Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3 tsot-11

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard sighed with grasping just how far behind Jagang’s true motives they truly were. “No wonder he hasn’t been worried about opening the boxes before now. He needed to get here, first. Taking the People’s Palace has been part of his larger goal all along. He’s known all this time what he needed to do.”

  “Seems that way,” she admitted.

  Berdine stepped through the melted opening into the tomb. “Lord Rahl, there you are.”

  Richard turned. “What is it?”

  “I found this book,” she said, holding it up as she strode across the room, as if waving the book would explain everything. “It’s in High D’Haran. When I translated some if it and realized what it was, Verna told me to get it to you right away.”

  Nicci took the book from Berdine when the Mord-Sith held it out to her. She opened the cover and started scanning the text.

  “So, what is the book about?” Richard asked Berdine.

  “It’s about Jillian’s people. Her ancestors from Caska, anyway.”

  “The dreamcasters . . .” Nicci whispered to herself as she followed along in the book.

  Richard frowned. “What?”

  “Nicci’s right,” Berdine said. “It’s about how the people in Caska were able to cast dreams. Verna said to tell you that.”

  “All right, thanks.”

  “Well, I need to get back. There are some other books Verna needs to have translated. And don’t forget,” she said over her shoulder as she started away, “sometime I need to tell you the things I found out for you before—about Baraccus.”

  Richard nodded to the Mord-Sith’s quick smile.

  Nicci tucked the book under her arm. “Thanks, Berdine. As soon as we’re finished here, we’ll look into it.”

  Richard watched Berdine leaving for a moment, then gestured to the inscriptions on the walls. “This all looks rather disturbing. Do you know the exact nature of the spells outlined here? A number of the elements look vaguely familiar.”

  “They should,” Nicci answered cryptically. She pointed out one of the inscriptions on the far wall. “See there? It’s instructions from a father to a son on the process of going to the underworld and returning.”

  “You mean, Panis Rahl wanted to pass these spells down to Darken Rahl, so they were chiseled in the walls of his tomb?”

  “No,” Nicci said, shaking her head. “I believe that these spells have been passed down through the House of Rahl for countless generations—from each father to his gifted offspring who would become the next Lord Rahl. From each father to his son. They are, in a way, your birthright.”

  Richard felt rather overwhelmed with the thought of it. “How old do you think they are? And why pass down spells on going to the underworld?”

  “From the composition of these spells, my guess is that they have existed from the time Orden itself was created.” Nicci looked over out of the corner of her eye. “I believe that to use the power of Orden, these spells may be necessary.”

  Richard rounded on her. “What?”

  “Well, from what I read in the books that explained Orden, like The Book of Life, and some of the books on Ordenic theory, I’ve come to believe that the purpose of such a requirement has to do with the problem of how Subtractive Magic was used in the ignition of a Chainfire event.”

  “You mean the problem with memories being eliminated?”

  Nicci nodded. “Why can’t the rest of us remember Kahlan? Why can’t she remember who she was? Why can’t we use our gift to heal people who have forgotten Kahlan, or heal Kahlan? Why can’t our gift restore those memories?”

  Richard recognized Nicci, the instructor, asking her student to provide the answer on his own. Richard was more than familiar with the technique. Zedd had used it on Richard his whole life.

  “Because those memories are gone. There is nothing to restore.”

  “And how were they taken?” Nicci asked, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

  Richard thought it was obvious. “Through Subtractive Magic.”

  Nicci only stared at him, as if waiting for more.

  Understanding dawned on him.

  “Dear spirits,” he said in a whisper. “Subtractive Magic is the magic of the underworld.” He stepped closer to her. “Are you saying that in order to use the power of Orden, going to the underworld is necessary because those things that were taken with Subtractive Magic are only able to be recovered there?”

  “If memories are to be rebuilt, there must be a kernel to grow them from. The memory you have of her is your memory, not Kahlan’s missing memory, not Zedd’s, not Cara’s—not anyone else’s. The substance of their missing memory is what is gone from this world. It no longer exists. Not here, anyway.”

  Richard couldn’t even blink. “And that core of the memory taken from the minds of the victims of Chainfire was taken away by Subtractive Magic. So if it still exists at all, it only exists in the underworld.”

  Nicci gestured around at the High D’Haran words cut into the granite walls and on the casket. “The Book of Life, which Darken Rahl had to have read to have put the boxes of Orden in play, says that part of the process of invoking Orden is going to the underworld.”

  “But what memory would Darken Rahl have recovered when he traveled to the underworld?”

  “Invoking Orden requires prescribed steps. Going to the underworld is one of the steps to be performed in the sequence of invoking Orden.” She gestured to the walls. “Those steps.”

  “But those references say only that going to the underworld is required. Why don’t they lay out the purpose of the journey?”

  “The purpose of that journey is to recover the core of memories, but Orden doesn’t know what is necessary, or who the object of Chainfire was going to be, so it only provided for the step to be undertaken. It doesn’t say what must be done there. It is just a tool for the person trying to reverse Chainfire. It is up to them to do what is necessary when undertaking that journey.

