“If anyone has watched you sleep, they will have noticed that you now sleep with your eyes open.”

Kahlan felt a cold wave of goose bumps. Everything was starting to connect. Wizards all had odd, specific eating habits, and they all slept with their eyes open, sometimes; even those without the gift. In those with the gift, like Zedd, it was more often.

“I don’t sleep with my eyes open. You are wrong.”

“Richard,” Kahlan whispered, “maybe we should listen to them. Hear what they have to say.”

He looked to her, as if pleading for her to help him escape this. Pleading for her help. “I don’t sleep with my eyes open.”

“Yes, you do.” She put a hand on his arm. “I have seen you sleeping for months as we were trying to stop Rahl. When I stood watch, I often saw you sleep. Only since we left D’Hara have I seen you sleep with your eyes open, just like Zedd does.”

Richard still had his back to the three women. “What do you want? How can you help me with the headaches?” he called to them.

“If we are to discuss this, we are not going to talk to the back of your head.” Sister Verna’s tone was like one used when talking to an obstinate child. “You will address us properly.”

It was the wrong tone to use on Richard at that moment. He yanked the door open and slammed it as he went out.

Kahlan thought the door might come off its hinges, but it didn’t. She felt heartsick about what she had said to him. He had wanted her to take his side; he was in no mood to hear the truth.

She was puzzled by his attitude. Richard was not one to avoid the truth. But he was deathly afraid of something. She turned and looked at the three women.

Sister Grace separated her hands and let them hang at her sides. “This is no game, Mother Confessor. If he isn’t helped by us, he is going to die. He doesn’t have much time.”

Kahlan nodded, her anger gone, replaced by an empty sadness. “I will go talk to him,” she said in a small voice that was almost lost in the large room. “Please wait here. I will bring him back.”

Richard was sitting on the ground, leaning against the short wall, right under where his sword had cut a swath the night before when the screeling had come. His elbows were on his knees, his hands over his head, fingers locked together. He didn’t look up. Kahlan sat tight against him.

“Your head hurts pretty bad right now, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. She pulled the dry shaft of a weed and held it between her hands as she rested her forearms on her knees. As if what she had said reminded him, he took some leaves out of his shirt pocket and put them in his mouth.

Kahlan stripped a little leaf off the stem. “Richard, tell me, what are you afraid of?”

He chewed the leaves a moment, and then lifted his head, leaning back. “Do you remember when the screeling came, and I said I sensed it, and you said maybe it was just that I heard it?” She nodded. “When I killed that man today, I sensed him too, just like the screeling. It was just the same. Danger. I didn’t know what either was, but I sensed the danger. I knew there was trouble, but I didn’t know what kind.”

“What does that have to do with the three in there?”

“Before we went in the spirit house, to see those women, I had the same sensation: danger. I don’t know what it means, but it’s the same feeling. Somehow, I know those women are going to come between us.”

“Richard, you don’t know that. They said only that they want to help you.”

“I do know. Just as I knew the screeling was there, and the man with the spear was there. These women are somehow a danger to me.”

Kahlan felt a lump growing in her throat. “You also said you know the headaches might kill you. Richard, I’m afraid for you.”

“And I’m afraid of magic. I hate magic. I hate the magic of the sword. I wish I could be rid of it. You can’t imagine the things I’ve had to do with it. You don’t know what it took to turn the blade white. Darken Rani’s magic killed my father, and took my brother. It hurt a great many people.” He let out a deep breath. “I hate magic.”

“I have magic,” she said softly.

“And it almost kept us apart forever.”

“But it didn’t. You figured out how to make it work. Without my magic, I would never have met you.” She rubbed his arm. “Magic also gave Adie back her foot, and has helped a lot of others. Zedd is a wizard; he has the gift. Would you say that is bad? Zedd has always used his gift to help people.

“Richard, you have magic too. You have the gift. You as much as admitted it. You used it to sense the screeling. You saved me. You used it to sense the man that was going to kill Chandalen. You saved him.”

“I don’t want to have magic.”

“It seems to me you are thinking of the problem, and not the solution. Isn’t that what you always say: think of the solution, not the problem?”

