Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  The face on the doll smiled. Rachel’s mouth dropped open.

  “I love you, Rachel,” it said in a tiny little voice.

  Rachel gasped in surprise, she giggled in glee, she hugged the doll to her as tight as she could. She laughed and laughed, swinging her body back and forth as she hugged the doll to her chest.

  Then, she remembered. She pushed the doll back at the wizard, turning her face away.

  “I’m not allowed to have a doll. The Princess said so. She would throw it in the fire, that’s what she said. If I had a doll, she would throw it in the fire.” She could hardly speak, because of the lump in her throat.

  “Well, let me think,” the wizard said, rubbing his chin. “Where do you sleep?”

  “Most of the time, I sleep in the Princess’s bedroom. She locks me in the box at night. I think that’s mean. Sometimes, when she says I’ve been bad, she makes me leave the castle for the night, so I have to sleep outside. She thinks that’s even meaner, but I really like it, because I have a secret place, in a wayward pine, where I sleep.

  “Wayward pines don’t have locks on them, you know. I can go potty whenever I have to. It’s pretty cold sometimes, but I got a pile of straw, and I climb under it to keep warm. I have to come back in the morning, before she sends the guards to look for me, so they won’t find my secret place. I don’t want them to find it. They would tell the Princess and she wouldn’t send me out anymore.”

  The wizard tenderly cupped his hands around her face. It made her feel special. “Dear child,” he whispered, “that I could have been a party to this.” His eyes were wet. Rachel didn’t know wizards could get tears. Then his big grin came back, and he held up a finger. “I have an idea. You know the gardens, the formal gardens?”

  Rachel nodded. “I go through them to go to my secret place, when I’m put out at night. The Princess makes me go through the outer wall at the garden gate. She doesn’t want me to go out the front, past the shops and people. She’s afraid someone might take me in for the night. She told me I mustn’t go to the town or the farmland. I must go to the woods, as punishment.”

  “Well, as you walk down the central path of the garden, there are short urns, on both sides, with yellow flowers in them.” Rachel nodded. She knew where they were. “I will hide your doll in the third urn on the right. I will put a wizard’s web over it—that’s magic—so no one but you will find it.” He took the doll and carefully tucked it away back in his robes as her eyes followed it. “The next time you are put out for the night, you go there and you will find your doll. Then you can keep it at your place, your wayward pine, where no one will find it, or take it from you.

  “And I will also leave you a magic fire stick. Just build a little stack of sticks, not too big now, with stones around it, and then hold the magic fire stick to it and say ‘Light for me,’ and it will burn, so you can keep warm.”

  Rachel threw her arms around him, hugging and hugging him as he patted her back. “Thank you, wizard Giller.”

  “You may call me Giller when we are alone, child, just Giller, that is what all my good friends call me.”

  “Thank you so much for my doll, Giller. No one ever gave me anything so nice before. I’ll take the bestest care of her. I have to go now. I’m to scold the cooks for the Princess. Then I have to sit and watch her eat.” She grinned. “Then I have to think of something bad to do so the Princess will put me out tonight.”

  The wizard laughed a deep laugh as his eyes sparkled. He mussed her hair with his big hand. Giller helped her with the heavy door and locked it for her, then handed the key back to her.

  “I so hope we can talk again sometime,” she said, looking up at him.

  He smiled at her. “We will, Rachel, we will. I’m sure of it.”

  Waving back at him, she ran off down the long, empty hall, happier than she had been since she first came to live at the castle. It was a long way, through the castle, down to the kitchen, down stone stairs and halls with rugs on the floors and paintings on the walls, through big rooms with tall windows hung with gold and red drapery, and chairs of red velvet with gold legs, long carpets with pictures on them of men fighting on horseback, past guards who stood still as stone at some of the big fancy doors or marched in twos, and by servants who rushed everywhere carrying linens, trays, or brooms and rags and buckets of soapy water.

