Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

Zedd’s wavy white hair looked more disheveled than usual. In the dim light his wrinkles weren’t so distinct, but he somehow still looked a very old man at that moment.

“Ann and I… are just feeling a little tired out, that’s all. We’ve been…”

He brought a hand out from under the blanket and gestured at the garden of designs sown across the floor. Cara’s leather was tighter than the skin stretched over his bones.

“Tell him,” Ann said into the dragging silence, “or I will.”

“Tell me what? What’s going on?”

Zedd rested his bony hand on Richard’s muscular thigh and took a few labored breaths.

“You know that talk we had? Our ‘what if’ talk… about magic going away?”

“Of course.”

“It’s begun.”

Richard’s eyes widened. “It is the chimes, then.”

“No,” Ann said. “The Sisters of the Dark.” She wiped sweat from her eyes. “In conjuring a spell to bring the… the chicken thing…”

“The Lurk,” Zedd said, helping her. “In conjuring the Lurk, they have either intentionally or accidentally begun a runaway degeneration of magic.”

“It wouldn’t be accidental,” Richard said. “They would intend this. At least Jagang would, and the Sisters of the Dark do his bidding.”

Zedd nodded, letting his eyes close. “I’m sure you’re right, my boy.”

“You weren’t able to stop it, then?” Kahlan asked. “You made it sound as if you would be able to counter it.”

“The verification webs we cast have cost us dearly.” Ann sounded as bitter as Kahlan would have been in her place. “Used up our strength.”

Zedd lifted his arm, and then let it flop back down to rest again on Richard’s thigh. “Because of who we are, because we have more power and ability than others, the taint of this atrophy is affecting us first.”

Kahlan frowned. “You said it would start with the weakest.”

Ann simply rolled her head from side to side.

“Why isn’t it affecting us?” Richard asked. “Kahlan has a lot of magic—with her Confessor power. And I have the gift.”

Zedd lifted his hand to give a sickly wave. “No, no. Not the way it works. It starts with us. With me, more than Ann.”

“Don’t mislead them,” Ann said. “This is too important.” Her voice gathered a little strength as she went on. “Richard, Kahlan’s power will soon fail. So will yours, though you don’t depend on it as do we, or she, so it won’t matter so much to you.”

“Kahlan will lose her Confessor’s power,” Zedd confirmed, “as will everyone of magic. Every thing of magic. She will be defenseless and must be protected.”

“I’m hardly defenseless,” Kahlan objected.

“But there has to be a way for you to counter it. You said last night that you were not without resources of your own.” Richard’s fists tightened. “You said you could counter it. You must be able to do something!”

Ann lifted an arm to weakly whack at the top of Zedd’s head. “Would you please tell him, old man? Before you give the boy apoplexy and he is of no help to us?”

Richard leaned forward. “I can help? What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Zedd managed a feeble smile. “I always could count on you, Richard. Always could.”

“What can we do?” Kahlan asked. “You can count on us both.”

“You see, we know what to do, but we can’t manage it alone.”

“Then we’ll help you,” Richard insisted. “What do you need?”

Zedd struggled to take a breath. “In the Keep.”

Kahlan felt a surge of hope. The sliph would spare them weeks of travel over land. In the sliph she and Richard could get to the Keep in less than a day.

Seeming nearly insensate, Zedd’s breath wheezed out. In frustration, Richard pressed his own temples between thumb and second finger of one hand. He took a deep breath. He dropped the hand to Zedd’s shoulder and jostled gently.

“Zedd? What is it we can do to help? What about the Wizard’s Keep? What’s in the Keep?”

The old wizard swallowed lethargically. “In the Keep. Yes.”

Richard took another shaky breath, trying to preserve calm and reassurance in his own voice. “All right. In the Keep. I understand that much. What is it you need to tell me about the Keep, Zedd?”

Zedd’s tongue worked at wetting the roof of his mouth.

“Water.”

Kahlan put a hand on Richard’s shoulder, almost as if to keep him from springing up and bouncing off the ceiling. “I’ll get it.”

Nissel met her at the doorway but instead of the water Kahlan requested, handed her a warm cup. “Give him this. I have just finished making it. It is better than water. It will give him strength.”

“Thank you, Nissel.”

Kahlan hurried the cup to Zedd’s lips. He gulped a few swallows. Kahlan offered the cup to Ann, and she finished it. Nissel leaned over Kahlan’s shoulder to hand her a piece of tava bread spread with something that looked like honey and carried a faint smell of mint, as if laced with a curative. Nissel whispered to Kahlan to get them to eat some.

“Here, Zedd,” Kahlan said, “have a bite of tava with honey.”

Holding up his hand, Zedd blocked the proffered food from from his mouth. “Maybe later.”

Kahlan and Richard glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes. It was nearly unheard of for Zedd to refuse food. Cara must have taken her belief that it wasn’t serious from the calm Nissel. While the old healer seemed unruffled by the condition of the two on the floor, Richard and Kahlan’s concern was mounting by the moment.

“Zedd,” Richard prompted, now that his grandfather had had a drink, “what about the Keep?”

Zedd opened his eyes. Kahlan thought them a bit brighter, the hazel color more limpid, less cloudy. He sluggishly grasped Richard’s wrist.

“I think the tea is helping. More.”

Kahlan twisted to the old woman. “He says the tea is helping. He would like more.”

Pulling her head back, Nissel made a face. “Of course it helps. Why does he think I make it?”

She shook her head at such foolishness and shuffled off to the outer room to retrieve more tea. Kahlan was sure it wasn’t her imagination that Zedd seemed just the tiniest bit more alert.

“Listen closely, my boy.” He lifted a finger for emphasis. “In the Keep, there is a spell of great power. A sort of bottled antidote to the taint wafting through the world of life.”

“And you need it?” Richard guessed.

Ann, too, looked to have been helped by the tea. “We tried to cast the counterspells, but our power has already deteriorated too much. We did not discover what was happening soon enough.”

“But the vaporous spell in that bottle will do to the taint as the taint does to us,” Zedd drawled.

“And thereby equalize the power so you can cast the counterspell and eliminate it,” Richard impatiently finished in a rush.

“Yes,” Zedd and Ann said as one.

Kahlan smiled eagerly. “It’s not a problem, then. We can get the bottle for you.”

Richard grinned his zeal. “We can get to the Keep through the sliph. We can retrieve this bottled spell of yours and be back with it in no time, almost.”

Ann covered her eyes with a hand as she muttered a curse. “Zedd, did you never teach this boy anything?”

Richard’s grin gave out. “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Nissel shuffled in carrying two clay cups of tea. She handed one to Kahlan and one to Richard. “Make them drink it all.”

“Nissel says you must drink this down,” Kahlan told them.

Ann sipped when Kahlan held the cup to her lips. Zedd wrinkled his nose, but then had to start swallowing as Richard poured the tea down his grandfather’s gullet. Balking and coughing, he was forced to gulp it all or drown.

“Now, what’s the problem with us getting this

spell thing from the Keep?” Richard asked as his grandfather caught his breath.

“First of all,” Zedd managed between gasps, “you don’t need to bring it here. You must only break the bottle. The spell will be released. It doesn’t need direction—it’s already created.”