from his fingers.
"Don't know. She's killed me. Must be one of yours."
Richard's fingers found the sword. They curled around the wire-wound
hilt.
Neal stepped on the blade. "Can't have any of that. You've caused
enough trouble."
A glow ignited around Neal's fingers. He was conjuring magic. Lethal
magic. Richard, in his barely conscious condition, despite his need, could
not focus his mind, could not call forth his own ability to do anything to
stop Neal. At least, the pain would end. At least, Kahlan wouldn't think it
was she who had killed him.
Richard heard a sudden, terrible, bone-snapping crack. Neal dropped
heavily to his knees.
Richard, his hand already around the hilt, pulled the sword from
underneath the man's legs and in one mighty lunge, ran it through Neal's
heart.
Neal looked up in surprise, his eyes glassy. Richard saw then that the
man was as good as dead before the blade had run him through. Neal's eyes
rolled back in his head and he slumped to the side as Richard yanked the
sword free.
Standing behind Neal was the woman Richard had helped. She had bandaged
her leg. In both hands, she held the marble hand of the woman Richard had
carved. She had crushed Neal's skull with her keepsake of the statue.


    CHAPTER 69



Richard heard footfalls splashing toward him down the wet hallway. The
woman had gone to find help. Maybe she had found it.
In the rooms and hallways in the distance, Richard could hear
occasional screams as blasts of magic exploded through the night, as people
were injured and killed.
A woman appeared in the moonlight. "Richard? Richard?"
Richard squinted in the darkness. "Who are you?" he managed to whisper.
She rushed to his side and fell to her knees. She gasped at seeing
Kahlan sprawled on the floor close to him.
"What happened to the Mother Confessor?"
Richard frowned. She knew Kahlan.
"Who are you?"
She looked back at him. "I'm a Sister. Sister Alessandra. I've been in
the city
for a while, looking for Nicci, and-never mind. A woman found me just
down
the hall-and said you were hurt. The man who carved the statue. I was
trying
desperately to get to you earlier, but I couldn't get near-there I go
again. Tell me
where you're hurt. I can try to heal you."
"I was run through with a sword."
She was still and silent for a moment.
"Under my hands."
She looked then, and spoke a prayer under her breath. "I think I can
help. I feared-"
"I need Nicci to do it."
Sister Alessandra glanced about. "Nicci? Where is she, then? I've been
searching for her. Ann sent me to find her."
Richard's eyes fell on the still form of Kahlan. "Can you help her?"
He could see the woman's eyes look away from his. "No; I can't. She's
linked by magic to Nicci. I met her before, and she told me about it. I can
do nothing through the shield of Nicci's link."
"Is she . . . is she still.. ."
The woman looked and then leaned back over him. "She's alive, Richard."
He closed his eyes in relief, and in pain.
"Lie still," she said.
"But I need Nicci to-"
"You're bleeding. This is bad, Richard. In a short time more, you will
have lost too much blood. If I wait, no one will be able to heal you. You
will have slipped too far beyond this world for any gift to help you. I
can't wait.
"Besides, I came to try to stop Nicci. I know her better than anyone.
You can't put your life in her hands. You can't put your faith in her."

