The terrible fright she had shared with Chase while .they raced to catch Richard was melting away. The bone-tired worry of whether or not they would catch him in time was melting away. The terror of the people who had tried to stop them, the fights Chase had had, the horror of the blood she had seen, all the blood she had seen ... it was all melting away.
As she stood before the sparkling pool, the hands reached to her again. Reached to her from the gentle smiles of reassurance. The hands helped her undo the buttons of her dirty, sweaty dress, and pull it off. She flinched when her dress pulled against the bruise on her shoulder, the bruise she got when a man chasing them had knocked her down.
The smiles turned to sad looks of concern for her pain. The soft, gentle voices cooed comfort to her. The glowing hands caressed the shoulder, and when they lifted, the bruise was gone. The hurt was gone.
All better?
Rachel nodded. 'Yes! It's all better. Thank you.'
The hands pulled off her shoes and stockings. She sat on a warm rock and dangled her bare feet in the soothing water. It would be so wonderful to bathe and be rid of the dirt and sweat.
The hands reached for the stone hanging on the necklace around her neck. The hands drew back, as if afraid.
We cannot remove this thing. You must do it without our help.
Through the soothing warmth and security of the beautiful land around her, through the comfort of the peace she had found, through her desire to do as the gentle murmurs had asked, a voice rose up in her mind. It was Zedd's voice, telling her that she must not give the Stone to anyone, for any reason, telling her how important it was for her to guard it always.
She looked up, from the circles of ripples her feet made in the water, to the gentle faces. 'I don't want to take it off. Can't I leave it on?'
The smiles returned and widened.
Of course you can, Rachel, if that is what you wish. If that is what would make you happy.
'I want it to stay on. That would make me happy.'
Then it will stay on. Now, and forever, if you wish.
She smiled a smile of peace and security as she slipped into the soothing water. It felt so good. She floated and drifted. She felt all her troubles sloughing away with the dirt. One moment, it seemed she couldn't feel any more safe or happy, and then the next moment she did, and the next yet more.
She drew her arms through the healing, cleansing, golden water, swimming toward the other side of the pool, where she remembered leaving Chase. She found him almost up to his neck in the water, his head tilted back, resting on a soft mat of grass at the bank. His eyes were closed and he had a wonderful smile on his face.
'Father?'
'Yes, daughter,' he whispered without opening his eyes.
She swam up beside him. He lifted an arm and she slipped under it. It felt so good to have his arm around her shoulders, comforting her.
'Father, do we ever have to leave this place?'
'No. They say we can stay forever.'
She nuzzled against him. 'I'm so glad.'
She slept, really slept, like she couldn't remember ever sleeping before, so safe and sheltered, though she didn't know how long. When she dressed, her clothes were clean, and seemed to sparkle like new. Chase's clothes, too, were bright and shiny. She held hands and danced in circles with other children, glowing children, whose voices and laughter echoed. It made her laugh, too, laugh with happiness like none she had ever felt before.
When she was hungry, she and Chase lay in the grass, the warm fog and glowing, smiling faces around them, and ate things that were sweet and delicious. When she was tired, she slept, never having to worry about where she slept, because she was safe, safe at last. And when she wanted to play, the other children came to play with her. They loved her. Everyone loved her. She loved everyone.
Sometimes she walked alone. Filmy shafts of sunlight streamed through the trees. Glowing meadows were filled with wildflowers bowing in the gentle breeze, winking with bright specks of color.
Sometimes she walked with Chase, holding his hand. She was so happy that he was contented now, too. He never had to fight anyone anymore. He was safe, too. He said he was at peace.
He sometimes took her for walks, and showed her the woods where, he said, he grew up, where, he said, he had played when he was as little as she. She smiled with delight at the look of happiness in his eyes. She loved him and was fulfilled knowing he, like she, had found peace, at last.
----------
She looked up, and a small smile touched her thin lips. She hadn't heard a sound, and she needn't turn to look in the near darkness. She knew he was there, on the other side of the door. She knew how long he had been there.
Her legs still crossed, she rose smoothly on a cushion of air, hovering above the straw-covered floor. The boy's limp arms swung as they dangled, like weighted fishing line. Lacking any life or rigidity, his back bent backward, draping over her arm. In her other hand was clutched the statue.
She unfolded her legs and stretched her slippered feet to the floor, settling her weight on them. As the boy slid from her arm, the dead weight of his head thunked against the floor. His arms and legs flopped askew to one side. His clothes were filthy. Disgusted, she wiped her hands on her skirts.
'Why don't you come in, Jedidiah.' Her voice echoed from the cold stone. 'I know you're there. Don't try to pretend you're not.'
The heavy door squeaked slowly open and the shadowed figure strolled into the light of a single candle burning on a rickety, nearby table that was the lower room's only accoutrement. He stood relaxed, silently watching, as the orange glow faded from her eyes and they returned to the pale, pale blue shot through with violet flecks.
