Stone of Tears

by Terry Goodkind

  "You," he looked to all the eyes, "you do it because you think it is your right. You enslave in the name of your Creator. I don't know your Creator. The only one beyond this world I know who would do as you do, is the Keeper." The crowd gasped. "As far as I'm concerned, you may as well be the Keeper's disciples.

  "If you do as she, and use this collar to bring me pain, the truce will be ended. You may think you hold the leash to this collar, but I promise you, if the truce ends, you will find that what you hold is a bolt of lightening."

  Dead still silence rang in the room. Richard rolled up his left sleeve. He drew the Sword of Truth. The distinctive sound of steel filled the ringing silence.

  "The Baka Ban Mana are my people. They have agreed to live in peace with all people from now on. Anyone who harms one of them will answer to me. If you do not accept this, do not let the Baka Ban Mana live in peace, our truce will be ended."

  He pointed back with the sword. "Sister Verna captured me. I have fought her every step of this journey. She has done everything short of killing me and draping my body over a horse to get me here. Though she, too, is my captor and enemy, I owe her certain debts. If anyone lays a finger to her because of me, I will kill that person, and the truce will be ended."

  From the corner of his eye, Richard could see Sister Verna's eyes close. Her hand covered her white face.

  The crowd gasped as Richard drew his sword across the inside of his arm. He turned it, wiping both sides in the blood, until it dripped from the tip.

  His knuckles white around the hilt, he thrust the blade into the air.

  "I give you a blood oath! Harm the Baka Ban Mana, harm Sister Verna, or harm me, and the truce will be ended, and I promise you we will have war! If we have war, I will lay waste to the Palace of the Prophets!"

  From the far balcony, where Richard couldn't see its source, a mocking voice drifted out over the crowd. "All by yourself?"

  "Doubt me at your peril. I am a prisoner; I have nothing to live for. I am the flesh of prophecy. I am the bringer of death."

  No answer came in the silence. He slammed his sword home into its scabbard.

  Richard held his arms out as he gave a gracious bow. He came up smiling. "Now that we all understand each other, understand the truce, you ladies may go back to your celebration of my capture."

  He turned his back on the stunned crowd. Sister Verna's head was lowered, her hand covering her face. Pasha's lips were pressed so tightly together they were turning blue.

  A stout, stern faced woman crossed in front of him, stopping before Sister Verna. The woman held her nose in the air until Sister Verna lifted her head and straightened her back.

  "Sister Verna. It is obvious you have neither the talent nor skill to be a Sister of the Light. Your failure is quite beyond the pale. As of this moment, you are broken to novice, first rank. You will serve as a novice until such time as, and if the Creator wills, you earn the title of Sister of the Light."

  Sister Verna lifted her chin. "Yes, Sister Maren."

  "Novices do not speak to a Sister unless asked to! I did not ask you to speak!" She held out a hand. "Surrender your dacra."

  Sister Verna flicked her hand, the silver knife appearing from her sleeve. She twirled it, presented the handle to the other woman, and then stood silent, her eyes straight ahead.

  "At dawn tomorrow, you will report to the kitchens. You will scrub pots until you are judged worthy to attempt something more demanding of your intelligence. Do you understand!"

  "Yes, Sister Maren. I understand."

  "And if you even look like you are going to give me any back talk, it will be the stables instead of the kitchens, cleaning stalls and hauling manure!"

  "In that case, Sister Maren, I will report directly to the stables, instead of the kitchens, and save your ears what it is I would say to you."

  Sister Maren's face reddened. "Very well, novice. The stables it is."

  Sister Maren paused before Richard, giving him a tight smile. "I trust that does not break your truce." She lifted her chin and stormed off.

  The room was silent. Richard looked to Sister Verna, but the Sister stared straight ahead. Pasha, her face set in a scowl, suddenly put herself between them.

  "Verna is no longer your concern. Your arm is bleeding. Since you are my charge, I will tend to it."

