Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 31

It was his mother.

Richard felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. His whole body went rigid. His rage flinched, and the anger dropped its grip from him, recoiling at the idea of lethal intent and his mother in the same mental image.

“Richard.” She smiled sadly at him, showing in that smile how much she loved and missed him.

His mind raced, trying to grasp what was happening, unable to fit what he was seeing with what he knew. This couldn’t be. It was simply impossible.

“Mother?” he breathed in a whisper.

Arms he knew, remembered, slipped around him, comforted him, brought tears to his eyes, a lump to his throat.

“Oh, Richard,” she said soothingly, “how I’ve missed you.” She ran her fingers through his hair, gentling him. “How I’ve missed you so.”

Reeling, he fought to regain control of his emotions. He struggled to focus his mind an Kahlan. He couldn’t let her down again, let himself be fooled again. She was in this trouble because he had allowed himself to be fooled. This wasn’t his mother, it was Shota, a witch woman. But what if he was somehow wrong?

“Richard, why have you come to me?”

Richard put his hands on her small shoulders, gently pushing her back a little. Her hands slipped to his waist, squeezing with familiar affection. She was not his mother, he forced himself to say in his mind, she was a witch woman, a witch woman who knew where the last box of Orden was, and he had to know the answer to that. But why would she be doing this? And what if he was wrong? Could this somehow be true?

His finger went to the little scar above her left eyebrow, tracing the familiar bump. A scar he had put there. He had been at swordplay with Michael, with their wooden swords, and had just jumped off the bed, taking a foolish and wild swing at his older brother, when his mother came through the door. His sword had caught her across the forehead. Her cry had terrified him.

Even the whipping his father had given him didn’t hurt as much as the thought of what he had done to his mother. His father had sent him to bed without supper, and that night, when it was dark, she had come to sit on the side of his bed, run her fingers through his hair as he cried. He had sat up and asked her if it hurt a lot. She had smiled at him and said . . .

“Not as much as it hurts you,” the woman in front of him whispered.

Richard’s eyes went wide—bumps ran up his arms. “How do you . . .”

“Richard,” came an even, cautioning voice from behind him, jolting him again. “Stand away from her.” It was Zedd’s voice.

His mother’s hand cupped the side of his face. He ignored it and turned his head, looking back up the road, to the top of the rise. It was Zedd, or at least he thought it was Zedd. It looked just like Zedd, but then, this looked just like his mother. Zedd was standing there, with a look he recognized, a look of cold danger, warning.

“Richard,” came Zedd’s voice again. “Do as I say. Stand away from her. Now.”

“Please, Richard,” his mother breathed, “don’t leave me. Don’t you know me?” Richard turned to her soft face.

“Yes. You are Shota.”

He took her wrists, pulled her hands from his waist, and stepped back from her. Near tears, she watched him move away.

Suddenly, she spun toward the wizard. Her hands snapped up. With an earsplitting crack, blue lightning erupted from her fingers, streaking toward Zedd, The wizard’s hands instantly brought up a shield, like glass, reflecting light in its gloss. The lightning from Shota hit it with a thunderous peal and glanced off, striking a huge oak, snapping its trunk in a shower of splinters. The tree crashed to earth. The ground shuddered.

Zedd’s hands were already up. Wizard’s fire shot from his curled fingers. It shrieked as it came, tumbling through the air with howling fury.

“No!” Richard screamed.

The ball of liquid flame harshly illuminated the shady area with intense blue and yellow light.

He couldn’t let this happen! Shota was the only way to find the box! The only way to stop Rahl!

The fire wailed as it expanded, heading right for Shota. She stood motionless.

“No!” Richard yanked the sword free and jumped in front of her. Gripping the hilt in one hand, the point in the other, with arms locked, he held it up horizontally in front of himself, as a shield.

