Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 22

Zedd’s eyes popped open. The aroma of spice soup was thick in the air. Without moving, he looked cautiously about. Chase lay next to him, there were bones hung on the walls, and it was dark outside the window. He looked down at his body. Bones were piled upon him. Without moving, he carefully caused them to rise slowly into the air, then he silently made them float aside, and finally to set down. Making no sound, he rose. He was in a house full of bones, bones of beasts. He turned around.

He was surprised to come face-to-face with a woman just as she also turned around.

In a fright, they both screamed and threw their skinny arms into the air.

“Who are you?” he asked, leaning forward, peering into her white eyes.

She snatched her crutch just before it toppled over and put it back under her arm. “I be Adie,” she answered in a raspy voice. “You gave me a scare! You awoke sooner than I expected.”

Zedd straightened his robes. “How many meals have I missed?” he demanded.

Scowling, Adie looked him up and down. “Too many, by the looks of it.”

A grin creased Zedd’s cheek. He in turn eyed Adie from top to bottom. “You are a fine-looking woman,” he announced. With a bow he took her hand and kissed it lightly, then stood up proud and straight, holding one bony finger skyward. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, humbly at your whim, my dear lady.” He leaned forward. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Nothing. It be perfectly fine.”

“No, no,” he said with a frown, pointing. “Not that one, the other.”

Adie looked down at the missing foot, then back up to Zedd. “It does not go all the way to the ground. What be the matter with your eyes?”

“Well, I hope you learned your lesson—you only have one foot left, you know.” Zedd’s frown melted back to a grin. “And the problem with my eyes,” he said in his thin voice, “is that they have been famished, but now they are feasting.”

Adie smiled a little smile. “Would you like a bowl of soup, wizard?”

“I thought you would never ask, sorceress.”

He followed her as she worked her way across the room to the kettle hanging in the fireplace and, after she had dished out two bowls of soup, carried them to the table. Leaning her crutch against the wall, she sat opposite him, and cut a thick slice each of bread and cheese, pushing them across the table to him. Zedd bent over and dug right in, but stopped after one swallow of soup and looked up at her white eyes.

“Richard made this soup,” he said in an even voice, the second spoonful hanging midway between the bowl and his mouth.

Adie tore off a piece of bread and dunked it in the soup as she watched him. “That be true. You be fortunate—mine would not be this good.”

Zedd looked around as he put the spoon down in the bowl. “And where is he?”

Adie took a bite of the bread and chewed, watching Zedd. When she had swallowed, she answered. “He and the Mother Confessor have gone through the pass, to the Midlands. Although he knows her only as Kahlan—she still hides her identity from him.” She went on to tell the wizard the story of how Richard and Kahlan had come to her, seeking her help for their stricken friends.

Zedd picked up the cheese in one hand, the bread in the other, taking alternating bites as he listened to Adie’s tale, wincing at hearing that he had been sustained on gruel.

“He told me to tell you he could not wait for you,” she said, “but that he knew you would understand. The Seeker gave me instructions to pass on to Chase, for him to return and make preparations for when the boundary fails, for the coming of Rahl’s forces. He was sorry he did not know what your plan be, but feared he could not wait.”

“Just as well,” the wizard said under his breath. “My plan does not include him.”

Zedd went back to eating in earnest. When he had finished the soup, he went to the kettle and helped himself to another bowlful. He offered to get Adie more, but she was not yet finished with her first, since she had spent most of the time with her eyes on the wizard. As he sat back down, she pushed more bread and cheese at him.

“Richard keeps a secret from you,” she said in a low voice. “If it were not for this business with Rahl, I would not speak of it, but I thought you should know.”

The light from the lamp lit his thin face and white hair, making him look stark and all the more thin in the sharp shadows. He picked up his spoon, looked down at the soup a moment, then back up at her face.

“As you well know, we all have secrets, wizards more than most. If we all knew each other’s secrets, it would prove a very strange world. Besides, it would take all the fun out of the telling of them.” His thin lips widened in a smile, his eyes sparkled. “But I fear no secret of a person I trust, and he has no need to fear mine. It is part of being friends.”

Adie leaned back in her chair, her blank white eyes stared at him, her small smile came back. “For his sake, I hope you be right in your trust. I would not want to give a wizard cause to be angry.”

