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"Make a tincture," Richard told her.
Kahlan replaced the stopper in the bottle and squatted down beside
Richard. "What next?"
"Make an infusion of mullein."
"Mullein, mullein," Kahlan mumbled as she turned to the task.
As Richard gave them instructions, half a dozen people worked at
boiling, blending, crushing, grating, filtering, and steeping. They added
some of the preparations together as they were completed, and kept others
separate as they worked on them. As they worked, the number of various tasks
were combined and reduced at specified points.
Richard gestured for Owen. Owen brushed his hands clean on his trouser
legs as he bent down to await instruction.
"Cold," Richard said, his eyes closed. "We need something cold. We need
a way to cool it."
Owen thought a moment. "There's a stream not far."
Richard pointed to various stations where people labored. "Pour those
bowls of preparations and powders into the boiling water in the kettle,
there. Then take it to the stream. Hold the kettle down in the water to cool
it." Richard held up a finger in caution. "Don't put it in too deep and let
the water from the stream run in over the top, or it will be ruined."
Owen shook his head. "I won't."
He stood impatiently as Kahlan poured the contents of shallow bowls
into the boiling pot of water. She didn't know if any of this made sense,
but she knew that Richard had the gift, and he certainly had figured out and
eliminated the problem he had been having with it. If his gift could guide
him in making the antidote, it might save his life.
Kahlan didn't know anything else that would.
She handed the kettle to Owen. He ran out the door to put it in the
stream to cool it. Cara followed him out to make sure that nothing happened
to what might be the only thing that could save Richard's life.
Jennsen sat on the floor on the other side of him, holding his hand.
With the back of her wrist, Kahlan pushed her hair off her face. She sat
beside Richard and took his free hand to wait for Owen and Cara to return.
Betty stood in the doorway, her ears pricked forward, her tail
intermittently going into a hopeful blur of wagging whenever Jennsen or
Kahlan looked her way.
It seemed like hours until Owen came running back with the kettle,
although Kahlan knew it really hadn't been all that long.
"Filter it through a cloth," Richard said, "but don't squeeze the cloth
at the end; just let the liquid run through until you have half a cup of it.
Once you've done that, then add the oils to the liquid you collected in the
cup."
Everyone stood watching Kahlan work, snatching up what she needed,
tossing it away when she was finished with it. When she had enough liquid
from the kettle collected in the cup, she poured in the oils.
"Stir it with a stick of cinnamon," Richard said.
Owen climbed up on the stool. "I remember seeing cinnamon."
He handed a stick down to Kahlan. She stirred the golden liquid, but it
didn't seem to be working.
"The oil and water don't want to mix," she told Richard.
His head was rolled to the side away from her. "Keep mixing. A moment
will come when they suddenly come together."
Dubious, Kahlan kept stirring. She could see that the oils were
sticking together in globs and not mixing with the water she had filtered
through the cloth. The more it cooled, the less and less it looked like it
was going to work.
Kahlan felt a tear of desperation run down her cheek and drip off her
jaw.
The contents of the cup stiffened. She kept stirring, not wanting to
tell Richard that it wasn't working. She swallowed past the growing lump in
her throat.
The contents in the cup began to melt. Kahlan gasped. She blinked.
Everything in the cup suddenly went together into a smooth, syrupy liquid.
"Richard!" She wiped the tear from her cheek. "It worked. It mixed
together. Now what?"
He held his hand out. "It's ready. Give it to me."
Jennsen and Cara helped him to sit up. Kahlan held the precious cup in
both hands and carefully put it to his mouth. She tipped it up to help him
drink. It took a while to get it down. He had to stop from time to time as
he sipped, trying not to cough.
It was a lot more than had been in any of the little square-sided
bottles, but Kahlan figured that maybe he needed more, since he was so late
to be taking it.
When he was finished, she reached up and set the cup on the counter.She
licked a drop of the liquid off her finger. The antidote had the slight
aroma of cinnamon and a sweet, spicy taste. She hoped that was right.
Richard worked at recovering his breath after the effort of drinking.
They gently laid him back down. His hands were trembling. He looked
miserable.
"Just let me rest, now," he murmured.
Betty, still standing in the doorway, watching intently, bleated her
wish to come in.
"He will be all right," Jennsen said to her friend. "You just stay out
there and let him rest."
Betty pulled softly and then lay down in the doorway to wait along with
the rest of them. It was going to be a long night. Kahlan didn't think she
was going to be able to sleep until she knew if Richard would be all right.
Zedd pointed. "There's another one, there, that needs to be cleaned
up," he said to Chase.
Chase wore a chain-mail shirt over a tan leather tunic. His heavy black
trousers held a black belt set with a large silver buckle emblazoned with
the emblem of the boundary wardens. Beneath his black cloak, strapped
everywhere--legs, waist, upper arms, over the backs of his shoulders--was a
small arsenal of weapons, everything from small thin spikes held in the fist
and used to puncture the skull to a crescent-shaped battle-axe used to
divide a skull cleanly with one blow. Chase was deadly with any of them.
It had been a while now since they needed the skills of a boundary
warden. Chase seemed to be a man without a mission.
The big man walked across the rampart and bent to pull a knife from
beneath the body.
He grunted in recognition. "There it is." He held the walnut-handled
knife up to the light as he inspected it. "I was worried I'd lost it."
He slipped the knife into an empty sheath without having to look. With
one hand, he grabbed the waistband of the trousers and picked up the stiff
body. He stepped into an opening in the crenellated wall and heaved the body
out into the air.
Zedd looked over the edge. It was a drop of several thousand feet
before the rock of the mountain flared enough for anything falling to make
contact. It was several thousand more feet down a granite cliff before the
forest began.
The golden sun was getting low in the mountains. The clouds had taken
on streaks, of gold and orange. From this distance, the city below was as
beautiful as ever, except Zedd knew that it was an empty place without the
people to bring it life.
"Chase, Zedd," Rachel called from the doorway, "the stew is ready."
Zedd threw his skinny arms into the air. "Bags! It's about time! A man
could starve waiting for stew to cook."
Rachel planted her fist with the wooden spoon on her hip and shook a
finger of her other hand at him. "If you keep saying bad words, you'll not
get any dinner."
Chase let out a sigh as he glanced over at Zedd. "And you think you
have troubles. You wouldn't think that a girl who doesn't come up to my belt
buckle could be such a trial."
Zedd followed Chase to the doorway through the thick stone wall. "Is
she always this much trouble?"
Chase mussed Rachel's hair on the way past. "Always," he confided.
"Is the stew good?" Zedd asked. "Worth watching my language for?"
"My new mother taught me how to make it," Rachel said in a tempting
singsong. "Rikka had some before she went out, and she said it was good."
Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. "Well, Emma can cook better
than any woman I ever met."
"Then be good," Rachel said, "and I'll give you biscuits to go with the
stew."
"Biscuits!"
"Sure. Stew wouldn't be stew without biscuits."
Zedd blinked at the child. "Why, that's what I always thought, too."
"You'd better let me see if she made it right, first," Chase said as
they passed through the tapestry lined halls of the Keep. "I'd hate you to
go making any firm commitments before we even know if the stew is edible."
"Friedrich helped me with the heavy parts," Rachel said. "He says it's
good."
"We'll see," Chase said.
Rachel turned and shook her wooden spoon at him. "You have to wash your
hands, first, though. I saw you throwing that dead man over the wall. You
have to wash your hands before you come to the table and eat."
