Stone of Tears

by Terry Goodkind

  Zedd gave a tired sigh. It was just as well; he couldn't keep it from her much longer anyway. He drew the dark sleeve of his robe up his arm.

  The flesh of his upper arm, in the same place where her arm had been cut, was blotched with cloudy black circles about the size of gold coins, and had the same faint green glow as her arm. She stared at it without reaction.

  "Wizards use the magic of empathy to cure people. We take the pain and the essence of the discordance, the sickness or injury, into ourselves. We have passed the test of pain, so in this, as in other things, we are able to endure what we take from another. We use the gift to sustain us, and to give strength to the person, allowing the magic to cure what is out of order. The harmony within us corrects the disharmony. Sickness and injury is an aberration, and the magic restores the flows of power in a person to what it is intended to be." He stroked her hand. "Within limits, of course. We are not the hand of Creation. But from it, we have the gift to use when it is appropriate."

  "But... why be your arm like mine?"

  "The actual transfer of the sickness or injury is blocked. Only the pain and disharmony of it is taken on, so we may pass strength, healing and wellness to the one we are helping." He took hold of the silver brocade at the cuff and drew the sleeve back down his arm. "Somehow, the taint of the skrin passed through that barrier."

  Concern creased her features. "Then we must both lose our arms."

  Zedd worked his tongue to wet it. "No. I'm afraid that wouldn't help. When I try to cure someone, I can sense where the injury or sickness, the disharmony, lies." He stood again, turning his back to her. "Though the wound is on your arm, the taint of the skrin's magic is evident throughout your body." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It is also throughout me, now."

  Zedd could hear the muffled laughter from down in the dining room. Merry music seemed to ooze up through the elegant, richly colored carpets. A bard was singing a bawdy tale about a princess masquerading as a serving wench. Her father and king had pledged her to a prince she loathed. After having exposed the suitor as a scoundrel and greedy opportunist, she found that, despite having to endure her bottom being pinched, she preferred the occupation of serving wench to that of princess, and went on to live a life of singing and dancing. The crowd roared their approval, thumping their mugs in time with the tune.

  Adie's voice came softly from behind him. "We be in a great deal of trouble, old man."

  He nodded absently. "Indeed."

  "I be sorry, Zedd. Forgive me for what I have brought upon us."

  He dismissed her regrets with a wave of his hand. "What's done is done. It is not your fault, dear lady. If anything, it is mine, for not thinking before I used magic on this; the price of using your heart before using your head." The price, too, for violating the Wizard's Second Rule, he thought, but did not voice it.

  The heavy folds of his robes swirled around him as he turned back to face her. "Adie, think. There must be someone who would know about this taint, someone who knows about the skrin. Is there anyone you visited when searching knowledge of the underworld, who would know something? Even if it is just a little, it might give me the clue I need to rid us of this."

  Her weight settled deeper into the pillows as she frowned in thought. Finally, her head rolled from side to side a little.

  "When I visited the women with the gift, I be young. They be old, at least older that I. They would all be dead by now."

  Zedd stepped closer. "Did any have daughters? Daughters with the gift?"

  Adie's eyes come to his, her eyebrows lifted, and a smile grew on her finely wrinkled face. "Yes! One who taught me some of the most important things about the skrin had daughters." She propped herself up on her good elbow. "Three daughters." Her grin grew. "They all had the gift. They be little at the time, but they had the gift. They would not be nearly as old as I. If their mother lived long enough, she would have taught them what she knew. That be the way of a sorceress."

  Despite the dull ache of a foreign magic in his bones, Zedd's step was lively with excitement. "Then we must go to them! Where are they?"

  Adie winced as she sank back down on the pillows. She drew the blanket up to her chest. "Nicobarese. They be in a remote part of Nicobarese."

  "Bags." Zedd let out a sigh. "That's a long way in the wrong direction." He stroked a thumb and finger down opposite sides of his smooth jaw. "Can you think of anyone else?"

