Soul of the Fire

by Terry Goodkind

  As did Joseph Ander, Richard thought to try again.

  “Yes, I know, and I’m not saying that doesn’t work, but he believed there was more. That magic could be taken to a higher level—to a plane beyond that which most people with the gift used.”

  Now she really was frowning. “Richard, that’s madness.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He picked up the journey book.

  “This is in answer to something unrelated they asked—but you have to hear this to understand the way Joseph Ander thinks.”

  He read to her the crux of the translation.

  “‘A wizard who cannot truly destroy cannot truly create.’” Richard tapped the book. “He was talking about a wizard like the gifted now, a wizard with only the Additive—like Zedd. Ander didn’t even consider a man to have the gift, if he didn’t have both sides. He thought of such a man as simply an aberration, and hopelessly disadvantaged.”

  Richard went back to the journey book and read on.

  “‘A wizard must know himself or he risks working ill magic that harms his own free will.’ That’s him talking about the creative aspects of magic beyond the structure of it. ‘Magic intensifies and concentrates passions, strengthening not only such things as joy, but ruinous passions, too, and in this way they may become obsessions, and unbearable unless released.’”

  “Sounds like he’s trying to justify being destructive,” she said.

  “I don’t think so. I think he’s on to something important, a higher balance, as it were.”

  Kahlan shook her head, clearly not catching what he saw, but he could think of no way to get it across to her, so he read on.

  “This is important. ‘Imagination is what makes a great wizard, for with it, he is able to transcend the limitations of tradition and go beyond the structure of what now exists into the higher realm of creating the very fabric of magic.’”

  “That’s what you were talking about? About him thinking of it as an… an art form? A means of expression? Like he’s the Creator Himself—weaving a cloth of magic out of nothing?”

  “Exactly. But listen to this. This, I believe, may be the most important thing Joseph Ander has to say. When the chimes ceased being a problem, the other wizards cautiously asked what he did. You can almost read the anxiety in their words. This is his terse reply to their question of what he had done to the chimes.

  “‘A Grace might rise in obedience to an inventive spell.’”

  Kahlan rubbed her arms, clearly disturbed by the answer. “Dear spirits, what does that mean?”

  Richard leaned closed to her, “I think it means he dreamed up something—a new magic, outside the parameters of the original conjuring that brought the chimes into this world. Magic to suit the situation, and himself.

  “In other words, Joseph Ander got creative.”

  Kahlan’s green eyes cast about. He knew she was considering the depths of aberration with which they were dealing. This was the madman who had finally inflicted the chimes on them.

  “The world is coming apart,” she whispered to herself, “and you’re talking about Joseph Ander using magic as an art form?”

  “I’m just telling you what the man said.” Richard turned to the last page. “I skipped ahead. I wanted to see the last thing he wrote the wizards.”

  Richard studied the High D’Haran words again to be certain of the translation, and then read Joseph Ander’s words.

  “‘In the end, I have concluded I must reject the Creator and the Keeper both. I instead create my own solution, my own rebirth and death, and in so doing will always protect my people. And so farewell, for I shall lay my soul on troubled waters, and thus watch over for all time that which I have so carefully wrought, and which is now safeguarded and inviolate.’”

  Richard looked up. “See? Do you understand?” He saw she didn’t. “Kahlan, I don’t think he banished the chimes as he was supposed to. I think he instead used them for his own purposes.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Used them? What can you use the chimes for?”

  “The Dominie Dirtch.”

  “What!” She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. “But then how was it possible for us to follow such a well-defined, prescribed, strict outline and inadvertently call them forth? That sort of structure is exactly what you are telling me Joseph Ander thought he was beyond.”

  Richard had been waiting for that exact argument. “That’s the balance. Don’t you see? Magic must be balanced. In order to do something creative, he had to balance it with something not creative, a very strict formula. That it is so strict in its requirements to free the chimes is in itself proof of the creativity of what he did.”

  He knew her well enough to tell she didn’t agree, but wasn’t in the mood to argue. She said simply, “So how do we then banish the chimes?”

  Richard shook his head with defeat in that much of it.

  “I don’t know. I fear there is no answer to that question. The wizards of Joseph Ander’s time were equally frustrated and beaten by the man. In the end, they simply considered this place lost to them. I’m beginning to believe Joseph Ander created an unbreakable magic inside a puzzle without a solution.”

  Kahlan took the book from his hands, closed it, and placed it back on the little table.

  “Richard, I think you’re getting a little crazy yourself, reading the rantings of a lunatic. That’s not the way magic works.”

  That’s what the wizards at the Keep had told Ander—that he couldn’t convert and control an element that was innately uncontrollable. Richard didn’t tell Kahlan that, though. She wasn’t prepared to think of magic in these terms.

  Neither were the other wizards.

  Joseph Ander had not been at all pleased to have his ideas so summarily dismissed, thus his final farewell.

  Kahlan put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying your best. I’m just getting nervous. The vote should be coming back soon.”