  “Berdine is the one who first showed me The Book of Life. She knew where it was because she had seen Darken Rahl using it. He went to the underworld. These inscriptions here are part of the formula for invoking the spells necessary to do that.”

  “But Darken Rahl wasn’t trying to restore memories lost to Chainfire.”

  Nicci shrugged. “No, he was using Orden to gain power for himself. It was up to him what he would do once he was there. He probably didn’t understand the true purpose of going to the underworld. He probably assumed that it was merely a step to be performed, a part of a complex ritual.”

  Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. “Kahlan told me that he had traveled the underworld.”

  Nicci again gestured to the inscriptions. “This is part of how he did it.”

  “But how in the world am I to do such a thing?”

  “According to this, you can’t do it by yourself. It requires a guide. Not just a guide, but a guide whom the person embarking on such a journey had to win over and who is now absolutely loyal—even in death.”

  “A good spirit I can trust with my life.”

  She nodded and then pointed at a place in the inscriptions. “See here? This is a spell for calling the guide from the underworld to come and take you where you must go.”

  Feeling rather sick at the thought, Richard looked around at the writing. He pointed to one of the places in the High D’Haran script, then another place on a different wall. “Look here, at these references. These spells require sorcerer’s sand.”

  “They certainly do. Perhaps we had better ask the crypt staff where they found that grain of it you have in your pocket.”

  Overwhelmed by the things he was learning, Richard had almost forgotten why they had come down to the tomb in the first place.

  “You’re right,” Richard said as he signaled Cara to bring the six people in white robes into the tomb.

  The six hurried to follow after her like chicks following a mother quail. Richard waited for the covey to gather. They
all peered up at him expectantly.

  “You all did a great service by finding that grain of sand. Thank you for being so attentive.”

  By the way they beamed, Richard didn’t think that a Lord Rahl had ever thanked them before.

  He laid a hand gently on the shoulder of the one woman. “Can you show me where you found the grain of sand you brought me?”

  She looked to the others and then knelt down before the gold casket in the center of the room. She pointed at the floor under one corner of the casket resting a few feet up on a pedestal. She crooked the finger at Richard.

  He knelt down beside her, ducking his head under the casket when she did so. She pointed up at a corner on the bottom of the casket that was separating.

  Richard rapped on the corner with the heel of his hand. Some sand poured out, the tiny grains bouncing across the white marble floor.

  Richard stood in a rush. He shared a startled look with Nicci.

  “Bring me your axe,” he called to one of the First File watching from the hallway just outside the room.

  The man quickly dipped his head through the melted opening and rushed over to hand Richard his axe.

  Richard forced the razor-sharp edge into the tight joint where the top was fitted to the rest of the casket. He wiggled the blade, forcing it in deeper. As he rocked the handle, the top began to loosen and lift.

  With Nicci’s help, he raised the top off the casket. When he signaled with a tilt of his head, the crypt staff and the soldier took the weight of it from Richard and Nicci and set it aside.

  The inside of the casket was filled to the brim with sorcerer’s sand.

  Richard stood staring down at it a moment. Light from the torches reflected from the sand in a broad spectrum of tiny sparkles of color.

  He gently brushed the sand away from the body beneath. There, embedded in the sorcerer’s sand, appeared the charred skull of Panis Rahl, his grandfather, still bearing the burns of wizard’s fire that Zedd, his other grandfather, used to destroy the tyrant. A few drops of that living fire had splashed onto the young Darken Rahl, engendering in him a burning hatred for Zedd and all who opposed the rule of the House of Rahl.

  “Now I know why this place is melting,” Nicci said. “It’s a sympathetic reaction to the Subtractive Magic that was used to open one of the boxes of Orden up in the Garden of Life.”

  Richard looked over at her. “So it’s a harmonic response after having been in the vicinity of that specific power.”

  With the edge of a finger Nicci carefully pushed some stray grains back inside the coffin. “That’s right. This was the safest place Darken Rahl could find to store sorcerer’s sand in case he needed more. He died before ever using this here, so it was left hidden here for the last several years. But it’s still hot from the sympathetic reaction. That’s why the room started to melt. This place isn’t a proper containment field for this.”

  “Don’t tell me—the Garden of Life is constructed as a containment field for such things.”

  Nicci blinked at him as if he had just suggested that water was wet. “Of course.”

  “Then we need to get this up to the Garden of Life.”

  Nicci nodded. “Verna and her Sisters can do it, with Nathan’s help. They can get this moved for us.” Nicci took hold of his arm with a fierce urgency. “Now that we have the sorcerer’s sand in which to draw the spells, we need to get back to our studies. We may not have much time left.”

  “I’m not arguing. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 49

  “I don’t feel anything,” Richard said.

  Sitting cross-legged on a wedge of white stone set in the otherwise complete ring of grass that swept in a circle around the sorcerer’s sand, he looked up at Nicci standing behind him with her arms folded, watching him draw the spells.

  “You’re not supposed to feel anything. You’re constructing spells, not making love to a woman.”

  “Oh. I thought I would . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Swoon?”

  “No, I mean feel some connection to my gift, some kind of nervous fervor, or delirium . . . or something.”