  Adie whispered to herself as, one at a time, she lifted open the fingers of a closed hand. "Sons," she muttered. "She had only sons." She lifted open another finger. "No, she didn't know anything of the skrin." Finally, she lifted open the last finger. "No children." Her hands fell limp to her sides. "I be sorry, Zedd. The three sisters be the only ones who might know something, and they be in Nicobarese."

  "And this woman, their mother, where did she learn these things? Maybe we could go there."

  Adie smoothed the blanket against her stomach. Her hand slipped away to rest at her side. "The light only knows. The only place I know we can go to seek answers be Nicobarese."

  Zedd pointed a bony finger skyward. "Then we go to Nicobarese!"

  Adie looked at him dubiously. "Zedd, there be Blood of the Fold in Nicobarese. My name be remembered there. And not remembered fondly."

  "That was an awfully long time ago, Adie. Two kings ago."

  "Time means nothing to the Blood."

  He rubbed his chin as he thought. "Well, no one knows who we are; we have been hiding our identity to remain out of the Keeper's sight. We will simply continue to be two wealthy travelers." He scowled at her. "I am already wearing this ridiculous outfit." The lavish robes they both wore had been her idea, and not one he enjoyed.

  Adie shrugged. "It would appear we have no choice. What must be done, must be done." She grunted with the effort of sitting up in the bed. "We must be on our way."

  Zedd waved his hand dismissively. "You are weak and need rest. I will secure us transportation. It is too difficult to ride horseback anymore. I will hire us a coach, or something." He lifted an eyebrow as he gave her a sly smile. "After all, if we are going wear these garish outfits, and feign being wealthy travelers, it would be best to play the part with a coach."

  She watched as he scrutinized himself in front of the tall, standing mirror. He held the full robes out, examining their volume. The robe was a heavy, maroon fabric, with black sleeves and cowled shoulders. The cuffs of the sleeves had three rows of silver brocade. Around the neck and down the front were bands of gold brocade woven in a coarser design. The waist was held with a flashy, red satin belt set with a gold buckle. The whole effect was so ostentatious it made him groan inwardly.

  Well, necessary was necessary. Zedd swept his arm across his middle while bowing dramatically.

  "How do I look, dear lady?"

  Adie plucked a slice of brown bread from the tray. "Foolish."

  He straightened in a rush and finally shook a finger at her. "May I remind you that you picked it out!"

  She shrugged. "Revenge. You picked mine. I thought it only fitting to seek redress."

  He strode across the expanse of carpets in a huff, muttering that he thought she had gotten the better of the bargain by far. "You get a little rest. I'll see about our transportation."

  Adie tore a chunk of bread off with her teeth and spoke around the mouthful as he headed for the door. "Don't forget your hat."

  Zedd froze with a wince. He spun on the balls of his feet. "Bags, woman! Must I wear the hat, too!"

  She chewed a moment and then swallowed. "The man who sold us the outfit said it be all the rage among noblemen."

  Zedd forced out a noisy breath and then snatched the limp, red hat off the marble tabletop beside the double doors to the outer room. He plopped it atop his wavy, white hair. "Better?"

  "The feather be crooked."

  He clenched his fists. At last he reached up and rearranged the floppy hat, straightening the long peacock feather.

  "Happy?"

&
nbsp; She smiled—at his expense, he presumed. "Zedd, I said you look foolish only because you be such a handsome man that the fancy clothes look silly in trying to improve upon perfection."

  A grin stole back onto his face. He gave another quick bow. "Why, thank you, madam."

  She pulled the piece of bread in half. "And Zedd, be careful." He cocked his head with a questioning frown. "Masquerading in that outfit, like the princess in the song, you may get your bottom pinched."

  Zedd gave her a mischievous wink. "I won't let any stray wench trespass on your territory."

  He canted his hat to a jaunty angle and, humming a merry tune, swept through the doors. A cane, he thought. Perhaps he should have a cane. An ornate one, of course. It seemed to him that a gentleman should have proper cane.

  34

  Warm air ascended the stairs from the dining room along with the buzz of the packed room. The aroma of roasting meats drifted in from the kitchen to mix pleasantly with the sweet tang of pipe smoke. Zedd rubbed his stomach as he descended the stairs, wondering if he might spare the time to sample a plate.

