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Zedd shrugged. "He will lay siege to the People's Palace. Verna and some of her Sisters will be there to help defend the place, but the People's Palace is built in the form of a spell that amplifies the power of a Rahl and suppresses it in others. Verna and the Sisters will not be able to wield the full force of their ability. Right now Nathan is the only Rahl we have to help defend the palace and its people."
"That's why we need Nathan to leave at once for the palace," Nicci said.
"Tonight," Zedd added.
Nathan's gaze moved from Zedd's eyes to Nicci's. "I understand. I will do my best. Let us hope that Richard will one day be able to take his place back from me."
At that moment, his words lifted at least a little of the weight from Nicci's heart.
"We will be working on that," Zedd assured him.
"You can count on it," Nicci said.
Cara pointed her Agiel at the prophet. "And you had better not get any crazy notion in your head that you will be keeping the post. It belongs to Lord Rahl."
Nathan arched an eyebrow. "I am the Lord Rahl, now."
Cara made a sour face. "You know what I mean."
Nathan smiled a slow smile.
Ann jabbed Nathan in the ribs with a finger. "And don't you get any grand ideas, Lord Rahl. I'm going with you to make sure you stay out of trouble."
Nathan shrugged. "I guess that the Lord Rahl could use an attendant. You'll do."
* * *
CHAPTER 35
After lying on the ancient, cold stone floor in the depths of a lonely forest for what seemed like an eternity, staring down into the black abyss, not knowing what else to do, Richard finally sat back up. He had called to the sliph until he was nearly hoarse, but there was no answer. The sliph was gone.
Richard put his elbows on his knees. As his head sank, he clasped his hands behind his neck. He felt like he had lost his way and didn't know what to do next. How many times, since he'd left his Hartland woods, had he felt just this way, had he thought that he was at the end of his rope? He'd always found a way. He didn't know if, this time, he could.
As he was growing up, Richard had never known that he had been born with the gift. He'd never known anything at all about magic. Once he discovered that he'd been born with the gift, he didn't want it. He wanted only to be rid of it, as if it was a sickness that had been passed down to him. He just wanted to be himself. But he had finally come to accept the value of his abilities and understand that they were part of who he was. They had on many occasions, after all, helped him save not only his own life, but Kahlan's and many others along the way. His gift was a part of him, something that couldn't be separated from him any more than his heart or lungs could be taken away.
Now, though, he'd somehow lost the gift.
At first, when the sliph had told him that he no longer had the magic required to travel, he'd had a hard time believing that such a thing was possible, that his gift could really be gone. He'd thought it must be a magical malfunction, an anomaly of some sort. Back when he'd wanted to be rid of it, he had inquired as to how he could shed his gift and had learned that such a thing simply wasn't possible.
While it didn't seem conceivable to him, Richard knew that it was true. He knew because along with his gift, he had lost his ability to remember The Book of Counted Shadows. He might as well have never memorized it, because, along with his gift, that memory was suddenly lost.
The Book of Counted Shadows had been a book of magic. The gift was required to be able to read it, and required to remember even so much as a single word of the text. Without the gift, Richard couldn't read books of magic or, more accurately, recall the words long enough to know that there had been anything there to read. Without the gift, books of magic appeared blank. Now his memory of The Book of Counted Shadows had gone dark.
And now he had failed a test he hadn't even known he was taking. He wasn't even at all clear as to what the test had been. Somehow, though, he had failed it.
He felt as if he had failed Kahlan.
He couldn't imagine how those words could have been a test from Baraccus. How could they possibly test him? Test him at what? He didn't know what test the sliph could be talking about, so he had no way to figure out how he had failed it.
He wished he had Zedd to help him figure it out, or Nicci, or Nathan?someone, anyone. He stopped and asked himself how many times that night he had wished for answers, for help, for salvation to come save him. None of the wishes had been answered. Wishes, he knew, never were.
He reminded himself that he was wasting valuable time feeling sorry for himself. He had to think, not sit around hoping that someone else would come along and think for him.
He lay back on the stone and stared up at the canopy of limbs and leaves above and, beyond them, the stars. He smiled, mocking himself, thinking that maybe a falling star would answer his wishes. He pushed aside the thoughts of wishes and put his mind to the task at hand.
