Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  Zedd’s face was tight with hard wrinkles and determination. He leaned forward a little. “Each box holds a different power, which is released upon its opening. If Rahl opens the correct one, he gains the magic of Orden, the magic of life itself, power over all things living and dead. He will have unchallenged power and authority. He will be a master with immutable dominion over all people. Anyone he doesn’t like, he will be able to kill with a thought, in any manner of his choosing, wherever that person is, no matter how far away.”

  “Sounds like a terribly evil magic,” Richard said.

  Zedd leaned back, taking his hands from the table. He shook his head. “No, not really. The magic of Orden is the power of life. Like all power, it simply exists. It’s the user who determines what use it will be put to. The magic of Orden can just as easily be used to help crops grow, to heal the sick, to end conflict. It’s all in what the user wants. The power is neither evil nor good; it simply exists. It is up to the mind of man to put it to use. I think we all know which use Darken Rahl would choose.”

  Zedd paused, as was his way, to let Richard ponder the meaning of what he had been told. His thin face fixed in resolve as he waited. Kahlan, too, had a look that told him she was determined to have him fully understand the ominous nature of what Zedd was saying. Richard, of course, didn’t need to ponder it, since he knew it all from the Book of Counted Shadows. The book was explicit. From the book, he knew Zedd was barely touching on the full extent of the cataclysm that would sweep the land if Darken Rahl opened the correct box. He knew, also, what would happen if one of the other boxes was opened, but he couldn’t reveal his foreknowledge, and so had to ask anyway. “And if he opens one of the others?”

  Zedd came forward against the table in a blink. He had expected that this would be the next question. “Open the wrong box, and the magic claims him. He’s dead.” Zedd snapped his fingers. “Just like that. We are all safe; the threat is removed.” He leaned closer, his brow furrowed, and gave Richard a hard look. “Open the other wrong box, and every bug, every blade of grass, every tree, every man, woman, and child, every living thing, is incinerated into nothingness. It would be the end of all life. The magic of Orden is twin to the magic of life itself, and death is part of everything that lives, so the magic of Orden is tied to death, as well as life.”

  Zedd sat back, seeming to be overwhelmed by the telling of the choices of catastrophe. Though Richard already knew it all, he still swallowed hard at hearing it out loud. Somehow it seemed more real to him like this, more real when there was a name put to it. When he had learned the book, it was all so abstract, so hypothetical, that he had never given any thought to the possibility that it would come to pass. His only concern had been that the knowledge be preserved so as to be returned to its keeper. He wished he could tell Zedd what he knew, but his oath to his father prevented him from saying anything. It also required him to keep up the pretense by asking another question to which he already knew the answer.

  “How will Rahl know which box to open?”

  Zedd rearranged the sleeves of his robes and looked down at the table, watching his hands as he spoke. “Putting the boxes in play imparts to the person certain privileged information. It must be that this information tells him how he can discover which box is which.”

  That made sense. No one knew of the book but its keeper, and, it appeared, the person who put the boxes in play. The book made no reference to this, but it seemed logical. A sudden jolt went through him: Darken Rahl must be after him for the book. He almost didn’t hear Zedd beginning to speak again.

  “Rahl has done something out of the ordinary, though. He has put the boxes in play before he has all three.”

  Richard came to attention immediately. “He must be stupid, or very confident.”

  “Confident,” the wizard said. “When I left the Midlands, it was for two main reasons. The first was because the High Council took the naming of the Seeker upon itself. The second was because they mishandled the boxes of Orden. People had come to believe that the power of the boxes was just a legend. They thought me an old fool for telling them it was no legend but the truth. They refused to heed my warnings.”

