, off the blade. Before Richard could finish him, more men burst into the hall. The man with the gut wound wasn't going to be a problem anymore; it would take him hours of agony to die. Richard retreated through the dark doorway, tempting men in after him. He stood still in the dark, and as they rushed in, panting, crunching debris beneath the balls of their feet as they turned, Richard located them by sound alone and cut them down. Half a dozen men died in the pitch black room before the rest ran. Richard raced onward toward the sounds of explosions. Every time gouts of flame flashed through the morass of hallways, he hid his eyes with a hand in order to preserve his night vision. When the blinding flashes ceased, he quickly continued in the direction from which they had come. There were mile upon mile of halls in the palace. Some opened out into grounds where nothing had yet been built. Others went along between walls open overhead. Still others tunneled through the darkness, enclosed by upper floors or roofs. Richard descended stairs into blackness, into the palace underground, following the roar of conjured flames. Down below the main floor were networks of interconnected rooms, made up of a confusing snarl of chambers and narrow halls. As he plunged through a labyrinth of shadowy rooms, going through holes in unfinished walls and empty doorways, he came suddenly upon a cloaked man with a sword. He knew none of the people were armed. The man spun around, his sword leading, but since Richard was disguised in robes, he knew the man might not be a true foe. In a flash of moonlight, Richard was stunned to see the Sword of Truth over the shoulder of the person. It was Kahlan. He froze in shock. She saw only a figure in brown robes-a brother-standing in a shaft of moonlight. The hood shadowed his face. In the same instant, before he could call her name, he saw, over Kahlan's shoulder, someone running their way. Nicci. In one terrible blinding instant, Richard knew what he had to do. It was his only chance-Kahlan's only chance-to be free. In that crystal clear instant of understanding, terror flashed through him. He didn't know if he could do it. He had to. Richard drew his sword and blocked Kahlan's thrust. And then he attacked her. He drove into her with controlled violence, careful not to hurt her. He knew how she fought. He knew because he had taught her. He played the role of a clumsy, but lucky, opponent. Nicci was getting closer. Richard couldn't drag it out. It had to be timed just right. He waited until Kahlan was slightly off balance and then with a powerful clash, caught her sword near the cross guard. She cried out with the shock as her sword flew from her hand and the blow spun her around, just as he had intended. She didn't hesitate for an instant. Without pause, still spinning, her hand reached up and pulled free the Sword of Truth. The air rang with the unique sound of steel he knew so well. Kahlan whirled around, the blade leading. He saw for a split second the terrible violent rage in her eyes. It hurt him to see that in Kahlan's beautiful eyes. He knew what it did to a person. Richard entered a numb world all his own. He knew what he had to do. He felt no emotion. He blocked high, controlling her attack and where he wanted her to go with the blade. He had to get her to put it where he intended, if there was to be any chance. Teeth gritted, Kahlan drove her sword for the opening he deliberately left her. --]---- Kahlan was in the realm of uncontrollable rage. The instant she seized the hilt, the Sword of Truth had inundated her with pounding fury. Nothing in the world felt better than knowing she was going to kill with it. The weapon, too, demanded blood. These people had Richard. These brothers had twisted their lives. These men had sent murderers to her homeland. These men had sent assassins to slaughter Warren. Now, she had one of them. She screamed as she spun, screamed with the rage, screamed with the demand for blood. It was glorious to have the object of such perfect rage within reach. He made a mistake-leaving an opening. Without hesitation, she went for it with cold fury, the blade leading. He was hers. --]---- Richard felt the blade hit him. It was shocking. It felt unlike what he expected. It felt something like he imagined the mighty blow of the sledgehammer on the statue might feel. His mouth opened. Now was the time; he had to stop her-keep her from doing any more. He had to do it now. If she wrenched the blade through him, ripped him open any more, Nicci would never be able to heal him. Her power could only heal so much. Nicci would have to free Kahlan from the spell in order to regain the use of her sorceress's magic-in order to heal him. He reasoned that she cared enough for him to do