l the truth. The last time Kahlan had felt this helpless, felt this sense of Richard's life slipping away, she'd at least had one solid chance available to her to save him. She'd had no idea, at the time, that that one chance taken would be the catalyst that would initiate a cascade of events that would begin the disintegration of magic itself. She was the one who had made the decision to take that chance, and she was the one responsible for all that was now coming to pass. Had she known what she now knew, she would have made the same decision--to save Richard's life--but that made her no less liable for the consequences. She was the Mother Confessor, and, as such, was responsible for protecting the lives of those with magic, of creatures of magic. And, instead, she might very well be the cause of their end. Kahlan sprang to her feet, sword in hand, when she heard Cara's whistled birdcall to alert them to her return. It was a birdcall Richard had taught her. Kahlan slid the shutter on the lantern open all the way to provide more light. She saw Tom, hand resting on the silver-handled knife at his belt, rise from the nearby rock where he'd been sitting as he watched over both the camp and the man Kahlan had touched with her power. The man still lay on the ground at Tom's feet where Kahlan had ordered him to stay. "What is it?" Jennsen whispered as she appeared at Kahlan's side, hastily rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I'm not sure, yet. Cara signaled, so she must have someone with her." Cara walked in out of the darkness, and, as Kahlan had suspected, she was pushing a man ahead of her. Kahlan frowned, trying to recall where she'd seen him before. She blinked, then, realizing it was the young man they had come across a week or so back--Owen. "I tried to get to you sooner!" Owen cried out when he saw Kahlan. "I swear, I tried." Holding him by the shoulder of his light coat, Cara marched the man closer, then yanked him to a halt in front of Kahlan. "What are you talking about?" Kahlan asked. When Owen caught sight of Jennsen standing behind Kahlan's shoulder, he paused with his mouth hanging open for an instant before he answered. "I meant to get to you earlier, I swear," he said to Kahlan, sounding on the verge of tears. "I went to your camp." He clutched his light coat closed at his chest as he began to tremble. "I, I saw ... I saw all the ... remains. Dear Creator, how could you be so brutal?" Kahlan thought Owen looked like he might throw up. He covered his mouth and closed his eyes as he shook. "If you mean all those men," Kahlan said, "they tried to capture us, to kill us. We didn't collect them from their rocking chairs beside their hearths and bring them out into this wasteland where we slaughtered them. They attacked us; we defended ourselves." "But, dear Creator, how could you ..." Owen stood before her, unable to control his shivering. He closed his eyes. "Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real." He repeated it over and over, as if it were an incantation meant to protect him from evil. Cara forcibly dragged Owen back a bit and sat him down on a shelf of rock. Eyes closed meditatively, he mumbled "Nothing is real" to himself continually while Cara took up a position to the left side of Kahlan. "Tell us what you're doing here," Cara commanded in a low growl. Although she didn't say it, the "or else" was clear enough. "And be quick about it," Kahlan said. "We have enough trouble and we don't need you added on top of it." Owen opened his eyes. "I went to your camp to tell you about it, but... all those bodies ..." "We know about what happened back there. Now, tell us why you're here." Kahlan was at the end of her patience. "I'm not going to ask you again." "Lord Rahl," Owen wailed, tears bursting forth at last. "Lord Rahl what," Kahlan demanded through gritted teeth. "Lord Rahl has been poisoned," he blurted out as he wept. Gooseflesh prickled up Kahlan's legs. "How can you possibly know such a thing is true?" Owen stood, clutching twisted wads of his coat at his chest. "I know," he cried, "because I'm the one who poisoned him." Could it be? Could it be that it wasn't really the runaway power of the gift killing Richard, but poison? Could it be that they had it all wrong? Could it be that it was all caused by this man poisoning Richard? Kahlan felt her sword's hilt slip from her fingers as she started for the man. He stood watching her come, like a fawn watching a mountain lion about to leap. Kahlan knew there was something strange about this man. Richard, too, had thought there was something unsettling about him, something not quite right. Somehow, this quaking stranger had poisoned Richard. Richard barely hung to life. He was suffering and in pain. This man had been the cause of it all. Kahlan would