Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  He edged closer to her. “Kahlan, you were born after the council took this power upon itself, so you may have been a Seeker when you were young, but in those days they were pretend Seekers—you have never seen the real thing.” His eyes got round in the telling, his voice low and full of passion. “I have seen a true Seeker make a king quake in his boots with the asking of a single question. When a real Seeker draws the Sword of Truth . . .” He held his hands up and rolled his eyes in delight. “Righteous anger can be an extraordinary thing to behold.” Kahlan smiled at his excitement. “It can make the good tremble with joy, and the wicked shiver in fear.” The smile left his face. “But people rarely believe the truth when they see it and less so when they don’t want to, and that makes the position of Seeker a dangerous one. He is an obstacle to those who would subvert power. He draws lightning from many sides. Most often he stands alone, and frequently not long.”

  “I know the feeling well,” she said, with only the hint of a smile.

  Zedd leaned closer. “Against Darken Rahl, I doubt even a true Seeker would last long. And then what?”

  She took up his hands again. “Zedd, we must try. It is our only chance. If we don’t take it, we have none.”

  He sat up, pulling away from her. “Any person the wizard picks would not know the Midlands. He would have no chance there. It would be a sentence of quick death.”

  “That is the other reason I was sent. To be his guide, and stand with him, to offer my life if need be, to help protect him. Confessors spend their life traveling the lands. I have been almost everywhere in the Midlands. A Confessor is trained from birth in languages. She has to be, because she never knows where she will be called. I speak every major language, and most of the minor ones. And as far as drawing lightning, a Confessor draws her fair share. If we were easy to kill, Rahl would not need to send quads to get the job done. And many of them have died in the doing. I can help protect the Seeker—if need be, with my own life.”

  “What you propose not only would put someone’s life at terrible risk, as Seeker, dear one, but yours also.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I am hunted now. If you have a better way, put words to it.”

  Before Zedd could answer, Richard moaned. The old man looked over at him and then rose. “It is time.”

  Kahlan stood up next to him as he lifted Richard’s arm by the wrist, holding the wounded hand over the tin plate. Blood dripped onto the plate with soft, hollow sounds. The thorn fell out with a small, wet splash. Kahlan reached for it.

  Zedd grabbed her wrist. “Don’t do that, dear one. Now that it has been expelled from its host, it will be anxious to have a new one. Watch.”

  She took her hand back as he put his bony finger on the plate several inches from the thorn. It wiggled its way toward the finger, leaving a thin trail of blood. He took his finger away and handed her the plate. “Hold it from underneath, and take it to the hearth. Put it on the fire, facedown, and leave it there.”

  While she did as Zedd requested, he cleaned the wound and applied a salve. When Kahlan returned, he held Richard’s hand while she wrapped it. Zedd watched her hands as she worked.

  “Why have you not told him what you are, that you are a Confessor?” There was a hard edge to his voice.

  Hers came back in kind. “Because of the way you reacted when you recognized me as a Confessor.” She paused, and the harshness left her voice. “Somehow we have become friends. I am inexperienced in that, but I am very experienced at being a Confessor. I have seen reactions like yours all my life. When I leave with the Seeker, I will tell him. Until then, I would very much like to have his friendship. Is that too much to ask, to be allowed the simple human pleasure of a friend? The friendship will end soon enough, when I tell him.”

  When she finished, Zedd put a finger under her chin, raising her face to his gentle smile. “When I first saw you, I reacted foolishly. Mostly to the surprise of seeing a Confessor. I had not expected ever to see one again. I quit the Midlands to be free of the magic. You were an intrusion into my solitude. I apologize for my reaction and for making you feel unwelcome. I hope I have made it up to you. I am one who has respect for the Confessors, perhaps more than you will ever know. You are a good woman, and you are welcome in my house.”

  Kahlan looked into his eyes a long moment. “Thank you, Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.”

  Zedd’s expression turned more dangerous than hers had when they had first met. She stood frozen with his finger still under her chin, afraid to move, her eyes wide.