Chase gave Zedd a look of strained forbearance. "Somewhere, there's a
boy enjoying himself right now, probably carrying around a dead frog,
oblivious to the sorry fact that he's someday going to be married to
little-miss-wash-your-hands-before-you-eat."
Zedd smiled. When Chase had taken Rachel in to be his daughter, it was
just about the best thing Zedd could ever have wished for, Rachel thought
so, too, and it looked like she still did. She was fiercely devoted to the
man.
As they sat at the table, before the cheery fire in the hearth, Zedd
enjoying his third bowl of stew, he couldn't recall the Keep being such a
wonderful place. It was because there was a child, along with friends, once
again in the halls of the Keep.
Friedrich, the man who had come on Richard's orders to warn Zedd of the
impending attack on the Keep, had realized he had not been in time. The man
used his head and had sought out Chase, the old friend he had heard Richard
talk about.
While Chase had gone to rescue Zedd and Adie, Friedrich had returned to
the Keep to spy on the people who had taken it. By watching carefully and
staying out of sight of a Sister, Friedrich had been able to provide Chase
and Zedd invaluable information about the number of people occupying the
Keep, and their routines. He then helped take the place back.
Zedd liked the man. He was not only frightfully handy with a knife, but
entertaining at conversation. Friedrich, since he had been married to a
sorceress, was able to converse with Zedd without being intimidated as some
were of wizards. Having lived in D'Hara all his life, Friedrich was also
able to fill in pieces of information.
Rachel held up a carving of a hawk. "Look what Friedrich made for me,
Zedd. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you ever did see?"
Zedd smiled. "It certainly is."
"It's nothing," Friedrich scoffed. "If I had some gold leaf, then I
could gild it for you. That used to be what I did for a living." He leaned
back and smiled to himself. "Until Lord Rahl made me a boundary warden."
"You know," Zedd drawled offhandedly to both men, "the Keep is even
more vulnerable, now, to those who might come and don't have magic than to
those who do. I'm just fine protecting against those who are affected by
magic, but not the other kind."
Chase nodded. "Seems so."
"Well, the thing is," he went on, "I was thinking that since there's no
boundary any longer, and what with all the trouble about, perhaps you two
would like to take on the responsibility of helping to protect the Wizard's
Keep. I'm not nearly so fit for the task as would be someone trained in such
things." Zedd leaned in, his brow lowering. "It's vitally important."
Elbows on the table, Chase chewed a bite of biscuit as he watched Zedd.
Finally, he stirred his spoon around in his bowl.
"Well, it could be a disaster if Jagang were to use those ungifted men
to get his hands on the place again." He thought about it. "Emma will
understand."
Zedd shrugged. "Bring her here."
Chase frowned. "Bring her here?"
Zedd gestured around. "The Keep is certainly big enough."
"But what would we do with our children?" Chase leaned back. "You don't
want all my children here in the Keep, Zedd--they'd be running up and down,
playing in the halls. It would drive you batty. Besides," Chase added,
peering with one scowling eye at Rachel, "each one's uglier than the next."
Rachel hid her giggle behind a biscuit.
Zedd remembered the sounds of children's laughter in the Keep, the
sounds of joy and love.
"Well, it would be a burden," he agreed, "but this is, after all, about
the protection of the Keep. What sacrifice wouldn't it be worth making to
protect the Keep?"
Rachel looked from Chase to Zedd. "My new sister, Lee, could bring Cat
back to you, Zedd."
"That's right!" Zedd said, throwing his hands up. "I haven't seen Cat
for ages! Is Lee treating Cat well?"
Rachel nodded earnestly. "Oh, yes. We all take good care of Cat."
"What do you think, Rachel?" Chase finally asked. "Would you want to
live here in this dusty old place with Zedd?"
Rachel ran over and hugged Chase's leg. "Oh, yes, can we, please? It
would be ever so grand."
Chase sighed. "Then I guess it's settled. But you'll have to behave and
not bother Zedd by being too loud."
"I promise," Rachel said. She frowned up at Zedd. "Will Mother have to
crawl into the Keep through that little tunnel, like we did?"
Zedd chuckled. "No, no, we'll let her come in the proper way, like the
lady she is." He turned to Friedrich. "How about it, boundary warden? Would
you be willing to continue doing Lord Rahl's bidding and stay to help guard
the Keep?"
Friedrich slowly spun the bird carving by the tip of one wing,
thinking.
"You know," Zedd added, "while you're waiting for some fearsome attack,
there are any number of old gilded things here at the Keep that are in
terrible need of repair. Perhaps you would consider taking on the job of
being the Keep's official gilder? We have plenty of gold leaf. And, someday,
when the people return to Aydindril, you would have a steady supply of
customers."
Friedrich stared down at the table. "I don't know. This one adventure
was all well and good, but since my wife, Althea, died, I don't seem to be
interested in much."
Zedd nodded. "I know how it is. I used to have a wife. I think it would
do you good to get paid to do something needed."
Friedrich smiled. "All right, then. I will take your job, wizard."
"Good," Chase said. "I'll have someone to help me when I need to lock
troublesome children in the dungeon."
Rachel giggled as he set her on the ground.
Chase pushed his chair back and stood. "Well, Friedrich, if we're going
to be Keep wardens, then I think we ought to make some rounds and satisfy
ourselves about the security of a few things. As big as this place is, Rikka
could use the help."
"Just mind the shields," Zedd reminded them as they headed for the
door.
After the two men had gone off, Rachel got Zedd another biscuit to go
with the rest of his stew. Her little brow bunched together earnestly.
"When we live here, we'll try to be real quiet for you, Zedd."
"Well, you know, Rachel, the Keep is a big place. I doubt you would
bother me much if you and your brothers and sisters wanted to play a little
bit."
"Really?"
Zedd pulled the leather-covered ball painted with faded blue and pink
zigzagged lines all around it out of his pocket and set it on the table.
Rachel's eyes lit up in astonishment.
"I found this old ball," he said, gesturing with his biscuit. "I think
a ball has a much better time if it has someone to play with it. Do you
think you and your brothers and sisters might like to play with this when
you live here? You can bounce it down the halls to your heart's content."
Her mouth fell open. "Really, Zedd?"
Zedd grinned at the look on her face. "Really."
"Maybe I can bounce it in the dark hall that makes the funny noises.
Then it wouldn't bother you any more than now."
"This old place is full of funny noises--and a bouncing ball isn't
liable to cause too much trouble."
She climbed up in his lap and put her little arms around his neck,
hugging him tightly.
"It's a lot better hugging you now that you found those things to get
that awful collar off your neck."
Zedd rubbed her back as she hugged him. "Yes, it is, little one; yes,
it is."
She leaned back and looked at him. "I wish Richard and Kahlan could be
here to play with the ball, too. I miss them something fierce."
Zedd smiled. "Me, too, little one. Me, too."
She frowned at him. "Don't get tears, Zedd. I won't make a lot of noise
to bother you."
Zedd shook a bony finger at her. "I'm afraid you have a lot to learn
about playing with a ball."
"I do?"
"Of course. Laughing goes with playing with a ball like biscuits go
with stew."
She frowned at him, not sure if he was telling the truth.
He set her on the floor. "Tell you what. Why don't you come with me and
I'll show you."
"Really, Zedd?"
Zedd stood up and mussed her hair. "Really."