know why, and she would know the truth of it. Kahlan closed the distance quickly. She would not risk his escape. She would not risk his lies. She would have his confession. Her hand started coming up toward him. Her power was recovered-- she could feel it there, in the core of her being, at the ready. This man had tried to kill Richard. She intended to find out if there was a way to save him. This man could tell her. She committed herself to taking him. It was not necessary for Kahlan to invoke her birthright, but merely to withdraw her restraint of it. Her feelings about what this man had done faded away; they no longer mattered in this. Only the truth would serve her now. She was a being of raw commitment. He had no chance. He was hers. She saw him standing frozen, watching her come, saw his blue eyes widen, saw the tears running down his cheeks. Kahlan felt the cold coil of power straining for release, demanding to be freed. As her hand rose toward this man who had harmed Richard, she wanted nothing so much as what she would have. He was hers. Cara abruptly jumped in between them. Kahlan's sight of the man was blocked by the Mord-Sith. Kahlan tried to brush Cara aside, but she was ready and firmly held her ground. Cara seized Kahlan by the shoulders and forced her back three paces. "No. Mother Confessor, no." Kahlan was still focused on Owen, even if she couldn't see him. "Get out of my way." "No. Stop." "Move!" Kahlan tried to shove Cara aside, but the woman had her feet spread and couldn't be budged. "Cara!" "No. Listen to me." "Cara, get out of--" She shook Kahlan so hard that Kahlan thought her neck would snap. "Listen to me!" Kahlan panted in rage. "What." "Wait until you hear what he says. He came here for a reason. When he finishes, you can use your power if you want, or you can let me make him scream until the moon covers its ears, but first we need to hear what he says." "I'll find out soon enough what he says, and I'll know the truth. When I touch him he will confess every detail." "And if Lord Rahl dies as a result? Lord Rahl's life hanging in the balance. We must think of that first." "I am. Why do you think I'm going to do this?" Cara pulled Kahlan close to hear her whisper. "And what if using your power on this man kills him for some reason we don't yet even know about. Remember when we didn't know everything in the past? Remember Marlin Pickard announcing he had come to assassinate Richard? It was too easy then, and it's too easy this time. "What if your touching this man is someone's design--a trick, with this man sent as bait of some sort? What if they want you to do it for some reason? What if you do what they intend you to do--then what? It won't be a simple mistake that we can work to fix. If Lord Rahl dies we can't bring him back." Cara's fierce blue eyes were wet. Her powerful fingers dug into Kah-lan's shoulders. "What can it hurt to hear him first, before you touch him? You can then touch him, if you still think it's necessary--but hear him first. Mother Confessor, as a sister of the Agiel, I'm asking you, please, for the sake of Lord Rahl's life, wait." More than anything, it was Cara's reluctance to use force that gave Kahlan pause. If there was anyone who would be more than willing to use physical force to protect Richard, it was Cara. In the dim light of the lantern, Kahlan studied the emotion in Cara's expression. Despite everything Cara said, Kahlan didn't know if she could afford to take the chance, to hesitate. "What if it's a stab in the dark?" Jennsen asked from behind. Kahlan glanced back over her shoulder at Richard's sister, at the worry on her face. Kahlan had made a mistake before in not acting quickly enough, and it resulted in Richard being captured and taken from her. Then it was his freedom; this time it was his life at stake. She knew that while hesitation had been a mistake in that instance, that didn't mean that immediate action was always right. She looked back into Cara's eyes. "All right. We'll hear what he has to say." With a thumb, she brushed a tear from Cara's cheek, a tear of terror for Richard, a tear of terror at the thought of losing him. "Thanks," Kahlan whispered. Cara nodded and released her. She turned and folded her arms, fixing Owen in her glare. "You had better not make me sorry for stopping her." Owen peered about at all the faces watching him--Friedrich, Tom, Jennsen, Cara, Kahlan, and even the man Kahlan had touched, lying on the ground not far away. "In the first place, how could you possibly have poisoned Richard?" Kahlan asked. Owen licked his lips, fearful of telling her, even though that was apparently why he had returned. His gaze finally broke toward the ground. "When I saw the dust rising from the wagon, and I knew that I was near, I dumped out what water I had