The magic raced through him. Wrath took him. The fire was upon him. The roar filled his ears. He turned his face, closed his eyes, held his breath and gritted his teeth, fully expecting that he might die. But there was no choice. The witch woman was their only chance. He couldn’t let her be killed.

The impact staggered him back a step. He felt the heat. Even with his eyes tightly closed, he could see the light. The wizard’s fire wailed in rage as it struck the sword, exploding around him.

And then there was silence. He opened his eyes. The wizard’s fire was gone. Zedd wasted no time. Already he was throwing a handful of magic dust. It sparkled as it came. Richard saw something coming from behind him, magic dust from the witch woman. It shimmered like ice crystals, taking the sparkle from Zedd’s dust, and slammed into him.

Zedd stood frozen, unmoving, one hand in the air.

“Zedd!”

There was no reply. Richard spun to the witch woman. She was no longer his mother. Shota wore a wispy dress with variegated shades of gray across its gauzy surface, its folds and loose points floating in the light breeze. Her full, thick hair was a wavy auburn, her smooth skin flawless. Almond eyes shone up at him. She was as beautiful as the palace that stood behind her, the valley around her. She was so attractive, it almost took his breath away, and would have, were it not for the rage he was feeling.

“My hero,” she said in a voice that was no longer his mother’s, but silky, clear, easy. A sly smile came to her full lips. “Totally unnecessary, but it’s the thought that counts. I am impressed.”

“And who is this supposed to be? Another vision from my mind? Or is this the real Shota?” Richard was enraged. He recognized all too well the anger from the sword, but decided to keep the weapon out.

Her smile widened. “Are those clothes really you?” she teased. “Or are they something you wear for a time, to serve a purpose?’

“What’s the purpose of who you are now?”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Why, to please you, Richard. That’s all.”

“With some illusion!”

“No.” Her voice softened. “This is no illusion, it’s the way I appear to myself, most of the time anyway. This is real.”

Richard ignored her answer, pointing up the road with the sword. “What have you done to Zedd?”

She shrugged, looking away with a demure smile. “Merely prevented him from harming me. He is all right. For the moment anyway.” Almond eyes sparkled up from under her eyebrows. “I will kill him later, after you and I have talked.”

His grip on the sword tightened. “And Kahlan?”

Shota redirected her gaze to Kahlan, who stood still, pale, her mouth trembling, her eyes locked on Shota’s every move. Richard knew Kahlan feared this woman more than she feared the snakes. Shota frowned—then it melted back into her coy smile as she returned her gaze to him.

“She is a very dangerous woman.” Her eyes flashed with knowing that went well beyond the years she appeared to be.

“More dangerous than even she knows. I have to protect myself from her.” She shrugged again, deftly catching the corner of a floating wisp of her dress. When she did, the rest of the dress settled down, as if the breeze had died. “So I did that to keep her still. If she moves, they will bite her. If she doesn’t, they won’t,” Shota thought a moment. “I will kill her later, too.” Her voice seemed too gentle, too pleasant for the words she spoke.

Richard considered using the sword to take off the witch woman’s head. His rage demanded it. He visualized it powerfully in his mind, hoping Shota could see it, too. Then he put the fury down a little, but still at the ready.

“And me? Are you not afraid of me?”

Shota gave a little laugh, a smile. “A Seeker?” Her fingers went to her lips as if to try to hide her amusement. “No, I don’t think so.”

Richard could barely contain himself. “Perhaps you should be.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps in normal times. But these are not normal times. Otherwise why would you be here? To kill me? You have just saved me.” She gave him a look that said he should be ashamed of himself for saying something so stupid, then walked around him, one full turn. He turned with her, keeping the sword between them, although she seemed unconcerned by it. “These are times that demand strange alliances, Richard. Only the strong are wise enough to recognize this.” She stopped and folded her arms, appraising him with a thoughtful smile. “My hero. Why, I can’t remember the last time anyone thought to save my life.” She leaned toward him. “Very gallant. It truly was.” She slipped an arm around his waist. Richard wanted to stop her, but somehow he didn’t.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I had my motives.” He found her easy manner unnerving, and fiercely attractive. He knew he had no reason to feel attracted to her. She had just said she was going to kill his two best friends, and by Kahlan’s manner he knew it was no vain boast. Worse, he had the sword out, the sword’s anger out. He realized that even its magic was being bewitched. He felt as if he were drowning, and to his surprise, was finding the experience pleasant.