  Richard put his hands on her waist. “Kahlan, people will see the truth. They have to.”

  She gazed off. “Richard,” she whispered, “make love to me?”

  “What?”

  She looked up into his eyes. “It’s been so long. Make love to me.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “We can tie the tent shut. No one comes in without asking permission anyway.” She smiled. “I promise to be quiet, and not to embarrass you.” With a finger, she lifted his chin. “I promise I won’t even tell your other wife.”

  That brought a brief smile, but Richard wasn’t able to keep hold of it.

  “Kahlan, we can’t.”

  “Well, I think I could. I bet I could change your mind, too.”

  Richard lifted the small dark stone on her necklace. “Kahlan, magic has failed. This won’t work.”

  “I know. That’s why I want to.” She clutched at his shirt. “Richard, I don’t care. What if we make a baby? So what?”

  “You know ‘so what.’”

  “Richard, would it be so bad? Really?” Her green eyes were filling with tears. “Would it be so bad if we made a child together?”

  “No, no, of course not, Kahlan. It isn’t that. You know I want to. But we can’t right now. We can’t afford to see Shota in every shadow, waiting to do as she promised. We can’t afford the distraction from our duty.”

  “Our duty. What about us. What about what we want?”

  Richard turned away. “Kahlan, do you really want to bring a child into this world? Do you want to bring a child into the madness of this world? The madness of the chimes and a horrific war looming before us?”

  “What if I said yes?”

  He turned back to her and smiled. He could see he was only upsetting her. Du Chaillu being pregnant was probably making Kahlan think of having her own child.

  “Kahlan, I want to, if you do. All right? Whenever you want, we will, and I’ll deal with Shota. But in the meantime could we wait until we see if there is even going t
o be a world of life—or even a world with freedom—into which we can bring our child?”

  She finally smiled. “Of course. You’re right, Richard. I guess I was just getting… carried away. We have the chimes to deal with, and the Imperial Order…”

  Richard took her in his arms to comfort her, when Captain Meiffert called from outside the tent. “See?” he whispered to her. She smiled.

  “Yes, Captain, come on in.”

  The man stepped inside reluctantly. He wouldn’t meet Richard’s gaze.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “Ah, Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor… the vote in Fairfield is counted. Some of our men have returned with numbers. But not all of them,” he was quick to add. “There are more yet to come back. It will take a few days yet before they all travel back.”

  “So, Captain, what are the results?”

  The man handed over a slip of paper. Richard read it, but it took a moment for it to sink in.

  “Seven in ten against us,” he whispered.

  Kahlan gently lifted the paper from his fingers and looked at it. Without a word, she set it on the table.

  “All right,” he said, “we know they were telling all those lies in the city. We just have to realize it will be different out around the land.”

  “Richard,” Kahlan whispered, “they will spread the same lies around the land.”

  “But we talked to those people. We spent time with them.” Richard turned to Captain Meiffert. “What about the outlying places?”

  “Well—”

  “What about, about, that place—” Richard snapped his fingers. “Westbrook. Where we spent time looking at Joseph Ander’s things. What about Westbrook? Is the vote back from there?”

  The man had backed away a step. “Yes, Lord Rahl.”

  “And what is it, then?”

  Kahlan put a hand on his arm. “Richard,” she whispered, “the captain is on our side.”

  Richard pressed his fingers to his temples as he took a breath. “What is the vote from Westbrook, Captain?”

  The man, having lost much of his color, cleared his throat. “Nine of ten marked an ex against us, Lord Rahl.”

  Richard stood stunned. He had talked to those people. He remembered some of their names, their beautiful children.

  Richard felt as if the ground had disappeared out from beneath his feet, and he was falling through insanity. He had been up day and night, trying to help these people have their own way over their lives, have freedom, and they rejected it.

  “Richard,” Kahlan said in soft sympathy, “it was nothing you did. They told those people lies. They frightened the people.”

  Richard lifted a hand in a vague manner. “But… I talked to them, explained to them that this was for them, for their future, for the freedom of their children.…”

  “I know, Richard.”

  Captain Meiffert stood awkwardly. Kahlan signaled with a hand, dismissing him. He bowed and quietly backed out of the tent.

  “I’m going for a walk,” Richard whispered. “I need to be alone.” He waved toward the blankets. “Just go on to bed without me.”

  Richard walked alone into the darkness.

  66

  He quietly dismissed for the evening the woman dusting all the elaborate woodwork and, after closing the door behind her, went to the bedroom. Teresa turned when she heard him come in.

  “Dalton.” She smiled. “There you are, sweetheart.”

  “Tess.”

  He had run the entire state of affairs through his mind a thousand times and had finally come to the place where he could face Tess and know he would be able to control his response.

  He had to control himself.

  He had retreated into his most trusted method of handling things. Only there could he be sure of his control. He was going to handle this, just as he handled so many other things.

  “I didn’t expect to see you in so early.”

  “Tess, I heard something.”