  “Know this, though, Mother Confessor.” His voice was only one step above a whisper, and deadly. “This boy has been my friend a good long time. If you touch him with your power, or if you choose him, you will answer to me. And you would not like that. Do you understand?”

  She swallowed hard and managed to give a weak nod. “Yes.”

  “Good.” The danger left his face, leaving calm again in its place. He removed his finger from under her chin, and began to turn to Richard.

  Kahlan let her breath out and, not willing to be intimidated, grabbed his arm, turning him back to her. “Zedd, I would not do that to him, not because of what you said, but because I care for him. I want you to understand that.”

  They faced off a long while, each measuring the other. Zedd’s impish smile returned, as disarming as ever.

  “If offered a choice, dear one, that is the way I would prefer it.”

  She relaxed, satisfied at having made her point, and gave him a quick hug that was returned earnestly.

  “There is one thing you have left unspoken. You have not asked for my help in finding the wizard.”

  “No, and for now I won’t. Richard fears what I would do if you were to say no. I promised I would not ask until he has a chance to ask you first. I gave him my word.”

  Zedd put a bony finger to his chin. “How interesting.” He laid his hand on her shoulder conspiratorially, and changed the subject. “You know, dear one, you might make a good Seeker yourself.”

  “Me? A woman can be Seeker?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course. Some of the best Seekers have been women.”

  “I already have an impossible job.” She frowned. “I don’t need two.”

  Zedd chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Perhaps you are right. Now, it’s very late, dear one. Go to my bed in the next room and get yourself some needed sleep. I will sit with Richard.”

  “No!” She shook her head and plopped down in the chair. “I don’t want to leave him for now.”

  Zedd shrugged. “As you wish.” He walked behind her and patted her shoulder reassuringly. “As you wish.” He gently reached up and put a middle finger to each of her temples, rubbing in little circles. She moaned softly as her eyes closed. “Sleep, dear one,” he whispered, “sleep.” She folded her arms down onto the edge of the bed, and her head sank onto her arms. She was deeply asleep. After he put a blanket over her, Zedd went to the front room and pulled open the door, looking out into the night.

  “Cat! Come here, I want you.” The cat came running in and rubbed himself against Zedd’s legs, swishing his tail up. Zedd bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “Go in and sleep on the young woman’s lap. Keep her warm.” The cat padded off to the bedroom as the old man stepped out into the cold night air.

  The wind whipped Zedd’s robes as he walked the narrow path through the tall grass. The clouds were thin, illuminated by the moon, which gave enough light to see by, even though he didn’t need it—he had walked the same route thousands of times.

  “Nothing is ever easy,” he muttered as he went.

  Near a stand of trees he stopped, listening. Slowly, he turned about, peering into the shadows, watching the branches bend and sway in the breeze, testing the air with his nose. He searched for an alien movement.

  A fly bit his neck. He swatted it angrily, picked the offender off his neck, and glared at it. “Blood fly. Bags. I thought as much,” he complained.

  From the brush ne
ar by, something came toward him in a terrible rush. Wings and fur and teeth came charging. Hands on his hips, Zedd waited. Just before it was on him, he held up his hand, bringing the short-tailed gar to a lurching halt. It was half again as tall as he, full grown, and twice as fierce as a long-tailed gar. The beast growled and blinked, its great muscles flexing as it fought against the force that kept it from reaching out and grabbing the old man. It was furious that it had not yet killed him.

  Zedd reached up and with a crooked finger beckoned it to lean closer. The gar, panting in rage, bent toward him. Zedd jammed his finger hard under its chin.

