Wizard's First Rule (Sword of Truth 1)

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow. For now, you are safe. Besides, it would take another quad days to get here, wouldn’t it? That will give us time to make plans.”

She gave a nod. “Thank you, Richard Cypher. My friend. But know that if I bring danger to you, I will leave before it can harm you.” She took her hand back and wiped the bottom lids of her eyes. “I am still hungry. Could we have more?”

Richard smiled. “Sure, what would you like?”

“Some more of your little treasures?”

They went b

ack to the food and ate while they waited for Michael. Richard felt better, not about the things she told him, but because at least he knew a little more, and because he had made her feel safer. Somehow he would find the answer to her problem, and he would know what was going on with the boundary. As much as he feared the answers, he would know them.

Whispers rippled through the crowd as heads turned to the far side of the room. It was Michael. Richard took Kahlan’s hand and moved to the side of the room, closer to his brother, so they could watch.

As Michael stepped up onto a platform, Richard realized why it had taken him so long to come out. He had been waiting for the sunlight to fall on that spot, so he could stand in the light and be lit in its glory for all to see.

Not only was he shorter than Richard, but heavier and softer. Sunlight lit his mop of unruly hair. His upper lip proudly displayed a mustache. He wore baggy white trousers, and his white tunic with bloused sleeves was cinched at the waist by a gold belt. Standing there in the sunlight, Michael positively gleamed, casting the same cold, eerie glow the marble did when struck by the sun. He stood out in stark relief against the shadowed background.

Richard held up his hand to catch his attention. Michael saw the hand and smiled at his brother, holding his eyes for a moment as he began speaking, before shifting his gaze to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today I accepted the position of First Councilor of Westland.” A roar went up from the room. Michael listened without moving, then thrust his arms suddenly into the air, calling for silence. He waited until every last cough died out. “The councilors from all of Westland selected me to lead us in these times of challenge because I have the courage and vision to take us into a new era. Too long we have lived looking to the past and not to the future! Too long we have chased old ghosts and been blind to new callings! Too long we have listened to those who would seek to drag us into war and ignored those who would guide us on a path to peace!”

The crowd went wild. Richard was dumbfounded. What was Michael talking about? What war? There was no one to have a war with!

Michael held up his hands again and, not waiting for quiet this time, went on. “I will not stand by while the Westland is put into peril by these traitors!” His face was red and angry. The crowd roared again, this time with fists jabbing the air. They chanted Michael’s name. Richard and Kahlan looked at each other.

“Concerned citizens have come forward to identify these cowards, these traitors. At this very moment, as we join our hearts here today in a common goal, the boundary wardens protect us while the army is rounding up these conspirators who plot against the government. They are not the common criminals you might think, but respected men in high authority!”

Murmurs swept across the assembly. Richard was stunned. Could it be true? A conspiracy? His brother hadn’t gotten where he was by not knowing what was going on. Men in high authority. That would certainly explain why Chase didn’t know anything about it.

Michael stood in the shaft of sunlight, waiting for the whispering to die down. When he began again his voice was low and warm.

“But that is past history. Today we look to our new course. One reason I was chosen as First Councilor is because being a Hartlander, I have lived my life in the shadow of the boundary. A shadow that has shaded all our lives. But that is looking to the past. The light of a new day always chases the shadows of the night away, and shows us that the shape of our fears is only the ghost of our own minds.

“We must look forward to a day when the boundary will no longer be there, for nothing lasts forever, does it? And when that day comes we must be ready to extend a hand of friendship and not a sword, as some would have us do. That only leads to the futility of war and needless dying.

“Should we be wasting our resources, preparing to do battle with a people we have been long separated from, a people who were the ancestors to many of us here? Should we be ready to do violence to our brothers and sisters simply because we don’t know them? What a waste! Our resources should be spent eliminating the real suffering around us. When the time comes, maybe not in our lifetime, but it will come, we should be ready to welcome our long-separated brothers and sisters. We must not join only the two lands, but all three! For someday, just as the boundary between Westland and the Midlands will fade away, so too will the second boundary between the Midlands and D’Hara, and all three lands shall be one! We can look to a day when we can share the joy of reunion, if we have the heart! And that joy will spread from here, today, in Hartland!

