Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  “Why?”

  Ma Ban Grid peered down his nose at her. “They have invited war, as our spirit brethren have warned us they would. They have proven it by killing one of mine. We must kill them before they can kill us all.”

  “There will be no war! There will be no killing! I am the Mother Confessor and I will not allow it! The Bantak will suffer by my hand if they do this!”

  The band of men broke into worried whispers and moved back a pace. The spirit guide stood his ground.

  “The spirit brethren have also told me that the Mother Confessor no longer holds command over the people of the Midlands. They say that as proof, she has been stripped of the company of a wizard.” He gave her a smug look. “I see no wizard. As always, the spirits speak true to Ma Ban Grid.”

  Kahlan stared speechless at the old man.

  Richard leaned toward her. “What are they saying?” Kahlan told him what Ma Ban Grid had said. He stepped up next to her. “I want to speak to them. Translate for me?”

  Kahlan nodded. “They wanted to know who you are. I didn’t tell them.”

  Richard’s eyes turned cold with menace. “I will let them know who I am.” His voice took on the same cold quality as his eyes. “And they aren’t going to like it.”

  He turned his hawklike glare on the men, deliberately ignoring Ma Ban Grid, and she saw in those eyes the rage of the sword’s magic. He was calling the magic forth even as the sword sat in its scabbard. “You men are following an old fool, an old fool by the name of Ma Ban Grid, who is not wise enough to know true spirits from false spirits.” The men gasped at the insult. Richard turned his penetrating gaze to Ma Ban Grid. “Is this not true, old fool?”

  Ma Ban Grid stammered with anger a moment before he could get any words out. “Who are you to dare to insult me like this!”

  Richard glared at him. “Your false spirits told you the Mud People killed one of yours. The false spirits lied to you, and you, in your foolishness, believed them.”

  “Lie! We found his head! The Mud People killed him! They want war with us! We will kill them all. Every last one! They have killed one of mine!”

  “I am growing tired of talking to one as stupid as you, old man. The Bantak are a witless people if they put one such as you in charge of talking to the spirit brethren.”

  “Richard, what are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Translate.”

  When she did, Ma Ban Grid’s face reddened more with each word. He looked ready to burst into flames.

  Richard leaned closer to him. “The Mud People didn’t kill the one that was yours. I did.”

  “Richard! I can’t tell them that. They will kill us.”

  He continued to glare at Ma Ban Grid as he spoke softly to her. “Something is frightening these people into doing this. They are going to kill us and then go and kill a lot of the Mud People unless I can make them even more frightened of us. Translate.”

  She let out a noisy breath at him and then told the Bantak what Richard had said. The weapons came back up.

  “You! You killed one of mine!”

  Richard shrugged. “Yes.” He pointed at his forehead. “I put an arrow right here. One arrow. Right here. Right through his head, as he was about to put his spear in the back of a man. A man who had no hate in his heart for the Bantak. I killed him as I would kill a coyote sneaking up to steal one of my lambs. One who would take a life by such cowardice deserves to die. One who would listen to false spirits, and send one of his own to do such a thing, does not deserve to lead a people.”

  “We will kill you!”

  “Really? Maybe you will try, but you cannot kill me.” Richard turned his back to the old man and walked about twenty paces away, the men opening up to let him pass. He turned back. “I used one arrow to kill one of yours. Use one arrow to try to kill me, and we will see who the good spirits protect. Pick any man you wish. Have him do to me as I did to yours. Shoot me with an arrow.” He pointed angrily at his forehead again. “Right here, where I shot the coward who would kill for false spirits!”

  “Richard! Have you lost your mind? I’m not going to tell them to shoot you.”

  “Kahlan, I can do this. I can feel it.”

  “You did it once. What if it doesn’t work this time? I’m not going to stand here and let you be killed.”