"It's not faith. I know-"
"She's a Sister of the Dark. I'm the one who led her down that dark
road. I came to try to lead her back. Until and unless that time comes, you
can't trust her. Now, you've not much time. Do you want to live, or not?"
It had all gone for nothing. He felt a tear run from the corner of his
eye and across his cheek.
"I choose life," he said.
"I know," she whispered with a smile. "I saw the statue. Now, move your
hands for me. I need to have mine there."
Richard let his hands slip to his sides as hers covered his wound. He
felt helpless. He could focus on nothing but the searing pain.
He felt magic tingle into him, following the damage down deep inside
him. He clenched his teeth as he held in a cry.
"Hold on," she whispered. "This is bad. It will hurt, but then in a
while it will be all right."
"I understand," he said. He gasped sharply. "Do it, then."
The pain of her magic seared into him like white-hot coals thrown on
bare flesh. He almost cried out, but then the pain abruptly ceased. Richard
lay with his eyes closed, panting, waiting for it to start again. He felt
her hands slip from him.
Richard opened his eyes and saw that Sister Alessandra's eyes were
opened wide. For an instant, he wondered why.
And then he saw a foot of steel jutting from her chest. Her fingers
went to her throat as blood gushed from her open mouth. A silent scream
formed on her lips.
A bony hand shoved her aside.
She had been impaled on the sword Richard had used to fight Kahlan. His
hand blindly went for the hilt he knew was there, but a foot kicked the
Sword of Truth aside.
Death's own skull grinned down at him.
"You are a troublesome man, Richard Cypher," came the grating voice
from the darkness above. "But at last, that trouble is ended."
The tall angular figure in robes and a creased cap towered above him as
he lay helpless on the cold wet floor.
"This little rebellion of yours will be crushed, I can promise you that
much, before you die. Their foolish little tantrum will be brought to an
end. The people will soon come to their senses. Your kind appeals only to
the extremist fringe. Most people see their duty to their fellow man. Your
efforts have been for nothing."
Brother Narev swept his arm around, as if in introduction.
"An appropriate place for you to die, don't you think, Richard? These
rooms are the future questioning chambers. You eluded the chambers once, but
not this time. You will die in one as you should have died in one before.
"I, on the other hand, will live here a long, long time, and see the
Order bring morality to the world. Down here, in these chambers, radicals
like you will confess their wickedness. I just wanted you to know, before
you are embraced in the Keeper's cold arms for all eternity."
Brother Narev's skeletal hands clawed as he called forth his magic.
Richard saw white-hot light blossom around the high priest's hands and
expand downward. Richard squeezed Kahlan's hand as he watched the white
light of death come for him.
The bloom of light turned a honey color. As if the air had thickened,
the light slumped off to the sides.

A howl of fury grew in Narev's throat. His shook his fists in rage.
"You have the gift of a wizard! Who are you?"
"I am your worst nightmare. I am a thinking man who can't be deluded by
your lies, any more than I can be burned by your foul magic."
Brother Narev tried to smash his foot down on Richard's face, but
Richard was able to deflect the blow. He seized Narev's ankle. The man
caught his balance and pulled madly to get free. The effort of holding on
felt as if it ripped the wound through Richard's insides. He tried to hold
on, but his fingers slipped from the wet leather.
Once free, and out of Richard's reach, Narev bent and seized the hilt
of the sword lodged in the Sister's back. He tugged but it didn't come
completely out. He growled in fury, his boots slipping on the slimy floor,
as he yanked on the sword.
Richard knew that, once armed, Narev would be a swift executioner.
With all his strength, Richard lunged at the man's legs. Brother Narev
toppled back onto the wet floor. Richard, his middle wrenched in torture,
threw himself atop Narev's legs to hold him down. Bony fingers clawed at
Richard's face, trying to gouge his eyes. Richard turned his head away. With
fierce effort, he clutched at the heavy robes, dragging himself up the man's
body, ignoring the blows to his face as he did so.
He seized Brother Narev by the throat. Brother Narev's bony fingers
closed savagely around Richard's throat. Both men growled with the effort of
trying to strangle each other to death. Richard twisted his head, trying to
prevent Narev from getting a death grip, while at the same time trying to
get his own thumbs over Narev's windpipe so he could choke off his air.
Narev tried to roll, to throw Richard off. Richard spread his legs to
make it harder for Narev to flip him over, and held tight as the man twisted
and fought. He could feel his insides tearing.
Richard had wielded a chisel and hammer for the Order for months. He
was stronger, but he was also losing a lot of blood, and that strength was
fading. He squeezed with all his might. The fingers at his throat loosened a
little.
The man's eyes bulged as Richard finally managed to start to choke the
life out of him. Bony hands thumped at Richard's shoulders.
The hands suddenly and fiercely seized Richard by his hair.
Narev freed a leg and brought his knee up into Richard's wound.
The world went white with pain.
--]----
Nicci woke, dazed, to the sound of a low, wicked laugh. She knew the
voice. She knew the smell. Kadar Kardeef.
She heard a snapping, popping, hissing sound. A torch, she realized. He
whipped it around in front of her face, so close she could feel the terrible
heat against her flesh. Burning pitch dripped off, falling on her leg.
Nicci screamed in pain as the pitch burned into the flesh of her thigh.
"What goes around, comes around," Kadar said in her ear.
"I don't care what you do to me," Nicci cried in rage. "I'm glad I
burned you. I'm glad you've had to beg."
"Oh you'll be begging, too, before long. You may not think so, but
you'll be