  Her blue eyes slowly surveyed the latest components. “Some people like to add in emotional elements when they draw spell-forms because they like to feel the rush of their heart pounding, the pit of their stomach tightening, or their skin crawling—that sort of thing—but it’s entirely unnecessary. Mere theatrics. They think they should moan and sway when they’re doing such things.”

  Her eyes turned to him, an eyebrow arching with a taunting expression. “If you want, I can show you how. It might make a long night a little more entertaining.”

  Richard knew she was just trying to teach him something about the reality of what he was doing by making him feel silly for interjecting the remnants of superstition into what she was trying to teach him was an exacting methodology. It was the kind of lesson that Zedd used to use, the kind of lesson that stuck, that wouldn’t be forgotten as so often happened with an equivocal response.

  “Some people like to be naked every time they draw the spell-forms,” she added.

  “No, thanks.” Richard cleared his throat. “I can do without moaning, or my heart racing, or my skin crawling, or being naked as I draw.”

  “I thought you might feel that way. That’s why I never suggested such additions to the basics.” She gestured to the drawings in the sand. “Whether or not you feel anything, your gift contributes what is essential. The spell-forms do what they need to do as long as you give them the correct elements, in the right order, added at the right time. Don’t worry, though, there will be things you must draw naked,” she added.

  Richard knew about those spell-forms. He didn’t like to dwell on them any more than necessary.

  Nicci cocked her head a little as she gazed down critically at the angled double lines he was drawing. “Kind of like making bread. If you add the right things, in the right way, the dough does what it’s supposed to do. Shivering and shaking doesn’t help the dough rise or the bread bake.”

  “Uh-huh,” Richard said as he went back to dragging a finger through the sorcerer’s sand, folding an arc around the angled element. “Just like bread. Except that if you do it wrong it can kill you.”

  “Well, I’ve had bread that I thought might kill me,” she murmured absently as she carefully watched what he was doing, her body leaning almost as if to help him curve the line just so.

  Nicci had been able to re-create some of the elements he was drawing from the book Berdine had brought to them when they’d been in Panis Rahl’s tomb. Some of the spell-forms had been broken down and diagrammed in the book. For others, Nicci’s understanding and experience were invaluable, enabling her to infer some of the remaining parts of the spell-forms from the text alone. In that way she had re-created everything necessary.

  Richard had been worried that the book didn’t actually illustrate everything that the process needed, and that Nicci might be inferring wrongly. She had told him that they had a great many very real things to worry about, but that particular concern wasn’t one of them.

  For Richard, this was also a practical test, a chance to use the things he had been studying day and night before the challenge that was to come, the one that would take him into the world of the dead. They didn’t have the boxes, of course, but once the boxes were in play there were preliminary procedures that could be done without them. Those measures, considering how dangerous they were, were not something that Richard was looking forward to, but he had no choice. If he wanted to get Kahlan back, along with everything else he needed to accomplish, then there were things he was simply going to have to do, no matter how much he feared them.

  At least his ancient benefactor, First Wizard Baraccus, had left a number of clues to help him. Now that Richard had been reconnected with his gift, he also needed to recover the book that Baraccus had left for him: Secrets of a War Wizard’s Power. If there was ever a time that he needed the information that wou
ld be contained in that book, now was that time.

  The book, along with the war wizard outfit, much of which also used to belong to Baraccus, was hidden in the castle down in Tamarang, not far from the wilds. Unfortunately that was also where Richard had last seen Six, just before Commander Karg had captured him and taken him to the Imperial Order encampment.

  As Richard carefully drew the spell-forms, he was also impatient for the emperor to start losing sleep, start feeling tense and distracted. He had been confident and sure of himself for long enough. It was time for Jagang to start having nightmares.

  Richard could just hear the harsh croaks coming through the glass above them. He glanced up and saw Jillian’s raven, Lokey, perched on the framework of the glass, watching them. From high in the sky the raven had followed his lifelong friend throughout her captivity, feasting on the ample refuse throughout the camp. Lokey had seemed to consider the whole thing, as he considered most things in life, nothing more than a curious holiday.

  Jillian had known that Lokey was there, but she never let on lest one of Jagang’s guards shoot the bird with an arrow. Lokey was a wary bird, though, and seemed to vanish whenever anyone took notice of him. Jillian said that a few times when she came out of Jagang’s tent she saw the raven fly high above and do stunts to show off for her.

  Being a captive of Jagang, though, Jillian hadn’t been cheered by the antics of her raven. She had been in a state of constant terror.

  A few flakes of snow were beginning to collect in the corners of the leaded glass. Against the night sky the inky black bird was mostly invisible. Sometimes only its bill and its eyes reflecting the torchlight could be seen, giving it the appearance of a ghostly apparition watching them.

  From time to time the raven tilted its head as if it, too, were evaluating Richard’s tedious work. As it flapped its wings to animate its raucous caws, moonlight appearing from time to time between the scudding clouds reflected off its glossy black feathers.

  The raven was impatiently waiting to do its part.

  “Are you ready?” Richard asked, still concentrating as he drew a line in the sorcerer’s sand.