Terry Goodkind - Soul of the Fire

“She has magic in her that is a trap. If you touch her with your magic, to heal her, it will spring the magic and kill her. It was a way of making sure they killed her.”

Richard, trying to remain calm, licked his lips. “But you have the power to annul spells. When we first met, Sister Verna told me so. Du Chaillu, you can annul this spell and then I can heal her.”

Du Chaillu held his gaze in the grip of hers. “No. Listen to me. You are not listening to what is. You are hearing only what you wish to be. Listen to what is.

“This spell is the kind of magic I cannot touch with mine. I cannot make it fade away, like other magic. It is in her like a barb on a fishhook. Your magic that heals will trigger it, and you will kill her. Do you hear me, Richard? If you touch her with your magic you will kill her.”

Richard pressed a hand to his forehead. “Then what are we to do?”

“She is still alive. If she lived this long, she has a good chance. You must care for her. She must recover without magic. Once she is better, the spell will fade away, just like a hook in a fish dissolves. Before she is well, it will be gone, but she will be well enough by then so that your magic will not be needed.”

Richard nodded. “All right. Thank you, Du Chaillu. I mean that. Thank you for . . . for everything.”

She hugged him even with the baby between them.

“But we have to get out of here. The Order is going to be here any time. We have to get out of Anderith.”

“The man, Edwin, he is a good man. He has fixed a wagon for you to take Kahlan away.”

“How is she? Is she awake?”

“In and out. We feed her a little, let her drink, give her what herbs and cures we can. Richard, she is very badly hurt, but she is alive. I think she will be well again, though. I really believe that.”

Du Chaillu got up, taking her new baby with her, and led Richard to the next room. Richard was exhausted, but his heart was hammering so hard he felt wide awake again. He felt so helpless, though, that he let Du Chaillu lead him.

The curtains were drawn, and the room was dimly lit. Kahlan was lying on her back, covered most of the way with blankets.

Richard looked down at the face he knew so well but didn’t recognize. The sight took his breath. He had to struggle to stay on his feet. He struggled, too, to hold back his tears.

She was unconscious. He gently took her limp hand in his, but there was no response.

Du Chaillu went around to the other side of the bed.

Richard gestured. Du Chaillu understood, and smiled at the idea. She gently laid little baby Cara in the crook of Kahlan’s arm. The baby, still asleep, nuzzled in Kahlan’s arm.

Kahlan stirred. Her hand partly curled around the baby, and a small smile came to her lips.

The smile was the first thing Richard recognized as Kahlan.

Outside, once they gently got Kahlan situated in the special carriage Edwin had converted, they brought it out of the carriage house, into the early-morning light. A man named Linscott, once a Director and still a friend of Edwin’s, had helped make the cover for the carriage, and alter the suspension so it would ride more gently. Linscott and Edwin were part of a group that had been resisting the corrupt rule in Anderith. Unsuccessfully, it turned out. Now, at Richard’s urging, they were going to leave. There weren’t many, but some people were going to escape.

At the side of the house, in the shade of a cherry tree, Dalton Campbell was waiting for them.

Richard instantly tensed, prepared for a battle. Dalton Campbell, though, didn’t look to have any fight in him.

“Lord Rahl, I came to see you and the Mother Confessor off.”

Richard glanced over at the baffled faces of some of the others. They seemed as surprised as Richard.

“And how did you know we were here?”

The man smiled. “It’s what I do, Lord Rahl. It’s my job to know things. At least, it was.”

Linscott was looking like he was about to go for the man’s throat. Edwin, too, looked ready for blood.

Dalton didn’t seem to care. Richard signaled with a tilt of his head, and Jiaan and Du Chaillu ushered everyone else back. With the rest of the blade masters nearby, none of them seemed too concerned about this one man.

“May I say, Lord Rahl, that in another time, another place, I think we could have been friends.”

“I don’t,” Richard said.

The man shrugged. “Maybe not.” He pulled a folded blanket from under his arm. “I brought this, in case you need another to keep your wife warm.”

Richard was confused by the man, and by what he wanted. Dalton placed the blanket off to the side in the carriage. Richard figured that Dalton could have caused a lot of trouble if he intended it, so that wasn’t what he was about.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck. I hope the Mother Confessor will be well, soon. The Midlands needs her. She is a fine woman. I’m sorry I tried to have her killed.”

“What did you say?”

He looked up into Richard’s eyes. “I’m the one who sent those men. If you get your magic back, Lord Rahl, please don’t try to heal her with it. A Sister of the Dark provided a spell to kill her with the dark side of the magic, if healing is tried on what was done to her. You must let her get better on her own.”

Richard thought he should be killing the man, but for some reason, he was just standing there, staring at him as he confessed.

“If you wish to kill me, please feel free. I don’t really care.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a wife who loves you. Cherish her.”

“And your wife?”

Dalton shrugged. “Ah well, I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it.”

Richard frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“There is a nasty illness going around among the prostitutes in Fairfield. Somehow, my wife, the Sovereign, his wife, and I have acquired it. We are already coming ill. Very unfortunate. It’s an unpleasant death, I’m told.

“The poor Sovereign is weeping and inconsolable. Considering it was the one thing he feared above all else, one would think he would have been more careful in choosing his partners.

“The Dominie Dirtch, too, I’ve heard, have crumbled to dust. All our work seems to be coming undone. I expect that Emperor Jagang, when he arrives, is going to be quite displeased.”

“We can hope,” Richard said.

Dalton smiled. “Well, I’ve things to do, unless, of course, you wish to kill me.”

Richard smiled at the man.

“A wise woman told me that the people are the willing accomplices of tyranny. They make those like you possible.

“I’m going to do the worst possible thing I could do to you and your people—what my grandfather would have done to you.

“I’m going to leave you all to suffer the consequences of your own actions.”

Ann was so cramped she feared she would be crippled for life, never to walk again. The box she was in was bouncing around in the wagon something awful as it rattled over cobblestones, adding to her misery. She felt as if someone had beaten her with a club.

If she wasn’t let out soon, she was sure she would go mad.

As if in answer to the prayer, the wagon finally slowed, and then stopped. Ann sagged with blessed relief. She was near tears from the pain of hitting the sides and bottom, being unable to use her hands and feet to brace herself.

She heard the hasp being worked, and then the top opened, letting cool night air in. Ann took a thankful lungful, savoring it like a sweet perfume.

The front of the box dropped onto the bed of the wagon. Sister Alessandra was standing there, looking in. Ann peered around, but didn’t see anyone else. They were in a narrow side street that looked deserted, for the most part. One old woman walked past, but didn’t even glance their way.