Terry Goodkind - Stone of Tears

“Thank you, sir. I’m feeling much better now. If you could help me to my feet, I will be out of your way.”

“Lie still, child,” he said softly. “We must talk.”

With a hard glance, he moved onlookers back. Soldiers of the First File had only to see that one brief look and they were already pushing people away.

Her lip trembled as her breast rose and fell more rapidly. She managed a little nod. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“I won’t lie to you, child. Your wound is at the limit of my talents were I well rested. You don’t have the time for me to rest. If I don’t do something, you will die. If I try, I might hasten the end.”

“How long?”

“If I do nothing, maybe hours. Maybe the night. I could ease the pain enough to at least make the last of it tolerable.”

She closed her eyes as tears seeped from the corners. “I never thought I cared to live.”

“Because of the Seer’s Stone you wear?”

Her eyes snapped open. “You know? You recognize the Stone? You know what I am?”

“I do. The time is long past when people knew a Seer by the Stone, but I am old. I have seen such before. That is why you didn’t want me to help you? You fear what the touch might do to me?”

She nodded weakly. “But I find I suddenly care to live.”

Zedd patted her shoulder. “That is what I wanted to know, child. Worry not about me. I am a wizard of the First Order, not some novice.”

“First Order?” she whispered, wide-eyed. “I did not know one was left. Please, sir, do not risk yourself on the likes of me.”

Zedd smiled. “Not much of a risk, only a little pain. And my name is Zedd.”

She thought a moment; then her free hand clutched his arm. “Zedd . . . if I am to have a choice . . . I choose to try for life.”

Zedd smiled a little and stroked her cold, sweaty forehead. “Then I promise to give you my most earnest effort.” She nodded as she gripped his arm, gripped her only chance. “Is there anything you can do, Jebra, to hold aside the pain of the visions?”

She bit her lower lip and shook her head as tears sprang anew. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. “Perhaps you shouldn’t . . .”

“Hush, child,” he comforted.

Zedd took a deep breath and laid a hand over the arm that held her guts back. He put the palm of his other hand gently over her eyes. This was not something he could fix from the outside. It had to be repaired from within, with her own mind’s aid. It could kill her. And him.

He braced himself and released the barrier in his mind. The impact of pain took the wind from his lungs. He didn’t dare to spare the energy to draw a breath. He gritted his teeth and fought it with muscles hardened to stone with the strain. And he hadn’t even touched the pain of the wound yet. He had to deal with the pain of her visions, get past them, before he could cope with that problem.

Agony sucked his mind into a river of blackness. Specters of her visions swirled past. He could only guess at their meaning, but the pain of their reality was all too vivid. Tears flooded from his tightly closed eyes; his whole body shook as he struggled to fight through the torrent of anguish. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to be pulled along with it, or he would be lost, consumed.

The emotions of her visions buffeted him as he was swept deeper into her mind. Dark thoughts just beyond the surface of perception clawed at his will, trying to drag him into the depths of hopeless abandon. His own painful memories washed to the surface of his consciousness to join with Jebra’s lifetime of sorrow in a convergence of terrible agony and madness. Only his experience and resolve kept his sanity, his free will, from being pulled into the bottomless waters of bitterness and grief.

At last, he broke through to the calm, white light at the center of her being. Zedd reveled in the comparatively mild pain of her life-threatening wound. Reality could seldom match the imagination, and in the imagination, the pain was real.

All around the calm center, the cold darkness of eternal night encroached on the waning warmth and light of her life. Impatient to shroud forever Jebra’s spirit, Zedd pulled back that shroud, to let the light of his gift warm her spirit with life and vitality. The shadows receded before the power of his Additive Magic.

The strength of that magic, its exigency for the well-being of life, drew the exposed organs back to where the Creator intended them. Zedd didn’t yet dare to spare anything to block her suffering. Jebra’s back arched. She wailed in pain. He, too, felt her pain. His own abdomen flamed with the same agony she felt. He shook with the searing sharpness of it.

When the hardest, that which was beyond his comprehension, was finished, he at last spared a portion of the magic to block her pain. Jebra sagged against the floor with a moan of relief. He felt the relief in his own body.

Directing the flow of magic, Zedd finished the healing. He used his power to pull her wound together, letting tissue knit to tissue, flesh to flesh, layer upon layer, up to the surface of skin, joining as if it had never been parted.

Finished at last, Zedd had only to escape her mind. That was as dangerous as entering, and his strength was nearly gone; he had given it over to her. Rather than wasting any more time worrying about it, he released himself into the flow of agony.

Nearly an hour after he had begun, he found himself on his knees, hunched over, weeping uncontrollably. Jebra was sitting up, with her arms around him, holding his head to her shoulder. As soon as he was aware that he was back, he managed to bring himself under control and straighten. He glanced around the hall. Everyone had been pushed back a goodly distance, beyond earshot. None had any interest in being near a wizard when he was wielding magic that left people screaming as Jebra had done.

“There,” he said, at last, with a modicum of restored dignity, “that wasn’t so bad. I believe all is well now.”

Jebra laughed a quiet, shaky laugh and hugged him tight. “I was taught a wizard couldn’t heal a Seer.”

Zedd managed to get a bony finger in the air. “No ordinary wizard can, my dear. But I am Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, wizard of the First Order.”

Jebra wiped a tear from her cheek. “I have nothing of value to repay you with, except this.” She unhooked the gold chain that ran through her hair and brought it down, putting it in his hand. “Please, accept this humble offering.”

Zedd looked down at the chain with the blue stone. “That is very kind of you, Jebra Bevinvier. I’m touched.” Zedd felt a pang of guilt for having planted the impulse in her mind. “It’s a fine chain, and I will accept it in humble gratitude.” He used a thread-thin stream of power to separate the stone from its mounting. He handed the Stone back; he only needed the chain. “But the chain is payment enough. Keep your Stone; it’s yours by right.”

She closed her fingers around the Stone with a nod and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He accepted the peck with a smile.

“And now, my dear, you will need to rest. I have used a good deal of your strength to put things right. Maybe a few days of bed rest, and you will be as good as new.”

“I fear that you have not only left me healed, but also without employment. I must find work to feed myself.” She looked down at the bloody, shredded rip in her green dress. “And to clothe myself.”

“Why were you wearing the Stone, if you were the servant of the Lady Ordith?”

“Not many know what the Stone signifies. Lady Ordith didn’t. Her husband, the duke, did. He wanted my services, but his wife would never have allowed a woman in his employ, so he had me placed as her servant.