Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  “Because it hurts, Mistress Denna.”

  “I’ve had much worse than this done to me. This was only a small reminder of who I am. But still, I can’t stop shaking.”

  She lay facedown on the bed, her eyes on him. Richard’s worry made his mind start working again.

  “Mistress Denna, is my pack still here?”

  “In the cabinet. Why?”

  “Just lie still. Mistress Denna, let me do something, if I can remember how.”

  He pulled his pack from a high shelf in the cabinet, laid it on the table, and started rummaging through it. Denna watched him, the side of her face resting on the backs of her hands. Beneath a carved bone whistle on a leather thong, he found the package he was searching for, and laid it open on the table. He pulled out a tin bowl, took his knife from his belt, and laid it, too, on the table. He stood and took a jar of cream from the cabinet. He had seen her spread it on her skin. It was just what he needed.

  “Mistress Denna, may I use this?”

  “Why?”

  “Please?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Richard took the entire pile of neatly stacked, dried aum leaves and put them in the tin bowl, then selected a few other herbs he remembered by smell, but not by name, and dumped them in with the aum leaves. With the knife handle, he ground it all into a powder. Picking up the jar of cream, he scooped it all out and plopped it into the bowl, mixing it with two fingers. He took the bowl and sat on the bed next to her.

  “Just lie still,” he told her.

  “The appellation, Richard, the appellation. Will you never learn?”

  “Sorry, Mistress Denna,” he smiled. “You may punish me later. For now, lie still. When I’m finished you will feel well enough to punish me all night. I promise.”

  He spread the paste gently on the welts, smoothing it out as he went. Denna moaned. Her eyes closed while he worked. By the time he reached the back of her ankles, she was almost asleep. He stroked her hair while the aum cream soaked in.

  “How does that feel, Mistress Denna?” he whispered.

  She rolled onto her side, her eyes opening wide. “The pain is gone! How did you do that? How did you make the pain leave?”

  Richard smiled in satisfaction. “I learned it from an old friend named . . .” He frowned. “I can’t remember his name. But he’s an old friend, and he taught me. I’m so relieved, Mistress Denna. I don’t like to see you in pain.”

  She gently touched her fingers to the side of his face. “You are a very rare person, Richard Cypher. I have never had a mate like you before. The spirits take me, I have never even seen a person like you before. I killed the one who did the things to me that I have done to you, and you instead help me.”

  “We all can be only who we are, no more, and no less, Mistress Denna.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t like what Master Rahl has done to you.”

  “You don’t understand about the Mord-Sith, my love. We are carefully selected, as young girls. Those chosen to be Mord-Sith are the most gentle, the most kindhearted, that can be found. It is said that the deepest cruelty comes from the deepest caring. All of D’Hara is searched, and each year only about a half dozen are chosen. A Mord-Sith is broken three times.”

  His eyes were wide. “Three times?” he whispered.

  Denna nodded. “The first is the way in which I broke you, to break the spirit. The second is to break our empathy. To do it, we must watch our trainer break our mother, and make her his pet, and watch him hurt her until she dies. The third is to break us of our fear of hurting another, to make us enjoy giving pain. To do it, we must break our fathers, under the guidance of our trainer, and make him our pet, and keep hurting him until we kill him.”

  Tears trickled down Richard’s cheeks. “They did all this to you?”

  “What I did to you, to break you, is nothing compared to what must be done to us to break us the second and third time. The more kindhearted a girl is, the better Sith she makes, but it makes it harder to break her the second and third time. Master Rahl thinks me special because they had a very difficult time with the second breaking of me. My mother lived a long time, to try to keep me from giving up hope, but that only made it harder. On both of us. They failed at the third breaking, had given up, and were going to kill me, but Master Rahl said that if I could be broken, I would be someone special, and so took over my training himself. He is the one who broke me the third time. On the day I killed my father, he took me to his bed, as a reward. His reward left me barren.”

  Richard could hardly speak past the lump in his throat. With shaking fingers, he brushed some of her hair back off her face. “I don’t want anyone hurting you. Not ever again, Mistress Denna.”

  “It is an honor,” Denna whispered through tears, “that Master Rahl would spare the time to punish one as low as me with my own Agiel.”

  Richard sat numb. “I hope he kills me tomorrow, so I don’t have to learn anything else that gives me this much pain, Mistress Denna.”

  Her wet eyes shone in the lamplight. “I have done things to hurt you that I have done to no other, yet you are the first person since I was chosen who has done anything to stop my pain.” She sat up and picked up the tin bowl. “There is some left. Let me put it on you where Constance did what I told her not to.”

  Denna spread the aum cream on the welts on his shoulders, then on his stomach and chest, working up to his neck. Her eyes met his. Her hand stopped. The room was dead quiet. Denna leaned forward and gently kissed him. She put her hand with the cream on the back of his neck and kissed him again.

  She lay back on the bed, holding his hand against her belly with both of hers. “Come to me, my love. I want you very badly right now.”

  He nodded and started to reach for the Agiel on the side table. Denna touched his wrist.

  “Tonight, I want you without the Agiel. Please? Teach me what it’s like without the pain?”