Her smile widened, making her almond eyes sparkle. “As I said, only the strong are wise enough for the alliances needed. The wizard wasn’t wise enough—he tried to kill me. She isn’t wise enough—she would also. She didn’t even want to come here. Only you were wise enough to see that these times demand an alliance such as ours.”

Richard struggled to maintain a level of outrage. “I make no alliances with those who would kill my friends.”

“Even if they try to kill me first? Have I no right to defend myself? Am I to lay down and die, because it’s your friends who would do the killing? Richard,” she said, shaking her head with a frown and a smile, “think about what you are saying. Look at it from my eyes.”

He thought about it, but said nothing. She gave his waist an affectionate squeeze.

“But you were very gallant. You, my hero, have done a very rare thing. You have put your life at risk for me, a witch woman. That kind of thing does not go unrewarded. You have earned a wish. Anything you want, simply name it, and it will be granted.” With her free hand she made gliding motions in the air. “Anything, on my word.”

Richard started to open his mouth, but Shota put a finger gently to his lips. Her warm body, firm beneath the thin dress, pressed against him. “Don’t spoil my opinion of you by answering too quickly. You may have anything you want. Don’t waste the wish. Think it over carefully before you ask. It’s an important wish, offered for a reason, and perhaps the most important wish you will ever have. Haste could mean death.”

Richard was seething, in spite of how strangely attracted he was to this woman. “I don’t have to think it over. My wish is for you not to kill my friends. To leave them unharmed, and let them go.”

Shota sighed. “I’m afraid that would complicate things.”

“Oh? So, your word means nothing?”

She gave him a reproachful glare. Her voice had a hint of harshness to it. “My word means everything. I simply want you to know it would complicate matters. You came here for the answer to an important question. You have a wish coming. You have merely to ask the question as your wish, and I will grant it.

“Isn’t that what you really want? Ask yourself what’s more important—how many will die if you fail in your duty.” She squeezed his waist again, her beautiful smile returning. “Richard, the sword is confusing you. The magic is interfering with your judgment. Put it away, then think again. If you are wise, you will heed my warning—it is not without reason.”

Richard angrily thrust the sword back into its scabbard to show her he wouldn’t change his mind. He looked back at Zedd, standing frozen in place. He looked over at Kahlan, snakes writhing all over her. When their eyes met, his heart ached for her. He knew what Kahlan wanted him to do—he could see it in her eyes—she wanted him to use the wish to find the box. Richard turned away from her, unable to witness her torment another moment. He regarded Shota with determination.

“I’ve put the sword away, Shota. It changes nothing. You are going to answer my question anyway. Your life, too, depends upon my knowing the answer. You have as much as admitted it. I’m not wasting my wish. To use it to get an answer you already intend to give me would be a waste of my friends’ lives. Now, grant my wish!”

Shota regarded him with ancient eyes. “Dear Richard,” she said softly, “a Seeker needs his anger, but don’t let it fill your head to the exclusion of wisdom. Do not judge too quickly actions you do not fully understand. Not all acts are as they seem. Some are meant to save you.”

Her hand came up slowly to the side of his face, reminding him again of his mother. Her gentleness made him feel calm, and somehow sad. In that moment, he felt his fear of her wane.

“Please, Shota,” he whispered. “I have made my wish. Grant it.”

“Your wish, dear Richard, is granted,” she said in a sad whisper.

He turned to Kahlan. The snakes were still on her. “Shota, you made a promise.”

