Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard took a few steps toward his father. “Safe?”

  “Yes, she is safe. Come, I will take you to her.”

  Richard took a few more steps, dragging the tip of the sword on the ground behind. Tears ran down his cheeks. His chest heaved. “You could really take me to her?”

  “Yes, son,” his father said softly. “Come. She waits for you. I will take you to her.”

  Richard walked numbly toward his father. “And I can be with her? Forever?”

  “Forever,” came the answer in the reassuring, familiar voice.

  Richard trudged back into the green light, to his father, who smiled warmly at him.

  When he reached him, Richard brought the Sword of Truth up, and ran it through his father’s heart. Wide-eyed, his father looked up at him as he was impaled.

  “How many times, dear father,” Richard asked through tears and gritted teeth, “must I slay your shade?”

  His father only shimmered and then dissolved into the dim morning air.

  Bitter satisfaction replaced the anger; then it, too, was gone as he turned once again to the path. Tears ran in streaks through the dirt and sweat on his face. He wiped them on his shirtsleeve as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. Woods enveloped him indifferently as he rejoined the trail.

  Laboriously, Richard slid his sword home, into its scabbard. When he did so, he noticed the light from the night stone shining through his pocket, it still being just dark enough to cause it to glow weakly. He stopped and took the smooth stone out once more and replaced it in its leather pouch, quenching the dim yellow light.

  His face set in grim determination, Richard slogged ahead, his fingers reaching up to touch the tooth under his shirt. Loneliness, deeper than he had never known, sagged his shoulders. All his friends were lost to him. He knew now that his life was not his own. It belonged to his duty, to his task. He was the Seeker. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not his own man, but a pawn to be used by others. A tool, same as his sword, to help others, that they might have the life he had only glimpsed for a twinkling.

  He was no different from the dark things in the boundary. A bringer of death.

  And he knew quite clearly who he was going to bring it to.

  The Master sat straight-backed and cross-legged on the grass in front of the sleeping boy, his hands resting palm up on his knees, a smile on his lips, as he thought about what had happened with Confessor Kahlan at the boundary. Morning sunlight streamed crossways through the windows overhead, making the colors of the garden flowers vibrant. Slowly, he brought the fingers of his right hand to his lips, licking the tips and then smoothing his eyebrows before carefully returning the hand to its resting place. Thoughts of what he would do to the Mother Confessor had caused his breathing to quicken. He slowed it now, returning his mind to the matter at hand. His fingers wiggled, and Carl’s eyes popped open.

  “Good morning, my son. Good to see you again,” he said in his most friendly voice. The smile, though for another reason, was still on his lips.

  Carl blinked and squinted at the brightness of the light. “Good morning,” he said in a groan. Then, his eyes looking about, thought to add, “Father Rahl.”

  “You slept well,” Rahl assured the boy.

  “You were here? Here all night?”

  “All night. As I promised you I would be. I would not lie to you, Carl.”

  Carl smiled. “Thanks.” He lowered his eyes shyly. “I guess I was kind of silly to be scared.”

  “I don’t think it’s silly at all. I am glad I could be here to reassure you.”

  “My father says I’m being foolish when I get afraid of the dark.”

  “There are things in the dark that can get you,” Rahl said solemnly. “You are wise to know it, and to be on guard for them. Your father would do himself a favor to listen, and learn from you.”

  Carl brightened. “Really?” Rahl nodded. “Well, that’s what I always thought too.”

  “If you truly love someone, you will listen to them.”

  “My father always says for me to keep my tongue still.”

  Rahl shook his head disapprovingly. “It surprises me to hear this. I had thought they loved you very much.”

  “Well, they do. Most of the time anyway.”

  “I’m sure you are right. You would know better than I.”

  The Master’s long blond hair glistened in the morning light; his white robe shone brightly. He waited. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

  “But I do get pretty tired of them always telling me what to do.”