“This is why I have moved to stop those who would plunge us into war with our brothers and sisters merely because someday the boundaries will fade away. This does not mean we don’t need the army, for we can never know what real threats lie in our path to peace, but we know there is no need to invent them!”

Michael swept his hand out over the crowd. “We in this room are the future. It is your responsibility as councilors of Westland to carry the word throughout the country! Take our message of peace to the good people. They will see the truth in your hearts. Please help me. I want our children and our grandchildren to be the beneficiaries of what we lay down here today. I want us to set a course for peace to carry us into the future, so when the time comes, future generations will benefit and thank us.”

Michael stood with his head bowed and both his fists held tightly to his chest. The sunlight glowed about him. The audience was so moved that they stood in absolute silence. Richard saw men in tears, and women weeping openly. All eyes were on Michael, who stood still as stone.

Richard was stunned. He had never heard his brother speak with such conviction or eloquence. It all seemed to make such sense. After all, here he stood with a woman from across the boundary, from the Midlands, and she was already his friend.

But then, four others had tried to kill him. No, not exactly, he thought, they wanted to kill her; he was just in the way. They had offered to let him go, and it was his decision to stand and fight. He had always been fearful of those from across the boundary, but now he was friends with one, just as Michael said.

He was starting to see his brother in a new light. People had been moved by Michael’s words in a way Richard had never witnessed. Michael was pleading for peace and friendship with other peoples. What could be wrong with that?

Why did he feel so uneasy?

“And now, to the other part,” Michael continued, “to the real suffering around us. While we have worried about the boundaries that have not harmed a single one of us, many of our families, friends, and neighbors have suffered, and died. Tragic and needless deaths, in accidents with fire. Yes, that is what I said. Fire.”

People mumbled in confusion. Michael was starting to lose his bond with the crowd. He seemed to expect it; he looked from face to face, letting the confusion build, and then dramatically he thrust his hand out, his finger pointing.

At Richard.

“There!” he screamed. Everyone turned as one. Hundreds of eyes looked at Richard. “There stands my beloved brother!” Richard tried to shrink. “My beloved brother who shares with me”—he pounded a fist to his chest—“the tragedy of losing our own mother to fire! Fire took our mother from us when we were young, and left us to grow up alone, without her love and care, without her guidance. It was not some imagined enemy from across a boundary that took her, but an enemy of fire! She couldn’t be there to comfort us when we hurt, when we cried in the night. And the thing that wounds the most is that it didn’t have to be.”

Tears, glistening in the sunlight, ran down Michael’s cheeks. “I am sorry, friends, please forgive me.” He wiped the tears with a handkerchief he had handy. “It’s just that only this morning I heard of another fire that took a fine young mother and father, and left their daughter an orphan. It brought my own pain back to me and I couldn’t remain silent.” Everyone was now solidly back with him. Their tears flowed freely. A woman put her arm around Richard’s shoulder as he stood numb. She whispered how sorry she was.

“I wonder how many of you have shared the pain my brother and I live with every day. Please, those of you who have a loved one, or a friend, who has been hurt, or even killed, by fire, please, hold up your hands.” Quite a few hands went up, and there was wailing from some in the crowd.

“There, my friends,” he said hoarsely, spreading his arms wide, “there is the suffering among us. We need look no further than this room.”

Richard tried to swallow the lump in his throat as the memory of that horror came back to him. A man who had imagined their father had cheated him lost his temper and knocked a lamp off the table as Richard and his brother slept in the back bedroom. While the man dragged his father outside, beating him, his mother pulled Richard and his brother from the burning house, then ran back inside to save something, they never knew what, and was burned alive. Her screams brought the man to his senses, and he and their father tried to save her, but couldn’t. Filled with guilt and revulsion at what he had caused, the man ran off crying and yelling that he was sorry.

That, his father had told them a thousand times, was the result of a man losing his temper. Michael shrugged it off; Richard took it to heart. It had instilled in him a dread of his own anger, and whenever it threatened to come out, he choked it off.

Michael was wrong. Fire had not killed their mother; anger had.

Arms hanging limply at his side, head bowed, Michael spoke softly again. “What can we do about the danger to our families from fire?” He shook his head sadly. “I do not know, my friends.

“But, I am forming a commission on the problem, and I urge any concerned citizen to come forward with suggestions. My door always stands open. Together we can do something. Together we will do something.