Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

Richard didn’t shrink away from the man’s glare. “I am going to win us the chance to play the emperor’s team, Commander, and then we will see what happens.”

A sly smile curved into the scales. “Hoping for your choice of a woman, Ruben?”

Richard nodded without returning the smile. “As a matter of fact I am.”

Commander Karg had no idea that Richard already knew the woman he wanted. He wanted Kahlan. He wanted her more than life itself. He intended to do what ever was necessary to get his wife away from the nightmare of captivity by Jagang and his Sisters of the Dark.

Staring down at Richard, Commander Karg finally conceded with a sigh. “I’ll tell the guards that their lives depend on no one getting at my team while they sleep.”

After the commander had vanished into the night, Richard lay back, at last letting his aching muscles relax. He watched guards in the distance rushing to set up a tight perimeter around the captive members of the team. The realization of what could be lost to nothing more than a conniving camp follower had spurred Commander Karg to action. At least the attack had served the purpose of making it possible for Richard to get the rest he needed. It wasn’t easy sleeping when anyone who wanted to could sneak up and cut your throat.

Now, at least, he was temporarily safe, even if it had been necessary to surrender the knife. He still had the other one, though, the one he’d taken from the first woman. It was tucked away in his boot.

Richard curled into a ball on the bare ground in an effort to stay warm as he tried to go to sleep. The ground had long ago lost any heat from the previous day. Without a bedroll or blanket, he was forced to bunch up the slack in the chain to make a pillow of sorts. The next sunrise was not far off. Out on the Azrith Plain it wasn’t going to be getting warmer any time soon.

Dawn would bring the first day of winter.

The noise of the camp droned on. He was so tired. Thinking about Kahlan, about the first time he’d met her, about how it had lifted his heart to at last see her alive again, about how happy it made him to look into her beautiful green eyes, finally allowed sleep to gently quiet his mind and take him.

CHAPTER 2

It was a soft, otherworldly sound, like a doorway into the world of the dead opening, that woke Richard from a deep sleep.

He looked up and saw a figure in a hooded cloak looming over him. Something about its bearing, its very presence, made the hair on the backs of his arms stand on end.

This was no timid, frail woman. Something in the demeanor told him that this was not even a knife-wielding attacker.

This was something far worse.

Richard knew without doubt that this was the third child of trouble and it had just found him.

He sat up and scooted back a little, gaining some precious distance. Somehow, Commander Karg’s guards had failed to stop the intruder. He glanced their way and saw them casually walking their patrol. As closely spaced as they were, Richard didn’t see how anyone could have gotten through their perimeter, yet this latest visitor had managed it.

The hooded figure glided closer.

The cleansing has begun.

Startled, Richard blinked. The eerie voice echoed in his mind, but he wasn’t at all sure that he had actually heard it. The words just seemed to be there, in his head.

He carefully slipped two fingers down into his boot, groping for the wooden handle of the knife. When he found it, he started drawing it out.

The cleansing has begun, the figure said again.

It wasn’t like a real voice. It was neither male nor female. The words didn’t seem to have been spoken aloud, as by a voice, but rather sounded like a thousand whispers joined together. The words seemed like they had come from another world. Richard couldn’t imagine how anything dead could speak, but the words didn’t sound at all as if they had come from anything living.

He feared to imagine just what it was that stood before him.

“Who are you?” he asked, stalling for time while he appraised the situation.

A quick glance to each side revealed no one else in plain sight; as far as he could tell the visitor had come alone. The guards were facing the other way. They were watching for anyone who might try to get at the sleeping captives; they weren’t looking inside the circle of wagons for trouble.

The figure seemed suddenly to be closer yet, within a mere arm’s length. Richard didn’t know how it had gotten that close to him. He hadn’t seen it move. He wouldn’t have allowed it to get that close if he had seen it moving toward him. And yet, it had.

Having a chain attached to his collar didn’t leave him much freedom to maneuver if he had to fight. With his fingers he carefully collected links of chain into his free hand. If he had to fight, he would loop the chain and use it as a noose. With his other hand he was still surreptitiously fishing out the knife.

Your time starts this day, Richard Rahl.

Richard’s fingers on the knife paused. It had spoken his real name. No one in the camp knew his real name. Richard’s heart hammered against his chest.

With as dark as it was, and the hood, the face inside was hidden from view. Richard could see only blackness, like death itself, staring out at him.

It crossed his mind that that just might be exactly what it was.

He reminded himself not to let his imagination get carried away. He summoned his courage.

“What did you say?”

An arm beneath the dark cloak rose toward him. He couldn’t see the hand, just the drape of the cloth over it.

Your time starts this day, Richard Rahl, the first day of winter. You have one year to complete the cleansing.

An unsettling image of something all too familiar came to mind: the boxes of Orden.

As if reading his mind, a thousand whispers of the dead spoke.

You are a new player, Richard Rahl. Because of that, the time of the play is now reset. It starts anew from this day, the first day of winter.

Until a little more than three years before, Richard had been living a peaceful life in Westland. The entire chain of events had started when his real father, Darken Rahl, had finally gotten his hands on the boxes of Orden and first put them in play. That had been on the first day of winter four years ago.

The key to telling the three boxes of Orden apart and knowing the correct box to open was The Book of Counted Shadows. Richard had memorized that book as a young man. Because he had lost his link to his gift he could no longer remember the words of the book; to be able to read or remember books of magic required magic. But while he didn’t recall the words, he did know from remembering his own actions some of the basic principles laid out in the book.

One of the most important elements of using The Book of Counted Shadows was verifying if the words Richard had memorized were spoken true—verifying if that key component to opening the boxes of Orden was genuine. The book itself stipulated the means of verification.

The means of verification was the use of a Confessor.

Kahlan was the last living Confessor.

Richard summoned his voice only with the greatest of difficulty.