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rolling the flames. "Conjured by their own wizard for the expected defense,
the fire had been hardened against shields, so instead of fizzling, it
stayed viable. That, of course, enabled the curved shield to roll the fire
back without it extinguishing. And, of course, being hardened to shields,
the wizard's own quickly thrown up defensive shields couldn't stop his own
fire's return."
"But he could just cut it oft!" Warren was becoming panicked, as if
seeing his own wizard's fire coming back at him. "The wizard who created it
could call it and cut it off."
"Could he?" Zedd smiled. "He thought so, too, but he hadn't been
prepared for the peculiar nature of the enemy's shield. Don't you see? It
not only rolled the fire back, but in so doing rolled around the fire as it
went, protecting it from any alteration by magic."
"Of course . . ." Warren whispered to himself.
"The shield was also sprinkled with a provenance-seeking spell, so it
rolled the fire back toward the wizard who conjured it. He died by his own
fire-after it had seared through hundreds of his own men on its way to him."
Silence settled into the tent. Even the general, still holding out the
albino mosquito, sat transfixed.
"You see," Zedd finally went on, tossing his fork down onto his plate,
"using the gift in war is not simply an act of exercising your power, but an
act of using your wits."
Zedd pointed. "For example, consider that albino mosquito General
Reibisch is holding. Under cover of darkness, just like right now, tens of
thousands of them, conjured by the enemy, could be sneaking into this camp
to infect your men with fever, and no one would even realize they were under
attack. Then, in the morning, the enemy strikes a camp of weak and sick
soldiers and slaughters the lot of you."
Sister Philippa, over on the other side of Adie, swished her hand in
alarm at a tiny buzzing mosquito. "But, the gifted we have could counter
such a thing." It was more a plea than an argument.
"Really? It's difficult to detect such an infinitesimal bit of magic.
None of you detected these minuscule invaders, did you?"
"Well, no, but . . ."
Zedd fixed a fierce glare on Sister Philippa. "It's night. In the
night, they simply seem to be ordinary mosquitoes, pesky, but no different
from any other. Why, the general here didn't notice them. Neither did any of
you gifted people. You can't detect the fever they carry, either, because
it, too, is such a tiny speck of magic you aren't watching for it-you're
looking for something huge and powerful and fearsome.
"Most of the gifted Sisters will be bitten in their sleep, without ever
knowing it happened, until they awake in the pitch blackness with the
shivering chills of a frightful fever, only to discover the first truly
debilitating symptom of this particular fever: blindness. You see, it isn't
the blackness of night they awake to-dawn has already broken-but blindness.
Then they find that their legs won't obey their wishes. Their ears are
ringing with what sounds like an endless, tingling scream."
The general's gaze darted about, testing his eyesight as Zedd went on.
He. twisted a big finger in an ear as if to clean it out.
"By now, anyone bitten is too weak to stand. They lose control of their
bodily functions and lie helpless in their own filth. They are within hours
of death . . . but those last hours will seem like a year."
"How do we counter it?" On the edge of his seat, Warren licked his
lips. "What's the cure?"
"Cure? There is no cure! Now a fog is beginning to creep toward the
camp. This time, the few gifted left can sense that the wide mass of
seething murk is foul with dark, suffocating magic. They warn everyone.
Those too sick to stand wail in terror. They can't see, but they can hear
the distant battle cries of the advancing enemy. In a panic not to be
touched by the deadly fog, anyone able to rise from their bedrolls does so.
Too delirious to stand, a few manage to crawl. The rest run for their lives
before the advancing fog.
"It's the last mistake they ever make," Zedd whispered. He swept a hand
out before their white faces. "They run headlong into the horror of a
waiting death trap. "
Everyone was wide-eyed and slack-jawed by now, sitting on the edge of
their benches.
"So, General," Zedd said in a bright, cheery tone as he sat back, "what
about those mass graves? Or are you planning on any of you left alive just
abandoning the sick for dead and leaving the bodies to rot? Probably not a
bad idea. There will be enough to worry about without the burdensome task of
trying to care for the dying and burying all the dead-especially since the
very act of touching their white flesh will contaminate the living with a
completely unexpected sickness, and then-"
Verna shot to her feet. "But what can we do!" She could plainly see the
potential for chaos all around her. "How can we counter such vile magic?"
She threw open her arms. "What do we need to do?"
Zedd shrugged. "I thought you and your Sisters had it all figured out.
I thought you knew what you were doing." He waggled his hand over his
shoulder, gesturing off to the south, toward the enemy. "I thought you said
you had the situation well in hand."
Verna silently sank back down to the bench beside Warren.
"Uh, Zedd . . ." General Reibisch swallowed in distress. He held out
the mosquito. "Zedd, I think I'm starting to feel dizzy. Isn't there
anything you can do?"
"About what?"
"The fever. I think my vision is getting dimmer. Can you do nothing?"
"No, nothing."
"Nothing."
"Nothing, because there's nothing wrong with you. I just conjured a few
albino mosquitoes to make a point. The point is that what I saw when I came
into this camp scared the wits out of me. If the gifted among the enemy are
at all diabolical,
and with Jagang we have ample reason to believe they are, then this
army is ill prepared for the true nature of the threat."
Sister Philippa haltingly lifted a hand like a schoolgirl with a
question. "But, with all the gifted among us, surely, we would . . . know .
. . or something."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you: the way things are now, you won't
know. It's the things you never heard of, haven't seen before, don't expect,
and can't even imagine, that are going to be coming for you. The enemy will
use conventional magic, to be sure, and that will be trouble enough, but
it's the albino mosquitoes you must fear."
"As you said, though, you only conjured them to make a point," Warren
said. "Maybe the enemy isn't as smart as you, and won't think of such
things."
"The Order did not take over all of the Old World by being stupid but
by being ruthless." Zedd's brow drew lower. He lifted a finger skyward to
mark his words. "Besides, they have already thought of just such things.
This past spring, one of the Sisters in the hands of the enemy used magic to
unleash a deadly plague that could not be detected by anyone with the gift.
Tens of thousands of people, from newborn infants to the old, suffered
gruesome deaths."
Those Sisters, in the hands of the enemy, were a grave and ever-present
danger. Ann had gone off alone on a mission to either rescue those Sisters
or eliminate them. From what Zedd had seen when he had been down in
Anderith, Ann had failed in her mission. He didn't know what had become of
her, but he knew that Jagang still held Sisters captive.
"But we stopped the plague," Warren said.
"Richard stopped it, as only he could." Zedd held the gaze of the young
wizard. "Did you know that in order to save us from that grim fate, he had
to venture to the Temple of the Winds, hidden away beyond the veil of life
in the underworld itself? Neither you nor I can imagine the toll such an
experience must have taken on him. I saw a shadow of the specter in his eyes
when he spoke of it.
"I can't even hazard a guess as to how trifling a chance at success he
had when he started on so hopeless a journey. Had he not prevailed against
all odds, we would all be dead by now from an unseen death brought on by
magic we could not detect and could not counter. I'd not want to again count
on such an auspicious deliverance."
No one could disagree with him; they nodded slightly, or looked away.
The tent had become a gloomy place.
Verna rubbed her fingers across her brow. "Pride is of no use to the
dead. I admit it: those gifted among us have little knowledge of what we're
doing when it comes to using our gift in warfare. We know some things about
fighting, perhaps even a great many things, but I admit we could be woefully
lacking in the depth of knowledge needed.
"Think us fools if you will, but don't ever think us at odds with you,
Zedd; we are all here on the same side." Her brown eyes betrayed nothing but
simple sincerity. "We not only could use your help, we would gratefully
welcome it."
"Of course he will help us," Adie scoffed while giving Zedd a scolding
frown.
"Well, you have a good start. Admitting that you don't know something
is the first step to learning." Zedd scratched his chin. "Every day, I amaze
myself with all I don't know."
"That would be wonderful," Warren said. "If you would help us, I mean."
He
sounded hesitant, but forged ahead anyway. "I would really like to have
the benefit of a real wizard's experience."
Despondent with the weight of his other troubles, Zedd shook his head.
"I would like to-and to be sure I will give you all some advice in the task
at hand. However, I've been on a long and frustrating journey, and I'm
afraid I'm not yet finished with it. I can't stay. I must soon be off
again."
Warren swiped back his curly blond hair. "What sort of journey have you
been on, Zedd?"
Zedd pointed a bony finger. "You don't need to keep that flattened
mosquito, General."
General Reibisch realized it was still between his finger and thumb. He
tossed it away. Everyone awaited Zedd's words. He smoothed the heavy maroon
robes over his twiglike thighs as his gaze absently studied the dirt floor.
He let out a crestfallen sigh. "I was recovering from my own auspicious
deliverance from grappling with remarkable magic I'd never before
encountered, and, as I regained my senses, spent months searching. I was
down in Anderith, and saw some of what happened after the Order swept in
there. It was a dark time for the people. Not only from the rampaging
soldiers, but also from one of your Sisters, Verna. Death's Mistress they
called her."
"Do you know which one it is?" Verna asked in a bitter voice at hearing
of a Sister causing harm.
"No. I only saw her once, from a goodly distance. Had I been fully
recovered, I might have tried to remedy the situation, but I wasn't myself
yet and dared not confront her. She also had a few thousand soldiers with
her. The sight of all the soldiers, led by a woman they had heard of and
feared, had people in a panic. The Sister was young, with blond hair. She
wore a black dress."
