Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  In shock, Kahlan held Dennee’s head, comforted her, telling her it would be all right.

  “Please, Kahlan . . . pull my dress down for me?” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a faraway place. Wet and weak. “My arms don’t work.”

  Past panic, Kahlan saw why. Dennee’s arms had been brutally broken. They lay useless at her sides, bent in places where they shouldn’t be bent. Blood trickled from one ear. Kahlan pulled what was left of the blood-soaked dress over her sister, covering her as best she could. Her head spun with the horror of what the men had done. The choking feeling in her throat wouldn’t let words come out. She strained to hold back her screams, fearful of frightening her sister any more. She knew she had to be strong for her this one last time.

  Dennee whispered Kahlan’s name, beckoning her closer. “Darken Rahl did this to me . . . he wasn’t here, but he did this to me.”

  “I know,” Kahlan said with all the tenderness she could gather. “Lie still, it will be all right. I will take you home.” She knew it was a lie, knew Dennee would not be all right.

  “Please, Kahlan,” she whispered, “kill him. Stop this madness. I wish I were strong enough. Kill him for me.”

  Anger boiled up in her. It was the first time Kahlan had ever wanted to use her power to hurt someone, to kill someone. She had gone to the brink of feeling something she had never felt before or since. A terrible wrath, a force from deep within—a frightening birthright. With shaking fingers, she stroked Dennee’s bloody hair.

  “I will,” she promised.

  Dennee relaxed back in her arms. Kahlan took off the bone necklace and placed it around her sister’s neck.

  “I want you to have this. It will help protect you.”

  “Thank you, Kahlan.” She smiled, tears rolling from her wide eyes, down the pale skin of her cheeks. “But nothing can protect me now. Save yourself. Don’t let them get you. They enjoy it. They hurt me so much . . . and they enjoyed it. They laughed at me.”

  Kahlan closed her eyes against the sickening sight of her sister’s pain, rocked her in her arms, and kissed her forehead.

  “Remember me, Kahlan. Remember the fun we had.”

  “Bad memories?”

  Kahlan’s head snapped up, jolted out of her thoughts. The Bird Man stood beside her, having come up silently, unnoticed. She nodded, looking away from his gaze.

  “Please forgive me for showing weakness,” she said, clearing her throat as her fingers wiped the tears from her face.

  He regarded her with soft brown eyes and sat lightly beside her on the short bench.

  “It is not a weakness, child, to be a victim.”

  She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and swallowed back the wail that was trying to fight its way out of her throat.

  She felt so alone. She so missed Dennee. The Bird Man put his arm tenderly around her shoulder and gave her a short, fatherly hug.

  “I was thinking of my sister, Dennee. She was murdered by order of Darken Rahl. I found her . . . She died in my arms . . . They hurt her so bad. Rahl is not content to kill. He must see to it that people suffer before they die.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Though we be different peoples, we hurt the same.” With his thumb, he brushed a tear from her cheek, then reached into his pocket. “Hold out your hand.”

  She did as he asked, and he poured some small seeds in it. Surveying the sky, he blew the whistle that made no sound, the one that hung from his neck, and shortly a small, bright yellow bird lit with a flutter upon his finger. He placed his hand next to hers so it could climb over and eat the seeds. Kahlan could feel its tiny little feet gripping her finger while it pecked away at the seeds. The bird was so bright and pretty it made her smile. The Bird Man’s leathery face smiled with her. When it finished eating, the bird fluffed itself up and sat contentedly, without fear.

  “I thought you might like to gaze upon a small vision of beauty among the ugliness.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled.

  “Do you wish to keep him?”

  Kahlan watched the bird a moment longer, its bright yellow feathers, the way it cocked its head, and then cast it into the air.

  “I have no right,” she said, watching the bird flit away. “It should be free.”

