orked," Cara added in a whisper.
     "We'll find another way," Kahlan assured her.
     Richard slowly drew the door open a  crack and peeked out.  He shut the
door and turned back.
     "It's clear. Doors to the  left and around  the  balcony  are the rooms
with the women in  them. Stairs to the right are the closest that lead down.
Some of  the rooms at the bottom are for officers;  others  are barracks for
soldiers."
     Cara nodded. "I'm ready."
     Kahlan looked from one to the other. "Ready for what?"
     Richard took her by the elbow. "I need you to help me see."
     "Help you see? Is it progressing that fast?"
     "Just listen. We're going to  move  along the  balcony to  the left and
open  the doors. Do  your best to keep the women  calm. We're going to break
them out of here."
     Kahlan was  a bit confused by everything--it was  completely  different
from the plans she had been hearing along with Nicholas. She knew she  would
just have to follow Richard and Cara's lead.
     Outside, on the simple  wooden balcony, there were no lamps or torches.
The moon was down  behind the black sprawl of  the mountains. Kahlan's sight
when Nicholas had controlled her had been like looking through a greasy pane
of  wavy glass. The  sparkling vault of stars overhead  had  never looked so
beautiful. In  that  starlight, Kahlan could see simple buildings  lined  up
around the outer wall of the fortification.
     Richard  and Cara moved along the balcony, opening  doors. At each one,
Cara quickly ducked inside. Some of the women came out in their nightshirts;
some Kahlan could hear inside rushing to get dressed.  In some of the rooms,
babies cried.
     While  Cara  was  in  one of the rooms, Richard opened another door. He
leaned  close to Kahlan and whispered, "Go in and tell the women inside that
we've come  to help them  escape. Tell them  that their men have come to get
them out. But they must be as quiet as possible, or we'll be caught."
     Kahlan  rushed in, as  best  she could  on  unsteady legs, and woke the
young woman in  the bed  to the right. She sat  up,  terrified,  but silent.
Kahlan reached around and shook the woman in the other bed.
     "We've come to  help you escape. You mustn't  make any  noise. Your men
are going to help. You have a chance to be free."
     "Free?" the first woman asked.
     "Yes. It's up to you, but I strongly advise you to take the chance, and
to hurry."
     The women flew out of their beds and grabbed for clothes.
     Richard,  Kahlan, and Cara moved farther  down  the balcony, asking the
women who had already come  out to help rouse the others. In a  matter of  a
few minutes,  hundreds of  women  were  huddled together out on the balcony.
There was no problem keeping them quiet; they were all too familiar with the
consequences of causing trouble.  They  didn't want  to do  anything to  get
themselves caught trying  to escape. Before  long, they had  made it all the
way around the fortification balcony.
     Many of the  women had very young  babies--ones  too young to be  taken
away. The  babies were  mostly sound asleep in their mothers' arms, but some
of them started to  cry.  The mothers  desperately tried to rock and  cuddle
them into  silence. Kahlan hoped  that it was  a common enough sound that it
wouldn't draw the attention of the soldiers.
     "Wait here," Richard  whispered to Kahlan. "Keep everyone up here until
we get the gate open."
     With Cara right  behind him, Richard  slipped  carefully down the steps
and started  across the  open yard. When  one  of the  babies suddenly began
bawling, soldiers  came out  of a building  to  see what  was going on. They
spotted Richard and Kahlan. The soldiers yelled, sounding an alarm.
     Kahlan heard  the distinctive ring of steel as Richard drew  his sword.
Men  rushed out of  some of  the doors, heading Richard and Cara off.  Being
used to dealing with these people, the men rushing toward Richard apparently
weren't greatly concerned about violence. They were wrong, and  fell as soon
as they got close enough for Richard to strike. Some Richard took down as he
ran; others Cara caught as they tried to come in from the side.
     The  screams of some of the men as they fell woke the whole encampment.
Men rushed  out of barracks below, pulling on  their  trousers  and  shirts,
dragging weapon belts behind.
     In the faint starlight, Kahlan spotted Richard by the dropgate. He took
a  mighty swing. Sparks showered across the wall  as the sword shattered one
of  the heavy  chains holding up the gate. Richard ran to the other side, to
cut the other chain. Two men  caught up to him there. In one fluid movement,
Richard cut them both down.
     As Cara dropped other men who were rushing in at Richard,  he swung the
sword  again.  White-hot fragments of steel  filled  the air along with  the
ringing sound of metal shattering. The  gate groaned and slowly  started  to
fall outward. Richard heaved his weight against it  and it picked  up speed.
With a resounding crash, it came down, raising clouds of dust.
