Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  As the rage flooded into his foggy brain, Jedidiah pulled his hands out. He had a dacra. His arm lifted, the silver knife in his fist. Richard wondered what he should do, and if this was real. Maybe he would wake and find it only a dream.

  At the apex of his swing, light seemed to come from within Jedidiah’s eyes. Slowly at first, and then with gathering speed, Jedidiah toppled forward, slamming face-first to the stone floor.

  A ripple of heart-stopping darkness swept though the corridor.

  When the torchlight returned, Sister Verna was standing behind where Jedidiah had stood. She had a dacra in her hand. Richard collapsed to his knees, still trying to gather his wits.

  Sister Verna rushed forward, putting her hands to the sides of his head. Alertness jolted into his mind. As he came to his feet, he glanced down at the body, seeing a small, round hole in the back.

  “I thought I had better go talk to some of the Sisters,” she explained. “I realized that the more people who know about the Sisters of the Dark, the better.”

  “He was the one, wasn’t he? He was the one you loved.”

  She slipped the dacra back up her sleeve. “He wasn’t the Jedidiah I knew. The Jedidiah I knew was a good man.”

  “I’m sorry, Sister Verna.”

  She nodded absently. “You go talk to the guards. I’ll talk to the Sisters. Meet me back in Nathan’s room when you’re through. I think it best if we catch a few hours’ sleep there, instead of our rooms.”

  “I think you’re right. We can get our things when it’s light, and then be off.”

  When he heard Nathan come into the room, Richard sat up in the chair and rubbed his eyes. Sister Verna rose more quickly from the couch. Richard blinked, trying to banish the haze of sleep.

  They both had been up late. The whole palace was in an uproar. What had happened in the Prelate’s office was proof enough of the mythical Sisters of the Dark. Doubters had only to take one look at the smooth-edged voids that lined up through a dozen walls, or the cleanly sliced trees and stone, to know that nothing short of Subtractive Magic had been used.

  Richard had sent the guards out to look discreetly for the six Sisters: Sister Ulicia and his five teachers. The Sisters were searching, too. He had also gone to talk to Warren, to tell him what had happened.

  Richard stretched his legs as he stood. “How is she? Is she going to recover?”

  Nathan looked haggard. “She’s resting more comfortably, but it’s too soon to tell. When she has rested, I will be able to do more.”

  “Thank you, Nathan. I know Ann could be in no better hands than yours.”

  He added a grunt to his sour expression. “You’re asking me to heal my jailer.”

  “Ann will appreciate it. Perhaps she will rethink your being held. If she doesn’t, I’ll come back and see what I can do.”

  “Come back? Going somewhere, my boy?”

  “Yes, Nathan, and I need your help.”

  “If I help you, you might get it in your obstinate head to go off and destroy the world.”

  “And do the prophecies say you were sent to stop me?”

  Nathan let out a tired sigh. “What is it you want?”

  “How can I get through the barrier? My collar stops me.”

  “What makes you think I would know?”

  Richard took an angry stride toward the towering old wizard. “Nathan, don’t play games with me. I’m in no mood and this is too important. You’ve been through. You went with Ann to get the book from the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril. Remember?”

  He smoothed his sleeves down. “It’s a simple matter of shielding the Rada’Han. Ann helped me through; Sister Verna can do the same for you. I’ll tell her how.”

  “And what of the Valley of the Lost? Can I get back through that?”

  Nathan, his eyes suddenly intent with a dark look, shook his head. “You have called too much power to yourself. The collar has helped it grow. You’ll also call the spells. Sister Verna can’t pass again; she has been through twice already. Additionally, she has too much power now. With passing twice, and taking the gift of the other two Sisters, she is locked here.”

  “Then how did you ever get through three times? You’re from D’Hara, that’s once. You went to the New World again with Ann, and came back. That makes three times. How did you do it, if it can’t be done?”