left, so it would appear I had none. Then, when Lord Rahl found me, I asked for a drink. When he gave me his waterskin so I could have a drink, I put poison in it, just before I handed it back. I was relieved that you had showed up, too. It was my intention that I poison both Lord Rahl and you, Mother Confessor, but you had your own water and didn't take a drink when he offered it to you. But I guess it doesn't matter. This will work just as well." Kahlan couldn't make sense of such a confession. "So you intended to kill us both, but you were only able to poison Richard." "Kill... ?" Owen looked up in shock at the very idea. He shook his head emphatically. "No, no, nothing like that. Mother Confessor, I tried to get to you earlier, but those men went to your camp before I got there. I needed to get the antidote to Lord Rahl." "I see. You wanted to save him--after you'd poisoned him--but when you got to our camp, we'd gone." His eyes filled with tears again. "It was so awful. All the bodies-- the blood. I've never seen such brutal murder." He covered his mouth. "It would have been murder--our murder," Kahlan said, "had we not defended ourselves." Owen seemed not to hear her. "And you were gone--you'd left. I didn't know where you'd gone. It was hard to follow your wagon's trail in the dark, but I had to. I had to run, to catch up with you. I was afraid the races would get me, but I knew I had to reach you tonight. I couldn't wait. I was afraid, but I had to come." The whole story was nonsense to Kahlan. "So you're like one of those people who starts a fire, calls out an alarm, and then helps put it out--all so you can be a hero." Startled, Owen shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. Nothing like that at all--I swear. I hated doing it. I did. I hated it." "Then why did you poison him!" Owen twisted his light coat in his fists as tears trickled down his cheeks. "Mother Confessor, we have to give him the antidote, now, or he will die. It's already so very late." He clasped his hands prayerfully and gazed skyward. "Dear Creator, let it not be too late, please." He reached out for Kahlan, as if to urgently beg her as well, to assure her of his sincerity, but at the look on her face, drew back. "There's no more time, Mother Confessor. I tried to get to you earlier--I swear. If you don't let him have the remedy now, it will be the end of him. It will all be for naught--everything, all if it, all for nothing!" Kahlan didn't know if she dared trust in such an offer. It made no sense to poison a man and then save him. "What's the antidote?" she asked. "Here." Owen hurriedly pulled a small vial from a pocket inside his coat. "Here it is. Please, Mother Confessor." He held the square-sided vial out toward her. "He must have this now. Please, hurry, or he will die." "Or this will finish him," Kahlan said. "If I wanted to finish him, I could have done so when I slipped the poison into his waterskin. I could have used more of it, or I could simply not have come with the antidote. I'm not a killer, I swear-- that's why I had to come in the first place." Owen wasn't making a whole lot of sense. Kahlan wasn't confident in such an offer. It was Richard's life that would be forfeit if she chose wrong. "I say we give Richard Owen's antidote," Jennsen whispered. "A stab in the dark?" Kahlan asked. "You said that there were times when there is no choice but to act immediately, but even then it must be with your best judgment, using all your experience and everything you do know. Earlier, in the wagon, I heard Cara tell you that she didn't know if Richard would live the night. Owen says he has an antidote. I think this is one of those times we must act." "If it means anything," Tom offered in a confidential tone, "I'd have to agree. I don't see as there really is any choice. But if you have an alternative that might save Lord Rahl, I think now would be the time to add it to the stew." Kahlan didn't have any alternative, except getting to Nicci, and that was looking more and more like no more than empty hope. "Mother Confessor," Friedrich offered in a hushed tone, "I agree as well. I think you should know that if you let him have the remedy, we all were in agreement that it was the best choice to be made." If the antidote killed Richard, they wouldn't blame her. That was what he was saying. Jennsen stepped toward Owen, pulling Betty along with her. "If you're lying about this being an antidote, you will have to answer to me, and to Cara, and then to the Mother Confessor--if there's even anything left of you by then. You do understand that, don't you?" Owen shrank from her, his head turned away, as he nodded vigorously, apparently fearing to look up at her, or at Betty. Kahlan thought that he looked more afraid of Jennsen than of any of the rest of