"Dear Creator," Verna whispered. "Not one of mine-one of the Keeper's.
There are few women born with the strength of power such as she has. She
also has power acquired by nefarious means; Nicci is a Sister of the Dark."
"I've gotten reports," General Reibisch said. By his grim tone, Zedd
knew the reports must have had it right. "I've heard, too, that it's quieted
considerably."
Zedd nodded. "The Order was at first brutal, but now 'Jagang the
Just'-as they have taken to calling him-has spared them further harm. In
most places, other than the capital of Fairfield where the most killing took
place, people have turned to supporting him as a liberator come to deliver
them into a better life. They're reporting neighbors, or travelers-whoever
they suspect is not an adherent to the noble ideals of the Order.
"I was all through Anderith, and spent a good deal of time behind the
enemy lines searching-without success. I then journeyed up into the wilds
and north to a number of towns, and even a few cities, but I can find no
sign of them. I guess my abilities were a long time in recovering; I only a
short time ago discovered where you all were. I have to commend you,
General, you've kept the presence of your forces well hidden-took me forever
to find your army. The boy, though, seems to have vanished without a trace."
Zedd's fists tightened in his lap. "I must find him."
"You mean Richard?" Adie asked. "You be searching for your grandson?"
"Yes. For Richard and Kahlan, both." Zedd lifted his hands in a
helpless gesture. "However, without any success, I must admit. I've talked
to no one who has seen even a sign of them. I've used every skill I possess,
but to no avail. If I didn't know better, I'd say they no longer existed."
Looks passed among everyone else. Zedd peered from one surprised face
to another. For the first time in months, Zedd's hopes rose. "What? What is
it? You know something?"
Verna gestured under the bench. "Show him, General."
At her urging, the general lifted out a map roll. He pulled it wide in
his callused hands and laid it on the ground at his feet. The map was turned
around so Zedd could read it. General Reibisch tapped the mountains to the
west of Hartland.
"Right here, Zedd."
"Right there . . . what?"
"Richard and Kahlan," Verna said.
Zedd gaped at her face and then down at the map. General Reibisch's
finger hovered over a wild range of peaks. Zedd knew those mountains. They
were an inhospitable place.
"There? Dear spirits, why would Richard and Kahlan be all the way up
there in such a forbidding place? What are they doing there?"
"Kahlan be hurt," Adie said in a consoling tone. ',
"Hurt?"
"She was at the brink of passing into the spirit world. From what we be
told, maybe she saw the world on the other side of the veil." Adie pointed
to the map, "Richard took her there to recover."
"But . . . why would he do that?" With a hand, Zedd flattened his wavy
white hair to the top of his head. His thoughts spun in a confusing jumble
while he tried to take it all in at once. "She could be healed-"
"No. She be spelled. If magic be used to try to heal her, a vile hidden
spell would be unleashed and she would die."
Understanding washed over him. "Dear spirits . . . I'm thankful the boy
knew it in time." Before the horror of memories of the screams could come
roaring to the fore of his thoughts, Zedd slammed a mental door on them. He
swallowed with the pain of those that slipped through. "But still, why would
he go there? He's needed here."
"He certainly is," Verna snapped. By her tone, it was a sore subject.
"He can't come here," Warren said. When Zedd only stared at him, he
explained further. "We don't understand it all, but we believe Richard is
following a prophecy of some sort."
"Prophecy!" Zedd dismissed it with a wave. "Richard doesn't take to
riddles, He hates them and won't pay heed to them. There are times when I
wish he would but he won't."
"Well, this one he's paying heed to." Warren pressed his lips tight for
a moment. "It's his own."
"His own . . . what?"
Warren cleared his throat. "Prophecy."
Zedd jumped to his feet. "What! Richard? Nonsense."
"He's a war wizard," Verna said with quiet authority.
Zedd passed a scowl among all the suddenly circumspect expressions. He
made a sour face and, with a flourish of his robes, returned to his seat
beside Adie.
"What is this prophecy?"
Warren twisted a little knot of his violet robes. "He didn't say,
exactly."
"Here." General Reibisch pulled some folded papers from a pocket. "He
wrote me letters. We've all read them."
Zedd stood and snatched the letters from the general's big fist. He
went to the table and smoothed out the pages. As everyone else sat silently
watching, Zedd leaned over the table and read Richard's words lying before
him.
With great authority, Richard paradoxically turned away from authority.
He said that after much reflection, he had come to an understanding that
arrived with the power of a vision, and he knew then, beyond doubt, that his
help would only bring about certain catastrophe.
In letters that followed, Richard said he and Kahlan were safe and she
was slowly recovering. Cara was with them. In response to letters General
Reibisch and others had written, Richard remained steadfast in his stand. He
warned them that the cause of freedom would be forever lost if he failed to
remain on his true path. He said that whatever decisions General Reibisch
and the rest of them made, he would not contradict or criticize. He told
them that his heart was with them, but they were on their own for the
foreseeable future. He said possibly forever.
His letters basically gave no real information, other than alluding to
his understanding or vision, and making it clear that they could expect no
guidance from him. Nonetheless, Zedd could read some of what the words
didn't say.
Zedd stared at the letters long after he had finished reading them. The
flame of the lamp wavered slowly from side to side, occasionally fluttering
and sending up a coiled thread of oily smoke. He could hear muffled voices
outside the tent as soldiers on patrol quietly passed along information.
Inside, everyone remained silent. They had all read the letters.
Verna's expression was tight with anxiety. She could hold her tongue no
longer. "Will you go to see him, Zedd? Convince him to return to the
struggle?"
Zedd lightly trailed his fingers over the words on paper. "I can't.
This is one time I can be of no help to him."
"But he's our leader in this struggle." The soft lamplight illuminated
the feminine grace of her slender fingers as she pressed them to her brow in
vain solace. Her hand fell back to her lap. "Without him . . ."
Zedd didn't answer her. He could not imagine what Ann's reaction to
such a development would be. For centuries she had combed through prophecies
in anticipation of the war wizard who would be born to lead them in this
battle for the very existence of magic. Richard was that war wizard, born to
the battle he had suddenly abandoned.
"What do you think be the problem?" Adie asked in her quiet, raspy
voice.
Zedd looked back to the letters one last time. He pulled his gaze from
the words and straightened. All eyes around the dimly lit tent were on him
as if hoping he could somehow rescue them from a fate they couldn't
comprehend, but instinctively dreaded.
"This is a time of trial to the depth of Richard's soul." Zedd slipped
his hands up opposite sleeves until the silver brocade at the cuffs met. "A
passage, of sortsthrust upon him because of his comprehension of something
only he sees."
Warren cleared his throat. "What sort of trial, Zedd? Can you tell us?"
Zedd gestured vaguely as memories of terrible times flashed through his
mind. "A struggle . . . a reconciliation . . ."
"What sort of reconciliation?" Warren pressed.
Zedd gazed into the young man's blue eyes, wishing he wouldn't ask so
many questions. "What is the purpose of your gift?"
"Its purpose? Well, I ability."
"It is to help others," Verna stated flatly. She clutched her light
blue cloak more tightly around her shoulders as if it were armor to defend
her from whatever Zedd might throw at her in answer.
"Ah. Then what are you doing here?"
The question caught her by surprise. "Here?"
"Yes." Zedd waved his arm, indicating a vague, distant place. "If the
gift is to help others, then why are you not out there doing it? There are
sick needing to be healed, ignorant needing to be taught, and the hungry
needing to be fed. Why are you just sitting there, healthy, smart, and well
fed?"
Verna rearranged her cloak as she squared her shoulders into a posture
of firm resolve. "In battle, if you abandon the gates to help a fallen
comrade, you have given in to a weakness: your inability to steel yourself
to an immediate suffering in order to prevent suffering on a much greater
scale. If I run off to help the few people I could in that manner, I must
leave my post here, with this army, as they try to keep the enemy from
storming the gateway into the New World."
Zedd's estimation of the woman rose a little. She had come
tantalizingly close to expressing the essence of a vital truth. He offered
her a small smile of respect as he nodded. She looked more surprised by that
than she had by his question.
"I can certainly see why the Sisters of the Light are widely regarded
as proper servants of need." Zedd stroked his chin. "So then, it is your
conviction that we with the ability-the gift-are born into the world to be
slaves to those with needs?"
"Well, no . . . but if there is a great need-"
"Then we are more tightly bound in the chains of slavery to those with
every greater need," Zedd finished for her. "Thus, anyone with a need, by
right-to your mind-becomes our master? Indentured servant to one cause, or
to any greater cause that might come along, but chattel all the same. Yes?"
This time, Verna chose not to dance with him over what she apparently
regarded as a patch of quicksand. It didn't prevent her from glaring at him,
though.
Zedd held that there could be only one philosophically valid answer to
the question; if Verna knew it, she didn't offer it.
"Richard has apparently come to a place where he must critically
examine his alternatives and determine the proper course of his life," Zedd
explained. "Perhaps circumstances have caused him to question the proper use
of his abilities, and, in view of his values, his true purpose."
Verna opened her hands in a helpless gesture. "1 don't see how he could
have any higher purpose than to be here, helping the army against the threat
to the New World-the threat to the lives of free people."
Zedd sank back down onto the bench. "You do not see, and I do not see,
but Richard sees something."
"That doesn't mean he's right," Warren said.
