Stone of Tears (117 page)

Richard doubted that any of the young wizards, except Warren, did a day’s work since they had come here and had ready access to unlimited gold, but no knowledge of its value. Just one more way the Palace of the Prophets destroyed lives. He wondered how many children of young wizards that gold had spawned.

Richard went out onto the balcony to take a take stock before he left. Guards were patrolling the grounds. Sisters, too, were diligently searching every building and covered corridor. The Sisters would have to somehow deal with those six. He certainly had no idea how to contain their power.

When he heard the door in the front room, he assumed it would be Sister Verna. They had to get going. When he turned and looked, he had no time to react.

Pasha was storming through the room, toward him. She threw her hands up. The doors blew off their hinges and over the balcony railing, falling the thirty feet to the stone paved courtyard below.

The impact of the solid wall of air threw him back. Only the railing prevented him from being thrown over with the splintered doors. The wind had been knocked from his lungs, and a sharp pain in his side prevented him from taking another breath.

As he staggered away from the edge of the balcony, another blow threw him back once again, this time hammering his head against the stone railing. He saw a shocking spray of blood hit the stone before the slate floor collected him.

Pasha was screaming in a rage. At first, her words were nothing but an incoherent buzz in his mind. He pushed himself up with his hands. Blood was running from head. A pool of it spread beneath him. Reeling, he toppled to his side.

He managed to sit up and flop back against the railing. “Pasha, what …”

“Keep your filthy mouth shut! I won’t hear any of it!”

She was standing in the doorway, fists at her sides. One fist held a dacra. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You’re the Keeper’s spawn! You’re an obscene disciple of the Keeper! You do nothing but hurt good people!”

Richard put his hands to his head. They came away covered with blood. He was so dizzy he had to fight the urge to be sick.

“What are you talking about?” he managed to mumble.

“Sister Ulicia told me! She told me you serve the Keeper! She told me how you killed Sister Liliana!”

“Pasha, Sister Ulicia is a Sister of the Dark …”

“She told me you would say that! She told me how you used your vile magic to kill Sister Finella and the Prelate! That’s why you were always wanting to go to the Prelate’s office! So you could kill our leader in the Light! You are filth!”

The world swam before his eyes. He saw two of her, moving around and around each other. “Pasha … that’s not true.”

“Only the Keeper’s tricks saved you yesterday. You gave someone else the coat I loved, to humiliate me! Sister Ulicia told me how the Keeper whispers in your ear!

“I should have killed you when I saw you on the bridge, then none of this would have happened. But I foolishly thought I could save you from the Keepers clutches! Those Sisters, and the Prelate, would be alive now had I finished the job. I failed the Creator when you tricked me into killing Perry, but that will not save you again. Your vile underworld tricks will not save you again!” “Pasha, please, just listen to me. You are being lied to. Please listen. The Prelate isn’t dead. I can take you to her.”

“You wish to kill me, too! That is all you ever talk of—killing! You profane us all! And to think I could have ever thought I loved you!”

She raised the dacra and, with a scream, ran for him. Richard somehow managed to pull the sword, woozily wondering which image of her to try to stop. The anger, the magic, of the sword brought strength to his arms. He brought the sword up as she dove for him, dacra first. The two images of her converged.

The sword never touched her. With a shriek, she was propelled over the railing above him. She screamed all the way down. Richard’s eyes winced shut when he heard her scream terminate when she hit the stone.

Richard opened his eyes to see a stunned Warren standing in the doorway. He remembered Jedidiah’s fall on the stairs.

“Oh, dear spirits, no,” Richard whispered.

He levered himself to his feet and took a quick glance over the edge. People rushed from different directions toward the body. Warren was shuffling woodenly toward the railing. Richard stopped him halfway there.

“No, Warren, don’t look.”

Tears welled up in Warren’s eyes. Richard put his arms around his friend.
Why did you do that
, he thought,
I could have done it. I was going to do it. You didn’t have to.

