Richard had explained that he had come to learn that some of the parts of the spells Darken Rahl had drawn to open the boxes of Orden were also parts of the dance with death, and he knew the symbols relating to the dance with death quite well.
In a way, that association made sense. Zedd had once told him that the power of Orden was the power of life itself. The dance with death, used with the Sword of Truth, was really about preserving life, and Orden was itself drawn from the power of life and centered around preserving it from the rampages of the Chainfire spell.
In a way, the Sword of Truth, the ability of a war wizard, and the power of Orden were all inextricably linked.
Those links brought to Richard’s mind First Wizard Baraccus, the man who had thousands of years before written a book,
Secrets of a War Wizard’s Power,
for Richard. That book was meant to help him in this quest. That book was still hidden in Tamarang, where Richard had stashed it when Six had held him prisoner for a brief time. Richard knew that Zedd had been headed there to see if he could get the spell drawn in the sacred caves removed from Richard. Since Richard’s gift had returned, his grandfather had obviously been successful.
Now that Richard was reconnected with his gift, he remembered every word of
The Book of Counted Shadows
. Nicci was convinced, and had convinced Richard, that the book he had memorized could only have been a false copy that could not be used to open the correct box of Orden.
She believed, however, that even being a false copy it very likely still contained all, or most all, of the elements necessary to open and use the correct box of Orden. To
make the version Richard had memorized a false copy would have required only a single sequence of necessary elements being out of order, but that didn’t mean that the elements themselves weren’t valid and therefore important and necessary.
To that end, Richard had recited the entire book for her. They had made note of every element from the book. If he learned how to create or draw each of those elements, then when they got their hands on the true copy of
The Book of Counted Shadows
, he would simply have to use those components that were actually necessary by rearranging them in the proper order as revealed by the true copy of the book.
For this reason, Nicci now knew what she needed to teach him. And Richard was farther along this path than she would have thought because he already understood many of the key elements involved. He already knew a vast array of the basic parts used in the spell-forms. He had, in fact, drawn them on his whole team and himself. The dance with death had already taught him the basics of those designs, making them by now seem almost intuitive to him.
Richard had discovered that drawing the spell-forms was in fact a natural extension of not just the symbols employed in the depiction of the dance with death, but how he fought with a blade, and how he carved statues. At their base, all of those seemingly different things had basic parts in common. All of them shared movement and flow.
For Richard it was astonishing to discover how it all fit together into a larger picture. As he drew the spell-forms Nicci was teaching him it didn’t feel awkward or difficult. It felt natural. He already knew the forms. He recognized in those forms not only the dance with death, but movements with a blade, both from fighting and from carving statues.
Nicci, too, was unique as a teacher because she understood not only how much Richard knew about his varied
abilities, but how he used his ability. She grasped, unlike anyone else, how he saw the use of magic. She recognized how different it was from the conventional wisdom and wasn’t in the least bit stymied by the way he viewed such things. If anything, it energized her.
She also comprehended his concept of the creative aspects of magic itself and so she didn’t try to correct what he did, but instead guided him to accomplishing what was needed. She didn’t just pile on things to memorize; she instead built on what he already knew and the way he saw things. Because she intuitively sensed what he already grasped on his own, in his own way, she didn’t waste time dwelling on lessons covering what he already understood, and instead helped him add things he needed, at the place he needed them, when he needed them.
Nicci strolled to the table. “How are you doing?”
Richard yawned. “I don’t know anymore. It’s all running together in my head.”
Nicci nodded absently as she read something in the book she was holding. “What you think is running together may mean that your interior mind is simply beginning to make associations and connections—organizing what you are adding to your knowledge.”
Richard sighed. “Could be.”
Nicci closed the book and tossed it on the table to the side. “There are some useful things in here. You should take a look.”
“I don’t think I can see straight to read any more right now.”