  She put a hand behind his neck and gently pulled him on top of her.

  Chapter 43

  Denna didn’t train him the next morning, but instead took him for a walk. Master Rahl had said he wanted to see Richard after the second devotion. After it was over and they were starting to leave, Constance stopped them.

  “You look surprisingly well today, Sister Denna.”

  Denna looked at her without emotion. Richard was furious at Constance for talking to Master Rahl about Denna, for getting her punished, and had to concentrate on Denna’s braid.

  Constance turned to Richard. “Well, I hear you are to be granted an audience with Master Rahl today. If you are still alive afterward, you will be seeing more of me. Alone. I want a piece of you, as it were, when he’s finished with you.”

  He spoke before he thought. “The year they chose you, Mistress Constance, must have been a year of desperate need—otherwise, one of such limited intelligence would never have been selected to be Mord-Sith. Only the most ignorant would put their own petty ambitions above the value of a friend. Especially a friend who has sacrificed much for you. You are not worthy to kiss Mistress Denna’s Agiel.” Richard smiled smoothly, confidently, as she stood startled. “You had better hope Master Rahl kills me, Mistress Constance, because if he doesn’t, then the next time I see you, I’m going to kill you for what you’ve done to Mistress Denna.”

  Constance stared in shock, then suddenly drove her Agiel toward him. Denna’s longer arm came up. She slammed her own Agiel against Constance’s throat, holding her back. Constance’s eyes bulged in surprise. She coughed blood, and dropped to her knees, clutching her hands to her throat.

  Denna stared down at her a moment before starting off without a word. Richard followed, attached by the chain. He sped up to walk beside her.

  Denna kept her eyes ahead, showing no emotion. “Just try and guess how many hours that has earned you.”

  Richard smiled. “Mistress Denna, if there is a Mord-Sith who could raise a scream from a dead man, it would be you.”

  “And if Mas
ter Rahl doesn’t kill you, how many hours?”

  “Mistress Denna, there are not enough hours in a lifetime to dim my pleasure at what I have done.”

  She smiled a little, but didn’t look over. “I’m glad, then, that it was worth it for you.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I still don’t understand you. As you said, we can be no more, no less, than who we are. I regret I can be no more than I am, and I fear you can be no less. Were we not warriors fighting on opposite sides in this war, I would keep you as a mate for life, and work to see you die of old age.”

  Richard was warmed by her gentle tone. “I would try my best to live a long life for you, Mistress Denna.”

  They walked on through the halls, past the devotion squares, past the statues, past the people. She took him upstairs, through vast rooms of exquisite decorations. She stopped in front of a pair of doors covered in carvings of rolling hills and forests, all sheathed in gold.

  Denna turned to him. “Are you prepared to die this day, my love?”

  “The day is not over yet, Mistress Denna.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. She pulled her face away a few inches, stroked the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Richard, that I do these things to you, but I have been trained to do them, and can do nothing less—I live only to hurt you. Know that it is not by choice, but by training. I can be no more than what I am: Mord-Sith. If you are to die this day, my love, then make me proud, and die well.”

  He was mate to a madwoman, he thought sadly. And one not of her own making.

  She pushed the doors open and entered a grand garden. Richard would have been impressed, had his mind not been on other things. They went down a path between flowers and shrubs, past short, vine covered stone walls, and small trees, to an expanse of lawn. A glass roof let in the light, keeping the plants healthy and in flower.

  In the distance were two identically huge men. Their folded arms had metal bands with sharp projections just above their elbows. Guards of some sort, Richard thought. To their side stood another man. Imposing muscles flexed on his smooth chest. His short-cropped blond hair stood up in spikes, with a single black streak running through it.

  Near the center of the lawn, near a circle of white sand, in a warm shaft of late-afternoon sunlight, stood a man with his back to them. The sunlight made his white robes and shoulder-length blond hair glow. Sparks of the sunlight glinted off the gold belt and curved dagger at his waist.

  As Richard and Denna approached him, Denna dropped to her knees, putting her forehead to the ground. Richard had been instructed and did the same as he pushed his sword out of the way.

  Together, they chanted. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

  They chanted only once, then waited, Richard trembling slightly. He remembered that he was never to get near Master Rahl, to stay away from him, but couldn’t remember who told him so, only that it was important. He had to concentrate on Denna’s braid, to control the anger at what Master Rahl had done to her.

  “Rise, my children.”

  Richard stood with his shoulder close against Mistress Denna while intense blue eyes studied him. That the Master’s face looked kind, intelligent, pleasant, did not calm Richard’s churning fears, and the thoughts that boiled just below the surface of his mind. The blue eyes glided to Denna.

  “You look surprisingly well this morning, my pet.”

  “Mistress Denna is as good at taking pain as giving it, Master Rahl,” Richard heard himself say.

  The blue eyes returned to his. The calmness, the peace, in Rahl’s face made Richard quiver. “My pet has told me you are nothing but trouble. I am pleased to see she has not lied to me. But not pleased to find it true.” He clasped his hands in a relaxed manner. “Well, no matter. How good to meet you at last, Richard Cypher.”

