to be something deep within Nicci worth loving.
     Regardless  of  Kahlan's   far-fetched  feelings,  her  perception  and
reasoning told

     her the truth of the matter: such impressions were illusion. If she got
the opportunity, she would not again hesitate for an instant to kill Nicci.
     "Cara,"  Richard said, glaring at  Nicci's back as she walked her horse
across the  meadow, "I don't  want you  even thinking  about  trying to stop
her."
     "I'm not going to allow-"
     "I mean it. I mean it more than any  order I've ever given you. If  you
ever brought Kahlan to harm in such a way . . . well, 1 trust you'd never do
such an evil thing to me. Why don't you go get dressed."
     Cara growled a curse under her breath. Richard  turned to Kahlan as the
Mord Sith marched off into  the house. Kahlan only then really  noticed that
Cara was naked. She must have been interrupted in her bath.  The magic Nicci
used had fogged Kahlan's mind, blurring her memory of recent events.
     Kahlan  did  recall quite clearly, though, the feel  of the  Agiel. The
shattering torture of the MordSith's weapon had spiked through Nicci's magic
like  a lance through  straw. Even though Cara had  used her Agiel on Nicci,
Kahlan felt it as  if it had been used directly against the  side of her own
neck.
     Kahlan gently touched Richard's jaw in sympathy,  then took hold of his
upper  arms  instead  when  he gave  her a look that  suggested no  need for
sympathy.  His  big hands closed on her waist. She stepped into  his embrace
and rested her forehead against his cheek.
     "This can't be," she whispered. "It just can't."
     "But it is."
     "I'm so sorry."
     "Sorry?"
     "That I let  her  take me  by surprise." Kahlan trembled with anger  at
herself. "I should have been alert. If I'd done as I should have, and killed
her first, it would never have come to this."
     Richard ran a hand gently down the back of her head, holding her to his
shoulder.
     "Remember how you killed me in a sword fight the other day?" She nodded
against  him. "We  all  make  mistakes, get  caught  off  guard. Don't blame
yourself. No one is  perfect. It could even  be that she cast a web of magic
to  dull  your awareness  so she could slip up  to you like . . . like  some
silent unseen mosquito."
     Kahlan had never  considered that.  Caught off guard or not, though, it
made her furious with herself. If only she had not  been paying attention to
the stupid chipmunk. If only she had looked up sooner. If only she had acted
without waiting a split second to  analyze  the true nature of the threat to
decide if it warranted the unleashing of her devastating magic.
     Almost from birth, Kahlan had been instructed in the  use of her power,
with the  mandate of unleashing it only upon being certain of the need. Much
like killing, a Confessor's  power was the destruction of  who a person was.
Afterward, the person acted exclusively on  behalf of the Confessor, and  at
the direction of the Confessor. It was as final as death.
     Kahlan  looked up  into Richard's gray eyes.  They looked  all the more
gray with the gray sky behind him.
     "My life is a precious and sacred thing to me," she said. "Yours  is no
less to you. Don't throw yours away to be a slave to mine.  I couldn't stand
it."
     "It's  not come to that yet. I'll figure something out. But for  now, I
have to go with her."

     "We'll  follow, but stay well back."  He was already shaking  his head.
"But, she won't even be aware-"
     "No.  For all we know, she could have  others with  her. They  could be
waiting to  catch you if you follow. I couldn't bear  the thought of knowing
that  at  any  moment  she  could use magic  or  somehow find  out you  were
following. If that happened, you would die for nothing."
     "You mean  you think she  could . .  . hurt you to  make you tell her I
planned to follow."
     "Let's not let our imaginations get the better of us."
     "But I should be close, for when  you make a move-for when you figure a
way to stop her."
     Richard cupped her face tenderly in his hands. He had a strange look in
his eyes, a look she didn't like.
     "Listen to me. I  don't know what's going on,  but you mustn't die just
to free me."
     Tears of desperation stung  her eyes. She blinked them away. She fought
to keep her voice from becoming a wail.
     "Don't go, Richard. I don't care what it means  for  me, as long as you
can be  free. I would die happy if doing so  would keep you from the enemy's
cruel  hands. I  can't allow the  Order to  have  you.  I can't allow you to
endure  the  slow grinding death of a slave in exchange for my life. I can't
allow them to-"
     She bit off the words of  what  she feared most; she  couldn't bear the
thought of him being tortured. It made her even more dizzy and sick to think
of him being maimed and mutilated, of him  suffering all alone and forgotten
in some distant stinking dungeon with no hope of help.
     But Nicci  said they wouldn't. Kahlan  told herself that, for  her  own
sanity, she had to believe Nicci's word.
     Kahlan realized Richard was smiling to  himself, as if trying to commit
to memory every detail of her face while at the same time running a thousand
other things through his thoughts.
     "There's no choice," he whispered. "I must do this."
     She  clutched  his  shirt  in  her  fist. "You're  doing just  as Nicci
wants-she knows  you'll want to save  me.  I  can't  allow  you to make that
sacrifice!"
     Richard looked up briefly, gazing out at the trees and mountains behind
their house, taking it all in, like a condemned man savoring his  last meal.
His gaze, more earnest, settled once more on hers.
     "Don't you see? I am making no sacrifice. I am making a fair trade. The
reality that you exist is my basis for joy and happiness.
     "I make  no  sacrifice," he  repeated,  stressing each  word. "To be  a
slave, even if that is what happens to me, and yet  know you're alive, is my
choice over being free in a world in which you don't exist. I can  live with
the first. I  can't,  with the second.  The  first is  painful,  the  second
unbearable."
     Kahlan beat a fist against his chest. "But you will be a slave or worse
and I can't bear that!"
     "Kahlan, listen to me. I will always have freedom in my heart because I
understand what it is. Because I do, I can work toward it. I will find a way
to be free.
     "I cannot find a way to bring you back to life.
     "The spirits know that in the past I've been willing to forfeit my life
for a just

