Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

“No, and for now I won’t. Richard fears what I would do if you were to say no. I promised I would not ask until he has a chance to ask you first. I gave him my word.”

Zedd put a bony finger to his chin. “How interesting.” He laid his hand on her shoulder conspiratorially, and changed the subject. “You know, dear one, you might make a good Seeker yourself.”

“Me? A woman can be Seeker?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course. Some of the best Seekers have been women.”

“I already have an impossible job.” She frowned. “I don’t need two.”

Zedd chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Perhaps you are right. Now, it’s very late, dear one. Go to my bed in the next room and get yourself some needed sleep. I will sit with Richard.”

“No!” She shook her head and plopped down in the chair. “I don’t want to leave him for now.”

Zedd shrugged. “As you wish.” He walked behind her and patted her shoulder reassuringly. “As you wish.” He gently reached up and put a middle finger to each of her temples, rubbing in little circles. She moaned softly as her eyes closed. “Sleep, dear one,” he whispered, “sleep.” She folded her arms down onto the edge of the bed, and her head sank onto her arms. She was deeply asleep. After he put a blanket over her, Zedd went to the front room and pulled open the door, looking out into the night.

“Cat! Come here, I want you.” The cat came running in and rubbed himself against Zedd’s legs, swishing his tail up. Zedd bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “Go in and sleep on the young woman’s lap. Keep her warm.” The cat padded off to the bedroom as the old man stepped out into the cold night air.

The wind whipped Zedd’s robes as he walked the narrow path through the tall grass. The clouds were thin, illuminated by the moon, which gave enough light to see by, even though he didn’t need it—he had walked the same route thousands of times.

“Nothing is ever easy,” he muttered as he went.

Near a stand of trees he stopped, listening. Slowly, he turned about, peering into the shadows, watching the branches bend and sway in the breeze, testing the air with his nose. He searched for an alien movement.

A fly bit his neck. He swatted it angrily, picked the offender off his neck, and glared at it. “Blood fly. Bags. I thought as much,” he complained.

From the brush near by, something came toward him in a terrible rush. Wings and fur and teeth came charging. Hands on his hips, Zedd waited. Just before it was on him, he held up his hand, bringing the short-tailed gar to a lurching halt. It was half again as tall as he, full grown, and twice as fierce as a long-tailed gar. The beast growled and blinked, its great muscles flexing as it fought against the force that kept it from reaching out and grabbing the old man. It was furious that it had not yet killed him.

Zedd reached up and with a crooked finger beckoned it to lean closer. The gar, panting in rage, bent toward him. Zedd jammed his finger hard under its chin.

“What is your name?” he hissed. The beast grunted twice and made a sound from deep in its throat. Zedd gave a nod. “I will remember it. Tell me, do you wish to live, or to die?” The gar struggled to back away, but was unable to. “Good. Then you will do exactly as I say. Somewhere between here and D’Hara, a quad comes this way. Hunt them and kill them. When you have done so, go back to D’Hara, to where you came from. Do these things and I will let you live, but I will remember your name, and if you fail to kill the quad, or ever come back after your task is done, I will kill you and feed you to your flies. Do you agree to my terms?” The gar grunted an acknowledgment. “Good. Then be gone.” Zedd removed his finger from under the gar’s chin.

Scrambling to get away, the beast flapped its wings frantically, beating down the grass as it stumbled along. At last the gar was airborne. Zedd watched it as it circled, searching for the quad. As the hunt moved steadily east, the circles seemed to get smaller until the old man could no longer see the beast. Only then did he continue on to the top of the hill.

Standing next to his cloud rock, Zedd pointed down at it and began turning his bony finger in a circle as if stirring a stew. The massive rock grated against the ground as it tried to revolve with the movement of Zedd’s finger. The rock shuddered, trying to rotate its own weight. Popping and snapping, it fractured, sending hairline cracks shooting across its surface. Its trembling bulk struggled against the force being applied. The granular structure of the stone began to soften. Unable to maintain its state any longer, the texture of the rock liquefied enough to allow its mass to rotate with the movement of the finger above it. Gradually the speed of Zedd’s stirring increased until light erupted from the rotating liquid rock.

The light built in intensity with the speed of Zedd’s hand. As colors and sparkles of light spun, shadows and forms came into the center of the light and vanished as the fog of brightness increased. Light threatened to ignite the air about him. A dull roar, like the sound of wind rushing through a fissure, came forth. The smells of autumn changed to winter clarity, then spring’s new plowed ground, summer’s flowers, and back to autumn again. Clean, pure illumination chased the colors and sparkles away.

The rock abruptly solidified and Zedd stepped atop it, into the light. The brightness faded to a faint glow that swirled like smoke. Before him stood two apparitions, mere shadows of form. Where sharpness should have been, their shapes softened like a dim memory, yet they were still recognizable, and the sight of them brought a quickness to Zedd’s heart.

His mother’s voice came hollow and distant. “What troubles you, son? Why have you called us after so many years?” Her arms stretched out to him.

Zedd’s arms reached out, but could not touch her. “I am troubled by what the Mother Confessor tells me.”

“She speaks the truth.”

He closed his eyes and nodded as his arms lowered with hers. “It’s true, then, all my students, save Giller, are dead.”

“You are the only one left to protect the Mother Confessor.” She drifted closer. “You must appoint the Seeker.”

“The High Council sowed these seeds,” he protested, frowning. “Now you want me to help? They turned my advice away. Let them live and die by their own greed.”

Zedd’s father floated closer. “My son, why were you angry with your students?”

Zedd scowled. “Because they put themselves before their duty to help their people.”

“I see. And how is this different from what you do now?” The echo of his voice hung in the air.

Zedd’s fists tightened. “My help was offered, but turned away.”

“And when has it not been so, that there would be those who were blind, or foolish, or greedy? Would you let them have their way over you so easily? Would you let them so simply prevent you from helping those who would be helped? Your abandonment of the people may have a reason that seems just to you, unlike the actions of your students, but the results are the same. In the end they saw their mistake, and did the right things, the things you taught them. Learn from your students, son.”

“Zeddicus,” his mother said, “would you let Richard die too, and all the other innocents? Appoint the Seeker.”

“He’s too young.”

She shook her head with a gentle smile. “He will not get the chance to grow older.”

“He has not passed my final test.”

“Darken Rahl hunts Richard. The cloud that shadows him was sent by Rahl to track him. The snake vine was put in the jar by Darken Rahl, in the expectation that Richard would search for it, and it would bite him. The snake vine wasn’t meant to kill—Rahl sought to have him put to sleep by the fever until he could come for him.” Her form drifted closer, her voice becoming more loving. “You know in your heart you have been watching him, hoping he would show himself to be the one.”