  A sly smile came to his lips. “I did not go through the valley three times. Only once.” He held up a hand to silence Richard’s arguments. “Ann and I didn’t go through the valley. We went around the obstacle. We sailed around the ambit of the spells, far out to sea, landing finally in the southernmost reaches of Westland. It’s a long journey, and not easily done, but we made the crossing. Not many do.”

  “By sea!” Richard glanced back to Sister Verna. “I don’t have that kind of time. Winter solstice is not even a week away. I have to go through the valley.”

  “Richard,” Sister Verna said in a soft voice, “I can understand how you feel, but it will take almost that much time just to reach the Valley of the Lost. Even if you find a way through, there is no time to get where you want to go.”

  Richard controlled his rage. “I am inexperienced at being a wizard. I cannot count on my gift. For that matter, I don’t care if I ever learn to use it.

  “But I am also the Seeker. In that, Sister Verna, I am not so inexperienced. Nothing is going to stop me. Nothing. I’ve made a promise to Kahlan that if I must go to the underworld and battle the Keeper himself, in order to protect her, I will do it.”

  Nathan’s expression darkened. “I have warned you, Richard. If that prophecy is not allowed to take place, the Keeper will have us all. You must not try to stop it. You have the power to hand the world of the living to the Keeper.”

  “It’s just a meaningless riddle,” Richard growled in frustration, though he knew better.

  Nathan’s scowl was the scowl of a Rahl, the scowl Richard had inherited. “Richard, death is intrinsic to life. The Creator brought it to be, too. If you make the wrong choice, all the living will pay the price of your pertinaciousness.

  “And Richard, don’t forget what I told you about the Stone of Tears. If you misuse it to banish a soul to the depths of the underworld, you will destroy the balance between everything.”

  “Stone of Tears?” Sister Verna said in a suspicious tone. “What would Richard have to do with the Stone of Tears?”

  Richard turned back to Sister Verna. “We’re running out of time. I’m going to my room to get my things. We need to be on our way.”

  “Richard,” Nathan said, “Ann has put her faith in you. She let you have the love of your family, so that perhaps you will better understand the true meaning of life. Please consider that when the time for choice is upon you.”

  Richard looked up at Nathan for a long moment. “Thank you for your help, Nathan, but I won’t let the one I love die for a riddle in an old book. I hope to see you again. There is much for us to talk about.”

  Richard dumped the bowl full of gold coins into the bottom of his pack before stuffing the rest of his things in. He reasoned that if it helped him save Kahlan, then it was the least the palace could do, after all they had done to him.

  The gold had been a kindness that lulled the rest of the young men at the palace into laziness. It harmed their humanity, as Nathan had said. Maybe that was why Jedidiah turned to promises from the Keeper.

  Richard doubted that any of the young wizards, except Warren, had done a day’s work since they had come here and had ready access to unlimited gold, but no knowledge of its value. Just one more way the Palace of the Prophets destroyed lives. He wondered how many children of young wizards that gold had spawned.

  Richard went out onto the balcony to take stock before he left. Guards were patrolling the grounds. Sisters, too, were diligently searching every building and covered corridor. The Sisters would have to somehow deal with those six. He certainly had no idea how to contain their power.

  When h
e heard the door in the front room, he assumed it would be Sister Verna. They had to get going. When he turned and looked, he had no time to react.

  Pasha was storming through the room toward him. She threw her hands up. The doors blew off their hinges and over the balcony railing, falling the thirty feet to the stone-paved courtyard below.

  The impact of the solid wall of air threw him back. Only the railing prevented him from being thrown over with the splintered doors. The wind had been knocked from his lungs, and a sharp pain in his side prevented him from taking another breath.

  As he staggered away from the edge of the balcony, another blow threw him back once again, this time hammering his head against the stone railing. He saw a shocking spray of blood hit the stone before the slate floor collected him.

  Pasha was screaming in a rage. At first, her words were nothing but an incoherent buzz in his mind. He pushed himself up with his hands. Blood was running from his head. A pool of it spread beneath him. Reeling, he toppled to his side.

  He managed to sit up and flop back against the railing. “Pasha, what . . .”

