Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

“Also living in the highlands is the gambit moth. The way it flits about makes it irresistible to warfer birds, which otherwise eat mostly seeds and berries. Living where it does, it is preyed on by few animals other than warfer birds.

“Now, the paka plant, you see, can’t reproduce by itself. Perhaps because of the poisons in the water, its outer seed casing is hard as steel and will not open, so the plant inside can’t sprout.

“Only magic can accomplish the task.”

Zedd’s eyes narrowed, his arms spread wide, and his fingers splayed with the spinning of the tale. Kahlan recalled her wide-eyed child wonder at hearing the story of the gambit moth for the first time while sitting on the knee of a wizard up in the Keep.

“The gambit moth has such magic, in the dust on its wings. When the warfer birds eat the moth, along with the berries of the paka, the magic dust from the moth works inside the birds to breach the husk of the tiny seeds. In their droppings, the warfer birds thus sow the paka seeds, and because of the singular magic of the gambit moth, the paka’s seeds can sprout.

“It is upon the paka, thus brought to leaf, that the gambit moth lays it eggs and where the new-hatched caterpillars eat and grow strong before they spin their cocoon to become gambit moths.”

“So,” Richard said, “if magic is ended, then… what are you saying? That even creatures such as a moth with magic would no longer have it, and so the paka plant would die out, and then the warfer bird would starve, and the gambit moth would in turn have no paka plant for its caterpillars to eat, so it would perish?

“Think,” the old wizard whispered, “what else would happen.”

“Well, for one thing, as the old paka plants died and no new ones grew, it would only seem logical that the water going into the Nareef Valley would become poisonous.”

“That’s right, my boy. The water would poison the animals below. The deer would die. The raccoons, the porcupines, the voles, the owls, the songbirds. And any animal that ate their carcasses: wolves, coyotes, vultures. All would die.” Zedd leaned forward, raising a finger. “Even the worms.”

Richard nodded. “Much of the livestock raised in the valley could eventually be poisoned. Much of the cropland could become tainted by the waters of the Dammar. It would be a disaster for the people and animals living in the Nareef Valley.”

“Think of what would happen when the meat from that livestock was sold,” Ann coached, “before anyone knew it was poison.”

“Or the crops,” Kahlan added.

Zedd leaned in. “And think of what more it would mean.”

Richard looked from Ann to Kahlan to Zedd. “The Dammar River flows into the Drun. If the Dammar was poison, then too would be the Drun. Everything downstream would be tainted as well.”

Zedd nodded. “And downstream is the land of Toscla. The Nareef is to Toscla as a flea is to a dog. Toscla grows great quantities of grain and other crops that feed many people of the Midlands. They send long trains of cargo wagons north to trade.”

It had been a long time since Zedd had lived in the Midlands. Toscla was an old name. It lay far to the southwest; the wilds, like a vast sea, isolated it from the rest of the Midlands. The dominant people there, now calling themselves Anders, repeatedly changed their name, and so the name of their land. What Zedd knew as Toscla was changed to Vengren, then Vendice, then Turslan, and was presently Anderith.

“Either poison grain would be sold before it was known to be such, thus poisoning countless unknowing souls,” Zedd was saying, “or the people of Toscla would find out in time, and then couldn’t sell their crops. Their livestock might soon die. The fish they harvest from the costal waters could likely be poisoned by the waters of the Drun flowing into it. The taint could find its way to the fields, killing new crops and hope for the future.

“With their livestock and fishing industries poisoned, and without crops to trade for other food, the people of Toscla could starve. People in other lands who relied on purchasing those crops in trade would fall on hard times, too, because they, in turn, then couldn’t sell their goods. With trade disrupted, and with shortages driving prices up, people everywhere in the Midlands would begin to have have trouble feeding their families.

“Civil unrest would swell on the shortages. Hunger would spread. Panic could set in. Unrest could turn to fighting as people flee to untainted land, which others already occupy. Desperation could fan the flames. All order could break down.”

“You’re just speculating,” Richard said. “You aren’t predicting such a widespread calamity, are you? If magic were to fail, might it not be that bad?”