  None of the guards or servants gave her a second look, even though she was running. They knew she was Princess Violet’s playmate, and had seen her running through the castle many times before on errands for the Princess.

  She was winded when she finally reached the kitchens, which were steamy and smoky and filled with noise. Helpers were scurrying around carrying heavy sacks, big pots, or hot trays, all trying not to bump into one another. People chopped things she couldn’t see on the high tables and huge chopping blocks. Pans clanged, cooks yelled orders, helpers took pans and metal bowls off hooks overhead and put others back. There was a constant rapping of spoons mixing and whipping food, the sharp hiss of oil and garlic and butter and onions and spices in hot pans, and everyone seemed to be yelling at the same time. This chaotic place smelled so good it made her head spin.

  She tugged on the sleeve of one of the two head cooks, trying to tell him she had a message from the Princess, but he was arguing with another cook and told her to go sit and wait until they were finished. She sat down nearby, on a little stool by the ovens, her back pressed against the hot brick. The kitchen smelled so good, and she was so hungry. But she knew she would get in trouble if she asked for food.

  The head cooks were standing over a big crock, waving their arms around, yelling at each other. Suddenly, the crock fell to the floor with a big thunk, splitting in two, sending light brown liquid flooding all over. Rachel jumped up on the stool so it wouldn’t get on her bare feet. The cooks stood still, their faces almost as white as their coats.

  “What’re we going to do now?” the short one asked. “We don’t have any more of the ingredients Father Rahl sent.”

  “Wait a minute,” the tall one said, holding his hand to his forehead. “Let me think.”

  He put both hands to his face, squishing it together. Then he put both arms in the air.

  “All right. All right. I’ve got an idea. Get me another crock, and just keep your mouth shut. Maybe we can keep our heads. Get me some other ingredients.”

  “What ingredients!” the short one yelled, red-faced.

  The tall cook leaned over him. “Brown ingredients!”

  Rachel watched while they ran around snatching up things, pouring in bottles of liquid, adding ingredients, stirring, tasting. At last they both smiled.

  “All right, all right, it’ll work. I think. Just let me do the talking,” the tall one said.

  Rachel stepped tiptoed across the wet floor and tugged on his sleeve again.

  “You! You still here? What do you want?” he snapped.

  “Princess Violet said not to make her roast dry again, or she would have the Queen make those men beat you.” She looked down at the ground. “She made me say that.”

  He looked down at her a minute, then turned to the short cook, shaking his finger. “I told you! I told you! This time, slice hers from the center, and don’t mix up the plates or we’ll both end up losing our heads!” He looked back down at her. “And you didn’t see any of this,” he said, stirring his finger around in the air over the crock.

  “Cooking? You don’t want me to tell anyone I saw you cooking? All right,” she said, a little confused, and started tiptoeing across the wet floor again. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I don’t like to see people getting hurt by those men with the whips. I won’t tell.”

  “Wait a minute,” he called after her. “Rachel, isn’t it?”

  She turned and nodded.

  “Come back here.”

  She didn’t want to, but she tiptoed back anyway. He took out a big knife that scared her at first, then turned to a platter on the table behind him a
nd cut off a big, juicy piece of meat. She had never seen such a piece of meat, without fat and gristle all over it, at least not up close. It was a piece of meat like the Queen and the Princess ate. He handed it down to her, put it right into her hand.

  “Sorry I yelled at you, Rachel. You sit on that stool over there and eat this, and then let us be sure you’re cleaned up, so no one will be the wiser. All right?”

  She nodded and ran off to the stool with her prize, forgetting to tiptoe. It was the best, most delicious thing she had ever eaten. She tried to eat it slowly while she watched all the people running around, clanging pots and carrying things, but she couldn’t. Juice ran down her arms and dripped off her elbows.

  When she was finished, the short cook came and wiped her hands and arms and face with a towel, then he gave her a slice of lemon pie, placing it right in her hands the way the tall cook had done with the meat. He said he baked it himself and he wanted to know if it was good. She told him, quite truthfully, that it was just about the bestest thing she had ever had. He grinned.

