Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  “Kahlan, please,” he cried. “Don’t do this. You don’t understand. Don’t ask me to . . .”

  “I understand perfectly well!” she screamed. “I understand that you say you love me! But I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you! You’re lying to me! Your love for me is a lie if you won’t take the collar! A lie! A filthy lie!”

  He couldn’t look up at her, look up at her as she stood over him in the blue dress she was to wed him in. He struggled to get the words out as he fixed his eyes on the ground. “It’s not . . . it’s not a lie. Please, Kahlan, I love you. You mean more to me than anything in the world. Please believe me. I would do anything for you. But please . . .”

  Dying inside, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head up, making him look at her. Madness danced in his eyes. He was gone. But only for now, she prayed. Please dear spirits, only for now.

  “Words! That’s all you offer me! Not love! Not proof! Just words! Worthless words!”

  As she held him by his hair, she drew her other hand back to slap him. His eyes winced shut. She couldn’t make herself do it; she couldn’t hit him. It was all she could do just to stay on her feet, not to fall to her knees and throw her arms around him and tell him how much she loved him, that everything was all right.

  But it wasn’t all right. If he didn’t do this, he would die.

  She was the only one who could save him. Even if it killed her.

  “Don’t hit me anymore,” he whispered. “Please, Denna . . . Don’t.”

  Kahlan swallowed back the wail that tried to escape her throat and made herself speak. “Look at me.” He did as she ordered. “I’m not going to tell you again, Richard. If you love me, you will accept the offer and put on the collar. If you don’t, I will make you regret disobeying me more than anything you have ever regretted in your life. Do it now, or it’s over. Everything is over.” His eyes faltered. She gritted her teeth. “I’m not going to tell you again, my pet. Put on the collar. Now!”

  Kahlan knew, knew that “my pet” was what Denna had called him. Denna had told her with the rest of it. She knew what those two words meant to him. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to use them. Whatever link he had to sanity dissolved in that instant. She saw it in his eyes: the thing she feared more than death.

  Betrayal.

  She released her grip on his hair as, on his knees, he turned to Sister Verna. She lifted the collar a little, holding it out to him. It looked dull, gray, dead in the cold light. Richard stared at it. Snowflakes drifted down in the still, quiet light. Expressionless, Sister Verna watched him.

  “All right,” he whispered. His shaking hand reached for the collar. His fingers touched it, curled around it. “I accept the offer. I accept the collar.”

  “Then put it around your neck,” Sister Verna said in a soft voice, “and close it.”

  He turned to Kahlan. “I would do anything for you,” he whispered.

  Kahlan wanted to die.

  His hands shook so much she thought he might drop the collar as he took it from Sister Verna. He held it, staring at it.

  But then his hands stopped shaking. He took a deep breath and put the collar around his neck. It closed with a snap, and the seam disappeared, leaving a smooth ring of metal.

  The shaft of light dimmed as if to twilight even though it was still day. Deep, ominous thunder rumbled in every direction out across the grasslands. It didn’t sound like any thunder Kahlan had ever heard before. She could feel it in the ground beneath her feet. She thought that maybe it had something to do with the magic of the collar, something to do with the Sisters.

  She knew, when she glanced at Sister Verna and saw her eyes glide around, that it wasn’t.

  Richard smoothly rose to his feet before the Sister. “You may find, Sister Verna, that holding the leash to this collar is worse than wearing it.” He gritted his teeth. “Much worse.”

  Sister Verna’s voice remained calm. “We only want to help you, Richard.”

  He nodded slightly. “I take nothing on faith. You will have to prove it.”

  In a panic, a sudden thought came to Kahlan. “What is the third reason? What is the third reason for the collar?”

  Richard turned to her with a glare that even his father could not have matched. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

  “The first reason is to control the headaches and open my mind so that I may be taught to use the gift. The second reason is to control me.” His hand came up and grabbed her by the throat. His eyes sliced through her. “The third reason is to give me pain.”

