Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  Chase stared at the man for a long minute; then he frowned, as if he didn’t understand. The man leaned over with the stick and drew three more people, each with a dress. He looked up from under his eyebrows as if he wanted to make sure Chase was watching, and then he drew an X across two of the figures. His eyes returned to Chase again as he folded his arms over his knees, waiting.

  “What does that mean? Dead? Is that what you mean, they are dead?” The men stared, not moving. Chase pulled a single finger, like a knife, across his throat. “Dead?”

  The man with the silver hair gave one nod and said “dead,” but it sounded a little funny, the way he made the word seem longer than it should. He pointed with his stick to the picture of the sun, then the picture of Kahlan, and then he pointed over his shoulder to the way they went. He pointed to the sun again, then at the picture of Richard, then at the picture of the woman without the X, then he pointed in a different direction.

  Chase stood. His chest rose and then fell as he let out the deep breath. He was awfully tall. He stared in the direction the man with the silver hair said Richard had gone. “East. That’s deeper into the wilds,” he whispered to himself. “Why isn’t he with Kahlan?” He rubbed his chin. Rachel thought he looked worried. It couldn’t be that he looked scared. Nothing scared Chase. “Dear spirits, why would Richard go deeper into the wilds? What could possess Kahlan to let that boy go into the wilds? And who is he with?” The men all glanced at each other, as if they were wondering why Chase was talking to the air.

  Chase squatted back down, all his leather creaking, and pointed at the drawing of the third woman and frowned and shrugged at the men. He pointed at the picture of Richard and the woman and pointed east again. He held the palms of his hands up near his shoulders as he shrugged and made faces to show he didn’t understand.

  The man with the long silver hair gave Chase a sad look as he let out a long breath. He pointed at the third woman, the one without an X, and then he turned and took a rope from a man behind him. He wrapped the rope around his own neck. He looked to Chase’s frown and then he pointed to the picture of Richard. When Chase looked up and their eyes met, the man pulled the rope tight with a snap. He pointed east. He touched the stick to the picture of Kahlan and then pulled his fingers down his cheeks, from the corners of his eye, like tears, then pointed north.

  Chase stood. It was almost a jump. His face was pale. “She took him,” he whispered. “This woman captured Richard, and took him into the wilds.”

  Rachel stood next to him. “What does it mean, Chase? Why didn’t Kahlan go with him?”

  He looked down at her. His face had an odd, still look that made her stomach knot up. “She went for help. She went to Aydindril. To get Zedd.”

  No one made a sound. He stared back out to the east as he hooked a thumb behind his big silver belt buckle.

  “Dear spirits,” he whispered to himself, “if Richard really did go into the wilds, turn him north. Don’t let him go to the south, or even Zedd won’t be able to help him.”

  Rachel hugged her doll tight. “What’s the wilds?”

  “A very bad place, little one.” He stared out unblinking toward the darkening sky. “A very bad place.”

  The way he said it, all calm and quiet, gave her goose bumps.

  Zedd could feel the muscles in the horse’s back flexing under him as he ducked beneath a branch while slowing the animal. Zedd favored riding bareback. If he needed to ride a horse, he preferred to let the animal feel as unencumbered as possible. He thought it only fair. Most seemed to appreciate his consideration, this one especially. She gave him more than she ever would have under a saddle, and he had taken everything she had given.

  He had proffered his saddle and the rest of the tack to a man named Haff. Haff had the biggest ears Zedd had ever seen. How a man with ears the like of those had ever found a wife was a wonder. But have a wife he did, and four children, too, and he looked to have more need of the tack than Zedd. Not to ride, of course, but to sell. His crops and stores had been carried off by soldiers of the D’Haran army.

  It was the least Zedd could do. After all, Rachel was soaked to the bone, and Haff offered them a dry place to sleep, even if it was in a dilapidated little barn, and his wife offered them a cabbage soup, thin as it was, asking nothing in return. It was worth a saddle just to see the look on Chase’s face when Zedd said he wasn’t hungry.