     A  great cry rose up as men  outside, wielding swords, axes, and battle
maces, charged in across the broken  bridge and into the  fortification. The
soldiers rushed to meet the invasion and there was a  great clash of weapons
and men.
     Kahlan  saw, then, that  soldiers were racing  up  the stairway on  the
opposite side of the balcony.
     "Come on!" Kahlan yelled to the women. "We have to get out now!"
     Holding the rail to keep her balance, Kahlan raced down  the steps, all
the women pouring  down  behind  her,  a  number  carrying screaming babies.
Richard ran to meet her  at the  bottom.  He tossed her a short sword with a
leather-wound grip. Kahlan caught it by the handle just in time to turn  and
slash a soldier running up from beneath the balcony.
     Owen  made his way through the fighting and  over to the  women.  "Come
on!" he called to them. "Get to the gate! Run!"
     The  women,  galvanized  by  his  command,  started  running across the
compound.  As they  reached  the fighting,  some of  the  women, instead  of
running out the gate, took the opportunity to leap on  the backs of soldiers
fighting Owen and his men. The women bit the men on the backs, beat at their
heads, tore at their eyes.  The soldiers were not restrained in dealing with
the women, and  several were brutally  killed.  It  didn't stop  others from
joining the fight.
     If they would  only run for the  gate, they could escape, but  instead,
they  were attacking the soldiers with their bare hands. They  had been held
in bondage to these men for a very long time. Kahlan could only imagine what
they had gone through and couldn't say she blamed them. She was still having
difficulty moving, making her body do what she wanted it to do, or she would
have joined them.
     Kahlan  turned  at a sound only to  see  a man charging in at  her. She
recognized his flattened nose. Najari--Nicholas's right-hand man. He was one
of the men who had carried her  to the  fortification. He wore a wicked grin
as he came for her.
     She could have used her power on him, but she feared  to trust it right
then.  She  instead brought  the short sword  out from behind her  back  and
slammed it through Najari's gut. He stood stiffly right in front of her, his
eyes wide.  She could  smell the stink of  his breath.  Kahlan  wrenched the
handle of the  sword to the  side. Mouth opened wide, he panted,  fearing to
draw a deep  breath,  fearing to  move and cause  any  more  damage.  Kahlan
gritted her teeth and swept the sword's handle around in an arc, ripping his
insides apart.
     She stared into his startled eyes as he slid off her  sword. He grunted
in pain as  he dropped to  his knees, holding his wound together as  best he
could. He never got what Kahlan knew he intended, what Nicholas had promised
him. He fell forward  onto his  face, spilling his insides across the ground
at her feet.
     Kahlan turned to  the  attack. Richard  was engaged in slashing his way
through  men trying to surround  him  as he fought  to keep  the gate clear.
Others, Richard's men, came at the enemy from behind,  cutting into them the
way Richard had taught them.
     Kahlan saw Owen not  far  away. He was standing in the open, among  the
fallen  and  the fighting, staring  across the raging  battle to a man  just
outside one of the doors under the balcony.
     The man had a thick black beard, a shaved  head, and a ring through one
ear and one nostril. His arms were as big as tree limbs. His  shoulders were
twice as wide as Owen's.
     "Luchan." Owen said to himself.
     Owen  started  across  the  open area of the  fortification,  past  men
engaged in  pitched  battle, past those  crying  out  and  those falling  to
blades, past swords and axes sweeping through the  air, as if he didn't even
see them. His eyes were locked on the man watching him come.
     The face of a young woman appeared in the dark doorway behind Luchan He
turned and growled at her to go back inside, that he  was going to take care
of the little man from her village.
     When Luchan turned back around, Owen was standing before him.
     Luchan laughed and put  his  fists  on his hips. "Why don't  you scurry
back into your hole?"
     Owen said nothing, gave no warning, made no demands. He simply lit into
Luchan with  a  vengeance  -- just  as Richard  had  counseled  him to do --
slamming a knife into the big man's chest over and over before Luchan  had a
chance to react. He had underestimated Owen. It had cost him his life.
     The woman rushed out of the doorway and came to a halt over the body of
her former master. She stared down at him, at his one arm splayed out to the
side, at  the other lying across his bloody chest, at the unseeing eyes. She
looked up at Owen.
     Kahlan assumed that this was Marilee, and feared that she was  going to
reject  Owen for harming  another, that she  would castigate him for what be
had done.
     Instead, she rushed to Owen and threw her arms around him.
     The woman went to her knees beside the  body and took the  bloody knife
from Owen's  hand.  She turned to the fallen  Luchan and stabbed him half  a
dozen times with such force that it drove  the knife in  up to the hilt with
every thrust. Watching her  tearful fury, Kahlan  didn't have  to wonder how
she had been treated by the man.
