Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  “Those left alive began leaving at once, taking what they could carry. More left the next day, some after burying members of their families. That night, a detachment of Westlanders came back, maybe fifty men. There were only a handful of townspeople left by that time. The people were told that resisters to Westland are not allowed to be buried, that they are to be left, for animals to pick clean, as a reminder to all of what will happen to any who resist the rule of Westland. To make their point, they collected all the men still left, even the boys, and executed them.” By Kahlan’s inflection of the word executed, and making no mention of the manner, he knew he didn’t want to know. “The little boy and the old man back there were somehow overlooked or they would have been killed too. The women were made to watch.” She paused.

  “How many women were left?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, not many.” She peered back up the trail, staring off toward the town a moment before her intensely angry eyes returned to his. “The soldiers raped the women. And the girls.” Her eyes burned into his. “Each one of those girls you saw back there was raped by at least . . .”

  “Westlanders did not do this!”

  She studied his face. “I know. But who? Why?” Her expression cooled back to calm.

  He stared back at her in frustration. “Isn’t there anything we can do for them?”

  “Our job is not to protect a few people, or the dead—it is to protect the living, by stopping Darken Rahl. We do not have the time to give—we must get to Tamarang. Whatever trouble is about, we had best stay off the roads.”

  “You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I don’t like it.”

  “Nor do I.” Her features softened. “Richard, I think they will be safe. Whatever army it was that did this is not likely to return for a couple of women and children—they will be off to hunt bigger game.”

  Some solace that was, that the killers would be off to hunt larger groups of people to hurt, in the name of his homeland. Richard thought about how he hated all this, and remembered how when he was back in Hartland, his biggest trouble was his brother always telling him what to do.

  “A group of soldiers that big isn’t going to be traveling by trail through a thick wood such as this, they’ll stay to the roads, but I think it best if we start looking for wayward pines at night. No telling who could be watching.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Richard, many people of my homeland have joined with Rahl, and done unspeakable crimes. Does that make you think less of me?”

  He frowned. “Of course not.”

  “And I would think no less of you were it Westland soldiers. It is no crime upon you, to have your countrymen do things you abhor. We are at war. We are trying to do as our ancestors have done in the past, Seekers and Confessors alike—dethrone a ruler. In this, there are only two we can count on. You and me.” She studied him with an intense, timeless expression. He realized he was gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. “A time may come when it is only you. We all do as we must.” It was not Kahlan who had spoken—it was the Mother Confessor.

  It was a hard, uncomfortable moment before she released his eyes, turning at last and starting off. He pulled his cloak tight, chilled from without, and within.

  “It was not Westlanders,” he muttered under his breath, following behind her.

  “Light for me,” Rachel said. The little pile of sticks with rocks all around burst into flame, lighting the inside of the wayward pine with a bright red glow. She put the fire stick back in her pocket and with a shiver warmed her hands at the fire as she looked down at Sara lying in her lap.

  “We’ll be safe here tonight,” she told her doll. Sara didn’t answer—she hadn’t talked since the night they ran away from the castle—so Rachel just pretended the doll was talking, telling her she loved her. She gave Sara’s silent words an answering hug.

  She pulled some berries from her pocket, eating them one at a time, warming her hands in between each one. Sara didn’t want any berries. Rachel nibbled on the piece of hard cheese—all the other food she had brought from the castle was gone. Except the loaf of bread, of course. But she couldn’t eat that—the box was hidden inside it.

  Rachel missed Giller something fierce, but she had to do as he had said—she had to keep running away, finding a new wayward pine every night. She didn’t know how far she was from the castle—she just kept going while it was day, the sun at her back in the morning and in her face at evening. She had learned that from Brophy. He called it traveling by the sun. She guessed that was what she was doing. Traveling.

  A pine bough moved by itself, making her start. She saw a big hand holding it back. Then the shiny blade of a long sword. She stared, her eyes wide. She couldn’t move.

  A man stuck his head in. “What have we here?” He smiled.

