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Richard puzzled at the old man. “What do you mean it’s blank? It can’t be blank. It’s supposed to be the Secrets of a War Wizard’s Power.”
“It is,” Zedd said in a grave tone.
Richard looked heartbroken, angry, and puzzled all at once. “I don’t understand.”
“Wizard Baraccus left you a wizard’s rule.”
“What wizard’s rule?”
“The rule of all rules. The rule unwritten. The rule unspoken since the dawn of history.”
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. “We don’t have time for riddles. What did he want me to know? What is the rule!”
Zedd shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s never been spoken, and has never been written.
“But Baraccus wanted you to know that it’s the secret to using a war wizard’s power. The only way to express it, to make sure that you would grasp what he was intending to tell you, was to give you a book unwritten to signify the rule unwritten.”
“How am I supposed to use it if I don’t know what it is?”
“That’s a question for yourself, Richard. If you are the one Baraccus thought you were, then you will know how to use what he left for you. He obviously thought it was exceptionally important and worth all the trouble he went to, so I would say that it must be what you need.”
Richard took a deep breath to steady himself. Kahlan felt so sorry for him. He looked at his wits’ end. He looked on the verge of tears.
“My, my, my,” came a voice from behind.
They all spun around.
A reed-thin woman in black smiled a sly smile. Her hair was a tangled nest of black. Her bloodless flesh and blanched eyes made her look cadaverous.
“Six…” Zedd said.
“What do you know, if it isn’t the Mother Confessor. And won’t the emperor be pleased when I bring him Lord Rahl as well, all tied up in a nice bundle.”
Kahlan saw Zedd press his hands to his head, in obvious pain. He staggered back and crumpled to the ground. Richard’s sword made a ringing sound as he drew it. He charged the woman but was stopped short and driven back by forces Kahlan couldn’t see. His sword clattered across the stone floor.
The woman held out a thin finger toward Kahlan. “Not a good idea, Mother Confessor. Not that I care if you fry your own brain trying to turn mine to mush, but you are much more valuable to me alive.”
Kahlan felt the pain of the unseen power forcing her back, just as Richard had been forced back. The debilitating agony was something like the pain from the collar, but sharper, deeper down in her ears. It made the back of her jaw hurt so much that she had to open her mouth. All five of them were cringing back, holding their ears with the pain of it.
“This is going to make things so much easier,” Six said in a self-satisfied manner as she glided toward them, like death itself.
“Six,” a stern voice called from the doorway.
Six spun to a voice she obviously recognized. The pain lifted from Kahlan’s head. She saw the others recovering as well.
“Mother…?” Six said in emotional confusion.
“You have disappointed me, Six,” the old woman said as she stepped forward into the room. “Disappointed me greatly.”
She was slender, much like Six, but stooped with age. Her black hair flared out from her face in much the same way, but it was streaked with white. Her eyes, too, were a blanched blue.
Six backed up a couple of steps. “But I, I…”
“You what?” the old woman demanded in a venomous tone of displeasure. This woman was a commanding presence who feared nothing, least of all Six.
Six cowered back a step. “I don’t understand…”
Kahlan’s jaw dropped as she saw the tight, pale flesh of Six’s face and hands begin to move, as if bubbling from beneath.
Six started screaming in pain, her bony hands groping the crawling flesh of her face.
“Mother, what do you want!”
“It’s quite simple,” the old woman said, stepping closer yet to the witch woman as she shrank away. “I want you to die.”
At that, Six’s whole body jerked about violently as her skin convulsed and churned, looking like it was separating from the turbulent muscle and sinew beneath. She almost looked like she was boiling from within.
The old woman grabbed the suddenly slack skin at the back of Six’s neck. As Six began to crumple downward the old woman gave a mighty pull.
The skin, mostly in one piece, pulled right off the stricken witch woman. She collapsed, a bloody, unrecognizable mess barely contained by the sack of a black dress, to the stone floor. It was about as sickening a sight as Kahlan could imagine.
The old woman, holding the sagging remains of Six’s skin, smiled at them.
They all stood frozen in shock as the old woman seemed to shimmer, her appearance wavering and flickering. Kahlan stared in astonishment. The old woman was no longer old, but young and beautiful, with long, wavy, auburn hair. Her variegated gray dress did little to conceal her sensuous figure. Points of the airy fabric floated as if in a gentle breeze.
“Shota…” Richard said, a grin splitting his face.
She dropped the bloody hide in a sloppy pile, then smiled a coy, teasing smile as she stepped forward and tenderly cupped his cheek with her other hand. Kahlan could feel her own face going red.
“Shota, what are you doing here?” Richard asked.
“Saving your hide, obviously.” She smiled even wider as she glanced down to the remains in the black dress. “I guess it cost Six hers.”
“But, but I don’t understand.”
“Neither did Six,” Shota said. “She expected me to scurry away with my tail between my legs to forever hide in trembling fear that she might find me, so she never expected a visit from her mother. Such a thing was not among her otherwise considerable talents, or her limited imagination, since she had no comprehension of the value of a mother and no empathy with those who do. She could not imagine the power and meaning of such a bond, so such a thing blinded her. Her connection to her mother was loathing schooled by fear.”
Kahlan could feel her face heating even more as she watched Shota run a long lacquered fingernail down the front of Richard’s shirt.
“I don’t like it when someone takes what I have worked for and created,” Shota said to Richard in an intimate voice. “She had no right to what is mine. It took me a great deal of time and effort to reverse all that she had done to sink her treacherous tentacles into my domain, but I did.”
“I think there was more to it, Shota. I think you wanted to help us all.”
Shota stepped away, flicking a hand in acknowledgment as she turned her back on Richard. “The boxes are in play. If the Sisters of the Dark open them a great many people who have done no wrong will die. I, too, will be cast to the Keeper like a scrap
of meat.”
Richard could only nod at the truth of that. He bent and picked up his sword. He held the hilt out. “Here.”
“My dear boy, I’ve no need for a sword.”
Kahlan didn’t know how anyone could have such a beautiful, silken voice. Shota didn’t act like she even knew that there was anyone else in the room. Except when she cast a brief, warning glare at Zedd, her almond eyes rarely left Richard.
“Just humor me and touch it.”
Her whole face softened with a flirtatious smile. “If you say so.”
Her graceful fingers curled around the hilt. Her eyes suddenly turned to see Kahlan standing right there beside him.
“The sword interrupts the ongoing effect of the Chainfire spell,” Richard explained. “It doesn’t reverse it, but it enables you to now see what is before you.”
Her gaze lingered a moment before returning to Richard. “So it does.” Her voice turned serious. “Right now, though, all of us in this room are about to be taken by the power of Orden and given over for all eternity to the Keeper of the dead in the underworld.” Her fingers touched the side of Richard’s face. “As I’ve told you before, you need to stop that from happening.”
“And how am I to do that?”
Shota gave him a scolding look. “We’ve had this discussion before, Richard. You are the player. It is up to you to put the boxes in play.”
Richard heaved a sigh. “We’re a long way from the boxes. Jagang will have them in play long before we can get back.”
Shota smiled at him. “I have a way for you to get back.”
“How?”
Shota pointed a finger skyward. “You can fly.”
Richard cocked his head. “Fly?”
“The dragon that Six had bewitched and was using is up on the rampart.”
“A dragon!” Zedd exclaimed. “You expect Richard to fly on a dragon? What sort of dragon?”
“An angry one.”
“Angry?” Richard asked.
“I’m afraid that I’m not very good at appearing as a dragon’s mother, but I’ve gentled it.” Shota shrugged. “A little, anyway.”