Over Warren’s shoulder, Richard saw Sister Verna standing in the room.

“She killed Perry,” Warren said. “I heard her admit it. She was going to kill you.”

I could have done it
, Richard thought,
you didn’t need to.
But instead he said, “Thank you Warren. You saved my life.”

“She was going to kill you,” he cried against Richard’s shoulder. “Why would she do that?”

Sister Verna put a comforting hand to Warren’s back. “She was lied to by the Sisters of the Dark. The Keeper filled her mind with lies. She heard the whispers of the darkness. The Keeper can make even the good listen to his whispers. You did a brave thing, Warren.”

“Then why do I feel so ashamed? I loved her, and I killed her.”

Richard simply held him as he wept.

Sister Verna pulled them back into the room. She made Richard bend over as she examined his head. Blood was dripping all over the floor.

“This must be tended to. I can’t fix this much damage.”

“I can,” Warren said. “I’m fair at healing. Let me do it.”

When Warren had finished, Sister Verna made Richard hold his head over the basin while she poured the ewer of water over him, washing off the blood. Warren sat on the edge of a chair, his head in his hands. Richard thought that he was going to need the basin.

Warren’s head came up when the Sister finished. “I figured out the rule you told me about. People will believe a lie because they want to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it is. Just like Pasha believed a lie. Am I right?”

Richard smiled. “You are, Warren.”

Warren managed a weak smile. “Sister Verna, can you take this collar off me?”

Sister Verna hesitated. “You would have to pass the test of pain, Warren.”

“Sister,” Richard said. “What do you think he just did?”

“What do you mean?”

“The young wizards sent back through the Valley are able to pass because they don’t have sufficient power to draw the spells to them, they are not full wizards. Zedd told me that wizards have to pass a test of pain.

“Over the millennia, the Sisters have convoluted that into making them endure physical pain. I think they’re wrong. I think the test Warren just passed is more pain than the Sisters could ever give. Am I right, Warren.”

He nodded, his face going white again. “Nothing they ever did hurt like this.”

“Sister, remember when I told you how I turned the blade white, and killed that woman by loving her? Maybe that, too, was a form of the test of pain. I know how much that hurt.”

She spread her hands in dismay. “Do you really think that one with the gift must kill someone they love to pass the test? Richard, that can’t be.”

“No, Sister, they don’t have to kill someone they love. But they must prove they can make the right decision. They must prove they have what it takes to choose the greater good. Would one with the gift be a good servant to this Creator of yours, to the hope of life, if they could act only for selfish needs?

“Giving someone pain, as the Sisters do, does not prove anything except that the victim does not die. Wouldn’t serving the light of life, and loving life, require that the person prove instead that of their own free will they would choose right, choose that light of life and love for all people?”

“Dear Creator,” she whispered, “have we had it wrong all this time?” Her hand covered her mouth a moment. “And we thought we were bringing the Creator’s Light to these boys.”

Sister Verna’s back straightened with resolve. She stood before Warren, putting her hands to the sides of his Rada’Han. As she stood with her eyes closed, her hands to the collar, there was a humming vibration in the air. After a moment, silence settled over the room, and then Richard heard a snapping sound. The Rada’Han cracked and fell away.

Warren looked positively giddy at the sight of the broken collar. Richard wished it could be that easy for him.

“What are you going to do now, Warren,” Richard asked. “Are you going to leave the Palace?”

“Maybe. But I wish to study the books some more first, if the Sisters will allow it.”

“They will allow it,” Sister Verna said. “I will see to it.”

“Then, maybe I would like to travel to Aydindril, to the Wizard’s Keep, and study the books and prophecies you told me were kept there.”

“That sounds a wise plan, Warren. Sister, I must be going.”

“Warren,” she said, “why don’t you come along until I reach the Valley? You are free, now.” She glanced to the balcony. “I think it would do you good to get away from here for a time, and think of other things. And I could use some help when we reach the Valley, if Richard accomplishes what he thinks he will.”