  “Keep your filthy mouth shut! I won’t hear any of it!”

  She was standing in the doorway, fists at her sides. One fist held a dacra. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “You’re the Keeper’s spawn! You’re an obscene disciple of the Keeper! You do nothing but hurt good people!”

  Richard put his hands to his head. They came away covered with blood. He was so dizzy he had to fight the urge to be sick.

  “What are you talking about?” he managed to mumble.

  “Sister Ulicia told me! She told me you serve the Keeper! She told me how you killed Sister Liliana!”

  “Pasha, Sister Ulicia is a Sister of the Dark . . .”

  “She told me you would say that! She told me how you used your vile magic to kill Sister Finella and the Prelate! That’s why you were always wanting to go to the Prelate’s office! So you could kill our leader in the Light! You are filth!”

  The world swam before his eyes. He saw two of her, moving around and around each other. “Pasha . . . that’s not true.”

  “Only the Keeper’s tricks saved you yesterday. You gave someone else the coat I loved, to humiliate me! Sister Ulicia told me how the Keeper whispers in your ear!

  “I should have killed you when I saw you on the bridge; then none of this would have happened. But I foolishly thought I could save you from the Keeper’s clutches! Those Sisters, and the Prelate, would be alive now had I finished the job. I failed the Creator when you tricked me into killing Perry, but that will not save you again. Your vile underworld tricks will not save you again!”

  “Pasha, please, just listen to me. You’re being lied to. Please listen. The Prelate isn’t dead. I can take you to her.”

  “You wish to kill me, too! That’s all you ever talk of—killing! You profane us all! And to think I could have ever thought I loved you!”

  She raised the dacra and, with a scream, ran for him. Richard somehow managed to pull the sword, woozily wondering which image of her to try to stop. The anger, the magic, of the sword brought strength to his arms. He brought the sword up as she dove for him, dacra first. The two images of her converged.

  The sword never touched her. With a shriek, she was propelled over the railing above him. She screamed all the way down. Richard’s eyes winced shut when he heard her scream terminate as she hit the stone.

  Richard opened his eyes to see a stunned Warren standing in the doorway. He remembered Jedidiah’s fall on the stairs.

  “Oh, dear spirits, no,” Richard whispered.

  He levered himself to his feet and took a quick glance over the edge. People rushed from different directions toward the body. Warren was shuffling woodenly toward the railing. Richard stopped him halfway there.

  “No, Warren, don’t look.”

  Tears welled up in Warren’s eyes. Richard put his arms around his friend. Why did you do that, he thought, I could have done it. I was going to do it. You didn’t have to.

  Over Warren’s shoulder, Richard saw Sister Verna standing in the room.

  “She killed Perry,” Warren said. “I heard her admit it. She was going to kill you.”

  I could have done it, Richard thought, you didn’t need to. But instead he said, “Thank you, Warren. You saved my life.”

  “She was going to kill you,” he cried against Richard’s shoulder. “Why would she do that?”

  Sister Verna put a comforting hand to Warren’s back. “She was lied to by the Sisters of the Dark. The Keeper filled her mind with lies. She heard the whispers of the darkness. The Keeper can make even the good listen to his whispers. You did a brave thing, Warren.”

  “Then why do I feel so ashamed? I loved her, and I killed her.”

  Richard simply held him as he wept.

  Sister Verna pulled them back into the room. She made Richard bend over as she examined his head. Blood was dripping all over the floor.

  “This must be tended to. I can’t fix this much damage.”

  “I can,” Warren said. “I’m fair at healing. Let me do it.”

  When Warren had finished, Sister Verna made Richard hold his head over the basin while she poured the ewer of water over him, washing off the blood. Warren sat on the edge of a chair, his head in his hands. Richard thought that he was going to need the basin.

  Warren’s head came up when the Sister finished. “I figured out the rule you told me about. People will believe a lie because they want to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it is. Just like Pasha believed a lie. Am I right?”

  Richard smiled. “You are, Warren.”