that. Richard's mouth was open as he felt the blade still driving through him. It was a sickening shock. Even expecting it, as he had, it still seemed unreal. It still surprised him. He needed to tell her it was him. To stop. He needed at least to call out her name so she would stop without doing too much damage. His mouth was still open. He had no breath. He couldn't make himself say her name. --]---- As she searched frantically for Richard, Nicci saw the two people battling. One was a brother. The other she didn't recognize, yet there was something deeply unsettling about it all. Nicci felt a strange stirring. The feeling was oddly familiar, but in all the confusion of emotion, she just didn't recognize it. They were a good distance away. The man in the cape lost his sword. It looked as if the brother had him. Nicci wanted to help-but how? She had to find Richard. Someone said they saw him go into the palace. She had to find him. She ran toward the pair. The man pulled free another sword strapped over his shoulder. The strange feeling welled up in Nicci. Something was terribly wrong, but she didn't know what. And then she saw the brother make a mistake. Nicci halted. With a cry of lethal fury, the man in the cape drove his sword through the brother. When the force of the blow drove the brother back a step, a shaft of moonlight fell across his face under in the cowl of the hood. And then the feeling slammed into her with full recognition. Nicci's eyes went wide. She screamed. --]---- "Kahlan. Stop." Kahlan's eyes twitched up in shock. She saw his face in the moonlight. In that same instant, he heard Nicci scream. Kahlan recoiled, her hand flying from the hilt of the Sword of Truth as if she had been struck by lightning. She fell back with a horrified shriek. Richard seized the blade of the sword, his sword, to keep the weight from twisting it in him. She had driven it through him almost up to the cross guard. Warm blood ran down the blade onto his fingers. "Richard!" Kahlan cried. "Nooo! Nooo!" Richard felt his knees hit the stone floor. He was surprised it didn't hurt more to have a sword through him. It was the shock of it, mostly, that had scrambled his mind. It was hard to think. He struggled not to fall forward, fall on the blade and wrench it through his insides. The room seemed to be moving. "Pull it out," he whispered. He wanted it out. As if that would help. He wanted the awful thing out. He could feel the razor sharp edges all the way through him. He could feel it sticking out his back. Kahlan, nearly hysterical, scrambled to do as he asked. Richard saw Cara limping up out of the darkness. She seized his shoulders as Kahlan drew out the blade in one swift, panicked yank, as if she hoped the action would somehow undo what she had done. "What happened?" Cara cried. "What did you do?" The world seemed to tip and whirl. Richard could feel the sickeningly wet warmth of his blood soaking down him. He could feel his weight against Cara. Kahlan hovered close. "Richard! Oh, dear spirits, no. This can't be happening. It can't." Panicked tears streamed down her beautiful face. He couldn't understand what she was doing here. Why was she in the Old World? What was she doing in the emperor's palace? He couldn't help smiling at seeing her. He wondered if she had seen his statue before he destroyed it. He wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. No, it was Kahlan's only chance at freedom. His only chance to break Nicci's spell. Nicci was still running toward them. "Help me, Nicci," Richard called. It came out as little more than a whisper. "I need you to save me, Nicci. Please." Even if it was no more than a whisper, Nicci heard his plea. --]---- Nicci had never run so fast. Terror had her in its fierce grip. Kahlan had stabbed her sword through him. It was a terrible mistake. It was all such a terrible mistake. Nicci had brought such pain to them both. It was her fault. Even in her shock, Nicci knew with clarity what she must do. She could heal him. Kahlan was there. Nicci couldn't begin to imagine why, or how, but she was. With Kahlan there, Nicci could break the spell. Once the spell was broken, Nicci could use her gift. She could heal Richard. It was all right. She could save him. It would be all right. She could fix it. She could. She could do something right and help-really help-for once. She could help them both. An arm swept out of the darkness and hooked her by the neck, taking her from her feet. She cried out as she was yanked into the blackness. She could feel the bulge of hard muscles as she clawed at the arm. The man stank. She could feel his lice ticking against her face as they sprang at her. Terror seized her. Such sudden and intense terror was an unfamiliar sensation, smothering her mind. She dug