He scooped the ball off the table. "Let's see if you can show this ball
how to have a good time."
Richard rested his back against a rock in the shade of a stand of white
oaks as he gazed off at the line of silver maples shimmering in the breeze.
The air smelled fresh after the rain of the day before. The clouds had moved
on and left a clear, bright blue sky behind. His head finally felt clear, as
well.
It had taken three days, but he was finally recovered from the effects
of the poison. His gift had not only helped bring Kahlan back from the
brink, but himself as well.
The people of the town of Witherton were just beginning to try to put
their lives back together. With all the people they'd lost, it was going to
be difficult for them. There were gaping holes where there used to be
friends or members of families. Still, now that they were free there was the
beginning of a vibrant sense of their future being better.
But just because they were free, that did not mean they would stay that
way.
Richard gazed up the broad valley beyond the town. People were out
working with their crops and tending to the animals. They were going back to
their lives. He was impatient to be on his way, and back to his own life.
This place had kept them from important business, from people who had been
waiting for them.
He guessed that this place had been important business as well. It was
hard telling what this all had begun, or what the future would hold.
For sure, the world would never be the same.
Richard saw Kahlan coming out through the gate, Cara beside her. Betty
frolicked along at their side, eager to see where they were going. Jennsen
must have let the goat go for a romp. Betty had grown up and spent her
entire life on the move. She'd never stayed in one place for long. Maybe
that was why she always wanted to follow Richard and Kahlan. She recognized
family and wanted to be with them.
"So, what's she going to do?" Richard asked Kahlan as she came close
and set her pack down beside Richard's.
"I don't know." With the flat of her hand to her brow, Kahlan shielded
her eyes from the sunlight. "I think she wants to tell you first."
Cara set her pack beside Kahlan's. "I think she's torn and doesn't know
what to do."
"How do you feel?" Kahlan asked as she reached down and with her
fingertips rubbed the back of his shoulder. Her gentle touch was a calming
connection.
Richard smiled up at her. "I keep telling you, I'm fine."
He tore off a strip of dried venison and chewed as he watched Jennsen,
Tom, Owen, Marilee, Anson, and a small group of the men finally emerge
through the gates and make their way across the waving field of waist-high
green grass.
"I'm hungry," Kahlan said. "Can I have some?"
"Sure." Richard pulled strips of the meat from his pack, stood, and
handed a piece to both Kahlan and Cara.
"Lord Rahl," Anson said, waving, as the group joined Richard, Kahlan,
and Cara in the shade of the oaks, "we wanted to come out to say good-bye
and see you off. Maybe we will walk with you toward the pass?"
Richard swallowed. "We'd like that."
Owen frowned. "Lord Rahl, why are you eating meat? You just healed your
gift. Won't you harm your balance?"
Richard smiled. "No. You see, incorrectly trying to apply a false
notion of balance was what caused the problem I was having with my gift."
Owen looked puzzled. "What do you mean? You said that you must not eat
meat as the balance to the killing you sometimes must do. After the battle
at the fortification, don't you need to balance your gift all the more?"
Richard took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he gazed out over
the mountains.
"You see, the thing is," Richard said, "I owe you all an apology. You
all listened to me, but I didn't listen to myself.
"Kaja-Rang tried to help me with the words revealed on the statue, the
words I told you--Deserve Victory. They were, first of all, meant for me."
"I don't understand," Anson said.
"I told you that your life is your own to live and that you have every
right to defend it.
"Yet, I was telling myself that I had to balance the killing I did to
defend my life and the lives of my loved ones by not eating meat--in
essence, saying my self-defense, my killing of those who attack me and other
innocent people, was morally wrong, and so for the killing I'd done I needed
to make amends to the magic that helped me by offering it the appeasement of
balance."
"But your sword's magic didn't work, either," Jennsen said.
"No, it didn't, and that should have been the thing that made me
realize what the problem was, because both my gift and the sword's magic are
different entities, yet they reacted logically to the same unreasoned action
on my part. The sword's magic began to fail because I myself, by not eating
meat, was saying that I did not completely believe that I was justified in
using force to stop others who initiate violence.
"The sword's magic functions through the belief structure of the
sword's owner; it only works against what the Seeker himself perceives as
the enemy. The sword's magic will not work against a friend. That was the
key I should have understood.
"When I thought that the use of the sword had to be balanced, I was, in
effect, expressing a belief that my actions were in some way unjustified.
Therefore, because I held that remnant of faith in a false concept that had
been inculcated in me throughout my life, just as all the people of Bandakar
were taught--that killing was always wrong--the sword's magic began to fail
me.
"The Sword of Truth's magic, as my gift, could only again be viable
when I comprehended--completely--that the magic needs no balance for the
killing I've done because the killing I've done is not only moral, but the
only moral course of action I could have taken.
"By not eating meat, I was acknowledging that some part of my mind
believed the same thing that the people here in Bandakar believed when we
first met Owen and his men--that killing is always wrong.
"By thinking that I must not eat meat as a balance, I was denying the
moral necessity of self-preservation, denying the essential of protecting
the value of life. The very act of seeking 'balance' for what I'm right in
doing is a conflict which is what was causing the headaches and also caused
the Sword of Truth's power to fail me. I was doing it to myself."
Richard had violated the Wizard's First Rule by believing a lie-- that
it was always wrong to kill--because he feared it was true. He had also
violated the Second Rule, among others, but most grievous of all, he had
violated the Sixth Rule. In so doing, he had ignored reason in favor of
blind faith. The failure of his gift and the sword's power was a direct
result of not applying reasoned thought.
Fortunately, with the Eighth Rule, he had come to reexamine his actions
and finally realized the flaw in his thinking. Only then was he able to
correct the situation.
In the end, he had fulfilled the Eighth Rule.
Richard shifted his weight to the other foot as he gazed at the faces
watching him. "I had to come to understand that my actions are moral and
need no balance, but are in themselves balanced by my reasoned actions, that
killing is sometimes not only justified, but the only right and moral thing
to do.
"I had to come to understand the very thing I was asking all of you to
understand. I had to understand that I must deserve victory."
Owen looked over at those with him and then scratched his head. "Well,
considering everything, I guess we can understand how you could make such a
misjudgment."
Jennsen, her red hair standing out against the green of the trees and
fields, squinted at him in the sunlight. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm
glad to be pristinely ungifted. Being a wizard sounds awfully hard."
The men all nodded while voicing their agreement.
Richard smiled at Jennsen. "A lot of things in life are hard to figure
out. Like what you've been considering. What have you decided?"
Jennsen clasped her hands and glanced over at Owen, Anson, and all the
rest of the people with them.
"Well, this is no longer a banished empire. It's no longer an empire
naked to the aggression of tyrants. It's part of the D'Haran Empire, now.
These people want the same as us.
"I think I'd like to stay with them for a while and help them come to
be part of the wider world, just as I've been starting to do. It's kind of
exciting. I'd like to take your suggestion, Richard, and help them in that."
Richard smiled at his sister. He ran his hand down her beautiful red
hair.
"On a condition," she added.
Richard let his hand drop back. "Condition?"
"Sure. I'm a Rahl, so ... I was kind of thinking that I ought to have
some proper protection. I could be a target, you know. People want to kill
me. Jagang would love to--"
Richard laughed as he drew her into a hug with one arm to silence her.
"Tom, being as you are a protector to the House of RahJ, I'm assigning
you to protect my sister, Jennsen Rahl. It's an important job and it means a
great deal to me."