“Good,” she said. She gestured to the pen resting in a holder to the side. “Draw, then. You need to be able to draw those elements from the book you just finished. If the real
Book of Counted Shadows
has similar elements, you will be ahead of the game.”
Richard wanted to argue with her, to tell her that he was too tired, but then he thought about Kahlan. Weariness became irrelevant in that light. Besides, he had agreed that Nicci was going to teach him and he would not only do as she instructed but put his every effort into it.
She was a sorceress with invaluable knowledge, experience, and ability that Zedd had said amazed him. Even Verna had taken him aside and advised him to listen carefully to Nicci, that she was in many areas smarter than any of them. Richard knew that this was his only true opportunity to learn what he needed. He was not about to waste that opportunity.
He pulled a piece of paper close and then dunked the pen in the ink. He leaned close and started drawing spell-forms from a book laid open nearby.
One big problem they had not yet solved was the issue of sorcerer’s sand. According to
The Book of Counted Shadows
that he’d memorized, the spell-forms needed to open the correct box of Orden had to be drawn in sorcerer’s sand. Nicci had told him that even though the book he’d memorized was a false copy, the issue of needing to draw the spell-forms in sorcerer’s sand when the time came was true. What ever spells turned out to be the ones necessary simply wouldn’t work without it.
Richard had told her how when Darken Rahl had opened the box of Orden he had been sucked down into the underworld—along with all the sorcerer’s sand he’d used to draw the spells. Up in the Garden of Life there was no more of that precious commodity. There was only dirt left where the sorcerer’s sand had been.
Nicci looked up from another book she was thumbing through. “This has some information about the Temple of the Winds.”
Richard looked up. “Really?”
She nodded. “You know, the thing that baffles me about that is how you said you crossed the world of the dead to get to it.”
It had appeared during the lightning and Richard had crossed over on a road while it was visible.
“I’m sorry, Nicci, but I told you everything I know on the subject.”
“According to this, and to what you told me you learned from studying accounts in old books, the Temple of the Winds was sent to the underworld. Because it was banished for protection, it resides somewhere distant across that great void. The whole purpose is to make it far away and impossible to get to.”
“But it was right there when the conditions were right. I stepped right across into the temple.”
She nodded absently as she went back to reading and pacing. She finally stopped again, looking impatient.
“It still doesn’t make sense. It’s impossible to get from here to there across the world of the dead. Crossing the void of the underworld is something like crossing the ocean. It would be like walking to the shoreline and stepping onto an island that’s on the other side of the world without having to travel across the intervening ocean.”
“Maybe the Temple of the Winds isn’t really that far away in the underworld. Maybe it’s like the island isn’t really across the ocean, but just right there, close to the shoreline.”
Nicci shook her head. “Not according to this, and not according to the things you told me. Every reference says that to banish the temple to safety they sent it across the underworld—rather like sending it across the universe itself.”
“Lord Rahl,” Cara called from the doorway.
Richard yawned again. “What is it, Cara?”
“I have some people here with me who need to see you.”
As much as he would like a break, Richard didn’t want to stop. He needed to learn all of it if he was ever to get Kahlan back.
“It seems to be important,” Cara added when she saw him hesitating.
“All right, bring them in.”
Cara led a group of six people in pristine white robes into the room. In the somewhat dark library, the white-robed figures almost glowed like good spirits. They all came to a halt on the other side of the massive mahogany table. They looked to Richard more like people fearing they might be executed than like people who wanted to see him.
Richard looked from the six nervous people, five men and one woman, to Cara.
“These are some of the crypt staff,” she said.
“Crypt staff?”
“Yes, Lord Rahl. They take care of the tombs and such.”
Richard looked at their faces again. They all looked away from his gaze to stare at the floor as they remained silent.
“Yes, I remember seeing some of you when I first came back—when we had the battle down there with the Imperial Order soldiers.”
He couldn’t imagine the horrific mess that would have had to be cleaned up. He had ordered that the bodies of the Order soldiers be thrown over the side of the plateau. They had more important things to worry about than caring for the remains of murderers.