  Rahl’s eyebrows went up. “You seem to me to be of the age where you can think and decide things for yourself. A fine boy like you, almost a man, and they tell you what to do,” he added, half to himself, shaking his head again. As if he couldn’t believe what Carl was telling him, he asked, “You mean they treat you like a baby?”

  Carl nodded his earnest confirmation, then thought to correct the impression. “Most of the time, though, they’re good to me.”

  Rahl nodded, somewhat suspiciously. “That is good to hear. It is a relief to me.”

  Carl looked up at the sunlight. “But I can tell you one thing, my parents are going to be madder than hornets that I’ve been gone so long.”

  “They get mad because of when you come home?”

  “Sure. One time, I was playing with a friend, and I got home late, and my mother was real mad. My father took his belt to me. He said it was for worrying them so.”

  “A belt? Your father hit you with his belt?” Darken Rahl hung his head, then came to his feet, turning his back to the boy. “I’m sorry, Carl, I had no idea it was like this with them.”

  “Well, it’s only because they love me,” Carl hastened to add. “That’s what they said, they love me and I caused them to worry.” Rahl still kept his back to the boy. Carl frowned. “Don’t you think that shows they care about me?”

  Rahl licked his fingers and smoothed them over his eyebrows and lips before he turned back to the boy and sat once more in front of his anxious face.

  “Carl”—his voice was so soft that the boy had to strain to hear—“do you have a dog?”

  “Sure,” he nodded, “Tinker. She’s a fine dog. I had her since she was a pup.”

  “Tinker,” Rahl rolled the name out pleasantly. “And has Tinker ever been lost, or run away?”

  Carl scrunched up his eyebrows, thinking. “Well, sure, a couple times before she was grown. But she came back the next day.”

  “Were you worried, when your dog was gone? When she was missing?”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love her.”

  “I see. And so then when Tinker came back the next day, what did you do?”

  “I picked her up in my arms and I hugged her and hugged her.”

  “You didn’t beat Tinker with your belt?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I love her!”

  “But you were worried?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you hugged Tinker when she came back because you loved her and you were worried about her.”

  “Yes.”

  Rahl leaned back a little, his blue eyes intense. “I see. And if you had beaten Tinker with your belt when she came back to you, what do you think she would have done?”

  “I bet she might not have come back the next time. She wouldn’t want to come back so I could beat her. She’d have gone somewhere else where people loved her.”

  “I see,” Rahl said meaningfully.

  Tears streamed down Carl’s cheeks. He looked away from Rahl’s eyes as he cried. At last, Rahl reached out, stroking back the boy’s hair.

  “I’m sorry, Carl. I did not mean to upset you. But I want you to know that when this is all over, and you go home again, that if you ever need a home, you will always be welcome here. You are a fine boy, a fine young man, and I would be proud to have you stay here, with me. Both you a
nd Tinker. And I want you to know I trust you to think for yourself, and you may come and go as you please.”

  Carl looked up with wet eyes. “Thank you, Father Rahl.”

  Rahl smiled warmly. “Now, how about some food?”

  Carl nodded his approval.

  “What would you like? We have anything you could want.”

  Carl thought a minute, and a smile came to him. “I like blueberry pie. It’s my favorite.” He cast his eyes down, the smile fading. “But I’m not allowed to have it for breakfast.”

  A big grin came to Darken Rahl’s face. He stood. “Blueberry pie it is, then. I’ll go get it and be right back.”

  The Master walked off through the garden to a small vine-covered door at the side. The door opened for him as he approached, the big arm of Demmin Nass holding it back as Rahl passed through into the dark room. Foul-smelling gruel boiled in an iron kettle hung over a fire in a small forge. The two guards stood silently against the far wall, a sheen of sweat covering them.

  “Master Rahl.” Demmin bowed his head. “I trust the boy meets with your approval.”

  Rahl licked his finger tips. “He will do nicely.” He smoothed his eyebrows down. “Dish me out a bowl of that slop so it can cool.”

  Demmin picked up a pewter bowl and started ladling gruel into it with the wooden spoon from the kettle.