Tom lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Lord Rahl?"
Jennsen swatted him with the back of her hand. "Of coursldie's sure. He
wouldn't say it unless he was sure."
"You heard the lady," Richard said. "I'm sure."
The big blond D'Haran smiled with a boyish grin. "All right, then. I
swear I will protect her, Lord Rahl."
Jennsen gestured vaguely back at the men and the town behind her.
"Since I've been with them, they have come to see that I'm not a witch,
and Betty is not a spirit guide--although for a time there I was afraid they
might be right about Betty."
Richard peered down at the goat. Betty cocked her head. "I guess none
of us but Betty knew the truth of what Nicholas was up to." At the sound of
her name, Betty's ears pricked forward and her tail went into a fit of
expectant wagging.
Jennsen patted Betty's round middle. "Now that these people understand
that I'm not a witch, but I do share some of their traits, I suggested I
might play an important role." She drew the knife at her belt and held it
up, showing Richard the ornate letter "R" engraved on the silver handle. "I
suggested that I be the official representative of the House of Rahl--if you
approve."
Richard grinned. "I think that's an excellent idea."
"I think that would be wonderful, Jennsen." Kahlan pointed to the east
with her chin. "But don't wait too long before you get back to Hawton to see
Ann and Nathan. They will be a valuable help in insuring that the people
here are no longer the prey of the Imperial Order. They will help you."
Jennsen twisted her fingers together. "But aren't they going to want to
be going with the both of you? Helping you?"
"Ann thinks she should direct Richard's life," Kahlan said. "I don't
think some of her directions have been the best thing." She slipped her arm
through Richard's. "He is the Lord Rahl, now. He needs to do things his way,
not theirs."
"They both feel responsible for us," Richard explained. "Nathan Rahl is
a prophet. Prophecy, because of the way it functions, actually does require
balance. The balance to Prophecy is free will. I am the balance. I know
those two don't like it, but I think I need to be free of them--for now. at
least.
"But there is more to it. I think it's more important that they help
the people here, first. We already know the uses to which Jagang will put
the pristinely ungifted. I think it's vital that these people here, who are
willing to value and protect the freedom they've won, are given some
guidance in how to do that.
"Ann and Nathan will be able to set up defenses that will help protect
the people here. They will also be valuable in teaching you the history that
is important for you to know."
After Richard picked up his pack and slipped his arms through the
straps, Owen gripped Richard's hand. "Thank you, Lord Rahl, for showing me
that my life is worth living."
Marilee stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you for teaching Owen to
be worthy of me."
Richard laughed. Owen laughed. Cara gave Marilee an approving clap on
the back. And then all the men laughed.
Betty pushed in and with a flurry of tail wagging got the point across
that she didn't want to be left out.
Richard knelt down and scratched Betty's ears. "And you, my friend,
from now on I don't want you letting any Slides using you to spy on people."
Betty pushed her head against his chest as he scratched her ears, and
bleated as if to say she was sorry.
Alone at last beneath the vast blue sky, the soaring walls of
snowcapped mountains, and in among the trees, Richard felt good about being
on their way. He would miss Jennsen, but it was only for a time. It would do
her good to be on her own, yet among people also discovering how to live
their own lives as they learned more about the wider world. He knew he would
not trade away all he had learned since he'd left his sheltered life in
Hartland. If not for that, he wouldn't be with Kahlan.
It felt good to walk and stretch his legs. He hitched his bow up higher
on his shoulder as they made their way through the dappled sunlight of the
hushed forest floor. After being so close to death as well as to losing his
ability to see, he found everything more vibrant. The mosses looked more
lush, the leaves more shimmery, the towering pines more awe-inspiring.
Kahlan's eyes seemed more green, her hair softer, her smile warmer.
As much as he at one time had hated the fact that he had been born
gifted, he was now relieved to have his gift back. It was part of him, part
of who he was, part of what made him the individual he was.
Kahlan had once asked him if he wished she had been born without her
Confessor's power. He had told her that he would never wish that, because he
loved her for who she was. There was no way to separate out the parts of a
person. That was to deny their individuality. He was no different. His gift
was part of who he was. His abilities touched everything he did.
His problem with his gift was of his own making. The magic of the Sword
of Truth had helped him understand that by failing him. In so doing, it had
revealed his own failure to recognize the truth.
To have it back at his hip, and to know that it was once again in
harmony with him and ready to defend him and those he loved, was a
comforting feeling--not because he wished to fight, but because he wished to
live.
The day was warm and they made good time climbing the rocky trail up
into the pass. By the time they reached the crown of the notch through the
formidable mountains, it was colder, but without a biting wind it was not
unpleasant.
At the top of the pass they stopped to gaze up at the statue of
Kaja-Rang, sitting where it had been for thousands of years, all alone,
keeping vigil over an empire of those who once could not see evil.
In some ways, the statue's presence was a monument to failure. Where
Kaja-Rang and his people had failed to get these people to see the truth,
Richard had succeeded--but not without Kaja-Rang's help.
Richard put his hands on the cold granite, on the words--Taiga
Vas-sternich--that had helped save his life.
"Thank you," he whispered up at the face of the man staring off toward
the Pillars of Creation, where Richard had discovered his sister.
Cara placed her hands over the words, and Richard was surprised to see
her look up at the statue and say, "Thank you for helping to save Lord
Rahl."
After they started descending the pass, first crossing the open ledges
and then making it down into the dense woods, Richard heard the call of a
pewee, the signal he had taught Cara that had served them so well.
"You know," Cara said as she led them down the rocky ground beside a
small stream, "Anson knows a lot about birds."
Richard stepped carefully among the tangle of cedar roots. "Really."
"Yes. While you were recovering we spent time talking." She put a hand
against the fibrous bark of the reddish trunk of a cedar to keep her
balance. She pulled her long blond braid forward over her shoulder as she
started out again, running her hand down the length of the braid.
"He complimented me on my bird whistle," Cara said.
Richard glanced to Kahlan. She shrugged to let him know that she didn't
have any idea what Cara was getting at.
"I told you that you learned it well," Richard said.
"I told him that you taught it to me, that it was the call of the
short-tailed pine hawk. Anson said that there wasn't any such bird as a
short-tailed pine hawk. He said the call I used as a signal--the call you
taught me--wa"a common wood pewee. Me, a Mord-Sith, using the call of a bird
named a pewee. Imagine that."
They walked in silence for a moment.
"Am I in trouble?" Richard finally asked.
"Oh, yes," Cara answered.
Richard couldn't help smiling but he made sure the Mord-Sith didn't see
it, nor. did Cara see Kahlan look back over her shoulder with the special
smile she gave no other but him.
Kahlan lifted an arm, pointing. "Look."
Through the gaps in the crowns of the cedars, against the bright blue
sky, they saw a black-tipped race circling high above them, riding the
mountain air currents. The races were no longer hunting them. This one was
simply looking for its dinner.
"What's that old saying?" Cara asked. "Something about a bird of prey
circling over you at the beginning of a journey being a warning sign."
"Yes, that's right," Richard said. "But I'm not going to let that old
tale bother me; we'll let you come with us anyway."
Kahlan laughed and received a scolding scowl. Kahlan laughed all the
more when Richard started laughing, too. Cara couldn't hold out, and as she
turned back to the trail, Richard saw the smile spread across her face.