  He pounded his fist down on the table, causing Kahlan to jump. “They laughed at me!” His face was red with anger, making it stand out all the more against the mass of his white hair. “I wanted the boxes kept far apart from each other, and with magic, hidden and locked away so as to never be found again. The council, instead, wanted them given to important people, like trophies to be shown off. They used them as payments for favors or promises. This exposed the boxes to covetous hands. I don’t know what happened to them in the intervening years. Rahl has at least one, but not all three. Not yet anyway.” Zedd’s eyes flashed with fervor. “Do you see, Richard? We don’t have to go up against Darken Rahl, we have only to find at least one of the boxes before he does.”

  “And keep it from him, which may prove considerably harder than finding it,” Richard pointed out, letting the words hang in the air a moment. He had a sudden thought. “Zedd, do you think one of the boxes could be here in Westland?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Why not?”

  Zedd hesitated. “Richard, I never told you I was a wizard, but you never asked before, so I didn’t really lie about it. I did tell you one lie, though. I told you I came here before the boundary went up. In reality I didn’t come here before it went up, because I couldn’t. You see, in order to create a Westland free of magic, there could be none here when the boundary went up. Magic could come here after the boundary was established, but not be here before. Since I have magic, my presence would have prevented it from happening, so I had to stay in the Midlands until after, and only then was I able to come through.”

  “Everyone has their little secrets. I don’t begrudge you yours. But what’s your point?”

  “My point is, we know none of the boxes could have been here before the boundary went up, or their magic would have prevented it. So if they were all in the Midlands before the boundary, because of the magic, and I didn’t bring one with me, they have to still be in the Midlands.”

  Richard thought about this awhile, feeling his spark of hope die. He turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  “You still have not told me what a Seeker is. Or my part in this.”

  Zedd folded his hands together. “A Seeker is a person who answers to no one but himself; he is a law unto himself. The Sword of Truth is his to wield as he wishes, and within the limits of his own strength, he can hold anyone to answer for anything.” Zedd held up his hand to forestall Richard’s objections and questions. “I realize this is vague. The problem with explaining it is that it is like all power. As I told you before, it’s how the person uses power that makes it what it is. This is the core of why it is so important to find the right person, a person who will use the power wisely. You see, Richard, a Seeker does exactly as the name implies; he seeks. He seeks the answers to things. Things of his own choosing. If he is the right person, he will seek the answers that will help others, not just himself. The whole purpose of a Seeker is to be free to quest on his own, to go where he wants, ask what he wants, learn what he wants, find answers to what he wants to know, and if need be, do whatever it is the answers demand.”

  Richard straightened, his voice rising. “Are you telling me a Seeker is an assassin?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Richard; there have been times when it has turned out that way.”

  Richard’s face was crimson. “I will not be an assassin!”

  Zedd shrugged. “As I said, a Seeker is whatever he wants. Ideally, a Seeker is the standard-bearer of Justice. I can’t tell you much more, because I’ve never been one. I don’t know what goes on in their heads; however, I know the proper kind of person.”

  Zedd pushed his sleeves up again while he watched Richard. “But I don’t pick a Seeker, Richard. A true Seeker picks himself. I only name them. You have been a Seeker for years wit
hout knowing it. I have watched you, and that is what you do. You are always seeking the truth. What do you think you were doing in the high Ven? You were seeking the answer to the vine, to your father’s murder. You could have left that to others, others more qualified, and as it turned out, perhaps you should have, but that would have been against your nature, the nature of a Seeker. They don’t leave it to others, because they want to know for themselves. When Kahlan told you she was looking for a wizard who was lost since before she was born, you had to know who it was, and you found him.”

  “But that’s only because…”

  Zedd cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. Only one thing matters: that you did it. I saved you with the root I found. Does it matter that it was easy for me to find the root? No. Would you be any more alive if it had been extremely difficult for me to find the root? No. I found the root, you are well. That is all that matters. Same with the Seeker. It’s of no importance how he finds an answer, only that he does. As I said, there are no rules. Right now there are answers you must find. I don’t know how you will do so, and I don’t care, only that you do. If you say ‘Oh, that’s simple,’ all the better, as we don’t have much time.”