  She closed her eyes with a wail. “No! Dear spirits, no!”

  He released her throat. His expression went slack, lost. “I hope I have proven my love for you, Kahlan. I hope you believe me now. I have given you everything. I hope it is enough; I have nothing else to offer. Nothing.”

  “You have. More than you could ever realize. I love you more than anything in the world, Richard.”

  She reached out to touch his cheek. He pushed her hand away. His eyes said it all; she had betrayed him.

  “Do you?” He looked away. “I would like to believe you.”

  She tried to swallow the painful, burning lump in her throat. “You promised me you would never doubt my love.”

  He nodded slightly. “So I did.”

  If she could have called lightning down on herself, she would have done it. “Richard . . . I know you don’t understand right now, but I only did what I had to—to help you live. To keep you from being killed by the headaches, the gift. I hope that someday you will understand. I will always wait for you; I love you with all my heart.”

  He nodded tearfully. “If that’s true, then find Zedd. Tell him what you have done. Tell him.”

  Sister Verna’s voice broke in. “Richard, take your things and go wait with the horses.”

  Looking back at her, he nodded. He went to the far corner and picked up his cloak, bow, and pack. Reaching in, he pulled out the three leather thongs, the one with the Bird Man’s whistle, the one with Scarlet’s tooth, and the one with Denna’s Agiel. As Kahlan watched him hang the three of them around his neck, she wished she had something of her own to give him. She tried desperately to think of something.

  As he went past her, she put a hand to his arm and stopped him. “Wait.” Kahlan pulled the knife from his belt. She held out a long lock of her hair and severed it with the knife. She didn’t even think about what she was doing, what happened when Confessors cut their own hair.

  With a scream of pain, she found herself on the ground. The magic seared through her, burning every nerve in its passing. She fought to remain conscious as she gulped for air. She struggled against the wrenching pain of it.

  She had to remain conscious, or Richard might leave before she could give it to him. She thought of only that, and forced herself to her feet. As she did so, the pain finally abated.

  Still panting, Kahlan pulled a small blue ribbon from the waist of the dress, cut it too, and after wrapping the long strand of hair around two fingers, tied it together in the middle with the ribbon. As he watched, she returned the knife to its sheath at his belt and put the lock of hair in his shirt pocket.

  “To remind you always that my heart is with you . . . that I love you.”

  Expressionless, he looked at her a long moment. “Find Zedd,” was all he said before turning and going through the doorway.

  Kahlan stood, staring at the door after he was gone. She felt numb, empty, lost.

  Sister Verna stopped next to her, watching the door with her. “That was probably the most courageous act I have ever witnessed,” she said softly. “The people of the Midlands are fortunate to have you as their Mother Confessor.”

  Kahlan continued to stare at the door. “He thinks I betrayed him.” She turned and looked at the Sister, tears welling up in her eyes. “He thinks I betrayed him.”

  The Sister studied her face for a time. “You have not. I promise you that in time I will help him to
see the truth of what you have done this day.”

  “Please,” she begged, “don’t hurt him.”

  Sister Verna clasped her hands in front of herself and took a deep breath. “You have just hurt him to save his life. Would you have me do any less?”

  A tear ran down her cheek. “I guess not. And I doubt you could do anything as cruel as what I have just done.”

  Sister Verna nodded. “I fear you are right. But I will give you my promise that I will personally watch over him, and see to it that what is done is only what is necessary. I promise you that I will not let it go one inch beyond that. Not one breath. On my word as a Sister of the Light.”

  “Thank you.” She looked down at the knife in the other’s hand. The sister pushed it back up her sleeve. “You would have killed him. If he said no, you would have killed him.”

  She nodded. “If he had said no, the pain and madness at the end would have been grotesque. I would have spared him that. But it doesn’t matter now. You have saved his life. Thank you, Mother Confessor . . . Kahlan.”