them. Cara leaned toward Kahlan and whispered. "He has to have an antidote. What purpose would it be to place himself in danger of all we'll do to him if he's lying? Why even come back here, if he only wanted to poison Lord Rahl? He had already poisoned him and gotten away. Mother Confessor, I say that we give Lord Rahl the antidote, and we do it quickly." "Then why poison him in the first place?" Kahlan whispered back. "If you intend to give a man the antidote, then why poison him?" Cara let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know. But right now, if Lord Rahl dies ..." Cara's words trailed off at the unthinkable. Kahlan looked over at Richard lying unconscious. She went weak at the thought of him never waking. How could she live in a world without Richard? "How much do we give him?" she asked Owen. Owen rushed forward, past Jennsen. "All of it. Make him drink it all down." He pressed the small, square-sided bottle into Kahlan's hands. "Hurry. Please hurry." "You've hurt him," Kahlan said with unrestrained menace. "Your poison hurt him. He's been coughing up blood, and he passed out from the pain. If you think I'll ever forget that and be pleased with you for now returning to save his life, you're wrong." Owen nervously licked his lips. "But I tried to get to you. I was bringing you the antidote so that wouldn't happen. I never intended him such pain. I tried to get to you--but you slaughtered all those men." "So, it's our fault, then?" Owen smiled just a bit as he nodded, a small smile of satisfaction that she'd finally seen the light and at last understood that it wasn't his fault at all, but their fault. While Jennsen watched Owen, keeping him back out of the way, Tom watched the man Kahlan had touched, and Friedrich watched Betty, Kahlan and Cara knelt and lifted Richard so they could try to get him to drink the antidote. Cara propped his back against her thigh while Kahlan cradled his head in her arm. She pulled the stopper with her teeth and spit out the cork. Careful not to spill and waste any of the antidote, she put the bottle to his lips and tipped it up. She watched it wet his lips. She tilted his head back more, so that his mouth would fall open a bit, and tipped the bottle some more. Carefully, she let some of the clear liquid dribble into his mouth. Kahlan didn't know if what was in the bottle really was an antidote. It was colorless and looked to her just like water. As Richard smacked his lips a little, swallowing what she had poured in his mouth, Kahlan smelled the bottle. The liquid had the slight aroma of cinnamon. She dribbled more of it into Richard's mouth. He coughed, but then swallowed. Cara used a finger to swipe up a drop that ran down his chin and return it to his mouth. Kahlan, her heart pounding with worry, poured the rest of the liquid past his lips. Holding the empty bottle between her thumb and first finger, she used the palm of her hand to push Richard's jaw up, forcing his head back, forcing him to swallow. She sighed with relief when he swallowed several times, taking all the cure. At least she'd been able to get him to swallow it. Carefully, Kahlan and Cara laid Richard back down. As Cara stood, Owen rushed forward. "Did you give him all of it? Did he drink it all?" Cara's Agiel spun into her fist. As Owen, in his exuberance to get to Richard, charged forward, Cara rammed her Agiel into Owen's shoulder. Owen tottered back a step. "I'm sorry." He rubbed his shoulder where Cara had jabbed her Agiel into him. "I only wanted to see how he is. I don't mean any harm. I want him to be well, I swear." Kahlan stared in astonishment. Cara glanced down at her Agiel, then at Owen. Her Agiel hadn't worked on him. He wasn't affected by magic. Even Jennsen was staring at Owen. He was just like her--a pillar of Creation, born pristinely ungifted and unaffected by magic. While Jennsen understood what that meant, it didn't seem that Owen did. He had no idea that Cara had done anything more than poke him good and hard to get him to stand back. Her Agiel should have dropped him to his knees. "Richard drank all the antidote. Now it must do its work. In the meantime, I think we had better get some sleep." Kahlan gestured with a tilt of her head. "See to the watches, would you Cara? I'll stay with Richard." Cara nodded. She gave Tom a look, which he understood. "Owen," Tom said, "why don't you come over by me and spend the night over here, with this fellow." Owen blanched at the look on the face of the big D'Haran, and understood that he wasn't being offered a choice. "Yes, all right." He turned back to Kahlan. "I'll pray that he got the antidote in time. I'll pray for him." "Pray for yourself," she said. When everyone had gone, Kahlan lay down beside Richard. Now that she was alone with him, tears of worry finally