     cause and if my life would truly make a difference. In the past, I have
knowingly  imperiled both  our lives,  been  willing to sacrifice  both  our
lives-but not in return  for nothing. Don't you see? This would be  a fool's
bargain. I'll not do it."
     Kahlan pulled her breaths in small gasps, trying to told back the tears
as well  as  her rising  sense of panic. "You're the Seeker. You must find a
way to freedom. Of  course you will. You will, 1 know." She forced a swallow
past  the constriction in her throat as  she  tried to reassure  Richard, or
perhaps herself. "You'll find a  way. I know you will. You'll find a way and
you'll come back. You did before. You will this time."
     The shadows of Richard's features seemed dark and severe,  cast as they
were in a mask of resignation.
     "Kahlan, you must be prepared to go on."
     "What do you mean?"
     "You must find joy in the fact that I, too, live. You  must be prepared
to go on with that knowledge and nothing else."
     "What do you mean, nothing else?"
     He  had  a terrible  look in his  eyes-some kind of sad,  grim,  tragic
acceptance. She didn't  want to look into his eyes, but, standing there with
her hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the  life within him,
she couldn't make herself look away as he spoke.
     "I think it's different this time."
     Kahlan pulled her  hair  back when  the  wind dragged it over her eyes.
"Different?"
     "There's  something very different about the  feel  of this. It doesn't
make sense in the way things  in the past have made sense. There's something
deadly serious  about Nicci. Something singular. She's planned  this out and
she's prepared to die for it. I can't lie to  you to deceive  you. Something
tells me that, this time, I may never be able to find a way to come back."
     "Don't say that." In weak fingers trembling with dread, Kahlan gathered
his dark  shirt into  a wrinkled  knot. "Please don't say that, Richard. You
must try. You must find a way to come back to me."
     "Don't ever think I won't be doing my best." His voice was impassioned,
almost to the point of sounding angry. "I swear to you, Kahlan, that as long
as there is a  breath in my lungs, I'll  never give up;  I'll  always try to
find a way. But we can't ignore the possibility just because it's painful to
contemplate: I may never be back.
     "You must face the fact that it looks  like you  must go on without me,
but with the knowledge that I'm alive, just as I will have that awareness of
you in my heart where no one can touch it. In our hearts, we have each other
and always will. That was the oath we swore when we were married-to love and
honor each other for all time. This  can't change it.  Distance can't change
it. Time can't change it."
     "Richard .  . ." She choked back her  wail, but she  couldn't keep  the
tears from coursing down her face. "I can't stand the thought of you being a
slave because of me. Don't you see that? Don't you see what that would do to
me? I'll kill myself if I must so that she can't do this to you. I must."
     He  shook  his head, the wind ruffling  his hair. "Then I would have no
reason to escape her. Nothing to escape for."
     "You  won't need  to escape, that's just it  she won't be  able to hold
you."
     "She's a Sister of the Dark." He threw open his hands. "She will simply
use another means I  won't know how  to counter-and if  you're dead, I won't
care to."
     "But-"

