Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

As she glanced up at Richard, she saw him still sitting before the fire, staring at the piece of firewood he’d set beside before. She had thought that he would be more interested in looking at his sword now that he finally had it back.

Kahlan woke softly. It was a good feeling not to wake the way she had the day before with Samuel on top of her. She rubbed her eyes and saw that Richard was still sitting before the fire. He looked terrible. She couldn’t imagine what must be going through his head with the responsibilities on his shoulders, with all the people depending on him.

“I have something I’d like to give you,” he said in a quiet voice that felt so soothing to hear when she first woke.

Kahlan sat up, stretching for a moment. She saw that there was just a hint of light in the sky. They would need to be on their way soon.

“What is it?” she asked as she folded her blanket and set it aside.

“You don’t have to take it, but it would mean a great deal to me if you would.”

He finally looked away from the flames and into her eyes. “I know that you don’t know what’s going on, or even who you are, much less what you’re doing here with me. I wish more than anything in the world that I could explain it all to you. You’ve been through a nightmare and you deserve to know everything, but I just can’t tell you right now. I’m asking you to trust me.”

She looked away from his eyes. She couldn’t bear to look into those eyes of his.

“In the meantime, I’d like you to have something.”

Kahlan swallowed. “What is it?”

Richard reached around on the other side of him and pulled something out. He held it out to her in the dim firelight.

It was the statue she had before, the statue she had left in the Garden of Life when she had taken the boxes for the Sisters.

It was a carving of a woman with her back arched, her head thrown back, and her hands fisted at her sides. It was the embodiment of the spirit of defiance against forces that would subdue her. It was a carving of nobility and strength.

It was the statue she had before. It had been the most precious thing she had, and she’d had to leave it behind. This was not the same one, yet it was. She remembered every curve and turn of that one. This one was the same, but a little smaller.

She saw then the wood shavings all over the ground. He had spent the night carving it for her.

“It’s called Spirit,” he said in a voice that broke with emotion. “Would you accept it from me?”

Kahlan reverently lifted it from his hands and clutched it to her heart as she broke down in tears.

CHAPTER 58

“Before we start a war,” Richard said in a near whisper, “I need to get into the place where I hid the book. I have to get it back first, in case anything goes wrong.”

Kahlan let out a breath as she appraised the look of determination in his eyes. “All right, but I don’t like it. It just feels like a trap. Once we get in there we’re liable to be snared. We may have to fight a war to get out.”

“If we have to, we will.”

Kahlan remembered the way Richard fought with a sword—or with a broc, for that matter. But this was different.

“And if we get caught in here do you think that sword of yours is going to be any good against a witch woman who could be lurking anywhere?”

He looked away from her eyes to check the hallway again. “The world is about to end for a great many good people who love life and just want to live it. That includes you, and me. I don’t have any choice. I have to get that book.”

He leaned out to check the other direction down the dimly lit hallway. Kahlan could hear the approaching echo of boots as soldiers patrolled. So far they had been able to evade a number of them. Richard was very good at moving in dark passages and hiding in plain sight.

They pressed back into the shallow shadow of the recessed doorway, trying to make themselves as flat as possible. The four guards, talking about the women in town, rounded the nearby corner and strolled by, too eager to brag about their conquests to notice Richard and Kahlan hiding in the dark doorway. Kahlan, holding her breath, could hardly believe that they hadn’t been spotted. She kept a tight grip on the handle of her knife. As soon as the guards turned the far corner Richard grabbed her hand and pulled her after him into the hallway.

Down another dark corridor he came to an abrupt halt before a heavy door. The hasp had a lock in it.

Richard, his sword already in his hand, slipped the blade through the bar. Pressing his lips tight, he strained to twist the sword. With a muffled metallic pop the lock broke. Pieces of steel bounced across the stone floor. Kahlan winced at the sound, sure that it would bring guards running. They heard nothing.

Richard slipped in through the doorway.

“Zedd!” she heard him call in a loud whisper.

Kahlan stuck her head into the room. There were three people inside the small stone cell: an old man with disheveled white hair, a big blond-headed man, and a woman with her blond hair in the single braid of a Mord-Sith.

“Richard!” the old man shouted. “Dear spirits—you’re alive!”

Richard crossed his lips with a finger as he pulled Kahlan in behind him. He quietly shut the door. The three people looked tired and bedraggled. It looked to have been a harsh confinement.

“Keep your voice down,” Richard whispered. “There are guards all over this place.”

“How in the world did you know we were here?” the old man asked.

“I didn’t,” Richard said.

“Well, I can tell you, my boy, that we have a great many things to—”

“Zedd, be quiet and listen to me.”

The old man’s mouth snapped shut. Then he pointed. “How did you get your sword back?”

“Kahlan gave it back to me.”

Zedd’s bushy brow drew down. “You saw her?”

Richard nodded. He held out his sword. “Put your hand around the hilt.”

Zedd’s frown grew. “Why? Richard, there are a great many more important—”

“Do it!” Richard growled.

Zedd blinked at the command. He straightened and he did as Richard had told him to do.

Zedd’s gaze shot to Kahlan. A light seemed to come on in his hazel eyes as they went wide.

“Dear spirits…Kahlan.”

As Zedd stood frozen in shock, Richard held the sword out to the woman. She touched the handle. Recognition dawned in her eyes as she stared at Kahlan, who had just suddenly seemed to magically appear before her. The big man, when he touched the hilt, was no less astonished.

“I know you,” Zedd said to her. “I can see you.”

“Do you remember me?” Kahlan asked.

Zedd shook his head. “No. The sword must interrupt the ongoing nature of the Chainfire event. It can’t restore my lost memory—that’s gone—but it stops the ongoing effect. I can see you. I recognize who you are. I don’t recall you, but I know you. It’s rather like seeing a face you know but not being able to place it.”

“Same with me,” the big man said.

The woman nodded her agreement.

Zedd grabbed Richard’s sleeve. “We have to get out of here. Six will be back. We dare not get caught here and have to tangle with her. She’s more than a handful.”

Richard started across the room. “I have to get something first.”

“The book?” Zedd asked.

Richard stopped and turned back. “You saw it?”

“I should say I did. Where in the world did you ever come across such a thing?”

Richard climbed up on the chair and pulled down a pack stuffed up behind a beam. “First Wizard Baraccus—”

“From the great war? That Baraccus?”

“That’s right.” Richard hopped down from the chair. “He wrote the book and then had it hidden for me to find. He is responsible for me being born with both sides of the gift, so he wanted to help me with my abilities. He had his wife, Magda Searus, hide it afte

r he came back from the Temple of the Winds. It’s a long story, but the book has been waiting for me for three thousand years.”

Zedd appeared dumbfounded. They gathered around the table as Richard dug around in the pack until he found the book and pulled it out. He held up the book for Zedd to see.

“The problem was, at the time I was cut off from my gift, so I couldn’t read it. It just looked like blank pages. I don’t know what Baraccus wanted to tell me about my ability.”

Zedd shared a look with the other two captives. “Richard, I need to talk to you about what Baraccus left for you.”

“Yes, in a moment.”

A frown grew on Richard’s face as he thumbed through the book. “It’s still blank.” He looked up in confusion. “Zedd, it’s still blank. The block on my gift was broken—I know it was. Why would this still appear blank to me?”

Zedd laid a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Because it is blank.”

“To me. But you can read it.” He held the book open before the old man. “What does it say?”

“It’s blank,” Zedd repeated. “There is no writing at all in the book—only the title on the cover.”