surprised what fire makes a person do. You will yet know what it was
like. You will yet beg."
With all her might, Nicci struggled against him. She could undo the
spell, if only Kahlan were closer. So near, but so far.
The fire before her eyes sent terror scorching through her. She had
only to snip the cord linking her to Kahlan. She could break the link. She
didn't have to undo it in order to have her power back. Nicci could escape,
then. It would cost Kahlan her life, but Nicci would have her power, and she
could escape the flames.
But she would have to kill Kahlan to do it.
"Shall I bum your face, first, Nicci? Your lovely face? Or maybe I
should start with your legs. Which shall it be? You pick."
Nicci panted as she struggled, trying to back away from the heat on her
flesh. The hissing torch waved in front of her face. She knew she deserved
such a fate; but she was driven to wild panic by the fear of it.
She didn't want to snip the link, to kill Kahlan, but she didn't want
to die this way. She didn't want her flesh to burn.
"I say we start at the bottom, so we can hear your screams."
Kadar brought the torch down and touched it to the hem of her dress.
Nicci screamed as the black cloth caught flame. Such fear was a new
sensation for her; for the first time since she was very small, she had
something she cared about, and didn't want to lose: life.
In a moment of stark terror, Nicci knew that no matter how much it was
to hurt, no matter how frightening it was to be, she would not take Kahlan's
life. Richard had given her the answer she had sought. She had taken too
much already. In return for that lesson, she could not now violate it.
Even though Kahlan, linked to Nicci, was to suffer the same fate, would
die the same agonizing death, Nicci would not be the one who inflicted it.
She would not take Kahlan's life from her. Kadar would be bringing their
death, but Nicci would not. She would not kill Kahlan to save herself.
Kadar Kardeef laughed as he watched her dress ignite. He held her in a
firm grip Nicci could not escape.
Just then, a dark shape flew at her from midair, crashing into them
both. They tumbled back, the air all around filled with fire. As Nicci
rolled, it put the flaming dress out in the water.
The one who had crashed into them was just getting up, shaking her head
as if to clear it. Nicci recognized her. It was the Mord-Sith, Cara.
Kadar sat up, saw the woman, and lunged at her with the torch.
Nicci threw herself at Kadar, grabbing the torch in both hands as she
pushed it into the big man's face. The pitch splashed against his mask of
rags. The cloth on his chest and around his head ignited with a loud whoosh.
Kadar screamed as the flames burned into his already melted flesh.
Nicci had heard that heat to previously burned flesh was worse than the
first burning. By the sound of his screams, it appeared to be true.
Nicci snatched Cara's hand as the woman was regaining her feet. "Hurry!
I must get to Richard!"
Outside the room where Kadar's shrieks fell to strangled whimpers as
the flames suffocated him, Cara seized Nicci by the hair and held her Agiel
inches from her face.
"Give me one reason why I should trust you with Lord Rahl's life."