“I promised I would not kill her, and that she could leave. When you go, she may go with you, I will not kill her. But she is still a danger to me. If she remains still the snakes will not harm her.”

“You said Kahlan would have tried to kill you. That isn’t true—she guided me here seeking your help, the same as me. Even though she intended you no harm, you would have killed her. And now you do this to her!”

“Richard,” she touched a finger to her chin, thinking, “you come here thinking me evil, didn’t you? Even though you knew nothing of me, you were ready to bring harm to me, based on what you invented in your head. You have committed to belief that which you have heard from others.” There was no malice in her voice. “People who are jealous or afraid say these things. People also say that to use fire is wrong, and that those who use fire are evil. Does that make it true? People say the old wizard is evil, and that people die because of him. Does that make it true? Some of the Mud People say you brought death to their village. Does that make it true, because fools say it is so?”

“What kind of person would try to make me think she was my dead mother?” he asked bitterly.

Shota looked genuinely hurt. “Do you not love your mother?”

“Of course.”

“What greater gift could anyone give, than the return of a passed loved one? Did it not give you joy to see your mother again? Did I ask for anything in return? Did I demand payment? For a moment, I gave you something beautiful, pure, a living memory of your love for your mother, and hers for you, at a cost to myself you could never fathom, and you see this, too, as evil? And in payment, you would think to take my head off with your sword?”

Richard swallowed hard, but didn’t answer. He looked away from her eyes, feeling suddenly, unexpectedly, ashamed.

“Is your mind that poisoned by the words of others? Their fears? All I ask is to be judged by my deeds, to be seen for who I am, not what others say of me. Richard, don’t be a soldier in this silent army of fools.”

Richard stood speechless at hearing the words of his own beliefs coming back at him.

“Look around,” Shota said, sweeping her hand through the air. “Is this a place of ugliness? Evil?”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Richard admitted in a soft voice. “But that doesn’t prove anything, and what about the place up there?” He pointed with his chin, toward the dark wood above.

She took a brief glance. “Think of it as my moat.” Shota smiled proudly. “It keeps away fools who would harm me.”

Richard saved the hardest question for last. “And what of him?” He glanced toward the shadows, where Samuel sat, watching, with glowing yellow eyes.

She held Richard’s gaze as she spoke, her voice heavy with regret. “Samuel, come here.”

The disgusting creature skittered across the grass, to his mistress’s side, pushing against her, making an odd, throaty gurgle. Samuel’s eyes locked on the sword, and stayed there. Her hand reached down, stroking his gray head affectionately. Shota gave Richard a warm, brave smile.

“I guess a formal introduction is in order. Richard, may I introduce Samuel, your predecessor. The former Seeker.”

Richard looked down, wide-eyed, speechless, to the companion.

“My sword! Gimme!” Samuel started to reach out. Shota spoke his name in caution without taking her gaze from Richard, and the little creature instantly withdrew his arms, nuzzling back against her hip. “My sword,” he complained to himself in a low voice.

“Why does he look like that?” Richard asked cautiously, afraid of the answer.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Shota lifted an eyebrow as she studied his face. Her sad smile returned. “The magic. Did the wizard not warn you?”

Richard shook his head slowly, unable to form words. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Well, I suggest you have a talk with him.”

He forced himself to speak, but barely. “You mean, the magic will do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, Richard, I can’t answer that.” She gave a heavy sigh. “One of my talents is that I have vision for the flow of time, the way events flow into the future. But this is a type of magic, wizard’s magic, that I cannot see—I am blind to it. I can’t see how it flows forward.

“Samuel was the last Seeker. He came here many years back, desperate for help. But I could do nothing for him, other than take pity on him. Then the old wizard came, suddenly, one day, and took the sword.” She lifted an eyebrow meaningfully. “It was a very unpleasant experience—for both of us. I’m afraid I must admit I do not think kindly of the old wizard.” Her face softened again. “To this day, Samuel thinks of the Sword of Truth as his. But I know better. The wizards, for all ages, are the caretakers of the sword, and therein its magic, and only assign it to mere Seekers for a time.”

