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A clover-leaf-shaped fountain stood centered in the tiled floor. Water spouted high into the air above the top bowl, from where it cascaded down each successive tier of ever wider, scalloped bowls, finally running from points around the bottom bowl in perfectly matched arcs into the surrounding pool contained by an outer wall of variegated white marble made wide enough to act as a bench.
All the way around the oval-shaped room, highly polished, deep red marble columns stood below arches supporting a continuous balcony. A hundred feet overhead a section of glassed roof let in some of the somber, late-day light to balance the glow of the lamps down in the heart of the room. At night, the glassed roof would probably also let in the soft cold light of the moon to give the darkened room a spectral feel, but with it being the new moon, to say nothing of the gathering clouds, there would be no moonlight this night. By the look of the sky through the glassed roof section, Nicci thought that Zedd was right; it did look like it might rain.
Belying first impressions of the Keep, the room was a beautiful, warm entrance to what seemed such a cold and austere exterior. It hinted at the life the place once held. Like the forsaken city down in the valley, Nicci was rather saddened by the emptiness.
“Welcome to the Wizard’s Keep. Perhaps we all should—”
“Zedd,” Richard growled, cutting his grandfather short, “I need to talk to you. Right now. It’s important.”
Beloved grandfather or not, Nicci could see that Richard was at the end of his patience. Tight, white knuckles stood out in stark contrast against his tanned skin and the prominent veins on the backs of his fists. Judging by the way he looked, he hadn’t gotten much sleep in recent days or had much to eat. She didn’t think that she had ever seen him looking this exhausted or this near his wits’ end. Cara, as well, looked well past the limits of her endurance, although she did a good job of covering it; Mord-Sith were trained to ignore physical discomfort. Despite being overjoyed at seeing his grandfather, Richard’s preoccupation with finding the woman from his imagination had cut the pleasantries of the reunion short.
The mad rush that had become life, since that day he had been shot with the arrow and had nearly died, seemed to have come down to this moment.
Zedd blinked in innocent surprise. “Well of course, Richard, of course.” He spread his arms as he spoke in a gentle voice. “You know that you can always talk to me. Whatever is on your mind, you know that—”
“What’s Chainfire?”
That was nearly the first thing he had asked of Nicci, too.
Zedd stood unmoving, a blank look on his face. “Chainfire,” he repeated in a flat tone.
“Yes, Chainfire.”
A serious expression weighing on his face, Zedd considered the question with care, turning toward the fountain as he thought it over. The waiting was almost painful. The fountain burbled and splashed and echoed in the otherwise silent room.
“Chainfire,” Zedd drawled to himself as he ran a sticklike finger along his smooth jawbone while staring into the tumbling, dancing water cascading down each successive tier of the fountain. Nicci stole a glance at Cara, but the Mord-Sith was unreadable. Her drawn face looked as tired and ill-fed as Richard’s, but, being Cara, she stood tall and straight, not allowing her exhaustion to get the better of her.
“That’s right. Chainfire,” Richard said impatiently through gritted teeth. “Do you know what it means?”
Zedd turned back to his grandson, lifting open his hands. He looked not only puzzled but apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Richard, but I’ve never heard the word Chainfire before.”
The fury leaving him, Richard looked like he might fall down. The disappointment was only too evident in his eyes. His shoulders slumped as he let out a breath. Cara carefully, but quietly, slipped a step closer, ready to help him if he collapsed. To Nicci, that looked like a real possibility.
“Richard,” Zedd said, his voice taking on an edge, “where is your sword?”
Richard erupted. “It’s just a piece of steel!”
“Just a piece—”
Richard’s face went crimson. “It’s just a stupid chunk of metal! Don’t you think that there might be more important things to worry about?”
Zedd cocked his head. “More important things? What are you talking about?”
“I want my life back!”
Zedd stared at him, but remained silent, and in doing so thereby almost commanded his grandson to say something more to fill in some of the blanks.
Richard paced from the fountain to a broad band of triple steps that led up between two of the red marble pillars. A long red and gold carpet bordered with simple, black geometric designs ran between the pillars off under a balcony and into the darkness.
Richard raked the fingers of both hands back through his hair. “What difference does it make? No one believes me. No one will help me find her.”
Nicci felt a deep sense of sorrow for him. At that moment she regretted every harsh thing she had ever said trying to convince him that he had only dreamed up Kahlan. He needed to be helped over his delusions, but, at that moment, she would have been happy to let him hold on to them if it would have brought the light of life back into his eyes.
She longed to hold him and tell him that it would be all right, but she couldn’t, for more reasons than one.
Cara, arms hanging straight at her sides, looked just as saddened to see Richard agonizing so. There seemed no end in sight. Nicci suspected that the Mord-Sith would have agreed with Nicci to let Richard have his beautiful dream of the woman he loved. But a lie would not soothe such real pain.
“Richard, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but what does it have to do with the Sword of Truth?” Zedd asked, the edge returning to his voice.
Richard closed his eyes a moment against the torment of saying aloud what he had said so many times, so many times when no one ever believed him.
“I have to find Kahlan.”
Nicci could see him draw tighter, bracing for the usual disconcerting questions as to who he was talking about and where he could ever have gotten such a notion. Nicci could see that it was almost too much for him to bear another person telling him he was imagining things, questioning his sanity. She could see him dreading it even more coming from his grandfather.
Zedd tilted his head a little. “Kahlan?”
“Yes,” Richard said with a sigh and without looking up, “Kahlan. But you wouldn’t know who I’m talking about.”
Ordinarily, Richard would have launched into a ready explanation, but now he looked too dejected to want to bother to explain yet again, to be greeted with incredulity and disbelieving questions.
“Kahlan.” Zedd’s brow drew down in cautious query. “Kahlan Amnell? Is that the Kahlan you’re talking about?”
Nicci froze.
Richard looked up, his eyes wide. “What did you say?” he whispered.
“Kahlan Amnell? That Kahlan?”
Nicci’s heart skipped a beat. Cara’s jaw had dropped.
In a blink, Richard had the front of Zedd’s robes in his fists and had lifted the old man clear of the floor. Richard’s sweat-slicked muscles glistened in the lamplight.
“You said her whole name, Kahlan Amnell. I didn’t tell you her whole name. You said it on your own.”
Zedd was looking more confused by the moment. “But, that’s because the only Kahlan I know of is Kahlan Amnell.”
“You know Kahlan—you know who I’m talking about?”
“The Mother Confessor?”
“Yes, the Mother Confessor!”
“Well, of course. Most people know her, I expect. Richard, what’s gotten into you? Let me down.”
Nicci felt dizzy. She couldn’t believe her own ears. How was such a thing possible? It wasn’t. It was so overwhelmingly, inconceivably impossible that she thought she might faint.
His hands trembling, Richard set his grandfather down. “What do you mean, everyone knows her?”
Zedd pulled on each sleeve in turn, pulling them back down his skinny arms. He rearranged his disheveled robes at his hips, all the time watching his grandson. He looked truly bewildered by Richard’s behavior.
“Richard, what’s the matter with you? How could they not know her? She’s the Mother Confessor, for crying out loud.”
Richard swallowed. “Where is she?”
Zedd shot a brief, confused glance at Cara and then Nicci before looking back at Richard.
“Why, down at the Confessors’ Palace.”
Richard let out a cry of joy and threw his arms around his grandfather.
Chapter 47
