Stone of Tears

by Terry Goodkind

  "It's magic," she told him. "That's what you're doing. Magic."

  "No, it's not. Everyone can do it. Chandalen's men are doing it when they shoot. Everyone who gets good enough does it. It's your own mind doing it. I just helped by showing you. If you had practiced long enough, you would have learned it by yourself before now. Just because you don't know how something is done, doesn't make it magic."

  She gave him a sideways look. "I'm not so sure. You shoot. Let me tickle you while you try to shoot."

  "After we have something to eat. And you practice some more."

  They flattened a circle of grass, like a nest, and lay on their backs, watching the birds wheel in the sky as they ate tava bread wrapped around greens, handfuls of kuru, and drank water from a skin. The surrounding grass protected them a little, so the wind didn't feel quite so cold. She laid her head on his shoulder as they watched the sky in silence. She knew they were both wondering what they were going to do.

  "Maybe," Richard said at last, "I could partition my mind again, to control the headaches. Darken Rahl said that was what I had done."

  "You talked to him? You talked to Darken Rahl?"

  "Yes. Actually, he did most of the talking. I mostly listened. He told me a lot of things. I don't believe all of them. He told me George Cypher wasn't my father. He told me I had partitioned my mind, and that I have the gift. He told me I had been betrayed. Because of what Shota said—that you and Zedd would both use your magic against me—I thought one of you had betrayed us. I never thought of my brother.

  "Maybe if I could figure out how to partition my mind again, I could control the headaches so they wouldn't kill me. Maybe that's what the Sisters teach. I've already done it once, so if I could do it again, I might be able to save myself without..."

  He rested an arm over his eyes, not wanting to finish the thought out loud. "Kahlan, maybe I don't have the gift. It could just be the Wizard's First Rule."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Zedd told us that much of what people believe is wrong. The First Rule can make you believe something is true either because you want it to be true, or because you are afraid it might be. I'm afraid of having the gift, and that fear makes me accept the possibility that what the Sisters say is true. It could be there are other reasons the Sisters want me to think I have the gift, and that it isn't true. Maybe I don't have it."

  "Richard, do you really think you can dismiss all the other things that have happened? Zedd said you have the gift, Darken Rahl said you have the gift, the Sisters say you have the gift, even Scarlet says you have the gift."

  "Scarlet doesn't know what she is talking about, I don't trust the Sisters, and do you think I would believe anything Darken Rahl said?"

  "And what about Zedd? Do you think Zedd is lying? Or that he doesn't know what he is talking about? You have told me you think he is the smartest man you know. Besides, he is a Wizard of the First Order. Do you really think a Wizard of the First Order wouldn't know the gift when he saw it?"

  "Zedd could be wrong. Just because he's smart, that doesn't mean he knows everything."

  Kahlan thought a while about his reluctance to accept that he had the gift. She wished, for his sake, that it could be the way he wanted it, but she knew the truth.

  "Richard, at the People's Palace, when I touched you with my power, and we all thought it had taken you, and didn't know you had figured out how not to be consumed by the magic, you recited the Book of Counted Shadows to Darken Rahl, didn't you?" He nodded. "I couldn't believe you did that. How did you know it? Where did you ever learn the book?"

  Richard sighed. "When I was young, my father took me to a place where he had it hidden. He told me it was being guarded by a beast sent by covetous hands, to watch over it, until that person could come for the book. So he rescued it. I know now that they were the hands of Darken Rahl, but at the time we didn't know that; my father said he had to take it because otherwise it would be stolen by those hands.

  "He feared that person might eventually find it, so he had me memorize it. All of it. He said I had to know every word, so that someday I could return the knowledge to the keeper of the book. He didn't know that was Zedd was the book's keeper. It took me years to memorize every word of the book. He never looked in it, he said that was for only me to do. After I had learned it all perfectly, we burned the book. I'll never forget that day. Light and sound and strange forms came forth as the book burned."

  "Magic," she whispered.

  He nodded as he rested his wrist over his eyes again. "My father died keeping the book from Darken Rahl. He was a hero. He saved us all by his actions."

  Kahlan tried to think of how to put words to the things she was thinking, the things she knew. "Zedd told us the Book of Counted Shadows was kept in his keep. How did your father get it?"

  "He never told me that."

  "Richard, I was born and raised in Aydindril. I spent a good portion of my life in the wizards' keep. It's a huge fortress. In times long ago, hundreds of wizards lived there. When I grew up, there were only the six, and none were wizards of the First Order.

  "It is not an easy place to enter. I was able to because I am a Confessor, and needed to learn from books kept there. All the Confessors had access to the keep. But it was protected, by magic, from any others entering."

  "If you're asking, I don't know how my father did it. He was a pretty smart man; he must have figured it out."

  "If the book was in the keep itself, maybe. There were wizards and Confessors coming and going, and at times others were permitted to enter. Perhaps someone could have found a way to sneak in. Even once inside, there are areas protected more strongly by magic. Areas even I could not enter.