Zedd studied the young man's face for a moment. Warren had fresh
features, but
. guess to . . . well, it just is. The gift is simply an
also a knowing look in his eyes that betrayed something beyond mere
youth. Zedd wondered how old Warren was.
"No, it does not mean Richard is right. He may be making a heroic
mistake that destroys our chance to survive."
"Kahlan thinks maybe it be a mistake," Adie finally put in, as if
regretting having to tell him. "She wrote a note to me-I believe without
Richard's knowledge, seeing as Cara wrote down Kahlan's words for her-and
gave it to the messenger. Kahlan says that she fears Richard be doing this
in part because of what happened to her. The Mother Confessor also confided
that she be afraid Richard has lost his faith in people, and, because of his
rejection by the people of Anderith, Richard may view himself as a fallen
leader."
"Bah." Zedd waved his hand dismissively. "A leader cannot follow behind
people, tail between his legs, sniffing for their momentary whims and
wishes, whining to follow them this way and that as they ramble through
life. Those kind of people are not looking for a leader-they are looking for
a master, and one will find them.
"A true leader forges a clear path through a moral wilderness so that
people might see the way. Richard was a woods guide because such is his
nature. Perhaps he is lost in that dark wood. If he is, he must find his way
out, and it must be a correctly reasoned course, if he is to be the true
leader of a free people."
Everyone silently considered the implications. The general was a man
who followed the Lord Rahl, and simply awaited his orders. The Sisters had
their own ideas. Zedd and Adie knew the way ahead was not what it might seem
to some.
"That's what Richard did for me," Warren said in a soft voice, staring
off into memories of his own. "He showed me the way-made me want to follow
him up out of the vaults. I had become comfortable down there, content with
my books and my fate, but I was a prisoner of that darkness, living my life
through the struggles and accomplishments of others. I never could
understand precisely how he inspired me to want to follow him up and out."
Warren looked up into Zedd's eyes. "Maybe he needs that same kind of help,
himself. Can you help him, Zedd?"
"He has entered a dark time for any man, and especially for a wizard.
He must come out the other side of this on his own. If I take him by the
hand and lead him through, so to speak, I might take him a way he would not
have selected on his own, and then he would forever be crippled by what I
had chosen for him .
. . . But worse yet, what if he's right? If I unwittingly forced him to
another course, it could doom us all and result in a world enslaved by the
Imperial Order." Zedd shook his head. "No. This much I know: Richard must be
left alone to do as he must. If he truly is the one to lead us in this
battle for the future of magic and of mankind, then this can only be part of
his journey as it must be traveled."
Almost everyone nodded, if reluctantly, at Zedd's words.
Warren didn't nod. He picked at the fabric of his violet robes.
"There's one thing we haven't considered." As everyone waited, his blue eyes
turned up to meet Zedd's gaze. In those eyes, Zedd saw an uncommon wisdom
that told him that this was a young man who could gaze into the depths of
things when most people saw only the sparkles on the surface.
"It could be," Warren said in a quiet but unflinching voice, "that
Richard, being gifted, and being a war wizard, has been visited by a
legitimate prophecy. War wizards are different from the rest of us. Their
ability is not narrowly specific, but broad. Prophecy is, at least
theoretically, within his purview. Moreover, Richard has Subtractive Magic
as well as Additive. No wizard born in the last three thousand
years has had both sides. While we can perhaps imagine, we could not
possibly begin to understand his potential, though the prophecies have
alluded to it.
"It could very well be that Richard has had a valid prophecy that he
clearly understands. If so, then he may be doing precisely what must be
done. It could even be that he clearly understands the prophecy and it is so
gruesome he is doing us the only kindness he can-by not telling us."
Verna covered his hand with hers. "You don't really believe that, do
you, Warren?" Zedd noticed that Verna put a lot of stock in what Warren
said.
Ann had told Zedd that Warren was only beginning to exhibit his gift of
prophecy. Such wizards-prophets-were so rare that they came along only once
or twice a millennium. The potential importance of such a wizard was
incalculable. Zedd didn't know how far along that path Warren really was,
yet. Warren probably didn't, either.
"Prophecy can be a terrible burden." Warren smoothed his robes along
his thigh. "Perhaps Richard's prophecy told him that if he is to ever have a
chance to oversee victory, he must not die with the rest of us in our
struggle against the army of the Imperial Order."
General Reibisch, silent about such wizardly doings, had nevertheless
been listening and watching intently. Sister Philippa's thumb twiddled a
button on her dress. Even with Verna's comforting hand on his, Warren, at
that moment, looked nothing but forlorn.
"Warren"-Zedd waited until their eyes met-"we all at times envision the
most fearful turn of events, simply because it's the most frightening thing
we can imagine. Don't invest your thoughts primarily in that which is not
the most likely reason for Richard's actions, simply because it is the
reason you fear the most. I believe Richard is struggling to understand his
place in all this. Remember, he grew up as a woods guide. He has to come to
terms not only with his ability, but with the weight of rule."
"Yes, but-"
Zedd lifted a finger for emphasis. "The truth of a situation most often
turns out to be that one with the simplest explanation."
The gloom on Warren's face finally melted away under the dawning
radiance of a luminous smile. "I'd forgotten that ancient bit of wisdom.
Thank you, Zedd."
General Reibisch, combing his curly beard with his fingers, pulled the
hand free and made a fist. "Besides, D'Harans will not be so easily bested.
We have more forces to call upon, and we have allies here in the Midlands
who will come to aid in the fight. We have all heard the reports of the size
of the Order, but they are just men, not evil spirits. They have gifted, but
so do we. They have yet to come faceto-face with the might of D'Haran
soldiers."
Warren picked up a small rock, not quite the size of his fist, and held
it in his palm as he spoke. "I mean no disrespect, General, and I do not
mean to dissuade you from our just cause, but the subject of the Order has
been a pastime of mine. I've studied them for years. I'm also from the Old
World."
"Fair enough. So what is it you have to tell us?"
"Well, say that the tabletop is the Old World-the area from which
Jagang draws his troops. Now, there are places, to be sure, where there are
few people spread over vast areas. But there are many places with great
populations, too."
"It's much the same in the New World," the general said. "D'Hara has
populous places, and desolate areas."
Warren shook his head. He passed his hand over the tabletop. "Say this
is the Old World-the whole of this table." He held up the rock to show the
general and then placed it on the edge of the tabletop. "This is the New
World. This is its size-this rock--compared to the Old World."
"But, but, that doesn't include D'Hara," General Reibisch sputtered.
"Surely . . . with D'Hara-"
"D'Hara is included in the rock."
"I'm afraid Warren is right," Verna said.
Sister Philippa, too, nodded grim acknowledgment. "Perhaps . . ." she
said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, "perhaps Warren is right,
and Richard has seen a vision of our defeat, and knows he must remain out of
it, or be lost with all the rest of us."
"I don't think that's it at all," Zedd offered in a gentle voice. "I
know Richard. If Richard thought we would lose, he would say so in order to
give people a chance to weigh that in their decisions."
The general cleared his throat. "Well, actually, one of the letters is
missing from that stack. It was the first-where Lord Rahl told me about his
vision. In it, Lord Rahl did say that we had no chance to win."
Zedd felt the blood drain down into his legs. He tried to keep his
manner unconcerned. "Oh? Where is the letter?"
The general gave Verna a sidelong glance.
"Well, actually," Verna said, "when I read it, I was angered and . . ."
"And she balled it up and threw it in the fire," Warren finished for
her.
Verna's face turned red, but she offered no defense. Zedd could
understand the sentiment, but he would have liked to have read it with his
own eyes. He forced a smile.
"Were those his actual words-that we had no chance to win?" Zedd asked,
trying not to sound alarmed. He could feel sweat running down the back of
his neck.
"No . . ." General Reibisch said as he shifted his shoulders inside his
uniform while giving the question careful thought. "No, Lord Rahl's words
were that we must not commit our forces to an attack directly against the
army of the Imperial Order, or our side will be destroyed and any chance for
winning in the future will be forever lost."
The feeling began to return to Zedd's fingers. He wiped a bead of sweat
from the side of his forehead. He was able to draw an easier breath. "Well,
that only makes sense. If they are as large a force as Warren says, then any
direct attack would be foolhardy."
It did make sense. Zedd wondered, though, why Richard would make such a
point of it to a man of General Reibisch's experience. Perhaps Richard was
only being cautious. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.
Adie slipped her hand under Zedd's and cuddled her loose fist under his
palm. "If you believe you must let Richard be in this, then you will stay?
Help teach the gifted here what they must know?"
Every face was etched with concern as they watched him, hanging on what
he might decide. The general idly stroked a finger down the white scar on
the side of his face. Sister Philippa knitted her fingers together. Verna
and Warren entwined theirs.
Zedd smiled and hugged Adie's shoulders. "Of course I'm not going to
abandon you."
The three on the bench opposite him each let out a little sigh. Their
posture relaxed as if ropes around their necks had been slackened.
Zedd passed a hard look among them all. "War is nasty business. It's
about killing people before they can kill you. Magic in war is simply
another weapon, if a frightening one. You must realize that it, too, in
this, must be used for the end result of killing people."
"What do we need to do?" Verna asked, clearly relieved that he had
agreed to stay, but not to the obvious extent of General Reibisch, Warren,
or Sister Philippa.