     Her anger spent, she stood again and tearfully hugged Owen.
     Kahlan needed to get to  Richard. She  was relieved that her ability to
move as she  intended was returning.  She started making her way  around the
edge of the battle, staying close to  the walls,  past men who  saw her  and
thought  she would be  an easy mark. They didn't  know that from a young age
she  had been taught to  use  a sword  by her  father, King Wyborn, and that
Richard had later honed her skill to deadly proficiency, teaching her how to
use her lighter weight to give her lethal speed. It was the last mistake the
men made.
     Off across the open area, a mob of  soldiers, now fully awake and fully
prepared to engage in battle, swarmed out of the barracks.  They all charged
for Richard. Kahlan knew right  away that there were too many. Richard's men
couldn't stop the flood  of soldiers as they streamed across the encampment.
All of them crashed in toward Richard.
     Kahlan  heard a  deafening crack like  lightning as  the  walls of  the
fortification lit  with a flash. She  had to  turn away and shield her eyes.
Night turned to day, and at the same time, a darkness darker  than any night
was loosed.
     A blazing white-hot bolt  of Additive  Magic twisted and  coiled around
and through a crackling black void of Subtractive Magic, creating a  violent
rope of twin lightning joined to a terrible purpose.
     It seemed as if the noonday sun crashed down among them. The air itself
was drawn into  the fierce heat and light. Try as she might, Kahlan couldn't
draw a breath against the force of it.
     Richard's fury  gathered it  all into a single  point. In  an explosive
instant, the thunderous ignition  of light unleashed a devastating blast  of
staggering  destruction  radiating  outward  across  the  entire encampment,
annihilating the Imperial Order soldiers.
     The night fell dark and silent.
     Men and women stood stunned among the sea of  blood and viscera, gazing
around at the unrecognizable remains of the enemy soldiers.
     The battle was over.  The people of Bandakar  had carried  the day.  At
last, the women fell to  wailing and crying, ecstatic to  be free. They knew
many of the men who  had come to free them,  and clung to them in gratitude,
overwhelmed with joy to  be  reunited. They  hugged friends, relatives,  and
strangers alike. The men, too, wept with relief and happiness.
     Kahlan  rushed through  the  maze of rejoicing people crowded into  the
open area of the fortification. Men cheered her, thrilled that she, too, had
been liberated. Many of the men wanted to talk to  her, but she kept running
to get to Richard.
     He stood to the  side, leaning against the wall,  Cara helping  to hold
him up. He  still gripped his blood-slicked  sword  in his fist, the blade's
tip resting on the ground.
     Owen, too, made his way over to Richard.
     "Mother Confessor! I'm so relieved  and thankful to  have you back!" He
looked over  at  a  smiling  Richard. "Lord Rahl, I would like you  to  meet
Marilee."
     This woman, who only a short time ago had savagely  stabbed the  corpse
of her captor now seemed too shy to speak. She dipped her head in greeting.
     Richard  straightened and  smiled that smile Kahlan so loved to  see, a
smile filled with the sheer pleasure of life.  "I'm very  happy to meet you,
Marilee. Owen has told us all about you, and about how much you mean to him.
Through all that happened, you were  always first in his mind and heart. His
love for you moved him to act to change his entire empire for the better."
     She seemed to be overwhelmed by it all, and by his words.
     "Lord Rahl  came to us and did something more important  than saving us
all," Owen told Marilee. "Lord Rahl gave me the  courage to  come  and fight
for you, to fight to save you--for all of us to fight for our own  lives and
the lives of those we love."
     Beaming, Marilee leaned in and kissed Richard on the cheek. "Thank you,
Lord Rahl. I never knew my Owen could do such things."
     "Believe me,"  Cara  said,  "we  had our  doubts about him,  too."  She
clapped Owen on the back of the shoulder. "But he did well."
     "I,  too,  have come to understand  the value  of what  he  has  done,"
Marilee said to Richard, "of the things you seem to have taught our people."
     Richard smiled  at the two  of them, but then  he could  no longer hold
back the coughing that so hurt  him. The  mood of joyous liberation suddenly
changed. People rushed in around them, helping to  hold him  up. Kahlan  saw
blood running down his chin.
     "Richard," she cried. "No ..."
     They eased  him to the ground. He clutched at  Kahlan's sleeve, wanting
to have her close. Kahlan saw tears running down Cara's cheek.
     It seemed  that  he  had spent  all  the strength  he had left.  He was
slipping  into  the fatal  grasp  of the  poison, and there was nothing they
could do for him.
     "Owen,"  Richard said, panting to catch  his  breath when the  spell of
coughing stopped. "How far to your town?" His voice was getting hoarse.
     "Not far--only hours, if we hurry."