  “If everything is all right”—a wicked grin came over his pockmarked face—“then I will be off to pay our respects to Queen Milena.”

  “Fine. On the way, stop and tell the dragon I want her.”

  Demmin stopped ladling. “She doesn’t like me.”

  “She doesn’t like anyone,” Rahl said flatly. “But don’t worry, Demmin, she will not eat you. She knows what I will do if she stretches my patience.”

  Demmin started ladling again. “She will ask how soon you will need her.”

  Rahl glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “That is none of her concern, and tell her I said so. She is to come when I ask, and wait until I am ready.” He turned and looked out a small slit, off through the foliage, at the side of the boy’s head. “But I want you back here in two weeks.”

  “Two weeks, all right.” Demmin set the bowl of gruel down. “But does it really need to take that long with the boy?”

  “It does if I want to return from the underworld.” Rahl continued to look out the slit. “It may take longer. Whatever it takes, it takes. I must have his complete trust, the freely given pledge of his unconditional loyalty.”

  Demmin hooked a thumb in his belt. “We have another problem.”

  Rahl glanced back over his shoulder. “Is that all you do, Demmin? Go around looking for problems?”

  “It keeps my head attached to my shoulders.”

  Rahl smiled. “So it does, my friend, so it does.” He sighed. “Get it off your tongue, then.”

  Demmin shifted his weight to his other foot. “Last night I received reports that the tracer cloud has vanished.”

  “Vanished?”

  “Well, not so much vanished, as hidden.” He scratched the side of his face. “They said clouds moved in and hid it.”

  Rahl laughed. Demmin frowned in confusion.

  “Our friend, the old wizard. It sounds like he saw the cloud and has been up to his little tricks to vex me. It was to be expected. This one is not a problem, my friend. It is not important.”

  “Master Rahl, that was how you were to find the book. Other than the last box, what could be more important?”

  “I did not say the book was unimportant. I said the cloud was unimportant. The book is very important, that is why I would not trust it only to a tracer cloud. Demmin, how do you suppose I hooked the cloud to the Cypher boy?”

  “My talents lie in areas other than magic, Master Rahl.”

  “True enough, my friend.” Rahl licked his fingertips. “Many years ago, before my father was murdered by that evil wizard, he told me of the boxes of Orden, and the Book of Counted Shadows. He was trying to recover them himself, but he was not well enough studied. He was too much a man of action, of battle.” Rahl looked up into Demmin’s eyes. “Much the same as you, my big friend. He didn’t have the necessary knowledge. But he was wise enough to teach me the value of the head over the sword; how by using your head, you could defeat any number of men. He had the best instructors tutor me. Then he was murdered.” Rahl pounded his fist down on the table. His face turned red. After a moment, he calmed himself. “So I studied harder, for many years, so that I might succeed where my father failed, and return the house of Rahl to its rightful place as rulers of all the lands.”

  “You have exceeded your father’s deepest hopes, Master Rahl.”

  Rahl smiled his slight smile. He took another look through the slit as he went on. “In my studies, I found where the Book of Counted Shadows lay hidden. It was in the Midlands, on the other side of the boundary, but I was not yet able to travel the underworld, to go there and retrieve it. So I sent a guard beast, to watch over it for me, until the day when I could go myself and liberate it.”

  He stood up straight, turning back to Demmin, a dark look on his face. “Before I could get the book, a man named George Cypher killed the guard beast, and stole the book. My book. He took a tooth from the beast as a trophy. A very stupid thing to do, as the beast was sent by magic, my magic”—he lifted an eyebrow—“and I can find my magic.”

  Rahl licked his fingers, stroking them over his lips, staring off absently. “After I put the boxes of Orden in play, I went to get the book. That’s when I found it had been stolen. It took time, but I found the man who stole it. Unfortunately, he no longer had the book, and would not tell me where it was.” Rahl smiled up at Demmin. “I made him suffer for not helping me.” Demmin smiled back. “But I did learn that he had given the tooth to his son.”

  “So that is how you know the Cypher boy has the book.”