  This had been just about the best day she could ever remember. Two good things in the same day: the trouble doll, and now the food. She felt like a queen herself.

  Later, as she sat in the big dining room on her little chair behind the Princess, it was the first time, ever, that she hadn’t been so hungry that her stomach made noises while the important people ate. The head table, where they sat, was three steps higher than all the other tables, so if she sat up straight she could see the whole room even from her little chair. Servers were dashing all about, bringing in food, taking out dishes with food still left on them, pouring wine, and exchanging half-full trays on the tables with full ones from the kitchen.

  She watched all the fine ladies and gentlemen dressed in pretty dresses and colorful braided coats, sitting at the long tables, eating from the fancy plates, and for the first time she knew how the food tasted. She still didn’t understand, though, why they needed so many forks and spoons to eat with. One time when she had asked the Princess why there were so many forks and spoons and things, the Princess had said it was something a nobody like her would never need to know.

  Mostly Rachel was ignored at the banquets. The Princess only turned to look at her once in a while; she was just there because she was Princess Violet’s playmate, for looks, she guessed. The Queen had people standing or sitting behind her when she ate, too. The Queen said Rachel was for the Princess to practice on, to practice leadership.

  She leaned forward and whispered, “Is your roast juicy enough, Princess Violet? I told the cooks it was mean to give you bad meat, and you said not to do it again.”

  Princess Violet looked back over her shoulder, gravy dripping from her chin. “It’s good enough to keep them from getting whipped. And you’re right, they shouldn’t be so mean to me. It’s about time they learned.”

  Queen Milena sat at the table, as she always did, with her tiny little dog held in one arm. It kept pushing its skinny little stick legs against her fat arm as it shook, making little dents with its feet. The Queen fed it scraps of meat that were better than any Rachel had ever been fed. Before today, that is, she thought with a smile.

  Rachel didn’t like the little dog. It barked a lot, and sometimes when the Queen set it on the floor, it would run over to her and bite her legs with its tiny sharp teeth, and she didn’t dare to say anything. When the dog bit her, the Queen always told it to be careful, not to hurt itself. She always used a funny, high, sweet voice when she talked to the dog.

  While the Queen and her ministers talked about some kind of alliance, Rachel sat jiggling her legs, knocking her knees together, thinking about her trouble doll. The wizard stood behind and to the right of the Queen, offering his advice when asked. He looked grand in his silver robes. She had never paid much attention to Giller before; he had just been another one of the Queen’s important people, always there with her, like her little dog. People were afraid of him, too, the way she was afraid of the dog. Now, as she watched him, he seemed like just about the nicest man she had ever seen.

  He ignored her through the whole dinner, never once looking her way. Rachel figured he didn’t want to draw attention to her, and make the Princess mad. That was a good idea. Princess Violet would be cross if she knew Giller had said he thought Rachel’s name was pretty. The Queen’s long hair hung down behind her fancy carved chair, shaking in waves when her important people talked to her and she nodded her head.

  When the meal was finished, servers rolled out a cart with the crock she had seen the cooks mixing. Goblets were filled from a ladle and carried to all the guests. Everyone seemed to think it was pretty important.

  The Queen stood, holding her goblet in the air, and the little dog in her other arm. “Lords and ladies, I present you with the drink of enlightenment, that we may see the truth. This is a very precious commodity; few are offered the opportunity of enlightenment. I have availed myself of it many times, of course, that I might see the truth, the way of Father Rahl, in order to lead my people to the common good. Drink up.”

  Some people looked like they didn’t want to, but only for a minute. Then they all drank. The Queen drank, after she saw that everyone else had, then sat back down with a funny look on her face. She leaned to a server, whispering. Rachel started to get worried; the Queen was frowning. When the Queen frowned, people got their heads chopped off.