  A small smile brightened the Bird Man’s face as he gave a single nod. Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees, he looked over at the spirit house. The work was almost done, maybe one more day. Long, silver-gray hair slipped off his shoulders and down around his face, hiding his expression from her. Kahlan sat awhile and watched Richard working on the roof. She ached to have him hold her right now, and hurt all the more because she knew she couldn’t allow it.

  “You wish to kill him, this man, Darken Rahl?” he asked without turning to her.

  “Very much.”

  “And is your power enough?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “And does the Seeker’s blade have enough power to kill him?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  The clouds were getting darker as the day was drawing to an end. Light rain was beginning to fall once more, and the gloom among the buildings was deepening.

  “As you said yourself, it is dangerous to be with a Confessor who is in great want of something. I think this is also true of the Seeker. Maybe even more so.”

  She paused a moment, then spoke softly. “I do not wish to put words to what Darken Rahl did with his own hands to Richard’s father—it would make you fear the Seeker all the more. But know that Richard would also have let the bird fly free.”

  The Bird Man seemed to laugh without sound. “You and I are too smart for these tricks with words. Let us speak without them.” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I have tried to tell the other elders what a wonderful thing the Seeker is doing for our people, how good it is that he is teaching us these things. They are not so sure, as they are set in their ways and can be stubborn, sometimes almost beyond my tolerance. I fear what you and the Seeker will do to my people if the elders say no.”

  “Richard has given you his word that he will not harm your people.”

  “Words are not as strong as a father’s blood. Or as strong as a sister’s.”

  Kahlan leaned back against the wall, pulling her cloak around her, shutting out the wet breeze. “I am a Confessor because I was born so. I did not seek the power. I would have chosen otherwise, would have chosen to be like other people. But I must live with what I was given, and make the best of it. Despite what you may think of the Confessors, despite what most people think, we are here to serve the people, to serve the truth. I love all the people of the Midlands, and would give my life to protect them, to keep them free. That is all I wish to do. And yet I am alone.”

  “Richard keeps his eyes on you, he watches over you, cares for you.”

  She looked over out of the corner of her eye. “Richard is from Westland. He does not know what I am. If he knew . . .”

  The Bird Man lifted his eyebrow at hearing this. “For one who serves the truth . . .”

  “Please do not remind me. It is trouble of my own making, with consequences I must bear, and fear greatly. And that only proves my words. The Mud People live in a land distant from the other peoples. That has given them the luxury of being out of reach of trouble in the past. This trouble has long arms—it will reach you. The elders can argue against helping all they want, but they will not be able to argue against the fangs of truth. All of your people will pay the price if these few put pride before wisdom.”

  The Bird Man listened carefully, respectfully. Kahlan turned to him.

  “I cannot honestly say at this moment what I will do if the elders say no. It is not my wish to harm your people, but to save them from the pain I have seen. I have seen what Darken Rahl does to people. I know what he will do. If I knew I could somehow stop Rahl by killing Savidlin’s precious little boy, I would do it without hesitation, with my bare hands if need be, because as muc
h as the doing of it would wound my heart, I know I would be saving all the other precious little children. It is a terrifying burden I carry, the burden of the warrior. You are one who has killed other men to save others, and I know you take no joy in it. Darken Rahl takes joy in it, believe me. Please, help me save your people without hurting any of them.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I want so much not to hurt anyone.”

  Tenderly he drew her to him and let her sob against his shoulder. “The people of the Midlands are fortunate to have you as their warrior.”

  “If we can find the thing we seek, and keep it from Darken Rahl until the first day of winter, he will die. No one else will have to be hurt. But we must have help to find it.”

  “The first day of winter. Child, that is not much time. This season withers away, the next will be here soon.”

  “I do not make the rules of life, honored elder. If you know the secret to stopping time, please tell me, that I might make it so.”

  He sat quietly, without an answer. “I have watched you among our people before. You have always respected our wishes, never acted to bring us harm. It is the same with the Seeker. I am on your side, child, I will do my best to win over the others. I only hope my words to them will be enough. I wish my people to come to no harm.”

