Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  Shar’s voice was faint. “Thank you, Kahlan. Good-bye, my love.”

  The spark of light and life faded and was gone.

  After the thunder without sound, Richard waited for a time before he returned to her. Kahlan sat with her arms around her legs and her chin resting on her knees as she stared into the fire.

  “Shar?” he asked.

  “She is gone,” came the answer in a distant voice.

  He nodded and, taking her arm, led her to the mat of dry grass and laid her down. She went without resistance or comment. He put the blanket over her and piled on some of the dry grass to help keep her warm through the night, then burrowed himself into it next to her. Kahlan turned on her side, away from him, and pushed her shoulders back against him the way a child would put its back to a parent when peril approached. He sensed it, too. Something was coming for them. Something deadly.

  Already, she was asleep. He knew he should feel cold, but he didn’t. His hand throbbed. He felt warm. Richard lay there, thinking about the thunder without sound. He wondered what she would do to make the great wizard do what she wanted. The idea frightened him. Before he could worry more he, too, was asleep.

  Chapter 6

  By noon the next day, Richard knew the bite of the vine was bringing on a fever. He had no appetite. At times he was unbearably hot, sweat making his clothes stick to his skin—then he would shiver with chills. His head pounded in a way that made him sick to his stomach. There was nothing he could do about it, except seek Zedd’s help, and since they were nearly there he decided not to tell Kahlan. Dreams had troubled his sleep, whether from the fever or the things he had learned, he didn’t know. What Shar had told him was the most disturbing: seek the answer or die.

  The sky was thinly overcast, the cold gray light foretelling the coming of winter. Trees grown large and close held back the breeze and its chill, making the trail a quiet sanctuary filled with the aromatic fragrance of balsam fir: a refuge from winter’s breath above.

  Crossing a small brook near a beaver pond, they came upon a patch of late wildflowers, their yellow and pale blue blossoms blanketing the ground in a sparsely wooded hollow. Kahlan stopped to pick some. Finding a scoop-shaped piece of dead wood, she started arranging the flowers within the hollow of the wood. Richard thought she must be hungry. He found an apple tree he knew to be nearby and filled his pack half full while she bent to her task. It was always a good idea to bring food when going to see Zedd.

  Richard finished before Kahlan, and waited, leaning against a log, wondering what she was doing. When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she lifted the hem of her dress and knelt beside the pond, floating the wood out onto the water. She sat back on her boots with her hands folded in her lap, watching for a time as the small raft of flowers drifted out onto the quiet water. When she turned and saw him leaning against the log, she stood and joined him.

  “An offering to the spirits of our two mothers,” she explained. “To ask their protection and help in finding the wizard.” Kahlan looked to his face, and concern came over her features. “Richard, what’s wrong?”

  He held out an apple. “Nothing. Here, eat this.”

  She slapped his hand away and in a blink had him by the throat with her other hand. Anger flared in her green eyes. “Why would you do this?” she demanded.

  Shock raced through his mind. He went rigid. Something told him not to move. “Don’t you like apples? I’m sorry, I’ll find you something else to eat.”

  The fury in her eyes faltered, changing to doubt. “What did you call them?”

  “Apples,” he said, still not moving. “Don’t you know what apples are? They’re good to eat, I promise. What did you think they were?”

  Her hand loosened its grip a little. “You eat these . . . apples?”

  Richard kept himself still. “Yes. All the time.”

  Embarrassment replaced her anger. She released his throat and put her fingers over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. “Richard, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you could eat these things. In the Midlands, any red fruit is deadly poison. I thought you meant to poison me.”

  Richard laughed as the tension went out in a rush. Kahlan laughed, too, while protesting that it wasn’t funny. He took a bite to show her, then offered her another. This time she took it, but looked at it long and hard before taking a bite.

  “Umm, these things are good to eat.” Kahlan’s brow wrinkled. She put her hand on his forehead. “I thought there was something wrong. You are burning with fever.”

  “I know, but there’s nothing we can do until we get to Zedd’s. We’re almost there.”