Richard thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He let out an exasperated breath. “Is this what being married to you is going to be like? For the rest of my life, you always telling me when I’m being stupid?”

She smiled. “Would you have me let you delude yourself?”

He scrubbed his hands on his face. “I guess not. My head hurts so much, I guess it’s keeping me from thinking straight.”

“Then let’s do something about it? Let’s go in and at least talk to the sisters, and hear what they have to say? They said they want to help.”

He gave her a dark look. “So did Darken Rahl.”

“Running away is not the solution. You didn’t run from Darken Rahl.”

He looked at her a long moment and then nodded. “I’ll listen.”

The three were standing where Kahlan had left them. They gave her small smiles of appreciation, apparently pleased she had brought him back. Richard and Kahlan stood close together in front of the three women.

“We will listen—listen—to what you have to say about my headaches.”

Sister Grace looked to Kahlan. “Thank you for your help, Mother Confessor, but we will speak with Richard alone now.”

Richard’s anger flared again, but he kept his tone in check. “Kahlan and I are to be married.” The three gave each other the look again. It was a little more serious this time. “What you have to say to me affects her, too. If you want to talk to me, she will stay and hear it too. Both of us, or neither. Choose.”

The looks were still passing between the three. At last Sister Grace spoke.

“Very well.”

“And the first thing you should know is that I don’t like magic, and I’m not convinced I have the gift. If I do, I am not pleased about it, and only want to be rid of it.”

“We are not here to please you; we are here to save your life. To do that we must teach you to use the gift. If you don’t learn to control it, it will kill you.”

“I understand. I had a similar problem with the Sword of Truth.”

“The first thing you must learn,” Sister Verna said, “is that just as the Mother Confessor is to be treated with deference, so are we. We have worked long and hard to become Sisters of the Light, and expect to be treated with due respect. I am Sister Verna, this is Sister Grace, and this is Sister Elizabeth.”

Richard glared at them. At last, he bowed his head. “As you wish, Sister Verna.” He regarded each in turn. “And who are the Sisters of the Light?”

“We are the ones who train wizards, those with the gift.”

“Where are the Sisters of the Light from?”

“We all live and work at the Palace of the Prophets.”

Kahlan frowned. “Sister Verna, I’ve never heard of the Palace of the Prophets. Where is it?”

“In the city of Tanimura.”

Kahlan’s frown deepened. “I know every city in the Midlands. I’ve never heard of Tanimura.”

Sister Verna held Kahlan’s gaze for a moment. “Nonetheless, that is where we are from.”

“Why were you surprised when you found out how old I am?”

“Because,” Sister Grace said, “it is almost unheard of for one with the gift not to come to our attention when he is still young.”

“How young?”

“At the very most, a third your age.”

“And why do you think I did not come to your attention?”

“Obviously, you have been hidden from us, somehow.”

Kahlan recognized that Richard was slipping into his Seeker’s role, seeking answers to his questions before he gave them anything they wanted.

“Did you train Zedd?”

“Who?”

“Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, wizard of the First Order.”

The look passed between them again. “We don’t know First Wizard Zorander.”

“I thought it was your business to know of ones with the gift, Sister Verna?”

They stiffened. “You know this wizard of the First Order?”

“I do. Why don’t you?”

“Is he old?” Richard nodded. “Perhaps he was before our time.”

“Perhaps.” Richard, with a fist on his hip, strolled a few steps away and stopped with his back to them. “How do you know about me? Sister Elizabeth.”

“It is our business to know about those with the gift: wizards. Though you were obviously hidden from us, when you triggered the gift, we knew.”

“What if I don’t want to be a wizard?”

“That is your business. Ours is to teach you to control the magic. We are not here to force you to be a wizard, only to help you control the magic so you will live. Then you may be what you wish.”

Richard marched back and put his face close to Sister Verna. “How do you know I have the gift?”

“We are the Sisters of the Light. It is our business to know.”

“You thought I would be young. You thought I would be with my parents. You didn’t know I was the Seeker. You don’t know who the First Wizard is. You seem to be slipping in your business. Besides these errors, perhaps you are also mistaken about me having the gift, Sister Verna? Your mistakes do not inspire confidence. Does your position of respect tolerate such mistakes?”