  She sat at the mirror, brushing her beautiful hair.

  “Really? Some interesting news?”

  “A bit. I heard you have been occupying the bed of the Sovereign. Is this true?”

  He knew now it was. He had pulled every thread of his cobweb.

  She stopped brushing and looked at him in the mirror, her face a mix of emotions. Defiance predominated them.

  “Dalton, it’s not like he’s another man. It’s the Sovereign.” She stood and turned to him, unsure how he was going to react. “He is next to the Creator.”

  “May I ask how this came about?”

  “Bertrand said the Creator spoke to him.” She stared off to a distant place. “The Creator told Bertrand that because I had been faithful to you, and had never been with another man, and because you had been faithful to me, the Creator had chosen me to be the one to release Bertrand’s worldly tensions.”

  Her eyes focused on him again.

  “So, you see, it’s a reward for you, too, Dalton. For your faithfulness to me.”

  Dalton made himself answer. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Bertrand says it is my holy duty.”

  “Holy duty.”

  “When I’m with him, it’s like… I don’t know. It’s so special. To help the Sovereign in this world is an honor as well as a duty. To think, I help relieve him of the awful tension that builds up in him from being Sovereign.

  “It’s an awesome responsibility, Dalton, being Sovereign.”

  Dalton nodded. “You’re right.”

  Seeing that he wasn’t going to get angry and harm her, she stepped closer.

  “Dalton, I still love you just the same.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Tess. That was what I’m most worried about. I fear I’ve lost your love.”

  She grasped his shoulders. “No, silly. Never. I still love you the same. But the Sovereign has called upon me. You have to understand that. He needs me.”

  Dalton swallowed. “Of course, darling. But we can… we can still be… we can still be together in bed?”

  “Oh, Dalton, of course we can. Is that what you were worried about? That I’d not have time for you, too? Dalton, I love you, and will always want you.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Come to bed, sweetheart, and I’ll show you. You might even find me more exciting, now.

  “And Dalton, it’s a high honor to be with the Sovereign. Everyone will only think more of you.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Come to bed, then.” She kissed his cheek. “Let me show you how happy I can make you?”

  Dalton scratched his forehead. “Ah, I would love nothing better, really I would, but I have a whole pile of urgent work. The vote just came in.…”

  “I know. Bertrand told me.”

  “Bertrand.”

  She nodded. “The Sovereign, silly. He told me. I’m so proud of you, Dalton. I know you had a part in it. It wasn’t all just Bertrand’s work. I know you had a hand in helping him win.”

  “A part. It’s kind of the Sovereign to take note of my contribution.”

  “He speaks very highly of you, Dalton.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” Dalton cleared his throat. “Ah, look, Tess, I’ve got to get to… get to my, my work. I have urgent matters.”

  “Should I wait up?”

  Dalton waved a hand. “No. No, darling, I have to make a trip into Fairfield to see to some matters.”

  “Tonight? Yet tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dalton, you mustn’t work so hard. Promise me you will take some time for yourself. Promise me? I worry for you.”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m fine.”

  She smiled her most intimate smile. “Promise me you will make time to make love to me?”

  Dalton smiled. “Of course. I promise.” He kissed her cheek. “Good night, darling.”

  The woman holding out the vial frowned. “Do I know you?”

  “No,�
� Kahlan said, turning her face down so it would be shadowed by the lamplight. “I don’t see how. I’m from far away. I only came into Fairfield for this.”

  Kahlan wore common clothes she used for traveling, and a head wrap made of a scarf so her long hair would be hidden. She put on the head wrap after she was away from their camp. With Richard off somewhere, the soldiers insisted on escorting her on her walk to get “some air.” She had gruffly ordered them to leave her alone and go back to their posts.

  Such orders would never have worked with Cara. Cara would have ignored them. The soldiers were not as fearless, or as reckless, or as smart, as Cara.

  The woman sighed. “Well, I understand, my dear. A number of women have made a journey for such as this.”

  She held out the stoppered vial, clearly expecting payment first. Kahlan passed her a gold sovereign.

  “Keep it all. I expect your silence in return.”

  The woman bowed her head. “I quite understand. Thank you, my dear. Very generous of you. Thank you.”

  Kahlan took the vial, holding it nestled in her palm, staring through its clouded glass at the clear liquid inside. She realized her other hand was on her belly. She let the arm drop to her side.

  “Now,” the woman said, pointing at the poorly made glass vial, “it will remain good for the night, since I just mixed it for you. You can take it whenever you please, but if you wait until morning it will likely not still be potent enough. I’d suggest you do it tonight, before you go to bed.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  The woman’s face frowned with concern. “Likely not more than a regular cycle, my dear. Not with it being this early. There will just be the bleeding, so be prepared for that.”

  Kahlan had meant would it hurt the baby. She couldn’t bring herself to repeat the question.

  “Just drink it all down,” the woman went on. “It isn’t so bad to taste, but you might want some tea with it.”