His gaze went to the statue in her hand. The owner sent me to find that. She wants it back.'
The thin smile grew. 'Does she now?' She shrugged. 'Well, I'm through with it.' She held it out to him. 'For now.'
Jedidiah's face was a calm mask as he took the statue. 'She doesn't like it when you "borrow" her things.'
She ran a finger down his cheek. 'She is not the one I serve. I don't really care what she likes and what she doesn't.'
'You would be wise to care a little more.'
Her smile brightened. 'Really? I could give her the same advice.' She twisted, holding an arm out to the body on the floor. 'He had the gift.' Slowly, her hard eyes came back to his, the smile gone, as if one had never touched her features in all her life. Her voice came in a venomous hiss. 'I have it now.'
The slightest frown of puzzlement touched his cool expression.
Think we must have the ceremony, Jedidiah? The ritual in the Hagen Woods?' She slowly shook her head. 'Not anymore. That is only the first time, because we are female, and female Han cannot absorb the male.' Her voice lowered to a derisive whisper. 'Not any longer. Now that I have the gift of a male, I can accept others without the ritual.'
Her face glided to within inches of his. 'So can you, Jedidiah,' she breathed. 'With the quillion, so can you. I could teach you. It's sooo easy. I simply showed him the joining rite, to try to show him his Han.' Her cheek brushed his as she whispered into his ear. 'But he didn't know how to control his gift. I created a vacuum in the quillion.' She drew back to appraise his eyes. 'It sucked the life right out of him. Sucked the gift right out of him. It's mine, now.'
He studied her eyes a time before glancing down at the body. 'I don't recall seeing him before.'
She continued to whisper to him from only inches away. 'Don't play games with me, Jedidiah. What you really mean is, where did I find him, and why haven't the Sisters, if he has the gift.'
He shrugged nonchalantly. 'If he has the gift, why isn't he collared?'
She cocked her head to the side. 'Because he is so young. His Han is too weak to be detected by the other Sisters.' She tilted her head to the other side. 'But not by me.' She touched her nose to his. 'He was right here in the city. Right under their noses. Probably the offspring of a dalliance by one of you n
aughty boys.'
'Very efficient. Saves having to bother with reports. Avoids awkward questions.'
She glanced down at the body. 'Be a good boy, and dispose of him for me. I found him living in squalor, down near the river. Dump him back there. No one will think anything of it.'
He lifted an eyebrow. 'You wish me to clean up after you?'
She ran a finger down his neck and across his throat, across his Rada'Han. 'You make a serious mistake, Jedidiah, if you think of me as a mere Sister. I have the male gift now, same as you. And I know how to use it. You wouldn't believe how much that power increases when you add the Han of another.'
'It would appear that you are becoming a Sister to be reckoned with. A wise person would take care with you.'
She patted his cheek. 'Smart boy, Jedidiah.'
She gave him a little frown as she slipped her hands to his waist. 'You know, Jedidiah, you may think of yourself as powerful in the gift, but I think you should worry about that. You have never had one to challenge your abilities before, your rightful place among the wizards here, but a new one comes. He will be here soon, and you have never seen one like this before. I think you may no longer be the pride of the palace.'
His countenance showed no reaction, but his face slowly heated to red. He lifted the statue. 'Well, you did say you would like to teach me.'
She waggled a finger in front of his face. 'Uh, uh, uh. He is mine. You may have another. Any gift will swell your power, but this one is mine.'
He waggled the statue in front of her face. 'She might have something to say about that. She has plans of her own. Plans for him.'
She smiled with one side of her mouth. 'I know. And you are going to keep me informed of her plans.'
He lifted an eyebrow.' You have plans for me?'
The smile grew to both sides of her mouth. 'Very special plans.' Her hands roamed lower down the sides of his hips, feeling the firmness of his young muscles under his robes. 'You're good with your hands, good at making things, making things in metal. I have something I want you to make for me. Something invested with magic. I hear that's one of your talents with the gift.'
'You wish a trinket, an amulet, perhaps, in silver, or gold?'
'No, no, dear boy. You're to make it from steel. You're to gather the steel of a hundred sword points. Very special sword points. Sword points from the armory: old ones, ones that have been used. Ones that have pierced flesh in combat.'
He arched an eyebrow. And what is it you wish made?'
She slid a hand up the inside of his thigh. 'We'll talk about it later.'
She smiled at how quickly he responded to her touch. 'You must be lonely, since Margaret ran away. Sooo lonely. I think you need a friend who understands you. Did you know, Jedidiah, that with the male Han comes a unique understanding of the male? I now understand in a new light what it is that men appreciate. I think we're going to be very special friends. As a special friend, you get the reward before performing the task.'
She trickled a thread of magic into him, focusing it where it would do the most good. Her smile widened as his head rolled back. His eyes closed and he let out a throaty groan, and then gasped. Panting, he clutched his hands to her bottom, drawing her to him, and crushed his open mouth to hers.