Zedd pulled some of his robes from each side of his legs over into the
middle, between them, as he gave the question some thought. It was not the
sort of lesson he relished.
"Tomorrow morning, we will begin. There is much to learn about
countering magic in warfare. I will teach all the gifted some things about
the awful business of using what you always hoped to use for good, for harm,
instead. The lessons are not pleasing to endure, but then, neither is the
alternative."
The thought of such lessons, and worse, the use of such knowledge,
could not be pleasant for any of them to contemplate. Adie, who knew a
little bit about the horrific nature of such struggle, rubbed his back in
sympathy. His heavy robes stuck to his skin. He wished he had his simple
wizard's robes back.
"We will all do as we must to prevent our own people from falling to
the monstrous magic of the Imperial Order," Verna said. "You have my word as
Prelate."
Zedd nodded. "Tomorrow, then, we begin."
"I fear to think of magic added to warfare," General Reibisch said as
he stood.
Zedd shrugged. "To tell the truth, the ultimate object of magic in
warfare is to counter the enemy's magic. If we do our job properly, we will
bring balance to this. That would mean that all magic would be nullified and
the soldiers would then be able to fight without magic swaying the battle.
You will be able to be the steel against steel, while we are the magic
against magic."
"You mean, your magic won't be of direct help to us?"
Zedd shrugged. "We will try to use magic to visit harm on them in any
way we can, but when we try to use magic as a weapon, the enemy will try to
counter ours. Any attempt to use their power against us, we will try to
counter. The result of magic in warfare, if properly and expertly done, is
that it seems as if magic did not exist at all.
"If we fail to rise to the challenge, then the power they throw at us
will be truly horrific to witness. If we can best them, then you will see
such destruction of their forces as you can't imagine. But, in my
experience, magic has a way of balancing, so that you rarely see such
events."
"A deadlock, then, is our goal?" Sister Philippa asked.
Zedd turned his palms up, moving his hands up and down in opposition,
as if they were scales holding great weight. "The gifted on both sides will
be working harder than they have ever worked before. I can tell you that
it's exhausting. The result, except with small shifts in the advantage, is
that it will seem as if we are d doing nothing to earn our dinner."
Zedd let his hands drop. "It will be punctuated with brief moments of
sheer horror and true panic when it seems beyond doubt that the world itself
is about to end in one final fit of sheer madness."
General Reibisch grinned in an odd, gentle, knowing way. "Let me tell
you, war, when you're holding a sword, looks about the same way." He held up
a hand in
mock defense. "But I'd rather that, I guess, than have to swing my
sword at every magic mosquito that came along. I'm a man of steel against
steel. We have Lord Rahl to be the magic against the magic. I'm relieved we
have Lord Rahl's grandfather, the First Wizard, to aid us, too. Thank you,
Zedd. Anything you need is yours. Just ask."
Verna and Warren added silent nods as the general stepped to the
entrance of the tent. When Zedd spoke, General Reibisch turned back,
gripping the flap in one hand.
"You're still sending messengers to Richard?"
The general confirmed that they were. "Captain Meiffert was up there,
too. He might be able tell you more about Lord Rahl."
"Have all of the messengers returned safely?"
"Most of them." He rubbed his bearded chin. "We've lost two, so far.
One messenger was found by chance at the bottom of a rockslide. Another
never returned, but his body wasn't found-which wouldn't be unusual. It's a
long and difficult journey. There are any number of hazards on such a
journey; we have to expect we might lose a few men."
"I'd like you to stop sending men up there to Richard."
"But Lord Rahl needs to be kept informed."
"What if the enemy should capture one of those messengers and find out
where Richard is? If you have no scruples, most any man can eventually be
made to talk. The risk is not worth it."
The general rubbed his palm on the hilt of his sword as he considered
Zedd's words. "The Order is far to the south of us-way down in Anderith. We
control all the land between here and the mountains where Lord Rahl is
staying." He shook his head in resignation at Zedd's unflinching gaze. "But
if you think it's a concern, I'll not send another. Won't Lord Rahl wonder,
though, what's going on with us?"
"What's going on with us is not really relevant to him right now; he is
doing as he must do, and he can't allow our situation to influence him. He
has told you already that he won't be able to give you any orders, that he
must stay out of it."
Zedd tugged his sleeves straight and sighed as he thought about it.
"Perhaps when the summer is over, before the full grip of winter descends
and they're snowed in way up there, I'll go and see how they fare."
General Reibisch gave a departing smile. "If you could talk to Lord
Rahl, it would be a relief for us all, Zedd; he would trust your word. Good
night, then."
The man had just betrayed his true feelings. No one in the tent really
trusted what Richard was doing, except, perhaps, Zedd, and Zedd had his
doubts, too. Kahlan had said that she believed Richard viewed himself as a
fallen leader; these people who claimed not to understand how he could
believe such a thing, at the same time didn't trust his actions.
Richard was all alone with only the strength of his beliefs to support
him.
After the general had gone, Warren leaned forward eagerly. "Zedd, I
could go with you to see Richard. We could get him to tell us everything,
and we could then determine if it really is a prophecy, or as he says, just
an understanding he's come to. If it's not really a prophecy, we might be
able to make him see things differently.
"More important, we could begin teaching him-or you could, anyway-about
his gift, about using magic. He needs to know how to use his ability."
As Zedd paced, Verna let out a little grunt to express her misgivings
about Warren's suggestion. "I tried to teach Richard to touch his Han. A
number of Sisters attempted it, too. No one was able to make any progress."
"But Zedd believes a wizard is the one to do it. Isn't that right,
Zedd?"
Zedd halted his pacing and regarded them both a moment as he considered
how to put his thoughts into words. "Well, as I said before, teaching a
wizard is not really the work for sorceresses, but another wizard-"
"With Richard, I don't think you would have any better luck than we
did," Verna railed.
Warren didn't give ground. "But Zedd believes-
Zedd cleared his throat, bidding silence. "You're right, my boy; it is
the job of a wizard to teach another wizard born with the gift." Verna rose
an angry finger to object, but Zedd went right on. "In this case, however, I
believe Verna is right."
"She is?" Warren asked.
"I am?" Verna asked.
Zedd waved in a mollifying gesture. "Yes, I believe so, Verna. I think
the Sisters can do some teaching. After all, look at Warren, here. The
Sisters have managed to teach him something about using his gift, even if it
was at the cost of time. You've taught others-if in a limited way, to my
view of it-but you couldn't manage to teach Richard the most simple of
things. Is that correct?"
Verna's mouth twisted with displeasure. "None of us could teach him the
simple task of sensing his own Han. I sat with him hours at a time and tried
to guide him through it." She folded her arms and looked away from his
intent gaze. "It just didn't work the way it should have."
Warren touched a finger to his chin while he frowned, as if recalling
something. "You know, Nathan said something to me once. I told him that I
wanted to leam from him-that I wanted him to teach me about being a prophet.
Nathan said that a prophet could not be made, but that they were born. I
realized, then, that everything I knew and understood about prophecy-really
understood about it, in a whole new way-I had learned on my own, and not
from anyone else. Could this, with Richard, be something like that? Is that
your point, Zedd?"
"It is." Zedd sat down once more on the hard wooden bench beside Adie.
"I would love, not only as his grandfather, but as First Wizard, to teach
Richard what he needs to know about using his ability, but I'm coming to
doubt that such a thing is possible. Richard is different from any other
wizard in more ways than just his having the gift for Subtractive Magic in
addition to the usual Additive."
"But still," Sister Philippa said, "you are First Wizard. Surely, you
would be able to teach him a great deal."
Zedd pulled a fold of his heavy robes from between his bony bottom and
the hard bench as he considered how to explain it.
"Richard has done things even I don't understand. Without my training,
he has accomplished more than I can even fathom. On his own, Richard reached
the Temple of the Winds in the underworld, accomplished the task of stopping
a plague, and returned from beyond the veil to the world of life. Can any of
you even grasp such a thing? Especially for an untrained wizard? He banished
the chimes from the world of the living-how, I have no idea. He has worked
magic I've never heard of, much less seen or understand.
"I'm afraid my knowledge could be more of an interference than an aid.
Part of Richard's ability, and advantage, is the way he views the
world-through not just fresh eyes, but the eyes of a Seeker of Truth. He
doesn't know something is impossible, so he tries to accomplish it. I fear
to tell him how to do things, how to use his magic, because such teaching
also might suggest to him limits of his powers, thus
creating them in reality. What could I teach a war wizard? I know
nothing about the Subtractive side of magic, much less the gift of such
power."
"Lacking another war wizard with Subtractive Magic, are you suggesting
it would maybe take a Sister of the Dark to teach him?" Warren asked.
"Well," Zedd mused, "that might be a thought." He let out a tired sigh
as he turned more serious. "I have come to realize that it would not only be
useless to try to teach Richard to use his ability, but it may even be
dangerous-to the world.
"I would like to go see him, and offer him my encouragement,
experience, and understanding, but help?" Zedd shook his head. "I don't
dare."
No one offered any objection. Verna, for one, had firsthand experience
that very likely confirmed the truth of his words. The rest of them probably
knew Richard well enough to understand much the same.
"May I help you find a spare tent, Zedd?" Verna finally asked. "You
look like you could use some rest. In the morning, after you get a good
night's rest, and we all think this over, we can talk more."
Warren, who had just been about to ask another question before Verna
spoke first, looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement.