  Richard’s guard went up. “What answers?”

  Zedd smiled, and his eyes sparkled. “I have a plan, but you must first find a way to get us across the boundary.”

  “What!” Richard ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, muttering his disbelief under his breath. He looked back to Zedd. “You’re a wizard; you had something to do with putting the boundary there in the first place. You have just said you have been through it to retrieve the sword. Kahlan has come through the boundary, sent by wizards. I know nothing of the boundary! If you expect me to find you the answer, well, here it is: Zedd, you are a wizard, send us through the boundary!”

  Zedd shook his head. “No. I said across the boundary, not through it. I know how to go through it, but we can’t do that. Rahl waits for us to do so. If we try to go through, he will kill us. If we are lucky. We must instead go across it, without going through it. There is a big difference.”

  “Zedd, I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. I don’t know anything about how to get us across. I don’t see how it can be done. The boundary is the underworld. If we can’t go through it, then we are stuck here. The whole purpose of the boundary is to prevent anyone from doing just what you are asking me to do.” Richard felt helpless. They were depending on him, and he didn’t have any answers.

  Zedd’s voice was kind and gentle. “Richard, you are too quick to criticize yourself. What is it you say when I ask how you must solve difficult problems?”

  Richard knew what Zedd was talking about, but was reluctant to answer, as he felt answering only pulled him in deeper. Zedd lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Richard looked down at the table, picking at the wood with his thumbnail. “Think of the solution, not the problem.”

  “And right now you are doing it backwards. You are only concentrating on why the problem is impossible. You are not thinking of the solution.”

  Richard knew Zedd was right, but there was more to it. “Zedd, I don’t think I’m qualified to be Seeker. I don’t know anything about the Midlands.”

  “Sometimes it is easier to make a decision if you aren’t burdened with a knowledge of history,” the wizard said cryptically.

  Richard let out a deep breath. “I don’t know the place. I’d be lost there.”

  Kahlan put her hand on his forearm. “No, you wouldn’t. I know the Midlands better than almost anyone. I know where it is safe and where it is not. I’ll be your guide. You will not be lost. I promise you that much.”

  Richard looked away from her green eyes and down at the table. It hurt to think that he might disappoint her, but her faith, and Zedd’s, didn’t seem justified. He didn’t know anything about the Midlands, or the magic, or how to find some boxes, or how to stop Darken Rahl. He didn’t know how to do any of it! And for his first trick, he was supposed to get them across the boundary!

  “Richard, I know you think I’m thrusting this responsibility on you unwisely, but it is not me who chooses you. You are the one who has shown himself to be the Seeker. I have only recognized the fact. I have been a wizard a long time. You don’t know what that entails, but you have to trust me when I say that I’m qualified to recognize the one.” Zedd reached across the table, across the sword, and put his hand on Richard’s. His eyes were somber. “Darken Rahl hunts you. Personally. The only reason I can fathom for this is that with the insight he has gained from the magic of Orden, he too knows you to be the one and so searches you out, to eliminate the threat.”

  Richard blinked in surprise. Maybe Zedd was right. Maybe this was the reason Rahl hunted him. Or maybe not. Zedd didn’t know about the book. He felt as if his mind would explode with all the things filling his head, and suddenly he couldn’t sit anymore. He stood up and began pacing, thinking. Zedd folded his arms across his chest. Kahlan leaned an elbow on the table. Both watched in silence as he paced.

  The wisp had said to seek the answer or die. It didn’t say it was necessary to become this Seeker. He could find the answers in his own way, as he always had. He hadn’t needed the sword to figure out who the wizard was, although it hadn’t been that hard.

  But what was wrong with taking the sword? What could it hurt to have its help? Wouldn’t it be foolish to turn down any assistance? Apparently the sword could be put to any use its owner wanted, so why not use it in the way he wanted? He didn’t have to become an assassin, or anything else. He could use it to help them, that was all. That was all that was needed, or wanted; no more.