  “Kahlan, if we don’t stop these people, here, now, both of us are going to be killed, and then the Keeper is going to escape. Tonight is the gathering; that is what’s important. I’m using the Wizard’s First Rule; the first step to believing is wanting to believe something is true, or being afraid it is. Up until now, they have been believing something because they wanted to. I have to make them afraid that what I am going to say is true.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “Hurry up. Translate before I lose their interest and they decide to kill us and then go after the Mud People.”

  She turned back to Ma Ban Grid and, reluctantly, translated. The men all started shouting that they wanted to be the one to shoot the arrow. Ma Ban Grid’s eyes moved among them as they yelled and waved their arms.

  He smiled. “All you men may shoot this evil one who has killed one of mine. Everyone! Shoot him!”

  The bows came up. Richard glared. “Coward! Do you men see how foolish this old man is? He knows he listens to false spirits! He would have you listen to them also! He knows the good spirits protect me in my challenge. He is afraid to have you see he is a fool. This proves it!”

  Ma Ban Grid’s jaw tightened. He held his arm up for his men to halt. At last he turned to a man with a bow and snatched it from his hands. “I will show you the spirits I hear are true! You will die for killing one of mine! For saying our spirit brethren are false spirits!”

  He drew a poison arrow back and in a blink shot it at Richard. A cheer rose from the men. Kahlan’s breath caught in her throat. She went cold with fear.

  Richard snatched the arrow out of the air right in front of his face.

  The men gasped and then fell silent as Richard marched back to the spirit guide, the arrow in his hand, and fire in his eyes. He stopped before Ma Ban Grid and snapped the arrow in front of his face to the sound of fearful murmurs.

  His voice was deadly. “The good spirits protect me, old fool. You listen to false spirits.”

  “Who are you?” Ma Ban Grid whispered, wide-eyed.

  Richard slowly drew the Sword of Truth. The soft ring of steel filled the quiet dawn. He placed the sword’s point at Ma Ban Grid’s throat.

  “I am Richard, the Seeker. Mate to the Mother Confessor.” Worried whispers drifted through the cold air. “And, I am a wizard. Her wizard.”

  Eyes as far as she could see widened. Jaws dropped. Ma Ban Grid’s face slackened a little. He glanced to the sword.

  “Wizard? You?”

  “Wizard!” Richard’s angry glare swept across the gathered men. “Wizard. I command the magic. The gift. It would seem, old fool, your false spirits have lied to you. They said the Mother Confessor had no wizard. They sent one of yours to start a war the Mud People do not want. They have used you for their own purposes. Perhaps a wise spirit guide would have known this, perhaps an old fool would not.” Grumbling broke out among the men. “If you persist in this, if you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will use my magic to destroy you. I will use terrible magic to burn the Bantak’s land to ashes and put a blight upon it for all time. Each Bantak will die a horrible death; a death by my magic. I will kill every last Bantak. Young, and old.” His cold gray eyes returned to Ma Ban Grid. “But I will start with the old.”

  “Magic?” Ma Ban Grid whispered. “You would kill us with magic?”

  Richard leaned closer. “If you disobey the Mother Confessor, I will kill you all with magic more frightful than anything you can imagine.” As the men all listened in rapt attention to her translation, Richard recited a litany of horrors he would bring to them. Most of the things she remembered Zedd telling a mob that had come to kill him wh
en they thought he was a witch. Richard was using the same things now to scare the Bantak. The more he spoke, the wider their eyes became.

  Ma Ban Grid’s gaze left the sword and returned to Richard’s face. He looked less sure of himself, but wasn’t entirely ready to concede. “The spirits told me there was no wizard with the Mother Confessor. Why should I believe you are a wizard?”

  All of the anger left Richard’s face. She had never seen him hold the sword without the fury of the sword’s magic in his eyes. There did seem to be something in his eyes, but it wasn’t hate, or rage; he looked at peace. Somehow, it was more frightening than the anger. It was the peace of a man committed to a course.

  In the dim dawn light, the blade of Richard’s sword changed. It began to glow white. White hot with magic. It brightened until no one could miss seeing the bright white luminescence.

  Richard was using the only magic he knew and could depend on. The magic of the sword.