The End Of Naked Empire.
Kahlan replaced the stopper in the bottle and squatted down beside
Richard. "What next?"
"Make an infusion of mullein."
"Mullein, mullein," Kahlan mumbled as she turned to the task.
As Richard gave them instructions, half a dozen people worked at
boiling, blending, crushing, grating, filtering, and steeping. They added
some of the preparations together as they were completed, and kept others
separate as they worked on them. As they worked, the number of various tasks
were combined and reduced at specified points.
Richard gestured for Owen. Owen brushed his hands clean on his trouser
legs as he bent down to await instruction.
"Cold," Richard said, his eyes closed. "We need something cold. We need
a way to cool it."
Owen thought a moment. "There's a stream not far."
Richard pointed to various stations where people labored. "Pour those
bowls of preparations and powders into the boiling water in the kettle,
there. Then take it to the stream. Hold the kettle down in the water to cool
it." Richard held up a finger in caution. "Don't put it in too deep and let
the water from the stream run in over the top, or it will be ruined."
Owen shook his head. "I won't."
He stood impatiently as Kahlan poured the contents of shallow bowls
into the boiling pot of water. She didn't know if any of this made sense,
but she knew that Richard had the gift, and he certainly had figured out and
eliminated the problem he had been having with it. If his gift could guide
him in making the antidote, it might save his life.
Kahlan didn't know anything else that would.
She handed the kettle to Owen. He ran out the door to put it in the
stream to cool it. Cara followed him out to make sure that nothing happened
to what might be the only thing that could save Richard's life.
Jennsen sat on the floor on the other side of him, holding his hand.
With the back of her wrist, Kahlan pushed her hair off her face. She sat
beside Richard and took his free hand to wait for Owen and Cara to return.
Betty stood in the doorway, her ears pricked forward, her tail
intermittently going into a hopeful blur of wagging whenever Jennsen or
Kahlan looked her way.
It seemed like hours until Owen came running back with the kettle,
although Kahlan knew it really hadn't been all that long.
"Filter it through a cloth," Richard said, "but don't squeeze the cloth
at the end; just let the liquid run through until you have half a cup of it.
Once you've done that, then add the oils to the liquid you collected in the
cup."
Everyone stood watching Kahlan work, snatching up what she needed,
tossing it away when she was finished with it. When she had enough liquid
from the kettle collected in the cup, she poured in the oils.
"Stir it with a stick of cinnamon," Richard said.
Owen climbed up on the stool. "I remember seeing cinnamon."
He handed a stick down to Kahlan. She stirred the golden liquid, but it
didn't seem to be working.
"The oil and water don't want to mix," she told Richard.
His head was rolled to the side away from her. "Keep mixing. A moment
will come when they suddenly come together."
Dubious, Kahlan kept stirring. She could see that the oils were
sticking together in globs and not mixing with the water she had filtered
through the cloth. The more it cooled, the less and less it looked like it
was going to work.
Kahlan felt a tear of desperation run down her cheek and drip off her
jaw.
The contents of the cup stiffened. She kept stirring, not wanting to
tell Richard that it wasn't working. She swallowed past the growing lump in
her throat.
The contents in the cup began to melt. Kahlan gasped. She blinked.
Everything in the cup suddenly went together into a smooth, syrupy liquid.
"Richard!" She wiped the tear from her cheek. "It worked. It mixed
together. Now what?"
He held his hand out. "It's ready. Give it to me."
Jennsen and Cara helped him to sit up. Kahlan held the precious cup in
both hands and carefully put it to his mouth. She tipped it up to help him
drink. It took a while to get it down. He had to stop from time to time as
he sipped, trying not to cough.
It was a lot more than had been in any of the little square-sided
bottles, but Kahlan figured that maybe he needed more, since he was so late
to be taking it.
When he was finished, she reached up and set the cup on the counter.She
licked a drop of the liquid off her finger. The antidote had the slight
aroma of cinnamon and a sweet, spicy taste. She hoped that was right.
Richard worked at recovering his breath after the effort of drinking.
They gently laid him back down. His hands were trembling. He looked
miserable.
"Just let me rest, now," he murmured.
Betty, still standing in the doorway, watching intently, bleated her
wish to come in.
"He will be all right," Jennsen said to her friend. "You just stay out
there and let him rest."
Betty pulled softly and then lay down in the doorway to wait along with
the rest of them. It was going to be a long night. Kahlan didn't think she
was going to be able to sleep until she knew if Richard would be all right.
Zedd pointed. "There's another one, there, that needs to be cleaned
up," he said to Chase.
Chase wore a chain-mail shirt over a tan leather tunic. His heavy black
trousers held a black belt set with a large silver buckle emblazoned with
the emblem of the boundary wardens. Beneath his black cloak, strapped
everywhere--legs, waist, upper arms, over the backs of his shoulders--was a
small arsenal of weapons, everything from small thin spikes held in the fist
and used to puncture the skull to a crescent-shaped battle-axe used to
divide a skull cleanly with one blow. Chase was deadly with any of them.
It had been a while now since they needed the skills of a boundary
warden. Chase seemed to be a man without a mission.
The big man walked across the rampart and bent to pull a knife from
beneath the body.
He grunted in recognition. "There it is." He held the walnut-handled
knife up to the light as he inspected it. "I was worried I'd lost it."
He slipped the knife into an empty sheath without having to look. With
one hand, he grabbed the waistband of the trousers and picked up the stiff
body. He stepped into an opening in the crenellated wall and heaved the body
out into the air.
Zedd looked over the edge. It was a drop of several thousand feet
before the rock of the mountain flared enough for anything falling to make
contact. It was several thousand more feet down a granite cliff before the
forest began.
The golden sun was getting low in the mountains. The clouds had taken
on streaks, of gold and orange. From this distance, the city below was as
beautiful as ever, except Zedd knew that it was an empty place without the
people to bring it life.
"Chase, Zedd," Rachel called from the doorway, "the stew is ready."
Zedd threw his skinny arms into the air. "Bags! It's about time! A man
could starve waiting for stew to cook."
Rachel planted her fist with the wooden spoon on her hip and shook a
finger of her other hand at him. "If you keep saying bad words, you'll not
get any dinner."
Chase let out a sigh as he glanced over at Zedd. "And you think you
have troubles. You wouldn't think that a girl who doesn't come up to my belt
buckle could be such a trial."
Zedd followed Chase to the doorway through the thick stone wall. "Is
she always this much trouble?"
Chase mussed Rachel's hair on the way past. "Always," he confided.
"Is the stew good?" Zedd asked. "Worth watching my language for?"
"My new mother taught me how to make it," Rachel said in a tempting
singsong. "Rikka had some before she went out, and she said it was good."
Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. "Well, Emma can cook better
than any woman I ever met."
"Then be good," Rachel said, "and I'll give you biscuits to go with the
stew."
"Biscuits!"
"Sure. Stew wouldn't be stew without biscuits."
Zedd blinked at the child. "Why, that's what I always thought, too."
"You'd better let me see if she made it right, first," Chase said as
they passed through the tapestry lined halls of the Keep. "I'd hate you to
go making any firm commitments before we even know if the stew is edible."
"Friedrich helped me with the heavy parts," Rachel said. "He says it's
good."
"We'll see," Chase said.
Rachel turned and shook her wooden spoon at him. "You have to wash your
hands, first, though. I saw you throwing that dead man over the wall. You
have to wash your hands before you come to the table and eat."