The people nodded.
“What is it you wish to tell me?”
Cara waved a hand to dissuade him from that notion. “Lord Rahl, they are all mute.”
Richard gestured with the pen in his hand as he leaned back in his chair. “All of you?”
The six people nodded together.
“Darken Rahl cut out the tongues of all the crypt staff so that they couldn’t speak ill of his dead father.”
Richard sighed at hearing such a terrible thing. “I’m sorry you were abused like that. If it makes you feel any better I share your feelings about the man.”
Cara smiled as she looked at her six charges. “I told them of your part in his death.”
The six smiled a little and nodded.
“So, what’s this about? Can you help me understand what you want me to know?” he asked the six.
One of them reached out and carefully placed a folded, pristinely white cloth on the table. The man slid it toward Richard.
As Richard reached for it, a drop of ink dripped from his pen onto the white cloth.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he set the pen aside.
He pulled the cloth closer. He looked up at the six. “So, what is it?”
When they made no attempt to explain, he glanced at Cara. She only shrugged. “They were insistent that you see it.”
One of them gestured with his hands held out flat, almost as if they were the pages of a book as it opened, then repeated the gesture.
“You want me to open it?”
All six nodded.
It didn’t really feel like it could contain anything at all, but Richard carefully started opening the folds of cloth back onto the table. Nicci, standing beside the six, leaned over the table watching.
When Richard laid back the final fold, there, in the center of the cloth, lay a single grain of white sand.
He looked up sharply. “Where did you get this?”
All six pointed down.
“Dear spirits,” Nicci whispered.
“What?” Cara asked, leaning over to look at the single grain of white sand sitting in the center of the cloth. “What is it?”
Richard glanced up at the Mord-Sith. “Sorcerer’s sand.”
The people were crypt staff, so that had to mean that they had found it down in the crypt somewhere. The sorcerer’s sand shone with prismatic light, but he was still somewhat astonished that they would have found a single grain of it.
He also wondered where they had come across it—and if there was more.
“Can you show me where you found this?”
All six nodded vigorously.
Richard carefully folded up the cloth back around the grain of sorcerer’s sand. He noticed as he did so that the place where the drop of ink had fallen had, because the cloth had been folded at the time, made two identical spots of ink on opposite ends of the cloth. When the cloth had been folded they had been together, touching, but when the cloth was opened the two spots were on opposite sides.
He stared at it a moment, thinking.
“Let’s go,” he finally said as he stuffed the cloth into his pocket. “Take me there.”
Richard stepped over the melted white stone and into Panis Rahl’s tomb. The crypt staff waited outside in the hallway. They had urged Richard to go in alone, first, wanting him to visit the tomb before they dared to enter. It was the tomb, after all, of his grandfather. These were people who had lived and died by the incomprehensible protocol of the previous Lord Rahl visiting his venerated ancestors.
Richard, though, reserved his reverence for those who deserved it. Panis Rahl had been a tyrant with ambitions of conquest little different from those of his son, Darken Rahl. Panis Rahl might not have managed to accomplish the level of evil his son had, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
In the war Panis Rahl had started against neighboring lands, Zedd, as a young man, had been the one called upon to lead free people against D’Haran aggression. In the end, Zedd, acting as First Wizard, had killed Panis Rahl and put up the boundaries that had for most of Richard’s life walled off D’Hara.
Even though many had eagerly supported Panis Rahl’s lust for conquest, Zedd had not wanted to kill all of the people of D’Hara. Many of them, after all, were also the victims of that tyranny; having been unfortunate enough to
be born under a tyrant was not a willful act on their part. So instead of killing all the D’Haran people, Zedd had put up the boundaries.
He said that, in the end, leaving them to suffer the consequences of their own actions was the worst punishment he could inflict upon them. It also gave them the chance to choose to change and make something of their lives. But with the boundaries, they would not be able to continue their aggression against others.