Zedd stretched his legs out straight as he yawned. "That would be
the fire had been hardened against shields, so instead of fizzling, it
stayed viable. That, of course, enabled the curved shield to roll the fire
back without it extinguishing. And, of course, being hardened to shields,
the wizard's own quickly thrown up defensive shields couldn't stop his own
fire's return."
"But he could just cut it oft!" Warren was becoming panicked, as if
seeing his own wizard's fire coming back at him. "The wizard who created it
could call it and cut it off."
"Could he?" Zedd smiled. "He thought so, too, but he hadn't been
prepared for the peculiar nature of the enemy's shield. Don't you see? It
not only rolled the fire back, but in so doing rolled around the fire as it
went, protecting it from any alteration by magic."
"Of course . . ." Warren whispered to himself.
"The shield was also sprinkled with a provenance-seeking spell, so it
rolled the fire back toward the wizard who conjured it. He died by his own
fire-after it had seared through hundreds of his own men on its way to him."
Silence settled into the tent. Even the general, still holding out the
albino mosquito, sat transfixed.
"You see," Zedd finally went on, tossing his fork down onto his plate,
"using the gift in war is not simply an act of exercising your power, but an
act of using your wits."
Zedd pointed. "For example, consider that albino mosquito General
Reibisch is holding. Under cover of darkness, just like right now, tens of
thousands of them, conjured by the enemy, could be sneaking into this camp
to infect your men with fever, and no one would even realize they were under
attack. Then, in the morning, the enemy strikes a camp of weak and sick
soldiers and slaughters the lot of you."
Sister Philippa, over on the other side of Adie, swished her hand in
alarm at a tiny buzzing mosquito. "But, the gifted we have could counter
such a thing." It was more a plea than an argument.
"Really? It's difficult to detect such an infinitesimal bit of magic.
None of you detected these minuscule invaders, did you?"
"Well, no, but . . ."
Zedd fixed a fierce glare on Sister Philippa. "It's night. In the
night, they simply seem to be ordinary mosquitoes, pesky, but no different
from any other. Why, the general here didn't notice them. Neither did any of
you gifted people. You can't detect the fever they carry, either, because
it, too, is such a tiny speck of magic you aren't watching for it-you're
looking for something huge and powerful and fearsome.
"Most of the gifted Sisters will be bitten in their sleep, without ever
knowing it happened, until they awake in the pitch blackness with the
shivering chills of a frightful fever, only to discover the first truly
debilitating symptom of this particular fever: blindness. You see, it isn't
the blackness of night they awake to-dawn has already broken-but blindness.
Then they find that their legs won't obey their wishes. Their ears are
ringing with what sounds like an endless, tingling scream."
The general's gaze darted about, testing his eyesight as Zedd went on.
He. twisted a big finger in an ear as if to clean it out.
"By now, anyone bitten is too weak to stand. They lose control of their
bodily functions and lie helpless in their own filth. They are within hours
of death . . . but those last hours will seem like a year."
"How do we counter it?" On the edge of his seat, Warren licked his
lips. "What's the cure?"
"Cure? There is no cure! Now a fog is beginning to creep toward the
camp. This time, the few gifted left can sense that the wide mass of
seething murk is foul with dark, suffocating magic. They warn everyone.
Those too sick to stand wail in terror. They can't see, but they can hear
the distant battle cries of the advancing enemy. In a panic not to be
touched by the deadly fog, anyone able to rise from their bedrolls does so.
Too delirious to stand, a few manage to crawl. The rest run for their lives
before the advancing fog.
"It's the last mistake they ever make," Zedd whispered. He swept a hand
out before their white faces. "They run headlong into the horror of a
waiting death trap. "
Everyone was wide-eyed and slack-jawed by now, sitting on the edge of
their benches.
"So, General," Zedd said in a bright, cheery tone as he sat back, "what
about those mass graves? Or are you planning on any of you left alive just
abandoning the sick for dead and leaving the bodies to rot? Probably not a
bad idea. There will be enough to worry about without the burdensome task of
trying to care for the dying and burying all the dead-especially since the
very act of touching their white flesh will contaminate the living with a
completely unexpected sickness, and then-"
Verna shot to her feet. "But what can we do!" She could plainly see the
potential for chaos all around her. "How can we counter such vile magic?"
She threw open her arms. "What do we need to do?"
Zedd shrugged. "I thought you and your Sisters had it all figured out.
I thought you knew what you were doing." He waggled his hand over his
shoulder, gesturing off to the south, toward the enemy. "I thought you said
you had the situation well in hand."
Verna silently sank back down to the bench beside Warren.
"Uh, Zedd . . ." General Reibisch swallowed in distress. He held out
the mosquito. "Zedd, I think I'm starting to feel dizzy. Isn't there
anything you can do?"
"About what?"
"The fever. I think my vision is getting dimmer. Can you do nothing?"
"No, nothing."
"Nothing."
"Nothing, because there's nothing wrong with you. I just conjured a few
albino mosquitoes to make a point. The point is that what I saw when I came
into this camp scared the wits out of me. If the gifted among the enemy are
at all diabolical,
and with Jagang we have ample reason to believe they are, then this
army is ill prepared for the true nature of the threat."
Sister Philippa haltingly lifted a hand like a schoolgirl with a
question. "But, with all the gifted among us, surely, we would . . . know .
. . or something."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you: the way things are now, you won't
know. It's the things you never heard of, haven't seen before, don't expect,
and can't even imagine, that are going to be coming for you. The enemy will
use conventional magic, to be sure, and that will be trouble enough, but
it's the albino mosquitoes you must fear."
"As you said, though, you only conjured them to make a point," Warren
said. "Maybe the enemy isn't as smart as you, and won't think of such
things."
"The Order did not take over all of the Old World by being stupid but
by being ruthless." Zedd's brow drew lower. He lifted a finger skyward to
mark his words. "Besides, they have already thought of just such things.
This past spring, one of the Sisters in the hands of the enemy used magic to
unleash a deadly plague that could not be detected by anyone with the gift.
Tens of thousands of people, from newborn infants to the old, suffered
gruesome deaths."
Those Sisters, in the hands of the enemy, were a grave and ever-present
danger. Ann had gone off alone on a mission to either rescue those Sisters
or eliminate them. From what Zedd had seen when he had been down in
Anderith, Ann had failed in her mission. He didn't know what had become of
her, but he knew that Jagang still held Sisters captive.
"But we stopped the plague," Warren said.
"Richard stopped it, as only he could." Zedd held the gaze of the young
wizard. "Did you know that in order to save us from that grim fate, he had
to venture to the Temple of the Winds, hidden away beyond the veil of life
in the underworld itself? Neither you nor I can imagine the toll such an
experience must have taken on him. I saw a shadow of the specter in his eyes
when he spoke of it.
"I can't even hazard a guess as to how trifling a chance at success he
had when he started on so hopeless a journey. Had he not prevailed against
all odds, we would all be dead by now from an unseen death brought on by
magic we could not detect and could not counter. I'd not want to again count
on such an auspicious deliverance."
No one could disagree with him; they nodded slightly, or looked away.
The tent had become a gloomy place.
Verna rubbed her fingers across her brow. "Pride is of no use to the
dead. I admit it: those gifted among us have little knowledge of what we're
doing when it comes to using our gift in warfare. We know some things about
fighting, perhaps even a great many things, but I admit we could be woefully
lacking in the depth of knowledge needed.
"Think us fools if you will, but don't ever think us at odds with you,
Zedd; we are all here on the same side." Her brown eyes betrayed nothing but
simple sincerity. "We not only could use your help, we would gratefully
welcome it."
"Of course he will help us," Adie scoffed while giving Zedd a scolding
frown.
"Well, you have a good start. Admitting that you don't know something
is the first step to learning." Zedd scratched his chin. "Every day, I amaze
myself with all I don't know."
"That would be wonderful," Warren said. "If you would help us, I mean."
He
sounded hesitant, but forged ahead anyway. "I would really like to have
the benefit of a real wizard's experience."
Despondent with the weight of his other troubles, Zedd shook his head.
"I would like to-and to be sure I will give you all some advice in the task
at hand. However, I've been on a long and frustrating journey, and I'm
afraid I'm not yet finished with it. I can't stay. I must soon be off
again."
Warren swiped back his curly blond hair. "What sort of journey have you
been on, Zedd?"
Zedd pointed a bony finger. "You don't need to keep that flattened
mosquito, General."
General Reibisch realized it was still between his finger and thumb. He
tossed it away. Everyone awaited Zedd's words. He smoothed the heavy maroon
robes over his twiglike thighs as his gaze absently studied the dirt floor.
He let out a crestfallen sigh. "I was recovering from my own auspicious
deliverance from grappling with remarkable magic I'd never before
encountered, and, as I regained my senses, spent months searching. I was
down in Anderith, and saw some of what happened after the Order swept in
there. It was a dark time for the people. Not only from the rampaging
soldiers, but also from one of your Sisters, Verna. Death's Mistress they
called her."
"Do you know which one it is?" Verna asked in a bitter voice at hearing
of a Sister causing harm.
"No. I only saw her once, from a goodly distance. Had I been fully
recovered, I might have tried to remedy the situation, but I wasn't myself
yet and dared not confront her. She also had a few thousand soldiers with
her. The sight of all the soldiers, led by a woman they had heard of and
feared, had people in a panic. The Sister was young, with blond hair. She
wore a black dress."