Chase gave Zedd a look of strained forbearance. "Somewhere, there's a
boy enjoying himself right now, probably carrying around a dead frog,
oblivious to the sorry fact that he's someday going to be married to
little-miss-wash-your-hands-before-you-eat."
Zedd smiled. When Chase had taken Rachel in to be his daughter, it was
just about the best thing Zedd could ever have wished for, Rachel thought
so, too, and it looked like she still did. She was fiercely devoted to the
man.
As they sat at the table, before the cheery fire in the hearth, Zedd
enjoying his third bowl of stew, he couldn't recall the Keep being such a
wonderful place. It was because there was a child, along with friends, once
again in the halls of the Keep.
Friedrich, the man who had come on Richard's orders to warn Zedd of the
impending attack on the Keep, had realized he had not been in time. The man
used his head and had sought out Chase, the old friend he had heard Richard
talk about.
While Chase had gone to rescue Zedd and Adie, Friedrich had returned to
the Keep to spy on the people who had taken it. By watching carefully and
staying out of sight of a Sister, Friedrich had been able to provide Chase
and Zedd invaluable information about the number of people occupying the
Keep, and their routines. He then helped take the place back.
Zedd liked the man. He was not only frightfully handy with a knife, but
entertaining at conversation. Friedrich, since he had been married to a
sorceress, was able to converse with Zedd without being intimidated as some
were of wizards. Having lived in D'Hara all his life, Friedrich was also
able to fill in pieces of information.
Rachel held up a carving of a hawk. "Look what Friedrich made for me,
Zedd. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you ever did see?"
Zedd smiled. "It certainly is."
"It's nothing," Friedrich scoffed. "If I had some gold leaf, then I
could gild it for you. That used to be what I did for a living." He leaned
back and smiled to himself. "Until Lord Rahl made me a boundary warden."
"You know," Zedd drawled offhandedly to both men, "the Keep is even
more vulnerable, now, to those who might come and don't have magic than to
those who do. I'm just fine protecting against those who are affected by
magic, but not the other kind."
Chase nodded. "Seems so."
"Well, the thing is," he went on, "I was thinking that since there's no
boundary any longer, and what with all the trouble about, perhaps you two
would like to take on the responsibility of helping to protect the Wizard's
Keep. I'm not nearly so fit for the task as would be someone trained in such
things." Zedd leaned in, his brow lowering. "It's vitally important."
Elbows on the table, Chase chewed a bite of biscuit as he watched Zedd.
Finally, he stirred his spoon around in his bowl.
"Well, it could be a disaster if Jagang were to use those ungifted men
to get his hands on the place again." He thought about it. "Emma will
understand."
Zedd shrugged. "Bring her here."
Chase frowned. "Bring her here?"
Zedd gestured around. "The Keep is certainly big enough."
"But what would we do with our children?" Chase leaned back. "You don't
want all my children here in the Keep, Zedd--they'd be running up and down,
playing in the halls. It would drive you batty. Besides," Chase added,
peering with one scowling eye at Rachel, "each one's uglier than the next."
Rachel hid her giggle behind a biscuit.
Zedd remembered the sounds of children's laughter in the Keep, the
sounds of joy and love.
"Well, it would be a burden," he agreed, "but this is, after all, about
the protection of the Keep. What sacrifice wouldn't it be worth making to
protect the Keep?"
Rachel looked from Chase to Zedd. "My new sister, Lee, could bring Cat
back to you, Zedd."
"That's right!" Zedd said, throwing his hands up. "I haven't seen Cat
for ages! Is Lee treating Cat well?"
Rachel nodded earnestly. "Oh, yes. We all take good care of Cat."
"What do you think, Rachel?" Chase finally asked. "Would you want to
live here in this dusty old place with Zedd?"
Rachel ran over and hugged Chase's leg. "Oh, yes, can we, please? It
would be ever so grand."
Chase sighed. "Then I guess it's settled. But you'll have to behave and
not bother Zedd by being too loud."
"I promise," Rachel said. She frowned up at Zedd. "Will Mother have to
crawl into the Keep through that little tunnel, like we did?"
Zedd chuckled. "No, no, we'll let her come in the proper way, like the
lady she is." He turned to Friedrich. "How about it, boundary warden? Would
you be willing to continue doing Lord Rahl's bidding and stay to help guard
the Keep?"
Friedrich slowly spun the bird carving by the tip of one wing,
thinking.
"You know," Zedd added, "while you're waiting for some fearsome attack,
there are any number of old gilded things here at the Keep that are in
terrible need of repair. Perhaps you would consider taking on the job of
being the Keep's official gilder? We have plenty of gold leaf. And, someday,
when the people return to Aydindril, you would have a steady supply of
customers."
Friedrich stared down at the table. "I don't know. This one adventure
was all well and good, but since my wife, Althea, died, I don't seem to be
interested in much."
Zedd nodded. "I know how it is. I used to have a wife. I think it would
do you good to get paid to do something needed."
Friedrich smiled. "All right, then. I will take your job, wizard."
"Good," Chase said. "I'll have someone to help me when I need to lock
troublesome children in the dungeon."
Rachel giggled as he set her on the ground.
Chase pushed his chair back and stood. "Well, Friedrich, if we're going
to be Keep wardens, then I think we ought to make some rounds and satisfy
ourselves about the security of a few things. As big as this place is, Rikka
could use the help."
"Just mind the shields," Zedd reminded them as they headed for the
door.
After the two men had gone off, Rachel got Zedd another biscuit to go
with the rest of his stew. Her little brow bunched together earnestly.
"When we live here, we'll try to be real quiet for you, Zedd."
"Well, you know, Rachel, the Keep is a big place. I doubt you would
bother me much if you and your brothers and sisters wanted to play a little
bit."
"Really?"
Zedd pulled the leather-covered ball painted with faded blue and pink
zigzagged lines all around it out of his pocket and set it on the table.
Rachel's eyes lit up in astonishment.
"I found this old ball," he said, gesturing with his biscuit. "I think
a ball has a much better time if it has someone to play with it. Do you
think you and your brothers and sisters might like to play with this when
you live here? You can bounce it down the halls to your heart's content."
Her mouth fell open. "Really, Zedd?"
Zedd grinned at the look on her face. "Really."
"Maybe I can bounce it in the dark hall that makes the funny noises.
Then it wouldn't bother you any more than now."
"This old place is full of funny noises--and a bouncing ball isn't
liable to cause too much trouble."
She climbed up in his lap and put her little arms around his neck,
hugging him tightly.
"It's a lot better hugging you now that you found those things to get
that awful collar off your neck."
Zedd rubbed her back as she hugged him. "Yes, it is, little one; yes,
it is."
She leaned back and looked at him. "I wish Richard and Kahlan could be
here to play with the ball, too. I miss them something fierce."
Zedd smiled. "Me, too, little one. Me, too."
She frowned at him. "Don't get tears, Zedd. I won't make a lot of noise
to bother you."
Zedd shook a bony finger at her. "I'm afraid you have a lot to learn
about playing with a ball."
"I do?"
"Of course. Laughing goes with playing with a ball like biscuits go
with stew."
She frowned at him, not sure if he was telling the truth.
He set her on the floor. "Tell you what. Why don't you come with me and
I'll show you."
"Really, Zedd?"
Zedd stood up and mussed her hair. "Really."
