Terry Goodkind - Stone of Tears

As she put her hand to the newel post, Zedd put his over it, stopping her. “Mother Confessor, it does not have to be him. You can surely find one more suited to your likes.”

“It makes no difference. I have already touched him with my power. Why harm another, for no more than this?”

“Kahlan, I’m not saying it has to be now. Not this soon. I am saying only that you must come to accept it, and at some point it must be.”

“Today, tomorrow, next year. What does it matter? It will be the same in ten years as it is today. Wizards have been using the Confessors for thousands of years. Why should I be any different? I may as well get it over so you will be content.”

His watery gaze stayed on hers. “Kahlan, it’s not like that. This is the hope of life.”

She felt a tear roll down her cheek. She could see the pain in his eyes, but she showed him no mercy for it.

“Call it what you will. That does not change what it is. It is rape. My enemies could not accomplish it; it took my friends to rape me.”

“I know, dear one. How well I know.”

She started up the stairs again, but his hand on her arm stopped her.

“Kahlan, please, do just one thing for me first? Go for a little walk to think things over, and ask the spirits for guidance. Pray to the good spirits, seek their direction.”

“I have nothing to say to the good spirits. It is they who wish this; they have sent you, to give me ‘guidance.’ ”

His thin hand stroked her short-cropped hair. “Then do it for Richard.”

She stood staring at him. Finally, she glanced out the back door, to the small, frozen garden at the back of the inn. It was just dusk outside.

Kahlan stepped down. “For Richard.”

Richard sat in Kahlan’s tall chair, stroking the long locks of her hair. He had pulled them out of his shirt, not wanting to stab himself through her hair. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, touching her hair, lost in memories of her, but he noticed it was just turning dark out the windows.

Richard laid the hair carefully over the arm of the chair, and picked up the knife once more. In a daze of anguish, he put the point to his heart. His knuckles were white around the handle.

It was time.

At last it was going to be over. The pain would end.

His brow creased. What was it Mistress Sanderholt had said? Kahlan had told her of him? He wondered if Kahlan had told Mistress Sanderholt anything else. Maybe a last message for him, before she died. What could it hurt to ask? He could die, then.

Richard pulled Mistress Sanderholt from her kitchen, into a small pantry lined with stores. He closed the door.

“What have you done, Richard?”

“I killed her murderers.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry about that. Those men did not belong on the council. Let me get you something to eat?”

“No. I don’t want anything. Mistress Sanderholt, you said Kahlan told you of me. Is that right?”

She didn’t look like she wished to dredge up the memories, but at last she took a deep breath and nodded. “She came home, but things had changed here. Kelton had . . .”

“I don’t care what happened here, just tell me about Kahlan.”

“Prince Fyren was murdered. She was convicted, wrongly, of that crime and a whole list of others, including treason. The wizard in charge sentenced her to be . . . executed.”

“Beheaded,” Richard said.

She gave a reluctant nod. “She escaped, with the help of some of her friends, killing the wizard in so doing, then went into hiding. But she got word to me, and I visited her. At those visits, she told me of all the things she had been through. She told me all about you. She liked to talk of no thing more.”

“Why didn’t she escape? Why didn’t she run?”

“She said she had to wait for a wizard named Zedd. To help you.”

Richard’s eyes closed as pain tightened in his chest. “And so they caught her while she waited.”

“No. That’s not how it happened.” Richard stared at the grain patterns on the wood floor while she went on. “The wizard she waited for returned. He is the one who turned her in.”

Richard’s head came up. “What? Zedd came here? Zedd wouldn’t turn Kahlan over to be executed.”

Her back stiffened. “Turn her in he did. He stood on the platform before the cheering crowd and ordered it done. I watched as that vile man gave the nod to the axeman.”

Richard’s mind spun in confusion. “Zedd? A skinny, old man, with long, wavy, white hair sticking out in every direction?”

“That is he. First Wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.”

For the first time, a spark of hope ignited in him. He didn’t know everything about Zedd, but he did know him capable of similar things. Could it be?

He grabbed her by her shoulders. “Where is she buried?”

Mistress Sanderholt took him out into the dusk, to the secluded courtyard where Confessors were buried. She told him that Kahlan’s body had been burned in a funeral pyre, supervised by the First Wizard. Then she left him to be alone with the immense marker stone over her ashes.

Richard ran his fingers over the letters carved in the gray granite.

KAHLAN AMNELL.

MOTHER CONFESSOR.

SHE IS NOT HERE, BUT IN THE HEARTS OF THOSE WHO LOVED HER.

“She is not here,” he said aloud, quoting from the marker. Could it be a message? Could she be alive? Had it been a trick by Zedd to save her life? Why would he do it? Maybe, maybe, to keep them from chasing after her.

Richard fell to his knees in the snow before the monument. Dare he hope, just to have his hopes crushed?

He put his trembling hands together and bowed his head.

“Dear spirits, I know I have done wicked things, but I have always tried to do right. I have fought to help people and to uphold your principles of honesty and right.

“Please, dear spirits, help me.

“I’ve never prayed to you in earnest for anything before. Not like this. I’ve never meant anything like this before. Please, if you never again help me, help me this one time.

“Please, dear spirits, I can’t go on if I don’t know. I’ve given up everything to see right done. Please grant me this. Let me know if she is alive.”

His head hanging, tears dripping from his face, he saw flickers of light on the ground before him.

Richard looked up. A glowing spirit towered over him.

When he recognized who it was, he went rigid.

Kahlan had walked around the garden countless times. Part of her hesitation was dread that she might be granted confirmation of her fear. Finally, she she knelt down and folded her hands together on a rock before her. She bowed her head.

“Dear spirits, I know I am not worthy, but please grant this. I must know if Richard is all right. If he still loves me.”

She swallowed back the burning sensation in her throat. “I must know if I will ever see him again.

“I have been disrespectful, I know, and I have no excuse but my own failing as a good person. If you grant me this, I will do whatever the good spirits require of me.

“But please, dear spirits, I must know if I will ever see my Richard again.”

Her head hung as he cried. Tears dripped from her face. Before her, on the ground, flickers of light danced.

Kahlan looked up, into the face of the glowing spirit towering over her. She felt the warmth of the calm smile from the face she knew.

Slowly, involuntarily, Kahlan rose to her feet.

“Is it really . . . you?”

“Yes, Kahlan, it is I, Denna.”

“But . . . you went to the Keeper. You took the mark Darken Rahl put on Richard. You went to the Keeper in Richard’s place.”

The glowing smile of peace swelled Kahlan’s heart with joy.