     "The man who made the poison and the antidote ... he lived there?"
     "Yes. His place is still there."
     "Take me there."
     Owen looked puzzled, but he nodded eagerly. "Of course."
     "Hurry," Richard added, trying to get up. He couldn't.
     Tom appeared in the crowd. Jennsen was there, too.
     "Get some poles!" Tom commanded. "And some canvas,  or blankets.  We'll
make a  litter. Four men at a time can  carry  him. We can  run and  get him
there quickly."
     Men rushed to the buildings, searching for what they would need to make
a litter.





        CHAPTER 65



     Kahlan hurriedly pulled  the tin off the shelf and opened  the lid. The
tin contained a yellowish powder. It was the right  color.  She  leaned down
and showed it to Richard as he lay in the  litter. He  reached in and took a
pinch.
     He smelled it. He put his tongue to it and then nodded.
     "Just  a little," he whispered, lifting it out  to her. Kahlan held out
her palm while he dribbled some of  the crushed powder in her hand. He threw
the rest on  the floor, too weak to bother returning it  to the tin.  Kahlan
added the small portion on her palm to one of the pots of boiling water.
     Cloth  bags of herbs steeped in other pots of hot water. Alkaloids from
dried mushrooms were soaking in oil. Richard had other people grating stalks
of plants.
     "Lobelia," Richard said. His eyes were closed.
     Owen bent down. "Lobelia?"
     Richard nodded. "It will be a dried herb."
     Owen turned to the shelves and started  looking. There were hundreds of
little square cubbyholes in the wall of the place where the man who had made
Richard's poison, and the antidote,  used to work. It was  a  small, simple,
single-room building with  little light. It was not nearly as well  equipped
as the herbalist places Kahlan had seen before, but the man had an extensive
collection  of  things.  More  than  that,  he had  once made the  antidote,
presumably from what was there.
     "Here!" Owen  said, holding a bag  down  for  Richard to see. "It  says
lobelia on the tag."
     "Grind  a little  pile half the size  of  your thumbnail, sift  out the
fibers and discard  them, then add  what's  left to the bowl with the darker
oil."
     Richard knew about herbs, but he didn't know anywhere near enough about
herbs to concoct the cure for the poison he had been given.
     His gift seemed to be guiding him.
     Richard was  in  a  near trance,  or  nearly unconscious; Kahlan wasn't
exactly sure which. He was having difficulty breathing. She didn't know what
else  to do  to help him. If they didn't do  something, he was going to die,
and  soon.  As long as  he  lay  quietly on the litter  he  was resting more
comfortably, but that was not going to make him recover.
     It had been a short run to Witherton, but it had  taken too long as far
as Kahlan was concerned.
     "Yarrow," Richard said.
     Kahlan leaned down. "What preparation?"
     "Oil," Richard said.
     Kahlan fumbled  through  the shelves  of  small bottles.  She found one
labeled YARROW OIL. She squatted down and held it before Richard.
     "How much?"
     She lifted one  of  his hands and  put  the bottle in it,  closing  his
fingers around it so he could tell its size. "How much?"
     "Is it full?"
     Kahlan hurriedly wiggled out the whittled wooden stopper. "Yes."
     "Half," Richard said. "In with any of the other oils."
     "I found the feverfew," Jennsen said as she hopped down from the stool.
     "Make a tincture," Richard told her.
     Kahlan replaced  the  stopper  in the bottle and squatted  down  beside
Richard. "What next?"
     "Make an infusion of mullein."
     "Mullein, mullein," Kahlan mumbled as she turned to the task.
     As  Richard gave  them  instructions,  half  a  dozen people worked  at
boiling, blending, crushing, grating,  filtering,  and  steeping. They added
some of  the preparations  together as  they were completed, and kept others
separate as they worked on them. As they worked, the number of various tasks
were combined and reduced at specified points.
     Richard gestured for Owen. Owen brushed  his hands clean on his trouser
legs as he bent down to await instruction.
     "Cold," Richard said, his eyes closed. "We need something cold. We need
a way to cool it."
     Owen thought a moment. "There's a stream not far."
     Richard  pointed to various stations where  people labored. "Pour those
bowls  of preparations and powders  into  the boiling  water in  the kettle,
there. Then take it to the stream. Hold the kettle down in the water to cool
it." Richard held up  a finger in caution. "Don't put it in too deep and let
the water from the stream run in over the top, or it will be ruined."
     Owen shook his head. "I won't."
     He stood  impatiently as Kahlan  poured the  contents  of shallow bowls
into  the  boiling pot  of water. She didn't know if any of this made sense,
but she knew that Richard had the gift, and he certainly had figured out and
eliminated  the  problem he had been having with it. If his gift could guide
him in making the antidote, it might save his life.