“Really? I would like that.”

As the three of them lugged their gear toward the stables, three guards, Kevin, Walsh, and Bollesdun, spotted them and ran to catch up.

“We may have found them, Richard,” Kevin said.

“May have? What do you mean? Where are they?”

“Well, last night, the
Lady Sefa
set sail. We talked to people down at the docks who said they saw some women, maybe the Sisters, go aboard. Most agree they saw six women go aboard in the darkness, just before she sailed.”

“Sailed!” Richard groaned. “What is the
Lady Sefa
?”

“A ship. A big ship. They left with the tide late in the night. They have a good lead, and from what I hear, there isn’t a ship in port that can catch the
Lady Sefa
, or go as far to sea.”

“We can’t go after them, and do your other task,” Sister Verna said.

Richard shifted his pack in annoyance. “You’re right. If it’s really them, they’re gone for now, but I know where they’re going. We’ll have to deal with them later. At least the Palace of the Prophets is safe. We have more important things to tend to right now. Let’s get the horses, and be on our way.”

Kahlan ran down the dark stone corridors and through the tomblike chambers. The first rays of light splashed golden patches against the coarse, dark gray granite wall opposite the windows as she raced up an east stairway. Her heart pounded with the effort. She had not stopped running since Jebra had told her that she had spied a light in the Wizard’s Keep: that Zedd was back.

She remembered what it felt like to run with long hair; the weight of it, the way it streamed out behind, flowing with her strides. She felt none of that now. But it didn’t matter; she felt only desperate elation that Zedd was back. She had been waiting so long. She screamed his name as she ran.

Bursting into the cluttered reading room she stumbled to a panting halt. Zedd stood behind a table with books and papers scattered over it, just as she remembered it from the last time she had seen it, months ago. Candles on stands gave the small room an intimate glow. The reading room had but a single window, facing the still murky western sky.

A big man with bushy eyebrows, mostly gray hair, and a weathered, creased face looked up from a walking stick he was inspecting. Adie sat in a chair to the side, her head flitting toward sounds. Zedd cocked his head with a curious frown.

“Zedd!” She gulped air. “Oh, Zedd, I’m so relieved to see you.”

“Zedd?” He turned toward the big man. “Zedd?” The big man gave a nod. “But I like Ruben.”

“Zedd! I need your help!”

“Who be there?” Adie said from the chair.

“Adie, it’s me. Kahlan.”

“Kahlan?” She twitched her head toward Zedd. “Who be Kahlan?”

Zedd shrugged. “A pretty girl with short hair. She seems to know us.”

“What are you talking about! Zedd, I need help! Richard is in trouble! I need you!”

Zedd’s brow wrinkled in bewilderment. “Richard. I know that name. I think …”

Kahlan was frantic. “Zedd, what’s the matter! Don’t you know me? Please Zedd, I need you. Richard needs you.”

“Richard …” He rubbed his smooth chin as he stared in thought at the table. “Richard …”

“Your grandson! Dear spirits, don’t you know your own grandson!”

He stared at the table, thinking. “Grandson … I seem to remember … no, can’t say I do.”

“Zedd! Listen to me! The Sisters of the Light have him! They’ve taken him away!”

Kahlan stood silently catching her breath. Zedd’s hazel eyes rose slowly to meet her gaze. His face lost its curiosity as his eyebrows drew in to hood his glare. “The Sisters of the Light have Richard?”

Kahlan had seen wizards angry, but she had never seen a look in any wizard’s eyes like the look in Zedd’s eyes.

“Yes,” she said. She wiped her sweaty palms on her hips as she watched a crack run up the stone of the wall behind him. “They came and took him.”

Zedd put his knuckles to the table and leaned toward her. “That’s not possible. They couldn’t take him unless they got one of their cursed collars around his neck. Richard would not put a collar around his neck.”

Kahlan’s knees were beginning to tremble. “He did.”