began to seep out. Richard was shivering with cold, even though it was a warm night. She drew the blanket back up around him and then put her hand on his shoulder as she cuddled close, not knowing if when the new day came he would still be with her. CHAPTER 22 Richard opened his eyes, only to squint at the light, even though it was far from sunny. By the layered streaks of violet tinting the iron gray sky, it appeared to be just dawn. A heavy overcast hung low overhead. Or it could be sunset--he wasn't really sure. He felt strangely disoriented. The dull throbbing in his head ached back down through his neck. His chest burned with every breath he drew. His throat was raw. It hurt to swallow. The heavy pain, though, the pain that had squeezed so hard it had taken his breath and had made the world go black, seemed to have ebbed. The bone-chilling grip of cold had lifted, too. Richard felt as if he had lost contact with the world for a time-- how long a time he didn't know. It seemed like it had been an eternity, as if the world of life was a distant memory from his past. He also felt as if he had come close to never waking again. It brought a flash of sweat to his brow to feel that he had been close to losing his life, to realize that he might never have awakened. The surroundings were different from those he remembered. Close by, a wall of straw-colored rock with sharp fractured edges rose nearly straight up. To the side he saw a stand of twisted bristlecone pine. Pale, bare wood stood out in naked relief where sections of dark bark had peeled open. The imposing mountains loomed closer than he remembered, and there were more trees on the slopes of the nearby hills. Jennsen lay curled up in a blanket beside Betty, her back against the rear wheel of the wagon. Tom was asleep not too far away right beside his draft horses. Friedrich sat on a rock standing watch. Richard couldn't make sense of the two men who lay at Friedrich's feet. Richard thought one of them must be the man Kahlan had touched with her power. The other one, though, he wasn't sure of, although Richard thought there was something familiar about him. Kahlan was sound asleep up against him. His sword lay on his other side, close by his hand. On the other side of Kahlan lay her sword, sheathed, but at the ready. All the Seekers who had used the Sword of Truth before Richard, the good and the evil, had left within the sword's magic the essence of their skill. By mastering the sword as the true Seeker for whom the makers of the sword intended its power, Richard had learned to tap that ability and make it his own, to draw on all the skill and knowledge of those before him. He had become a master of the blade, in more ways than one, and part of that had come from the blade itself. Kahlan had been taught to use a sword by her father, King Wyborn Amnell, once king of Galea before Kahlan's mother had taken him for her mate. Richard had completed Kahlan's training, teaching her how to use a sword in ways she had never been shown, ways that used her size and speed to her best advantage, rather than fighting like the enemy and depending on strength. Despite his pounding head, and the pain when he drew a breath, the warm feel of Kahlan against his side brought him a smile. She looked so beautiful, even with her hair all in a tangle. She made his heart ache with longing. He had always loved her long beautiful hair. He loved to watch her sleep almost as much as he loved to gaze into her arresting green eyes. He loved to make her hair a tangled mess. He remembered, back when he had first met her, watching her sleep on the floor of Adie's home, watching her slow heartbeat in the vein in her neck. He remembered, as he'd watched, being struck by the life in her. She was just so alive, so passionately filled with life. He couldn't stop smiling as he looked at her. Gently, he bent and kissed the top of her head. She stirred, nuzzling up tighter to him. Suddenly, she jerked upright, sitting on a hip as she stared wide-eyed at him. "Richard!" She threw herself down beside him, her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. She clutched him for dear life. A single gasp of a sob that terrified him with its forlorn misery escaped her throat. "I'm all right," he soothed as he smoothed her hair. She pushed herself up again, slower, gazing at him as if she hadn't seen him in an eternity. Her special smile, the one she gave only him, spread incandescent across her face. "Richard..." She seemed only able to stare at him and smile. Richard, still lying back trying to let his head clear, lifted an arm just enough to point. "Who is that?" Kahlan looked back over her shoulder. She turned back and took up Richard's hand. "Remember that fellow a week or so back? Owen? That's him." "I thought I recognized