  “It is not the Seeker or me you must fear if they say no,” she said as she lay against his shoulder, staring off at nothing in particular. “It is the one from D’Hara. He will come like a storm and destroy you. You have no chance against him. He will butcher you.”

  That night in the warmth of Savidlin’s home, sitting on the floor, Kahlan told Siddin the story of the fisherman who turned into a fish and lived in the lake, cleverly stealing bait from hooks without ever being caught. It was an old story her mother had told her when she was as little as he. The wonder in his face made her remember her own excitement when she had first heard it.

  Later, while Weselan cooked sweet roots, the pleasant aroma mingling with the smoke, Savidlin showed Richard how to carve proper arrow points for different animals, harden them in the coals of the cooking fire, and apply poison to their tips. Kahlan lay on a skin on the floor with Siddin curled up in a ball, snuggled asleep against her stomach as she stroked his dark hair. She had to swallow back the lump in her throat as she thought about how she had told the Bird Man she would even be willing to kill this little boy.

  She wished she could take back those words. She hated that it was true, but wished she had not put words to it. Richard hadn’t seen her talking to the Bird Man, and she did not tell him of their conversation. She saw no point in worrying him—what would happen would happen. She only hoped the elders would listen to reason.

  The next day was windy and exceptionally warm, with occasional periods of driving rain. By early afternoon a crowd had gathered at the spirit house as the roof was completed and a fire started in the new fireplace. Cries of excitement and wonder rose from the people when the first wisps of smoke emerged from the chimney. They peeked in the doorway to see the fire burning without filling the room with smoke. The idea of living without smoke in their eyes seemed as thrilling as living without water dripping on their heads. A wind-driven rain like this was the worst. It went right through the grass roofs.

  Everyone watched with glee as water ran off the tiles of the roof and none went inside. Richard was in a good mood as he climbed down. The roof was finished, it didn’t leak, the fireplace drew well, and everyone was joyous because of what he had done for them. The men who had helped were proud of what they had accomplished, what they had learned. They acted as guides, excitedly showing off the finer points of the construction.

  Ignoring the onlookers, stopping only to strap on his sword, Richard headed for the center of the village, where the elders waited under one of the open pole buildings. Kahlan fell in to his left, Savidlin to the right, intending to stand up for him. The crowd watched him go, then swept behind, spilling around the buildings, laughing and shouting. Richard’s jaw was set tight.

  “Do you think you need to take the sword?” she asked.

  He looked to her as he continued his long strides. He smiled crookedly. Rainwater ran from his wet, matted hair. “I am the Seeker.”

  She gave him a disapproving look. “Richard, don’t play games with me. You know what I mean.”

  His smile widened. “I’m hoping it will serve as a reminder of why they should do the right thing.”

  Kahlan had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, that things were spinning beyond her control, that Richard was going to do something terrible if the elders turned him down. He had been working hard, from when he woke until he fell into bed, the whole time with the single thought that he would win them over. He had won over most people, but they were not the people who counted. She was afraid he hadn’t given rational thought to what he would do if the word was no.

  Toffalar stood tall and proud at the center of the leaking pole structure. The rain dripping around him splashed in little puddles on the floor. Surin, Caldus, Arbrin, Breginderin, and Hajanlet stood to his sides. They each wore their coyote hides, something Kahlan had learned they did only when official events were taking place. It seemed as if the whole village was out. They spread around the open area, sitting under roofs of the open buildings, filling windows, all watching as work stopped and they waited to hear the elders speak of their future.

  Kahlan caught sight of the Bird Man standing among some armed men to the side of a pole that held up the roof over the elders’ heads. When their eyes met, her heart sank. She grabbed the sleeve of Richard’s shirt, leaning toward him.

  “Don’t forget, no matter what these men say, we must get out of here if we are to have a chance of stopping Rahl. We are two, they are many, sword or no sword.”