     Kahlan didn't know anything else that would.
     She handed  the kettle  to Owen.  He ran out  the door to put it in the
stream to cool it. Cara  followed him out to make sure that nothing happened
to what might be the only thing that could save Richard's life.
     Jennsen sat on the  floor  on the other side of  him, holding his hand.
With  the back  of her wrist, Kahlan pushed her hair  off her face.  She sat
beside Richard and took his free hand to wait for Owen and Cara to return.
     Betty  stood  in  the doorway,  her  ears  pricked  forward,  her  tail
intermittently  going into a  hopeful  blur  of wagging whenever Jennsen  or
Kahlan looked her way.
     It seemed like hours  until Owen came  running back  with  the  kettle,
although Kahlan knew it really hadn't been all that long.
     "Filter it through a cloth," Richard said, "but don't squeeze the cloth
at the end; just let the liquid run through until you have half a cup of it.
Once you've done that, then add the  oils to the liquid you collected in the
cup."
     Everyone stood  watching Kahlan work,  snatching  up what  she  needed,
tossing  it  away when she was finished with it. When she  had enough liquid
from the kettle collected in the cup, she poured in the oils.
     "Stir it with a stick of cinnamon," Richard said.
     Owen climbed up on the stool. "I remember seeing cinnamon."
     He handed a stick down to Kahlan. She stirred the golden liquid, but it
didn't seem to be working.
     "The oil and water don't want to mix," she told Richard.
     His head  was rolled to the side away  from her. "Keep mixing. A moment
will come when they suddenly come together."
     Dubious,  Kahlan kept  stirring. She  could  see  that  the  oils  were
sticking  together  in globs and not mixing  with the water she had filtered
through the cloth. The more it cooled, the less and  less it looked  like it
was going to work.
     Kahlan felt  a tear of desperation run down  her cheek and drip off her
jaw.
     The  contents of the cup  stiffened. She kept stirring, not  wanting to
tell Richard that it wasn't working. She swallowed past the growing lump  in
her throat.
     The  contents  in  the cup began  to melt. Kahlan  gasped. She blinked.
Everything in the cup suddenly went together into a smooth, syrupy liquid.
     "Richard!"  She  wiped the tear from  her cheek. "It  worked.  It mixed
together. Now what?"
     He held his hand out. "It's ready. Give it to me."
     Jennsen and Cara helped him to sit up. Kahlan held the  precious cup in
both hands  and carefully put it to his mouth. She tipped it up  to help him
drink. It took a while to get it down.  He had to stop from  time to time as
he sipped, trying not to cough.
     It was a lot more  than  had  been  in any of  the  little square-sided
bottles, but Kahlan figured that maybe he needed more, since  he was so late
to be taking it.
     When he was finished, she reached up and set the cup on the counter.She
licked a drop of the  liquid off  her  finger.  The antidote had the  slight
aroma of cinnamon and a sweet, spicy taste. She hoped that was right.
     Richard worked at recovering  his breath after  the effort of drinking.
They  gently  laid him back  down.  His  hands  were  trembling.  He  looked
miserable.
     "Just let me rest, now," he murmured.
     Betty, still  standing in  the  doorway, watching intently, bleated her
wish to come in.
     "He will be all right," Jennsen said to  her friend. "You just stay out
there and let him rest."
     Betty pulled softly and then lay down in the doorway to wait along with
the rest  of them. It was going  to be a long night. Kahlan didn't think she
was going to be able to sleep until she knew if Richard would be all right.

     Zedd pointed. "There's another one,  there,  that  needs to be  cleaned
up," he said to Chase.
     Chase wore a chain-mail shirt over a tan leather tunic. His heavy black
trousers  held a  black belt set with  a large silver buckle emblazoned with
the  emblem  of  the boundary wardens. Beneath  his  black  cloak,  strapped
everywhere--legs, waist, upper arms, over the  backs of his shoulders--was a
small arsenal of weapons, everything from small thin spikes held in the fist
and  used  to puncture the skull  to a  crescent-shaped  battle-axe  used to
divide a skull cleanly with one blow. Chase was deadly with any of them.
     It  had been  a while now  since they needed the  skills of a  boundary
warden. Chase seemed to be a man without a mission.
     The  big  man walked across  the rampart and bent to  pull a knife from
beneath the body.
     He grunted in  recognition. "There  it is." He  held the walnut-handled
knife up to the light as he inspected it. "I was worried I'd lost it."
     He slipped the knife into  an empty sheath without having to look. With
one hand, he grabbed  the waistband of the trousers and picked up the  stiff
body. He stepped into an opening in the crenellated wall and heaved the body
out into the air.
