Soul of the Fire

by Terry Goodkind

  “I am honored to have you in my humble home, First Wizard.”

  Zedd waggled a hand. “None of that, now. We’re old acquaintances. Just Zedd would do fine by me.”

  She rose. “Zedd, then. I can hardly believe the Creator has answered my prayer in so direct a manner. Oh, but how I wish my mother were still alive to see you again.”

  “She, too, was a lovely woman. May the good spirits watch over her kind soul.”

  Beaming, Franca took his face in both hands. “And you are as handsome as I remember.”

  “Really?” Zedd straightened his shoulders. “Why, thank you, Franca. I try to take care of myself. Wash regularly, and such—with a few herbs and special oils I occasionally add in the water. I think that accounts for my skin still being so supple.”

  “Oh, Zedd, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you. Thank the Creator.” She was still holding his face in her hands. Her eyes welled with tears. “I need help. Oh, First Wizard, I so desperately need your help.”

  He took her hands in his. “Odd you should mention that.”

  “Zedd, you helped my mother, once. Now you must help me. Please. My power has failed. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’ve consulted books of charms, spells, and bewitching. None of them have been any help. I’ve had to tie that rope atop the door to fool people and keep them wary.

  “I’ve been worried sick. I’ve hardly slept. I’ve tried—”

  “The chimes are loose.”

  Her lashes fluttered as she stared dumbly at him. Her silent home seemed to stretch with her, to turn an ear toward him with her, to hold its breath with her.

  “What did you say?”

  “The chimes are loose.”

  “No,” she said, appearing to be in a state of confused shock, “I don’t think that’s it. I think it may be a heating of my blood. Possibly caused by a hex placed on me by women of lesser talent but greater ambition. Jealousy, I believe it to be, along with a vengeful nature. I try not to step on people’s toes, as it were, but there have been times—”

  Zedd grasped her shoulders. “Franca, I came here because I’m hoping you can help me. The Mother… my granddaughter-in-law… unintentionally set the chimes free while urgently summoning the aid of powerful magic in a final recourse to save the life of my grandson.

  “I need your help. That’s why I’ve come. My gift, too, has failed. All magic is failing. The world of life is in terrible danger. I don’t need to explain to a woman of your talents the consequences of such an event. We need to see if there is anything we can do to banish the chimes. As First Wizard, I’ve come to call upon you for help.”

  “Your grandson? Is he… did he survive the ordeal? Did he recover?”

  “Yes. Fortunately, with the aid of the woman then to be his wife, he survived and is now well.”

  She put a fingernail between her teeth for a moment, her dark-eyed gaze shifting about as she considered his words. “There is that much good in it, then, that he survived. But then in return for their help, that would mean the chimes could cross the veil.…”

  Her brow puckered. “Your grandson, you say. Has he the gift?”

  A thousand things at once flashed through Zedd’s mind. He answered with a simple “Yes.”

  Franca smiled briefly and politely, to show she was pleased for Zedd, and then moved into action. She threw back the drapes, took hold of his arm, and steered him to a table at the rear. She opened a heavy drape over a little window in the back to let light flood across the table. The dark mahogany tabletop had a Grace inlaid in silver.

  Franca graciously gestured for him to sit. While he did, she retrieved two cups. After pouring tea from a pot hung over the glowing embers in the hearth, she set one before him and then sank into a chair across from him.

  She dithered before saying, “I suspect there must be more to it.”

  Zedd sighed. “There is a great deal more, but time is running short.”

  “Mind hitting a few of the high spots for me?”

  “Well, all right, then.” Zedd took a sip of tea first. “Do you recall D’Hara?”

  Her hand with the teacup paused on its way to her lips. “And how could one not recall D’Hara?”

  “Yes, well, the thing is, my daughter was Richard’s—that’s my grandson, Richard—my daughter was Richard’s mother. He was fathered through a cruel act of rape.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said with sincere sympathy. “But what does that have to do with D’Hara?’

  “The man who fathered him was Darken Rahl, of D’Hara.”

  Her hands took on a decided tremble. She had not yet managed to get the tea to her mouth. With care, Franca set down her full cup lest she spill her tea before ever tasting it.

  “Do you mean to tell me that this grandson of yours is the progeny of two lines of wizards—and is the very same Lord Rahl demanding the surrender of all lands of the Midlands?”

  “Ah, well, yes, that would be him.”

  “And that this grandson of yours, the Lord Rahl himself, is the same one who is going to be wedded to the Mother Confessor herself?”

  “It was a lovely ceremony,” Zedd said. “Quite lovely. Rather exclusive, it was, but still stylish.”

  Franca put her forehead in her hand. “Dear spirits, that is a lump to swallow.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s also a war wizard. I forgot—sorry. He was born with both sides of the gift.”

  Her head came up. “What?”

  “You know, both sides. Subtractive Magic, as well as the usual Additive. Both sides.”

  “I know what ‘both sides’ means.”

  “Oh.”

  Franca swallowed. “Wait just a minute. The chimes… you mean it was the Mother Confessor who called them?”