Nicci gazed into Cara's eyes. "Because I saw his statue, and I
understand, now, how wrong I've been. Have you ever been wrong, Cara? Really
wrong? Can you ever understand what it's like to realize you've been
unthinkingly serving evil, and hurting good people? Can you understand that
Richard has shown me there is something to live for?"
--]----
Nicci found Richard lying on his back, unconscious, or at least close
to it. His head was pillowed on a marble hand. Kahlan lay beside him,
clinging to him, weeping as his life bled away.
Nicci was shocked to see the bodies strewn on the floor around them.
Sister Alessandra, Brother Neal, Brother Narev. She knew by the way Richard
looked that there was precious little time-if it was not already too late.
Nicci knelt beside Kahlan. The woman was in abject misery, hanging by
the last threads of desperate hope over the black brink of despair. She had
come all this way, wanting to be with him, willing to suffer any end to do
so. And here he lay, the lifeblood draining out of the one she loved most in
life, knowing it was by her hand.
Nicci took Kahlan by her shoulders and gently pulled her back. Kahlan
looked up in confusion, hatred, and hope.
"Kahlan, I need to remove the spell from you if I'm to help him.
There's not much time."
"I don't trust you. Why would you help?"
"Because I owe it to him-to both of you."
"You have brought nothing but suffering and-"
Cara took Kahlan's arm. "Mother Confessor, you don't have to trust her.
Trust me. I'm telling you that Nicci might be able to save him. I believe
she will do her best. Please, let her do it."
"Why should I trust her with his last few minutes of his life?"
"Please, let Nicci have the chance Lord Rahl once gave me."
Kahlan searched Cara's eyes for a moment, then turned to Nicci.
"I know what it's like to be where he is now. I've been there. I chose
life. Now, he must. What do I need to do?"
"You and Richard have already done enough." Nicci took Kahlan's
tearstained face in her hands. "Just be still, and let me do this."
The woman was shivering in misery. Her long hair was matted and
dripping wet. She was covered in Richard's blood. She could do no more for
him, and she knew it.
Nicci had to.
As Kahlan gazed into her eyes, Nicci re-ignited the connecting cord of
magic, hoping that she had enough time.
Kahlan went rigid with the shock of pain it caused. Nicci knew exactly
how it felt, because she felt the same pain.
Milky light connected both women, heart to heart. Its wavering glow
grew to blinding brightness, taking the pain to a new level in intensity.
Kahlan's mouth opened in a silent cry. Her green eyes widened with the
torment flooding through them both-as the root of magic embedded in every
fiber of their two beings vibrated in response to the call of the light.
Nicci placed her hands over her heart, in that incandescent shaft of
light, and began to withdraw her power.


    CHAPTER 70



Richard pulled a shuddering breath as he opened his eyes. Somehow, he
was lying in a position that didn't hurt. He feared to: move, lest the
crushing pain return.
How could that be? He'd been run through with a sword.
The darkness around him was still and quiet. In the distance, he could
hear the sounds of battle raging on. The ground beneath him shuddered with
some great impact.
There were people around him. Bodies lay on the wet floor. He realized
he was on a board, keeping him up out of the water. He was covered in a warm
cloak. He could see the dark hunched shapes of people huddled around in the
little room.
Under his fingers lay the hilt of the Sword of Truth. Because the storm
of magic was calmed, he knew the sword was in its scabbard.
He looked up, and through the openings between beams, through broken
stone and splintered wood, and could see the rosy blush of dawn.
"Kahlan?" he whispered.
Three figures in the room sprang up, as if stone had suddenly come to
life.
The closest leaned in. "I'm here." She took up his hand.
With his other hand, he reluctantly probed for his wound. He couldn't
find it. He felt no pain, only a lingering ache.
Another figure leaned in. "Lord Rahl? Are you awake?"
"What happened?"
"Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I stabbed you. It was all my
fault. I should have taken an instant to be sure before I did it. I'm so
sorry."
Richard frowned. "Kahlan, I let you win."
Silence greeted him.
"Richard," Kahlan finally said, "you don't have to try to ease my
guilt. I know it's my fault. I ran you through with the sword."
"No," Richard insisted, "I let you win."
Cara patted his shoulder. "Of course you did, Lord Rahl. Of course you
did."
"No, really."
When the third figure turned to him, Richard's fingers tightened around
the hilt of his sword.
"How do you feel?" Nicci asked in that silken voice he knew so well.
"Did you remove the link to Kahlan?"
Nicci raised her hand and made a scissors motion with two fingers.
"Gone for good."
Richard let out a breath. "Then I feel fine." He tried to sit up, but
Nicci's hand restrained him.
"Richard, I can never ask your forgiveness because I can never return
what I