     "Don't you see?" He seized her by her shoulders. "Kahlan, you must live
to give me a reason to try to escape her."
     "Your own  life is your reason," she said.  "To be free to  help people
will be your reason."
     "The people be cursed." He released  her  and  gestured  angrily. "Even
people where I grew up turned against us. They tried to murder us. Remember?
The lands that have  surrendered into the  union with D'Hara will likely not
remain loyal, either, when they see the reality of the Imperial Order's army
moving up into the Midlands. Eventually, D'Hara will stand alone.
     "People don't understand or value freedom. The way it  now stands, they
won't fight for it.  They've proven it in Anderith, and in Hartland, where I
grew  up. What  more clear evidence could be seen? I hold out no false hope.
Most  of the rest  of  the Midlands will quail when it comes time  to  fight
against the  Imperial Order. When they see the size of the Order's  army and
their brutality with those who resist, they will surrender their freedom."
     He looked away from her, as if regretting his flash of  anger in  their
last moments  together.  His tall  form,  so  stalwart  against the sweep of
mountains and  sky, sagged a  little,  seeming to huddle closer to her as if
seeking comfort.
     "The only thing I have to hope for is to get away so I can come back to
you."  His voice had lost all traces of heat as he spoke in a  near whisper.
"Kahlan, please don't take that hope from me-it's all I have."
     In the  distance she could see the fox trotting across  the meadow. Its
thick, whitetipped tail followed  out straight behind as  the  fox  made its
inspection for any rodents that might be about. As Kahlan's gaze tracked its
movement, from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Spirit standing
proud and free in the window. How could she lose the man who had carved that
for her when she needed it most?
     She could, she knew, because now he  needed what  only  she  could give
him. Looking back up into his intense gray eyes, she realized she  could not
hope to deny him his earnest plea and only request, not at a time like this.
     "All right, Richard. I  won't do anything rash to free  you. I'll  wait
for you. I'll endure it.
     "I know  you. I know you won't ever give  up. You know I expect no less
from you. When you get away-and you will-I'll be waiting  for you, and  then
we'll be  together again. We'll never  be apart in our hearts.  As you said,
our oath of love is timeless."
     Richard closed his  eyes  with  relief. He tenderly kissed her brow. He
lifted her hand from his  chest and pressed soft kisses to her knuckles. She
saw then how much her pledge meant to him.
     Kahlan pulled her hand back and quickly removed  her necklace,  the one
Shota had given  her as  a wedding  gift.  It was meant to prevent her  from
getting  pregnant. She turned  Richard's hand over  and pushed the  necklace
into his palm. He frowned in confusion at the small, dark stone hanging from
the gold chain draped over his fingers.
     "What's this about?"
     "I want you to take  it." Kahlan cleared her throat to keep her  voice.
She could only manage a whisper. "I know what she wants of you-what she will
make you do."
     "No, that's not what . . ." He shook his head. He said, "I'm not taking
this," as if turning it away would somehow deny the possibility.

     Kahlan put her hand  to  the side of his face. His  face wavered before
her in a watery blur.
     "Please, Richard. Please take it. For me. I  couldn't  bear the thought
of  another woman having your child." Or even the thought of the attempt  at
its creation-but she didn't say that part of it. "Especially  not after mine
. . . "
     He looked away from her eyes. "Kahlan . . ." Words failed him.
     "Just do it for me. Take it.  Please, Richard. I'm doing as you ask and
will endure your captivity;  please honor  my request in return.  I couldn't
stand the thought of that bewitching blond beast having your child-the child
that should be mine. Don"you see? How could I  ever  love something I hated?
And how could I ever hate
     something that was  part  of you? Please, Richard, don't let it come to
that."
     The cold wind lifted and twisted her hair.  Her whole  life, it seemed,
was twisting out of her control. She could hardly believe that this place of
such joy, peace, and redemption, a place where  she had come to  live again,
could be a place where it would all be taken away.
     Richard held the necklace out to her, as if it were  a thing that might
bite him. The dark stone swung under his fingers, gleaming in the gloom.
     "Kahlan, I don't think that's what this is about. I  really  don't. But
anyway,  she could simply refuse  to  wear it  and  threaten  your life if I
didn't . . ."
     Kahlan pulled the  gold chain from  his fingers and  laid it  all  in a
small neat mound in his palm. The dark stone glimmered from its imprisonment
behind  the  veil  of  tiny  gold links. She closed  his fingers around  the
necklace and held his fist shut with both of her hands.
     "You're the one who demands we not ignore those things that are painful
to contemplate."
     "But if she refuses . . ."
     Kahlan gripped his fist tighter in her trembling  fingers. "If it comes
to a time when she  makes  that demand of you, you must convince her to wear
the necklace.  You must. For me. It's bad  enough for me to  think she might
take my love, my husband, from me like that, but to also fear . . ."
     His big hand felt so warm and familiar and comforting to her. Her words
came choked  with  desperate tears. She  could do no more than beg. "Please,
Richard."
     He  pressed his lips tight,  then nodded and stuffed the necklace  in a
pocket. "I don't believe those are her intentions, but if it should turn out
to be so, you have my word: she will wear the necklace."
     Kahlan sagged against him with a sob.
     He  took her by the arm. "Come on. Hurry. I have to get whatever I need
to take. I've only got a few minutes, or all this will be for nothing. I can
take the shorter trail  and still catch up with her at the top of  the pass,
but I don't have much time."