  Zedd’s squat house came into sight a short distance farther up the trail. A single plank from the sod-covered roof served as a ramp for his old cat, who was better at getting up than down. White lace curtains hung on the inside of the windows, flower boxes on the outside. The flowers had dried and wilted with the passing of the season. The log walls were dull gray with age, but a bright blue door greeted visitors. Other than the door, the whole place gave the appearance of hunkering into the grasses surrounding it, of trying to go unnoticed. The house wasn’t large, but it did have a porch running the length of the front.

  Zedd’s “reason” chair was empty. The reason chair was where Zedd sat and thought until he figured out the reason for whatever it was that had snagged his curiosity. He had once sat in the chair for three days straight, trying to figure out why people were always arguing over how many stars there were. He himself didn’t care. He thought the question trivial, and he only wondered why people spent so much time debating the subject. At last he stood and pronounced that it was because anyone could express his profound conviction on the subject without fear of being proven wrong, as it was impossible to know the answer. Such fools simply didn’t have to worry about contradiction when proclaiming expertise. Having settled the matter, Zedd then went in the house and ate in earnest for three solid hours.

  Richard called out but received no answer. He smiled at Kahlan. “I bet I know where he is. Out back on his cloud rock, studying the latest batch of clouds.”

  “Cloud rock?” Kahlan asked.

  “It’s his favorite place to stand and watch clouds. Don’t ask me why. Ever since I’ve known him, whenever he sees an interesting cloud, he runs out back to watch it while standing on that rock.” Richard had grown up with the rock, and didn’t think the behavior peculiar—it was just part of the old man.

  The two of them walked through the tall, wild grasses that surrounded the house and up a rise to the top of a small barren hill, where the cloud rock sat. Zedd was standing on the flat cloud rock with his arched back to them, his spindly arms outstretched and his wavy white hair hanging away from his head as it tilted back in scrutiny.

  Zedd was stark naked.

  Richard rolled his eyes—Kahlan averted hers. Pale leathery skin draped loosely over a collection of bony projections made him look as frail as a dry stick. Richard knew him to be anything but frail, though. His bottom lacked any padding whatsoever, leaving the skin there to droop.

  One scrawny finger rose, pointing skyward. “I knew you were coming, Richard.” His voice was as thin as the rest of him.

  The plain, unadorned robes that were his only clothes lay in a heap behind him. Richard bent and picked them up while Kahlan, smiling, turned around to avoid any further embarrassment. “Zedd, we have company. Put on your clothes.”

  “Do you know how I knew you were coming?” Still he did not move or turn.

  “I would say it has something to do with a cloud that has been following me for the last few days. Here, let me help get this on you.”

  Zedd spun around, arms flailing in excitement. “Days! Bags! Richard, that cloud has been following you for three weeks! Ever since your father was killed! I haven’t seen you since George’s death. Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. I can find a lost bug in a barn easier than I can find you when you get it in your head not to be found!”r />
  “I’ve been busy. Hold your arms up so I can help you put this on.” Richard shoved the robes over Zedd’s outstretched arms and helped pull the folds down the bony body while the old man shrugged his way into the outfit.

  “Busy! Too busy to look up once in a while? Bags, Richard, do you know where that cloud is from?” Zedd’s eyes were wide with concern as his forehead wrinkled above his raised brow.

  “Don’t curse,” Richard said. “And I would say the cloud is from D’Hara.” Zedd’s arms shot back into the air. “D’Hara! Yes! Very good, my boy! Tell me, what gave it away for you. Was it the texture? The density?” Zedd was becoming ever more excited as he wiggled around in his robe, dissatisfied with the way it twisted.

  “Neither. It’s an assumption I make based on independent information. Zedd, as I said before, we have company.”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” He waved the matter away with his hand. “Independent information, you say.” He drew his forefinger and thumb down his smooth jaw. His hazel eyes lit up. “That’s very good too. Very good, indeed! Did this information also tell you this is bad business? Well yes, of course it did,” he said, in answer to his own question. “Why are you sweating?” He put his twiglike fingers to Richard’s forehead. “You have a fever,” he pronounced. “Did you bring me anything to eat?”