His seething expression seemed it might ignite the very air. “Why would he put their collar around his neck, Confessor?”

“Because,” she said in a small voice, “I made him put it on.”

The candles on one of the stands close to him abruptly melted, dripping their wax to hissing puddles on the floor. The iron arms that had held the candles drooped down, like a plant needing water. The big man shrank back toward the wall of shelves.

Zedd’s voice came in a dangerous whisper. “You did what, Confessor?”

The room echoed with silence as she stood quivering. “He didn’t want to. I had to do it. I told him that he had to put it on to prove he loved me.”

Kahlan thought she felt herself hit the wall. She couldn’t understand why she was sprawled on the floor. She pushed herself up with shaking arms. She gasped as she was suddenly jerked to her feet and slammed against the wall again.

Zedd, his eyes wild, was right in front of her. “You did that to Richard!”

Kahlan’s head spun. Her own voice sounded distant. “You don’t understand. I had to. Zedd, I need your help. Richard told me to find you, and tell you what I had done. Please Zedd, help him.”

In a rage, Zedd backhanded her across the face. She skinned her hands on the stone floor as she went down. He yanked her to her feet and slammed her to the wall once more.

“I can’t help him! No one can! You fool!”

Tears ran down her face. “Why! Zedd, we have to help him!”

She brought up her arms in front of her face to ward him off when he drew his hand back again. It didn’t help. Her head smacked the wall again. The room spun. She shook all over. She had never seen a wizard in a rage so out of control. Kahlan knew he was going to kill her for what she had done to Richard.

“You fool. You treacherous fool. No one can help him now.”

“Please, Zedd. You can. Please, help him.”

“Not even I. No one can get to him. I can’t pass the Towers. Richard is lost to us. All I had left is lost.”

“What do you mean, lost to us?” With trembling fingers, she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth. She didn’t wipe the tears. “He will be back. He has to come back.”

Zedd’s eyes never left hers as he slowly shook his head. “Not while any of us are alive. The Palace of the Prophets is in a spell of time. Richard will be there for the next three hundred years while they train him. We will never see him again. He is lost to this world.”

Kahlan shook her head. “No. Dear spirits, no. That can’t be. We will see him. It can’t be true!”

“True, Mother Confessor. You have put him beyond any help. I will never again see my grandson. You will never again see him. Richard will not return to this world for another three hundred years. Because of you. Because you made him put on that collar to prove he loves you.”

He turned his back to her. Kahlan fell to her knees. “Noooo!” She beat her fists on the floor. “Dear spirits, why have you done this to me!” She cried in choking sobs. “Richard, my Richard.”

“What happened to your hair, Mother Confessor.” Zedd asked in a menacing voice, his back still to her.

Kahlan sat back on her heals. What did it matter anymore. “The Council convicted me of treason. I have been sentenced to be executed. To be beheaded. The people all cheered at the pronouncement of sentence. They all wanted to see it done. But I escaped.”

Zedd nodded. “The people shall have their wish.” He grabbed what was left of her hair in his fist and started dragging her from the room. “For what you have done, you shall be beheaded.”

“Zedd!” she screamed. “Zedd! Please, don’t do this!”

He used magic to drag her down the hall like a sack of feathers.

“Tomorrow, at the winter solstice festival, the people shall have their wish. They shall see the Mother Confessor beheaded. As First Wizard, I will see to it. I shall see it done.”

Kahlan went limp. What did it matter? The good spirits had abandoned her. They had stripped her of everything that mattered.

Worse, she herself had condemned Richard to three hundred years of the thing he feared most.

She wanted to die. Death couldn’t come fast enough for her.

Richard stood with his hands on his hips as he watched the dark clouds made by spells in the distance, in the Valley of the Lost. They looked beautiful in the sunrise, with golden edges and striations of glowing rays. But he knew they were deadly.

Du Chaillu put an affectionate hand to his arm. “My husband makes me proud this day. He returns our land to us, as the old words have foretold.”