He'd run the whole thing through his mind a hundred times and it still made no sense. Baraccus said, through the message left with the sliph, that he didn't have the answers that would save Richard. Baraccus believed, though, that Richard had within him what was needed to succeed. Baraccus told Richard to believe in himself, and wanted him to know that he believed in Richard, although he hadn't used Richard's name, specifically.
The message, Richard reasoned, had been meant for the one who would be born with the Subtractive side of the gift that Baraccus had seen to it was released from the Temple of the Winds, but Baraccus didn't know that person's name, didn't know, specifically, who that person would be. At least, Richard didn't think he did. It made more sense that Baraccus simply spoke directly, personally, without using names. The message had been clear enough without having to use the name of the person who would eventually hear it. That gave it the sound of a direct address.
How could that be a test? How could Richard fail it?
He sighed in frustration as he pulled a long stalk of grass growing from one of the missing mortar joints off to the side. As he considered the issue, he flattened the soft base of the stalk of grass with his front teeth.
Could it be that the sliph somehow had been given some power by Baraccus, like the power he'd given her to act in an emergency, so that she could see whether or not Richard had what it took to succeed? Could it be that this insight given the sliph told her that Richard fell short in some way?
The source. As he stared up at the stars, Richard mulled that over in his mind. He'd told the sliph that he had heard those words before from Shota and then, all of a sudden, the sliph had been done with him.
Could the sliph know Shota? Maybe, in Baraccus's view, Richard should not be associating with a witch woman. Maybe that was the reason Richard had failed—because he hadn't been doing things on his own, by himself. He made a face. He had difficulty imagining that Baraccus wouldn't want him to work with people, to find answers, to solve problems.
He ran over the words in his mind, as best as he could recall them, anyway.
I am sorry. I don't know the answers that would save you. If I did, please believe that I would give them eagerly. But I know the good in you. I believe in you. I do know that you have within you what you must to succeed. There will be times when you doubt yourself. Do not give up. Remember then that I believe in you, that I know you can accomplish what you must. You are a rare person. Believe in yourself.
Know that I believe you are the one who can do it.
That was what the sliph had said was the message from Baraccus. Richard recalled, though, that those had been the same words Shota had told him not very long ago, the last time he had seen her, just before she left.
Richard didn't really believe in coincidence. In this case, he certainly didn't. Shota could not have said by chance the same words that Baraccus had told the sliph to say. The message was too long and too detailed, with characteristics that were far too idiosyncratic.
If that was the case, that it had not be
en coincidence, and Richard was sure it wasn't, then why would Shota have used the exact same words that Baraccus had? Was it a message of some kind? Was she trying to tell him something? Warn him about something?
If the witch woman had wanted to help him, then why didn't she warn him about the test, and tell him? If she could not tell him the answer, she could at least have told him what the test would be. Zedd had often said, though, that a witch woman never told you what you wanted to know without telling you something you didn't. Could that be it? He doubted it, since she had told him a great many terrible things that day—things, it turned out, that had helped him finally grasp what he had to do with the army, rather than allowing them to fight Jagang in a final battle.
The thing that was itching at him, though, was that there were phrases in the message that were unique: answers that would save you; give them eagerly; know the good in you; you have within you what you must to succeed; know that I believe you are the one. Those were all slightly uncommon patterns in the way people spoke. They were not drastically different, but they were a bit eccentric, almost childlike, and yet rather formal in a simplistic way. Richard sighed. He couldn't seem to put his finger on it, but there was something distinctly unconventional in the use of language within that message.
With an icy shock of realization, he remembered.
He remembered why those words had sounded unsettlingly familiar when Shota had said them. It was because he had heard those exact words before.
Those were the exact words that had been spoken by the night wisp the evening of the first day Richard had met Kahlan.
They had been in the wayward pine. Kahlan asked if he was afraid of magic and then, after approving of his answer, she brought out a little striped bottle that held the wisp. The night wisp, Shar, had guided Kahlan across the boundary, but by then it was dying. The wisp was unable to live away from its home place and those of its kind. It didn't have enough strength to cross the boundary again.