  It was enough. Fear swept the crowd. Men fell to their knees, dropping their weapons, muttering for forgiveness, beseeching the spirits to protect them. Others stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

  “Forgive me, old man,” Richard whispered, “but I must kill you to save a great many more lives. Know that I forgive you, and regret what I must do.”

  As she translated, Kahlan put a hand on Richard’s arm to keep him from doing anything. “Richard, wait. Please, give me a chance?”

  He nodded slightly. “One chance. Fail, and I kill him.”

  She knew he was trying to scare the Bantak, to break the spell they seemed to be under, but he was scaring her too. He was beyond the rage of the sword, to something worse. She looked back to the spirit guide.

  “Ma Ban Grid, Richard will kill you. He does not lie about this. I have asked him to wait, so I may grant you my forgiveness, if you will see the truth of what we say. I can ask him not to kill you, and he will do as I ask. But only once. After that, I will have no control over him. If you are insincere in your change of heart, there will be much death and suffering. Richard is a man of his word. He has made a promise to you, and if you try to trick him with your answer, he will keep his promise.

  “I give you this one chance to hear the truth. It is not yet too late. The Mother Confessor does not want any of her people to die. Every life in the Midlands holds dear value in my heart. But sometimes, I must let a few lose their lives, so that many more may live. I will hear your answer.”

  The men all stood stooped and still. They looked as if they had gotten themselves into something they no longer wanted. The Bantak were a peaceful people and they seemed to regret their foray, even seemed confused by it. Richard had succeeded in giving them a bigger fright than whatever brought them to this.

  The breeze fluttered the dry grass and in its passing pulled a stray wisp of hair across her face. Kahlan reached up and pulled it back as she waited. With eyes that seemed to have gone empty of passion, Ma Ban Grid searched her face. The spell had been broken.

  His voice came soft and sincere. “I heard the spirits speak. I thought they were speaking the truth. It is as he says. I am an old fool.” He looked around at his silent men. “The Bantak have never before sought to bring death to others. We will not start now.”

  He bowed his head and pulled his medallion over his wispy gray hair. He brought it up in both hands, offering it to her. “Please, Mother Confessor, give this to the Mud People. Tell them it is given in peace. We will start no war with them.” He glanced over. Richard returned the sword to its scabbard. Ma Ban Grid looked back to her. “Thank you for stopping us, far stopping me, from listening to false spirits and doing a terrible thing.”

  Kahlan bowed her head to the old man. “I am thankful I was able to serve in time to prevent anyone from being hurt.”

  Richard glanced to her. “Ask him how the spirits convinced him to do something against the nature of his people.”

  “Ma Ban Grid, how did the spirits put the lust for war in your heart? The lust for killing?”

  He stared off, unsure. “Their whispers came to me in the night. Made me feel the need. I have felt an urge to violence before, but never acted on it. This time, it seemed I could not hold it back. I had never felt this need so strongly before.”

  “The veil to the underworld, the spirit world, is torn.” Whispers spread back through the men as she told them Richard’s words. “False spirits may seek to speak to you again. Be on guard against them. I understand how you were tricked, and will hold no anger against you for it. But I expect you to be more cautious now that you have learned the truth and have been warned.”

  “Thank you, wizard.” Ma Ban Grid nodded. “I will make it so.”

  “Did the spirits’ voices tell you anything else?”

  The old man frowned in thought. “I don’t really remember their voices telling me what must be done. It was more of a feeling that filled me with the need. My son—he looked up—the one who died . . . he was with me, and heard them also. I felt that the spirits spoke differently to him, somehow. His eyes were wild with hate. Even more than mine. He went as soon as we were visited by the spirits.” His gaze sank to the ground.

  Richard regarded the spirit guide a long moment. His voice came softly. “I am sorry, Ma Ban Grid, that I had to kill your son. It wounds my heart to have done so. Know that had there been any other path, I would have taken it.”