Richard remembered Zedd telling him that while the last pretend Seeker was distracted by a witch woman, he had gone and taken the sword back. This was the Seeker—this was the witch woman. Kahlan was wrong. There was at least one wizard who would dare to go into Agaden Reach.

“Maybe, it’s because he wasn’t a real Seeker,” Richard managed, trying to reassure himself. His tongue still felt thick.

Her face was set in a frown of true concern. “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

“That must be it,” he whispered. “It has to be. Zedd would have warned me otherwise. He’s my friend.”

She gave him a grave expression. “Richard, there are more important things at stake than friendship. Zedd knows this, and so do you—after all, you chose these things over his life when you had to.”

Richard looked up at Zedd. How he wanted to talk to him. He needed him so badly right now. Could that be true, could he have chosen the box over Zedd’s life that easily, without a second thought? “Shota, you promised to let him go.”

Shota’s eyes studied his face a moment. “I’m sorry, Richard.” She waved her hand through the air in the direction of Zedd. Zedd wavered, and then disappeared. “That was only a little deception. A demonstration. It wasn’t really the old wizard.”

Richard thought he should feel angry, but he didn’t. He felt just a little hurt at the deception, yet sad that Zedd wasn’t here, with him. Then a wave of icy dread washed through him, raising bumps on his arms again.

“Is that really Kahlan? Or have you already killed her, and presented me with her image, another trick? Another demonstration?”

Shota’s breast rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “I’m afraid,” she sighed, “that she is real enough. And therein lies the problem.”

Shota put her arm through his, taking him to stand in front of Kahlan. Samuel followed and stood by them. His arms were so long that as he stood erect, his yellow eyes moving warily back and forth between them, he casually drew lines and circles in the dirt of the road with his fingers.

Shota regarded Kahlan for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, as if pondering a dilemma. Richard just wanted the snakes off her. Despite the witch woman’s words of help and friendship, Kahlan was still terrified, and it wasn’t the snakes. It was Shota that her eyes followed, the way the eyes of an animal in a trap follow the trapper, not the trap.

“Richard,” Shota asked, while she held Kahlan’s stare, “would you be able to kill her if you had to? If she was a threat to your success, would you have the courage to kill her? If it meant the lives of everyone else? The truth, now.”

Despite the disarming tone of Shota’s voice, her words went through him like an ice dagger. Richard met Kahlan’s widening eyes, then looked to the woman beside him. “She is my guide. I need her,” he said simply, offhandedly.

Big almond eyes stared back at him. “That, Seeker, is not the question I asked.”

Richard didn’t say anything—he tried to betray nothing with his face.

Shota gave a smile of regret. “As I thought. And that is why you made a mistake with your wish.”

“I made no mistake,” Richard protested. “If I hadn’t used it as I did, you would have killed her!”

“Yes,” Shota nodded grimly, “I would have. The image of Zedd was a test. You passed the test, and as a reward, I gave you a wish, not that you might have something you want, but that I might do an onerous deed for you, because you lack the required courage. That was your second test. That test, dear boy, you failed. I must honor your wish. That is your mistake—you should have let me kill her for you.”

“You’re mad! First you try to tell me how you’re not evil, how I should judge you by your actions, and now you prove your true self by telling me how I made a mistake by not allowing you to kill Kahlan! And for what! Some perceived threat? She has done nothing to threaten you, nor would she. She wishes only to stop Darken Rahl, same as me. Same as you!”

Shota listened patiently until he finished. The timeless look passed across her eyes again. “Were you not listening when I said not all acts are as they seem? That some are meant to save you? Once again you judge too quickly, without knowing all the facts.”

“Kahlan is my friend. That is the only fact that matters.”