  Rachel heard a whine, and realized it was coming from her own throat. Still, she couldn’t move. A woman pushed her head in beside the man’s. She pulled the man back behind her. Rachel clutched Sara to her chest.

  “Put the sword away,” the woman scolded, “you’re scaring her.”

  Rachel pulled the partly unbundled loaf of bread close to her hip. She wanted to run, but her legs didn’t work. The woman pushed into the wayward pine, came close and knelt down, sitting back on her heels, the man right behind her. Rachel’s eyes looked up at her face—then she saw the woman’s long hair, lit by the firelight. Her eyes went even wider, and another cry came from her throat. At last her legs worked, at least a little: they scooted her backward against the trunk of the tree, pulling the bread with her. Women with long hair were always trouble. She bit down on Sara’s foot, panting, a whine coming with each breath. She squeezed Sara with all her strength. She tore her eyes from the woman’s hair—she darted glances to the sides, looking for a place to run.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” the woman said. Her voice sounded nice, but Princess Violet said the same thing, sometimes, just before she slapped her.

  The woman reached out and touched Rachel’s arm. She jumped with a cry, pulling back.

  “Please,” she said, her eyes filling with tears, “don’t burn Sara up.”

  “Who’s Sara?” the man asked.

  The woman turned and made him hush. She turned back, her long hair falling from her shoulder, Rachel’s eyes fixed on it. “I won’t burn Sara,” she said in a nice voice. Rachel knew that when a woman with long hair talked in a nice voice, it meant she was probably lying. Still, her voice did sound like it was really nice.

  “Please,” she whined, “can’t you just leave us be?”

  “Us?” The woman glanced around. She looked back, right to Sara. “Oh. I see. So this is Sara?” Rachel nodded, biting down harder on Sara’s foot. She knew she would get a hard slap if she didn’t answer a woman with long hair. “She’s a very nice looking doll.” She smiled. Rachel wished she wouldn’t smile. When women with long hair smiled, it usually meant there was going to be trouble.

  The man stuck his head around the woman. “My name’s Richard. What’s yours?”

  She liked his eyes. “Rachel.”

  “Rachel. That’s a pretty name. But I have to tell you, Rachel, you have the ugliest hair I’ve ever seen.”

  “Richard!” the woman squawked. “How could you say such a thing!”

  “Well, it’s true. Who cut it all crooked like that, Rachel, some old witch?”

  Rachel giggled.

  “Richard!” the woman squawked again. “You’re going to frighten her.”

  “Oh, nonsense. Rachel, I have a little scissors here in my pack, and I’m pretty good at cutting hair. Would you like me to fix your hair for you? At least I could make it straight. If you leave it like that, you might scare a dragon or something.”

  Rachel giggled again. “Yes, please. I would like to have my hair straight.”

  “All right then, come over here and sit on my lap and we’ll fix it right up.”

  Rachel got up and walked around the woman,
watching her hands, keeping far away, at least as far away as she could inside the wayward pine. Richard picked her up with a big hand on each side of her waist and set her on his lap. He pulled some strands of hair out. “Let’s have a look at what we have here.”

  Rachel kept an eye toward the woman, fearing a slap. He looked over, too. He pointed with the scissors.

  “This is Kahlan. She scared me at first, too. She’s awfully ugly, isn’t she?”

  “Richard! Where did you learn to speak to children like this!”

  He smiled. “Picked it up from a boundary warden I know.”

  Rachel giggled at him—she couldn’t help it. “I don’t think she’s ugly, I think she’s the prettiest lady I ever saw.” That was the truth. But Kahlan’s long hair scared her something fierce.

  “Well, thank you, Rachel, and you are very pretty, too. Are you hungry?”

  Rachel wasn’t ever supposed to tell anyone with long hair, any lord or lady, that she was hungry. Princess Violet said it was improper, and punished her one time for telling someone she was hungry when she was asked. She looked at up Richard’s face. He smiled, but still she was too afraid to tell Kahlan she was hungry.