  He ignored her. “Honored elders,” he started in a loud, clear voice. She translated as he spoke. “It is my privilege to report to you that the spirit house has a new roof that does not leak. It has also been my privilege to teach your people how to build these roofs so they may improve the other buildings of your village. I did this out of respect for your people, and I expect nothing in return. I only hope you are pleased.”

  The six stood grim-faced as Kahlan translated. There was a long silence when she finished.

  At last Toffalar spoke in a determined voice. “We are not pleased.”

  Richard’s expression turned dark when she told him Toffalar’s words. “Why?”

  “A little rain does not melt the strength of the Mud People. Your roof may not leak, but only because it is clever. Clever as the ways of outsiders. They are not our ways. It would only be the beginning of outsiders telling us what to do. We know what you want. You want to be named one of us so we will call a gathering for you. Just another clever trick of an outsider to get from us what will serve you. You wish to draw us into your fight. We say no!” He turned to Savidlin. “The roof of the spirit house will be put back to the way it was. The way our honored ancestors wanted it.”

  Savidlin was livid, but he did not move. The elder, a slight smile on his pinched lips, turned back to Richard.

  “Now that your tricks have failed,” he said with disdain “would you think to harm our people, Richard With The Temper?” It was a taunt, aimed to discredit Richard.

  Richard looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him. His glare turned briefly to the Bird Man, then back to the six under the shelter. She held her breath. The crowd was dead quiet. He turned slowly to them.

  “I will not harm your people,” he said in an even voice. There was a collective sigh of relief when Kahlan spoke his words. When it was quiet again, he went on. “But I will mourn for what is going to happen to them.” Without turning back to the elders, his arm slowly lifted as he pointed to them. “For you six, I will not mourn. I do not mourn the death of fools.” His words came out like poison. The crowd gasped.

  Toffalar’s face twisted into bitter rage. Whispers and fear spread through the onlookers. Kahlan glanced over to the B
ird Man. He seemed to have aged years. She could see in his heavy brown eyes how sorry he was. For a moment their eyes locked and they shared the grief of what they both knew was going to sweep over all their lives—then his gaze sank to the ground.

  In a sudden flash of movement, Richard spun toward the elders, pulling free the Sword of Truth. It was so fast almost everyone, including the elders, flinched back a step in shock and then froze in place, the six faces reflecting the fear that kept them paralyzed. The crowd began creeping back—the Bird Man had not moved. Kahlan feared Richard’s anger, and understood it, too. She decided not to interfere, but to do what was necessary to protect the Seeker, whatever he did next. Not even a whisper was uttered—the only sound in the dead silence was the distinctive ringing of steel. With his teeth gritted, Richard pointed the glinting sword at the elders, its tip inches from their faces.

  “Have the courage to do one last thing for your people.” Richard’s tone sent a chill through her. Kahlan translated out of reflex, too transfixed to do anything else. Then, unbelievably, he turned the sword around, holding it by the point, holding the hilt out to the elders. “Take my sword,” he commanded. “Use it to kill the women and children. It will be more merciful than what Darken Rahl will do to them. Have the courage to spare them the torture they will suffer. Give them the charity of a quick death.” His countenance withered their expressions.

  Kahlan could hear women starting to cry softly as they clutched their children. The elders, in the grip of a terror they hadn’t expected, did not move. At last their eyes fled from Richard’s glare. When it was clear to all they did not have the courage to take the sword, Richard painstakingly slid it back into its scabbard, as if slowly extinguishing their last chance at salvation—an unequivocal gesture that the elders had forfeited forever the aid of the Seeker. The finality of it was frightening.

  Then at last he broke his hot glare at them and turned to her, his face changing. When she saw the look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. It was a look of heartache for a people he had come to love, but could not help. All eyes stayed on him as he closed the distance between them and took her gently by the arm.