Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

Richard couldn’t even blink. “And that core of the memory taken from the minds of the victims of Chainfire was taken away by Subtractive Magic. So if it still exists at all, it only exists in the underworld.”

Nicci gestured around at the High D’Haran words cut into the granite walls and on the casket. “The Book of Life, which Darken Rahl had to have read to have put the boxes of Orden in play, says that part of the process of invoking Orden is going to the underworld.”

“But what memory would Darken Rahl have recovered when he traveled to the underworld?”

“Invoking Orden requires prescribed steps. Going to the underworld is one of the steps to be performed in the sequence of invoking Orden.” She gestured to the walls. “Those steps.”

“But those references say only that going to the underworld is required. Why don’t they lay out the purpose of the journey?”

“The purpose of that journey is to recover the core of memories, but Orden doesn’t know what is necessary, or who the object of Chainfire was going to be, so it only provided for the step to be undertaken. It doesn’t say what must be done there. It is just a tool for the person trying to reverse Chainfire. It is up to them to do what is necessary when undertaking that journey.

“Berdine is the one who first showed me The Book of Life. She knew where it was because she had seen Darken Rahl using it. He went to the underworld. These inscriptions here are part of the formula for invoking the spells necessary to do that.”

“But Darken Rahl wasn’t trying to restore memories lost to Chainfire.”

Nicci shrugged. “No, he was using Orden to gain power for himself. It was up to him what he would do once he was there. He probably didn’t understand the true purpose of going to the underworld. He probably assumed that it was merely a step to be performed, a part of a complex ritual.”

Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. “Kahlan told me that he had traveled the underworld.”

Nicci again gestured to the inscriptions. “This is part of how he did it.”

“But how in the world am I to do such a thing?”

“According to this, you can’t do it by yourself. It requires a guide. Not just a guide, but a guide whom the person embarking on such a journey had to win over and who is now absolutely loyal—even in death.”

“A good spirit I can trust with my life.”

She nodded and then pointed at a place in the inscriptions. “See here? This is a spell for calling the guide from the underworld to come and take you where you must go.”

Feeling rather sick at the thought, Richard looked around at the writing. He pointed to one of the places in the High D’Haran script, then another place on a different wall. “Look here, at these references. These spells require sorcerer’s sand.”

“They certainly do. Perhaps we had better ask the crypt staff where they found that grain of it you have in your pocket.”

Overwhelmed by the things he was learning, Richard had almost forgotten why they had come down to the tomb in the first place.

“You’re right,” Richard said as he signaled Cara to bring the six people in white robes into the tomb.

The six hurried to follow after her like chicks following a mother quail. Richard waited for the covey to gather. They all peered up at him expectantly.

“You all did a great service by finding that grain of sand. Thank you for being so attentive.”

By the way they beamed, Richard didn’t think that a Lord Rahl had ever thanked them before.

He laid a hand gently on the shoulder of the one woman. “Can you show me where you found the grain of sand you brought me?”

She looked to the others and then knelt down before the gold casket in the center of the room. She pointed at the floor under one corner of the casket resting a few feet up on a pedestal. She crooked the finger at Richard.

He knelt down beside her, ducking his head under the casket when she did so. She pointed up at a corner on the bottom of the casket that was separating.

Richard rapped on the corner with the heel of his hand. Some sand poured out, the tiny grains bouncing across the white marble floor.

Richard stood in a rush. He shared a startled look with Nicci.

“Bring me your axe,” he called to one of the First File watching from the hallway just outside the room.

The man quickly dipped his head through the melted opening and rushed over to hand Richard his axe.

Richard forced the razor-sharp edge into the tight joint where the top was fitted to the rest of the casket. He wiggled the blade, forcing it in deeper. As he rocked the handle, the top began to loosen and lift.

With Nicci’s help, he raised the top off the casket. When he signaled with a tilt of his head, the crypt staff and the soldier took the weight of it from Richard and Nicci and set it aside.

The inside of the casket was filled to the brim with sorcerer’s sand.

Richard stood staring down at it a moment. Light from the torches reflected from the sand in a broad spectrum of tiny sparkles of color.

He gently brushed the sand away from the body beneath. There, embedded in the sorcerer’s sand, appeared the charred skull of Panis Rahl, his grandfather, still bearing the burns of wizard’s fire that Zedd, his other grandfather, used to destroy the tyrant. A few drops of that living fire had splashed onto the young Darken Rahl, engendering in him a burning hatred for Zedd and all who opposed the rule of the House of Rahl.

“Now I know why this place is melting,” Nicci said. “It’s a sympathetic reaction to the Subtractive Magic that was used to open one of the boxes of Orden up in the Garden of Life.”

Richard looked over at her. “So it’s a harmonic response after having been in the vicinity of that specific power.”

With the edge of a finger Nicci carefully pushed some stray grains back inside the coffin. “That’s right. This was the safest place Darken Rahl could find to store sorcerer’s sand in case he needed more. He died before ever using this here, so it was left hidden here for the last several years. But it’s still hot from the sympathetic reaction. That’s why the room started to melt. This place isn’t a proper containment field for this.”

“Don’t tell me—the Garden of Life is constructed as a containment field for such things.”

Nicci blinked at him as if he had just suggested that water was wet. “Of course.”

“Then we need to get this up to the Garden of Life.”

Nicci nodded. “Verna and her Sisters can do it, with Nathan’s help. They can get this moved for us.” Nicci took hold of his arm with a fierce urgency. “Now that we have the sorcerer’s sand in which to draw the spells, we need to get back to our studies. We may not have much time left.”

“I’m not arguing. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 49

“I don’t feel anything,” Richard said.

Sitting cross-legged on a wedge of white stone set in the otherwis

e complete ring of grass that swept in a circle around the sorcerer’s sand, he looked up at Nicci standing behind him with her arms folded, watching him draw the spells.

“You’re not supposed to feel anything. You’re constructing spells, not making love to a woman.”

“Oh. I thought I would…I don’t know…”

“Swoon?”

“No, I mean feel some connection to my gift, some kind of nervous fervor, or delirium…or something.”

Her blue eyes slowly surveyed the latest components. “Some people like to add in emotional elements when they draw spell-forms because they like to feel the rush of their heart pounding, the pit of their stomach tightening, or their skin crawling—that sort of thing—but it’s entirely unnecessary. Mere theatrics. They think they should moan and sway when they’re doing such things.”

Her eyes turned to him, an eyebrow arching with a taunting expression. “If you want, I can show you how. It might make a long night a little more entertaining.”

Richard knew she was just trying to teach him something about the reality of what he was doing by making him feel silly for interjecting the remnants of superstition into what she was trying to teach him was an exacting methodology. It was the kind of lesson that Zedd used to use, the kind of lesson that stuck, that wouldn’t be forgotten as so often happened with an equivocal response.

“Some people like to be naked every time they draw the spell-forms,” she added.

“No, thanks.” Richard cleared his throat. “I can do without moaning, or my heart racing, or my skin crawling, or being naked as I draw.”

“I thought you might feel that way. That’s why I never suggested such additions to the basics.” She gestured to the drawings in the sand. “Whether or not you feel anything, your gift contributes what is essential. The spell-forms do what they need to do as long as you give them the correct elements, in the right order, added at the right time. Don’t worry, though, there will be things you must draw naked,” she added.

Richard knew about those spell-forms. He didn’t like to dwell on them any more than necessary.