  Sister Verna stepped toward the door. “Sister? How long? How long will you have him? How long will I have to wait?”

  The Sister didn’t turn. “I’m sorry, I can’t say. It takes as long as it takes. Much of it is up to him. It depends on how fast he learns.”

  Kahlan smiled for the first time. “I think you will be surprised at how fast Richard learns.”

  Sister Verna nodded. “That is what I fear most. Knowledge before wisdom. It frightens me more than anything else.”

  “I think, too, that Richard’s wisdom may surprise you.”

  “I pray you are right. Good-bye, Kahlan. Don’t try to follow, or he will die.”

  “Sister, one more thing.” The cold danger in her own voice surprised her. “If you are lying to me about any of it, if you kill him, I will hunt down every Sister of the Light. I will kill every last one. But not before each of you begs endlessly to die.”

  The Sister stood still as stone a moment before nodding and then going on her way.

  Kahlan followed her out and stood with the people outside as she watched the sister mount her horse. Richard already sat tall on a big bay gelding. His back was to her as he waited.

  Kahlan’s heart was breaking. She wanted to see his face one more time, but he didn’t turn as the two of them started away.

  Kahlan sank to her knees. “Richard,” she cried. “I love you.”

  He seemed not to hear her as he and Sister Verna disappeared into the snowy grasslands. Kahlan sat on the ground, in her wedding dress, her head hanging down, crying. Weselan put an arm around her, comforting her.

  Kahlan remembered what he had said: Find Zedd. She forced herself to her feet. The elders were all there. She looked around at them all.

  “I must leave at once. I must get to Aydindril. I need some men to go with me, to help me, to be sure I make it.”

  Savidlin came up next to her. “I go. And as many of my hunters as you wish. All of them, if you wish. We will take a hundred.”

  Kahlan put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little smile. “No. I do not wish it to be you, my friend, or your hunters. I will take only three men.” Everyone mumbled in confusion. “More would bring attention, maybe trouble. It will be easier with three to slip unnoticed. It will take less time that way.”

  Kahlan took the hand away and pointed at a man who stood watching, glaring. “I choose you, Chandalen.” The two brothers were standing to his side. “And you, Prindin and Tossidin.”

  Chandalen stormed forward. “Me! Why would you want me!”

  “Because I must not fail. I know that if I took Savidlin, he would try his hardest, but if he failed, the Mud People would know he did his best. You are a better hunter of men. Richard told me once that if he had to pick one man to fight beside him, it would be you, even though you hate him.

  “Where we go, men are the danger. If I don’t make it, if you fail me, everyone will think it is because you didn’t try your hardest. They will always think you let me die—let another Mud Person die—because you hate me and Richard. If you let me be killed, you will never be welcomed back to the Mud People. Your people.”

  Prindin stepped forward, his brother right next to him. “I will go. My brother, too. We will help you.”

  Chandalen glared. “I will not! I will not go!”

  Kahlan looked to the Bird Man. His brown eyes met hers, and then he turned an iron gaze on Chandalen. “Kahlan is a Mud Person. You are the bravest, most cunning fighter among us. It is your responsibility to protect us. All of us. You will do this. You will go with her. You will follow her orders and you will get her safely to where she wishes to go. Or, you will leave now, and never return. And Chandalen, if she is killed, don’t come back. If you do, we will kill you as we would kill any outsider with black painted on his eyes.”

  Chandalen shook with rage. He threw his spear on the ground. Seething, he put fists to his hips. “If I am to leave our land there will have to be a ceremony to call the spirits to protect us on our journey. It will take until tomorrow. We leave then.”

  All eyes went to Kahlan. “I leave in one hour. You will be with me. You haw until then to prepare.”

  Kahlan turned to the spirit house to change out of her wedding dress, into her traveling clothes, and to get her things together. She gratefully accepted Weselan’s offer to help.