  “Yes, Richard Cypher has the Book of Counted Shadows. And he also wears the tooth. That’s how I hooked the tracer cloud to him, by hooking it to the tooth his father gave him, the tooth with my magic. I would have recovered the book before now, but I have had many matters to attend to. I only hooked the cloud to him to help me keep track of him in the meantime. It was a mere convenience. But the matter is as good as settled; I can get the book at any time of my choosing. The cloud is of little importance. I can find him by the tooth.”

  Rahl picked up the bowl of gruel, handing it to Demmin. “Taste this, see if it is cool enough.” He arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to hurt the boy.”

  Demmin sniffed the bowl, his nose turning up in distaste. He handed it to one of the guards, who took it without objection and put a spoon of gruel to his lips. He gave a nod.

  “Cypher could lose the tooth, or simply throw it away. Then you would not be able to find him, or the book.” Demmin gave a submissive bow of his head as he spoke. “Please forgive me for saying so, Master Rahl, but it would seem to me you leave a lot to chance.”

  “Sometimes, Demmin, I leave things to fate, but never to chance. I have other ways of finding Richard Cypher.”

  Demmin took a deep breath, relaxing as he thought about Rahl’s words. “I can see now why you haven’t been worried. I didn’t know all this.”

  Rahl frowned up at his loyal commander. “We have scarcely stroked the fur of what you do not know, Demmin. That is why you serve me, and not me you.” His expression softened. “You have been a good friend, Demmin, since we were boys, so I will ease your mind on this subject. I have many pressing matters that require my time, matters of magic that cannot wait. Like this.” His arm went out, indicating the boy. “I know where the book is, and I know my own talents. I can get the book at a time of my convenience. For now, I look upon it as if Richard Cypher is simply keeping it safe for me.” Rahl leaned closer. “Satisfied?”

  Demmin diverted his eyes to the ground. “Yes, Master Rahl.” He looked back up. “Please know that I only bring my concerns to you because I want s
uccess for you. You are rightfully the master of all the lands. We all need you to guide us. I wish only to be part of delivering you victory. I fear nothing but that I should fail you.”

  Darken Rahl put his arm around Demmin’s big shoulders, looking up at the pockmarked face, the streak of black hair through the blond. “That I had more like you, my friend.” He took his arm away and picked up the bowl. “Go now and tell Queen Milena of our alliance. Don’t forget to summon the dragon.” His hint of a smile came back. “And don’t let your little diversions make you late in returning.”

  Demmin bowed his head. “Thank you, Master Rahl, for the honor of serving you.”

  The big man left through a back door as Rahl went out the one into the garden. The guards stayed in the small, hot, forge room.

  Picking up the feeding horn, Rahl went over to the boy. The feeding horn was a long brass tube, small at the mouthpiece, large at the other end. The big end was held up to shoulder height by two legs, so the gruel would slide down. Rahl set it down so the mouthpiece was in front of Carl.

  “What’s this thing?” Carl asked, squinting up at it. “A horn?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Very good, Carl. It’s a feeding horn. It’s a part of the ceremony you will be in. The other young men who have helped the people in the past have thought it a most fun way to eat. You put your mouth over the end there, and I serve you by pouring the food in the top.”

  Carl was skeptical. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Rahl smiled reassuringly. “And guess what, I got you a fresh blueberry pie, still warm out of the oven.”

  Carl’s eyes lit up. “Great!” He eagerly put his mouth over the end of the horn.

  Rahl passed his hand in a circle over the bowl three times to change the taste, then looked down at Carl. “I had to mash it up so it will go through the feeding horn, I hope that’s all right.”

  “I always mash it up with my fork,” Carl said with a grin, then put his mouth back over the horn.

  Rahl poured a little gruel into the end of the horn. When it reached Carl’s mouth, he ate it eagerly.

  “It’s great! The best I ever had!”

  “I’m so pleased,” Rahl said with a shy smile. “It’s my own recipe. I feared it wouldn’t be as good as your mother’s.”