  Denna drove the Agiel into his back with a sharp jab to remind him of what it was he was supposed to say. “It is my honor to be here, Master Rahl. I live only to serve. I am humbled in your presence.”

  A small smile came to Rahl’s lips. “Yes, I am sure you are.” He studied Richard’s face for an uncomfortable moment. “I have some questions. You are going to give me the answers.”

  Richard felt himself shaking slightly. “Yes, Master Rahl.”

  “Kneel,” he said softly.

  Richard went to his knees with the aid of the Agiel on his shoulder. Denna stepped behind and put a boot to each side of him. She pressed her thighs against his shoulders, bracing against them for leverage as she held his hair in her fist. She pulled his head back a little, making him look up into the Master’s blue eyes. Richard swallowed in terror.

  Darken Rahl looked down without emotion. “You have seen the Book of Counted Shadows before?”

  Something powerful in the back of his mind told Richard he shouldn’t answer. When he said nothing, Denna tightened her grip on his hair, and pushed the Agiel against the base of his skull.

  There was a stunning explosion of pain in his head. Denna’s grip on his hair was all that kept him upright. It was as if she had compressed the pain of an entire training session into that one touch. He couldn’t move, breathe, or even cry out. He was beyond being in pain—the shock took everything from him, and in its place left an all-consuming agony of fire and ice. She took away the Agiel. He didn’t know where he was, who he was, or who was holding him, only that this was more pain than he had ever known before, and that there was a man in front of him, dressed in a white robe.

  Blue eyes looked down at him. “You have seen the Book of Counted Shadows before?”

  “Yes,” he heard himself say.

  “Where is it now?”

  Richard hesitated. He didn’t know how to answer—he didn’t know what the voice wanted. The pain exploded in his head again. When it stopped, he felt tears running down his cheeks.

  “Where is it now?” the voice repeated.

  “Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” he cried. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “What is there not to understand? Simply tell me where the book is now.”

  “The book, or the knowledge of the book?” Richard asked fearfully.

  The blue eyes frowned. “The book.”

  “I burned it in a fire. Years ago.”

  Richard thought the eyes were going to tear him apart. “And where is the knowledge?”

  Richard hesitated too long. When he was aware again, Denna yanked his head up to look into the blue eyes again. Richard had never felt so alone, so helpless, so afraid.

  “Where is the knowledge that was in the book?”

  “In my head. Before I burned the book, I learned the words, the knowledge.”

  The man stood staring, unmoving. Richard cried softly.

  “Recite the words of the book.”

  Richard desperately didn’t want the Agiel in the back of his head again. He shook with the fear of it. “Verification of the truth of the words of the Book of Counted Shadows, if spoken by another, rather than read by the one who commands the boxes, can only be insured by the use of a Confessor . . .” Confessor.

  Kahlan.

  The name Kahlan went through Richard’s mind like a bolt of lightning. The power roared to life, blasting away the fog with the burning, white-hot glare of his memories. The door to the locked room in his mind was flung open. It all came back to him, brought back by the power as it rose in him. Richard was one with the power, at the thought of Darken Rahl having Kahlan—hurting her.

  Darken Rahl turned to the other men. The one with the black stripe came forward.

  “You see, my friend? The fates work for me. She is already on her way here with the Old One. Find her. See to it she is brought to me. Take two quads, but I want her alive, do you understand?” The man gave a nod. “You and your men will have the protection of my spell. The Old One is with her, bu
t he will have no weapon against an underworld spell, if he is even alive by then.” Rahl’s voice became harder. “And Demmin, I don’t care what your men do to her, but she had better be alive when she gets here, and able to use her power.”

  A little of the color left the man’s face. “I understand. It will be done as you wish, Lord Rahl.” He bowed deep.

  He turned and left after meeting Richard’s eyes and giving a knowing smile.

  Darken Rahl returned his blue eyes to Richard. “Continue.”

  Richard had gone as far as he was going to go. He remembered everything.

  It was time to die.

  “I will not. There is nothing you can do to make me tell you. I welcome the pain. I welcome death.”

  Before the Agiel could come, Rahl’s eyes snapped up to Denna. Richard felt her fist loosen on his hair. One of the guards marched forward, grabbed her by the throat with his big hand, squeezing, until Richard could hear her struggling to breathe.

  Rahl glared at her. “You told me he was broken.”

  “He was, Master Rahl.” She struggled to speak as she was being choked. “I swear.”

  “I am very disappointed in you, Denna.”

  As the man lifted her feet off the ground, Richard could hear her sounds of pain. Again, the power turned white-hot in him. Denna was being hurt. Before anyone knew what was happening, he was on his feet, the power of the magic raging through him.

  Richard threw one arm around the man’s thick neck, grasping his opposite shoulder. He grabbed the man’s head with his other arm and in a blink gave a powerful twist. The man’s neck snapped. He went down in a heap.

  Richard spun. The other guard was almost on him, his hand reaching out. Richard seized the man’s wrist and used his advancing weight to pull his adversary into the knife. He drove it in up to his fist and gave a mighty pull, cutting all the way up to the man’s heart as his blue eyes went wide in surprise. His insides spilled across the ground when he hit.