stole from you, but I want you to know that I now understand how wrong
I've been. My whole life, I have been blind. I'm not making an excuse. It's
just that I want you to know that you have restored my vision. In giving me
the answer I sought, you gave me my life. You gave me a reason to want to
live."
"And what did you see, Nicci?"
"Life. You sculpted it so big that even someone who had so blindly
served evil, as I had done, could see it. You must no longer prove yourself
to me. Now, it is for me, and those here you have inspired, to prove
ourselves to you."
"You and they have already begun, or I would not be alive."
"So . . . you are a Sister of the Light again?" Kahlan asked.
Nicci shook her head. "No. I am Nicci. My ability as a sorceress is
mine; it is who I am. My ability does not enslave me to others because they
want it. It's my life. It does not belong to anyone---except maybe to you
two.
"You both have shown me the value of life, the rationale of freedom. If
I am to serve beside anyone, now, it will be beside others who hold dear the
same values."
Richard placed his hand over Nicci's. "Thank you for saving my life.
For a while there, I thought I'd made a mistake when I let Kahlan run me
through."
"Richard," Kahlan objected, "you don't have to try to assuage my guilt
by saying that."
Nicci was gazing into his eyes, even as she addressed Kahlan. "He's
not. He's telling you the truth. I saw him do it. He was forcing me to make
a choice to save him, so that I would have to break the spell holding you.
I'm sorry you had to endure such a thing, Richard; I'd already made the
choice-the moment I saw your statue."
Richard tried to sit up again. Nicci restrained him again.
"It is going to take time for you to recover fully. You are still
suffering the lingering effects of the injury. Just because you are alive,
that doesn't mean it won't take some time before you are completely
recovered. You have gone through a formidable ordeal. You lost a lot of
blood. You will need to rebuild your strength. You could yet die if you
don't go easy."
"All right," Richard conceded. He sat up carefully with Kahlan's help.
"I'll keep your words in mind, but I still have to get up there." He turned
to Kahlan. "By the way, what are you doing all the way down here? How did
you know where I was? What's happening to the north, in the New World?"
"We'll talk about all that later," she said. "I had to be with you. I
decided that it was my life, and I wanted to be with you. You were right
about the war in the New World. It took me a long time to come to understand
that. I finally did. I came to be with you because that was all that was
left for me."
He looked to Cara. "And you?"
"I always wanted to see the world."
Richard smirked as he rose with the help of Kahlan and Cara, both. He
felt lightheaded, but was joyful to trade that for the way he had been
before. Kahlan handed him his sword. He slipped the baldric over his head,
laying the leather across his shoulder and the scabbard at his hip. Knowing
the weapon a little more intimately, now, he had a new respect for it.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to return it to you," Kahlan said. She
smiled sheepishly. "Like this, I mean."
Farther down the hall Kamil was anxiously waiting in the darkness
pierced by only a couple of candles. There were a number of people with him.
Richard didn't

know any of the people, except Kamil. He put a hand to the grinning
young man's shoulder.
"Kamil. Good to see you."
"Richard, I saw it. I saw the statue." His smile faded. "I'm sorry it
was destroyed."
"It was only a piece of stone. It was the ideas it represented that
were its true beauty."
People in the dim hallway nodded. Richard saw, then, the woman with the
wounded leg. He smiled at her. She returned a kiss, on the end of her
fingers, to his forehead.
"Bless you for your bravery in carving that statue," she said. "We are
all joyful to know you survived the night, Richard."
He thanked them all for their concern.
The ground shook-again.
"What is that?" Richard asked.
"The walls," one of the men said. "The people are pulling down the
walls with those carvings of death on them."
--]----
Even as some people were pulling down the walls, others were still
engaged in pitched battle. Richard could see in the faint light of dawn the
fighting on the distant hillsides. It appeared that many people were not
happy about the ideas Richard's statue had represented. There were those who
feared freedom, and preferred the numb existence of not having to think for
themselves.
The palace grounds, though, were in secure hands. The fires of liberty
were spreading outward, igniting a conflagration of change.
In the plaza, the semicircle of walls and all the columns but one still
stood. It felt somehow different here. This was the place where people had
seen the statue and had chosen life. They weren't destroying this part of
the palace.
Richard dragged his boot through the marble dust. In the center of the
plaza, the layer of white dust was all that remained. Every precious
fragment had been saved as a reminder.
From out on the grounds where several men were gathered, Victor spotted
Richard, Kamil, and Nicci, whom he knew. He called out as he and Ishaq came
running.
"Richard!" Victor raced up the steps. "Richard!"
Richard had Cara under one arm and Kamil under the other, supporting
him. He didn't have the strength to shout, so he simply waited until the two
men were close, both panting from their run.
"Richard, we're winning!" Victor said as he pointed at the hills. "All
those officials, gone, and we-"
The blacksmith went silent as his eyes fell on Kahlan. Ishaq, too,
stared at her, then swept his red hat off his head.
Victor's mouth labored a moment before words finally worked their way
out. His hand, usually so expressive, simply pointed at her as if she could
not be real flesh.
"You. . ." he said to Kahlan. "You are Richard's love."
Kahlan smiled. "How do you know that?"
"I saw the statue."
In the dawn light, Richard could see her face go red.