  On the landing sat a tall basket holding three canes. Zedd pulled the most ornate, a straight, black cane with an elaborate head worked in silver, from the basket. He tapped the flamboyant cane on the wood landing, testing its length and heft. Seemed a tad heavy, he thought, but it would do as a proper accessory.

  The proprietor, Master Hillman, a rotund man with his white shirtsleeves rolled up above his dimpled elbows and wearing a sparkling white apron, spied him as he reached the bottom of the steps and immediately rushed across the room, shoving men out of his way. The man's round, pink cheeks plumped out farther as his small mouth spread with a familiar grin.

  "Master Rybnik! So good to see you again!"

  Zedd almost turned to see to whom the man was speaking before he remembered that was the name he had given. He had told the innkeeper that his name was Ruben Rybnik, and had given Adie's name as Elda, saying she was his wife. Zedd had always favored the name Ruben. Ruben. He rolled the sound pleasantly through his mind. Ruben.

  "Please, Master Hillman, call me Ruben."

  The man's head bobbed. "Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course."

  Zedd held out the cane "I find I have need of a cane, of late. Could I convince you to part with this one?"

  The man opened his arms in a wide gesture. "For you, Master Rybnik, anything. My nephew makes them, and I let him display them here for my discriminating guests. But this one is special, and costly." He came forward at Zedd's skeptical expression, lifting the cane. He leaned close to speak confidentially. "Let me demonstrate, Master Rybnik. I don't show this to anyone. Might give them the wrong impression of my establishment, you know. Here. You see? You twist, and here at the silver band, it comes open."

  He separated the two parts a few inches to reveal a gleaming blade. "Nearly two feet of Keltish steel. Discreet protection for a gentleman. But I'm not sure that for your simple purposes you would want such a costly..."

  Zedd pushed thin blade away and gave a twist, the finely worked mechanism emitting a soft click as the parts locked together. "It will do nicely. I like its looks. Not too flashy. Add the cost to my tally for the room." Wealthy gentlemen weren't supposed to ask the price.

  Master Hillman bowed his head up and down. "Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course. And a fine choice, I might add. Quite dashing." He wiped his clean, meaty hands on the apron's corner and then held an arm out to the room. "May I offer you a table, Master Rybnik? Let me clear a table for you. I will have someone move. Let me see to it..."

  "No, no." Zedd gestured with his new cane. "That empty one in the corner, near the kitchen, will do splendidly."

  The man looked with worry to where Zedd had pointed. "There? Oh no, sir, please, let me get you a better table. Perhaps near the bard. You would like to hear a lively tune, I'm sure. He knows any tune you could name. Let me know your favorite and I will have him play it for you."

  Zedd leaned close and gave the man a wink. "I much prefer the wonderful aromas coming from your kitchen to the singing."

  Master Hillman beamed with pride and then swept his arm in the direction of the empty table, ushering Zedd toward it. "You do me such honor, Master Rybnik. I have never had anyone swoon over my cooking as do you. Let me get you a plate."

  "Ruben, please. Remember? And I would be delighted to sample a slice of that roast I smell."

  "Yes, Master Rybnik, of course." Wringing the corner of his apron, he leaned over the table as Zedd sat against the wall. "How is Mistress Rybnik? I hope she is feeling better. I pray for her every day."

  Zedd sighed. "Much the same, I'm afraid."

  "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm so sorry. I'll continue to pray for her." He started through the kitchen door. "Let me get you that plate of roast."

  Zedd leaned his new cane against the wall and removed his hat after the man had left, tossing it on the table. The balding bard sat on a stool on a small platform, hunched over his lute as if permanently deformed around it, strumming with vigor and singing a spirited song about the adventures of a wagon driver; his journey along bad roads from one bad town to another with bad food and worse women, and how he loved the challenge of steep hills and twisting passes, driving rain and blinding snow.

  Zedd watched one man, alone in a booth against the wall across the room, roll his eyes and shake his head as he listened to one improbable adventure after another. A whip lay in a neat coil on the table before him. Other men, at tables, thought the song a proper tale, and thumped their mugs as they sang along. Some of the drunker men tried to pinch the smiling serving girls that swept past, but caught only air.

