Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

“I am honored to have you in my humble home, First Wizard.”

Zedd waggled a hand. “None of that, now. We’re old acquaintances. Just Zedd would do fine by me.”

She rose. “Zedd, then. I can hardly believe the Creator has answered my prayer in so direct a manner. Oh, but how I wish my mother were still alive to see you again.”

“She, too, was a lovely woman. May the good spirits watch over her kind soul.”

Beaming, Franca took his face in both hands. “And you are as handsome as I remember.”

“Really?” Zedd straightened his shoulders. “Why, thank you, Franca. I try to take care of myself. Wash regularly, and such—with a few herbs and special oils I occasionally add in the water. I think that accounts for my skin still being so supple.”

“Oh, Zedd, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you. Thank the Creator.” She was still holding his face in her hands. Her eyes welled with tears. “I need help. Oh, First Wizard, I so desperately need your help.”

He took her hands in his. “Odd you should mention that.”

“Zedd, you helped my mother, once. Now you must help me. Please. My power has failed. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’ve consulted books of charms, spells, and bewitching. None of them have been any help. I’ve had to tie that rope atop the door to fool people and keep them wary.

“I’ve been worried sick. I’ve hardly slept. I’ve tried—”

“The chimes are loose.”

Her lashes fluttered as she stared dumbly at him. Her silent home seemed to stretch with her, to turn an ear toward him with her, to hold its breath with her.

“What did you say?”

“The chimes are loose.”

“No,” she said, appearing to be in a state of confused shock, “I don’t think that’s it. I think it may be a heating of my blood. Possibly caused by a hex placed on me by women of lesser talent but greater ambition. Jealousy, I believe it to be, along with a vengeful nature. I try not to step on people’s toes, as it were, but there have been times—”

Zedd grasped her shoulders. “Franca, I came here because I’m hoping you can help me. The Mother… my granddaughter-in-law… unintentionally set the chimes free while urgently summoning the aid of powerful magic in a final recourse to save the life of my grandson.

“I need your help. That’s why I’ve come. My gift, too, has failed. All magic is failing. The world of life is in terrible danger. I don’t need to explain to a woman of your talents the consequences of such an event. We need to see if there is anything we can do to banish the chimes. As First Wizard, I’ve come to call upon you for help.”

“Your grandson? Is he… did he survive the ordeal? Did he recover?”

“Yes. Fortunately, with the aid of the woman then to be his wife, he survived and is now well.”

She put a fingernail between her teeth for a moment, her dark-eyed gaze shifting about as she considered his words. “There is that much good in it, then, that he survived. But then in return for their help, that would mean the chimes could cross the veil.…”

Her brow puckered. “Your grandson, you say. Has he the gift?”

A thousand things at once flashed through Zedd’s mind. He answered with a simple “Yes.”

Franca smiled briefly and politely, to show she was pleased for Zedd, and then moved into action. She threw back the drapes, took hold of his arm, and steered him to a table at the rear. She opened a heavy drape over a little window in the back to let light flood across the table. The dark mahogany tabletop had a Grace inlaid in silver.

Franca graciously gestured for him to sit. While he did, she retrieved two cups. After pouring tea from a pot hung over the glowing embers in the hearth, she set one before him and then sank into a chair across from him.

She dithered before saying, “I suspect there must be more to it.”

Zedd sighed. “There is a great deal more, but time is running short.”

“Mind hitting a few of the high spots for me?”

“Well, all right, then.” Zedd took a sip of tea first. “Do you recall D’Hara?”

Her hand with the teacup paused on its way to her lips. “And how could one not recall D’Hara?”

“Yes, well, the thing is, my daughter was Richard’s—that’s my grandson, Richard—my daughter was Richard’s mother. He was fathered through a cruel act of rape.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said with sincere sympathy. “But what does that have to do with D’Hara?’

“The man who fathered him was Darken Rahl, of D’Hara.”

Her hands took on a decided tremble. She had not yet managed to get the tea to her mouth. With care, Franca set down her full cup lest she spill her tea before ever tasting it.

“Do you mean to tell me that this grandson of yours is the progeny of two lines of wizards—and is the very same Lord Rahl demanding the surrender of all lands of the Midlands?”

“Ah, well, yes, that would be him.”

“And that this grandson of yours, the Lord Rahl himself, is the same one who is going to be wedded to the Mother Confessor herself?”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Zedd said. “Quite lovely. Rather exclusive, it was, but still stylish.”

Franca put her forehead in her hand. “Dear spirits, that is a lump to swallow.”

“Oh, yes. He’s also a war wizard. I forgot—sorry. He was born with both sides of the gift.”

Her head came up. “What?”

“You know, both sides. Subtractive Magic, as well as the usual Additive. Both sides.”

“I know what ‘both sides’ means.”

“Oh.”

Franca swallowed. “Wait just a minute. The chimes… you mean it was the Mother Confessor who called them?”

“Well, she—”

The woman rose in a rush, her chair scraping against the floor. “It’s Lord Rahl who—dear spirits, the Mother Confessor herself pledged the soul of Lord Rahl—a war wizard with both sides of the gift—to the chimes?”

“It’s not as bad as all that. She had no knowledge of the spell; she didn’t do it intentionally. She’s a good person and would never deliberately do such a thing.”

“Deliberate or not, if the chimes get ahold of him—”

“I’ve sent them both off to a safe place—to where the chimes can’t get to him. We have no need fear that part of it.”

She sighed with relief. “Thank the Creator for that much.”

Zedd took another sip. “But that still leaves us without our power, and the world without magic, and possibly on the brink of ruin. Like I said, I need some help.”

Franca finally sank back into her chair when Zedd nodded toward it. He smiled and told her the tea was excellent, and that she should have some herself.

“Zedd, I think you need the Creator Himself to come help you. What do you think I can possibly do? I’m just an obscure, middling, unremarkable sorceress in a far-flung land. Why would you come to me?”

Zedd squinted. He pointed. “What are you hiding with that neck band?”

Her fingers brushed her throat. “A scar. You remember the Blood of the Fold?” Zedd nodded that he did. “Well, most every place has men like that, men who hate magic, men who think those with magic are responsible for every miserable thing that happens in their lives.”

“Yes, every place has its zealots.”

“Here, zealotry went by the name Serin Rajak. He’s the usual type: vicious and vengeful. He’s talented at expressing his delusions in a way that whips up the emotions of others and pulls them into his wicked ways.”

“So his idea of ridding the world of evil was killing you?”

“Me and those like me.”

She briefly pulled down the neck band to reveal a scar.

“He hanged me by my neck while he and his followers started to build a fire under me. He’s rather fond of burning. Thinks it purges the world of the person’s magic—keeps it from lingering after death.”

Zedd si

ghed. “It never ends. So, apparently you convinced him to leave you be.”

She smiled. “Cost him an eye, what he did to me.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”