Stone of Tears

She heard Richard’s words in her mind: You have to be able to shoot no matter what is happening. Just you and the target, that’s all there is. Nothing else matters. You have to be able to block everything else out. You can’t think about how afraid you are, or what will happen if you miss. You have to be able to make the shot under pressure.

She remembered how he had whispered to her, whispered for her to call the target.

With a jolt, the target came to her, as if the wizard were standing right in front of her. She could see the flashes of liquid light jumping from his fingertips.

She could see her target—the bump in his throat bobbing up and down as he laughed. She let her breath flow out, as Richard had taught her. The arrow found the notch in the air.

As gentle as a baby’s breath, the arrow left the bow.

She saw the feathers clear the bow. She saw the string hit her wrist. The stone vine wrapped around her throat. She kept her eyes on the target. She watched the feathers of the arrow as it flew. The pain tearing her insides rose with his laughter.

The wizard’s laughter cut off abruptly. Kahlan heard the thunk of the blade hitting his throat. When the stone vine suddenly dropped away, she fell forward on her hands and knees, tears dripping from her face, as she waited for the pain to melt away. It went with merciful swiftness.

Kahlan staggered to her feet. To the Keeper with you, too, Wizard Neville Ranson!”

There was an earsplitting crack, like a lightning strike, but instead of a flash of light, a ripple of total darkness swept across the room. Bumps rippled up her arms. The lamps flickered back on.

Kahlan knew—the Keeper had indeed taken Wizard Neville Ranson.

She heard a grunt, and turned just in time to see a guard leaping down the steps toward her. Kahlan ducked and came up under him as he landed. She used his momentum to loft him over the railing, into the well below.

He snatched at her as he went over, but his fingers caught only her necklace. It tore from her, and went down with him. Kahlan bent over the railing, seeing him smack the stone floor, three flights down. She saw the necklace tumble from his hand when he hit, and slide across the floor.

“Curse the good spirits,” she growled.

Kahlan started for the stairs to retrieve her bone necklace, but skidded to a stop and looked up at the sound of boots on stone. More guards were coming. She hesitated for a moment, looking down, and then ran for the hallway instead. The spirits hadn’t helped her; what good was a necklace going to do? It wasn’t worth her life.

Kahlan caught the others as they made the outside doors. They all sighed with relief to see her, and to hear that the wizard wouldn’t be coming after them. Kahlan led as they ran out into the night. The four of them raced down the expanse of steps to the relentless sound of the alarm bells behind. She headed south—the shortest distance to the woods.

A breathless Jebra caught her arm, dragging her to a stop. “Mother Confessor… !”

“I am not the Mother Confessor any longer. I am Kahlan.”

“Kahlan then. But you must listen to me. You cannot run away.”

Kahlan turned back to the path through the courtyard. “I’m through with this place.”

“Zedd needs you.”

Kahlan spun back. “Zedd? You know Zedd? Where is he?”

Jebra gulped air. “Zedd sent me to Aydindril. The day after you left D’Hara. He said he had to go get a woman named Adie, and then he would come to the Wizard’s Keep. He sent me here to help you and Richard, and have you wait. Zedd needs you.”

Kahlan gripped Jebra’s shoulders. “I need Zedd. I need him very badly.”

“Then you must let me help you. You must not leave. They will expect you to run, and will search the countryside. They will not expect you to remain in Aydindril.”

“Remain? Stay in Aydindril?”

She thought a moment. She was known in Aydindril. No, not exactly. Her long hair was known. People other than councilors, ambassadors, staff, and nobility rarely saw the Mother Confessor up close, and when they did they mostly stared at her long hair. She no longer had that hair.

The thought of her loss made her insides knot up. She hadn’t known how much her power, and her long hair, meant to her—until they were gone.

“It might work, Jebra. But where would we hide?”

“Zedd gave me gold. No one knows of my involvement in your escape. I will rent rooms and hide you, all of you.”

Kahlan considered it a moment, then smiled. “We could be your servants. A lady like you would have servants.”

Jebra shrank back. “Mother Confessor, I could not do that. I am nothing but a servant myself. Zedd made me pretend to be a lady. But I could not pretend that. You are a true lady.”

“Being a servant does not make you less than me. We all can be only who we are, no more, no less.” Kahlan started them all off again, toward a part of Aydindril with quiet, secluded, and exclusive inns. “And it is startling to learn what you can do when you have to. We will do what we must. But if you keep calling me Mother Confessor, you are going to get us all killed.”