He scooped the ball off the table. "Let's see if you can show this ball
how to have a good time."
Richard rested his back against a rock in the shade of a stand of white
oaks as he gazed off at the line of silver maples shimmering in the breeze.
The air smelled fresh after the rain of the day before. The clouds had moved
on and left a clear, bright blue sky behind. His head finally felt clear, as
well.
It had taken three days, but he was finally recovered from the effects
of the poison. His gift had not only helped bring Kahlan back from the
brink, but himself as well.
The people of the town of Witherton were just beginning to try to put
their lives back together. With all the people they'd lost, it was going to
be difficult for them. There were gaping holes where there used to be
friends or members of families. Still, now that they were free there was the
beginning of a vibrant sense of their future being better.
But just because they were free, that did not mean they would stay that
way.
Richard gazed up the broad valley beyond the town. People were out
working with their crops and tending to the animals. They were going back to
their lives. He was impatient to be on his way, and back to his own life.
This place had kept them from important business, from people who had been
waiting for them.
He guessed that this place had been important business as well. It was
hard telling what this all had begun, or what the future would hold.
For sure, the world would never be the same.
Richard saw Kahlan coming out through the gate, Cara beside her. Betty
frolicked along at their side, eager to see where they were going. Jennsen
must have let the goat go for a romp. Betty had grown up and spent her
entire life on the move. She'd never stayed in one place for long. Maybe
that was why she always wanted to follow Richard and Kahlan. She recognized
family and wanted to be with them.
"So, what's she going to do?" Richard asked Kahlan as she came close
and set her pack down beside Richard's.
"I don't know." With the flat of her hand to her brow, Kahlan shielded
her eyes from the sunlight. "I think she wants to tell you first."
Cara set her pack beside Kahlan's. "I think she's torn and doesn't know
what to do."
"How do you feel?" Kahlan asked as she reached down and with her
fingertips rubbed the back of his shoulder. Her gentle touch was a calming
connection.
Richard smiled up at her. "I keep telling you, I'm fine."
He tore off a strip of dried venison and chewed as he watched Jennsen,
Tom, Owen, Marilee, Anson, and a small group of the men finally emerge
through the gates and make their way across the waving field of waist-high
green grass.
"I'm hungry," Kahlan said. "Can I have some?"
"Sure." Richard pulled strips of the meat from his pack, stood, and
handed a piece to both Kahlan and Cara.
"Lord Rahl," Anson said, waving, as the group joined Richard, Kahlan,
and Cara in the shade of the oaks, "we wanted to come out to say good-bye
and see you off. Maybe we will walk with you toward the pass?"
Richard swallowed. "We'd like that."
Owen frowned. "Lord Rahl, why are you eating meat? You just healed your
gift. Won't you harm your balance?"
Richard smiled. "No. You see, incorrectly trying to apply a false
notion of balance was what caused the problem I was having with my gift."
Owen looked puzzled. "What do you mean? You said that you must not eat
meat as the balance to the killing you sometimes must do. After the battle
at the fortification, don't you need to balance your gift all the more?"
Richard took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he gazed out over
the mountains.
"You see, the thing is," Richard said, "I owe you all an apology. You
all listened to me, but I didn't listen to myself.
"Kaja-Rang tried to help me with the words revealed on the statue, the
words I told you--Deserve Victory. They were, first of all, meant for me."
"I don't understand," Anson said.
"I told you that your life is your own to live and that you have every
right to defend it.
"Yet, I was telling myself that I had to balance the killing I did to
defend my life and the lives of my loved ones by not eating meat--in
essence, saying my self-defense, my killing of those who attack me and other
innocent people, was morally wrong, and so for the killing I'd done I needed
to make amends to the magic that helped me by offering it the appeasement of
balance."
"But your sword's magic didn't work, either," Jennsen said.
"No, it didn't, and that should have been the thing that made me
realize what the problem was, because both my gift and the sword's magic are
different entities, yet they reacted logically to the same unreasoned action
on my part. The sword's magic began to fail because I myself, by not eating
meat, was saying that I did not completely believe that I was justified in
using force to stop others who initiate violence.
"The sword's magic functions through the belief structure of the
sword's owner; it only works against what the Seeker himself perceives as
the enemy. The sword's magic will not work against a friend. That was the
key I should have understood.
"When I thought that the use of the sword had to be balanced, I was, in
effect, expressing a belief that my actions were in some way unjustified.
Therefore, because I held that remnant of faith in a false concept that had
been inculcated in me throughout my life, just as all the people of Bandakar
were taught--that killing was always wrong--the sword's magic began to fail
me.
"The Sword of Truth's magic, as my gift, could only again be viable
when I comprehended--completely--that the magic needs no balance for the
killing I've done because the killing I've done is not only moral, but the
only moral course of action I could have taken.
"By not eating meat, I was acknowledging that some part of my mind
believed the same thing that the people here in Bandakar believed when we
first met Owen and his men--that killing is always wrong.
"By thinking that I must not eat meat as a balance, I was denying the
moral necessity of self-preservation, denying the essential of protecting
the value of life. The very act of seeking 'balance' for what I'm right in
doing is a conflict which is what was causing the headaches and also caused
the Sword of Truth's power to fail me. I was doing it to myself."
Richard had violated the Wizard's First Rule by believing a lie-- that
it was always wrong to kill--because he feared it was true. He had also
violated the Second Rule, among others, but most grievous of all, he had
violated the Sixth Rule. In so doing, he had ignored reason in favor of
blind faith. The failure of his gift and the sword's power was a direct
result of not applying reasoned thought.
Fortunately, with the Eighth Rule, he had come to reexamine his actions
and finally realized the flaw in his thinking. Only then was he able to
correct the situation.
In the end, he had fulfilled the Eighth Rule.
Richard shifted his weight to the other foot as he gazed at the faces
watching him. "I had to come to understand that my actions are moral and
need no balance, but are in themselves balanced by my reasoned actions, that
killing is sometimes not only justified, but the only right and moral thing
to do.
"I had to come to understand the very thing I was asking all of you to
understand. I had to understand that I must deserve victory."
Owen looked over at those with him and then scratched his head. "Well,
considering everything, I guess we can understand how you could make such a
misjudgment."
Jennsen, her red hair standing out against the green of the trees and
fields, squinted at him in the sunlight. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm
glad to be pristinely ungifted. Being a wizard sounds awfully hard."
The men all nodded while voicing their agreement.
Richard smiled at Jennsen. "A lot of things in life are hard to figure
out. Like what you've been considering. What have you decided?"
Jennsen clasped her hands and glanced over at Owen, Anson, and all the
rest of the people with them.
"Well, this is no longer a banished empire. It's no longer an empire
naked to the aggression of tyrants. It's part of the D'Haran Empire, now.
These people want the same as us.
"I think I'd like to stay with them for a while and help them come to
be part of the wider world, just as I've been starting to do. It's kind of
exciting. I'd like to take your suggestion, Richard, and help them in that."
Richard smiled at his sister. He ran his hand down her beautiful red
hair.
"On a condition," she added.
Richard let his hand drop back. "Condition?"
"Sure. I'm a Rahl, so ... I was kind of thinking that I ought to have
some proper protection. I could be a target, you know. People want to kill
me. Jagang would love to--"
Richard laughed as he drew her into a hug with one arm to silence her.
"Tom, being as you are a protector to the House of RahJ, I'm assigning
you to protect my sister, Jennsen Rahl. It's an important job and it means a
great deal to me."