him." "Lord Rahl!" Cara dropped to the ground on the side of him opposite Kahlan. "Lord Rahl..." She, too, seemed to have trouble finding words. Instead, she took up his free hand. That, in itself, said a world to him. Richard took the hand back, kissed his first two fingers and touched the fingers to her cheek. "Thanks for watching out for everyone." Jennsen hobbled over, the blanket still tangled around her legs. "Richard! The antidote worked! It worked, dear spirits, it worked!" Richard rose up onto an elbow. "Antidote?" He frowned at the three women around him. "Antidote to what?" "You were poisoned," Kahlan told him. She aimed a thumb back over her shoulder. "Owen. When he came to us the first time, you gave him a drink. In thanks, he put poison in your waterskin. He intended to poison me with it, too, but only you drank it." Richard's glare settled on the men at Friedrich's feet, watching them.He nodded his confirmation that it was true, as if he should be commended for it. "One of those little mistakes," Jennsen said. Richard puzzled at her. "What?" "You said that even you made mistakes, and even a little one could cause big trouble. Don't you remember? Cara said you were always making mistakes, especially simple ones, and that's why you need her around." Jennsen flashed him a teasing smile. "I guess she was right." Richard didn't correct the story, but said, as he stood, "It just goes to show how you can be taken by surprise by something as simple as that fellow over there." Kahlan was watching Owen. "I have a suspicion he isn't so simple." Cara put her arm out for Richard to grab hold of in order to steady himself. "Cara," he said as he had to sit down on a nearby crate from the wagon, "bring him over here, would you?" "Gladly," she said as she started across their camp. "Don't forget to tell him about Owen," Cara said to Kahlan. "Tell me what?" Kahlan leaned close as she watched Cara haul Owen to his feet. "Owen is pristinely ungifted--like Jennsen." Richard raked his hair back, trying to make sense of it. "Are you saying that he's also my half brother?" Kahlan shrugged. "We don't know that; we know only that he's pristinely ungifted." A wrinkle of puzzlement tightened on her brow. "By the way, back at the camp where those men attacked us, you were about to tell me something important you figured out when we were questioning the man that I touched, but you never got the chance." "Yes"--Richard squinted, trying to recall what the man had told them--"it was about the one he said gave the orders sending him to capture us: Nicholas ... Nicholas something." "The Slide," Kahlan reminded him. "Nicholas the Slide." "Right. Nicholas told him where to find us--at the eastern edge of the wasteland, heading north. How could he know?" Kahlan mulled over the question. "Come to think of it, how could he know? We've seen no one, at least no one we were aware of, who could have reported where we were. Even if someone had seen us, by the time they reported our position and Nicholas sent the men, we would have been far from here. Unless Nicholas is close." "The races," Richard said. "It has to be that he's the one watching us through the races. We've seen no one else. That's the only way anyone could have known where we were. This Nicholas the Slide had to have seen us, to have seen where we were, through those birds that have been shadowing us. That's how he was able to give our location along with the orders." Richard rose as the man approached. "Lord Rahl," Owen said, arms spread in a gesture of relief as he scurried forward, Cara holding a fistful of his coat at his shoulder to keep him reined in. "I'm so relieved you're better. I never meant for the poison to hurt you as it did--and it never would have, had you had the antidote sooner. I tried to get to you sooner--I meant to--I swear I did, but all those men you slaughtered... it wasn't my fault." He added a small smile to the pleading expression he gave Kahlan. "The Mother Confessor knows, she understands." Kahlan folded her arms as she looked up at Richard from under her frown. "It's our fault, you see, that Owen didn't make it to us sooner with the antidote to the poison. Owen got to our last camp, intending to hand over the antidote to cure you, only to find that we had murdered all those men and then up and left. So, it's not his fault--his intentions were good and he tried; we spoiled his effort. Very inconsiderate of us." Richard stared, not sure if Kahlan was giving him a sarcastic summation of what Owen had told her, or an accurate portrayal of Owen's excuse, or if his head still wasn't clear. Richard's mood turned as dark as the thick overcast. "You poisoned me," he said to Owen, wanting to be sure he had the man's story straight, "and then you brought an antidote to where we were camped, but