Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

Kahlan remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“The future of everyone may one day depend on him,” Ann finally said. “We must put that ahead of ourselves. That is why I helped him destroy the palace. That is why I follow the man who has seemingly destroyed my life’s work: because my life’s true work is that man’s fight, not my own narrow interests.”

Kahlan hooked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “You talk about Richard as if he’s a tool newly forged for your use. He is a man who wants to do what’s right, but he has his own wants and needs, too. His life is his to live, not yours or anyone else’s to plan for him according to what you found in dusty old books.”

“You misunderstand. That is precisely his value: his instincts, his curiosity, his heart.” Ann tapped her temple. “His mind. Our aim is not to direct, but to follow, even if it is painful to tread the path down which he takes us.”

Kahlan knew the truth of that. Richard had destroyed the alliance that had joined the lands of the Midlands for thousands of years. As Mother Confessor, Kahlan presided over the council, and thus the Midlands. Under her watch as Mother Confessor, the Midlands had fallen to Richard, as Lord Rahl of D’Hara. At least the lands which had so far surrendered to him. She knew the benevolence of his actions, and the need for them, but it certainly had been a painful path to follow.

Richard’s bold action, though, was the only way of truly uniting all the lands into one force that had any hope of standing against the tyranny of the Imperial Order. Now, they trod that new path together, hand in hand, united in purpose and resolve.

Kahlan folded her arms again and leaned back against the wall, watching the stupid chickens. “If it is your intent, then, to make me feel guilty for my selfish wishes about my first day with my new husband, you have succeeded. But I can’t help it.”

Ann gently gripped Kahlan’s arm. “No, child, that is not my intent. I understand how Richard’s actions can sometimes be exasperating. I ask only that you be patient and allow him to do as he thinks he must. He is not ignoring you to be contrary, but doing as his nature demands.

“However, his love for you has the power to distract him from what he must do. You must not interfere by asking that he abandon his task when he otherwise would not.”

“I know,” Kahlan sighed. “But chickens—”

“There is something wrong with the magic.”

Kahlan frowned down at the old sorceress. “What do you mean?”

Ann shrugged. “I am not sure. Zedd and I believe we have detected a change in our magic. It is a subtle thing to endeavor to discern. Have you noticed any change in your ability?”

In a cold flash of panic, Kahlan wheeled her thoughts inward. It was hard to imagine a subtle difference in her Confessor’s magic—it simply was. The core of the power within, and her restraint on it, seemed comfortingly familiar. Although…

Kahlan recoiled from that dark curtain of conjecture.

Magic was ethereal enough as it was. Through artifice, a wizard had once gulled her into thinking her power gone, when in fact it had never left her. Believing him had nearly cost Kahlan her life. She survived only because she realized in time that she still had her power and could use it to save herself.

“No. It’s the same,” Kahlan said. “I’ve learned it’s easy to mislead yourself into believing your magic is waning. It’s probably nothing—you’re just worried, that’s all.”

“True enough, but Zedd thinks it would be wise to let Richard do as Richard does. That Richard believes, on his own, without our knowledge of magic, that there is grave trouble of some sort, lends credence to our suspicions. If true, then he is already farther in this than are we. We can but follow.”

Ann returned the gnarled hand to Kahlan’s arm. “I would ask you not to badger him with your understandable desire to have him pay court to you. I ask that you allow him to do what he must do.”

Pay court indeed. Kahlan simply wanted to hold his hand, to hug him, to kiss him, to smile at him and have him smile back.

The next day they needed to return to Aydindril. Soon the thorn of mystery over Juni’s death would be shed for more important concerns. They had Emperor Jagang and the war to worry about. She simply wished she and Richard could have one day to themselves.

“I understand.” Kahlan stared out at the clucking, churning, throng of stupid chickens. “I’ll try not to meddle.”

Ann nodded without joy at having gotten what she wanted.

Outside, in the gloom of nightfall, Cara paced. By her chafed expression, Kahlan guessed Richard had ordered the Mord-Sith to remain behind and guard his new wife. That was the one order inviolate for Cara, the one order even Kahlan could not invalidate for the woman.

“Come on,” Kahlan said as she tramped past Cara. “Let’s go see how Richard is doing in his search.”

Kahlan was discontent to find the miserable rain still coming down. If it wasn’t falling as hard as before, it was just as cold, and it wouldn’t be long before she was just as wet.

“He didn’t go that way,” Cara called out.

Kahlan turned along with Ann to see Cara still standing where she had been pacing.

Kahlan lifted a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the other house for evil spirits. “I thought he wanted to go see the rest of the chickens.”

“He started toward the other two buildings, but changed his mind.” Cara pointed. “He went off in that direction.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. He told me to remain here and wait for you.” Cara started out through the rain. “Come. I will take you to him.”

“You know where to find him?” Kahlan realized it was a foolish question before she had finished it.

“Of course. I am bonded to Lord Rahl. I always know where he is.”

Kahlan found it disquieting the way the Mord-Sith could sense Richard’s proximity, like mother hens with a chick. Kahlan was envious, too. She pressed a hand to Ann’s back, urging her along, lest they be left behind in the dark.

“How long have you and Zedd had this suspicion about something being wrong,” Kahlan whispered to the squat sorceress, only implying that she meant what Ann had told her about there being something wrong with the magic.

Ann kept her head bowed, watching where she was walking in the near darkness. “We noticed it first last night. Though it is a difficult thing to quantify, or confirm, we did a few simple tests. They did not conclusively verify our impression. It’s a bit like trying to say if you can see as far as you could yesterday.”

“You telling her about our speculation that our magic might be weakening?”

Kahlan started at the familiar voice suddenly coming from behind.

“Yes,” Ann said over her shoulder as they followed Cara around a corner, sounding as if she wasn’t at all surprised that Zedd had come up behind them. “How was the woman?”

Zedd sighed. “Despondent. I tried to calm and comfort her, but I didn’t seem to have as much luck as I thought I might.”

“Zedd,” Kahlan interrupted, “are you saying you’re sure there is trouble? That’s a serious assertion.”

“Well, no, I’m not asserting anything—”

The three of them bumped into Cara when she halted unexpectedly in the dark. Cara stood stock-still, staring off into rainy nothingness. At last, she growled under her breath and pushed at their shoulders, turning them around.

“Wrong way,” she grumbled. “Back this way.”

Cara pushed and prodded them back to the corner and then led them the other way. It was nearly impossible to see where they were going. Kahlan wiped wet hair from her face. She didn’t see anyone else out in the foul weather. In the whispering rain, with Cara out in front and Zedd and Ann carrying on a hushed conversation several paces behind, Kahlan felt alone and forlorn.

The rain and darkness must have confused Cara perceiving Richard’s location by her bond to him; she had to backtrack several times.

“

How much farther?” Kahlan asked.

“Not far” was all Cara had to offer.

As she slogged through the passageways-turned-quagmire, mud had found its way into Kahlan’s boots. She grimaced at the feel of the cold slime squeezing between her toes with each step. She dearly wished she could wash out her boots. She was cold, wet, tired, and muddy—all because Richard feared there was some stupid evil-spirit-chicken-monster on the loose.

She recalled with longing the warm bath of that morning, and wished she were there again.

Remembering Juni’s death, she reconsidered. There were worse problems than her selfish wish for warmth. If Zedd and Ann were right about the magic…