  The big man ate enough for three men, though, and he should have known better. There was going to be much hunger this winter. The tack wouldn’t bring its worth, not with hunger spreading like a dark wind before a thunder-head, but it would bring something, maybe enough to take the hardest edge off the winter.

  Zedd saw Chase put a coin in each of the four children’s pockets, when he thought no one was looking, growling at them in a tone that would make a grown man blanch, but which for some odd reason made children only smile, not to look in the pocket until he was gone. He hoped it wasn’t gold. The boundary warden could smell a thief open a window in the next town and probably tell you his name, too, but he had no wits about him around children.

  Haff suspiciously wanted to know what he was to do in return for the tack. Zedd told him he was to swear his undying loyalty to the Mother Confessor, and the new Lord Rahl of D’Hara, both of whom had put a stop to things the like of which had been done to him. The man had stared at him, his big ears sticking out under that ridiculous knit hat with a tassel on each side that only served to draw attention where it wasn’t needed, and had said, “done,” with a firm nod.

  A small start: one loyal, for the price of a saddle. That it would all be so easy. But that was weeks ago. Now, he was alone.

  The sweet smell of a birch fire drifted to him through the thick woods, the horse lifting her nose to it as she stepped carefully along the narrow path. In the still air, gathering darkness sent deepening shadows across the way. Even before the small house came into view, he could hear the racket: the sound of furniture being overturned, the crash of pots and pans, and demons being cursed. The horse’s ears pricked toward the commotion as they rode down the twisting trail. Zedd gave her a reassuring pat on the neck.

  The little house, wood walls dark with age, and a roof thickly layered with ferns and dry pine needles, was set back into the towering trees, nestled among rough trunks dark in the day’s end. He dismounted to the side of the brown, dead ferns spreading like a garden in front of the house. The horse rolled her eyes toward him as he came around to give her a scratch under her jaw.

  “Be a good girl and find yourself something to eat.” He put a finger under the horse’s chin, forcing her head up. “But stay close?” The horse nickered. With a smile, Zedd rubbed her gray nose. “Good girl.”

  From inside the house came a low growl interspersed with angry clicks. Something heavy thudded to the floor, accompanied by a thick oath in a foreign tongue.

  “Come out from under there, you vile beast!”

  Zedd grinned at the sound of the familiar, raspy voice. He watched the horse stroll off a ways to graze on tufts of dry grass, lifting her head, while she chewed, to look back toward the house at each sharp thump.

  Zedd sauntered up the curving walk toward the house. He paused, turning full around twice to admire the beauty of the surrounding woods. They truly were a wonder, calm and peaceful in a place that had been a pass through one of the most dangerous spots in the world: the boundary. But the boundary was gone now. Yet, the woods were a serene refuge, imbued with an almost palpable tranquillity that Zedd knew wasn’t natural. They had been infused with those qualities at the skilled hands of the woman who at that very moment was throwing curses bold enough to make a battle-hardened Sandarian lancer blush.

  And he had seen one of those curse his own queen into a dead faint. That, of course, had only earned the man the rope. The fellow had had a few things to say to the hangman, too, which in turn didn’t bring him a clean drop, but did offer him the opportunity to get off one last eloquent, if vul
gar, oath. The other lancers seemed to think the trade worth the price.

  For her part, the queen never seemed to fully recover her delicate air, and thereafter always flushed a fabulous red at the mere sight of one of her lancers, needing to be fanned furiously by her attendants in order to remain conscious. She would probably have had them all hanged had they not saved her throne, to say nothing of her dainty neck, on more than one occasion. But that was a long time ago, in another war.

  Clasping his hands together behind himself, Zedd inhaled deeply, relishing the clean, crisp air. Bending over, he plucked a dry, wilted wild rose, and with a wisp of magic brought it to fresh bloom. The yellow petals spread and swelled with new vitality. Closing his eyes, he took a deep whiff of the flower and then idly stuck it in his robes, over his breast. He was in no hurry.

  It was not wise to interrupt a sorceress in a snit.