Zedd shrugged. “Such a thing has never happened, so it’s hard to predict. It could be that the poison would be diluted by the water of the Dammar and the Drun, and it would cause no harm, or at most only a few localized problems. When the Drun flows into the sea, that much water might render the poison harmless, so fishing might not be affected. It could end up being nothing more than a minor inconvenience.”

In the dim light, Zedd’s hair reminded Kahlan of white flames. He peered with one eye at his grandson. “But,” he whispered, “were the magic of the gambit moth to fail, for all we know it could very well begin a cascade of events that would result in the end of life as we know it.”

Richard wiped a hand over his face as he contemplated how such a disaster might ripple through the Midlands.

Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “Do you begin to get the idea?” He let the uncomfortable silence drag before he added, “And that is but one small thing of magic. I could give you countless others.”

“The chimes are from the world of the dead. That would certainly fit their purpose,” Richard muttered as he raked his fingers back through his hair. “Would that mean that if magic were to fail, with the weakest dying out first, the magic of the gambit moth would be among the first to fail?”

“And how strong is the gambit moth’s magic?” Zedd spread his hands. “There is no telling. Could be among the first, or the last.”

“What about Kahlan? Would she lose her power? It’s her protection. She needs it.”

Richard was the first person to accept her as she was, to love her as she was, power and all. That, in fact, had been the undiscovered secret to her magic and the reason he had been rendered safe from its deadly nature. It was the reason they were able to share the physical essence of their love without her magic destroying him.

Zedd’s brow bunched up. “Bags, Richard, aren’t you listening? Of course she would lose her power. It’s magic. All magic would end. Hers, mine, yours. But while you and Kahlan would simply lose your magic, the world might die around you.”

Richard dragged a finger through the dirt. “I don’t know how to use my gift, so it wouldn’t mean so much to me. But it matters a great deal for others. We can’t let it happen.”

“Fortunately, it can’t happen.” Zedd tugged his sleeves straight in an emphatic gesture. “This is just a rainy-day game of ‘what if.’”

Richard drew up his knees and clasped his arms around them as he seemed to sank back into his distant silent world.

“Zedd is right,” Ann said. “This is all just speculation. The chimes are not loose. What is important, now, is Jagang.”

“If magic ended,” Kahlan asked, “wouldn’t Jagang lose his ability as a dream walker?”

“Of course,” Ann said. “But there is no reason to believe—”

“If the chimes were loosed on this world,” Richard interrupted, “how would you stop them? It’s supposed to be simple. How would you do it?”

Ann and Zedd shared a look.

Before either could answer, Richard’s head turned toward the window. He rose up and in three strides had crossed the room. He pulled aside the curtain to peer out. Gusts blew the pelting rain in against his face as he leaned out to look both ways. Lightning crackled through the murky afternoon air, and thunder stuttered after it.

Zedd leaned close to Kahlan. “Do you have any idea what’s going on in that boy’s head?”

Kahlan wet her lips. “I think I have an inkling, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Richard cocked his head, listening. Kahlan, in the silence, strained to hear anything out of the ordinary.

In the distance, she heard the terrified wail of a child.

Richard bolted for the door. “Everyone wait here.”

As one, they all rushed after him.

7

Splashing through the mud, Zedd, Ann, Cara, and Kahlan chased after Richard as he raced out into the passageways between the stuccoed walls of buildings. Kahlan had to squint to see through the downpour. The deluge was so cold it made her gasp.

Hunters, their ever-present protectors, appeared from the sweeping sheets of rain to run along beside them. The buildings flashing by were mostly single-room homes sharing at least one common wall, but sometimes as many as three. Together, they clustered into a complex maze seemingly without design.

Following right behind Richard, Ann surprised Kahlan with her swift gait. Ann didn’t look a woman designed to run, but she kept up with ease. Zedd’s bony arms pumped a swift and steady cadence. Cara, with her long legs, loped along beside Kahlan. The sprinting hunters ran with effortless grace. At the lead, Richard, his golden cape billowing out behind, was an intimidating sight; compared with the wiry hunters, he was a mountain of a man avalanching through the narrow streets.

Richard followed the meandering passageway a short distance before darting to the right at the first corner. A black and two brown goats thought the rushing procession a curiosity, as did several children in tiny courtyards planted with rape seed for the chickens. Women gaped from doorways flanked by pots of herbs.