Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  “But then how am I to get us to the Midlands? I can’t help if I can’t get to the Midlands.” Zedd’s voice was tense with frustration.

  “We’re sorry, but we don’t know. We believe there must be a way, but it is not known to us. That is why you must appoint the Seeker. If he is the right one, he will find a way.” Their forms began to shimmer, to fade.

  “Wait! I must have the answers to my questions! Please, don’t leave me!”

  “We’re sorry, it is not our choice, we are called back behind the veil.”

  “Why is Rahl after Richard? Please help me.”

  His father’s voice was weak and distant. “We don’t know. You must search for the answers yourself. We have trained you well. You are more talented than we ever were. Use what you were taught and what you feel. We love you, son. Until this is settled, one way or the other, we cannot come to you again. With Orden in play, coming again could tear the veil.”

  His mother kissed her hand and held it out to him as he did the same in return, and then they were gone.

  Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, the great and honorable wizard, stood alone on the wizard’s rock his father had given him, and stared out into the night, thinking wizard’s thoughts.

  “Nothing is ever easy,” he whispered.

  8

  Richard came awake with a start. Warm midday light filled the room, and the wonderful, tangy aroma of spice soup filled his lungs. He was in his room at Zedd’s house. He looked up at the familiar knots in the wood walls, and the faces he always made them into in his mind stared back. The door to the front room stood shut. A chair waited next to the bed, empty. He sat up, pushing the covers down, and saw that he still wore his dirty clothes. He felt for the tooth under his shirt and sighed in relief when he found it still there, safe. A short stick held the window open a few inches, letting in fresh air and the sound of Kahlan’s laughter. Zedd must be telling stories, he thought. Richard looked at his left hand. It was wrapped but no longer sore when he flexed his fingers. His head didn’t hurt anymore, either. In fact, he felt wonderful. Hungry, but wonderful. He amended that to dirty, in filthy clothes, and hungry, but wonderful.

  A tub of bathwater, soap, and clean towels sat in the center of the small room. A clean outfit of his forest garb was folded and stacked neatly on the chair. The bathwater looked deliciously inviting. He dipped his hand in and found the water warm. Zedd must have known when he would wake. Knowing Zedd as well as he did, that didn’t surprise him.

  Richard undressed and slipped into the welcoming water. The soap smelled almost as good to him as the soup. He liked to stay in the tub for a good long soak, but he felt too wide awake for soaking, and was eager to be outside with the other two. Unwrapping the hand, he was surprised to find how much it had healed overnight.

  When he came out, Kahlan and Zedd were sitting at the table waiting for him. Kahlan’s dress was freshly washed, he noticed, and she looked bathed, too. Her hair was clean and glistened in the sunlight. Green eyes sparkled up at him. A big bowl of soup waited for him next to her at the table, along with cheese and fresh bread.

  “I wouldn’t have expected to have slept until noon,” he said, swinging his leg over the bench. They both laughed. Richard eyed them suspiciously.

  Kahlan straightened her face. “This is the second noon you have slept to, Richard.”

  “Yes,” Zedd added, “you slept right through the first. How do you feel? How is your hand?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, Zedd, for helping me. Thank you both.” He opened and closed his fingers to show them the improvement. “The hand feels much better, except it itches.”

  “My mother always said that if it itched, that meant it was getting better.”

  Richard grinned at her. “Mine too.” He fished a piece of potato and a mushroom into his spoon and tasted it. “It’s as good as mine,” he said to her earnestly.

  She sat crosswise on the bench, facing toward him, her elbow resting on the table with the side of her jaw nestled in the heel of her hand. She gave him a knowing smile. “Zedd tells it differently.”

  Richard cast a reproachful eye at Zedd, who looked up at the sky in an exaggerated manner. “Does he now? I will have to remind him of that the next time he is begging me to make it for him.”

  “Frankly,” she said in a low voice, but not low enough that Zedd couldn’t hear, “from what I’ve seen, I think he would eat dirt if someone else dished it up for him.”