Zedd shrugged. “As wizards go, I’m pretty harmless.”

She studied his eyes in the lamplight.

“That be a lie,” the sorceress whispered in a low rasp.

Zedd cleared his throat, and thought to change the subject. “It would seem I owe you thanks for tending to me, dear lady.”

“That be true.”

“And for helping Richard and Kahlan”—he looked over to Chase, pointing with his spoon—“and the boundary warden too. I am in your debt.”

Adie’s smile widened. “Perhaps, someday you can return the favor.”

Zedd pushed up the sleeves of his robes and went back to eating the soup, but not quite as voraciously as before. He and the sorceress watched each other. The fire in the hearth crackled, and outside night bugs chirped. Chase slept on.

“How long have they been gone?” Zedd asked at last.

“This be the seventh day he has left you and the boundary warden to my care.”

Zedd finished his meal, pushing the bowl carefully away. He folded his thin hands on the table, looking down as he tapped his thumbs together. The light from the lamp flickered and danced on his mass of white hair.

“Did Richard say how I was to find him?”

For a moment Adie didn’t answer. The wizard continued to wait, tapping his thumbs, until at last she spoke. “I gave him a night stone.”

Zedd jumped to his feet. “You did what!”

Adie calmly looked up at him. “Would you have me send him through the pass, at night, without a way to see? To be blind in the pass is a sure death. I wanted him to make it through. It be the only way for me to help him.”

The wizard put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward, his wavy white hair falling around his face. “And did you warn him?”

“Of course I did.”

His eyes narrowed. “How? With a sorceress’s riddle?”

Adie picked up two apples and tossed one to Zedd. He caught it in the air with a silent spell. It floated, spinning slowly while he continued to glare at the old woman.

“Sit down, wizard, and stop showing off.” She took a bite of her apple, chewing slowly. Zedd sat down in a huff. “I did not want to frighten him. He already be fearful enough. Had I told him what a night stone could do, he might have been afraid to use it, and the result would have been that the underworld would have had him sure. Yes, I warned him, but with a riddle, so he would figure it out later, after he be through the pass.”

Zedd’s sticklike fingers snatched the apple out of the air. “Bags, Adie, you don’t understand. Richard hates riddles, always has. He considers them an insult to honesty. He won’t brook them. He ignores them as a matter of principle.” The apple snapped as he took a big bite.

“He be Seeker—that be what Seekers do: they solve riddles.”

Zedd held up a bony finger. “Riddles of life, not words. There is a difference.”

Adie set her apple down and leaned forward, putting her hands on the table. A look of concern softened her face. “Zedd, I was trying to help the boy. I want him to succeed. I lost my foot in the pass—he would have lost his life. If the Seeker loses his life, we all lose ours too. I did not mean him harm.”

Zedd put his apple down and dismissed his anger with a wave of his hand. “I know you meant no harm, Adie. I did not mean to suggest you did.” He took Adie’s hands in his. “It will be all right.”

“I be a fool,” she said bitterly. “He told me he disliked riddles, but I never thought more of it. Zedd, seek him through the night stone? See if he has made it through?”

Zedd nodded. He closed his eyes and let his chin sink to his chest as he took three deep breaths. Then he stopped breathing for a long time. From the air about came the low, soft sound of distant wind, wind on an open plain: lonely, baleful, haunting. The sound of the wind left at last, and the wizard began breathing again. His head came up, and his eyes opened.

“He is in the Midlands. He has made it through the pass.”

Adie gave a nod of relief. “I will give you a bone to carry, so that you may go safely through the pass. Will you go after him now?”

The wizard looked down at the table, away from her white eyes. “No,” he said in a quiet voice. “He will have to handle this, among other things, on his own. As you said, he is the Seeker. I have an important task to attend to, if we are to stop Darken Rahl. I hope he can stay out of trouble in the meantime.”

“Secrets?” the sorceress asked, smiling her little smile.

“Secrets.” The wizard nodded. “I must leave right away.”

She took one hand out from under his and stroked his leathery skin.

“It be dark outside.”

“Dark,” he agreed.

“Why not stay the night? Leave with the light.”

Zedd’s eyes snapped up, looking at her from under his eyebrows. “Stay the night?”

Adie shrugged as she stroked his hands. “It be lonely here sometimes.”