her heels into the stone as he drew her back into the black labyrinth. She kicked furiously at him. She tried to draw her dacra from her sleeve, but he seized her arm and twisted it behind her back. His forearm crushed against her exposed throat, choking off her air as he lifted her from her feet. Nicci couldn't breathe. He chortled with glee as he dragged her into the darker recesses of the rooms beneath Jagang's palace. --]---- Their eyes met just when she had been abruptly and violently snatched into the darkness. Richard saw in those eyes something important, saw that Nicci intended to help him. But she was gone. Cara desperately clutched his shoulders as he lay back against her. He was cold. She was warm. Kahlan fell back, writhing in the darkness. She clawed at her throat. He could hear her choking. "Mother Confessor! Mother Confessor! What's wrong?" Richard reached up and seized Cara behind her head. He pulled her face close. "Someone has Nicci. They're choking her. Cara-you have to go save Nicci, or Kahlan will die. And Nicci is the only one who can heal me. Go. Hurry." He felt Cara nodding before he released her head. "I understand" was all she said as she gently, but swiftly, laid him back on the cold stone. And then she was gone. It was wet. He didn't know if it was blood, or water. They were underground, in the nether reaches of the Retreat. Through open beams where the flooring above hadn't been laid, moonlight flooded down to light Kahlan struggling not far away. He could see, then, as she fought an invisible foe, that it was water. That's what it was. Not blood. Water. The palace was next to the river. It was wet in the little rooms and halls down in the bottom. "Kahlan," he murmured. She didn't respond. "Hold on. . ." Gripping his abdomen, holding the wound closed lest his insides burst out, he inched his way through the water, across the cold stone. The pain had finally and firmly arrived. He could feel the terrible damage inside. He tried to blink away the tears of hot agony. He had to hold on. Icy sweat drenched his face. Kahlan had to hold on. His hand, covered in blood, reached out to her. His fingers found hers. She hardly responded, but at least her fingers moved. He was thankful beyond words that her fingers moved. It had been a good plan. He was sure it was. It would have worked, if only someone hadn't snatched Nicci. Would have worked. It seemed a stupid way to die, really. He thought it should be somehow more . . . grand. Not in a dark, cold, wet palace underground. He wished he could tell Kahlan that he loved her, and that she hadn't killed him but that he had done it. It was his doing, not hers. He'd just used her in his plan. It would have worked. "Kahlan," he whispered, not knowing if in her stillness she could hear him any longer. "I love you. No one else. Just you. I'm glad we had our time together. I wouldn't trade it for anything." --]---- Richard opened his eyes and groaned in agony. He wanted it to end. It hurt too much. Now, he just wanted it to end. It hadn't worked. He would have to pay the price. But he wanted the sickening, ripping, terrifying pain to end. He didn't know how much time had passed. He looked and saw Kahlan sprawled on the wet floor. She wasn't moving. A shadow fell across him. "Well, well. Richard Cypher." Neal chuckled. "Imagine that." He chuckled again as he glanced at Kahlan. "Who's the woman?" Richard could sense the Sword of Truth, sense its magic. It wasn't far from his fingers. "Don't know. She's killed me. Must be one of yours." Richard's fingers found the sword. They curled around the wire-wound hilt. Neal stepped on the blade. "Can't have any of that. You've caused enough trouble." A glow ignited around Neal's fingers. He was conjuring magic. Lethal magic. Richard, in his barely conscious condition, despite his need, could not focus his mind, could not call forth his own ability to do anything to stop Neal. At least, the pain would end. At least, Kahlan wouldn't think it was she who had killed him. Richard heard a sudden, terrible, bone-snapping crack. Neal dropped heavily to his knees. Richard, his hand already around the hilt, pulled the sword from underneath the man's legs and in one mighty lunge, ran it through Neal's heart. Neal looked up in surprise, his eyes glassy. Richard saw then that the man was as good as dead before the blade had run him through. Neal's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the side as Richard yanked the sword free. Standing behind Neal was the woman Richard had helped. She had bandaged her leg. In both hands, she held the marble hand of the woman Richard had carved. She had crushed Neal's skull with her keepsake of the statue. CHAPTER 69 Richard heard footfalls splashing toward him down the wet hallway. The