"It didn't look exactly like me," she protested, graciously.
"Not the way it looked, but the . . . character. You have that
quality."
Kahlan smiled, pleased by his words.
"Victor, Ishaq, this is Kahlan. My wife."
Both men blinked dumbly and looked as one to Nicci.
"As you know," Nicci said, "I am not a very good person. I am a
sorceress. I used my power to force Richard to come here with me. Richard
has shown me, along with many other people, the nobility of life."
"Then you're the one who saved his life?" Victor asked.
"Kamil told us you were hurt, Richard," Ishaq said, "and that a
sorceress was healing you."
"Nicci healed me," Richard confirmed.
Victor gestured expansively-at last. "Well, I guess that has to count
for something, saving Richard Cypher."
"Richard Rahl," Richard said.
Victor's rolling laugh rumbled up from deep inside. "Right. This day,
we are all Richard Rahl."
Nicci leaned in. "It really is Richard Rahl, Mr. Cascella."
"Richard Rahl," Kahlan said, adding her nod.
"Lord Rahl," Cara said in ill humor. "Show the proper respect to the
Seeker of Truth, the master of the D'Haran Empire, war wizard, and the
husband to the Mother Confessor herself." Cara lifted her hand in graceful,
regal introduction. "Lord Rahl."
Richard shrugged. He lifted the gleaming, silver-wound hilt of his
sword, showing them the word TRUTH in gold, and then let it drop back into
its scabbard.
"What a beauty!" Kamil shouted.
Victor and Ishaq both blinked again, and then dropped to a knee. They
bowed their heads deeply.
Richard rolled his eyes. "Will you two stop it." He shot Cara a scowl.
Victor peered up cautiously. "But we never knew. I'm sorry. You're not
angry I made fun of you?"
"Victor, it's me, Richard. How many times have we eaten your lardo
together?"
"Lardo?" Kahlan asked. "You know how to make lardo, Victor?"
Victor rose up, a grin growing across his face as he peered at her.
"You know of lardo?"
"Of course. The men who used to come to work on the white marble at the
Confessors' Palace used to eat lardo they made themselves -in big marble
tubs. I used to sit and eat it with them when I was little. They used to say
I would grow up to wear the white dress of the Mother Confessor one day
because I ate their lardo and would grow strong from it."
Victor thumped his chest with a big thumb. "I make lardo in marble
tubs, too."
"Do you let it age for a year?" Kahlan asked. "You have to let proper
lardo age for a year."
"Of course, a year! I make only proper lardo."
Kahlan gave him her most beautiful, green-eyed smile. "I would love to
taste it sometime."
Victor draped his massive arm around Kahlan's shoulders. "Come,
Richard's wife, I will give you a taste of my lardo."

Cara, a dark look on her face, put a hand to the blacksmith's chest to
stop him. She lifted his arm from Kahlan's shoulders.
"No one but Lord Rahl touches the Mother Confessor."
Victor gave Cara a quizzical look. "Have you ever had lardo?"
"No."
Victor slapped Cara on the back as he laughed. "Come, then, and I will
give you lardo, too. Then you will see-anyone who eats lardo with me is my
friend for life."
Kahlan took Kamil's place under one of Richard's arms, Victor under the
other, and they made their way across newly free ground up to the
blacksmith's shop, to have some lardo.