  “What is your name?” he hissed. The beast grunted twice and made a sound from deep in its throat. Zedd gave a nod. “I will remember it. Tell me, do you wish to live, or to die?” The gar struggled to back away, but was unable to. “Good. Then you will do exactly as I say. Somewhere between here and D’Hara, a quad comes this way. Hunt them and kill them. When you have done so, go back to D’Hara, to where you came from. Do these things and I will let you live, but I will remember your name, and if you fail to kill the quad, or ever come back after your task is done, I will kill you and feed you to your flies. Do you agree to my terms?” The gar grunted an acknowledgment. “Good. Then be gone.” Zedd removed his finger from under the gar’s chin.

  Scrambling to get away, the beast flapped its wings frantically, beating down the grass as it stumbled along. At last the gar was airborne. Zedd watched it as it circled, searching for the quad. As the hunt moved steadily east, the circles seemed to get smaller until the old man could no longer see the beast. Only then did he continue on to the top of the hill.

  Standing next to his cloud rock, Zedd pointed down at it and began turning his bony finger in a circle as if stirring a stew. The massive rock grated against the ground as it tried to revolve with the movement of Zedd’s finger. The rock shuddered, trying to rotate its own weight. Popping and snapping, it fractured, sending hairline cracks shooting across its surface. Its trembling bulk struggled against the force being applied. The granular structure of the stone began to soften. Unable to maintain its state any longer, the texture of the rock liquefied enough to allow its mass to rotate with the movement of the finger above it. Gradually the speed of Zedd’s stirring increased until light erupted from the rotating liquid rock.

  The light built in intensity with the speed of Zedd’s hand. As colors and sparkles of light spun, shadows and forms came into the center of the light and vanished as the fog of brightness increased. Light threatened to ignite the air about him. A dull roar, like the sound of wind rushing through a fissure, came forth. The smells of autumn changed to winter clarity, then spring’s new plowed ground, summer’s flowers, and back to autumn again. Clean, pure illumination chased the colors and sparkles away.

  The rock abruptly solidified and Zedd stepped atop it, into the light. The brightness faded to a faint glow that swirled like smoke. Before him stood two apparitions, mere shadows of form. Where sharpness should have been, their shapes softened like a dim memory, yet they were still recognizable, and the sight of them brought a quickness to Zedd’s heart.

  His mother’s voice came hollow and distant. “What troubles you, son? Why have you called us after so many years?” Her arms stretched out to him.

  Zedd’s arms reached out, but could not touch her. “I am troubled by what the Mother Confessor tells me.”

  “She speaks the truth.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded as his arms lowered with hers. “It’s true, then, all my students, save Giller, are dead.”

  “You are the only one left to protect the Mother Confessor.” She drifted closer. “You must appoint the Seeker.”

  “The High Council sowed these seeds,” he protested, frowning. “Now you want me to help? They turned my advice away. Let them live and die by their own greed.”

  Zedd’s father floated closer. “My son, why were you angry with your students?”

  Zedd scowled. “Because they put themselves before their duty to help their people.”

  “I see. And how is this different from what you do now?” The echo of his voice hung in the air.

  Zedd’s fists tightened. “My help was offered, but turned away.”

  “And when has it not been so, that there would be those who were blind, or foolish, or greedy? Would you let them have their way over you so easily? Would you let them so simply prevent you from helping those who would be helped? Your abandonment of the people may have a reason that seems just to you, unlike the actions of your students, but the results are the same. In the end they saw their mistake, and did the right things, the things you taught them. Learn from your students, son.”

  “Zeddicus,” his mother said, “would you let Richard die too, and all the other innocents? Appoint the Seeker.”

  “He’s too young.”

  She shook her head with a gentle smile. “He will not get the chance to grow older.”

  “He has not passed my final test.”

  “Darken Rahl hunts Richard. The cloud that shadows him was sent by Rahl to track him. The snake vine was put in the jar by Darken Rahl, in the expectation that Richard would search for it, and it would bite him. The snake vine wasn’t meant to kill—Rahl sought to have him put to sleep by the fever until he could come for him.” Her form drifted closer, her voice becoming more loving. “You know in your heart you have been watching him, hoping he would show himself to be the one.”