woman had gone to find help. Maybe she had found it. In the rooms and hallways in the distance, Richard could hear occasional screams as blasts of magic exploded through the night, as people were injured and killed. A woman appeared in the moonlight. "Richard? Richard?" Richard squinted in the darkness. "Who are you?" he managed to whisper. She rushed to his side and fell to her knees. She gasped at seeing Kahlan sprawled on the floor close to him. "What happened to the Mother Confessor?" Richard frowned. She knew Kahlan. "Who are you?" She looked back at him. "I'm a Sister. Sister Alessandra. I've been in the city for a while, looking for Nicci, and-never mind. A woman found me just down the hall-and said you were hurt. The man who carved the statue. I was trying desperately to get to you earlier, but I couldn't get near-there I go again. Tell me where you're hurt. I can try to heal you." "I was run through with a sword." She was still and silent for a moment. "Under my hands." She looked then, and spoke a prayer under her breath. "I think I can help. I feared-" "I need Nicci to do it." Sister Alessandra glanced about. "Nicci? Where is she, then? I've been searching for her. Ann sent me to find her." Richard's eyes fell on the still form of Kahlan. "Can you help her?" He could see the woman's eyes look away from his. "No; I can't. She's linked by magic to Nicci. I met her before, and she told me about it. I can do nothing through the shield of Nicci's link." "Is she . . . is she still.. ." The woman looked and then leaned back over him. "She's alive, Richard." He closed his eyes in relief, and in pain. "Lie still," she said. "But I need Nicci to-" "You're bleeding. This is bad, Richard. In a short time more, you will have lost too much blood. If I wait, no one will be able to heal you. You will have slipped too far beyond this world for any gift to help you. I can't wait. "Besides, I came to try to stop Nicci. I know her better than anyone. You can't put your life in her hands. You can't put your faith in her." "It's not faith. I know-" "She's a Sister of the Dark. I'm the one who led her down that dark road. I came to try to lead her back. Until and unless that time comes, you can't trust her. Now, you've not much time. Do you want to live, or not?" It had all gone for nothing. He felt a tear run from the corner of his eye and across his cheek. "I choose life," he said. "I know," she whispered with a smile. "I saw the statue. Now, move your hands for me. I need to have mine there." Richard let his hands slip to his sides as hers covered his wound. He felt helpless. He could focus on nothing but the searing pain. He felt magic tingle into him, following the damage down deep inside him. He clenched his teeth as he held in a cry. "Hold on," she whispered. "This is bad. It will hurt, but then in a while it will be all right." "I understand," he said. He gasped sharply. "Do it, then." The pain of her magic seared into him like white-hot coals thrown on bare flesh. He almost cried out, but then the pain abruptly ceased. Richard lay with his eyes closed, panting, waiting for it to start again. He felt her hands slip from him. Richard opened his eyes and saw that Sister Alessandra's eyes were opened wide. For an instant, he wondered why. And then he saw a foot of steel jutting from her chest. Her fingers went to her throat as blood gushed from her open mouth. A silent scream formed on her lips. A bony hand shoved her aside. She had been impaled on the sword Richard had used to fight Kahlan. His hand blindly went for the hilt he knew was there, but a foot kicked the Sword of Truth aside. Death's own skull grinned down at him. "You are a troublesome man, Richard Cypher," came the grating voice from the darkness above. "But at last, that trouble is ended." The tall angular figure in robes and a creased cap towered above him as he lay helpless on the cold wet floor. "This little rebellion of yours will be crushed, I can promise you that much, before you die. Their foolish little tantrum will be brought to an end. The people will soon come to their senses. Your kind appeals only to the extremist fringe. Most people see their duty to their fellow man. Your efforts have been for nothing." Brother Narev swept his arm around, as if in introduction. "An appropriate place for you to die, don't you think, Richard? These rooms are the future questioning chambers. You eluded the chambers once, but not this time. You will die in one as you should have died in one before. "I, on the other hand, will live here a long, long time, and see the Order bring morality to the world. Down here, in these chambers, radicals like you will confess their wickedness. I just wanted you to know, before you are embraced in the Keeper's cold arms for all