Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

The little dog started to growl. Rachel was getting tears in her eyes.

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Giller, I was simply asking.” Rachel could see the little black nose sticking under the robes. “Precious, what have you found there? What is it, my little Precious?”

The dog growled and gave out a little bark. Giller backed up a little, pushing her tighter to the wall. Rachel tried to think about Sara, wishing she were with her right now.

“What is it, Precious? What do you smell?”

“I’m afraid, Your Majesty, I have also been lurking about in the stables, I’m quite sure that is what your dog smells.” Giller’s hand went into his robes right by her head.

“The stables?” Her mean voice wasn’t quite gone. “What could there possibly be for you to investigate in the stables?” Rachel could hear her voice getting louder—the Queen was bending over, to get her dog. “What are you doing there, Precious?”

Rachel sucked the hem of her dress, to keep from making a noise as she shook. Giller’s hand came out of his robe. She saw a pinch of something between his thumb and finger. The dog pushed his head under the robe and started barking. Giller opened his fingers, and sparkling dust dropped down on the dog’s head. The dog started sneezing. Then Rachel saw the Queen’s hand come and pull him away.

“There, there, my little Precious. It’s all right now. Poor little thing.” Rachel could hear her kissing the dog’s nose the way she liked to do all the time—then she sneezed, too. “As you were saying, Giller? What business does a wizard have in the stables?”

“As I was saying, Your Majesty”—Giller’s voice could get kind of mean, too, but Rachel thought it was funny when it was the Queen he was sounding mean to—“if you were an assassin, and you wanted to come into a Queen’s castle and put a big fat arrow through her, do you think you would rather walk right in the main gate, bold as day? Or would you rather ride with your long bow in a wagon, hiding, maybe under some hay, or behind some sacks? Then come out in the dark of the stables.”

“Well . . . I . . . but, are there, do you think . . . have you found something . . .”

“But, since you don’t want me lurking about in the stables either, well, I’ll just scratch that off my list too! But if you don’t mind, from now on, when we are in public view I will be standing well clear of you. I don’t want to be in the way if some of your subjects choose to show their love for their Queen from afar.”

“Wizard Giller”—her voice got real nice, like when she talked to the dog—“please forgive me. I have been on edge lately, what with Father Rahl coming soon. I just want everything to go well—then we will all have what we want. I know you only have my best interest at heart. Please, do carry on, and forget the momentary foolishness of a lady.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He bowed again.

The Queen started hurrying away, down the hall, sneezing—then Rachel heard her thumping footsteps and the clinking armor stop.

“By the way, wizard Giller,” she called back, “did I tell you? A messenger came. He said Father Rahl will be here sooner than expected. Much sooner. Tomorrow in fact. He will be expecting the box, of course, to seal the alliance. Please see to it.”

Giller’s leg jerked so hard it almost knocked Rachel over. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he bowed again.

Giller waited until the Queen was gone and then pulled Rachel up with big hands around her waist and field her against his hip with an arm. His cheeks weren’t red, as they usually were—they were more white. He put his finger against her lips, and she knew he wanted her to keep quiet. He stretched his neck, looking up and down the hall again.

“Tomorrow!” he muttered to himself. “Curse the spirits, I’m not ready.”

“What’s wrong, Giller?”

“Rachel,” he whispered, his big hook nose close to hers, “is the Princess in her room right now?”

“No,” Rachel whispered back. “She went to pick out fabric for a new dress, for when Father Rahl comes to visit.”

“Do you know where the Princess keeps her key to the jewel room?”

“Yes. If she doesn’t have it with her, she keeps it in the desk. In the drawer on the side by the window.”

He started off down the hall, toward Princess Violet’s room. His feet were so quiet on the carpets that she couldn’t even hear his footsteps as he carried her. “Change of plans, child. Can you be brave for me? And Sara?”

She nodded that she could and put her arms around his neck to hold on as he walked fast. He went past all the dark wooden doors that were pointed at the tops, until he got to the biggest one, a double door set back in a little hall, with stone carving all around. That was the Princess’s room. He squeezed her tight.

“All right,” he whispered, “you go in and get the key. I’ll stay out here and stand guard.”

He set her down on the floor. “Hurry now.” He closed the door behind her.

The curtains were pulled back, letting in the sunlight, so she could see right away that the room was empty. None of the servants were cleaning or anything. The fire was burned out, and the servants hadn’t yet come and made another for tonight. The Princess’s big canopy bed was already made up. Rachel liked the bedcover with all the pretty flowers. It matched the gathered canopy and curtains. She always wondered why the Princess needed such a big bed. It was big enough for ten people. Where she came from, six girls slept together in a bed half the size of this one, and the bedcover was plain. She wondered what the Princess’s bed felt like. She had never once even sat on it.

She knew Giller wanted her to hurry, so she crossed the room, walking over the fur rug, to the polished desk with the pretty swirled wood. She put her fingers through the gold handle and slid the drawer open. It made her nervous to do it, even though she had done it before when the Princess had sent her to get the key, but she had never done it before without being told to by the Princess. The big key to the jewel room was lying in the red velvet pocket, right next to the little key to her sleeping box. She put the key in her pocket and slid the drawer closed again, making sure it was shut all the way.

As she started for the door, she looked at the corner where her sleeping box was. She knew Giller wanted her to hurry, but she ran over to the box anyway—she had to check. She crawled inside, into the dark, and went to the back corner where the blanket was pushed up in a pile. Carefully, she pulled the blanket back.

Sara looked back at her. The doll was right where she had left her.

“I have to go quick,” she whispered. “I’ll be back later.”

Rachel kissed the doll’s head and covered her back up with the blanket, hiding her in the corner so no one would find her. She knew it was trouble to bring Sara to the castle, but she couldn’t bear to leave her in the wayward pine, all alone. She knew how lonely and scary it got in the wayward pine.

Finished, she ran to the door, pulled it open a crack, and looked up at Giller’s face. He nodded to her and motioned with his hand that it was all right to come out.

“The key?”

She pulled it out of the pocket where she kept her magic fire stick, to show him. He smiled and called her a good girl. No one had ever called her a good girl before, at least not for a long time. He picked her up again and walked fast down the hall and then down the dark, narrow servants’ stairs. She could hardly ever hear his footsteps on the stone. His whiskers tickled her face. At the bottom he set her down again.

“Rachel,” he said, squatting down close to her, “listen carefully, this is very important, this is no game. We must get out of the castle, or we will both get our heads chopped off, just like Sara told you. But we must be smart about it, or we will get caught. If we run away too quickly, without doing the right things first, we will be found out. And if we are too slow, well, we just better not be too slow.”