Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

The Bird Man seemed to laugh without sound. “You and I are too smart for these tricks with words. Let us speak without them.” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “I have tried to tell the other elders what a wonderful thing the Seeker is doing for our people, how good it is that he is teaching us these things. They are not so sure, as they are set in their ways and can be stubborn, sometimes almost beyond my tolerance. I fear what you and the Seeker will do to my people if the elders say no.”

“Richard has given you his word that he will not harm your people.”

“Words are not as strong as a father’s blood. Or as strong as a sister’s.”

Kahlan leaned back against the wall, pulling her cloak around her, shutting out the wet breeze. “I am a Confessor because I was born so. I did not seek the power. I would have chosen otherwise, would have chosen to be like other people. But I must live with what I was given, and make the best of it. Despite what you may think of the Confessors, despite what most people think, we are here to serve the people, to serve the truth. I love all the people of the Midlands, and would give my life to protect them, to keep them free. That is all I wish to do. And yet I am alone.”

“Richard keeps his eyes on you, he watches over you, cares for you.”

She looked over out of the corner of her eye. “Richard is from Westland. He does not know what I am. If he knew . . .”

The Bird Man lifted his eyebrow at hearing this. “For one who serves the truth . . .”

“Please do not remind me. It is trouble of my own making, with consequences I must bear, and fear greatly. And that only proves my words. The Mud People live in a land distant from the other peoples. That has given them the luxury of being out of reach of trouble in the past. This trouble has long arms—it will reach you. The elders can argue against helping all they want, but they will not be able to argue against the fangs of truth. All of your people will pay the price if these few put pride before wisdom.”

The Bird Man listened carefully, respectfully. Kahlan turned to him.

“I cannot honestly say at this moment what I will do if the elders say no. It is not my wish to harm your people, but to save them from the pain I have seen. I have seen what Darken Rahl does to people. I know what he will do. If I knew I could somehow stop Rahl by killing Savidlin’s precious little boy, I would do it without hesitation, with my bare hands if need be, because as much as the doing of it would wound my heart, I know I would be saving all the other precious little children. It is a terrifying burden I carry, the burden of the warrior. You are one who has killed other men to save others, and I know you take no joy in it. Darken Rahl takes joy in it, believe me. Please, help me save your people without hurting any of them.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I want so much not to hurt anyone.”

Tenderly he drew her to him and let her sob against his shoulder. “The people of the Midlands are fortunate to have you as their warrior.”

“If we can find the thing we seek, and keep it from Darken Rahl until the first day of winter, he will die. No one else will have to be hurt. But we must have help to find it.”

“The first day of winter. Child, that is not much time. This season withers away, the next will be here soon.”

“I do not make the rules of life, honored elder. If you know the secret to stopping time, please tell me, that I might make it so.”

He sat quietly, without an answer. “I have watched you among our people before. You have always respected our wishes, never acted to bring us harm. It is the same with the Seeker. I am on your side, child, I will do my best to win over the others. I only hope my words to them will be enough. I wish my people to come to no harm.”

“It is not the Seeker or me you must fear if they say no,” she said as she lay against his shoulder, staring off at nothing in particular. “It is the one from D’Hara. He will come like a storm and destroy you. You have no chance against him. He will butcher you.”

That night in the warmth of Savidlin’s home, sitting on the floor, Kahlan told Siddin the story of the fisherman who turned into a fish and lived in the lake, cleverly stealing bait from hooks without ever being caught. It was an old story her mother had told her when she was as little as he. The wonder in his face made her remember her own excitement when she had first heard it.

Later, while Weselan cooked sweet roots, the pleasant aroma mingling with the smoke, Savidlin showed Richard how to carve proper arrow points for different animals, harden them in the coals of the cooking fire, and apply poison to their tips. Kahlan lay on a skin on the floor with Siddin curled up in a ball, snuggled asleep against her stomach as she stroked his dark hair. She had to swallow back the lump in her throat as she thought about how she had told the Bird Man she would even be willing to kill this little boy.

She wished she could take back those words. She hated that it was true, but wished she had not put words to it. Richard hadn’t seen her talking to the Bird Man, and she did not tell him of their conversation. She saw no point in worrying him—what would happen would happen. She only hoped the elders would listen to reason.

The next day was windy and exceptionally warm, with occasional periods of driving rain. By early afternoon a crowd had gathered at the spirit house as the roof was completed and a fire started in the new fireplace. Cries of excitement and wonder rose from the people when the first wisps of smoke emerged from the chimney. They peeked in the doorway to see the fire burning without filling the room with smoke. The idea of living without smoke in their eyes seemed as thrilling as living without water dripping on their heads. A wind-driven rain like this was the worst. It went right through the grass roofs.

Everyone watched with glee as water ran off the tiles of the roof and none went inside. Richard was in a good mood as he climbed down. The roof was finished, it didn’t leak, the fireplace drew well, and everyone was joyous because of what he had done for them. The men who had helped were proud of what they had accomplished, what they had learned. They acted as guides, excitedly showing off the finer points of the construction.

Ignoring the onlookers, stopping only to strap on his sword, Richard headed for the center of the village, where the elders waited under one of the open pole buildings. Kahlan fell in to his left, Savidlin to the right, intending to stand up for him. The crowd watched him go, then swept behind, spilling around the buildings, laughing and shouting. Richard’s jaw was set tight.

“Do you think you need to take the sword?” she asked.

He looked to her as he continued his long strides. He smiled crookedly. Rainwater ran from his wet, matted hair. “I am the Seeker.”

She gave him a disapproving look. “Richard, don’t play games with me. You know what I mean.”

His smile widened. “I’m hoping it will serve as a reminder of why they should do the right thing.”

Kahlan had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, that things were spinning beyond her control, that Richard was going to do something terrible if the elders turned him down. He had been working hard, from when he woke until he fell into bed, the whole time with the single thought that he would win them over. He had won over most people, but they were not the people who counted. She was afraid he hadn’t given rational thought to what he would do if the word was no.

Toffalar stood tall and proud at the center of the leaking pole structure. The rain dripping around him splashed in little puddles on the floor. Surin, Caldus, Arbrin, Breginderin, and Hajanlet stood to his sides. They each wore their coyote hides, something Kahlan had learned they did only when official events were taking place. It seemed as if the whole village was out. They spread around the open area, sitting under roofs of the open buildings, filling windows, all watching as work stopped and they waited to hear the elders speak of their future.