  Through the open door came a more serious curse as the object of the sorceress’s ire was at last brought to account. With a whack from the blunt end of an axe, the thing was sent flying through the doorway. The small, armored beast landed on its back at Zedd’s feet. Wobbling, it clicked and growled as it raked the air with its claws, trying to right itself. It appeared no worse for the axe, or for its brief flight and rough landing.

  Filthy gripper. It was a gripper that had attached itself to Adie’s ankle before. Once a gripper had you, there was virtually no way to get it off. It held on with those claws and rasped its teeth into you, down to bone, sucking your blood with its puckered, fang-ringed mouth. They never let go as long as there was blood to feed on, and that armor shed any counterattack.

  Adie had used an axe to chop off her foot where the gripper had been attached, chopped off her own foot to save her life. Thinking about it turned his stomach. He watched the beast at his feet for a moment, then gave it a casual kick, sending it a goodly distance. Landing right side up, it waddled off into the woods in search of easier prey.

  Zedd looked up at the figure standing in the doorway, scowling at him with her completely white eyes, her breast still heaving. She wore robes the same light burlap color as his, but unlike his, hers were decorated at the neck with yellow and red beads sewn in the ancient symbols of her profession. She put her fists on her hips. The scowl held a firm grip on her features, not that it diminished in the least how handsome they were.

  She still held the axe in one hand, though, a worrisome sign. Best not to trouble her too quickly with what he wanted.

  Zedd smiled. “You really shouldn’t play with grippers, Adie. That’s how you lost your foot the last time, you know.” He plucked the yellow rose from its place at his chest. His thin lips pushed his wrinkled cheeks back farther as his smile widened. “Got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  She watched him silently for a moment without moving, then slipped the axe head to the floor and leaned the handle against the wall just inside the door. “What do you be doing here, wizard?”

  Zedd stepped onto the tiny porch and gave a dramatic bow. When he came up, he offered her the flower as if it were a priceless jewel. “I just couldn’t stay away from your tender embrace, dear lady.” He flashed his most irresistible smile.

  Adie studied him a moment with those white eyes. “That be a lie.”

  Zedd cleared his throat and pressed the flower closer. He thought maybe he needed to practice his smile. “Is that stew I smell?”

  Without taking her gaze from him, she accepted the flower, sticking it in her straight, jaw-length black and gray hair. She truly was handsome. “It be stew.”

  Her soft, thin hands took his. A small smile stole onto her finely wrinkled face, and she gave a slight nod. “It be good to see you again, Zedd. For a time, I feared I never would. I spent many a night in a sweat, knowing what would happen had you failed. When winter came and the Magic of Orden didn’t sweep the land, I knew you had succeeded.”

  Zedd was encouraged that his best smile hadn’t been wasted after all, but he was careful with his answer. “Darken Rahl has been defeated.”

  “What of Richard and Kahlan? Do they be safe?”

  Zedd puffed up with pride. “Yes. In fact, Richard was the one who defeated Darken Rahl.”

  She nodded again. “I think there be more to the story.”

  He shrugged, trying to make it seem less important than it was. “A bit of a tale.”

  Though the small smile still rested easily on her face, her white eyes seemed to be weighing his soul. “And there be a reason you be here. A reason I fear I won’t like.”

  He pulled his hands out of hers and pushed some of his unruly, wavy white hair back while frowning. “Bags, woman, are you going to feed me any of that stew or not?”

  Adie finally withdrew her white eyes from him and turned back into her home. “I think there be enough stew, even for you. Come in and shut the door. I do not wish to see another gripper tonight.”

  Invited in. Well, things were going smoothly. He wondered how much he was going to have to tell her. Not all, he hoped. Wizard’s work: using people. The worst of it was using people he liked. Especially people he liked deeply.

  As Zedd helped her right the chairs and table, and pick up the pots and tin plates strewn about the floor, he began telling her of the things that had happened since he had been with her last. He started with the harrowing tale of going through the pass, protected, somewhat, by the bone she had given him to hide him from the beasts. He still had the bone on a thin leather thong around his neck, seeing no need to be rid of it after he had gotten safely through.

