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.