  But Richard knew why he didn’t want it. He didn’t like the way it had felt when he had drawn the sword. It had felt good, and that bothered him. It had stirred his anger in a way that frightened him, made him feel like he had never felt before. The most disconcerting thing was that it felt right. He didn’t want to feel right about anger, didn’t want to lose his control of it. Anger was wrong. That’s what his father had taught him. Anger had killed his mother. He kept his anger behind a locked door he didn’t want opened. No, he would do this in his own way, without the sword. He didn’t need it, didn’t need the worry of it.

  Richard turned to Zedd, who still sat with his arms folded across his chest, watching. The sunlight gave Zedd’s wrinkles deep shadows. The lines and sharp angles of his familiar face seemed somehow different. He looked grim, resolute—somehow more like a wizard. Their eyes met and held each other. Richard was decided. He would tell his friend no. He would help, and would stand by them. His life, too, depended on this. But he would not be the Seeker. Before he could say so, Zedd spoke.

  “Kahlan, tell Richard how Darken Rahl questions people.” His voice was quiet, calm. He didn’t look at her, instead continuing to hold Richard’s eyes.

  Her voice was barely audible. “Zedd, please.”

  “Tell him.” This time his voice was harder, more forceful. “Tell him what he does with the curved knife he keeps at his belt.”

  Richard looked away from Zedd’s eyes to her pale face. After a moment she held out her hand, and looked up at him with sad, green eyes, beckoning him to come to her. He stood a moment, wary, then came and took her hand. She pulled him down toward her. He sat, straddling the bench, facing her, waiting for what it was she was bidden to say, fearing it.

  Kahlan shifted toward him, hooking some hair behind an ear, and looked down at his right hand as she held it in both of hers, stroking the back of it with her thumbs. Her fingers were gentle, soft, and warm against his palm. The size of her hands made his seem awkwardly large. She spoke quietly and didn’t look up.

  “Darken Rahl is a practitioner of an ancient form of magic called anthropomancy. He divines the answers to questions by the inspection of living human entrails.”

  Richard felt his anger ignite.

  “It’s of limited use; he can at most get a yes or no to a single question, and sometimes, a name. N
onetheless, he continues to favor its use. I’m sorry, Richard. Please forgive me for telling you this.”

  Memories of his father’s kindness, his laughter, his love, his friendship, their time together with the secret book, and a thousand other brief glimpses tore through him in a flood of anguish. The scenes and sounds converged into dim shadows and hollow echoes in Richard’s mind and melted away. In its place, memories of the bloodstains on the floor, the white faces of the people there, images of his father’s pain and terror, and the things Chase had told him flashed vividly in snatches through his mind. He didn’t try to stop them, but instead pulled them onward, hungering for them. He washed himself in the detail of it all, felt the twisting torment. Pain flared up from a pit deep inside him. Invoked heedlessly, it came screaming forth. In his mind he added the shadowed figure of Darken Rahl, hands dripping crimson blood, standing over his father’s body, holding the red, glinting blade. He held the vision before him, twisting it, inspecting it, drinking it into his soul. The picture was complete now. He had his answers. He knew how it had been. How his father had died. Until now that was all he had ever sought—answers. In his whole life, he had never gone beyond that simple quest.

  In one white-hot instant that changed.

  The door that held back his anger, and the wall of reason containing his temper, burned away in a flash of hot desire. A lifetime of rational thinking evaporated before his searing fury. Lucidity became dross in a cauldron of molten need.

  Richard reached out to the Sword of Truth, curled his fingers around the scabbard, gripping it tighter and tighter until his knuckles were white. The muscles in his jaw flexed. His breathing came fast and sharp. He saw nothing else of what was around him. The heat of anger surged forth from the sword, not of its own volition, but summoned by the Seeker.