        CHAPTER 23

     Kahlan was aware of Cara, wearing her bloodred leather, standing in the
doorway to their  bedroom watching  Richard cram his things  into his  pack.
Kahlan nodded as she and Richard exchanged brief, stilted instructions. They
had already come to terms  with  the life-and-death issues. It  seemed  they
both feared  to  say  anything of  consequence for  fear of  disturbing  the
delicate, desperate, difficult agreements they had reached.
     The meager light coming in  the small window did little to brighten the
gloom.  Cara, over  in the doorway, blocked some  of the light. The room had
the feel  of  a  dungeon.  Richard, dressed in dark clothes, looked  like  a
shadow. So  many times, as she lay in bed recovering, Kahlan had thought  of
it that way-as her dungeon. Now it had the palpable sense of a  dungeon, but
with the clean aroma  of pine walls  instead  of the stench of a stone  cell
from where trembling, sweating prisoners were taken to their death.
     Cara looked  forlorn  one moment and  the  next like lightning  seeking
ground. Kahlan  knew that the Mord-Sith's  emotions had to be as torn as her
own, balancing on a knife's edge with despair and grief on one side and rage
on the other. MordSith were not used to being in such  a position, but then,
Cara was now more than simply Mord-Sith.
     Kahlan watched Richard pack the black trousers, black undershirt, black
and gold tunic, silver wristbands,  over-belt  with its  pouches, and golden
cloak  into  his pack, where they took up a  good  portion of the  available
space. He was wearing his dark forest garb; he didn't  have  time to change.
Kahlan hoped a  time would soon come when he would escape and again wear the
clothes of  a war wizard to toad them against the Order. They all needed him
to lead the D'Haran Empire against the invading horde from the Old World.
     For reasons that weren't  always entirely clear, Richard had become the
linchpin of their struggle. Kahlan knew his feelings about that-that  people
must be willing to fight for  themselves and not only for him-were valid. If
an idea was sound, it had to have a life beyond a leader, or the  leader had
failed.
     As he  threw other clothes and small items into his pack, Richard  told
Kahlan that maybe she could find Zedd, that  he  might have  some ideas. She
nodded  and said she would,  knowing Zedd wouldn't be able  to  do anything.
This terrible triangle  was not liable  to  be  susceptible  to influence by
outsidersNicci had seen to that. It was just a hope Richard was  giving her,
the only bouquet he could offer in the desolate void of reality.
     Kahlan didn't  know what to do  with her hands. She stood  twining  her
fingers together as tears  dripped off her chin. There must be  something to
say, something important, some last words while she  had the chance, but she
couldn't think of them.