  Richard laughed. “I see you’ve gotten to know him well.”

  “I tell you, Richard,” the old man said, pointing a bony finger, not about to let them get the best of him, “she could make dirt taste good. You would do well to take lessons from her.”

  Richard broke off a piece of bread and dunked it in the soup. He knew the joking was a release for the tension he sensed, a way to pass the time while they both waited for him to finish. Kahlan had given Richard her word that she would wait for him to ask Zedd’s help; it was apparent that she had kept her word. And Zedd’s way was to play ignorant and innocent, and wait for you to ask something first so he could better judge what you already knew. This day, Richard could not allow any of his games. This day, things were different.

  “There is one thing I don’t trust about her, though.” Zedd’s tone was dark, menacing.

  Richard froze in mid-chew. He swallowed and waited, not daring to look at either of them, while the other paused.

  “She doesn’t like cheese! I don’t think I could ever trust anyone who doesn’t like cheese. It’s not natural.”

  Richard relaxed. Zedd was just twiddling with his mind, as he always called it. His old friend seemed to have a knack for catching him off guard, and he delighted in it. Richard stole a glance at Zedd to see him sitting there with an innocent smile on his face. Richard smiled, too, in spite of himself. While he relished the bowl of soup, Zedd nibbled on a piece of cheese to make his point. Kahlan nibbled on a piece of bread to make hers. The bread tasted delicious. Kahlan was pleased when he pointed it out.

  As Richard neared the end of his meal he decided it was time to change the tone of things back to business. “The next quad? Has there been any sign?”

  “No. I was worried, but Zedd did a cloud reading for me and said it appeared they must have run into trouble of some kind, since they were nowhere to be found.”

  He gave Zedd a sideways glance. “Is that true?”

  “True as toasted toads.” Zedd had used the expression since Richard was young, to win him over with humor and let him know he could always trust the old man to be truthful with him above all else. Richard wondered what sort of trouble a quad could “run into.”

  For better or worse, he had succeeded in changing the mood at the table. He felt Kahlan’s impatience for him to get on with it, and he sensed impatience in Zedd, too. Kahlan turned back to the table and put both hands in her lap, waiting. Richard feared that if he didn’t handle things properly, she would do whatever it was she was here to do, and he would have no control over it.

  Richard finished his meal and pushed the bowl away with his thumbs, at the same time meeting Zedd’s eyes. His friend’s humor was gone, but otherwise he showed nothing of what he was thinking. He simply waited. It was Richard’s turn now, and once he began there could be no going back.

  “Zedd, my friend, we need your help to stop Darken Rahl.”

  “I know. You want me to find the wizard for you.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I have already found him.” Richard felt Kahlan’s questioning eyes on him, but he continued to fix his gaze on Zedd. “You are the great wizard.”

  Kahlan began to rise from the bench. Without taking his eyes from Zedd, Richard reached under the table and clutched her forearm, forcing her to sit back down. Still Zedd showed no emotion. His voice came even and soft.

  “And what makes you think this, Richard?”

  Richard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he put his hands on the table, intertwining his fi
ngers. He watched his hands as he spoke. “When Kahlan first told me about the history of the three lands, she said the council had taken actions that made the death of the wizard’s wife and daughter at the hands of a quad stand for nothing, and as punishment the wizard did the worst thing possible to them: he left them to suffer the consequences of their own actions.

  “That sounded like the very thing you would do, but I couldn’t be sure then; I had to find a way to know. When you first saw Kahlan, and were angry that she had come here from the Midlands, I told you she had been attacked by a quad. I watched your eyes. They told me I was right. Only someone who had suffered a loss like yours would have had that look in his eyes. And, you changed your attitude toward her after I told you. Completely. Only someone who had known the terror personally would have that kind of empathy. But still I didn’t trust my instinct. I waited.”

  He looked up at Zedd and held the other’s gaze while he spoke. “Your biggest mistake was when you told Kahlan she was safe here. You would not lie, especially about something like that. And you know what a quad is. How could an old man make it safe here, against a quad, without magic? He couldn’t, but one old wizard could. The next quad is nowhere to be found, you said so yourself; they ran into some trouble. I think they ran into some wizard trouble. You were as good as your word. You always are.”