  Kahlan patted her arm. “I bet you are. We caught some fish, and if you let us share your fire, we would share some fish with you. What do you say?” She smiled real pretty.

  Rachel looked up at Richard again. He gave her a wink, then sighed. “I’m afraid I caught more than we can eat. If you don’t help us, we’ll just have to throw some out.”

  “All right then. If you’re just going to throw them out, I’ll help you eat them.”

  Kahlan started taking off her pack. “Where are your parents?”

  Rachel told the truth because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Dead.”

  Richard’s hands stopped working, then started again. Kahlan got a look like she was sad, but Rachel didn’t know if it was real or not. She gave her a squeeze on her arm with a soft hand “I’m sorry, Rachel.” Rachel didn’t feel too sad—she didn’t remember her parents, only the place she lived with the other children.

  Richard snipped at her hair while Kahlan took out a pan and started to fry the fish. Richard was right, there were a lot of fish. Kahlan put some kind of spices on them while they cooked, as Rachel had seen cooks doing. It smelled so good, and her stomach was making noises. Little pieces of hair were falling down around her. She smiled to herself at how mad Princess Violet would be if she knew Rachel’s hair was cut straight. Richard snipped off one of the longer curls, and tied a thin little vine around one end of it. He put it in her hand. She frowned up at him.

  “You’re supposed to keep that. Then someday if you like a boy, you can give him a lock of your hair, and he can keep it in his pocket, right next to his heart.” He winked at her. “To remember you by.”

  Rachel giggled. “You’re the silliest man I ever saw.” He laughed. Kahlan smiled while she looked over at him. Rachel stuffed the lock of hair in her pocket. “Are you a lord?”

  “Sorry, Rachel, I’m just a woods guide.” His face got a little sad then. She was glad he wasn’t a lord. He turned and dug a little mirror out of his pack and handed it to her. “Have a look. Tell me what you think.”

  She held it up, trying to see herself in the mirror. It was the littlest mirror she ever saw, and it took a minute to get it in the right place so she could see herself in the firelight. When she did, her eyes went wide, and she got tears.

  She threw her arm around Richard. “Oh, thank you, Richard, thank you. It’s the prettiest my hair has ever been.” He gave her back a hug that felt as good as any Giller had ever given her. One of his big, warm hands rubbed her back. It was a long hug, too, the longest she had ever got, and she wished it would never end. But it did.

  Kahlan shook her head to herself. “You are a very rare person, Richard Cypher,” she whispered to him.

  Kahlan stuck a big piece of fish on a stick for her, and told her to blow on it until it was cool enough not to burn her mouth. Rachel blew a little, but she was too hungry to blow for long. It was the bestest fish she ever had. It was as good as the piece of meat the cooks had given her that one time.

  “Ready for another piece?” Kahlan asked. Rachel nodded. Then she pulled a knife from her belt. “Should we all have a slice of your bread with the fish?” She started to reach for it.

  Rachel dove for the loaf of bead, snatching it away just before Kahlan got her hand on it. Rachel hugged it to her with both arms. “No!” She pushed with her heels, scooting back, away from Kahlan.

  Richard stopped eating—Kahlan frowned. Rachel reached one hand into her pocket, her fingers clutching the fire stick Giller had given her.

  “Rachel? What’s the matter?” Kahlan asked.

  Giller had told her, told her not to trust anyone. She had to think of something. What would Giller say?

  “It’s for my grandmother!” She could feel a tear run down her cheek.

  “Well then,” Richard said, “since it’s for your grandmother, we won’t touch it. Promise. Isn’t that right, Kahlan?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Rachel, we didn’t know. I promise, too. Forgive me?”

  Rachel took her hand back out of her pocket, and nodded. The lump in her throat was too big to talk past.

  “Rachel,” Richard asked, “where is your grandmother?”

  Rachel froze stiff—she didn’t really have a grandmother. She tried to think of the name of a place she had heard of. She thought about places she had heard the Queen’s advisors name. She said the first one that came into her head.

  “Homers Mill.”