  The tall cook came out, smiling. The Queen motioned to him with her finger hooked, to lean closer. There was sweat on his forehead. Rachel guessed it was because the kitchen was so hot. She was sitting behind the Princess, who sat at the left arm of the Queen, so she could hear them talking.

  “This does not taste the same,” she said in her mean voice. She didn’t always talk in her mean voice, but when she did, people got scared.

  “Ah, well, Your Majesty, you see, in truth, uh, well, it’s not, you see. Not the same, that is.” Her eyebrows lifted and he talked faster. “You see, uh, in truth, well, I knew this was a very important dinner. Yes, I knew, you see, that you wouldn’t want anything to go wrong. You see. Wouldn’t want anyone to fail to be enlightened, to fail to see your brilliance, about all this, uh, business, so, you see, well,” he leaned a little closer and lowered his voice to speak confidentially, “so I took the liberty of making the drink of enlightenment stronger. Much stronger, actually, you see. So no one would fail to see the lightness of what you say. I assure you, Your Majesty, it is so strong, no one will fail to be enlightened.”

  He leaned even closer, lowered his voice even more. “In fact. Your Majesty, it is so strong that anyone who fails to be enlightened, and opposes you after drinking it, well, they could only be a traitor.”

  “Really.” the Queen whispered in surprise. “Well, I thought it was stronger.”

  “Very perceptive, Your Majesty, very perceptive. You have a very refined palate. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fool you.”

  “Indeed. But are you sure it isn’t too powerful? I can feel the enlightenment sweeping through me already.”

  “Your Majesty,” his eyes shifted among the guests. “Where your mandate is concerned, I feared to make it any weaker.” His eyebrows lifted up. “Lest any traitor go unfound.”

  She smiled at last, and nodded. “You are a wise and loyal cook. From now on, I put you, exclusively, in charge of the drink of enlightenment.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  He bowed a bunch of times and left. Rachel was glad he didn’t get in trouble.

  “Lords and ladies, a special treat. Tonight, I had the cook prepare the drink of enlightenment extra strong, so none loyal to their queen could fail to see the wisdom of Father Rahl’s ways.”

  The people all smiled and nodded how pleased they were about this. Some told how they could already feel the special insights the drink was giving them.

  “A special treat, lords and ladies, for your entertainment.” She snapped her fingers. “Bring in the fool.”

  Guards br
ought in a man, and made him stand in the center of the room, directly in front of the Queen, all the tables around him. He was big and strong-looking, but he was bound with chains. The Queen leaned forward.

  “We here have all agreed that an alliance with our ally, Darken Rahl, will bring great benefits to all our people, that we all will profit, together. That the little people, the workers, the farmers, will benefit the most. That they will be freed from the oppression of those who would only exploit them for profit, for gold, for greed. That from now on, we all will be working for the common good, not individual goals.” The Queen frowned. “Please tell all these ignorant lords and ladies”—she swept her hand around the room—“how it is that you are smarter than they, and why you should be allowed to work only for yourself, instead of your fellow man.”

  The man had an angry look on his face. Rachel wished he would change it, before he got in trouble.

  “The common good,” he said, sweeping his hand around the room like the Queen had done, except his hands had chains on them. “This is what you call the common good? All you fine people look to be enjoying the good food, the warm fire. My children go hungry tonight because most of our crops have been taken, for the common good, for those who have decided not to bother to work, but to eat the fruit of my labor instead.”

  The people laughed.

  “And you would deny them food, simply because you are fortunate that your crops grew better?” the Queen asked. “You are a selfish man.”

  “Their crops would grow better if they would plant seeds in the ground first.”

  “And so you have so little care for your fellow man, that you therefore would condemn them to starve?”

  “My family starves! To feed others, to feed Rahl’s army. To feed you fine lords and ladies, who do nothing but discuss and decide what to do with my crop, how to divide the product of my labor among others.”

  Rachel wished the man would keep still. He was going to get his head chopped off. The people and the Queen thought he was funny, though.