Shota took a breath, as if she were trying to remain patient, as if she were trying to teach something to a child. Her expression made him feel somehow stupid.

“Richard. Listen to me. Darken Rahl has put the boxes of Orden in play. If he succeeds, there will be no one with the power to restrain him. Ever. A great many people will die. You. Me. It’s in my own interest to help you because you are the only one who has a chance to stop him. How, or why, I don’t know, but I can see the flow of power. You are the only one with a chance.

“That does not mean you will succeed, only that you have the chance. No matter how small, it is within you. Know also that there are forces to defeat you before you could bring your chance to bear. The old wizard does not have the power to stop Rahl. That’s why he gave you the sword. I do not have the power to stop Rahl. But I do have the power to be of aid to you. That’s all I wish to do. In so doing I help myself. I do not want to die. If Rahl wins, I will.”

“I know all this. That’s why I said you would answer my question without my having to use the wish.”

“But there are other things I know, Richard, that you do not.”

Her beautiful face studied him with a sadness that hurt. Her eyes had the same fire in them that Kahlan’s had—the fire of intelligence. Richard felt the need in her, the need to help him. He feared suddenly what it was she knew, because he realized that it wasn’t meant to hurt him, it was simply truth. Richard saw Samuel watching the sword and became aware of his own left hand, resting around the hilt, aware of how tightly he was gripping it, and how the raised letters of the word Truth were pressing painfully into his palm.

“Shota, what are these things you know?”

“The easiest first,” she sighed. “You know the way you stopped the wizard’s fire with the sword? Practice the move. I gave you that test for a reason. Zedd will use the wizard’s fire against you. Only the next time, it will be for real. The flow of time does not say who will prevail, only that you have a chance to beat him.”

Richard’s eyes widened. “That can’t be true . . .”

“True,” she said, clipping off his words, “as a tooth given by a father to show the keeper of the book, to show the truth of how it was taken.”

That rattled him to his bones.

“And no, I don’t know who the keeper is.” Her eyes burned into him. “You will have to find him yourself.”

Richard could hardly draw a breath, could hardly make himself ask the next question. “If that was the easy part, then what is the hard?”

Auburn hair tumbled off her shoulder as Shota looked away from his eyes, to Kahlan, who stood stone still while the snakes writhed on her. “I know what she is, and how it is she is a threat to me . . .” Her voice trailed off. She turned back to him. “It is obvious you do not know what she is, or perhaps you would not be with her. Kahlan has a power. Magic power.”

“That much I know,” Richard offered cautiously.

“Richard,” Shota said, trying to find the words for something she found difficult, “I am a witch woman. As I said, one of my powers is that I can see things as they will come to pass. It is one reason fools fear me.” Her face drew closer to his, uncomfortably close. Her breath smelled of roses. “Please, Richard, don’t be one of these fools—don’t fear me because of things I have no control over. I’m able to see the truth of events that will come to be—I do not dictate or control them. And just because I see them, that does not mean I’m at all happy about them. It is only by action in the present that we can change what otherwise will come to pass. Have the wisdom to use the truth to your advantage, don’t simply rail against it.”

“And what truth do you see, Shota?” he whispered.

Her eyes had an intensity that halted his breath, her voice the sharp edge of a blade.

“Kahlan has a power, and if she isn’t killed, she will use that power against you.” She watched his eyes carefully as she spoke. “There can be no doubt of the truth of this. Your sword can protect you from the wizard’s fire, but it will not protect you from her touch.”

Richard felt the stab of her words, as if they cut through his heart.

“No!” Kahlan whispered. They both looked at her, her face wrinkled with pain at Shota’s words. “I wouldn’t! Shota, I swear, I couldn’t do that to him.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. Shota stepped close to her and reached through the snakes, touching her face tenderly, to comfort her.

“If you are not killed, child, I am afraid you will.” As a tear rolled down, her thumb brushed it back. “You have already come close, once,” Shota said with surprising compassion. “Within a breath.” She nodded slightly to herself. “This is true, is it not? Tell him. Tell him if I am speaking the truth.”