"Dear Creator," Verna whispered. "Not one of mine-one of the Keeper's.
There are few women born with the strength of power such as she has. She
also has power acquired by nefarious means; Nicci is a Sister of the Dark."
"I've gotten reports," General Reibisch said. By his grim tone, Zedd
knew the reports must have had it right. "I've heard, too, that it's quieted
considerably."
Zedd nodded. "The Order was at first brutal, but now 'Jagang the
Just'-as they have taken to calling him-has spared them further harm. In
most places, other than the capital of Fairfield where the most killing took
place, people have turned to supporting him as a liberator come to deliver
them into a better life. They're reporting neighbors, or travelers-whoever
they suspect is not an adherent to the noble ideals of the Order.
"I was all through Anderith, and spent a good deal of time behind the
enemy lines searching-without success. I then journeyed up into the wilds
and north to a number of towns, and even a few cities, but I can find no
sign of them. I guess my abilities were a long time in recovering; I only a
short time ago discovered where you all were. I have to commend you,
General, you've kept the presence of your forces well hidden-took me forever
to find your army. The boy, though, seems to have vanished without a trace."
Zedd's fists tightened in his lap. "I must find him."
"You mean Richard?" Adie asked. "You be searching for your grandson?"
"Yes. For Richard and Kahlan, both." Zedd lifted his hands in a
helpless gesture. "However, without any success, I must admit. I've talked
to no one who has seen even a sign of them. I've used every skill I possess,
but to no avail. If I didn't know better, I'd say they no longer existed."
Looks passed among everyone else. Zedd peered from one surprised face
to another. For the first time in months, Zedd's hopes rose. "What? What is
it? You know something?"
Verna gestured under the bench. "Show him, General."
At her urging, the general lifted out a map roll. He pulled it wide in
his callused hands and laid it on the ground at his feet. The map was turned
around so Zedd could read it. General Reibisch tapped the mountains to the
west of Hartland.
"Right here, Zedd."
"Right there . . . what?"
"Richard and Kahlan," Verna said.
Zedd gaped at her face and then down at the map. General Reibisch's
finger hovered over a wild range of peaks. Zedd knew those mountains. They
were an inhospitable place.
"There? Dear spirits, why would Richard and Kahlan be all the way up
there in such a forbidding place? What are they doing there?"
"Kahlan be hurt," Adie said in a consoling tone. ',
"Hurt?"
"She was at the brink of passing into the spirit world. From what we be
told, maybe she saw the world on the other side of the veil." Adie pointed
to the map, "Richard took her there to recover."
"But . . . why would he do that?" With a hand, Zedd flattened his wavy
white hair to the top of his head. His thoughts spun in a confusing jumble
while he tried to take it all in at once. "She could be healed-"
"No. She be spelled. If magic be used to try to heal her, a vile hidden
spell would be unleashed and she would die."
Understanding washed over him. "Dear spirits . . . I'm thankful the boy
knew it in time." Before the horror of memories of the screams could come
roaring to the fore of his thoughts, Zedd slammed a mental door on them. He
swallowed with the pain of those that slipped through. "But still, why would
he go there? He's needed here."
"He certainly is," Verna snapped. By her tone, it was a sore subject.
"He can't come here," Warren said. When Zedd only stared at him, he
explained further. "We don't understand it all, but we believe Richard is
following a prophecy of some sort."
"Prophecy!" Zedd dismissed it with a wave. "Richard doesn't take to
riddles, He hates them and won't pay heed to them. There are times when I
wish he would but he won't."
"Well, this one he's paying heed to." Warren pressed his lips tight for
a moment. "It's his own."
"His own . . . what?"
Warren cleared his throat. "Prophecy."
Zedd jumped to his feet. "What! Richard? Nonsense."
"He's a war wizard," Verna said with quiet authority.
Zedd passed a scowl among all the suddenly circumspect expressions. He
made a sour face and, with a flourish of his robes, returned to his seat
beside Adie.
"What is this prophecy?"
Warren twisted a little knot of his violet robes. "He didn't say,
exactly."
"Here." General Reibisch pulled some folded papers from a pocket. "He
wrote me letters. We've all read them."
Zedd stood and snatched the letters from the general's big fist. He
went to the table and smoothed out the pages. As everyone else sat silently
watching, Zedd leaned over the table and read Richard's words lying before
him.
With great authority, Richard paradoxically turned away from authority.
He said that after much reflection, he had come to an understanding that
arrived with the power of a vision, and he knew then, beyond doubt, that his
help would only bring about certain catastrophe.
In letters that followed, Richard said he and Kahlan were safe and she
was slowly recovering. Cara was with them. In response to letters General
Reibisch and others had written, Richard remained steadfast in his stand. He
warned them that the cause of freedom would be forever lost if he failed to
remain on his true path. He said that whatever decisions General Reibisch
and the rest of them made, he would not contradict or criticize. He told
them that his heart was with them, but they were on their own for the
foreseeable future. He said possibly forever.
His letters basically gave no real information, other than alluding to
his understanding or vision, and making it clear that they could expect no
guidance from him. Nonetheless, Zedd could read some of what the words
didn't say.
Zedd stared at the letters long after he had finished reading them. The
flame of the lamp wavered slowly from side to side, occasionally fluttering
and sending up a coiled thread of oily smoke. He could hear muffled voices
outside the tent as soldiers on patrol quietly passed along information.
Inside, everyone remained silent. They had all read the letters.
Verna's expression was tight with anxiety. She could hold her tongue no
longer. "Will you go to see him, Zedd? Convince him to return to the
struggle?"
Zedd lightly trailed his fingers over the words on paper. "I can't.
This is one time I can be of no help to him."
"But he's our leader in this struggle." The soft lamplight illuminated
the feminine grace of her slender fingers as she pressed them to her brow in
vain solace. Her hand fell back to her lap. "Without him . . ."
Zedd didn't answer her. He could not imagine what Ann's reaction to
such a development would be. For centuries she had combed through prophecies
in anticipation of the war wizard who would be born to lead them in this
battle for the very existence of magic. Richard was that war wizard, born to
the battle he had suddenly abandoned.
"What do you think be the problem?" Adie asked in her quiet, raspy
voice.
Zedd looked back to the letters one last time. He pulled his gaze from
the words and straightened. All eyes around the dimly lit tent were on him
as if hoping he could somehow rescue them from a fate they couldn't
comprehend, but instinctively dreaded.
"This is a time of trial to the depth of Richard's soul." Zedd slipped
his hands up opposite sleeves until the silver brocade at the cuffs met. "A
passage, of sortsthrust upon him because of his comprehension of something
only he sees."
Warren cleared his throat. "What sort of trial, Zedd? Can you tell us?"
Zedd gestured vaguely as memories of terrible times flashed through his
mind. "A struggle . . . a reconciliation . . ."
"What sort of reconciliation?" Warren pressed.
Zedd gazed into the young man's blue eyes, wishing he wouldn't ask so
many questions. "What is the purpose of your gift?"
"Its purpose? Well, I ability."
"It is to help others," Verna stated flatly. She clutched her light
blue cloak more tightly around her shoulders as if it were armor to defend
her from whatever Zedd might throw at her in answer.
"Ah. Then what are you doing here?"
The question caught her by surprise. "Here?"
"Yes." Zedd waved his arm, indicating a vague, distant place. "If the
gift is to help others, then why are you not out there doing it? There are
sick needing to be healed, ignorant needing to be taught, and the hungry
needing to be fed. Why are you just sitting there, healthy, smart, and well
fed?"
Verna rearranged her cloak as she squared her shoulders into a posture
of firm resolve. "In battle, if you abandon the gates to help a fallen
comrade, you have given in to a weakness: your inability to steel yourself
to an immediate suffering in order to prevent suffering on a much greater
scale. If I run off to help the few people I could in that manner, I must
leave my post here, with this army, as they try to keep the enemy from
storming the gateway into the New World."
Zedd's estimation of the woman rose a little. She had come
tantalizingly close to expressing the essence of a vital truth. He offered
her a small smile of respect as he nodded. She looked more surprised by that
than she had by his question.
"I can certainly see why the Sisters of the Light are widely regarded
as proper servants of need." Zedd stroked his chin. "So then, it is your
conviction that we with the ability-the gift-are born into the world to be
slaves to those with needs?"
"Well, no . . . but if there is a great need-"
"Then we are more tightly bound in the chains of slavery to those with
every greater need," Zedd finished for her. "Thus, anyone with a need, by
right-to your mind-becomes our master? Indentured servant to one cause, or
to any greater cause that might come along, but chattel all the same. Yes?"
This time, Verna chose not to dance with him over what she apparently
regarded as a patch of quicksand. It didn't prevent her from glaring at him,
though.
Zedd held that there could be only one philosophically valid answer to
the question; if Verna knew it, she didn't offer it.
"Richard has apparently come to a place where he must critically
examine his alternatives and determine the proper course of his life," Zedd
explained. "Perhaps circumstances have caused him to question the proper use
of his abilities, and, in view of his values, his true purpose."
Verna opened her hands in a helpless gesture. "1 don't see how he could
have any higher purpose than to be here, helping the army against the threat
to the New World-the threat to the lives of free people."
Zedd sank back down onto the bench. "You do not see, and I do not see,
but Richard sees something."
"That doesn't mean he's right," Warren said.