  Richard already had an apple at hand—he knew Zedd would be hungry. Zedd was always hungry. The old man bit into the apple with a vengeance.

  “Zedd, please listen to me. I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”

  Zedd put his scrawny fingers on the top of Richard’s head while he chewed, and with his thumb, lifted an eyelid. Leaning forward, he thrust his sharply featured face close to Richard’s and peered into his eye, then repeated the procedure on the other eye. “I always listen to you, Richard.” He lifted Richard’s arm by the wrist, feeling his pulse. “And I agree, you are in trouble. In three hours, maybe four, no more, you will be unconscious.”

  Richard was taken aback—Kahlan looked worried, too. Zedd knew about fevers, among other things, and did not make precise pronouncements like this that ever proved in error. Richard’s legs had felt weak since he awoke with chills, and he knew he was getting worse. “Can you do anything to help?”

  “Probably, but it depends on what caused it. Now, stop being rude and introduce me to your girlfriend.”

  “Zedd, this is my friend, Kahlan Amnell . . .”

  The old man peered closely into his eyes. “Oh, was I wrong? She is not a girl then?” Zedd cackled. He smiled over the trick as he shuffled to Kahlan, bowed dramatically at the waist, lifted her hand only a little, kissed it lightly, and said, “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, humbly at your whim, my dear young lady.” He straightened himself up to have a look at her face. When their eyes met, his smile evaporated and his eyes went wide. His keen features transformed to anger. He released her hand as if he had discovered himself holding a poisonous snake. Zedd spun to Richard.

  “What are you doing with this creature!”

  Kahlan was calm and impassive. Richard was aghast. “Zedd . . .”

  “Has she touched you?”

  “Well, I . . .” Richard was trying to remember the times she had touched him, when Zedd cut him off again.

  “No, of course not. I can see she hasn’t. Richard, do you know what she is?” He turned to her. “She’s a . . .”

  Kahlan gave Zedd a look of such cold danger that it froze him in place.

  Richard kept his voice calm, but firm. “I know exactly what she is: she is my friend. A friend who yesterday saved me from getting killed as my father was, and again saved me from being killed by some beast called a gar.” Kahlan’s expression relaxed. The old man stared at her a little longer before turning to Richard. “Zedd, Kahlan is my friend. We are both in a lot of trouble and need to help each other.”

  Zedd stood in silence, searching Richard’s eyes. He nodded. “Trouble indeed.”

  “Zedd, we need your help. Please?” Kahlan came and stood next to him. “We don’t have much time.” Zedd didn’t look inclined to be any part of it, but Richard went on anyway, watching Zedd’s eyes. “Yesterday, after I found her, she was attacked by a quad. Another will come soon.” He saw what he was looking for—a quick flash of hatred, softening into empathy.

  Zedd looked to Kahlan as if seeing her for the first time. They faced each other for a long while. At the mention of the quad the look on Kahlan’s face became one of torment. Zedd came forward and put his spindly arms around her protectively, holding her head to his shoulder. She reached around and embraced him gratefully, burying her face in his robes to conceal her tears. “It’s all right, dear one, you are safe here,” he said softly. “Let’s go down to the house and you can tell me of this trouble, and then we must tend to Richard’s fever.” She nodded against his shoulder.

  Kahlan parted from him. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. I have never heard such a name.”

  He smiled proudly, his thin lips pushing back his cheeks into deep wrinkles. “I’m sure you haven’t, dear one, I’m sure you haven’t. By the way, can you cook?” He put his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight as he started walking her down the hill. “I’m hungry and haven’t had a suitably cooked meal in years.” He glanced back. “Come along, Richard, while you still can.”

  “If you help Richard’s fever, I will make you a big pot of spice soup,” she offered.

  “Spice soup!” Zedd swooned. “I haven’t had a proper spice soup in years. Richard is lousy at making it.”