  She took a calming breath as she twined her fingers together before her waist. "There is a big banquet, to welcome you, beginning in the dining room. Maybe you will feel better about all of us after the banquet. Everyone is looking forward to it. Everyone wants a chance to personally welcome you." She shook a finger at him. "And you will be on your best behavior, young man!"

  Having put the sword away, he had put most of the anger away. Most, but not all. "I'm not hungry. Show me to my dungeon, child."

  Her fists tightened on her blue skirts. With a dark look, she considered him a moment. "Very well. Have it your way. You can just go to bed without your supper, like a spoilt child." She turned on her heels. "Follow me."

  50

  Sister Verna put her hand to the brass lever. The room was shielded. She took a controlled breath and then knocked.

  A muffled voice behind the heavy door answered. "Come."

  The shield dissolved. She opened the right side of the double doors and stepped in. Two women sat, each at her own desk, to each side of the door beyond. Both were writing in ledgers. Neither looked up.

  "Yes," the one to the left said as she continued writing, "what is it?"

  "I have come to return the journey book, Sister Ulicia."

  Sister Ulicia wet her finger and flipped a page. "Yes, just put it on the desk. Shouldn't you be at the banquet in honor of your return? I would think you would want to get reacquainted with old friends."

  Sister Verna clasped her hands. "I have more important matters to attend than banquets. I wish to give the journey book to the Prelate, personally. And I wish to speak with her, Sister Ulicia."

  They both looked up. "Well," Sister Ulicia said, "the Prelate does not wish to speak with you, Sister Verna. She is a busy woman. She can't be bothered with unimportant matters."

  "Unimportant! It is not unimportant!"

  "Do not raise your voice in this office, Sister Verna," the other warned. She dipped her pen in an ink bottle and bent back over her writing.

  Sister Verna took a step forward. The air between the desks, before the door beyond, shimmered suddenly with a powerful shield that hissed and crackled in warning.

  "The Prelate is busy," Sister Ulicia said. "If she deems your return of consequence, she will send for you." She pulled a candle closer and bent back to her book. "Just put the journey book on my desk. I will see that is returned to her."

  Sister Verna controlled her voice as she gritted her teeth. "I have been broken down to novice." They both glanced up. "Broken to novice, because I followed the orders of that woman. Despite my pleas and appeals, she forbade me to do my job, my duty, and because of that, I am to be punished! Punished for doing as the Prelate ordered me to do! I will at least hear the reasons!"

  Sister Ulicia leaned back in her chair and then turned to the other woman. "Sister Finella, please send a report to the headmistress of the novices. Inform her that novice Verna Sauventreen came to the Prelate's office without authorization or invitation, and further, she carried on in a tirade unbecoming of a novice hoping one day to be a Sister of the Light."

  Sister Finella shifted herself in annoyance as she glared up at Sister Verna. "My, my, novice Verna, your first day in your pursuit of higher calling, and already you have earned a letter of reprimand." She clicked her tongue. "I do so hope you learn to behave yourself, if you ever hope to be a Sister of the Light."

  "That will be all, novice," Sister Ulicia said. "You are dismissed."

  Sister Verna turned on her heels. She heard the snap of fingers. She looked back over her shoulder. Sister Ulicia tapped the corner of her desk.

  "The journey book. And I don't belie
ve that is the way a novice departs when she is dismissed by a Sister. Is it, novice?"

  Sister Verna pried the small black book from behind her belt and gently set it on the corner of the desk.

  "No, Sister, it is not." She curtsied. "Thank you, Sisters, for your time."

  Sister Verna sighed to herself as she closed the door against her back. She stood for a moment, considering.

  Eyes to the floor before her, she made her way back through the Palace, down halls both opened and closed, both stone and paneled, across floors carpeted and tiled. Rounding a corner, she came suddenly upon someone. She looked up into a face she had been hoping not to see.

  He smiled in a familiar manner. "Verna! How good to see you!"