“Well,” Zedd’s impish grin lit his face, “as you say, it is dark outside. And I guess it would make more sense to start out in the morning.” A sudden frown broke out, wrinkling his brow. “This isn’t one of your riddles, is it?”

She shook her head, and his grin came back.

“I have my wizard’s rock along. Could I interest you?”

Adie’s face softened in a shy smile. “I would like that very much.” She watched him as she sat back, taking a bite of her apple.

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “Naked?”

Wind and rain bowed the long grass in broad slow waves as the two of them made their way across the open, flat plain. Trees were few and far between, mostly birch and alder in clusters along streams. Kahlan watched the grass carefully—they were near the Mud People’s territory. Richard followed silently behind, keeping her under his watchful eye, as always.

She didn’t like taking him to the Mud People, but he was right, they had to know where to look for the last box, and there was no one else anywhere near who could point them in the right direction. Autumn was wearing on, and their time was dwindling. Still, the Mud People might not help them, and then the time would be wasted.

Worse, although she knew they probably would not dare to kill a Confessor, even one traveling without the protection of a wizard, she had no idea if they would dare to kill the Seeker. She had never traveled the Midlands before without a wizard. No Confessor did—it was too dangerous. Richard was better protection than Giller, the last wizard assigned her, but Richard was not supposed to be her protection, she was supposed to be his. She couldn’t allow him to put his life at risk for her again. He was more important than she to stopping Rahl. That was what mattered, above all else. She had pledged her life in defense of the Seeker . . . in defense of Richard. She had never meant anything more ardently in her life. If a time came that called for a choice, it must be she who died.

The path through the grasses came to two poles, one set to each side of the trail. They were wrapped in skins dyed with red stripes. Richard stopped by the poles, looking up at the skulls fixed atop them.

“This meant to warn us away?” he asked as he stroked one of the skins.

“No, they are the skulls of honored ancestors, meant to watch over their lands. Only the most respected are accorded such recognition.”

“That doesn’t sound threatening. Maybe they won’t be so unhappy to see us after all.”

Kahlan turned to him and lifted an eyebrow. “One of the ways you get to be revered by the Mud People is by killing outsiders.” She looked back at the skulls. “But this is not meant as a threat to others. It is simply a tradition of honor among themselves.”

Richard took a deep breath as he withdrew his hand from the pole. “Let’s see if we can get them to help us, so they can go on revering their ancestors, and keeping outsiders away.”

“Remember what I told you,” she warned. “They may not want to help. You have to respect that if it is their decision. These are some of the people I am trying to save. I don’t want you to hurt them.”

“Kahlan, it’s not my desire or intention to hurt them. Don’t worry, they will help us. It’s in their own interest.”

“They may not see it that way,” she pressed. The rain had stopped, replaced by a light, cold mist she felt on her face. She pushed the hood of her cloak back. “Richard, promise me you won’t hurt them.”

He pushed his hood back also, put his hands on his hips, and surprised her with a little smile out of one side of his mouth. “Now I know how it feels.”

“What?” she asked, a tone of suspicion in her voice.

As he looked down at her, his smile grew. “Remember when I had the fever from the snake vine, and I asked you not to hurt Zedd? Now I know how you felt when you couldn’t make that promise.”

Kahlan looked into his gray eyes, thinking of how much she wanted to stop Rahl, and thought of all those she knew whom he had killed.

“And now I know how you must have felt when I could not make that promise.” She smiled in spite of herself. “Did you feel this foolish for asking?”

He nodded. “When I realized what was at stake. And when I realized what kind of person you were, that you wouldn’t do anything to harm anyone unless there was no choice. Then I felt foolish. For not trusting you.”

She did feel foolish for not trusting him. But she knew he trusted her too much.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the smile still on her lips. “I should know you better than that.”

“Do you know how we can get them to help us?”

She had been to the village of the Mud People several times, none of them by invitation—they would never request a Confessor. It was a common chore among Confessors, paying a professional call on the different peoples of the Midlands. They had been polite enough, out of fear, but they had made it clear that they handled their own affairs, and did not want outside involvement. They were not a people who would respond to threats.

“The Mud People hold a gathering, called a council of seers. I have never been allowed to attend, maybe because I am an outsider, maybe because I am a woman. This group divines the answers to questions that affect the village. They will not hold a gathering at sword point—if they are to help us, they must do so willingly. You must win them over.”