Zedd studied the young man's face for a moment. Warren had fresh
features, but
. guess to . . . well, it just is. The gift is simply an
also a knowing look in his eyes that betrayed something beyond mere
youth. Zedd wondered how old Warren was.
"No, it does not mean Richard is right. He may be making a heroic
mistake that destroys our chance to survive."
"Kahlan thinks maybe it be a mistake," Adie finally put in, as if
regretting having to tell him. "She wrote a note to me-I believe without
Richard's knowledge, seeing as Cara wrote down Kahlan's words for her-and
gave it to the messenger. Kahlan says that she fears Richard be doing this
in part because of what happened to her. The Mother Confessor also confided
that she be afraid Richard has lost his faith in people, and, because of his
rejection by the people of Anderith, Richard may view himself as a fallen
leader."
"Bah." Zedd waved his hand dismissively. "A leader cannot follow behind
people, tail between his legs, sniffing for their momentary whims and
wishes, whining to follow them this way and that as they ramble through
life. Those kind of people are not looking for a leader-they are looking for
a master, and one will find them.
"A true leader forges a clear path through a moral wilderness so that
people might see the way. Richard was a woods guide because such is his
nature. Perhaps he is lost in that dark wood. If he is, he must find his way
out, and it must be a correctly reasoned course, if he is to be the true
leader of a free people."
Everyone silently considered the implications. The general was a man
who followed the Lord Rahl, and simply awaited his orders. The Sisters had
their own ideas. Zedd and Adie knew the way ahead was not what it might seem
to some.
"That's what Richard did for me," Warren said in a soft voice, staring
off into memories of his own. "He showed me the way-made me want to follow
him up out of the vaults. I had become comfortable down there, content with
my books and my fate, but I was a prisoner of that darkness, living my life
through the struggles and accomplishments of others. I never could
understand precisely how he inspired me to want to follow him up and out."
Warren looked up into Zedd's eyes. "Maybe he needs that same kind of help,
himself. Can you help him, Zedd?"
"He has entered a dark time for any man, and especially for a wizard.
He must come out the other side of this on his own. If I take him by the
hand and lead him through, so to speak, I might take him a way he would not
have selected on his own, and then he would forever be crippled by what I
had chosen for him .
. . . But worse yet, what if he's right? If I unwittingly forced him to
another course, it could doom us all and result in a world enslaved by the
Imperial Order." Zedd shook his head. "No. This much I know: Richard must be
left alone to do as he must. If he truly is the one to lead us in this
battle for the future of magic and of mankind, then this can only be part of
his journey as it must be traveled."
Almost everyone nodded, if reluctantly, at Zedd's words.
Warren didn't nod. He picked at the fabric of his violet robes.
"There's one thing we haven't considered." As everyone waited, his blue eyes
turned up to meet Zedd's gaze. In those eyes, Zedd saw an uncommon wisdom
that told him that this was a young man who could gaze into the depths of
things when most people saw only the sparkles on the surface.
"It could be," Warren said in a quiet but unflinching voice, "that
Richard, being gifted, and being a war wizard, has been visited by a
legitimate prophecy. War wizards are different from the rest of us. Their
ability is not narrowly specific, but broad. Prophecy is, at least
theoretically, within his purview. Moreover, Richard has Subtractive Magic
as well as Additive. No wizard born in the last three thousand
years has had both sides. While we can perhaps imagine, we could not
possibly begin to understand his potential, though the prophecies have
alluded to it.
"It could very well be that Richard has had a valid prophecy that he
clearly understands. If so, then he may be doing precisely what must be
done. It could even be that he clearly understands the prophecy and it is so
gruesome he is doing us the only kindness he can-by not telling us."
Verna covered his hand with hers. "You don't really believe that, do
you, Warren?" Zedd noticed that Verna put a lot of stock in what Warren
said.
Ann had told Zedd that Warren was only beginning to exhibit his gift of
prophecy. Such wizards-prophets-were so rare that they came along only once
or twice a millennium. The potential importance of such a wizard was
incalculable. Zedd didn't know how far along that path Warren really was,
yet. Warren probably didn't, either.
"Prophecy can be a terrible burden." Warren smoothed his robes along
his thigh. "Perhaps Richard's prophecy told him that if he is to ever have a
chance to oversee victory, he must not die with the rest of us in our
struggle against the army of the Imperial Order."
General Reibisch, silent about such wizardly doings, had nevertheless
been listening and watching intently. Sister Philippa's thumb twiddled a
button on her dress. Even with Verna's comforting hand on his, Warren, at
that moment, looked nothing but forlorn.
"Warren"-Zedd waited until their eyes met-"we all at times envision the
most fearful turn of events, simply because it's the most frightening thing
we can imagine. Don't invest your thoughts primarily in that which is not
the most likely reason for Richard's actions, simply because it is the
reason you fear the most. I believe Richard is struggling to understand his
place in all this. Remember, he grew up as a woods guide. He has to come to
terms not only with his ability, but with the weight of rule."
"Yes, but-"
Zedd lifted a finger for emphasis. "The truth of a situation most often
turns out to be that one with the simplest explanation."
The gloom on Warren's face finally melted away under the dawning
radiance of a luminous smile. "I'd forgotten that ancient bit of wisdom.
Thank you, Zedd."
General Reibisch, combing his curly beard with his fingers, pulled the
hand free and made a fist. "Besides, D'Harans will not be so easily bested.
We have more forces to call upon, and we have allies here in the Midlands
who will come to aid in the fight. We have all heard the reports of the size
of the Order, but they are just men, not evil spirits. They have gifted, but
so do we. They have yet to come faceto-face with the might of D'Haran
soldiers."
Warren picked up a small rock, not quite the size of his fist, and held
it in his palm as he spoke. "I mean no disrespect, General, and I do not
mean to dissuade you from our just cause, but the subject of the Order has
been a pastime of mine. I've studied them for years. I'm also from the Old
World."
"Fair enough. So what is it you have to tell us?"
"Well, say that the tabletop is the Old World-the area from which
Jagang draws his troops. Now, there are places, to be sure, where there are
few people spread over vast areas. But there are many places with great
populations, too."
"It's much the same in the New World," the general said. "D'Hara has
populous places, and desolate areas."
Warren shook his head. He passed his hand over the tabletop. "Say this
is the Old World-the whole of this table." He held up the rock to show the
general and then placed it on the edge of the tabletop. "This is the New
World. This is its size-this rock--compared to the Old World."
"But, but, that doesn't include D'Hara," General Reibisch sputtered.
"Surely . . . with D'Hara-"
"D'Hara is included in the rock."
"I'm afraid Warren is right," Verna said.
Sister Philippa, too, nodded grim acknowledgment. "Perhaps . . ." she
said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, "perhaps Warren is right,
and Richard has seen a vision of our defeat, and knows he must remain out of
it, or be lost with all the rest of us."
"I don't think that's it at all," Zedd offered in a gentle voice. "I
know Richard. If Richard thought we would lose, he would say so in order to
give people a chance to weigh that in their decisions."
The general cleared his throat. "Well, actually, one of the letters is
missing from that stack. It was the first-where Lord Rahl told me about his
vision. In it, Lord Rahl did say that we had no chance to win."
Zedd felt the blood drain down into his legs. He tried to keep his
manner unconcerned. "Oh? Where is the letter?"
The general gave Verna a sidelong glance.
"Well, actually," Verna said, "when I read it, I was angered and . . ."
"And she balled it up and threw it in the fire," Warren finished for
her.
Verna's face turned red, but she offered no defense. Zedd could
understand the sentiment, but he would have liked to have read it with his
own eyes. He forced a smile.
"Were those his actual words-that we had no chance to win?" Zedd asked,
trying not to sound alarmed. He could feel sweat running down the back of
his neck.
"No . . ." General Reibisch said as he shifted his shoulders inside his
uniform while giving the question careful thought. "No, Lord Rahl's words
were that we must not commit our forces to an attack directly against the
army of the Imperial Order, or our side will be destroyed and any chance for
winning in the future will be forever lost."
The feeling began to return to Zedd's fingers. He wiped a bead of sweat
from the side of his forehead. He was able to draw an easier breath. "Well,
that only makes sense. If they are as large a force as Warren says, then any
direct attack would be foolhardy."
It did make sense. Zedd wondered, though, why Richard would make such a
point of it to a man of General Reibisch's experience. Perhaps Richard was
only being cautious. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.
Adie slipped her hand under Zedd's and cuddled her loose fist under his
palm. "If you believe you must let Richard be in this, then you will stay?
Help teach the gifted here what they must know?"
Every face was etched with concern as they watched him, hanging on what
he might decide. The general idly stroked a finger down the white scar on
the side of his face. Sister Philippa knitted her fingers together. Verna
and Warren entwined theirs.
Zedd smiled and hugged Adie's shoulders. "Of course I'm not going to
abandon you."
The three on the bench opposite him each let out a little sigh. Their
posture relaxed as if ropes around their necks had been slackened.
Zedd passed a hard look among them all. "War is nasty business. It's
about killing people before they can kill you. Magic in war is simply
another weapon, if a frightening one. You must realize that it, too, in
this, must be used for the end result of killing people."
"What do we need to do?" Verna asked, clearly relieved that he had
agreed to stay, but not to the obvious extent of General Reibisch, Warren,
or Sister Philippa.
Zedd pulled some of his robes from each side of his legs over into the
middle, between them, as he gave the question some thought. It was not the
sort of lesson he relished.