Each woman’s face was crimson. Sister Verna controlled her voice with an effort. “Richard, our job, our calling, is to help those with the gift. We have devoted our lives to it. We are from far away. What we have learned has been done at a great distance. We don’t have all the answers. The matters you speak of are not important. What is important is that you have the gift, and if you don’t let us help you, you will die.

“One reason we help those with the gift when they are young, and we wanted to see your parents, is because of the very difficulty we are having right now. If we can talk to the parents, we can help them see what is best for their son. Parents are more interested in the well-being of their children than one of your age is in himself. Teaching one of your age is going to be difficult. People are more easily taught when they are young.”

“Before they are able to think for themselves, Sister Verna?” She was silent. “I will ask again. How do you know I have the gift?”

Sister Grace smoothed her straight black hair. “When one is born with the gift, it lies dormant, and is harmless. We strive to find these boys when they are young. We have a number of ways of knowing who they are. It has happened that one with the gift does things that trigger its growth, its evolution. When that happens it becomes a threat to them. How you managed to slip by our knowledge is something we can’t answer.

“Once triggered, the power begins to evolve. It cannot be stopped. It must be mastered or you will die. This is what has happened to you. It is exceedingly rare for it to happen this way. To be honest, though we have been taught it has happened before, none of us has personal knowledge of it.

“Back at the Palace of the Prophets there will be old records of this in others, and we will look into it. But that doesn’t change what matters: you have the gift, it has been triggered, and the evolution has begun.

“We have never had to teach one of your age before. I fear the trouble it is going to cause at the palace. Teaching the gift requires discipline. One of your age has obvious difficulty with this.”

Richard softened his tone, but his gaze hardened. “Sister Grace, I will ask for the last time. How do you know I have the gift?”

She stood up a little straighter and let out a noisy breath. She nicked a glance to Sister Verna. “Tell him.”

Sister Verna gave a resigned nod and pulled a small black book from behind her belt. With a frown, she began leafing through it. “Those with the gift have some use of it throughout their life, in little ways, even though it lies dormant. Perhaps you have noticed how you could do some things that others could not, yes? The evolution of the gift is triggered by the specific use of the magic. Once triggered, it cannot be undone. This is what you have done.”

She continued turning pages, running her finger down them. “Ah. Here it is.” She lowered the book and looked up. “There are three things that must be done, in a specific manner, to trigger the gift. We don’t fully understand the precise nature of these things, but we understand their general principles. You have done these three things. First, you must use the gift to save another. Second, you must use the gift to save yourself. Third, you must use the gift to kill another with the gift. Perhaps you can see the difficulty in accomplishing them, and why we haven’t seen this before?”

“And what is written about me in that book?”

She looked once more to the book, then glanced up, lifting an eyebrow, to make sure he was paying attention before consulting the pages as she spoke. “First, you used the gift to save the life of one who was being pulled back into the underworld. Not physically, but by her mind. You drew her back. Without you, she would have been lost.” She looked up from under her eyebrows. “You understand, yes?”

Kahlan looked at Richard. They both understood. She was the one he had saved. “In the wayward pine,” she said, “the first night we met. When you kept the underworld from taking me back.”

Richard nodded to Sister Verna. “Yes, I understand.”

Sister Verna put her finger back to the book. “As for saving yourself with the gift . . . let’s see . . . I saw it here a minute . . . ah! Yes, here it is.” She looked up from under her eyebrows again. “Second, you used the gift to save your own life.” She tapped the book with a finger. “You partitioned your mind. You understand, yes?”

Richard’s eyes closed. “Yes, I understand,” he said in a weak voice. Kahlan didn’t understand that one.

Sister Verna went back to the book. “Third, you used the gift to kill a wizard. His name was Darken Rahl. You understand, yes?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes. “How do you know these things?”

“The things you have done used magic, specific magic, that leaves an essence because of who you are and because you are untrained. Were you trained, it would not leave this essence, and we would not know. We have ones back at the Palace of the Prophets who are sensitive to such events.”