  The old man nodded, but couldn’t bring forth words. He looked around at his men. He seemed suddenly ashamed. “I don’t know what we are doing here,” he whispered. “This is not the Bantak way.”

  “It is the fault of false spirits. I am glad we were here to help you see the truth of it,” Richard said.

  He nodded again and turned to his men, looking about at them, and then walked off toward their homeland. Kahlan let out a heavy sigh. Richard watched warily as the Bantak plodded off into the sunrise, dragging spears behind.

  “What do you make of that?” she asked when he turned to her at last.

  He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword and turned to watch the Bantak. “The Keeper is getting ahead of us.” He looked back to her eyes. “He has taken the effort to discredit you. To discredit the Mother Confessor. He is laying traps for us. He has plans, and I don’t have the slightest idea what they are.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What we planned to do. Tonight we have the gathering, and tomorrow we are married and leave for Aydindril.”

  She studied his face. “You really are a wizard,” she said softly. “You used magic to break the Keeper’s spell.”

  His expression didn’t change. “No, I’m not. It was just a little trick Zedd taught me. He said once that people are more afraid to die from magic than anything else, as if they would somehow be more dead. I used that fear and the Wizard’s First Rule to make them believe it. It was a stronger fear than the one the spirits gave them.”

  “And what of turning the Sword of Truth white?”

  He regarded her a long moment. “Do you remember when Zedd showed us how the sword works? How it couldn’t harm anyone you think innocent?” She nodded. “Well, he was wrong. When it is white, you can kill anyone. Anyone. Even one you know to be innocent. Even one you love.” His eyes hardened. “I hate magic.”

  “Richard, the gift has just helped you save the lives of many people.”

  “At what cost?” he whispered. “Whenever I even think of turning the sword white, all I can remember is how I did it to you, how I almost killed you with it.”

  “But you didn’t. Almost doesn’t make bread rise.”

  “That doesn’t stop the pain of it. Or of having killed with the sword’s white magic, and of knowing what I am capable of. It makes me feel like a Rahl.” He let out a heavy breath and changed the subject. “I think we had better be very careful at the gathering tonight.”

  “Richard . . . this puts a new light on things. We have been warned twice now of the danger of dealing with the spirits. Won’t you re
consider the gathering?”

  He looked away. “What choice do I have? The Keeper seems to be ahead of us. Events are moving fast. The more we find out, the more we realize we don’t know. We must learn what we can.”

  “But maybe the ancestors’ spirits won’t be able to help us.”

  “Then we will have learned something. We can’t pass up the chance; too much is at risk. We have to try.” He gently took her hand. “Kahlan . . . I can’t allow myself to be responsible for this. To know it’s my fault.”

  She waited until his eyes came up. “Why? Because Darken Rahl is your father? You think you are responsible because you are a Rahl?”

  “Maybe. But Rahl or not, I can’t be responsible for the Keeper having everyone. For having you. I have to find a way to stop it. Darken Rahl haunts me from the grave. Somehow I have caused this. I don’t know how, but it’s my fault. I have to do whatever it takes to stop it, or everyone will suffer. And the Keeper will have you, forever.

  “That thought scares me more than anything in my life has ever scared me. It wakes me with nightmares. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to stop him from getting you. I won’t take a chance of missing anything, no matter the risk. I have to have the gathering.” His gaze held hers. “Even though I fear it might be a trap, I have to try.”

  “A trap? . . . You think it might be a trap?”

  “It could be. We have been warned. At least we can be alert for it.” He looked down at her hand in his. “I won’t have the sword in the gathering. Do you think you can call down the lightning if you have to?”

  Kahlan shook her head. “I don’t know, Richard. I don’t know how I did it. It just happened. I don’t know how to control it.”

  He nodded as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumbs. “Well, maybe you won’t have to try. Maybe the ancestors’ spirits will be able to help us. They helped us before.”

  Richard reached up and gripped the Agiel. His gray eyes were filled with the pain of the headache. He sank down and put his head in his hands as she sat next to him. “I have to rest awhile before we go back. This headache is killing me.”