eternity." Brother Narev's skeletal hands clawed as he called forth his magic. Richard saw white-hot light blossom around the high priest's hands and expand downward. Richard squeezed Kahlan's hand as he watched the white light of death come for him. The bloom of light turned a honey color. As if the air had thickened, the light slumped off to the sides. A howl of fury grew in Narev's throat. His shook his fists in rage. "You have the gift of a wizard! Who are you?" "I am your worst nightmare. I am a thinking man who can't be deluded by your lies, any more than I can be burned by your foul magic." Brother Narev tried to smash his foot down on Richard's face, but Richard was able to deflect the blow. He seized Narev's ankle. The man caught his balance and pulled madly to get free. The effort of holding on felt as if it ripped the wound through Richard's insides. He tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped from the wet leather. Once free, and out of Richard's reach, Narev bent and seized the hilt of the sword lodged in the Sister's back. He tugged but it didn't come completely out. He growled in fury, his boots slipping on the slimy floor, as he yanked on the sword. Richard knew that, once armed, Narev would be a swift executioner. With all his strength, Richard lunged at the man's legs. Brother Narev toppled back onto the wet floor. Richard, his middle wrenched in torture, threw himself atop Narev's legs to hold him down. Bony fingers clawed at Richard's face, trying to gouge his eyes. Richard turned his head away. With fierce effort, he clutched at the heavy robes, dragging himself up the man's body, ignoring the blows to his face as he did so. He seized Brother Narev by the throat. Brother Narev's bony fingers closed savagely around Richard's throat. Both men growled with the effort of trying to strangle each other to death. Richard twisted his head, trying to prevent Narev from getting a death grip, while at the same time trying to get his own thumbs over Narev's windpipe so he could choke off his air. Narev tried to roll, to throw Richard off. Richard spread his legs to make it harder for Narev to flip him over, and held tight as the man twisted and fought. He could feel his insides tearing. Richard had wielded a chisel and hammer for the Order for months. He was stronger, but he was also losing a lot of blood, and that strength was fading. He squeezed with all his might. The fingers at his throat loosened a little. The man's eyes bulged as Richard finally managed to start to choke the life out of him. Bony hands thumped at Richard's shoulders. The hands suddenly and fiercely seized Richard by his hair. Narev freed a leg and brought his knee up into Richard's wound. The world went white with pain. --]---- Nicci woke, dazed, to the sound of a low, wicked laugh. She knew the voice. She knew the smell. Kadar Kardeef. She heard a snapping, popping, hissing sound. A torch, she realized. He whipped it around in front of her face, so close she could feel the terrible heat against her flesh. Burning pitch dripped off, falling on her leg. Nicci screamed in pain as the pitch burned into the flesh of her thigh. "What goes around, comes around," Kadar said in her ear. "I don't care what you do to me," Nicci cried in rage. "I'm glad I burned you. I'm glad you've had to beg." "Oh you'll be begging, too, before long. You may not think so, but you'll be surprised what fire makes a person do. You will yet know what it was like. You will yet beg." With all her might, Nicci struggled against him. She could undo the spell, if only Kahlan were closer. So near, but so far. The fire before her eyes sent terror scorching through her. She had only to snip the cord linking her to Kahlan. She could break the link. She didn't have to undo it in order to have her power back. Nicci could escape, then. It would cost Kahlan her life, but Nicci would have her power, and she could escape the flames. But she would have to kill Kahlan to do it. "Shall I bum your face, first, Nicci? Your lovely face? Or maybe I should start with your legs. Which shall it be? You pick." Nicci panted as she struggled, trying to back away from the heat on her flesh. The hissing torch waved in front of her face. She knew she deserved such a fate; but she was driven to wild panic by the fear of it. She didn't want to snip the link, to kill Kahlan, but she didn't want to die this way. She didn't want her flesh to burn. "I say we start at the bottom, so we can hear your screams." Kadar brought the torch down and touched it to the hem of her dress. Nicci screamed as the black cloth caught flame. Such fear was a new sensation for her; for the first time since she was very small, she had something she cared about, and didn't want to lose: life. In a moment of stark