  His young, square-jawed face looked unchanged. His wavy brown hair was worn a little longer over his ears that before, and his shoulders were broader than she remembered. She had to restrain herself from touching his cheek, from falling into his arms.

  She gave bow of her head. "Jedidiah." She gazed up into his brown eyes. "You look fit. You look... the same as you have always looked. You wear the time well."

  "You look... I guess..."

  "The word you are searching for is old. I look old."

  "Ah, Verna. A few wrinkles—" he glanced down her body "—a few pounds, do not diminish a beauty such as yours."

  "I see your tongue is still in good form around women." She glanced to his plain, tan robes. "And I can see you have been a good student, as always, and have managed to advance yourself. I am proud of you, Jedidiah."

  He shrugged off the compliment and pressed his fingers together. "Tell me about the new one you brought in."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You have not seen me in twenty odd years, since I rose from your bed to go on my journey, and that is your question for me? Not, how have I fared? Not, how do I feel about you after all this time? Not, has your heart found another? Well, I guess the shock of seeing how I have aged has made those questions fly right from your head."

  The sly smile stayed on his lips. "Verna, you are not a silly girl. Surely you must realize that in the passing of so much time, neither of us could be expected to..."

  "Of course I know that! I had no delusions of us. I had simply hoped to return and be treated with a little tact and sensitivity."

  He shrugged again. "I'm sorry, Verna. I always thought of you as a woman who appreciated candor, one who had no use for word sports." His eyes went out of focus. "I guess I have learned so much about... life... since back then, when I was so young."

  She removed her glare from his handsome face and started away. "Good night, Jedidiah."

  "What of my question?" His voice had an unpleasant edge to in. He softened it. "What is the new one like?"

  She halted, but didn't turn. "You were there. I saw you. What you saw of Richard is what he is."

  "I also saw what happened to you. I'm gaining a little influence among some of the Sisters. Maybe I can do something to help you, with your situation." He gestured vaguely with a hand. "If you are open with me, and satisfy my curiosity, maybe I can help you out of your unfortunate predicament."

  She started out again. "Good night, Jedidiah."

  "I'll be seeing you around the Palace, Verna. Think on it."

  She couldn't believe how ignorant she had been all those years ago. She remembered Jedidiah as caring and sincere. Maybe her memory was addled.

  Maybe she was just thinking of herself, and had not given him the chance to be kinder. She must look a mess. She should have cleaned herself up, put on a nice dress, at least fixed her unruly hair, before she saw Jedidiah. But she had not had the chance.

  Maybe if she would have touched his cheek, he would have remembered the spark of something, maybe remembered the tears he shed the day she left, and the promises he had made. Promises she knew the moment they left his lips would be broken before their echo faded, so long ago.

  She came to the hall that led to the novices' apartments. She stood looking down at the doors. She was tired. Sun up to sun down in the stables was going to be exhausting. She turned the other way, instead. She had one other thing to do before she slept.

  *****

  Pasha came to a stop before a doorway with a casing of stone, carved to look like vines. Nestled in the center of the stone vines was a large, round-topped, fumed oak door.

  Pasha lifted an eyebrow to him. "Your dungeon."

  "There is no bolt on the outside of the door. How will you lock me in?"

  She seemed surprised by the question. "We do not lock our boys in. You are free to come and go as you please."

  Richard frowned. "You mean I am free to roam this building?"

  "No. You are free to go wherever you wish. You may go most anywhere in the Palace, or into the city, if you wish. Most of the boys spend a great deal of their time in the city." Her face reddened a little at the last of what she said, and she looked away from his face.

  "What about the country around the city?"

  She shrugged, and then pulled the shoulder of her blue dress back up a little. "Of course. I don't know why you would want to go into the countryside, none of the other boys do, but there is nothing stopping you from going outside either the Palace, or the city."

  A worried wrinkle came to her brow. "But you must stay clear of the Hagen Woods. They are extremely dangerous. Were you warned about the Hagen Woods? Were you shown where they were while you journeyed to the Palace?