     Zedd  looked  over the  edge.  It  was a  drop of several thousand feet
before  the rock of  the mountain flared enough for anything falling to make
contact. It was several thousand  more feet  down a granite cliff before the
forest began.
     The golden sun was  getting low in the mountains. The  clouds had taken
on streaks, of gold and  orange. From this  distance,  the city below was as
beautiful as ever, except Zedd  knew that  it was an empty place without the
people to bring it life.
     "Chase, Zedd," Rachel called from the doorway, "the stew is ready."
     Zedd threw  his skinny arms into the air. "Bags! It's about time! A man
could starve waiting for stew to cook."
     Rachel  planted her fist with the  wooden spoon on her hip  and shook a
finger of her other hand at  him. "If you keep saying  bad words, you'll not
get any dinner."
     Chase let  out a sigh as he glanced over  at Zedd. "And  you think  you
have troubles. You wouldn't think that a girl who doesn't come up to my belt
buckle could be such a trial."
     Zedd followed  Chase  to the doorway through the thick  stone wall. "Is
she always this much trouble?"
     Chase mussed Rachel's hair on the way past. "Always," he confided.
     "Is the stew good?" Zedd asked. "Worth watching my language for?"
     "My  new  mother taught me  how to make it," Rachel said  in a tempting
singsong. "Rikka had some before she went out, and she said it was good."
     Zedd smoothed back his  unruly white hair. "Well, Emma can cook  better
than any woman I ever met."
     "Then be good," Rachel said, "and I'll give you biscuits to go with the
stew."
     "Biscuits!"
     "Sure. Stew wouldn't be stew without biscuits."
     Zedd blinked at the child. "Why, that's what I always thought, too."
     "You'd better let  me see if she made it right,  first," Chase said  as
they passed  through  the tapestry lined halls of the Keep. "I'd hate you to
go making any firm commitments before we even know if the stew is edible."
     "Friedrich helped me  with the heavy parts," Rachel said. "He says it's
good."
     "We'll see," Chase said.
     Rachel turned and shook her wooden spoon at him. "You have to wash your
hands, first, though. I saw  you throwing that dead  man over  the wall. You
have to wash your hands before you come to the table and eat."
     Chase gave Zedd a look of strained  forbearance.  "Somewhere, there's a
boy enjoying  himself  right  now, probably carrying  around  a  dead  frog,
oblivious  to  the  sorry  fact that he's someday  going  to be  married  to
little-miss-wash-your-hands-before-you-eat."
     Zedd smiled. When Chase  had taken Rachel in to be his daughter, it was
just about the best thing Zedd  could  ever have wished for, Rachel  thought
so,  too, and it looked like she  still did. She was fiercely devoted to the
man.
     As they sat at the table, before the  cheery  fire in the  hearth, Zedd
enjoying  his third bowl of  stew, he couldn't  recall the Keep being such a
wonderful place. It was because there was  a child, along with friends, once
again in the halls of the Keep.
     Friedrich, the man who had come on Richard's orders to warn Zedd of the
impending attack on the Keep, had realized he had not been in time. The  man
used his head and had sought out Chase, the  old friend he had heard Richard
talk about.
     While Chase had gone to rescue Zedd and Adie, Friedrich had returned to
the Keep  to spy on the people who  had taken it. By watching  carefully and
staying out of sight  of a Sister,  Friedrich had been able to provide Chase
and Zedd  invaluable information  about  the number of  people occupying the
Keep, and their routines. He then helped take the place back.
     Zedd liked the man. He was not only frightfully handy with a knife, but
entertaining  at  conversation. Friedrich, since  he had been  married  to a
sorceress, was able to converse with Zedd without  being intimidated as some
were of  wizards.  Having lived  in D'Hara all his life, Friedrich  was also
able to fill in pieces of information.
     Rachel held up a carving of  a hawk. "Look what  Friedrich made for me,
Zedd. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you ever did see?"
     Zedd smiled. "It certainly is."
     "It's nothing," Friedrich  scoffed. "If I  had some gold  leaf, then  I
could gild it for you. That used  to be what I  did for a living." He leaned
back and smiled to himself. "Until Lord Rahl made me a boundary warden."
     "You know,"  Zedd drawled  offhandedly to  both men,  "the Keep is even
more vulnerable,  now, to those  who might come and don't have magic than to
those who do. I'm just  fine protecting  against  those who  are affected by
magic, but not the other kind."
     Chase nodded. "Seems so."
     "Well, the thing is," he went on, "I was thinking that since there's no
boundary any longer, and  what with all  the trouble about,  perhaps you two
would like to  take on the responsibility of helping to protect the Wizard's
Keep. I'm not nearly so fit for the task as would be someone trained in such
things." Zedd leaned in, his brow lowering. "It's vitally important."