  Before the words were finished coming out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. Richard and Kahlan both got scared looks on their faces and turned to look at each other. It was real quiet for a minute—Rachel didn’t know what was going to happen. She looked to the sides of the wayward pine, the spaces between the branches.

  “Rachel, we won’t touch your grandmother’s bread,” Richard said in a soft voice, “we promise.”

  “Come, have another piece of fish,” Kahlan said. “You can leave the loaf of bread over there—we won’t bother it.”

  Rachel still didn’t move. She thought about running away, fast as she could, but she knew they could run faster, and would catch her. She had to do as Giller told her, hide with the box until winter, or all those people would get their heads chopped off.

  Richard picked up Sara, and put her on his lap. He pretended to give her a piece of fish. “Sara’s going to eat all the fish. If you want any, you better get over here and have your share. Come on, you can sit on my lap and eat. All right?”

  Rachel searched their faces, trying to decide if they were telling the truth. Women with long hair could lie easily. She looked at Richard—he didn’t look like he was lying. She got up and ran over to him. He pulled her into his lap, then put Sara on her lap.

  Rachel snuggled up against him while they all ate fish. She didn’t look at Kahlan. Sometimes when you looked at a lady with long hair, it was improper, Princess Violet said. She didn’t want to do anything that would get her a slap. Or anything to get taken off Richard’s lap. It was warm in his lap, and made her feel safe.

  “Rachel,” Richard said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t let you go to Homers Mill. There’s no one left in Homers Mill. It’s not safe.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll go somewhere else then.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not safe anywhere, Rachel,” Kahlan said. “We will take you with us, so you will be safe.”

  “Where?”

  Kahlan smiled. “We are going to Tamarang, to see the Queen.” Rachel stopped chewing. She couldn’t breathe. “We will take you with us. I’m sure the Queen will be able to find someone to take care of you, if I ask.”

  “Kahlan, are you sure about this?” Richard whispered. “What about the wizard?”

  Kahlan nodded and spoke softly to him. “We will see to her before I skin Giller.”


  Rachel forced herself to swallow, so she could breathe. She knew it! She knew she shouldn’t trust a woman with long hair. She almost cried—she was just starting to like Kahlan. Richard was so nice. Why would he be nice to Kahlan? Why would he even be with a woman mean enough to hurt Giller. It must be like when she was nice to Princess Violet, so she wouldn’t get hurt. He must be afraid of getting hurt, too. She felt sorry for Richard. She wished he could run away from Kahlan like she was running away from Princess Violet. Maybe she should tell Richard about the box, and he could run away from Kahlan with her.

  No. Giller said not to trust anyone. He might be too afraid of Kahlan, and tell her. She had to be brave for Giller. For all the other people. She had to get away.

  “We can deal with it in the morning,” Kahlan said. “We better get some sleep so we can be off at first light.”

  Richard nodded as he hugged her. “I’ll take the first watch. You get some sleep.”

  He picked her up and handed her to Kahlan. Rachel bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Kahlan hugged her tight. Rachel looked down at her knife—even the Princess didn’t have a knife. She put her arms out to Richard with a whine. Richard smiled and put Sara in her hands. That wasn’t what she wanted, but she hugged Sara tight, and bit down on her foot to keep from crying.

  Richard mussed her hair. “See you in the morning, little one.”

  And then he was gone, and she was alone with Kahlan, She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to be brave, she couldn’t cry. But then she did.

  Kahlan held her tight. Rachel shook. Fingers stroked her hair. Kahlan rocked her while Rachel eyed a dark gap in the boughs on the other side of the wayward pine. Kahlan’s chest was making funny little movements, and Rachel realized with wonder that she was crying, too. Kahlan put her cheek against the top of her head.

  She almost started to believe . . . but then she remembered what Princess Violet said sometimes—that it hurt more to punish than to be punished. Her eyes went wide at what Kahlan must be planning that would make her cry. Even Princess Violet never cried when she dealt out a punishment. Rachel cried harder, and shook.