  Richard trudged behind, the emotional strain having taken much of his remaining strength. The casual way Zedd was handling the fever scared him. He knew this was his old friend’s way of trying not to frighten him about the seriousness of the matter. He could feel his pulse in his sore hand.

  Since Zedd was from the Midlands, Richard had thought he could gain his compassion with the mention of the quad. Richard was relieved, if somewhat surprised, at how the two of them were suddenly so amiable. He reached up as he walked, touching the tooth for reassurance.

  He was, however, quite disturbed by what he now knew.

  Near a back corner of the house sat a table where Zedd liked to take his meals in good weather. It afforded him the opportunity to keep an eye to the clouds while he ate. Zedd sat them down together on a bench while he went inside and brought out carrots, berries, cheese, and apple juice, putting them on the wooden tabletop worn smooth with years of use, then sat himself on the bench opposite them. He gave Richard a mug of something brown and thick that smelled of almonds and told him to drink it slowly.

  His eyes came to Richard. “Tell me of the trouble.” Richard related how he was bitten by a vine, and told Zedd about seeing the thing in the sky, seeing Kahlan at Trunt Lake, and being followed by the four men. He told the whole story with every detail he could remember. He knew Zedd liked to have every detail, no matter how unimportant. Occasionally Richard stopped to take a sip from the mug. Kahlan ate some carrots and berries, and drank the apple juice, but she pushed away the plate with the cheese. She nodded or offered help when he couldn’t remember a particular point. The only thing he left out was the story Kahlan had told him of the history of the three lands and about Darken Rahl taking over the Midlands. He thought it better that she tell it in her own words. At the end, Zedd made him go back to the beginning, wanting to know what Richard had been doing in the high Ven in the first place.

  “When I went to my father’s house after the murder, I looked in the message jar. It was about the only thing not broken. Inside was a piece of vine. For the last three weeks, I’ve been looking for the vine, trying to find out what my father’s last message meant. And when I found it, well, that’s the thing that bit me.” He was glad to be finished—his tongue felt thick.

  Zedd bit off a chunk of carrot while thinking. “What did the vine look like?”

  “It was . . . Wait, I still have it in my pocket.” He took out the sprig and plunked it do
wn on the table.

  “Bags!” Zedd whispered. “That’s a snake vine!”

  Richard felt a shock of icy cold sweep through him. He knew the name from the secret book. He hoped against hope it did not mean what he feared it did.

  Zedd sat back. “Well, the good part is now I know the root to use to cure the fever. The bad part is I have to find it.” Zedd asked Kahlan to tell her part but, to make it short, as there were things he must do and not much time. Richard thought about the story she had told in the wayward pine the night before, and wondered how she could possibly make it shorter.

  “Darken Rahl, son of Panis Rahl, has put the three boxes of Orden in play,” Kahlan said simply. “I have come in search of the great wizard.”

  Richard was thunderstruck.

  From the secret book, the Book of Counted Shadows, the book his father had had him commit to memory before they destroyed it, the line jumped into his mind:

  And when the three boxes of Orden are put into play, the snake vine shall grow.

  Richard’s worst nightmares—everyone’s worst nightmares—were coming to pass.

  Chapter 7

  Pain and dizziness from the fever made Richard only dimly aware that his head had sunk to the table. He groaned while his mind spun with the implications of what Kahlan had told Zedd—of the prophecy of the secret Book of Counted Shadows come to life. Then Zedd was at his side, lifting him, telling Kahlan to help get him into the house. As he walked with their help, the ground slipped this way and that, making it difficult to catch it with his feet. Then they were laying him down on a bed, covering him up. He knew they were talking, but he couldn’t make sense of the words, which slurred in his mind.

  Darkness sucked his mind in—then there was light. He seemed to float back up, only to spiral down again. He wondered who he was and what was happening. Time passed as the room spun and rolled and tilted. He gripped the bed to keep from being flung off. Sometimes he knew where he was, and tried desperately to hold on to what he knew . . . only to slip away again into blackness.