He gazed intently into her eyes. “With your help, we can do it. We must.”

She nodded, and turned to the path once more. Clouds hung low and thick above the grassland, seeming to boil slowly as they rolled along in an endless procession. Out on the plains, there seemed to be much more sky than there was anywhere else. It was an overpowering presence, dwarfing the unchanging, flat land.

Rains had swollen the streams until the churning, muddy water pounded and frothed with a roar at the bottoms of the crossing logs that were used as bridges. Kahlan could feel the power of the water making the logs shudder under her boots. She stepped carefully, as the logs were slippery, and there was no hand rope to aid her crossing. Richard offered her his hand, to steady her, and she was glad for the excuse to take it. She found herself looking forward to the stream crossings, to being able to take his hand. But as deeply as it hurt, she couldn’t allow herself to encourage his feelings for her. She wished so much she could just be a woman, like any other. But she wasn’t. She was a Confessor. Still, sometimes for brief moments, she could forget, and pretend.

She wished Richard would walk next to her, but he instead stayed behind, scanning the countryside, watching out for her. He was in a strange land, taking nothing for granted, seeing threat in everything. In Westland, she had felt the same way, so she understood the feeling. He was putting his life at great peril against Rahl, against things he had never encountered before, and was right to be wary. The wary died quick enough in the Midlands, the unwary faster still.

After crossing another stream and plunging back into the wet grass, eight men sprang up suddenly in front of them. Kahlan and Richard came to an abrupt halt. The men were wearing animal skins over most of their bodies. Sticky mud that didn’t wash away in the rain was smeared over the rest of their skin and faces, and their hair smoothed down with it. Clumps of grass were tied to their arms and to the skins, and stuffed under headbands, making them invisible when they had been squatted down. They stood silently in front of the two of them. All wore grim expressions. Kahlan recognized several of the men—it was a hunting party of Mud People.

The eldest, a fit, wiry man she knew as Savidlin, approached her. The others waited, spears and bows relaxed but ready. Kahlan could feel Richard’s presence close behind her. Without turning, she whispered for him to stay calm and do as she did. Savidlin stopped in front of her.

“Strength to Confessor Kahlan,” he said.

“Strength to Savidlin and the Mud People,” she answered in their language.

Savidlin slapped her across the face, hard. She slapped him back just as hard. Instantly Kahlan heard the ringing sound of Richard’s sword being pulled free. She spun on her heels.

“No, Richard!” He had the sword up, ready to strike. “No!” She grabbed his wrists. “I told you to stay calm and do as I do.”

His eyes flicked from Savidlin’s to hers. They were filled with unleashed anger, the magic that was ready to kill. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. “And if they slit your throat, would you have me let them slit mine as well?”

“That is the way they greet people. It is meant to show respect for another’s strength.”

He frowned, hesitating.

“I’m sorry I did not warn you. Richard, put the sword away.”

His eyes went from hers to Savidlin, and then back to hers again, before he yielded and angrily thrust the sword back into its scabbard. Relieved, she turned back to the Mud People as Richard stepped up protectively next to her. Savidlin and the others had been watching calmly. They didn’t understand the words, but they seemed to grasp the meaning of what had happened. Savidlin looked away from Richard, to Kahlan. He spoke in his dialect.

“Who is this man with the temper?”

“His name is Richard. He is the Seeker of Truth.”

Whispers broke out among the other members of the hunting party. Savidlin’s eyes sought Richard’s.

“Strength to Richard, the Seeker.”

Kahlan told him what Savidlin had said. There was still a hot look on his face.

Savidlin stepped up and hit Richard, not with an open hand as he had hit her, but with his fist. Immediately Richard unleashed a powerful blow of his own that knocked Savidlin from his feet and sent him sprawling on his back. He lay dazed on the ground with his limbs strewn awkwardly out. Fists tightened on weapons. Richard straightened, giving the men a dangerous look that kept them rooted firmly in place.

Savidlin propped himself up on one hand, rubbing his jaw with the other. A grin spread across his face. “None has ever shown such respect for my strength! This is a wise man.”

The other men broke out in laughter. Kahlan held her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her own. The tension evaporated.

“What did he say?” Richard demanded.

“He said you have great respect for him, that you are wise. I think you have made a friend.”