    CHAPTER 71



Verna pulled the candle close. She warmed her hands over it a moment,
then laid the journey book on the table. The sounds of the army camp outside
her small tent were by now so familiar she almost didn't hear them.
It was a cold D'Haran winter night, but at least they and all the
people they had helped were safely over the mountains. Verna understood
their quiet anxiety: it was a new and mysterious place, D'Hara, a land once
only a source of nightmares. At least they were safe for the time being. In
the distance the wolves' long plaintive howls echoed through the frigid
mountains, off the moonlit snow blanketing the seemingly endless, desolate,
colossal slopes.
It was the proper phase of the moon, even if it was the moon in a new
land, a strange and unknown land. Verna had checked for months, but there
was never a message. She didn't really expect one, since Kahlan had thrown
Ann's twinned journey book in the fire. But still, it was a journey book, an
ancient thing of magic, and Ann was a resourceful woman. It didn't hurt to
look.
Verna opened the little book with no real hope.
There, on the first page, was a message.
All it said, was, Verna, 1 am waiting, if you are there.
Verna drew the stylus from the spine and immediately began writing.
Prelate! You have been able to fix the damaged journey book? That's
wonderful. Where are you? Are you well? Have you found Nathan?
Verna waited. Shortly, the reply began to appear.
Verna, 1 am well. 1 was able to restore the journey book with the help
of some. . . people. Strange people. But the important part is that it is
restored for the most part. 1 am still searching for the prophet. I have
some good clues on Nathan's whereabouts, and 1 am looking into them. But how
are you, Verna? How goes the war? Warren? Kahlan? Is Zedd giving you much
trouble? That man can try the patience of stone. Have you had word of
Richard?
Verna stared at words on the page. A tear fell near Warren's name. She
picked up the stylus once more, and slowly began her reply.
Oh, Prelate, some terrible things have happened.
1 am sorry, Verna, came the reply. Verna, 1 am here. I am going nowhere
for the night. Take all the time you need. Tell me what happened. Tell me
how you are, first. 1 worry so for you. Verna, 1 love you like a daughter.
You know 1 do.
Verna nodded to the book. She did know it.
And 1 love you, too, Prelate, Verna began. I fear my heart is broken.
--]----

Kahlan stood silently beside him in the warm midday breeze as Richard
looked out over the river, at the city beyond. The city was peaceful, now.
Battle had raged for weeks, various factions struggling for power, lusting
to be the new local incarnation of the Order, each faction swearing that
they had the best interest of the people at heart, each promising that they
would be compassionate in their rule, each pledging that life would be
easier under their mandate because they would see to it that everyone of
means contributed to the common good.
After decades of such altruistic tyranny, decay and death had been the
only product of the business of the common good. Despite graveyards full of
evidence and a people left impoverished, these aspirants to power offered
only more of the same, and yet many still believed them simply because they
uttered such good intentions.
While a great number of brothers and officials had been killed, some
had escaped. Some of those, who had not fled, thought to take advantage of
the confusion and establish control, thinking they could rein in the hunger
for freedom, the ideas loosed, and put things back to the way they were.
The free people of Altur'Rang, their numbers growing daily, eradicated
each of these factions as they emerged from under their rocks. Nicci had
been no small aid in the bloody battles. She knew the methods of such
people, where they went to ground, and pounced on them like a wolf on
vermin.
The forces lusting to oversee the welfare and betterment of mankind
came to greatly fear that which they had in fact created: Death's Mistress.
There was no telling, yet, if freedom's flame, now ignited, would
spread through the Old World. It was still a very small flame in a vast and
dark place, but Richard knew that such a flame burned brightly.
To the north, matters were not nearly so auspicious. With Nicci's magic
withdrawn, Richard supposed that the D'Harans would know where he was, and
send him messages. Cara was immensely relieved to be able to sense his
location again through her bond.
He had listened quietly as Kahlan and Cara had told him all the details
of the war, and how they had sent the people of Aydindril on a long and
difficult journey to D'Hara before Jagang could march into the city in the
spring. It would give them heart to know that Lord Rahl had struck a mighty
blow against the Old World, to know that the Mother Confessor was with him,
and that they were well. A number of men had requested the job of carrying
that invaluable news north.
Soon, the D'Haran Empire and the people they were protecting who had
fled their homes would know of the victory to the south. The messengers
would actually be carrying a more precious commodity than that news: they
would in reality be carrying hope.
Richard had also sent his grandfather the same word.
Richard could hardly believe that Warren, his friend, was gone. The
terrible anguish, he knew, would be slow to fade.
Richard had sent one other thing north.
Nicci had told him of Brother Narev's importance to Emperor Jagang, of
their long history together, and of their shared vision of the future of
mankind. In the spring when Jagang finally, triumphantly, rode in to seize
the Confessors' Palace, waiting for him there, before his empty victory,
would be his mentor's head on a pike, topped by his creased brown cap.
Nicci had woven a spell around it, to preserve it, to keep scavengers
away. Rich