  She listened without comment as he wove the tale, and when he told of Richard’s capture by the Mord-Sith, she didn’t turn to show her face, but he saw the muscles in her shoulders tense for the briefest of moments. With no small amount of emphasis to make his point, he related how Darken Rahl had taken the night stone from Richard, the night stone she had given him to see him safely through the pass.

  He scowled at her back as she picked a plate off the floor. “I was nearly killed by that stone. Darken Rahl used it to trap me in the underworld. I escaped by the thinnest of hairs. You almost got me killed, giving that thing to Richard.”

  “Do not be a thickheaded fool,” she scoffed. “You be smart enough to save yourself. Had I not given the night stone to Richard, he would have died in the pass, and then Darken Rahl would have won, and right now would no doubt be torturing you. You would soon be dead. By giving the stone to Richard, I saved your life.”

  He shook a leg bone of some sort at the glance she cast over her shoulder. “That thing was dangerous. You shouldn’t go handing out dangerous things as if they were a stick of candy. Not without warning people, anyway.” He had a right to be indignant. He had been the one sucked into the underworld by that wretched stone. The woman could at least pretend to be contrite.

  Zedd went on with the story of how Richard had escaped, although he had a web around him hiding his identity, and how the quads had attacked Chase, Kahlan, and himself. He had to make an effort to control his voice at the telling of what had almost happened to Kahlan, and how she had called forth the Con Dar and killed their attackers. He finished with how Richard had tricked Darken Rahl into opening the wrong box. He told her how the Magic of Orden had taken Darken Rahl for his mistake. Zedd smiled to himself as he reached the end of his story, telling her that Richard had somehow gotten past Kahlan’s power, that they were free to love each other—he wasn’t about to tell her how, that was not for anyone to know—and they were happily together now.

  He was pleased that he had managed to tell the story without having to delve too deeply into some of the more painful events. He didn’t want to have to revisit some of those hurts. She didn’t ask any questions, but came and put a hand on his shoulder, saying that she was relieved all of them had survived, and won.

  Zedd was silent after the telling, at least as much as he wanted to tell, of the tale. He set to stacking the pile of loose bones into the corner where she said they belonged. By
the way they were scattered about, the gripper must have sought refuge in them. A sorry mistake.

  That people called Adie the bone woman was small wonder; the house had little else in it. Her life seemed devoted to bones. A sorceress dedicated to bones was a troubling concept. He saw little evidence of potions, powders, or the usual type of charms, any of the typical things he knew to expect from a woman of her talents. He knew what she was probing into, just not why.

  Sorceresses usually confined their concerns to things living. She was a searcher into things dark and dangerous. Things dead. Unfortunately, that was what he was doing, too. If you wanted to know about fire, you had to study it, he guessed. Of course, it was a good way to get burned. He knew he didn’t like the analogy the moment it popped into his head.

  He looked up from the bone pile as he placed the last of them. “If you don’t want grippers in your house, Adie, you should keep your door closed.”

  His perfectly apt, scolding frown was wasted, as she didn’t turn from her task of stacking the firewood back in its bin at the side of the hearth. “The door be closed. And bolted,” she said in her dry rasp, in a tone seemingly meant to wither his unseen scowl. “This be the third time.”

  Picking up a bone that had been hiding behind a stick of firewood, she straightened and carried it to him. “Before, the grippers never came near my house.” Her voice lowered as if in a threat to unseen ears. “I saw to that.” She handed over the thick, white rib bone, peering down at him as he squatted on the floor next to the bone pile. “Now, since winter, they come near. The bones no longer seem to keep them away. The reason be a mystery to me.”

  Adie had lived in this pass a long time. No one knew as well as she its dangers, its quirks, its vagaries. None knew better than she what it took to be safe here, to live on the cusp between the world of the living and the world of the dead, at the edge of the underworld. Of course, the boundary was gone now. It should be safe here now.