  “Well, she—”

  The woman rose in a rush, her chair scraping against the floor. “It’s Lord Rahl who—dear spirits, the Mother Confessor herself pledged the soul of Lord Rahl—a war wizard with both sides of the gift—to the chimes?”

  “It’s not as bad as all that. She had no knowledge of the spell; she didn’t do it intentionally. She’s a good person and would never deliberately do such a thing.”

  “Deliberate or not, if the chimes get ahold of him—”

  “I’ve sent them both off to a safe place—to where the chimes can’t get to him. We have no need fear that part of it.”

  She sighed with relief. “Thank the Creator for that much.”

  Zedd took another sip. “But that still leaves us without our power, and the world without magic, and possibly on the brink of ruin. Like I said, I need some help.”

  Franca finally sank back into her chair when Zedd nodded toward it. He smiled and told her the tea was excellent, and that she should have some herself.

  “Zedd, I think you need the Creator Himself to come help you. What do you think I can possibly do? I’m just an obscure, middling, unremarkable sorceress in a far-flung land. Why would you come to me?”

  Zedd squinted. He pointed. “What are you hiding with that neck band?”

  Her fingers brushed her throat. “A scar. You remember the Blood of the Fold?” Zedd nodded that he did. “Well, most every place has men like that, men who hate magic, men who think those with magic are responsible for every miserable thing that happens in their lives.”

  “Yes, every place has its zealots.”

  “Here, zealotry went by the name Serin Rajak. He’s the usual type: vicious and vengeful. He’s talented at expressing his delusions in a way that whips up the emotions of others and pulls them into his wicked ways.”

  “So his idea of ridding the world of evil was killing you?”

  “Me and those like me.”

  She briefly pulled down the neck band to reveal a scar.

  “He hanged me by my neck while he and his followers started to build a fire under me. He’s rather fond of burning. Thinks it purges the world of the person’s magic—keeps it from lingering after death.”

  Zedd si
ghed. “It never ends. So, apparently you convinced him to leave you be.”

  She smiled. “Cost him an eye, what he did to me.”

  “Can’t say I blame you.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  Zedd sought to change the subject. “I presume you’ve heard about the war with the Old World?”

  “Of course. We’ve had representatives from the Imperial Order here to discuss the matter with our people.”

  Zedd sat up straighter. “What? The Order has people here?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. Certain people in the government listen closely to what the Imperial Order has to say. I fear the Order is making offers to high officials. And has been doing so for quite some time.”

  She watched him over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. She seemed to decide to tell him more.

  “Some people have been considering sending a secret message to the Mother Confessor, to ask that she come and investigate.”

  “With the chimes loose, she will be without her power, the same as you and I. Until the chimes are banished, she can be no help with anything like that.”

  Franca sighed. “Yes, I see what you mean. It would be best if we could see the chimes banished.”

  “In the meantime, perhaps people here should investigate the matter.”

  She set down her cup. “Who is going to question the Minister of Culture’s office?”

  “The Directors,” Zedd offered.

  She turned her cup around and around on the tabletop. “Maybe” was all she said.

  When Zedd didn’t say anything, she sought to fill the silence. “In Anderith, you do what you must to get along.”

  “There are always those who will.” Zedd slouched back in his chair. “It will end up being irrelevant anyway. Anderith is going to have to surrender to Richard and the new D’Haran empire he is gathering to resist the invasion of the Imperial Order.”

  Zedd took another sip. “Did I mention he is also the Seeker of Truth?”

  Franca looked up. “No, you neglected to mention it.”

  “Richard won’t allow Anderith to carry on in the manner they seem to be doing—to have corrupt officials colluding with the Order. He and the Mother Confessor will put an end to such dangerous clandestine scheming. That’s one of the reasons he’s been forced to seize power. He means to consolidate rule under fair and open law.”

  “Fair law,” she mused, as if it were a child’s wish. “We are a prosperous land, Zedd. Anders have a good life. If it were the Hakens listening to the Imperial Order, I could understand it, they could be said to have cause, but Anders are the ones listening, and they are the ones already with power.”

  Zedd contemplated his tea. “Nothing nettles some people more than other people being free. In much the same way that Serin Rajak fellow hates those who have magic, the ruling elite—or those who would be—despise freedom. They find joy only in perpetuating misery.”

  Zedd sought to take the frost off the chill subject. “So, Franca, do you have a husband, or do the handsome men of the world still have a chance to court you?”

  Franca smiled to herself for a time before she spoke. “My heart belongs to someone.…”

  Zedd reached across the table and patted her hand. “Good for you.”

  She shook her head as her smile ghosted away. “No. He’s married. I can’t allow my feelings to be known. I would forever hate myself if I gave him any reason to decide to leave his beautiful bride and take up instead an aging spinster like me. I dare not let him even guess my feelings.”

  “I’m sorry, Franca,” he said in gentle sympathy. “Life—or should I say love—sometimes seems so unfair. At least it may seem so now, but someday…”

  Franca dismissed the matter with a gesture—more for herself than for him, he thought. She met his gaze again.