     She supposed  he knew what she felt,  what was  in her heart, and words
couldn't add anything to that. She  pressed her fist against the aching knot
of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.
     A sense of doom crowded in the room like a fourth person,  a grim guard
waiting to take Richard away. This was the heart of terror, being controlled
by what you couldn't see, couldn't reason with, couldn't persuade or battle.
The doom waited, implacable, immune, indifferent.
     As Cara vanished from the doorway, Richard pulled a fistful of gold and
silver from an inside pocket in his leather pack. He hastily dropped roughly
half back in the pack and then held out the rest.
     "Take this. You might need it."
     "I'm the Mother Confessor. I don't need gold."
     He tossed it on the bed for her anyway, apparently not wanting to argue
with her in their last moments together.
     "Do you want any  of the carvings?" she asked. It was a stupid question
and she knew  it, but she had to fill the  awful silence and it was the only
thing to come into her head, other than a hopeless plea.
     "No.  I've no need for them. When you  look  at them,  think of me, and
remember I love you."  He rolled a blanket  tight, wrapped  it with  a small
patch of oiled canvas, and tied it with leather thongs to the  bottom of his
pack. "I guess if I were to want any, I could always carve some."
     Kahlan handed him a cake of soap.
     "I don't  need your carving to  remind me of your  love. I'll remember.
Carve something to make Nicci see that you should be free."
     Richard glanced up with a grim smile. "I plan on  seeing to it that she
knows  I  won't  ever  give  in  to  her  and the Order. Carvings  won't  be
necessary. She thinks she has this all planned out, but  she's going to find
out  I'm bad company." Richard jammed a  fist in his pack, making more room.
"Very bad company."
     Cara  rushed back in, carrying small bundles  with  the corners tied in
knots at the top. She plopped them down one at a time onto the bed.
     "I put together some food for you, Lord Rahl. Things that will keep for
traveling--dried meat and fish and such. Some rice and  beans. I . . . I put
a loaf of bread that I made on top, so eat it first, while it's still good."
     He thanked her  as he put the small  bundles into his pack. He  put the
bread to his nose for a  deep whiff before packing it away.  He gave  Cara a
smile of appreciation.
     Richard straightened. His  smile  evaporated in  a  way that  for  some
reason  made  Kahlan's blood go cold. Looking like  he  was in the throes of
committing himself  to  some last, grim deed, Richard pulled the baldric off
over  his head. He held the goldand-silver wrought scabbard in his left hand
and drew the Sword of Truth in his white-knuckled right fist.
     The blade  rang out  with its  unique  metallic  sound, announcing  its
freedom.
     Richard drew  his  sleeve  up his  arm and  wiped the sword  across his
forearm.  Kahlan  winced as  she  watched.  She didn't know if he cut deeply
accidentally, or on purpose. With an icy sensation she recalled that Richard
cut very precisely with any sharp steel edge.
     He turned the blade and  wiped both sides in gouts of  vivid red blood.
He bathed the  blade  in  it,  giving  it  a  voluptuous taste,  wetting its
appetite for more.  Kahlan didn't know what he was doing or why he was doing
it now, but it was a frightening

     ritual to  witness. She  wished  he  had drawn it before  and cut  down
Nicci. Her blood, Kahlan would not fear seeing.
     Richard picked up  the scabbard  and slammed the Sword  of Truth  home.
Blood running over his hand left greasy red smears across the scabbard as he
slid his  hand  down  the  length of it, to  the  tip, and  then  seized the
sheathed weapon at its center point in his fist. His head bowed, his eyes on
the dull silver and gold reflections lustrous even through his own blood, he
loomed closer to her.
     Richard looked up, and Kahlan saw  the lethal rage of magic  dancing in
his  eyes. He  had invoked the sword's terrible  wrath, called it forth, and
then put it away. She'd never seen him do such a thing before.
     He lifted the  sword in its scabbard to her. The tendons in the back of
his fist  stood out in  the strain. The white of his knuckles showed through
the blood.
     "Take it," he said in a hoarse voice that betrayed the struggle within.
     Spellbound, Kahlan lifted the scabbard in her palms. For  that instant,
until he pulled away his bloody  hand,  she felt a jolting shock  as  if she
were suddenly welded  to the weapon by hot fury unlike anything she had ever
experienced. She half expected to see a burst of sparks. She could feel such
rage emanating from the cold steel that it nearly dropped her  to her knees.
She might have dropped the weapon itself in that first instant, had she been
able to let go of it. She could not.
     Once Richard removed his hand, the sheathed  sword lost  the passionate
rage and felt no different from any other weapon.
     Richard  lifted a  finger in caution. The dangerous magic still  glazed
his eyes. The muscles of his jaw tightened until she could  see  it standing
out all the way up through his temples.
     "Don't  draw  this  sword," he  warned  in  that awful  hoarse whisper,
"unless it's a matter of your life. You know  the ghastly things this weapon
can do to a parson. Not only the  one under the power  of the blade, but the
one under the power of the hilt."
     Kahlan, arrested by  the  intensity of  his gaze, could  only nod.  She
clearly recalled the first  time  Richard  had used the sword to kill a man.
The first time he  came  to learn the horror of  killing had been to protect
her.
     Using the  weapon that first time, unleashing the magic the first time,
had nearly killed  Richard as well. It had been a struggle for  him to learn
how to control such a storm of magic as the Sword of Truth freed.
     Without the rage of the sword's magic,  Richard's eyes were  capable of
conveying menace. Kahlan could recall several times when his raptor's glare,
by itself, had brought a roomful of people to silence. There were few things
worse  than the  need  to escape  the look  in  those eyes. Now,  those eyes
hungered to deliver death.
     "Be angry if you must use this," he growled.  "Be very angry. That will
be your only salvation."
     Kahlan swallowed. "1 understand." She nodded. "I remember."
     Righteous rage  was the  only defense against the  crippling  pain  the
sword exacted as payment for its service.
     "Life or death. No other reason. I don't know what will happen, and I'd
just  as soon you  not  find out. But I'd prefer that, to you  being without
this terrible defense if you need it.  I've given it  a taste  of  blood, it
will come out voracious. When it comes out, it will be in a blood rage."
     "I understand."

