Wizard's First Rule

"Mistress Denna, why would he do this to you?"

She winced when he put the soapy cloth to her back… "Constance told him I was being too easy on you. I deserve what was done to me. I have been lax in your training. I am Mord-Sith. I should have done better. I received only that which I deserve."

"You do not deserve this, Mistress Denna, it is me who should have taken the punishment. Not you."

Her hands trembled as she held the sides of the tub and he carefully washed her. He gently wiped the sweat off the white skin of her face. She stared ahead the whole time he worked, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

Her lip quivered. "Tomorrow, Master Rahl will see you." His hand stopped washing for a second. "I'm sorry, Richard. You will answer his questions."

He glanced up at her face, but she didn't look back. "Yes, Mistress Denna." He rinsed her off with water cupped in his hands. "Let me dry you off." He did it as gently as he could. "Do you wish to sit, Mistress Denna?"

She gave an embarrassed smile. "I don't think I would like that, just now." She turned her head stiffly. "Over there. I will lie on the bed." She took his hand when he put it out for her. "I can't seem to stop shaking. Why can't I stop shaking?"

"Because it hurts, Mistress Denna."

"I've had much worse than this done to me. This was only a small reminder of who I am. But still, I can't stop shaking."

She lay facedown on the bed, her eyes on him. Richard's worry made his mind start working again.

"Mistress Denna, is my pack still here?"

"In the cabinet. Why?"

"Just lie still. Mistress Denna, let me do something, if I can remember how."

He pulled his pack from a high shelf in the cabinet, laid it on the table, and-started rummaging through it. Denna watched him, the side of her face resting on the backs of her hands. Beneath a carved bone whistle on a leather thong, he found the package he was searching for, and laid it open on the table. He pulled out a tin bowl, took his knife from his belt, and laid it, too, on the table. He stood and took a jar of cream from the cabinet. He had seen her spread it on her skin. It was just what he needed.

"Mistress Denna, may I use this?"

"Why?„

"Please?"

"Go ahead."

Richard took the entire pile of neatly stacked, dried aum leaves and put them in the tin bowl, then selected a few other herbs he remembered by smell, but not by name, and dumped them in with the aum leaves. With the knife handle, he ground it all into a powder. Picking up the jar of cream, he scooped it all out and plopped it into the bowl, mixing it with two fingers. He took the bowl and sat on the bed next to her.

"Just lie still," he told her.

"The appellation, Richard, the appellation. Will you never learn?"

"Sorry, Mistress Denna," he smiled. "You may punish me later. For now, lie still. When I'm finished you will feel well enough to punish me all night. I promise."

'He spread the paste gently on the welts, smoothing it out as he went. Denna moaned. Her eyes closed while he worked. By the time he reached the back of her ankles, she was almost asleep. He stroked her hair while the aum cream soaked in.

"How does that feel, Mistress Denna?" he whispered.

She rolled onto her side, her eyes opening wide. "The pain is gone! How did you do that? How did you make the pain leave?"

Richard smiled in satisfaction. "I learned it from an old friend named…" He frowned. "I can't remember his name. But he's an old friend, and he taught me. I'm so relieved, Mistress Denna. I don't like to see you in pain."

She gently touched her fingers to the side of his face. "You are a very rare person, Richard Cypher. I have never had a mate like you before. The spirits take me, I have never even seen a person like you before. I killed the one who did the things to me that I have done to you, and you instead help me."

"We all can be only who we are, no more, and no less, Mistress Denna." He looked down at his hands. "I don't like what Master Rahl has done to you."

"You, don't understand about the Mord-Sith, my love. We are carefully selected, as young girls. Those chosen to be Mord-Sith are the most gentle, the most kindhearted, that can be found. It is said that the deepest cruelty comes from the deepest caring. All of D'Hara is searched, and each year only about a half dozen are chosen. A Mord-Sith is broken three times."

His eyes were wide. "Three times?" he whispered.

Denna nodded. "The first is the way in which I broke you, to break the spirit. The second is to break our empathy. To do it, we must watch our trainer break our mother, and make her his pet, and watch him hurt her until she dies. The third is to break us of our fear of hurting another, to make us enjoy giving pain. To do it, we must break our fathers, under the guidance of our trainer, and make him our pet, and keep hurting him until we kill him."

Tears trickled down Richard's cheeks. "They did all this to you?"