and wanted to be sure that when Jagang finally saw it, he would not
mistake who it was.
In the teeming city of Altur'Rang, peace had returned, along with
freedom. Life had returned. People had begun to open new businesses. In a
matter of weeks, there was already a variety of bread available. New
enterprises were starting every day. Ishaq was making a fortune hauling
goods, but already had competitors vying for the business. Nabbi had gone to
work for him. Ishaq had begged Richard to come work for him when he was
strong enough. Richard had only laughed.
Faval, the charcoal maker, had beseeched Ishaq to ask Richard to come
to visit and have dinner with him and his family. Faval had bought a cart,
and his sons now delivered charcoal.
Richard leaned with his forearms on the railing at the edge of the pier
and gazed down over the edge, to the swirling water below, as if trying to
divine what the future held.
The piers out into the river and the walkway atop them, along with the
plaza, were about all that remained of the palace. Richard had seen to it
that the spellforms were removed from the tops of the columns around the
grounds, and had Priska melt them down.
Richard had regained most of his strength. Kahlan was strong, and as
beautiful as he remembered her. She had changed, though. Her face had grown
more mature in the year they had been apart. When he gazed at her, he
hungered for a piece of marble and his chisels so he could carve her face in
stone.
Flesh in stone.
He turned and looked back along the pier, toward the plaza, with its
semicircle of columns behind it. The fallen column had been restored. The
plaza had been renamed "Liberty Square," Victor's idea. Richard asked if it
shouldn't be called "Liberty Circle," since it was round, and not square.
Victor thought it sounded better as Liberty Square, so Richard called it
Liberty Square. After all, the first man to declare himself free, there, had
been Victor.
Kahlan gazed with him back toward the plaza.
"What do you think?" Richard asked her.
She shook her head, looking at best a little uneasy. "I don't know,
Richard. It just seems so strange to see it so . . . big. So . . . white."
"You don't like it?"
She quickly put a hand on his arm to dispel the notion. "No, it isn't
that, it's just that it's so. . ." her uncertain gaze returned down the
pier-"big."
The center of the plaza, where the statue Richard had carved had
briefly stood, now held a towering marble statue being worked on by a number
of stone carvers who used to work at the site carving misery and death.
Kamil was down there, learning the craft of stone carving from masters. His
education started with a broom.
Richard had hired the carvers. With the fortune he had made helping the
Order build its palace, he could easily afford it. The carvers were glad for
such work-to exchange value for value.
The expert carvers were working on scaling up the small statue of
Spirit, which Richard had carved for Kahlan, way back in their mountain home
when she needed to witness vitality, courage, and indomitable spirit. It
emerged anew in the best white Cavatura marble.
The bronze ring of the sundial had survived intact, and was being added
to the

piece. The statue rising in the center would cast its shadow on the
curved dial plane. The words so many had touched that day would be there for
all to see, now.
Kahlan had been enthusiastic about the concept, but had spent so many
months with the carving Richard had done, that it was disorienting for her
to see it on such a massive scale. She was eager for the day when the
carvers were finished scaling it up and she could have her own statue of
Spirit back.
"I hope you don't mind sharing it with the world," he said.
Kahlan smiled wistfully. "No, not at all."
"Everyone loves it," he assured her.
Her wonderful lilting laugh drifted out across the warm afternoon air.
"I'll just have to get used to you showing people my body and soul."
Together, they watched as the carvers working on the flowing robes
checked their work with calipers against the statue Richard had carved and
the reference points from wooden braces used to scale up the work.
Kahlan rubbed his lower back. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. Now that you're with me, I couldn't feel better."
Kahlan laughed, then. "As long as I don't run you through?"
Richard's laugh fell in easily with hers. "You know, when we tell our
children how their mother ran their father through with a sword, it's going
to look pretty bad for you."
"Are we going to have children, Richard?"
"Yes, we are."
"Then I'll risk the tale."
As the warm breeze ruffled her hair, he kissed her brow.
Glancing along the line of trees, their leaves shimmering in the
sunlight, Richard watched birds cavort above the riverbank, sweep into a
group, and then soar together up over the semicircle of white marble columns
standing in the expanse of green grass.
Kahlan leaned contentedly against his shoulder as they watched men,
filled with pride, smiling while they worked on the statue standing before
those columns.
In Altur' Rang, there was a new spirit.
In the former heart of the Order beat freedom.