when you got to that camp, you came across the men who had attacked us and you found we had gone." "Yes." His cheer that Richard had it right abruptly faded. "Such savagery from the unenlightened is to be expected, of course." Owen's blue eyes filled with tears. "But still, it was so ..." He hugged himself and closed his eyes as he rocked his weight from side to side, from one foot to the other. "Nothing is real. Nothing is real. Nothing is real." Richard seized the man's shirt at his throat and yanked him closer. "What do you mean, nothing is real?" Owen paled before Richard's glare. "Nothing is real. We can't know if what we see, if anything, is real or not. How could we?" "If you see it, then how can you possibly think it isn't real?" "Because our senses all the time distort the truth of reality and deceive us. Our senses only delude us into the illusion of certainty. We can't see at night--our sight tells us that the night is empty--but an owl can snatch up a mouse that with our eyes we couldn't sense was there. Our reality says the mouse didn't exist--yet we know it must, in spite of what our vision tells us--that another reality exists outside our experience. Our sight, rather than revealing truth, hides the truth from us--worse, it gives us a false idea of reality. "Our senses deceived us. Dogs can smell a world of things we can't, because our senses are so limited. How can a dog track something we can't smell, if our senses tell us what is real and what isn't. Our understanding of reality, rather than being enhanced by, is instead limited by, our flawed senses. "Our bias causes us to mistakenly think we know what is unknowable--don't you see? We aren't equipped with adequate senses to know the true nature of reality, what is real and what isn't. We only know a tiny sampling of the world around us. There is a whole world hidden from us, a whole world of mysteries we don't see--but it's there just the same, whether we see it or not, whether we have the wisdom to admit our inadequacies to the task of knowing reality, or not. What we think we know is actually unknowable. Nothing is real." Richard leaned down. "You saw those bodies because they were real." "What we see is only an apparent reality, mere appearances, a self-imposed illusion, all based on our flawed perception. Nothing is real." "You didn't like what you saw, so you choose, instead, to say it isn't real?" "I can't say what's real. Neither can you. To say otherwise is unenlightened arrogance. A truly enlightened man admits his woeful ineffectiveness when confronting his existence." Richard pulled Owen closer. "Such whimsy can only bring you to a life of misery and quaking fear, a life wasted and never really lived. You had better start using your mind for its true purpose of knowing the world around you, instead of abandoning it to faith in irrational notions. With me, you will confine yourself to the facts of the world we live in, not fanciful daydreams as concocted by others." Jennsen tugged on Richard's sleeve, pulling him back to hear her as she whispered. "Richard, what if Owen is right--not necessarily about the bodies, but about the general idea?" "You mean you think his conclusions are all wrong, and yet, somehow, the convoluted idea behind them must be right." "Well, no--but what if what he says really is true? After all, look at you and me. Remember the conversation we had a while back, the one where you were explaining how I was born without eyes to see"-- she glanced briefly at Owen and apparently abbreviated what she had intended to say--"certain things. Remember that you said that, for me, such things don't exist? That reality is different for me? That my reality is different than yours?" "You're getting what I said wrong, Jennsen. When most people get into a patch of poison ivy, they blister and itch. Some rare people don't. That doesn't mean the poison ivy doesn't exist, or, more to the point, that its existence depends on whether or not we think it's there." Jennsen pulled him even closer. "Are you so sure? Richard, you don't know what it's like to be different from everyone else, to not see and feel what they do. You say there's magic, but I can't see it, or feel it. It doesn't touch me. Am I to believe you on faith, when my senses say it doesn't exist? Maybe because of that I can understand a little better what Owen means. Maybe he doesn't have it all wrong. It makes a person wonder what's real and what's not, and if, like he says, it's only your own point of view." "The information our senses give us must be taken in context. If I close my eyes the sun doesn't stop shining. When I go to sleep I'm consciously unaware of anything; that doesn't mean that the world ceases to exist. You have to use the information from your senses in context along with what