terror, Nicci knew that no matter how much it was to hurt, no matter how frightening it was to be, she would not take Kahlan's life. Richard had given her the answer she had sought. She had taken too much already. In return for that lesson, she could not now violate it. Even though Kahlan, linked to Nicci, was to suffer the same fate, would die the same agonizing death, Nicci would not be the one who inflicted it. She would not take Kahlan's life from her. Kadar would be bringing their death, but Nicci would not. She would not kill Kahlan to save herself. Kadar Kardeef laughed as he watched her dress ignite. He held her in a firm grip Nicci could not escape. Just then, a dark shape flew at her from midair, crashing into them both. They tumbled back, the air all around filled with fire. As Nicci rolled, it put the flaming dress out in the water. The one who had crashed into them was just getting up, shaking her head as if to clear it. Nicci recognized her. It was the Mord-Sith, Cara. Kadar sat up, saw the woman, and lunged at her with the torch. Nicci threw herself at Kadar, grabbing the torch in both hands as she pushed it into the big man's face. The pitch splashed against his mask of rags. The cloth on his chest and around his head ignited with a loud whoosh. Kadar screamed as the flames burned into his already melted flesh. Nicci had heard that heat to previously burned flesh was worse than the first burning. By the sound of his screams, it appeared to be true. Nicci snatched Cara's hand as the woman was regaining her feet. "Hurry! I must get to Richard!" Outside the room where Kadar's shrieks fell to strangled whimpers as the flames suffocated him, Cara seized Nicci by the hair and held her Agiel inches from her face. "Give me one reason why I should trust you with Lord Rahl's life." Nicci gazed into Cara's eyes. "Because I saw his statue, and I understand, now, how wrong I've been. Have you ever been wrong, Cara? Really wrong? Can you ever understand what it's like to realize you've been unthinkingly serving evil, and hurting good people? Can you understand that Richard has shown me there is something to live for?" --]---- Nicci found Richard lying on his back, unconscious, or at least close to it. His head was pillowed on a marble hand. Kahlan lay beside him, clinging to him, weeping as his life bled away. Nicci was shocked to see the bodies strewn on the floor around them. Sister Alessandra, Brother Neal, Brother Narev. She knew by the way Richard looked that there was precious little time-if it was not already too late. Nicci knelt beside Kahlan. The woman was in abject misery, hanging by the last threads of desperate hope over the black brink of despair. She had come all this way, wanting to be with him, willing to suffer any end to do so. And here he lay, the lifeblood draining out of the one she loved most in life, knowing it was by her hand. Nicci took Kahlan by her shoulders and gently pulled her back. Kahlan looked up in confusion, hatred, and hope. "Kahlan, I need to remove the spell from you if I'm to help him. There's not much time." "I don't trust you. Why would you help?" "Because I owe it to him-to both of you." "You have brought nothing but suffering and-" Cara took Kahlan's arm. "Mother Confessor, you don't have to trust her. Trust me. I'm telling you that Nicci might be able to save him. I believe she will do her best. Please, let her do it." "Why should I trust her with his last few minutes of his life?" "Please, let Nicci have the chance Lord Rahl once gave me." Kahlan searched Cara's eyes for a moment, then turned to Nicci. "I know what it's like to be where he is now. I've been there. I chose life. Now, he must. What do I need to do?" "You and Richard have already done enough." Nicci took Kahlan's tearstained face in her hands. "Just be still, and let me do this." The woman was shivering in misery. Her long hair was matted and dripping wet. She was covered in Richard's blood. She could do no more for him, and she knew it. Nicci had to. As Kahlan gazed into her eyes, Nicci re-ignited the connecting cord of magic, hoping that she had enough time. Kahlan went rigid with the shock of pain it caused. Nicci knew exactly how it felt, because she felt the same pain. Milky light connected both women, heart to heart. Its wavering glow grew to blinding brightness, taking the pain to a new level in intensity. Kahlan's mouth opened in a silent cry. Her green eyes widened with the torment flooding through them both-as the root of magic embedded in every fiber of their two beings vibrated in response to the call of the light. Nicci placed her hands over her heart, in that incandescent shaft of light, and began to withdraw her power. CHAPTER 70 Richard pulled a shuddering breath as he opened his eyes. Somehow, he was lying in a position that didn't hurt. He feared to: move, lest the crushing pain return. How could that be? He'd been run through with a sword. The darkness around him was still and quiet. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of battle raging on. The ground beneath him shuddered with some great impact. There were people around him. Bodies lay on the wet floor. He realized he was on a board, keeping him up out of the water. He was covered in a warm cloak. He could see the dark hunched shapes of people huddled around in the little room. Under his fingers lay the hilt of the Sword of Truth. Because the storm of magic was calmed, he knew the sword was in its scabbard. He looked up, and through the openings between beams, through broken stone and splintered wood, and could see the rosy blush of dawn. "Kahlan?" he whispered. Three figures in the room sprang up, as if stone had suddenly come to life. The closest leaned in. "I'm here." She took up his hand. With his other hand, he reluctantly probed for his wound. He couldn't find it. He felt no pain, only a lingering ache. Another figure leaned in. "Lord Rahl? Are you awake?" "What happened?" "Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I stabbed you. It was all my fault. I should have taken an instant to be sure before I did it. I'm so sorry." Richard frowned. "Kahlan, I let you win." Silence greeted him. "Richard," Kahlan finally said, "you don't have to try to ease my guilt. I know it's my fault. I ran you through with the sword." "No," Richard insisted, "I let you win." Cara patted his shoulder. "Of course you did, Lord Rahl. Of course you did." "No, really." When the third figure turned to him, Richard's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "How do you feel?" Nicci asked in that silken voice he knew so well. "Did you remove the link to Kahlan?" Nicci raised her hand and made a scissors motion with two fingers. "Gone for good." Richard let out a breath. "Then I feel fine." He tried to sit up, but Nicci's hand restrained him. "Richard, I can never ask your forgiveness because I can never return what I stole from you, but I want you to know that I now understand how wrong I've been. My whole life, I have been blind. I'm not making an excuse. It's just that I want you to know that you have restored my vision. In giving me the answer I sought, you gave me my life. You gave me a reason to want to live." "And what did you see, Nicci?" "Life. You sculpted it so big that even someone who had so blindly served evil, as I had done, could see it. You must no longer prove yourself to me. Now, it is for me, and those here you have inspired, to prove ourselves to you." "You and they have already begun, or I would not be alive." "So . . . you are a Sister of the Light again?" Kahlan asked. Nicci shook her head. "No. I am Nicci. My ability as a sorceress is mine; it is who I am. My ability does not enslave me to others because they want it. It's my life. It does not belong to anyone---except maybe to you two. "You both have shown me the value of life, the rationale of freedom. If I am to serve beside anyone, now, it will be beside others who hold dear the same values." Richard placed his hand over Nicci's. "Thank you for saving my life. For a while there, I thought I'd made a mistake when I let Kahlan run me through." "Richard," Kahlan objected, "you don't have to try to assuage my guilt by saying that." Nicci was gazing into his eyes, even as she addressed Kahlan. "He's not. He's telling you the truth. I saw him do it. He was forcing me to make a choice to save him, so that I would have to break the spell holding you. I'm sorry you had to endure such a thing, Richard; I'd already made the choice-the moment I saw your statue." Richard tried to sit up again. Nicci restrained him again. "It is going to take time for you to recover fully. You are still suffering the lingering effects of the injury. Just because you are alive, that doesn't mean it won't take some time before you are completely recovered. You have gone through a formidable ordeal. You lost a lot of blood. You will need to rebuild your strength. You could yet die if you don't go easy." "All right," Richard conceded. He sat up carefully with Kahlan's help. "I'll keep your words in mind, but I still have to get up there." He turned to Kahlan. "By the way, what are you doing all the way down here? How did you know where I was? What's happening to the north, in the New World?" "We'll talk about all that later," she said. "I had to be with you. I decided that it was my life, and I wanted to be with you. You were right about the war in the New World. It took me a long time to come to understand that. I finally did. I came to be with you because that was all that was left for me." He looked to