Wizard's First Rule

The sun was fading as Richard left the garden and Darken Rahl. His mind was spinning with all the things he had learned. That Darken Rahl knew which box would kill him was troublesome, but he reasoned that Rahl might be using the Wizard's First Rule on him. Worse was that one of his own had betrayed him. He liked that not one bit. What he liked less was that he knew who it had to be. Shota had told him that Zedd and Kahlan would use their power against him. It had to be Zedd or Kahlan. He couldn't make that fit, no matter how he tried, no matter how he reasoned it out. It couldn't be either, yet it had to be one. He loved them both more than his need to live. Zedd had told him he had to be prepared to kill any of them if they jeopardized winning, even if he thought there was only a chance that they did. He forced the thought out of his mind.

He had to think of a way to get away from Denna. He could be of no help, and none of the rest of it mattered if he couldn't get away from Denna. It would do him no good to think of the other problems if he couldn't get away, and if he didn't figure it, out soon, then Denna was going to hurt him, and he wouldn't be able to think anymore. The things she did to him made it too hard to think, made him forget things. He had to concentrate on that problem first, and worry about the others later.

The sword, he thought Denna controlled the magic of the sword. He didn't need the sword; maybe he could just get rid of it, get rid of the magic she controlled. He reached for the hilt, but the pain of the magic stopped him before he could even touch it.

He walked on through the halls, toward Denna's quarters. It was still a long way. Maybe he could simply go another way, leave the People's Palace. Darken Rahl had told him none of the guards would stop him. When the next intersection of halls came, he started to turn down one. The pain dropped him to his knees. With great effort, he managed to get back to the hall he was supposed to be in. He had to stop and rest, the pain having taken his breath away.

Close, just ahead, the way he was going, the bell for the evening devotion rang. He would go to the devotion; that would give him time to think. He knelt, relieved that the pain of the magic didn't come on. It was one of the squares with water. He liked them best; they were the most peaceful. Close to the edge of the water, with people all about, Richard put his head to the tile floor and began chanting, clearing his mind, letting himself go empty. He used the chanting to melt his worries, his fears, his concerns. He put his thoughts of all the problems away, let his mind seek peace, let it wander where it would. The devotion was over, it seemed, in no time. He stood; refreshed, renewed, and started off again toward Denna's quarters.

The halls he passed through, the rooms and stairways, were breathtakingly beautiful, and Richard again marveled at them as he passed. He wondered at how someone as vile as Darken Rahl would care to surround himself with such loveliness.

Nothing was one-dimensional. Two sides to the magic

Richard thought about the times the strange power had come awake in him. When he had felt sorry for Princess Violet, when the Queen's guard had tried to harm Denna, when he had felt the pain of what had been done to Denna, when he thought of Rahl hurting Kahlan, when Rahl's guards had tried to hurt Denna. He remembered that each time it had made part of his vision turn white.

Each time, he knew, it was the magic of the sword. But in the past the magic of the sword had been rage, too. Yet this was a different kind of rage. He thought of how he used to feel when he drew the sword in anger. The wrath, the fury, the want to kill.

The hate.

Richard stopped dead still in the center of the quiet hall. It was late and there were no people around. He was alone. He felt a wave of cold wash through him, — prickling his skin.

Two sides. He understood.

The spirits help him, he understood.

He brought it forth, let it cast everything in a white sheen.

–+-

Cradled numbly in the white haze of the magic, pearly in a trance, Richard pushed the door to Denna's quarters closed behind himself. He calmly held the power, held the whiteness of it, held the joy and the sorrow of it. The quiet room was lit by one lamp on the bedside table, giving the softly scented air a warm, flickering glow. Denna sat completely naked in the center of the bed. Her legs were crossed, her braid undone, and her hair brushed out. The Agiel was on a gold chain around her neck, hanging between her breasts. Her hands lay nested in her lap. She watched him with big, wistful eyes.

"You have come to kill me, my love?" she whispered.

He nodded slowly, watching her. "Yes, Mistress."

She smiled a little. "That is the first time you have ever called me simply `Mistress. You have always called me Mistress Denna, in the past. It means something?"

"Yes. It means everything, my mate. It means I forgive you everything." "I have made myself ready."