Savidlin held his hand out for Richard to help him up. Warily, Richard complied. Once on his feet, Savidlin slapped Richard on the back, putting an arm around his big shoulders.

“I am truly glad you recognize my strength, but I hope you do not come to respect me any more.” The men laughed. “Among the Mud People, you shall be known as ‘Richard With The Temper.’ ”

Kahlan tried to hold back her laughter while she translated. The men were still snickering. Savidlin turned to them.

“Maybe you men would like to greet my big friend, and have him show you his respect for your strength.”

They all held their hands out in front of themselves and shook their heads vigorously.

“No,” one of them said between fits of laughter, “he has already shown you enough respect for all of us.”

He turned back to Kahlan. “As always, Confessor Kahlan is welcome among the Mud People.” Without looking over, he gave a nod of his head, indicating Richard. “Is he your mate?”

“No!”

Savidlin tensed. “Then you have come here to choose one of our men?”

“No,” she said, her voice regaining its calmness.

Savidlin looked greatly relieved. “The Confessor chooses dangerous traveling companions.”

“Not dangerous to me, only to those who would think to harm me.”

Savidlin smiled and nodded, then looked Kahlan up and down.

“You wear odd things. Different from before.”

“Underneath, I am the same as before,” Kahlan said as she leaned a little closer to make her point. “That is what you need to know.”

Savidlin backed away a little from her intense expression and gave a nod. His eyes narrowed. “And why are you here?”

“So that we might help each other. There is a man who would rule your people. The Seeker and I would have you rule yourselves. We came seeking your people’s strength and wisdom to aid us in our fight.”

“Father Rahl,” Savidlin announced knowingly.

“You know of him?”

Savidlin nodded. “A man came. He called himself a missionary, said he wanted to teach us of the goodness of one called Father Rahl. He talked to our people for three days, until we became tired of him.”

It was Kahlan’s turn to stiffen, she glanced to the other men, who had started smiling at the mention of the missionary. She looked back to the elder’s mud streaked face. “And what happened to him after the three days?”

“He was a good man.” Savidlin smiled meaningfully.

Kahlan straightened herself. Richard leaned closer to her.

“What are they saying?”

“They want to know why we are here. They said they have heard of Darken Rahl.”

“Tell them I want to talk to their people, that I need them to call a gathering.”

She looked up at him from under her eyebrows. “I am getting to that. Adie was right, you are not a patient person.”

Richard smiled. “No, she was wrong. I am very patient, but I am not very tolerant. There is a difference.”

Kahlan smiled at Savidlin as she spoke to Richard. “Well, please do not become intolerant just now, or show them any more respect for the moment. I know what I am doing, and it is going well. Let me do it my way, all right?”

He agreed, folding his arms in frustration. She turned once more to the elder. He peered at her sharply and asked something that surprised her.

“Did Richard With The Temper bring us the rains?”

Kahlan frowned. “Well, I guess you could say that.” She was confused by the question and didn’t know what to say, so told him the truth. “The clouds follow him.”

The elder studied her face intently and nodded. She didn’t feel comfortable under his gaze, and sought to bring the conversation back to the reason for her visit.

“Savidlin, the Seeker has come to see your people on my advice. He is not here to harm or interfere with your people. You know me. l have been among you before. You know of my respect for the Mud People. I would not bring another to you unless it was important. Right now, time is our enemy.”

Savidlin considered what she had said for a while, then at last spoke.

“As I said before, you are welcome among us.” He looked up with a grin at the Seeker, then back to her. “Richard With The Temper is most welcome in our village too.”

The other men were pleased with the decision—they all seemed to like Richard. They gathered up their things, including two deer and a wild boar, each tied to a carrying pole. Kahlan hadn’t seen the result of their hunt before because it had been hidden in the tall grass. As they all started off down the path, the men gathered about Richard, touching him cautiously and jabbering questions he couldn’t understand. Savidlin clapped him on the shoulders, looking forward to showing off his big new friend to the village. Kahlan went along beside him, for the most part ignored, and happy that so far they liked Richard. She understood the feeling—it was hard to dislike him—but there was some other reason for their ready acceptance of him. She worried about what that reason could be.

“I told you I would win them over,” Richard said with a grin as he looked at her over their heads. “I just never thought I would do it by laying one of them out.”