"Tomorrow morning, we will begin. There is much to learn about
countering magic in warfare. I will teach all the gifted some things about
the awful business of using what you always hoped to use for good, for harm,
instead. The lessons are not pleasing to endure, but then, neither is the
alternative."
The thought of such lessons, and worse, the use of such knowledge,
could not be pleasant for any of them to contemplate. Adie, who knew a
little bit about the horrific nature of such struggle, rubbed his back in
sympathy. His heavy robes stuck to his skin. He wished he had his simple
wizard's robes back.
"We will all do as we must to prevent our own people from falling to
the monstrous magic of the Imperial Order," Verna said. "You have my word as
Prelate."
Zedd nodded. "Tomorrow, then, we begin."
"I fear to think of magic added to warfare," General Reibisch said as
he stood.
Zedd shrugged. "To tell the truth, the ultimate object of magic in
warfare is to counter the enemy's magic. If we do our job properly, we will
bring balance to this. That would mean that all magic would be nullified and
the soldiers would then be able to fight without magic swaying the battle.
You will be able to be the steel against steel, while we are the magic
against magic."
"You mean, your magic won't be of direct help to us?"
Zedd shrugged. "We will try to use magic to visit harm on them in any
way we can, but when we try to use magic as a weapon, the enemy will try to
counter ours. Any attempt to use their power against us, we will try to
counter. The result of magic in warfare, if properly and expertly done, is
that it seems as if magic did not exist at all.
"If we fail to rise to the challenge, then the power they throw at us
will be truly horrific to witness. If we can best them, then you will see
such destruction of their forces as you can't imagine. But, in my
experience, magic has a way of balancing, so that you rarely see such
events."
"A deadlock, then, is our goal?" Sister Philippa asked.
Zedd turned his palms up, moving his hands up and down in opposition,
as if they were scales holding great weight. "The gifted on both sides will
be working harder than they have ever worked before. I can tell you that
it's exhausting. The result, except with small shifts in the advantage, is
that it will seem as if we are d doing nothing to earn our dinner."
Zedd let his hands drop. "It will be punctuated with brief moments of
sheer horror and true panic when it seems beyond doubt that the world itself
is about to end in one final fit of sheer madness."
General Reibisch grinned in an odd, gentle, knowing way. "Let me tell
you, war, when you're holding a sword, looks about the same way." He held up
a hand in
mock defense. "But I'd rather that, I guess, than have to swing my
sword at every magic mosquito that came along. I'm a man of steel against
steel. We have Lord Rahl to be the magic against the magic. I'm relieved we
have Lord Rahl's grandfather, the First Wizard, to aid us, too. Thank you,
Zedd. Anything you need is yours. Just ask."
Verna and Warren added silent nods as the general stepped to the
entrance of the tent. When Zedd spoke, General Reibisch turned back,
gripping the flap in one hand.
"You're still sending messengers to Richard?"
The general confirmed that they were. "Captain Meiffert was up there,
too. He might be able tell you more about Lord Rahl."
"Have all of the messengers returned safely?"
"Most of them." He rubbed his bearded chin. "We've lost two, so far.
One messenger was found by chance at the bottom of a rockslide. Another
never returned, but his body wasn't found-which wouldn't be unusual. It's a
long and difficult journey. There are any number of hazards on such a
journey; we have to expect we might lose a few men."
"I'd like you to stop sending men up there to Richard."
"But Lord Rahl needs to be kept informed."
"What if the enemy should capture one of those messengers and find out
where Richard is? If you have no scruples, most any man can eventually be
made to talk. The risk is not worth it."
The general rubbed his palm on the hilt of his sword as he considered
Zedd's words. "The Order is far to the south of us-way down in Anderith. We
control all the land between here and the mountains where Lord Rahl is
staying." He shook his head in resignation at Zedd's unflinching gaze. "But
if you think it's a concern, I'll not send another. Won't Lord Rahl wonder,
though, what's going on with us?"
"What's going on with us is not really relevant to him right now; he is
doing as he must do, and he can't allow our situation to influence him. He
has told you already that he won't be able to give you any orders, that he
must stay out of it."
Zedd tugged his sleeves straight and sighed as he thought about it.
"Perhaps when the summer is over, before the full grip of winter descends
and they're snowed in way up there, I'll go and see how they fare."
General Reibisch gave a departing smile. "If you could talk to Lord
Rahl, it would be a relief for us all, Zedd; he would trust your word. Good
night, then."
The man had just betrayed his true feelings. No one in the tent really
trusted what Richard was doing, except, perhaps, Zedd, and Zedd had his
doubts, too. Kahlan had said that she believed Richard viewed himself as a
fallen leader; these people who claimed not to understand how he could
believe such a thing, at the same time didn't trust his actions.
Richard was all alone with only the strength of his beliefs to support
him.
After the general had gone, Warren leaned forward eagerly. "Zedd, I
could go with you to see Richard. We could get him to tell us everything,
and we could then determine if it really is a prophecy, or as he says, just
an understanding he's come to. If it's not really a prophecy, we might be
able to make him see things differently.
"More important, we could begin teaching him-or you could, anyway-about
his gift, about using magic. He needs to know how to use his ability."
As Zedd paced, Verna let out a little grunt to express her misgivings
about Warren's suggestion. "I tried to teach Richard to touch his Han. A
number of Sisters attempted it, too. No one was able to make any progress."
"But Zedd believes a wizard is the one to do it. Isn't that right,
Zedd?"
Zedd halted his pacing and regarded them both a moment as he considered
how to put his thoughts into words. "Well, as I said before, teaching a
wizard is not really the work for sorceresses, but another wizard-"
"With Richard, I don't think you would have any better luck than we
did," Verna railed.
Warren didn't give ground. "But Zedd believes-
Zedd cleared his throat, bidding silence. "You're right, my boy; it is
the job of a wizard to teach another wizard born with the gift." Verna rose
an angry finger to object, but Zedd went right on. "In this case, however, I
believe Verna is right."
"She is?" Warren asked.
"I am?" Verna asked.
Zedd waved in a mollifying gesture. "Yes, I believe so, Verna. I think
the Sisters can do some teaching. After all, look at Warren, here. The
Sisters have managed to teach him something about using his gift, even if it
was at the cost of time. You've taught others-if in a limited way, to my
view of it-but you couldn't manage to teach Richard the most simple of
things. Is that correct?"
Verna's mouth twisted with displeasure. "None of us could teach him the
simple task of sensing his own Han. I sat with him hours at a time and tried
to guide him through it." She folded her arms and looked away from his
intent gaze. "It just didn't work the way it should have."
Warren touched a finger to his chin while he frowned, as if recalling
something. "You know, Nathan said something to me once. I told him that I
wanted to leam from him-that I wanted him to teach me about being a prophet.
Nathan said that a prophet could not be made, but that they were born. I
realized, then, that everything I knew and understood about prophecy-really
understood about it, in a whole new way-I had learned on my own, and not
from anyone else. Could this, with Richard, be something like that? Is that
your point, Zedd?"
"It is." Zedd sat down once more on the hard wooden bench beside Adie.
"I would love, not only as his grandfather, but as First Wizard, to teach
Richard what he needs to know about using his ability, but I'm coming to
doubt that such a thing is possible. Richard is different from any other
wizard in more ways than just his having the gift for Subtractive Magic in
addition to the usual Additive."
"But still," Sister Philippa said, "you are First Wizard. Surely, you
would be able to teach him a great deal."
Zedd pulled a fold of his heavy robes from between his bony bottom and
the hard bench as he considered how to explain it.
"Richard has done things even I don't understand. Without my training,
he has accomplished more than I can even fathom. On his own, Richard reached
the Temple of the Winds in the underworld, accomplished the task of stopping
a plague, and returned from beyond the veil to the world of life. Can any of
you even grasp such a thing? Especially for an untrained wizard? He banished
the chimes from the world of the living-how, I have no idea. He has worked
magic I've never heard of, much less seen or understand.
"I'm afraid my knowledge could be more of an interference than an aid.
Part of Richard's ability, and advantage, is the way he views the
world-through not just fresh eyes, but the eyes of a Seeker of Truth. He
doesn't know something is impossible, so he tries to accomplish it. I fear
to tell him how to do things, how to use his magic, because such teaching
also might suggest to him limits of his powers, thus
creating them in reality. What could I teach a war wizard? I know
nothing about the Subtractive side of magic, much less the gift of such
power."
"Lacking another war wizard with Subtractive Magic, are you suggesting
it would maybe take a Sister of the Dark to teach him?" Warren asked.
"Well," Zedd mused, "that might be a thought." He let out a tired sigh
as he turned more serious. "I have come to realize that it would not only be
useless to try to teach Richard to use his ability, but it may even be
dangerous-to the world.
"I would like to go see him, and offer him my encouragement,
experience, and understanding, but help?" Zedd shook his head. "I don't
dare."
No one offered any objection. Verna, for one, had firsthand experience
that very likely confirmed the truth of his words. The rest of them probably
knew Richard well enough to understand much the same.
"May I help you find a spare tent, Zedd?" Verna finally asked. "You
look like you could use some rest. In the morning, after you get a good
night's rest, and we all think this over, we can talk more."
Warren, who had just been about to ask another question before Verna
spoke first, looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement.
Zedd stretched his legs out straight as he yawned. "That would be