     Elbows on the table, Chase chewed a bite of biscuit as he watched Zedd.
Finally, he stirred his spoon around in his bowl.
     "Well, it could be  a disaster if Jagang were to use those ungifted men
to  get  his hands on  the place  again." He  thought  about it. "Emma  will
understand."
     Zedd shrugged. "Bring her here."
     Chase frowned. "Bring her here?"
     Zedd gestured around. "The Keep is certainly big enough."
     "But what would we do with our children?" Chase leaned back. "You don't
want all my children here in the Keep,  Zedd--they'd be running up and down,
playing in  the halls.  It would  drive  you batty.  Besides," Chase  added,
peering with one scowling eye at Rachel, "each one's uglier than the next."
     Rachel hid her giggle behind a biscuit.
     Zedd  remembered  the  sounds  of  children's laughter in the Keep, the
sounds of joy and love.
     "Well, it would be a burden," he agreed, "but this is, after all, about
the protection of the  Keep. What sacrifice wouldn't it  be  worth making to
protect the Keep?"
     Rachel looked from Chase to Zedd. "My new sister,  Lee, could bring Cat
back to you, Zedd."
     "That's right!" Zedd said, throwing  his  hands up. "I haven't seen Cat
for ages! Is Lee treating Cat well?"
     Rachel nodded earnestly. "Oh, yes. We all take good care of Cat."
     "What do  you  think, Rachel?" Chase finally asked.  "Would you want to
live here in this dusty old place with Zedd?"
     Rachel ran over and hugged Chase's  leg.  "Oh, yes, can  we, please? It
would be ever so grand."
     Chase sighed. "Then I guess it's settled. But you'll have to behave and
not bother Zedd by being too loud."
     "I promise," Rachel said.  She frowned up at Zedd. "Will Mother have to
crawl into the Keep through that little tunnel, like we did?"
     Zedd chuckled. "No, no, we'll let her come in the  proper way, like the
lady she is." He turned to Friedrich. "How about it, boundary  warden? Would
you  be willing to continue doing Lord Rahl's bidding and stay to help guard
the Keep?"
     Friedrich  slowly  spun  the  bird  carving by  the  tip of  one  wing,
thinking.
     "You know," Zedd added, "while you're waiting for some fearsome attack,
there  are  any number of  old gilded things here at  the Keep  that  are in
terrible  need of  repair. Perhaps you would  consider taking on  the job of
being the Keep's official gilder? We have plenty of gold leaf. And, someday,
when the  people  return to  Aydindril, you  would  have a steady  supply of
customers."
     Friedrich  stared down at the table. "I don't know. This  one adventure
was  all well and good, but since my wife, Althea,  died, I don't seem to be
interested in much."
     Zedd nodded. "I know how it is. I used to have a wife. I think it would
do you good to get paid to do something needed."
     Friedrich smiled. "All right, then. I will take your job, wizard."
     "Good," Chase said. "I'll have someone to help  me when  I need to lock
troublesome children in the dungeon."
     Rachel giggled as he set her on the ground.
     Chase pushed his chair back and stood. "Well, Friedrich, if we're going
to be Keep wardens,  then I think we ought  to make  some rounds and satisfy
ourselves about the security of a few things. As big as this place is, Rikka
could use the help."
     "Just mind  the shields," Zedd reminded them  as they  headed  for  the
door.
     After the two men had gone off, Rachel got Zedd another  biscuit  to go
with the rest of his stew. Her little brow bunched together earnestly.
     "When we live here, we'll try to be real quiet for you, Zedd."
     "Well,  you know, Rachel,  the Keep is a big  place. I doubt you  would
bother  me much if you and your brothers and sisters wanted to play a little
bit."
     "Really?"
     Zedd  pulled the leather-covered ball painted with faded blue  and pink
zigzagged lines all around it out of his pocket and set it on the table.
     Rachel's eyes lit up in astonishment.
     "I found this  old ball," he said, gesturing with his biscuit. "I think
a ball has a much better time if  it has someone  to play  with  it.  Do you
think you and your brothers and sisters might like  to  play with this  when
you live here? You can bounce it down the halls to your heart's content."
     Her mouth fell open. "Really, Zedd?"
     Zedd grinned at the look on her face. "Really."
     "Maybe I can bounce it in  the dark  hall that makes the funny  noises.
Then it wouldn't bother you any more than now."
     "This  old  place is full  of  funny noises--and  a bouncing ball isn't
liable to cause too much trouble."
     She climbed  up in his lap  and  put her little arms around  his  neck,
hugging him tightly.
     "It's a lot better hugging you now  that  you found those things to get
that awful collar off your neck."