Cara. "And you?" "I always wanted to see the world." Richard smirked as he rose with the help of Kahlan and Cara, both. He felt lightheaded, but was joyful to trade that for the way he had been before. Kahlan handed him his sword. He slipped the baldric over his head, laying the leather across his shoulder and the scabbard at his hip. Knowing the weapon a little more intimately, now, he had a new respect for it. "I can't tell you how happy I am to return it to you," Kahlan said. She smiled sheepishly. "Like this, I mean." Farther down the hall Kamil was anxiously waiting in the darkness pierced by only a couple of candles. There were a number of people with him. Richard didn't know any of the people, except Kamil. He put a hand to the grinning young man's shoulder. "Kamil. Good to see you." "Richard, I saw it. I saw the statue." His smile faded. "I'm sorry it was destroyed." "It was only a piece of stone. It was the ideas it represented that were its true beauty." People in the dim hallway nodded. Richard saw, then, the woman with the wounded leg. He smiled at her. She returned a kiss, on the end of her fingers, to his forehead. "Bless you for your bravery in carving that statue," she said. "We are all joyful to know you survived the night, Richard." He thanked them all for their concern. The ground shook-again. "What is that?" Richard asked. "The walls," one of the men said. "The people are pulling down the walls with those carvings of death on them." --]---- Even as some people were pulling down the walls, others were still engaged in pitched battle. Richard could see in the faint light of dawn the fighting on the distant hillsides. It appeared that many people were not happy about the ideas Richard's statue had represented. There were those who feared freedom, and preferred the numb existence of not having to think for themselves. The palace grounds, though, were in secure hands. The fires of liberty were spreading outward, igniting a conflagration of change. In the plaza, the semicircle of walls and all the columns but one still stood. It felt somehow different here. This was the place where people had seen the statue and had chosen life. They weren't destroying this part of the palace. Richard dragged his boot through the marble dust. In the center of the plaza, the layer of white dust was all that remained. Every precious fragment had been saved as a reminder. From out on the grounds where several men were gathered, Victor spotted Richard, Kamil, and Nicci, whom he knew. He called out as he and Ishaq came running. "Richard!" Victor raced up the steps. "Richard!" Richard had Cara under one arm and Kamil under the other, supporting him. He didn't have the strength to shout, so he simply waited until the two men were close, both panting from their run. "Richard, we're winning!" Victor said as he pointed at the hills. "All those officials, gone, and we-" The blacksmith went silent as his eyes fell on Kahlan. Ishaq, too, stared at her, then swept his red hat off his head. Victor's mouth labored a moment before words finally worked their way out. His hand, usually so expressive, simply pointed at her as if she could not be real flesh. "You. . ." he said to Kahlan. "You are Richard's love." Kahlan smiled. "How do you know that?" "I saw the statue." In the dawn light, Richard could see her face go red. "It didn't look exactly like me," she protested, graciously. "Not the way it looked, but the . . . character. You have that quality." Kahlan smiled, pleased by his words. "Victor, Ishaq, this is Kahlan. My wife." Both men blinked dumbly and looked as one to Nicci. "As you know," Nicci said, "I am not a very good person. I am a sorceress. I used my power to force Richard to come here with me. Richard has shown me, along with many other people, the nobility of life." "Then you're the one who saved his life?" Victor asked. "Kamil told us you were hurt, Richard," Ishaq said, "and that a sorceress was healing you." "Nicci healed me," Richard confirmed. Victor gestured expansively-at last. "Well, I guess that has to count for something, saving Richard Cypher." "Richard Rahl," Richard said. Victor's rolling laugh rumbled up from deep inside. "Right. This day, we are all Richard Rahl." Nicci leaned in. "It really is Richard Rahl, Mr. Cascella." "Richard Rahl," Kahlan said, adding her nod. "Lord Rahl," Cara said in ill humor. "Show the proper respect to the Seeker of Truth, the master of the D'Haran Empire, war wizard, and the husband to the Mother Confessor herself." Cara lifted her hand in graceful, regal introduction. "Lord Rahl." Richard shrugged. He lifted the gleaming, silver-wound hilt of his sword, showing them the word TRUTH in gold, and then let it drop back into its scabbard. "What a beauty!" Kamil shouted. Victor and Isha