     His  eyes  cooled  at  last.  "I'm  sorry  to  give  you  the  terrible
responsibility  of  this weapon,  especially in this way,  but it's the only
protection I can offer."
     With  a hand on his arm to gently  reassure him, Kahlan said, "I  won't
have to use it."
     "Dear spirits, I hope not." He glanced over his shoulder, taking a last
look at their room, and then at Cara. "I have to get going."
     She ignored his words. "Give me your arm, first."
     He  saw  she  had  bandages  left  over  from  when  Kahlan  was  still
recovering. Without objection, he held out his blood-soaked arm. Cara used a
wet cloth to quickly swab his arm before she wound it in clean bandages.
     Richard thanked  her as she was finishing. Cara split the  end, put the
tails around his  wrists, and tied a  quick knot. "We will come part of  the
way with you."
     "No. You will stay here." Richard pulled down his sleeve. "I don't want
to risk it."
     "But-"
     "Cara, I  want you to protect Kahlan. I'm leaving  her in your hands. I
know you won't let me down."
     Cara's big beautiful  blue eyes,  glistening  with tears, reflected the
kind of pain Kahlan was sure Cara never allowed anyone to see.
     "I swear to protect her as I would protect you, Lord Rahl, if you swear
to get away and return."
     Richard flashed her a brief smile, trying to ease her misery. "I'm Lord
Rahl-I don't need to remind you  that I've wiggled out of tighter spots than
this."  He kissed her cheek. "Cara, I swear I'll never give up trying to get
away-you have my word."
     Kahlan realized  he  hadn't really sworn to  Cara's words. He wouldn't,
she knew, want to make a promise he might not be able to keep.
     Bending to the bed, he pulled his pack close.  "I have  to go." He held
the strap in a stranglehold. "I can't be late."
     Kahlan's  fingers  tightened  on  his  arm,  Cara laid  a  hand on  his
shoulder. Richard turned back and gripped Kahlan's shoulders.
     "Listen to me, now. I wish you would stay here, in this  house in these
mountains where it's safe  for you,  but I don't think anything  short of my
dying request could convince you to do that. At least stay  for four or five
days, in case I'm able to figure  out what's going on and can  escape Nicci.
She may be a  Sister of the  Dark, but I'm no  longer  exactly a stranger to
magic.  I've  escaped powerful  people before. I've sent Darken Rahl back to
the underworld. I've gone  to  the Temple of  the Winds in another  world in
order to stop the plague. I've escaped worse than this. Who knows-this might
be  simpler than it seems. If  I do escape her, I'll come back here, so wait
for a while, at least.
     "If I can't  get away from Nicci for now, try  to find Zedd.  He  might
have some idea  of what to  do. Ann was  with him  the last time we saw him.
She's the Prelate of the Sisters of the Light and knew Nicci for a very long
time.  Perhaps she knows something that, along with what  Zedd might be able
to come up with, could help."
     "Richard, don't  worry  about me. Just take care  of  yourself. I'll be
waiting  for you when you get away, so just be at ease about that much of it
and put all your  effort into escaping from  her.  We'll  wait  here  for  a
while-I promise."
     "I will watch  over  her,  Lord  Rahl.  Don't worry  about  the  Mother
Confessor."
     Richard nodded. He  turned  back  to  Kahlan. His  fingers  on her arms
tightened. His brow drew down.