  Richard nodded. "How far may I go into the countryside?"

  "The Rada'Han will prevent you from going too far afield; we must be able to find you, but the limit is a good number of miles in a radius around the Palace of the Prophets."

  "How many miles?"

  "Farther that you would want to go. I expect almost all the way to the land of the savages."

  "You mean the Baka Ban Mana."

  She nodded. "Nearly that far, I would expect."

  "Unguarded?"

  She put her hands on her hips. "You are assigned to me. I will accompany you most everywhere you go, for now. After our boys are more experienced, they go off on their own when they wish."

  "Whenever I want, I can simply wander around?"

  "Well, you live here, at the Palace, of course. And you must be around for your lessons. I will give you lessons, and so will a number of the Sisters. We will teach you to touch your Han, and then once you are able to do that, we will begin to teach you how to control it."

  "Why different Sisters? Why not just one, or you?"

  "Because sometimes the Han of certain people works better together. Also, the Sisters have more experience than me, have more knowledge. There may be one, or several of us who are better able to help you, and so different Sisters give you lessons, until we discover with whom you work best."

  "Will Sister Verna be one of those?"

  Pasha gave him a look from under her eyebrows. "Verna is no longer a Sister. She is no longer entitled to the appellation. She is a novice, now, and should be addressed simply as Verna. Novices, other that the one assigned to you—that is me—are not allowed to give lessons. Novices of the first rank, like Verna, are not allowed to have anything to do with our boys. The duty of a novice is to learn, not to teach."

  Richard didn't think he could ever think of Sister Verna as simply Verna. It sounded too strange to him. "When will she be a Sister again?"

  "She must serve as a novice, and advance as any other novice. I started scrubbing pots in the kitchens when I was little. It has taken me this long to be given this chance. One day, if Verna works as hard as I have, then she, too, will have the chance to be a Sister of the Light. Until then, Verna is a novice."

  Richard fumed at the thought of Sister Verna being demoted on his account. By the time she was again a Sister, she would be an old woman. He changed the subject. "And why are we allowed to roam around?"

  "Because you are not a danger to the people. Someday, when you learn to control your Han, then you begin to have limits placed on where you
may go. The people in the city are afraid of boys who can wield the power—unfortunate incidents have happened in the past—and so once a boy becomes skilled at handling his Han, he is then restricted from the city. As the boys advance as wizards, they are placed under more restrictions, until near the end, and their release, when they are confined to certain areas of the Palace.

  "But for now, you are free to go almost anywhere you wish. I will know where you are all the time, by your Rada'Han."

  "You mean any Sister can find me by this cursed thing?"

  "No, only the one who gave it to you, because she held it and recognizes its power, and since I am in charge of you, I must be able to know where you are at all times, so I will need to allow my Han to recognize your Rada'Han's unique feel."

  She pushed the door open and went into the dark room. With a sweep of her arm, lamps set all around the room sprang to flame.

  "You must teach me that trick," he muttered.

  "It is not a trick. It is simply my Han. And that is the simplest of many things I will teach you."

  The ceiling of the huge room was painted around its molding with different colored lines in intricate patterns. The walls were paneled in cherry of a warm color. Tall windows hung with rich, deep blue, moire drapes looked out on the night. There was a fireplace, with a white column to each side. Most of the wood floor was covered with thick carpets. Comfortable looking chairs and couches were placed about the room, and arranged in front of the fireplace.

  Richard thought that his whole house would fit twice into the room. He slipped the pack off his back and leaned it against the wall next to the fireplace. He stood the quiver of arrows and the unstrung bow beside it.

  He went to the right, to a set of double doors made up of small panes of glass and covered over with sheer, cream colored curtains. Beyond the doors was an expansive balcony overlooking the city. Stone urns filled with flowers were set about the slate floor of the balcony. He put his fingers to the marble railing as he looked to his right, past the sparkling lights of the city, to the hills from where he had come.