Richard glared at her. “You have violated my privacy, spied on me. And as for the third of your three things, I didn’t exactly kill Darken Rahl. Not technically.”

“I can understand how you feel,” Sister Grace said quietly. “But it is only done to help you. If you wish to stand here and argue with us about whether or not these things qualify as the three triggers, I will put your doubts at ease. Once they are done, you begin the process of becoming a wizard. You may not believe it, or choose to be a wizard, but there is no doubt it has happened. We do not place this burden on you. We are only here to help you deal with it.”

“But . . .”

“But nothing. When the magic is triggered, at least three changes come about. First, you begin to have fetishes about food. It may be things you crave, or things you have always eaten that you now refuse to eat. We have studied this, and don’t understand its cause, but it has something to do with influences at the time the gift comes to life.

“Second, you begin to sleep, at least some of the time, with your eyes open. All wizards do this, even ones who only have the calling. It has something to do with learning to use the magic. If you have the gift, that brings it about as you use it to do these three things. If you have only the calling, the teaching brings it on.

“Third, the headaches come. The headaches are lethal. There is no cure for them other than learning to control the magic. If you don’t, sooner or later, they will kill you.”

“How soon? How much time do I have if I refuse your help?”

Kahlan put a hand on his arm. “Richard . . .”

“How much time!”

Sister Elizabeth spoke. “It is said that one lived with the headaches for a few years before he died. It is also said that another was dead within several months. We believe the time you have depends upon how strong your power is; the stronger the power, the stronger the headaches, and the shorter the time. But possibly within as little as a month they will begin to be strong enough to render you unconscious at times.”

Richard gave her an even look. “They already have been that strong.”

The three Sisters’ eyes widened, and they exchanged the look again.

“We began looking for you before you did these three things. Since we left the palace, you have done all three,” Sister Verna said. “This book is magic. When messages are written in its twin back at the palace, they appear to us here. That is how we know you have done them. How long since you have done the third—since you have killed this Darken Rahl?”

“Three days. But I was unconscious on the second night after I killed him.”

“The second . . . !” Again they gave each other the look.

His irritation was back. “Why do you keep looking at each other like that?”

Sister Verna’s voice came in a soft tone. “Because you are a very rare person, Richard. In many ways. We have never encountered so many unexpected things wrapped up in one person.”

Kahlan slipped an arm around his waist. “You’re right; he is a rare person. A person I love. What can you do to help him?” She was worried that he was frightening them and they wouldn’t want to help.

“There are specific rules he must follow. We all must; they are inviolate. There is no room for negotiation. He must put himself in our hands and must come with us to the Palace of the Prophets.” Sister Grace’s eyes were sad as she said, “Alone.”

“For how long?” Richard demanded. “How long does it take?”

Sister Grace’s black hair shone in the torchlight as she turned her head to him. “It depends on how quickly you learn. It takes as long as it takes. You have to stay until it is finished.”

Kahlan felt a tightness in her chest as Richard slipped his arm around her waist. “Can I visit him?”

Sister Grace shook her head slowly. “No. And there is more.” Her eyes flicked to the Agiel for an instant. She reached into her cloak and pulled something out. It was a ring of metal, hardly more than a hand across. Even though it seemed unbroken, Sister Grace did something and it unlatched, opening into hinged half circles. Its dull silver color reflected the firelight. She held it up in front of Richard. “This is called the Rada’Han. It is a collar. You must wear it.”

Richard took a step back, his hand coming away from Kahlan’s waist and going to his throat. His face paled and his eyes widened. “Why?” he asked in a whisper.

“The rules begin. Discussion is over.” Sister Verna and Sister Elizabeth moved behind Sister Grace as she spoke, standing with their hands at their sides as the black haired woman held the collar out in her hands. “This is no game. From now on, it can go only by the rules. Listen carefully, Richard.

“You will be offered three chances to take the Rada’Han; three chances to take our help, a Sister for each chance. There are three reasons for the Rada’Han, a Sister to reveal each. Before each offer, and chance to refuse, a different Sister will give you one of the reasons. After each reason, you will be offered the chance to accept or refuse.

“After the third refusal, as I hope you never learn, there are no more chances. You will receive no further help from the Sisters of the Light. You will die from the power of the gift.”