     "I know you and I know the way you  feel, but you have to listen to me.
The time  has  not yet come. It may never come.  You may think I'm  wrong in
this, but if you close your eyes to the reality of what is, in favor of what
you would wish just because you're the Mother Confessor and feel responsible
for the  people of  the  Midlands, then there is no reason for us to  bother
hoping we'll be  together again because we won't.  We will be dead,  and the
cause of freedom will be dead."
     His face loomed closer. "Above all else, our forces must not attack the
heart of the  Order's army.  It's too soon. If they-if you-carry  an assault
directly into the heart  of the Order thinking you  can win, it will  be the
end of  our forces,  and the  end of our  chances. All hope for the cause of
freedom, and all hope to defeat the  Order, will be lost for generations  to
come.
     "It's the same way we must use our heads with Nicci, and not  fight her
in a  direct attack, or we  will both die. You  promised you  would not kill
yourself to free me. Don't throw that promise away by going against what I'm
telling you now."
     It all  seemed  so  unimportant  at  the  moment. The only  thing  that
mattered was that she was losing him. She  would have cast  the  rest of the
world to the wolves if she could just keep him.
     "All right, Richard."
     "Promise me." His fingers were hurting her arms. He shook  her. "I mean
it. You could  throw it all away if  you don't heed my  warning.  You  could
destroy the hope of people for the next fifty  generations. You could be the
one who  destroys freedom and brings a dark  age upon the  world. Promise me
you won't."
     A thousand thoughts swirled in chaotic turmoil through her mind. Kahlan
stared  up into his eyes. She heard herself say, "I promise,  Richard. Until
you say so, we'll make no direct attack."
     He  looked  like  a great  weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A
smile spread  on  his  face as he pulled  her  into  an embrace. His fingers
combed into her hair and cradled her head as she rose to his kiss. Her hands
slipped up the backs of  his  shoulders  as she  held  him. It only lasted a
moment, but in that moment of stolen bliss, they shared a world of emotions.
     All too soon the kiss, the embrace, was over. His warm presence swirled
away from her, allowing the  awful weight of doom to settle firmly down atop
her. Richard briefly hugged Cara before he hefted his pack onto a  shoulder.
He turned back at the bedroom doorway.
     "I  love you,  Kahlan.  Never anyone before you, nor  ever after.  Only
you." His eyes said it even better.
     "You're everything to me, Richard. You know that."
     "I love you, too, Cara." He winked at her. "Take  good care of the both
of you until I'm back."
     "I will, Lord Rahl. You have my word as Mord-Sith."
     He gave her a crooked smile. "I have your word as Cara."
     And then he was gone.
     "I love you, too, Lord Rahl," Cara whispered to the empty doorway.
     Kahlan  and  Cara ran  into  the  main  room and  stood in  the doorway
watching him running across the meadow.
     Cara  cupped her hands around  her mouth. "I love you  too, Lord Rahl,"
she shouted.
     Richard turned as he ran and acknowledged her words with a wave.
     Together, they watched  Richard's dark figure  flying through  the dead
brown

     grass,  his  fluid  gait  swiftly carrying  him  away.  Just before  he
disappeared into the trees, he stopped and turned. Kahlan shared a last look
with  him,  a look  that said everything.  He  turned  and vanished into the
woods, his clothes making him impossible to  distinguish from the trees  and
undergrowth.
     Kahlan collapsed to her  knees, sitting back on her heels  as she  lost
control of her emotions. She wept helplessly, her head in her hands, at what
seemed the end of the world.
     Cara squatted beside  her to put  an arm around her  shoulders.  Kahlan
hated to have Cara see her cry that way, cry in  such  weakness.  She felt a
distant gratitude when Cara held  her  head to her shoulder and  didn't  say
anything.
     Kahlan didn't know  how long she  sat on the  dirt  floor in  her white
Confessor's dress, sobbing, but after a  time, she was  able to make herself
stop.  Her heart continued to spiral  down into hopeless gloom. Each passing
moment  seemed unendurable.  The bleak future stretched out  before  her,  a
wasteland of agony.
     She finally looked up and gazed about  at the house. Without Richard it
was empty. He had given it life. Now it was a dead place.
     "What do you wish to do, Mother Confessor?"
     It was getting dark. Whether it  was the sunset, or the clouds  getting
thicker, Kahlan didn't know. She wiped at her eyes.
     "Let's begin  to get our  things together. We'll stay here  a few days,
like  Richard  asked.  After that, anything the horses can't carry that will
spoil, we'd better bury. We should board up the windows. We'll  close up the
house good and tight."
     "For when we return to paradise, someday?"
     Kahlan nodded as she looked about, trying desperately to focus her mind
on a task  and not on that which would crush her. The worst part, she  knew,
was going to be night. When she was alone in bed. When he wasn't with her.
     Now,  the  valley seemed  more  like  paradise lost.  She  had  trouble
believing that Richard was really gone. It seemed as if he  were just off to
catch some  fish, or  hunt berries,  or  scout  the hills. It  seemed as if,
surely, he would be coming back soon.
     "Yes, for when we return. Then it  will be paradise again. I guess when
Richard returns, wherever we are will be paradise."
     Kahlan noticed  that  Cara didn't  hear  her answer.  The Mord-Sith was
staring out through the doorway.
     "Cara, what is it?"
     "Lord Rahl is gone."
     Kahlan  rested a comforting hand on  Cara's shoulder. "I know it hurts,
but we must put our minds to-"
     "No." Cara turned back. Her  blue  eyes  were strangely  troubled. "No,
that's not what I mean. I mean that I can't sense him. I can't feel the bond
to Lord Rahl. I know where he is-he's going up the trail up to that pass-but
I can't feel it." She looked panicked. "Dear spirits, it's like going blind.
I don't know how to find him. I can't find Lord Rahl."
     Kahlan's first  flash of fear was  that he fell and was killed, or that
Nicci had executed him. She used reason to force the fear aside.
     "Nicci knows about the bond.  She probably used her magic to  cloak it,
or to sever it."
     "Cloaked it,  somehow." Cara rolled her  Agiel  in her fingers. "That's
what it  has to be. I can still feel my  Agiel, so I know that Lord Rahl has
to be alive. The  bond is  still there . . . but I cannot feel  it  to sense
where he is."