  "But Zedd said the Book of Counted Shadows was an important book of magic, very important. He said he kept it in his keep: the Wizard of the First Order's keep. That is altogether different. It's separate from the rest, part of the larger keep, but set off by itself.

  "I've walked the long ramparts to the First Wizard's keep. There is a beautiful view of Aydindril from there. Just walking the ramparts, I could feel the awesome power of the spells that protect that place. It made your skin crawl. If you went close enough, the power of the protection spells made the hair lift off your shoulders and stick out in all directions, popping and snapping with little sparks. If you went closer still, the spells filled you with a sensation of dread so strong you couldn't force your feet take another step, or your lungs to draw another breath.

  "Since Zedd left the Midlands, before we were born, none had entered the First Wizard's keep. The other wizards tried. To enter, there is a plate you must touch. It is said touching the plate is like touching the frozen heart of the Keeper himself. If the magic doesn't recognize you as one permitted entry, you cannot gain entrance. Touching the plate without at least the protection of your own magic, or even just getting close enough to the spells themselves, can be death.

  "Since I was young, and first went to the keep to learn from the books, the wizards had been trying to get in. They wanted to know what was inside. The First Wizard was gone, and they thought they should take an inventory, thought they should at least know what was in there.

  "They never succeeded. Not one of them was ever able to so much as place a hand to the plate. Richard, if five wizards of the Third Order, and one of the Second, could not get in, how did your father?"

  He sighed. "I wish I had an answer for you, Kahlan, but I don't."

  She didn't want to dash his hopes, give irrefutable life to his fears, but she had to. The truth was the truth. He had to know that truth about himself.

  "Richard, the Book of Counted Shadows was a book of instruction for magic. It was magic."

  "I have no doubt of that. I know what I saw when we burned it."

  She stroked the back of his hand with her finger. "There were other books of instruction for magic in the keep: less important ones. The wizards let me look at them. When I would read them, I would get to a place in the boo
ks, and a strange thing would happen, sometimes after only a few words, sometimes after a few pages: I would forget what I had just read. I couldn't remember a word of it. Not a single word. I would go back and read it again, and the same thing would happen.

  "The wizards would smile watching me, and then they would laugh. After a while of trying to read the books, and not knowing what I had just read, I finally got frustrated and asked what was happening. They told me that books of instruction for magic are protected by powerful spells invoked at certain words in the books. They said none but one with the gift could read a book of magic instruction and remember so much as a single word. Those six wizards were wizards by calling, not by the gift. Even they couldn't read all the books and know what they said, only the less important ones, and only then because of their training.

  "Zedd told us that the Book of Counted Shadows was one of the most important books in the keep, so important it was kept in the First Wizard's enclave.

  "Richard, You would never have been able to memorize it if you didn't have the gift. There is no other way. Somehow, your father must have known, that is why he chose you to learn it."

  Her head was still resting on his shoulder, and she felt his breathing halt for a moment as he realized the significance of what she had told him. "Richard, do you still remember the book?"

  His voice came low and distant. "Every word."

  "Though I heard you recite it, and I know you spoke it all, I cannot remember a word of what you said. The magic of certain words erased it all from my mind. I don't know how you used it to defeat Darken Rahl."

  "The first of the book said that if the words were being told to the one who controlled the boxes of Orden, and not read by that person, then the only way that person could know the words were true was with the use of a Confessor. Rahl thought you had taken me with your power, and so he thought I was speaking all the words true. I did speak the words true, but I left out an important part at the end so he would pick the box that would kill him."

  "You see? You still remember the words. You could not do that if you didn't have the gift; the magic would prevent it. Richard, if we are going to get out of this, we have to at least face the truth, and then think of what to do about it.

  "My love, you have the gift. You have magic. I'm sorry, but that is the truth of it."

  He let out an exasperated breath. "I guess I just so badly didn't want it to be that I have been trying to talk myself out of it. But things don't work that way. I hope you don't think me a fool. Thank you for loving me enough to make me see the truth."

  "You are no fool. You are my love. We will think of something." She kissed the back of his hand and they watched the sky in silence. It was a dark, cold gray, a mirror to her mood.

  "I wish you could have met my father. He was a special person. I guess even I never knew how special. I miss him." He stared off into his own thoughts. "What of your father?"

  Kahlan twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. "My father was mate to my mother; mate to a Confessor. He was not a father in the way a man is a father to other children. He had been taken by her power, and there was nothing to him but his devotion to her. He paid heed to me only to please my mother, only because I was born to her. He didn't see me as myself, but only as a part of the Confessor he was bonded to."

  Richard pulled a piece of long grass and flattened the end of of it between his front teeth as he thought, at last asking, "Who was he before she took him with the magic?"

  "He was a Wyborn Amnell. King of Galea."

  Richard pushed himself up on an elbow, looking down at her with surprise. "King! Your father was a King?"

  Without realizing she was doing it, her expression slipped into the calm exterior that showed nothing: a Confessor's face.

