Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

“But it isn’t done yet,” she smiled.

Zedd gave a look of disappointment. “Not done? Are you sure? Perhaps we could check.”

“Quite sure. We’ve only just started it.”

“Not done,” he said to himself, holding an elbow with one hand, rubbing his chin with the other. “Well, we’ll just see about that. Stand back, the both of you.”

The wizard pushed the sleeves of his robes up his arms while he eyed the fire as if it were a child who had misbehaved. His skinny arms stretched out, fingers extended. Blue light sizzled around his bony hands, seeming to gather momentum. With a hiss, it shot out in a jagged blue streak, striking the cooking pot, making it jump. The blue fire cradled the pot, twisting around it, caressing it, stroking it. The stew bubbled with blue light, churned and sloshed. The wizard pulled his hands back and the blue fire sizzled out.

Zedd smiled in satisfaction. “There, now it’s done. Let’s eat!”

Kahlan kneeled, tasting the stew with a wooden spoon. “He’s right. It is done.”

“Well, don’t just stand there staring, my boy. Get some plates!”

Richard shook his head and did as he was told. Kahlan dished up a plate full, putting some dried biscuits on the side, and Richard handed it to Zedd. The old man didn’t sit, but stood next to them, by the fire, shoveling in the stew by the forkful. Kahlan spooned stew on the other two plates, and by the time she was done, Zedd was handing her his empty plate to be refilled.

Having finished one helping, Zedd was able to spare himself the time to sit. Richard sat on a small outcropping of ledge—Kahlan sat next to him, folding her legs under her—Zedd sat on the ground facing them.

Richard waited until Zedd had swallowed down half the stew on his plate, and finally allowed himself a pause before asking, “So, how did you get along with Adie? Did she take good care of you?”

Zedd looked up at him, blinking. Even in the firelight, Richard could have sworn Zedd’s face reddened. “Adie? Well we . . .” He looked at Kahlan’s puzzled face. “Well, we . . . we got along . . . fine.” He scowled at Richard. “What kind of question is that to ask?”

Richard and Kahlan glanced at each other. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “It’s just that I couldn’t help noticing that Adie is a handsome woman. And interesting. I just meant you would find her interesting.” Richard smiled a small smile to himself.

Zedd put his face back to his plate. “She’s a fine woman.” He rolled something around his plate with the end of his fork. “What is this? I’ve eaten three, and I still don’t know what it is.”

“Tava root,” Kahlan said. “Don’t you like it?”

Zed grunted. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just wanted to know what it was, that’s all.” He looked up from his plate. “Adie told me she gave you a night stone. That’s how I found you, by the night stone.” He shook his fork at Richard. “I hope you are being careful with that thing. Don’t take it out unless there is great need. Exceptionally great need. Night stones are extremely dangerous. Adie should have warned you. And I told her so!” He stabbed a tava root with his fork. “It would be best to be rid of it.”

Richard pushed at a piece of meat. “We know.”

Richard’s mind was awash with questions he wanted to ask—he didn’t know where to start. Zedd beat him to it, asking first.

“Have you two been doing as I said? Have you been staying out of trouble? What have you been doing?”

“Well,” Richard said, taking a deep breath, “we spent a good deal of time with the Mud People.”

“The Mud People?” Zedd mulled this over. “Good,” he proclaimed at last, holding a forkful of meat in the air. “You can’t get in much trouble with the Mud People.” He took the meat off the fork with his teeth and dipped it back in his plate for more stew and a bite of dried biscuit. He spoke and chewed at the same time. “So, you two had a nice stay with the Mud People.” He noticed that they weren’t saying anything, and his eyes went from one to the other. “You can’t get in much trouble with the Mud People.” It sounded like an order.

Richard glanced over at Kahlan. She dipped her biscuit in the stew. “I killed one of the elders,” she said, putting the biscuit in her mouth without looking up.

Zedd dropped his fork, then caught it in midair just before it hit the ground. “What!”

“It was self-defense,” Richard protested to her. “He was trying to kill you.”

“What?” Zedd stood with his plate, then sat back down. “Bags! Why would an elder dare to try to kill a . . .” He snapped his mouth shut, with a glance to Richard.

“Confessor,” Richard finished for him. His mood withered.

Zedd looked from one bowed head to the other. “So. You finally told him.”

Kahlan nodded. “A few days ago.”

“Just a few days ago.” Zedd grunted an acknowledgment, then ate more stew in silence, eyeing them suspiciously from time to time. “Why would an elder dare to try to kill a Confessor?”

“Well,” Richard said, “that was when we found out what a night stone could do. Just before they named us as Mud People.”

“They named you Mud People? Why?” Zedd’s eyes widened. “You took a wife!”

“Well . . . no.” Richard pulled the leather thong out of his shirt and showed Zedd the Bird Man’s whistle. “They settled for giving me this.”

Zedd gave a cursory glance to the whistle. “Why would they agree to you not . . . And why would they name you Mud People?”

“Because we asked them. We had to. It was the only way to get them to call a gathering for us.”

“What! They called a gathering for you?”

“Yes. That was just before Darken Rahl came.”

“What!” Zedd yelled again, jumping to his feet. “Darken Rahl was there! I told you—stay away from him!”

Richard looked up. “We didn’t exactly invite him.”

“He killed a lot of them,” Kahlan said in a quiet voice, still looking down at her plate, chewing slowly.

Zedd stared at the top of her head, then slowly sank back down. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “So, what did the ancestors’ spirits tell you?”

Richard gave a shrug. “That we had to go to see a witch woman.”

“Witch woman!” Zedd’s eyes narrowed. “What witch woman? Where?”

“Shota. In Agaden Reach.”

Zedd winced, almost dropping his plate, the air making a sound going through his bared, gritted teeth as he drew a sharp breath. “Shota!” He looked around as if someone might hear. He lowered his voice, directing a harsh whisper to Kahlan as he leaned closer to her. “Bags! What would possess you to guide him into Agaden Reach! You are sworn to protect him!”

“Believe me,” she said, looking him in the eye, “I did not want to do it.”

“We had to,” Richard said, coming to her defense.

Zedd cast an eye to him. “Why?”

“To find out where the box is. And we did, too, Shota told us.”

“Shota told you,” Zedd mocked, scowling at him. “And what else did she tell you? Shota tells you nothing you want to know without telling you something you don’t.”

Kahlan gave Richard a sidelong glance. He didn’t return it. “Nothing. She told us nothing else.” He held Zedd’s eyes without backing down. “She told us that Queen Milena, in Tamarang, has the last box of Orden. She told us because her life too depends on this.” Richard held Zedd’s glare. He doubted that his old friend believed him, but he didn’t want to tell him what Shota had said. How could he tell Zedd that one, or two, of them might end up being traitors? That Zedd would use wizard’s fire against him, that Kahlan would touch him with her power? He feared that maybe it would be justified—after all, he was the one who knew about the book. They didn’t.