     Kahlan sighed with relief. "That has to be it, then. Nicci doesn't want
to be followed, so she cloaked his bond with magic."
     Kahlan realized that to be protected from  the dream walker by the bond
to Richard, people would  now have to believe in him without the reassurance
of feeling the bond. Their link would have to remain true in their hearts if
they were to survive.
     Could they do that? Could they believe in that way?
     Cara stared out  the doorway, across  the meadow to the mountains where
Richard had disappeared. The blue-violet sky  behind the blue-gray mountains
was  slashed  with  blazing orange gashes. The snowcaps were lower than they
had been. Winter was  racing toward them. If Richard didn't soon  escape and
return, Kahlan and Cara would have to be gone before it arrived.
     Bouts of dizzying grief  threatened  to drown her in a flood of  tears.
Needing to do something,  she went to her room to  take  off her Confessor's
dress.  She  would set to work with the  task of closing up  the  house  and
preparing to leave.
     As Kahlan pulled her dress off, Cara appeared in the doorway.
     "Where are we going to go, Mother Confessor? You said we  were going to
leave, but you never said where we were going to go."
     Kahlan saw Spirit standing  in the  window, fists at  her sides  as she
looked out at the world. She lifted the carving off the sill and trailed her
fingers over the flowing form.
     Seeing the statue, touching it,  feeling the  power of it,  made Kahlan
want  to reach deep  inside for resolve. Once before, she had been hopeless,
and Richard  carved  this for her. Her other hand fell to her  side, and her
fingers found Richard's  sword  lying across their  bed. Kahlan focused  her
mind, ordering the turbulent swirl of despair thickening into wrath.
     "To destroy the Order."
     "Destroy the Order?"
     "Those beasts  took my unborn  child, and  now they've taken Richard. I
will make them regret it a thousand times  over and then another thousand. I
once  swore an oath of death without mercy to the Order. The time has  come.
If killing every last one of them is the  only way to get Richard back, then
that's what I will do."
     "You swore an oath to Lord Rahl."
     "Richard said nothing about  not killing them, just about how. My  oath
was not to try to drive a sword through  their heart. He said  nothing about
bleeding  them to death  with a thousand cuts. I won't  break my oath, but I
intend to kill every last one of them."
     "Mother Confessor, you must not do that."
     "Why?"
     Cara's blue eyes gleamed with menace. "You must leave half for me."

        Chapter 24

     Richard had  stopped to turn back and look at her only once  as he ran,
just before he went  into  the trees. She was standing in the doorway in her
white Confessor's  dress, her  long thick  hair tumbling  down, her form the
embodiment of feminine grace, looking  as beautiful as the first time he saw
her. They held each other's gaze for a brief moment. He was  too far away to
see the green of her eyes, a color he'd never beheld on anyone else, a color
of  such  heart-piercing  perfection  that  it  sometimes  would   stop  his
breathing, and at other times quicken it.
     But it  was the mind  of the woman  behind those  eyes  that in reality
captivated him. Richard had never met her equal.
     He knew he was cutting the time close. As much  as he hated the idea of
turning his gaze away from Kahlan, her life hung in the balance. His purpose
was clear. Richard had plunged into the woods.
     He had traveled the trail often enough; he knew where he could run, and
where he had to be careful. Now, with little time left,  he couldn't  afford
to be too careful. He didn't try for a glimpse of the house.
     He was alone in  the woods  as he ran, his  thoughts  but salt in a raw
wound. For once he  felt out of place in the woods-powerless, insignificant,
hopeless. Bare branches clattered together in the wind, while others creaked
and moaned, as  if in mock  sorrow to see him leaving. He tried not to think
as he ran.
     Fir and spruce trees took  over  as the  ground rose out of the valley.
His breath came in rapid pulls. In the cold shadows of the forest floor, the
wind was  a  distant  pursuer far overhead,  chasing after him, shooing  him
along, hounding him  away from the happiest place he had  ever  been. Spongy
mounds of verdant moss  lay dotting the forest floor in the low places where
mostly cedars grew,  looking like