  "My father was mate to a Confessor. That was all that was in him. When my mother was dying of a terrible wasting illness, he was in a constant state of panic. One day the wizard and the healer who had been tending her came to us and said there was nothing more they could do, that the spirits would soon take her to be with them, that she would soon pass from life.

  "With a wail of anguish like none I have ever heard, my father clutched his chest and fell to the floor, dead."

  Richard gazed into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kahlan." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  He lay back once more and put the stalk of grass back between his teeth.

  "It was a long time ago."

  "So, what does that make you? Are you a princess, or a Queen, or something?"

  She laughed a little at the question, at how strange all this must seem to him. He still knew little of her life, her world. "No. I am the Mother Confessor. The daughter of a Confessor is a Confessor, not the daughter of her father." She felt uncomfortable about seeming to belittle her father. It was not his fault her mother had chosen and taken him. "Do you wish to know about him?"

  He shrugged. "Sure. You are part of him, too. I like knowing all about you."

  She thought a moment about what his reaction would be. "Well, he was the husband to Queen Bernadine when my mother chose him as her mate."

  "Your mother chose a man who was already married?"

  She felt Richard's eyes on her. "It is not as it must seem to you. The marriage between him and the Queen was arranged. He was a warrior, a great commander. The marriage wedded his realm to the lands ruled by Queen Bernadine, creating the land of Galea. He did it for his people, to make a united land under a crown that could stand against hostile neighbors.

  "The Queen was a wise and respected leader. She married my father for the good of Galea, not for herself. She and my father had no love for each other. He gave her, gave the people of Galea, a fine, strong daughter, Cyrilla, and a then a son, Harold."

  "Then you have a half sister and brother."

  She shrugged. "In a way. But not in the way you think of it. I am a Confessor, not a knot in the string of royalty. I have met both Cyrilla and Harold. They are fine people. Cyrilla is the Queen of Galea now. Her mother died a few years back. Prince Harold is the commander of the army, as was his father. They don't think of me as kin, nor I them. I am of the Confessors; of the magic."

  "What about your mother? When did she come into all this?"

  "She had just become the Mother Confessor at the time. She wanted a strong mate, one who would give her a daughter with strength. She had heard the Queen was not happy in her marriage, and went to speak with her. Queen Bernadine told my mother that she did not love her husband, that he was a cuckold. Even though she loved another, she respected Wyborn as a strong man, as a leader, and as a cunning warrior, and would not condone my mother taking him with her power.

  "While my mother was thinking on what she would do, Wyborn caught the Queen in the bed of that lover. He nearly killed her. When my mother heard of this, she returned to Galea and solved everyone's problems before he could add the murder of the lover to the beating he had given his wife.

  "Though a Confessor has many things to fear, being struck by her husband is not one of them."

  "It must be hard to have to choose a mate without loving him."

  She smiled and pressed her head against him. "In my whole life, I never thought I would be able to have anyone I love. I wish my mother could have known this joy."

  "What was it like having him as your father?"

  She folded her fingers together against her stomach. "He was as a stranger to me. He had no emotion except for my mother, no real feelings, except for devotion to my mother. She wished him to spend time with me, to teach me the things he knew, so he was overjoyed to do so, but for her sake, not mine.

  "He spent time teaching me what he knew: war. He taught me the tactics of his enemies, how to steal victory from a much larger and confident force, and most importantly, how to survive, and triumph, by using your head instead of rules. My mother would sit sometimes and watch as he taught me. He would look up and ask her if he was teaching me correctly. She told him h
e was; to teach me so that I might know the skills of war he knew, in the hope I'd never need them, and if I did, so that I might survive.

  "He taught me that the most important quality in a warrior is ruthlessness. He said that he prevailed many times by being ruthless. He said terror could overwhelm reason, and it was a leader's job to bring that manner of terror to the enemy.

  "The things he taught me helped me survive when other Confessors died. Because of what he taught me, I was able to kill when there was need. He taught me not to be afraid of doing the things that must be done to survive.

  "For the things he taught me, I loved him, and I hated him."

  "Well, I love him, for teaching you to how to survive, so that you could be with me now."

  Kahlan shook her head slightly as she watched a small bird chasing away a raven. "The things he knew were not the horror; those who make you do them to survive are. He never wrongly took war to others. I shouldn't fault him for knowing how to triumph when he was forced to fight a war. Richard, perhaps we should start thinking about surviving now."

  "You're right," he said, slipping an arm around her. "You know, I was thinking, we are sitting here like those targets; just sitting here waiting for an arrow to come and shoot us. waiting to see what will happen to us."

  "What do you think we should do?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. But if we keep sitting here, sooner or later we are going to get shot. Sooner or later the Sisters are going to come back. Why should we just wait for them to come to us? I don't have the answers, but I can't see how sitting here is going to help."

  She crossed her arms under her breasts, burying her hands to get them warm. "Zedd?"

  Richard nodded. "Zedd would know what to do, if anyone would. I think we need to see him."