She kicked the body out of her way as she let him force her to the straw-covered floor.
CHAPTER 36
The wolverine grew larger in his vision. The arrow waited for the flat, dark head to lift. A low growl came from behind his left shoulder.
'Quiet!' Richard hissed.
The gar fell silent. The wolverine's head rose. With a zip, the arrow was away. Wings aquiver, the little gar bounced on the balls of its feet, its attention riveted to the flight of the arrow.
'Wait,' he whispered. The gar froze.
With a solid thunk, the arrow found its target. The gar squealed in glee. Wings spreading and flapping, it bounced higher and turned to him. Richard leaned close and pointed a finger at the gar's wrinkly nose. The gar watched him attentively.
'All right, but you bring me back my arrow.'
Head bobbing in quick agreement, the gar bounded into the air. Richard watched by the dim, early dawn light as it swooped down on the dead quarry, pouncing as if it were about to escape. Fur flew as claws ripped. The dark silhouette lowered, its wings folding against its back, as it hunched over the prey, growling and pulling its meal apart.
Richard turned from the sight and watched instead the streaks of cloud change color against the brightening sky. Sister Verna would be awake soon. He still stood his watch despite her insistence that it wasn't necessary.
She finally relented, but he knew she was angry because he wouldn't back down. That made her angry. What didn't? She was more angry than usual since coming through the valley the day before. She was silently livid.
Richard glanced toward the little gar to see it was still eating. How it had managed to follow him through the Valley of the Lost, he couldn't imagine. He had thought it was a mistake to keep feeding it before they reached the valley, but he felt responsible for it. Every night when he had taken his watch, it had come to him, and he had hunted food for it. He had thought he had seen the last of it when they crossed over into the Old World, but somehow, it had followed.
The little gar was passionately devoted to him when he was on watch. It ate with him, played with him, and slept at his feet, if not on them. When his watch was over, it hardly made a fuss about him leaving. Richard never once saw the gar at any other time. It seemed to instinctively know to stay away from the Sister, to avoid letting her see it. Richard was reasonably certain she would try to kill it. Maybe the gar knew that.
He was continually surprised by the intelligence of the furry little beast. It learned faster than any animal he had ever seen. Kahlan had told him that short-tailed gars were smart. Now he knew how right she was.
He had only to show it something once or twice to make it understand. It was learning to understand his words, and tried to imitate them, although it didn't seem to have the capacity for speech. Some of its sounds came strangely close.
Richard didn't know what to do about the gar. He thought perhaps it should strike out on its own, learn to hunt and survive, but it wouldn't leave; it followed, out of sight, wherever they went, even through danger. Perhaps it was too young to get by on its own. Maybe it saw Richard as its only way to survive. Maybe it saw him as a surrogate mother.
In truth, Richard didn't really want it to leave. It had become a friend as they had traveled through the wilds. It gave him unconditional love, never criticized him, and never argued with him. It felt good to have a friend. How could he deny the same thing to the gar?
The flap of wings brought him out of his thoughts. The gar thumped to the ground before him. It had gained a lot of weight since Richard had first found it. He would have sworn it had grown nearly half a foot, too.
The sinew under the pink skin of its chest and belly had become taut, and its arms were no longer all hide and bone, as they had been, but were thickening with muscle.
He was afraid to think of how big it would eventually get. He hoped it would be on its own by then. Hunting enough food to feed a full-grown short-tailed gar would be a full-time occupation.
After wiping the shaft on its fur-covered thigh to clean off the blood, the gar flashed Richard its hideous, bloodstained grin and held out the arrow. Richard pointed over his shoulder.
'I don't want it. Put it back where it belongs.'
The gar reached over Richard's shoulder and slid the arrow back into the quiver that leaned against a stump. It contorted its features, seemingly to question if it had done it correctly. Richard smiled as he patted its full belly.
'Good boy. You did it right.'
The gar flopped happily on the ground at his feet, contenting itself with licking blood from its claws and coarse fur. When it finished, it laid its long arms over Richard's lap, and rested its head on them.
'You need a name.'
The gar looked up, cocking its head to the side. Its tufted ears turned toward him. 'Name.' He tapped his chest. 'My name is Richard.' The gar reached out and tapped Richard's chest in imitation. 'Richard. Richard.'
It cocked its head to the other side. 'Raaaa,' it growled through sharp fangs, its ears twitching.
Richard nodded. 'Rich ... ard.'
It tapped Richard's chest again. 'Raaaa gurrrr,' it said in its throaty growl, this time showing less teeth.
'Rich ... ard.'
'Raaaach aaarg.'
Richard laughed. That's close. Now, what are we going to call you?' Richard thought about it, trying to think of something appropriate. The gar sat, its brow bunched into deep furrows, watching him intently. After a moment, it took Richard's hand and tapped it against his chest.
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