  Chapter 18

  Fat, wet flakes of snow drifted down, sometimes falling harder, gathering in gusts and swirling into white curtains. Richard rode in a numb haze, behind Sister Verna, the third horse tethered to his and trotting along behind. When the snow swept down in dense flurries, the Sister was no more than a gray shape ahead of him.

  It never occurred to him to wonder where they were going, or to close his cloak against the cold, biting wind. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered.

  His thoughts seemed to float and dance with the snow, unable to settle. He had never loved anything in his life the way he loved Kahlan. She had become his life.

  And she had sent him away.

  He hurt too much to think of anything else. He was stunned that she would doubt his love, that she would send him away. Why would she send him away?

  His mind drifted in and out of dense, desperate thoughts. He couldn’t understand how she could ask him to put on a collar to prove his love. He had told her what wearing a collar meant to him. Maybe he should have told her all of it. Maybe then she would have understood.

  His chest ached where Darken Rahl had burned him. When he reached up and touched the bandage, he finally noticed that the snow flurries had stopped. The low, scudding clouds were broken in places, letting shafts of sunlight shine through. The grassland was a flat, dead brown, and the clouds a dull, dead gray. The landscape was a colorless, empty expanse.

  By the angle of the sun he realized it was getting to be late afternoon. They had been riding for a long time, in silence; Sister Verna had said nothing to him.

  He reached up and experimentally touched the collar for the first time. It was smooth, seamless, cold. He had said he would never wear a collar again. He had promised himself. Yet here he was wearing one. Worse, he had put it on himself, put it on because Kahlan had asked him to. Because she doubted him.

  For the first time since he had put it on, he forced himself to think of something else. He couldn’t think about Kahlan anymore, couldn’t stand the pain. He was the Seeker; he had other things to think about, important things. With a gentle squeeze of his lower legs to the horse’s girth, he urged it ahead, pulling it close beside the Sister’s chestnut gelding.

  Richard reached up to push back the hood of his cloak, and realized it wasn’t even up, so he ran his fingers through his wet hair instead. He looked over at Sister Verna.

  “There are some things we have to talk about. Important things you don’t know about.”

  She glanced over without emotion. The edge of her hood partially blocked her face. “And what would those t
hings be?”

  “I am the Seeker.”

  She looked away, returning her eyes to where they had been. “That is hardly something I don’t know.”

  Her calm, unconcerned attitude annoyed him. “I have responsibilities. I told you before: there are important things going on you know nothing about. Dangerous things.” She didn’t respond. It was as if he hadn’t spoken. He decided to cut right to the heart of it. “The Keeper is trying to escape the underworld.”

  “We do not speak his name. You are not to speak it as you have just done. It brings his attention. When we must speak of him, he is addressed as the Nameless One.”

  She was talking to him as if he were a child. Kahlan’s life was in danger and this woman was treating him like a child. “I don’t care what you call him, he’s trying to get out. And I assure you, I already have his attention.”

  At last she looked over, unconcerned. “The Nameless One is always trying to get out.”

  Richard took a deep breath and tried again. “The veil to the underworld is torn. He is going to get out.”

  Sister Verna turned to him once more, this time pulling the edge of the hood back to get a better look. Curly brown hair peeked out the edge of the dark, heavy hood. She had an odd frown. A frown of amusement. There was a wisp of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

  “The Creator himself put the Nameless One where he is. The Creator himself placed the veil with His own hand to keep him there.” Her smile swelled a little as her eyebrows came closer together, creasing her weathered brow. “The Nameless One cannot escape the prison the Creator has placed him in. Do not be afraid, child.”

  Exploding in rage, Richard wheeled his bay mare around toward the Sister. The two horses jostled, whinnying and tossing their heads. Richard firmly snatched the reins of the Sister’s surprised horse to keep it from rearing, or bolting.

  He leaned toward her, his chest heaving in fury. “I will not be called names! I will not have names put to me because I wear a collar! I am Richard! Richard Rahl!”