  Richard’s voice turned gentler. “I have always known, in a thousand little ways, that you were more than you claimed to be, that you were a special person. I have always been honored to have you as my friend. And I know that as my friend, you would do anything, anything you must, to help me if my life were in danger, just as I would do anything for you. I trust you with my life, and it is now in your hands.” Richard hated closing the trap in this fashion, but all their lives were at risk. There could be no games.

  Zedd put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I have never before been this proud of you, Richard.” His eyes told that he meant it. “You got it all right.” He stood and came around the table. When Richard stood, they hugged. “I have also never been this sad for you.” Zedd held Richard in a tight embrace for a moment longer. “Sit. I will be right back. I have something for you. Both of you sit and wait a moment.”

  Zedd cleared the table; then, holding the plates in the crook of his arm, he strode to the house. Kahlan looked worried as she watched him go. Richard had thought that she would be happy to have found the wizard, but now she looked more frightened than anything else. Things were going differently from what he had expected.

  When Zedd reappeared, he was carrying something long. Kahlan came to her feet. Richard realized Zedd’s fist clutched the scabbard of a sword. Kahlan put herself in front of him before he reached the table, grabbing fistfuls of his robes.

  “Don’t do this, Zedd.” Her voice was desperate.

  “It is not my choice.”

  “Zedd, please no, choose someone else, not Richard….”

  Zedd cut her off. “Kahlan! I warned you about this. I told you; he picks himself. If I choose someone other than the true one, we all die. If you have a better way… put words to it!”

  He swept her aside, came to the side of the table opposite Richard, and slammed the sword down in front of him. Richard jumped. He looked from the sword up into Zedd’s fierce eyes as the other leaned over the table.

  “This belongs to you,” the wizard said. Kahlan turned her back to them.

  Richard’s gaze fell upon the sword. The silver scabbard gleamed with gold flourishes that embellished it in sweeps and waves. Steel crossguards swept out and down aggressively. Finely twisted silver wire covered the grip, and interwoven along the side of the braided silver, gold wire formed the word Truth. This, Richard thought, was the sword of a king. It was the finest weapon he had ever seen.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet. Zedd picked up the scabbard by the point and held the hilt of the sword to Richard. “Draw it.”

  As if in a trance, Richard closed his fingers around the hilt and pulled the sword free, the blade making a ringing, metallic sound that hung in the air. Richard had never heard a sword make a sound quite like it. His hand closed tightly around the grip, and in his palm and on his fingers opposite he could feel the bumps of the gold wire that spelled out the word Truth on each side of the hilt pressing almost painfully into his flesh. Inexplicably, it felt precisely correct. The weight fit him exactly. He felt as if a part of him was now complete.

  From deep within, he felt his anger stir, brought to life, searching direction. He was suddenly aware of the tooth against his chest.

  As his rage rose, he felt an awakening power rushing into him from the sword the twin to his own anger. His own feelings had always seemed independent, whole. This was like having an image in a mirror come to life. It was a terrifying specter. His anger fed on the force from the sword, and in return, the wrath from the sword fed on his anger. Together the twin storms spiraled through him. He felt like a helpless bystander, being dragged along. It was a frightening and at the same time seductive sensation that bordered on violation. Fearful perceptions of his own anger twisted with tantalizing promise. The bewitching emotions rushed headlong through him, seizing his anger, soaring with it. Richard struggled to control the rage. He was on the brink of panic. On the brink of abandon.

  Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander threw his head back and spread his arms. To the sky, he called out, “Fair warning to those living and those dead! The Seeker is named!”

  Thunder from the blue sky shook the ground and rolled off toward the boundary.

  Kahlan fell to her knees in front of Richard, head bowed, hands held behind her back. “I pledge my life in the defense of the Seeker.”

