Terry Goodkind - The Pillars of Creation

Friedrich nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He thought he might be able to learn to call Lord Rahl “Richard,” but he was almost positive that he would never be able to call this woman anything other than “Mother Confessor.” The familiar name Kahlan seemed a privilege beyond him.

Lord Rahl gestured past the Mother Confessor. “And this is our friend, Cara. Don’t let her scare you—she’ll try. Besides being a friend, first, she is a valued protector, who remains always concerned for our safety above all else.” He glanced over at her. “Although, lately, she has been causing more trouble than help.”

“Lord Rahl,” Cara growled, “I told you that wasn’t my fault. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You’re the one who touched it.”

“Well . . . how was I supposed to know!”

“I told you to leave it be, but you had to touch it.”

“I couldn’t very well just leave it, now could l?”

Friedrich didn’t understand a word of the exchange. But even in the near darkness, he could see the Mother Confessor smile and pat Cara on the shoulder.

“It’s all right, Cara,” she whispered reassuringly.

“We’ll figure something out, Cara,” Lord Rahl added in a sigh. “We still have time.” He turned suddenly solemn and switched his line of thought as swiftly as he changed direction with that sword of his. He waggled the book. “The hounds were after this.”

Friedrich eyebrows went up in astonishment. “They were?”

“Yes. You were just the treat for doing a good job.”

“How do you know?”

“Heart hounds would never attack a book. They would have fought to the death over your heart, first, had they not been sent for another reason.”

“So that’s why they’re called heart hounds,” Friedrich said.

“That’s one theory. The other is that with those big round ears, they can find their victim by the sound of their beating heart. Either way, I’ve never heard of a heart hound going for a book when a human heart was there for the taking.”

Friedrich gestured to the book. “Lord—sorry, Richard—Nathan sent me with this book. He thought it was very important. I guess he was right.”

Lord Rahl turned back from staring at the hounds sprawled across the ground. If it had not been dark, Friedrich was sure he would have seen a frown, but he certainly could hear repressed anger in the man’s voice. “Nathan thinks a lot of things are important—usually prophecies.”

“But Nathan was sure about this.”

“He always is. He’s helped me before, I don’t deny that.” Lord Rahl shook his head with determination. “But, from the beginning, prophecy has been the cause of more trouble for us than I care to think about. Heart hounds mean we suddenly have immediate, deadly danger on our hands. I don’t need Nathan’s prophecies adding to my problems. I know some people think prophecy is a gift, but I regard it as a curse best avoided.”

“I understand,” Friedrich said with a wistful smile. “My wife was a sorceress. Her gift was prophecy. She sometimes called it her curse.” His smile faltered. “I sometimes held her as she wept over some foretelling she saw, but could not change.”

Lord Rahl watched him in the awkward silence. “She’s passed away, then?”

Friedrich could only nod as he sagged under the pain of the memories.

“I’m sorry, Friedrich,” Lord Rahl said in a quiet voice.

“So am I,” the Mother Confessor whispered in sad, sincere sympathy. She turned to her husband, clasping his upper arm. “Richard, I know we don’t have time for Nathan’s prophecies, but we can hardly ignore what heart hounds mean.”

Distress sounded heavily in Lord Rahl’s sigh. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

Friedrich saw him shake his head in the dim light. “We’ll have to hope they can handle it, for now. This is more urgent. We’ll need to find Nicci, and fast. Let’s just hope she has some ideas.”

The Mother Confessor seemed to accept what he’d said as sensible. Even Cara was nodding silent agreement.

“I’ll tell you what, Friedrich,” the Mother Confessor said in a voice steady with mettle. “We were about to set up camp for the night. With the heart hounds loose, you had better stay with us until we meet up with some of our friends in a day or two and have better protection. At camp you can tell us what this is all about.”

“I’ll listen to what Nathan wants,” Lord Rahl said, “but that’s all I can promise. Nathan is a wizard; he’s going to have to solve his own problems; we have enough of our own. Let’s make camp, first, somewhere safe. I’ll at least take a look at this book—if it’s still readable. You can tell me why Nathan thinks it’s so important. Just spare me the prophecies.”

“No prophecies, Lord Rahl. In fact, the lack of prophecy is the real problem.”

Lord Rahl gestured around at the carcasses. “This is the immediate problem. We’d better find a spot down there in the swamp, surrounded by water, if we want to live to see morning. There will be more where these came from.”

Friedrich peered nervously around in the darkness. “Where do they come from?”

“The underworld,” Lord Rahl said.

Friedrich’s jaw dropped. “The underworld? But how is such a thing possible?”

“Only one way,” Lord Rahl said in a low voice filled with terrible knowledge. “Heart hounds are, in a way, the guardians of the underworld—the Keeper’s hounds. They can only be here because the veil between life and death has been breached.”

The four of them started down the path, heading toward the dark expanse of low-lying forest, as Friedrich contemplated the staggering significance of the veil between the world of life and the world of the dead being breached. The latter part of Althea’s life revolved around the Grace she used in her tellings, so he certainly knew about the veil between worlds. Over the years, Althea had often spoken to him about it. In particular, preceding her death, she had told him much of what she had come to believe about the interaction of those worlds.

“Lord Rahl,” Friedrich said, “I think what you said about the veil between the world of the living and the dead being torn might be tied in with why Nathan thought it was so vital that I reach you with this book. He doesn’t want you to help him—that’s not why he sent me with this book—he meant this to help you.”

Lord Rahl snorted a laugh. “Right. That’s the way he always puts it—that he only wants to help you.”

“But I think this is about your sister.”

Everyone froze in their tracks.

Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor spun around, hovering close to him. Even in the darkness, Friedrich could see how wide their eyes were open.

“I have a sister?” Lord Rahl whispered.

“Yes, Lord Rahl,” Friedrich said, taken by surprise that he didn’t know. “Well, a half sister, actually. She, too, is the offspring of Darken Rahl.”

Lord Rahl seized him by the upper arms. “I have a sister? Do you know anything about her?”

“Yes, Lord Rahl. A little, anyway. I’ve met her.”

“Met her! Friedrich, that’s wonderful! What’s she like? How old is she?”

“Not many years younger than you, Lord Rahl. Early twenties, I’d say.”

“Is she smart?” he asked with a grin.

“Too smart for her own good, I’m afraid.”

Lord Rahl laughed in delight. “I can’t believe it! Kahlan, isn’t that wonderful? I have a sister.”

“It doesn’t sound wonderful to me,” Cara growled before the Mother Confessor could answer. “It doesn’t sound wonderful at all!”

“Cara, how can you say that?” the Mother Confessor asked.