Tom lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Lord Rahl?"
Jennsen swatted him with the back of her hand. "Of coursldie's sure. He
wouldn't say it unless he was sure."
"You heard the lady," Richard said. "I'm sure."
The big blond D'Haran smiled with a boyish grin. "All right, then. I
swear I will protect her, Lord Rahl."
Jennsen gestured vaguely back at the men and the town behind her.
"Since I've been with them, they have come to see that I'm not a witch,
and Betty is not a spirit guide--although for a time there I was afraid they
might be right about Betty."
Richard peered down at the goat. Betty cocked her head. "I guess none
of us but Betty knew the truth of what Nicholas was up to." At the sound of
her name, Betty's ears pricked forward and her tail went into a fit of
expectant wagging.
Jennsen patted Betty's round middle. "Now that these people understand
that I'm not a witch, but I do share some of their traits, I suggested I
might play an important role." She drew the knife at her belt and held it
up, showing Richard the ornate letter "R" engraved on the silver handle. "I
suggested that I be the official representative of the House of Rahl--if you
approve."
Richard grinned. "I think that's an excellent idea."
"I think that would be wonderful, Jennsen." Kahlan pointed to the east
with her chin. "But don't wait too long before you get back to Hawton to see
Ann and Nathan. They will be a valuable help in insuring that the people
here are no longer the prey of the Imperial Order. They will help you."
Jennsen twisted her fingers together. "But aren't they going to want to
be going with the both of you? Helping you?"
"Ann thinks she should direct Richard's life," Kahlan said. "I don't
think some of her directions have been the best thing." She slipped her arm
through Richard's. "He is the Lord Rahl, now. He needs to do things his way,
not theirs."
"They both feel responsible for us," Richard explained. "Nathan Rahl is
a prophet. Prophecy, because of the way it functions, actually does require
balance. The balance to Prophecy is free will. I am the balance. I know
those two don't like it, but I think I need to be free of them--for now. at
least.
"But there is more to it. I think it's more important that they help
the people here, first. We already know the uses to which Jagang will put
the pristinely ungifted. I think it's vital that these people here, who are
willing to value and protect the freedom they've won, are given some
guidance in how to do that.
"Ann and Nathan will be able to set up defenses that will help protect
the people here. They will also be valuable in teaching you the history that
is important for you to know."
After Richard picked up his pack and slipped his arms through the
straps, Owen gripped Richard's hand. "Thank you, Lord Rahl, for showing me
that my life is worth living."
Marilee stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you for teaching Owen to
be worthy of me."
Richard laughed. Owen laughed. Cara gave Marilee an approving clap on
the back. And then all the men laughed.
Betty pushed in and with a flurry of tail wagging got the point across
that she didn't want to be left out.
Richard knelt down and scratched Betty's ears. "And you, my friend,
from now on I don't want you letting any Slides using you to spy on people."
Betty pushed her head against his chest as he scratched her ears, and
bleated as if to say she was sorry.
Alone at last beneath the vast blue sky, the soaring walls of
snowcapped mountains, and in among the trees, Richard felt good about being
on their way. He would miss Jennsen, but it was only for a time. It would do
her good to be on her own, yet among people also discovering how to live
their own lives as they learned more about the wider world. He knew he would
not trade away all he had learned since he'd left his sheltered life in
Hartland. If not for that, he wouldn't be with Kahlan.
It felt good to walk and stretch his legs. He hitched his bow up higher
on his shoulder as they made their way through the dappled sunlight of the
hushed forest floor. After being so close to death as well as to losing his
ability to see, he found everything more vibrant. The mosses looked more
lush, the leaves more shimmery, the towering pines more awe-inspiring.
Kahlan's eyes seemed more green, her hair softer, her smile warmer.
As much as he at one time had hated the fact that he had been born
gifted, he was now relieved to have his gift back. It was part of him, part
of who he was, part of what made him the individual he was.
Kahlan had once asked him if he wished she had been born without her
Confessor's power. He had told her that he would never wish that, because he
loved her for who she was. There was no way to separate out the parts of a
person. That was to deny their individuality. He was no different. His gift
was part of who he was. His abilities touched everything he did.
His problem with his gift was of his own making. The magic of the Sword
of Truth had helped him understand that by failing him. In so doing, it had
revealed his own failure to recognize the truth.
To have it back at his hip, and to know that it was once again in
harmony with him and ready to defend him and those he loved, was a
comforting feeling--not because he wished to fight, but because he wished to
live.
The day was warm and they made good time climbing the rocky trail up
into the pass. By the time they reached the crown of the notch through the
formidable mountains, it was colder, but without a biting wind it was not
unpleasant.
At the top of the pass they stopped to gaze up at the statue of
Kaja-Rang, sitting where it had been for thousands of years, all alone,
keeping vigil over an empire of those who once could not see evil.
In some ways, the statue's presence was a monument to failure. Where
Kaja-Rang and his people had failed to get these people to see the truth,
Richard had succeeded--but not without Kaja-Rang's help.
Richard put his hands on the cold granite, on the words--Taiga
Vas-sternich--that had helped save his life.
"Thank you," he whispered up at the face of the man staring off toward
the Pillars of Creation, where Richard had discovered his sister.
Cara placed her hands over the words, and Richard was surprised to see
her look up at the statue and say, "Thank you for helping to save Lord
Rahl."
After they started descending the pass, first crossing the open ledges
and then making it down into the dense woods, Richard heard the call of a
pewee, the signal he had taught Cara that had served them so well.
"You know," Cara said as she led them down the rocky ground beside a
small stream, "Anson knows a lot about birds."
Richard stepped carefully among the tangle of cedar roots. "Really."
"Yes. While you were recovering we spent time talking." She put a hand
against the fibrous bark of the reddish trunk of a cedar to keep her
balance. She pulled her long blond braid forward over her shoulder as she
started out again, running her hand down the length of the braid.
"He complimented me on my bird whistle," Cara said.
Richard glanced to Kahlan. She shrugged to let him know that she didn't
have any idea what Cara was getting at.
"I told you that you learned it well," Richard said.
"I told him that you taught it to me, that it was the call of the
short-tailed pine hawk. Anson said that there wasn't any such bird as a
short-tailed pine hawk. He said the call I used as a signal--the call you
taught me--wa"a common wood pewee. Me, a Mord-Sith, using the call of a bird
named a pewee. Imagine that."
They walked in silence for a moment.
"Am I in trouble?" Richard finally asked.
"Oh, yes," Cara answered.
Richard couldn't help smiling but he made sure the Mord-Sith didn't see
it, nor. did Cara see Kahlan look back over her shoulder with the special
smile she gave no other but him.
Kahlan lifted an arm, pointing. "Look."
Through the gaps in the crowns of the cedars, against the bright blue
sky, they saw a black-tipped race circling high above them, riding the
mountain air currents. The races were no longer hunting them. This one was
simply looking for its dinner.
"What's that old saying?" Cara asked. "Something about a bird of prey
circling over you at the beginning of a journey being a warning sign."
"Yes, that's right," Richard said. "But I'm not going to let that old
tale bother me; we'll let you come with us anyway."
Kahlan laughed and received a scolding scowl. Kahlan laughed all the
more when Richard started laughing, too. Cara couldn't hold out, and as she
turned back to the trail, Richard saw the smile spread across her face.
The End Of Naked Empire.