  “Zedd, I’m flattered you would come to me—for that matter that you would even remember my name—but why would you think I can help you? You have more power than I. Or at least you did.”

  “To be quite honest, I didn’t come for the purpose of seeking your help in the way you might think. I came here because as a young wizard I learned this to be the place where the chimes were entombed—in Toscla, or Anderith, as it’s now called.”

  “Really? I never knew that. Where in Anderith are they entombed?”

  Zedd spread his hands. “I was hoping you might know. You were the only name I knew from here, so I came seeking you out. I need help.”

  “I’m sorry, Zedd, but I had no idea the chimes were entombed here.” She again took up her cup and sipped in thought. “However, if, as you say, the chimes can’t get the soul of your grandson, they might eventually be pulled back into the world of the dead. We might need do nothing to bring it about. The whole problem might just vanish.”

  “Yes, there is that hope, but you must keep in mind the nature of the underworld.”

  “Meaning?”

  Zedd tapped the outer circle of the Grace inlaid on the tabletop. “Here begins the underworld, where life crosses over.” He glided his hand past the table’s edge. “Beyond is eternity.

  “Because the underworld is eternal, time has no meaning. There may be beginning when we cross over, but there is no end, so the concept of time unravels there. It is only here in the world of life where time is defined by beginning and end giving it some reference points, that it has significance.

  “The chimes were conjured from that timeless place beyond, and derive their power from there, so time is meaningless to them.

  “Perhaps it’s true that without obtaining the soul they crossed over to help, they will be pulled back to the underworld. However, to timeless beings, their time here may be viewed by them as but an instant as they wait to see if they will succeed, or as they enjoy a bit of frolic at bringing death and destruction, except that instant to them could be a millennium to this world. It could be ten millennia and still be but a meaningless twinkle in time to them—especially since they have no souls and can’t really experience life.”

  She had been hanging on every word, seeming to be starved for conversation of things few but the gifted could comprehend.

  “Yes, I see your point.” She raised a finger. “But by the same token, they could be gone today—vanish as we speak—feeling endless frustration in a world with time, once they begin to find they must function within the alien confines of time and a schedule. The soul they seek, after all, has only so much time in this world. They must pursue and capture his soul while he lives.”

  “Well put and a worthy consideration, but how long shall we wait? At some point it will be too late for things of magic to recover. Some surely now lie ailing with the fading of magic. How long until they die out forever?”

  “I see your stargazers wilting out on the path to your home.” Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “But much worse, how long until magic such as that of the gambit moth fails? What if the crops now growing are soon tainted?”

  Her face, creased with concern, turned away.

  Not knowing her well, Zedd didn’t bring it up, but without magic, Jagang and the Imperial Order were only that much more powerful. Without magic to aid them, many more would die fighting him, and it very well could be blood spilled to no good end.

  “Franca, as guardians of the veil, protectors of helpless creatures of magic, and as stewards of magic’s promise to mankind, we must act with all due haste. We know not where the line lies that makes meaningful aid too late.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Yes, you are right, of course. Why do you need to know where the chimes are entombed? What will that help you accomplish?”

  “Their ancient banishment, in order to nullify the original conjuring that brought them here, would have by necessity had to again breach the veil. Such a counterspell would itself have had to be balanced with an ancillary spell to allow their return to the world of life. Such a return spell could have been exceedingly narrow in terms—invocation of threes and all that—but
it wouldn’t matter; the mere existence of a return mechanism was all the balance the banishment spell would have required.”

  Zedd slowly ran his finger around the rim of his teacup. “From what I know of the matter, I believe the nature of their existence dictates that the chimes can only return to the world of life, once the narrow requirements of the balancing mechanism are met, through the gateway of their banishment. That’s why I’ve had to come here.”

  She stared off in reflection. “Yes, that makes sense. The gateway, wherever it is, would be open.”

  “Being as you don’t know where the chimes are entombed, perhaps you can be my guide.”

  Her gaze came back to him. “Where could we look? Do you have in mind a place to start?”

  After another sip, Zedd set down his cup.

  “My idea was you might be able to help me get into the library.”

  “The Library of Culture? At the Minister of Culture’s estate?”

  “That’s the one. They have ancient texts there. At least they used to. Since the chimes were banished here in Anderith, the library might contain records or other information so I could find where it took place, and thus the gateway. They might even have other information of use.”

  “What are the names of the books you seek? Perhaps I know them.”

  “I don’t know what books might be of help, if such books even exist, or if they do, that they are here. I will just have to start looking through those volumes in the library and see what we can find.”

  She leaned forward. “Zedd, there are thousands of books there.”

  “I know. I’ve seen them before.”

  “And if you find a book that names this place, then what?”

  Zedd shrugged in a deliberately vague manner. “First step first.”

  If he could find no information on the mechanism of their banishment, he had an idea of what he might have to do should he be able to find the location of the entombment. Even if he did find such information and it was a simple matter, without the use of his magic he would be helpless to reverse the problem.

  He might be forced to take desperate measures.

  “So, what about the Library of Culture? Can I get in there?”