  Zedd knelt beside her, his head bowed. “I pledge my life in the defense of the Seeker.”

  Richard stood gripping the Sword of Truth in his hand, eyes wide in breathless bewilderment.

  “Zedd,” he whispered, “what in the name of everything good is a Seeker?”

  9

  With the aid of a hand to his knee, Zedd rose to his feet, rearranged his robes around his bony body, and held his hand out to Kahlan, who was staring at the ground. Noticing the hand, she took it, coming to her feet as well. Her face bore a distressed expression. Zedd considered her for a moment, and she nodded that she was all right.

  Zedd turned to Richard. “What is a Seeker? A wise first question in your new capacity, but not one swiftly answered.”

  Richard gazed down at the gleaming sword in his hand, not at all sure he wanted anything to do with it. He slid it back into its scabbard, glad to be free of the feelings it invoked, and held it in both hands before him. “Zedd, I’ve never seen this before. Where have you kept it?”

  Zedd smiled proudly. “In the cabinet, in the house.”

  Richard eyed him skeptically. “There’s nothing in the cabinet but dishes and pans and your powders.”

  “Not that cabinet,” he said, lowering his voice as if to thwart anyone who might be listening, “in my wizard’s cabinet!”

  Richard straightened with a frown. “I’ve never seen any other cabinet.”

  “Bags, Richard! You’re not supposed to see it! It’s a wizard’s cabinet; it’s invisible!”

  Richard felt more than a little stupid. “And how long have you had this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a dozen years or so.” Zedd swept his slender hand in the air as if trying to brush the question away.

  “And how did you come to have it?”

  Zedd’s tone hardened. “The naming of the Seeker is a wizard’s task. The High Council wrongly took it upon itself to name the person. They didn’t care anything about finding the right person. They gave the post to whoever suited them at the time. Or whoever offered the most. The sword belongs to the Seeker as long as he is alive, or as long as he chooses to be Seeker. In between, while a new Seeker is sought, the Sword of Truth belongs to the wizards. Or more precisely, it belongs to me, as naming Seekers is my responsibility. The last fellow who had it
became…” His eyes turned up, as if searching the sky for the right word. “…entangled, with a witch woman. So, while he was distracted, I went into the Midlands and retrieved what is mine. Now it is yours.”

  Richard felt himself being drawn into something not of his own choosing. He looked to Kahlan. She seemed to have shed her anguish and was unreadable again. “This is what you came here for? This is what you wanted the wizard to do?”

  “Richard, I wanted the wizard to name a Seeker. I did not know it would be you.”

  He was beginning to feel trapped as he looked from one to the other. “You two think I can somehow save us. That’s what you both are thinking: that somehow I’m to stop Darken Rahl. A wizard can’t do it, but I’m to try?” Terror rose with his heart into his throat.

  Zedd came and put a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “Richard, look up in the sky. Tell me what you see.” Richard looked and saw the snakelike cloud. He didn’t need to answer the question. Zedd pressed his strong, bony fingers into Richard’s flesh. “Come. Sit, and I will tell you what you need to know. Then you decide, for yourself, what it is you will do. Come.” He put his other arm around Kahlan’s shoulder and guided them both to the bench at the table. He went to his place opposite them and sat. Richard laid the sword on the table between them to signify that the matter was yet to be decided.

  Zedd pushed his sleeves up his arms a little. “There is a magic,” he began, “an ancient and dangerous magic of immense power. It’s a magic spawned from the earth, from life itself. It is held in three vessels called the three boxes of Orden. The magic is dormant until the boxes are put into play, as it is called. To do so is not easy. It requires a person who has knowledge gained from long scholarship and who can call upon considerable power of his own. Once a person has at least one of the boxes, the magic of Orden can be put in play. He then has one year from that time to open a box, but he must have all three before any will open. They work together; you can’t simply have one and open it. If the person who puts them in play fails to acquire all three, and to open one within the allotted time, he forfeits his life to the magic. There is no going back. Darken Rahl must open one of the boxes, or die. On the first day of winter, his year is up.”