     Zedd rubbed her back as she hugged him. "Yes, it is,  little one;  yes,
it is."
     She leaned back and looked at him. "I wish Richard and Kahlan could  be
here to play with the ball, too. I miss them something fierce."
     Zedd smiled. "Me, too, little one. Me, too."
     She frowned at him. "Don't get tears, Zedd. I won't make a lot of noise
to bother you."
     Zedd shook a bony  finger  at her. "I'm afraid you have a  lot to learn
about playing with a ball."
     "I do?"
     "Of course.  Laughing  goes with playing with  a ball  like biscuits go
with stew."
     She frowned at him, not sure if he was telling the truth.
     He set her on the floor. "Tell you what. Why don't you come with me and
I'll show you."
     "Really, Zedd?"
     Zedd stood up and mussed her hair. "Really."
     He scooped the ball off the table. "Let's see if you can show this ball
how to have a good time."





        CHAPTER 66



     Richard rested his back against a rock in the shade of a stand of white
oaks as he gazed off  at the line of silver maples shimmering in the breeze.
The air smelled fresh after the rain of the day before. The clouds had moved
on and left a clear, bright blue sky behind. His head finally felt clear, as
well.
     It had taken  three days, but he was finally recovered from the effects
of the poison. His  gift  had  not  only helped bring Kahlan  back from  the
brink, but himself as well.
     The people  of the town of Witherton were just beginning to  try to put
their lives back together. With all the people they'd  lost, it was going to
be difficult for  them.  There  were  gaping holes where  there  used  to be
friends or members of families. Still, now that they were free there was the
beginning of a vibrant sense of their future being better.
     But just because they were free, that did not mean they would stay that
way.
     Richard  gazed up the broad valley beyond  the  town. People  were  out
working with their crops and tending to the animals. They were going back to
their  lives. He was impatient to be on  his way,  and back to his own life.
This place had kept them from  important business, from people who had  been
waiting for them.
     He guessed that this place had been important business as well. It  was
hard telling what this all had begun, or what the future would hold.
     For sure, the world would never be the same.
     Richard saw Kahlan coming out through the gate, Cara  beside her. Betty
frolicked along at their  side,  eager to see where they were going. Jennsen
must have let the goat go  for  a  romp. Betty had  grown up  and spent  her
entire life on the move. She'd  never  stayed  in one place for long.  Maybe
that was why she always wanted to follow Richard and  Kahlan. She recognized
family and wanted to be with them.
     "So, what's she going to do?" Richard asked  Kahlan as she  came  close
and set her pack down beside Richard's.
     "I don't know." With the flat of her hand  to her brow, Kahlan shielded
her eyes from the sunlight. "I think she wants to tell you first."
     Cara set her pack beside Kahlan's. "I think she's torn and doesn't know
what to do."
     "How do  you feel?" Kahlan  asked  as  she  reached  down and with  her
fingertips rubbed the  back of  his shoulder. Her gentle touch was a calming
connection.
     Richard smiled up at her. "I keep telling you, I'm fine."
     He tore off a strip of dried venison and  chewed as he watched Jennsen,
Tom,  Owen, Marilee,  Anson, and a  small  group of  the  men finally emerge
through  the gates and make  their way across the waving field of waist-high
green grass.
     "I'm hungry," Kahlan said. "Can I have some?"
     "Sure." Richard pulled  strips  of the meat from his  pack,  stood, and
handed a piece to both Kahlan and Cara.
     "Lord Rahl," Anson  said, waving, as the group joined  Richard, Kahlan,
and Cara in the shade of the oaks, "we wanted  to come  out  to say good-bye
and see you off. Maybe we will walk with you toward the pass?"
     Richard swallowed. "We'd like that."
     Owen frowned. "Lord Rahl, why are you eating meat? You just healed your
gift. Won't you harm your balance?"
     Richard smiled.  "No.  You  see, incorrectly trying  to  apply a  false
notion of balance was what caused the problem I was having with my gift."
     Owen looked puzzled. "What do you mean?  You said that you must not eat
meat as the balance to the killing you  sometimes must do. After  the battle
at the fortification, don't you need to balance your gift all the more?"
     Richard took a deep breath  and let it out  slowly as he gazed out over
the mountains.
     "You see,  the thing is," Richard said, "I  owe you all an apology. You
all listened to me, but I didn't listen to myself.
     "Kaja-Rang tried to help me with the words revealed on the statue,  the
words I told you--Deserve Victory. They were, first of all, meant for me."
     "I don't understand," Anson said.
     "I told you  that your life is your own to live and that you have every
right to defend it.
     "Yet,  I was telling  myself that I had to balance the killing I did to
defend  my life  and the  lives  of m