Kahlan’s eyes snapped to Richard. He looked into the depths of her green eyes and remembered the three times she had touched him when he had been holding the sword, and how that touch made the magic jump in warning. The last time, with the Mud People when the shadow things had come, the magic’s reaction had been so strong that he almost put the sword through her before he realized who it was. Kahlan’s eyebrows wrinkled together, her eyes shrinking from his gaze. She bit her bottom lip as a little moan escaped her throat.

“Is this true?” Richard asked in a whisper, his heart in his throat. “Have you come within a breath of using your power against me, as Shota says?”

Kahlan’s face drained of color. She let out a loud, painful moan. She closed her eyes and cried in a long, agonizing wail, “Please, Shota. Kill me. You must. I am sworn to protect Richard, to stop Rahl. Please,” she cried in choking sobs. “It’s the only way. You must kill me.”

“I cannot,” Shota whispered. “I have granted a wish. A very foolish one.”

Richard could hardly stand the pain of seeing Kahlan like this, asking to die. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

Kahlan suddenly cried out and threw up her arms, to make the snakes bite her. Richard lunged for them, but they were gone. Kahlan held out her arms, looking for snakes that were no longer there.

“I’m sorry, Kahlan. If I were to let them bite you, it would break the wish I granted.”

Kahlan collapsed to her knees, crying with her face against the ground, her fingers digging into the earth. “I’m so sorry, Richard,” she wept. Her fists grabbed at the grass, then his pants legs. “Please, Richard,” she sobbed. “Please. I’m sworn to protect you. So many have already died. Take the sword and kill me. Do it. Please, Richard, kill me.”

“Kahlan . . . I could never . . .” He couldn’t make any more words come.

“Richard,” Shota said, nearly in tears herself, “if she isn’t killed, then before Rahl opens the boxes, she will use her power against you. There is no doubt of this. None. It cannot be changed if she lives. I granted your wish, I cannot kill her. So you must.”

“No!” he shrieked.

Kahlan wailed again in anguish and pulled her knife. As she brought it up to plunge it into herself, Richard grabbed her wrist.

“Please, Richard,” she cried, falling against him, “you don’t understand. I have to. If I live I will be responsible for what Rahl will do. For everything that will happen.”

Richard pulled her up by her wrist and held her to him with one arm as she cried, keeping her arm twisted behind her back so she couldn’t use the knife on herself. He glared angrily at Shota, who stood with her hands loose at her sides, watching. Was any of this possible? Could it be true? He wished he had listened to Kahlan and never come here.

He relaxed his pressure on Kahlan’s arm when he realized by the way she cried that he was hurting her. He wondered numbly if he should let her kill herself. His hand shook.

“Please, Richard,” Shota said, tears in her own eyes, “hate me for who I am if you will, but do not hate me for telling you the truth.”

“The truth as you see it, Shota! But maybe not the truth as it will be. I will not kill Kahlan on your word.” Shota nodded sadly, looking at him through wet eyes.

“Queen Milena has the last box of Orden.” She spoke in a voice barely more than a whisper. “But heed this warning: she will not have it for long. If, that is, you choose to believe the truth, as I see it.” She turned to her companion, “Samuel,” she said gently, “guide them out of the Reach. Do not take anything that belongs to them. I would be very displeased if you did. That includes the Sword of Truth.”

Richard saw a tear run down her cheek as she turned without looking at him and began walking up the road. She stopped in midstride and stood a moment—her beautiful auburn hair lay upon her shoulders and partway down the back of the wispy dress. Her head came up, but didn’t turn back to him.

“When this is over,” she said in a voice that broke with emotion, “and if you should happen to win . . . don’t ever come here again. If you do . . . I will kill you.”

She walked on, toward her palace.

“Shota,” he whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry.”

She did not stop or turn, but continued on.