Richard’s hand still clutched at his throat. His voice was still hardly more than a whisper. “Why do I have to wear a collar?”

Sister Grace stiffened with authority. “No discussion. You will listen. You must put the Rada’Han around your neck yourself, of your own free will. Once it is on, you will not be able to remove it. It can only be removed by a Sister of the Light. It will stay on until we say it comes off. We will only say that when you are trained. Not before.”

Richard’s chest heaved with each labored breath. His stare was fixed on the collar. His eyes had a strange, wild, haunted look Kahlan had never seen before. She was frozen at seeing his terror, at her own terror.

Sister Grace held his eyes with a vengeance when he looked up at her. “Your first offer is at hand. Each offer comes from a different sister. The first offer comes from me.

“I, Sister of the Light, Grace Rendall, give the first reason for the Rada’Han, give the first chance to be helped. The first reason for the Rada’Han is to control the headaches and open your mind so you may be taught to use the gift.

“You now have the chance to accept or to refuse. I strongly advise you to accept the first offer of our help. Please believe me, it will only be much more difficult for you to accept the second time, and worse yet the third time.

“Please, Richard, accept the offer now, on the first of the three reasons and offers. Your life depends on this.”

She stood still, waiting. His gaze went back to the dull silver collar. He looked on the verge of panic. The room was dead quiet except for the slow crackle of the fire and the soft hiss of the torches.

He looked up, and his mouth opened, but no words came as he stared unblinking at her intense gaze.

At last he blinked and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I will not wear a collar. I will never again wear a collar. For anyone. For any reason. Never.”

She straightened a little, lowering the collar, looking genuinely surprised. “You refuse the offer and the Rada’Han?”

“I refuse.”

Sister Grace stood a while, staring with what seemed to be a mix of sadness and worry. Pale, she turned to the two Sisters behind her. “Forgive me, Sisters, I have failed.” She handed the Rada’Han to Sister Elizabeth. “It is upon you now.”

“The Light forgives you,” Sister Elizabeth whispered as she kissed Sister Grace on each white cheek.

“The Light forgives you,” Sister Verna whispered, giving the same kisses.

Sister Grace turned back to Richard, her voice less steady. “May the Light cradle you always with gentle hands. May you someday find the way.”

Holding Richard’s gaze, she brought her hand up, giving it a flick. A knife appeared from her sleeve. But rather than a blade, it had what seemed to be a pointed, round rod coming from the silver handle.

Richard leapt back, drawing the sword in one swift, smooth motion. Its distinctive ring sounded in the air.

Deftly, Sister Grace flipped the knife in her hand so it stopped with the blade pointing not toward Richard, but toward herself. She held it with practiced grace, without taking her eyes from Richard.

And then she plunged the knife between her breasts.

There was a flash of light that seemed to come from within her eyes, and she collapsed to the ground, dead.

Richard and Kahlan both took a step back in wide-eyed shock and horror. Sister Verna bent and pulled the knife from the dead woman. She stood and looked at Richard.

“As we told you: this is no game.” She slipped the silver knife into her cloak. “You must bury her body yourself. If you let another do it for you, you will have nightmares for the rest of your life; nightmares caused by magic. There is no cure for them. Don’t forget, you must bury her yourself.” Both Sisters pulled their hoods up. “You have been offered the first of three chances, and refused. We will return.”

The two Sisters glided to the door and were gone.

The sword’s point slowly settled to the ground. Richard stared at the dead woman, tears running down his face.

“I won’t wear a collar again,” he whispered to no one but himself. “Not for anyone.”

With labored movements, he retrieved a small shovel and a handle from his pack, and hooked them onto his belt. He then rolled Sister Grace onto her back, folded her hands across her, and lifted her lifeless form in his arms. One arm slipped from its place, loose, swinging. Her head hung down, limp. Her dead eyes stared. Black hair dangled. There was a small blossom of blood on the front of her white blouse.

Richard’s pained eyes sought Kahlan. “I’m going to bury her. I would like to go alone.”

Kahlan nodded and watched him shoulder the door open. After it had been pushed shut, she sank to the ground and started crying.