  At other tables sat nattily dressed men and women, probably merchants and their wives, talking among themselves and ignoring the singing. Fashionable nobility, wearing gleaming swords, sat at a few tables off to the quieter side of the room. In an empty area between the Bard and the lone man in the booth, couples danced; some were serving girls and men who had paid them for the turn. Zedd noted with pique that while there were many men with hats, all the hats looked to be functional, and none were embellished with a feather.

  Zedd reached into a pocket to count the gold coins. Two. He sighed. It was expensive playing the part of the wealthy. He didn't know how even the wealthy could afford it. Well, he would just have to do something about that if he was to get transportation all the way to Nicobarese. He couldn't have Adie riding that horse anymore; she was too weak.

  Springing on light feet, Master Hillman swooped through the kitchen door. He set a gold rimmed white plate heaped with roasted lamb in front of Zedd, pausing before he straightened to return a finger to each edge of the plate and turn it just so. Quickly producing a clean towel, he buffed a spot off the tabletop. Zedd decided that although he was hungry, he had better eat carefully, lest Master Hillman whisk out to wipe his chin for him.

  "May I bring you a mug of ale, Master Rybnik? On the house?"

  "Please call me Ruben, that's my name. A pot of tea would be splendid."

  "Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. Anything else I could do? Besides the pot of tea?"

  Zedd leaned a little toward the center of the table. Master Hillman did the same. "What's the current gold to silver exchange ratio?"

  "Forty point five five to one," he answered, ticking the numbers off without hesitation. He cleared his throat. "I believe. At least, that's what I seem to remember." He smiled apologetically. "I don't keep track. But that's what I believe it is. Forty point five five to one. Yes, I think that's right."

  Zedd made a show of considering this. At last he pulled out one of his two gold coins and slid it with one finger across the table toward the proprietor.

  "I seem to be short of smaller coinage. If you would be so kind, could you exchange this for me? And I would like it divided into two purses. From one take one silver and exchange it for copper, and put that in a third purse. And please keep the odd bits for the house?"

  Master Hillman gav
e two quick, deep bows. "Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. And thank you."

  He swept the coin off the table so fast Zedd could scarcely see it go. After he left, Zedd dug into the lamb roast, watching the people and listening to the singing as he chewed. Near the end of the meal, Master Hillman was back, placing his broad, round back between Zedd and the crowd.

  He set two small purses on the table. "The silver, Master Rybnik. Nineteen in the light brown one, and twenty in the dark." Zedd slipped them into his robes as the other set a heavier, green purse down, sliding it across the table. "And the copper in this."

  Zedd smiled his thanks. "And the tea?"

  The big man slapped his forehead. "Forgive me. In handling the exchange, I forgot." One of the noblemen was waving a hand, trying to get his attention. He snagged the arm of a serving girl coming from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. "Julie! Fetch Master Rybnik a pot of tea. And quickly, dear." She gave Zedd a smile and a nod before rushing on with her tray. Smiling, Hillman turned back. "Julie will see to it, Master Rybnik. If there is anything else I can do, please ask."

  "Why, yes. You could call me Ruben."

  Master Hillman chuckled absently and nodded. "Of course, Master Rybnik, of course." He rushed off toward the nobleman.

  Zedd cut another piece of lamb and stabbed it with his fork. He liked the name Ruben. He shouldn't have told the man any more of it than that. While he pulled the meat off the tines with his teeth, he watched Julie cross the room, weaving between the crowded tables.

  He chewed as he watched her plunk down mugs around a table of raucous men all wearing longcoats. As she set the last one before the last man, he said something to her. She had to lean over to hear above the din. The men suddenly burst into laughter. Julie straightened and thumped the man on the head with her tray. As she strutted away, he pinched her. She yelped but hurried on.

  As she went past Zedd's table, she leaned toward him and smiled. "I'll be getting your tea for you right now, Master Rybnik."

  "It's Ruben." He flicked a finger toward the table of noisy men. "I saw what happened. Do you have to put up with that all the time?"