Wizard's First Rule (Sword of Truth 1)

“Lord Rahl.” His voice was deep, coarse. He kept his head bowed.

“Demmin, my old friend, how good to see you again.” Rahl’s quiet tone had a clear, almost liquid quality to it.

Demmin straightened, his face set in a frown of displeasure. “Lord Rahl, Queen Milena has delivered her list of demands.”

Darken Rahl stared through the commander, as if he weren’t there, slowly wetting the tips of the first three fingers of his right hand with his tongue and then carefully stroking his lips and eyebrows with them.

“Have you brought me a boy?” Rahl asked expectantly.

“Yes, Lord Rahl. He awaits you in the Garden of Life.”

“Good.” A small smile spread across Darken Rahl’s handsome face. “Good. And he is not too old? He is still a boy?”

“Yes, Lord Rahl, he is but a boy.” Demmin looked away from Rahl’s blue eyes.

Darken Rahl’s smile widened. “You are sure, Demmin? Did you take off his pants yourself, and check?”

Demmin shifted his weight. “Yes, Lord Rahl.”

Rahl’s eyes searched the other’s face. “You didn’t touch him, did you?” His smile vanished. “He must be unsoiled.”

“No, Lord Rahl!” Demmin insisted, looking back to the Master, his eyes wide. “I would not touch your spirit guide! You have forbidden it!”

Darken Rahl again wet his fingers and smoothed his eyebrows as he took a step closer. “I know you wanted to, Demmin. Was it hard for you? Looking but not touching?” His smile came back, teasing, then melted again. “Your weakness has caused me trouble before.”

“I took care of that!” Demmin protested in his deep voice, but not too forcefully. “I had that trader, Brophy, arrested for the murder of that boy.”

“Yes,” Rahl snapped back, “and then he submitted to a Confessor, to prove his innocence.”

Demmin’s face wrinkled in frustration. “How was I to know he would do that? Who could expect a man would willingly do that?”

Rahl held up his hand. Demmin fell silent.

“You should have been more careful. You should have taken the Confessors into account. And is that job finished yet?”

“All but one,” Demmin admitted. “The quad that went after Kahlan, the Mother Confessor, failed. I had to send another.”

Darken Rahl frowned. “Confessor Kahlan is the one who took the confession of this trader, Brophy, and found him innocent, is she not?”

Demmin nodded slowly, his face contorted in anger. “She must have found help, or the quad would not have failed.”

Rahl remained silent, watching the other. At last Demmin broke the silence.

“It is but a small matter, Lord Rahl, not worthy of your time or thought.”

Darken Rahl lifted an eyebrow. “I will decide what matters are worthy of my attention.” His voice was soft, almost kind.

“Of course, Lord Rahl. Please forgive me.” Demmin didn’t need to hear an angry tone to know he was treading on dangerous ground.

Rahl licked his fingers again and rubbed them on his lips. He looked sharply back up into the other’s eyes. “Demmin, if you touched the boy, I will know.”

A bead of sweat rolled into Demmin’s eye. He tried to blink it away. “Lord Rahl,” he said in a coarse whisper, “I would gladly give my life for you. I would not touch your spirit guide. I swear.”

Darken Rahl considered Demmin Nass for a moment, then nodded. “As I said, I would know anyway. And you know what I would do to you if you ever lied to me. I can’t tolerate anyone lying to me. It’s wrong.”

“Lord Rahl,” Demmin said, anxious to change the subject, “what of Queen Milena’s demands?”

Rahl shrugged. “Tell her I agree to all her demands in return for the box.”

Demmin stared incredulously. “But Lord Rahl, you have not seen them listed.”

Rahl shrugged innocently. “Now, they are truly a matter not worthy of my time or thought.”

Demmin shifted his weight again, making the leather he wore creak. “Lord Rahl, I do not understand why you play this game with the queen. It is humiliating to be issued a list of demands. With no trouble, we could crush her like the fat toad she is. Just give me the word, allow me to issue my own demands, on your behalf. She will be made to regret not bowing down to you as she should have.”

Rahl smiled a small private smile as he studied the pockmarked face of his loyal commander. “She has a wizard, Demmin,” he whispered, his blue eyes intense.

“I know.” Demmin’s fists tightened. “Giller. You have only to ask, Lord Rahl, and I will bring you his head.”

“Demmin, why do you think Queen Milena would enlist a wizard in her service?” Demmin only shrugged, so Rahl answered his own question. “To protect the box, that is why. It is her protection too, she believes. If we kill her or the wizard, we may find he has hidden the box with magic, and then we would have to spend time finding it. So why move too quickly? For now, the easiest path is to go along with her. If she gives me any trouble, I will deal with her, and the wizard.” He walked slowly around his father’s coffin, trailing his fingers along the carved symbols as he kept his blue eyes on Demmin. “And anyway, once I have the last box, her demands will be meaningless.” He came back to the big man, stopping in front of him. “But there is another reason, my friend.”

Demmin cocked his head to the side. “Another reason?”

Darken Rahl nodded, leaned closer, and lowered his voice. “Demmin, do you kill your little boyfriends before… or after?”

Demmin leaned back a little, away from the other, hooking a thumb in his belt. He cleared his throat. At last he answered. “After.”

“And why after? Why not before?” Rahl asked, his face in a coy, questioning frown.

Demmin avoided the Master’s eyes, looked down at the floor, and shifted his weight to his other foot. Darken Rahl continued to keep his face close, watching, waiting. In a voice too low for the guards to hear, Demmin spoke.

“I like it when they squirm.”

A slow smile spread over Rahl’s face. “That is the other reason, my friend. I too enjoy it when they squirm, so to speak. I want to enjoy watching her squirm, before I kill her.” He licked the ends of his fingers again, and stroked them on his lips.

A knowing grin grew across the pockmarked face. “I will tell Queen Milena that Father Rahl has graciously agreed to her terms.”

Darken Rahl put his hand on Demmin’s muscled shoulder. “Very good, my friend. Now, show me what manner of boy you have brought me.”

Both wearing smiles, they strode toward the door. Before they reached it, Darken Rahl stopped suddenly. He spun on his heels, his robes flinging around him.

“What was that sound!” he demanded.

Except for the hiss of the torches, the crypt was as silent as the dead king. Demmin and the guards looked slowly around the chamber.

“There!” Rahl thrust out his arm.

The other three looked where he pointed. A single white rose petal sat on the floor. Darken Rahl’s face reddened, his eyes fierce. Shaking, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, his eyes filled with tears of wrath. He was too furious to speak. Regaining his composure, he held out his hand toward where the white petal lay on the cold marble floor. As if touched by a breeze, it rose into the air and floated across the room, settling in Rahl’s outstretched hand. He licked the petal, turned to one of the guards, and stuck it to the man’s forehead.

The heavily muscled guard looked back impassively. He knew what the Master wanted, and gave a single grim nod before turning and going through the door in one fluid motion, pulling his sword as he went.

Darken Rahl straightened his body, smoothed his hair and then his robes with the flats of his hands. He took a deep breath, letting his anger out with it. Frowning, his blue eyes searched up at Demmin, who stood calmly beside him.

“I ask nothing else of them. Only that they care for my father’s tomb. Their needs are seen to, they are fed and clo