you've learned to be true about the nature of things. Things don't change because of the way we think about them. What is, is." "But, like he says, if we don't experience something with our own senses, then how can we know it's real?" Richard folded his arms. "I can't get pregnant. So would you argue that for me women don't exist." Jennsen backed away, looking a little sheepish. "I guess not." "Now," Richard said, turning back to Owen, "you poisoned me-- you admit that much." He tapped his fist against his own chest. "It hurts in here; that's real. You caused it. "I want to know why, and I want to know why you brought the antidote. I'm not interested in what you think of the camp where the men who attacked us lay dead. Confine yourself to the matter at hand. You brought the antidote for the poison you gave me. That can't be the end of it. What's the rest?" "Well," Owen stammered, "I didn't want you to die, that's why I saved you." "Stop telling me your feelings about what you did and tell me instead what you did and why. Why poison me, and why then save me? I want the answer to that, and I want the truth." Owen glanced around at the grim faces watching him. He took a breath as if to gather his composure. "I needed your help. I had to convince you to help me. I asked, before, for your help and you refused, even though my people have great need. I begged. I told you how important it was for them to have your help, but you still said no." "I have my own problems I must deal with," Richard said. "I'm sorry the Order invaded your homeland--I know how terrible that is-- but I told you, I'm trying to bring them down and our doing so will only help you and your people in your effort to rid yourselves of them. You aren't the only one who has had their home invaded by those brutes. We have men of the Order murdering our loved ones as well." "You must help us, first," Owen insisted. "You and those like you, the unenlightened ones, must free my people. We can't do it ourselves--we are not savages. I heard what you all had to say about eating meat. Such talk made me ill. Our people are not like that--we can't be, because we are enlightened. I saw how you murdered all those men back there. I need you to do that to the Order." "I thought that wasn't real?" Owen ignored the question. "You must give my people freedom." "I already told you, I can't!" "Now, you must." He looked at Cara, Jennsen, Tom, and Friedrich. His gaze settled on Kahlan. "You must see to it that Lord Rahl does this--or he will die. I have poisoned him." Kahlan seized Owen's shirt. "You brought him the antidote to the poison." Owen nodded. "That first night, when I told you all of my great need, I had just given him the poison." His gaze returned to Richard. "You had just drunk it, within hours. Had you agreed to give my people the freedom they need, I would have given you the antidote then, and you would be free of the poison. It would have cured you. "But you refused to come with me, to help those who cannot help themselves, as is your duty to those in need. You sent me away. So, I did not offer you the antidote. In the time since, the poison has worked its way through your body. Had you not been selfish, you would have been cured back then. "Instead, the poison is now established in you, doing its work. Since it was so long since you drank the poison, the antidote I had with me was no longer enough to cure you, only to make you better for a while." "And what will cure me?" Richard asked. "You will have to have more of the antidote to rid you of the rest of the poison." "And I don't suppose you have any more." Owen shook his head. "You must give my people freedom. Only then, will you be able to get more of the antidote." Richard wanted to shake the answers out of the man. Instead, he took a breath, trying to stay calm so that he could understand the truth of what Owen had done and then think of the solution. "Why only then?" he asked. "Because," Owen said, "the antidote is in the place taken by the Imperial Order. You must rid us of the invaders if you are to be able to get to the antidote. If you want to live, you must give us our freedom. If you don't, you will die." CHAPTER 23 Kahlan reached in to seize Owen by the throat. She wanted to strangle him, to choke him, to make him feel the desperate, panicked need of breath that Richard had endured, to make him suffer, to show him what it was like. Cara went for Owen as well, apparently having the same thought as Kahlan. Richard thrust his arm out, holding them both back. Holding Owen's shirt in his other fist, Richard shook the man. "And how long do I have until I get sick again? How long do I have to live before your poison kills me?" Owen's confused gaze flitted from one angry face to another. "But if you do as I ask, as is your duty, you