“I’ve explained it to you a dozen times, Du Chaillu; I am not your husband. You have simply misinterpreted the old words. It only means we must do this together. And we haven’t done it yet. I wish you would have come with me without bringing everyone else. I don’t even know if this will work. We could be killed.”

She patted his arm reassuringly. “The
Caharin
his come. He can do anything. He will return our land.” She left him to his thoughts and started back to the camp. “All our people should be with us. It is their right.” She stopped and turned back. “Will we be leaving soon,
Caharin
?”

“Soon,” Richard said absently.

She started off again. “I will be with our people when you are ready for me.”

The entire Baka Ban Mana nation was camped behind them. Thousands upon thousands of tents were spread out over the hills, like mushrooms after a month of rain. He hadn’t been able to talk them out of coming, to convince them to wait, so they were all here, with him.

Richard sighed. What difference did it make? If he was wrong, and this failed, he had no reason to worry about all the Baka Ban Mana being disappointed in him. He would be dead.

Warren and Sister Verna quietly came up behind.

“Richard,” Warren said, “can we talk to you?”

Richard continued to stare out at the storms. “Of course, Warren.” He cast a glance back. “What’s on your mind?”

Warren pushed his hands up the opposite sleeves of his robes. Richard thought it made him look very wizard-like when he did that. Warren was going to some day end up being Richard’s idea of what a wizard ought to be: wise, compassionate, and charged with knowledge Richard could only wonder at. If they didn’t all die, that was.

“Well, Sister Verna and I were talking. About what happens after you get through the Valley. Richard, I know what you want to do, but we have run out of time. There never was enough time to begin with. Tomorrow is winter solstice. It can’t be done.”

“Just because you don’t know how to do something, that does not mean it can’t be done.”

“I don’t understand.”

Richard smiled at them. “You will. You will understand in a few hours.”

Warren looked away toward the Valley. He idly scratched his nose. “If you say so, Richard.”

Sister Verna said nothing. Richard was still trying to get used to her not arguing with him whenever he said something oblique. He wasn’t sure she didn’t want to.

“Warren, about the prophecy, the one about the gateway and the winter solstice. Are you sure it’s about this winter solstice?” Warren nodded. “And if there were an agent, with an open box of Orden, and the skrin, are those the only elements needed to open the gateway, to tear the veil?”

A hot breeze ruffled Warren’s hair. “Yes … but you told me Darken Rahl is dead. There is no agent.”

It sounded more like a worried question than a statement.

“Must the agent be alive?” Sister Verna asked.

Warren shifted his weight to the other foot. “Well, not in principle, I guess. If he were somehow called back into this world, but I don’t see how that could be done, but if it were done, that would be all that was needed.”

Richard sighed in frustration. “And then this spirit agent could do the things the living agent would have done?”

Suspicion crept onto Warren’s face. “Well, yes and no. It would require another element. A spirit cannot perform the physical requirements necessary to complete the covenant. He would need a coadjutor.”

“You mean the spirit could not perform certain of the tasks needed, so he would need hands that would work in this world.”

“Yes. With a helper, a spirit could do what was needed. But how could an agent be called back into this world? I don’t see how that could be accomplished.”

Sister Verna glanced away. “You had better tell him.”

Richard pulled his shirt up and showed Warren the scar. “Darken Rahl burned me with his hand, when I unintentionally called him back into this world. He said he was here to tear the veil.”

Warren’s eyes opened wide. His worried gaze darted to the Sister, and then back to Richard. “If Darken Rahl is an agent, as you said, and he has someone to help him, then we are only one element away from destruction—the skrin. We need to know.”

Richard pushed the mriswith cape back over his shoulder. “Sister Verna, would you help me?”

“What is it you would like me to do?”

“The first time you told me how to try to touch my Han, I decided to concentrate on a mental image of my sword. But that time, the first time, I used a background to put it against. It was something from the book of magic I told you about. The Book of Counted Shadows.