  Warren managed a weak smile. “Sister Verna, can you take this collar off me?”

  Sister Verna hesitated. “You would have to pass the test of pain, Warren.”

  “Sister,” Richard said. “What do you think he just did?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The young wizards sent back through the valley are able to pass because they don’t have sufficient power to draw the spells to them, they are not full wizards. Zedd told me that wizards have to pass a test of pain.

  “Over the millennia, the Sisters have convoluted that into making them endure physical pain. I think they’re wrong. I think the test Warren just passed is more pain than the Sisters could ever give. Am I right, Warren?”

  He nodded, his face going white again. “Nothing they ever did hurt like this.”

  “Sister, remember when I told you how I turned the blade white, and killed that woman by loving her? Maybe that, too, was a form of the test of pain. I know how much that hurt.”

  She spread her hands in dismay. “Do you really think that one with the gift must kill someone they love to pass the test? Richard, that can’t be.”

  “No, Sister, they don’t have to kill someone they love. But they must prove they can make the right decision. They must prove they have what it takes to choose the greater good. Would one with the gift be a good servant to this Creator of yours, to the hope of life, if they could act only for selfish needs?

  “Giving someone pain, as the Sisters do, doesn’t prove anything except that the victim does not die. Wouldn’t serving the light of life, and loving life, require that the person prove instead that of their own free will they would choose right, choose that light of life and love for all people?”

  “Dear Creator,” she whispered, “have we had it wrong all this time?” Her hand covered her mouth a moment. “And we thought we were bringing the Creator’s Light to these boys.”

  Sister Verna’s back straightened with resolve. She stood before Warren, putting her hands to the sides of his Rada’Han. As she stood with her eyes closed, her hands to the collar, there was a humming vibration in the air. After a moment, silence settled over the room, and then Richard heard a snapping sound. The Rada’Han cracked and fell away.

  Warren looked positively giddy at the sight of the broken collar. Richard wished it could
be that easy for him.

  “What are you going to do now, Warren?” Richard asked. “Are you going to leave the palace?”

  “Maybe. But I wish to study the books some more first, if the Sisters will allow it.”

  “They will allow it,” Sister Verna said. “I will see to it.”

  “Then, maybe I would like to travel to Aydindril, to the Wizard’s Keep, and study the books and prophecies you told me were kept there.”

  “That sounds a wise plan, Warren. Sister, I must be going.”

  “Warren,” she said, “why don’t you come along until I reach the valley? You are free, now.” She glanced to the balcony. “I think it would do you good to get away from here for a time, and think of other things. And I could use some help when we reach the valley, if Richard accomplishes what he thinks he will.”

  “Really? I would like that.”

  As the three of them lugged their gear toward the stables, three guards—Kevin, Walsh, and Bollesdun—spotted them and ran to catch up.

  “We may have found them, Richard,” Kevin said.

  “May have? What do you mean? Where are they?”

  “Well, last night, the Lady Sefa set sail. We talked to people down at the docks who said they saw some women, maybe the Sisters, go aboard. Most agree they saw six women go aboard in the darkness, just before she sailed.”

  “Sailed!” Richard groaned. “What’s the Lady Sefa?”

  “A ship. A big ship. They left with the tide late in the night. They have a good lead, and from what I hear, there isn’t a ship in port that can catch the Lady Sefa, or go as far to sea.”

  “We can’t go after them, and do your other task,” Sister Verna said.

  Richard shifted his pack in annoyance. “You’re right. If it’s really them, they’re gone for now, but I know where they’re going. We’ll have to deal with them later. At least the Palace of the Prophets is safe. We have more important things to tend to right now. Let’s get the horses, and be on our way.”

  Chapter 67

  Kahlan ran down the dark stone corridors and through the tomblike chambers. The first rays of light splashed golden patches against the coarse, dark gray granite wall opposite the windows as she raced up an east stairway. Her heart pounded with the effort. She had not stopped running since Jebra had told her that she had spied a light in the Wizard’s Keep: that Zedd was back.