  “To what avail?” Zedd closed his eyes, his chin sinking to his chest. “Darken Rahl has the three boxes of Orden.”

  “No,” his father said, “he has only two. He still seeks the third.”

  Zedd’s eyes snapped open, his head jerked up. “What! He doesn’t have them all?”

  “No,” his mother said, “but he soon will.”

  “And the book? Surely he must have the Book of Counted Shadows?”

  “No. He searches for it.”

  Zedd put a finger to his chin, thinking. “Then there’s a chance,” he whispered. “What sort of fool would put the boxes of Orden in play before he had all three, and the book?”

  His mother’s features sharpened into a look of ice. “A very dangerous one. He travels the underworld.” Zedd stiffened, and his breath caught in his throat. His mother’s eyes seemed to pierce him. “That is how he was able to cross the boundary and recover the first box: by traveling the underworld. That is how he was able to begin the undoing of the boundary: from within the underworld. He commands some in it, more with his every coming. If you choose to help, be warned: do not go through the boundary, or send the Seeker through. Rahl expects it. If you enter, he will have you. The Mother Confessor came through only because he did not expect it. He will not make the same mistake again.”

  “But then how am I to get us to the Midlands? I can’t help if I can’t get to the Midlands.” Zedd’s voice was tense with frustration.

  “We’re sorry, but we don’t know. We believe there must be a way, but it is not known to us. That is why you must appoint the Seeker. If he is the right one, he will find a way.” Their forms began to shimmer, to fade.

  “Wait! I must have the answers to my questions! Please, don’t leave me!”

  “We’re sorry, it is not our choice, we are called back behind the veil.”

  “Why is Rahl after Richard? Please help me.”

  His father’s voice was weak and distant. “We don’t know. You must search for the answers yourself. We have trained you well. You are more talented than we ever were. Use what you were taught and what you feel. We love you, son. Until this is settled, one way or the other, we cannot come to you again. With Orden in play, coming again could tear the veil.”

  His mother kissed her hand and held it out to him as he did the same in return, and then they were gone.

  Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, the great and honorable wizard, stood alone on the wizard’s rock his father had given him, and stared out into the night, thinking wizard’s thoughts.

&n
bsp; “Nothing is ever easy,” he whispered.

  Chapter 8

  Richard came awake with a start. Warm midday light filled the room, and the wonderful, tangy aroma of spice soup filled his lungs. He was in his room at Zedd’s house. He looked up at the familiar knots in the wood walls, and the faces he always made them into in his mind stared back. The door to the front room stood shut. A chair waited next to the bed, empty. He sat up, pushing the covers down, and saw that he still wore his dirty clothes. He felt for the tooth under his shirt and sighed in relief when he found it still there, safe. A short stick held the window open a few inches, letting in fresh air and the sound of Kahlan’s laughter. Zedd must be telling stories, he thought. Richard looked at his left hand. It was wrapped but no longer sore when he flexed his fingers. His head didn’t hurt anymore, either. In fact, he felt wonderful. Hungry, but wonderful. He amended that to dirty, in filthy clothes, and hungry, but wonderful.

  A tub of bathwater, soap, and clean towels sat in the center of the small room. A clean outfit of his forest garb was folded and stacked neatly on the chair. The bathwater looked deliciously inviting. He dipped his hand in and found the water warm. Zedd must have known when he would wake. Knowing Zedd as well as he did, that didn’t surprise him.

  Richard undressed and slipped into the welcoming water. The soap smelled almost as good to him as the soup. He liked to stay in the tub for a good long soak, but he felt too wide awake for soaking, and was eager to be outside with the other two. Unwrapping the hand, he was surprised to find how much it had healed overnight.

  When he came out, Kahlan and Zedd were sitting at the table waiting for him. Kahlan’s dress was freshly washed, he noticed, and she looked bathed, too. Her hair was clean and glistened in the sunlight. Green eyes sparkled up at him. A big bowl of soup waited for him next to her at the table, along with cheese and fresh bread.