It would have worked, and Richard would still be living in peace back in Westland, had those boundaries not failed. Darken Rahl had helped them along in that deterioration by traveling through the underworld to get past them. Had the boundaries not come down, though, Richard would not have met Kahlan. Kahlan made his life worthwhile. She was his life.
Richard remembered years before, shortly after Darken Rahl had opened the box of Orden and been taken by its power, that one of the palace staff had come to tell Zedd that Panis Rahl’s crypt was melting. Zedd had told the man to use specific white stone to seal the tomb before the condition spread to the rest of the palace.
That stopgap of white stone sealing the entrance of the tomb had since mostly melted and the strange condition was beginning to damage the entire room. The walls were beginning to distort, causing the slabs of pink granite to be pushed out of their former flat plane. In the hallway outside, the joints between the ceiling and walls were coming apart from the deformation within the room. If it wasn’t stopped, it looked like it could continue to twist support walls until the structure of the palace eventually started falling in on itself.
Richard looked all around, taking appraisal of everything as he crossed the room. The light of fifty-seven torches reflected off his grandfather’s gold-enshrouded
coffin sitting on a pedestal, making it not only glow in the center of the cavernous room, but almost look as if it were floating above the white marble floor. Words were inscribed not only on the coffin, but into the granite walls all around the room.
“I hate pink,” Nicci murmured to herself as she peered around at the polished pink granite walls and vaulted ceiling.
“Any idea why the walls would be melting?” Richard asked Nicci as she walked slowly around the room, carefully inspecting everything.
“That is what really frightens me,” Nicci said.
“What do you mean?” Richard asked as he started reading the High D’Haran words cut into the granite walls.
“Verna told me that when I came to the palace, just before I was captured, I had been on my way down here with Ann. Verna said that I told her that I knew why the walls down here were melting.”
Richard looked back over his shoulder at her. “And so why are they melting?”
Nicci looked strangely confused and worried. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Don’t remember…what?”
“Why I was coming down here, or why the walls were melting. I asked Verna if she remembered anything I might have said, but she said that she didn’t.”
Richard lightly dragged a finger along his grandfather’s casket. “Chainfire.”
Nicci looked up, even more concerned. “Do you really think that’s the reason?”
“You don’t remember any of it?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t remember ever telling Verna that I knew the cause of the problem, but what’s worse is that I don’t remember ever knowing why the walls were melting. How could I forget something important like that?”
Richard stared into her troubled blue eyes for a moment. “I don’t think you could, if things were normal.”
“That can only mean that the damage from Chainfire is spreading beyond the original target of the spell.”
“It’s the contamination,” Richard said in a quiet voice.
“If that’s true, then that means that what ever is going on in here is connected to what we must do to reverse Chainfire. The contamination in the chimes is erasing memory to protect itself.”
Such a frightening concept gave Richard pause. He knew, though, that it made sense. Now he had to worry not only about how Jagang might be one step ahead of him, but about how the contamination with Chainfire might also be acting to defend itself from extermination.
It didn’t need to be sentient to react to preserve itself and continue its purpose. To the chimes, eliminating magic was a value, and the contamination they left in their wake was their method of accomplishing that value, so such self-defensive measures were probably integral, much as thorns were sometimes a bush or tree’s means of self-defense. Having thorns didn’t mean the tree was able to think of how to hurt anyone who came near; it was merely its integral means of protecting itself so that it could continue to exist.
“We have to reverse Chainfire or it’s only going to continue to grow worse,” Richard finally said to Nicci. “It won’t be long before we even forget why we have to reverse it. I must invoke the power of Orden to counter the spell before it’s too late.”
“We need the boxes of Orden to do that,” she reminded him.
“Well, Jagang has two, and the witch woman took the third. Somehow we need to get them back.”
“Since Six is doing Jagang’s bidding by attacking our troops down in the Old World, I think we must assume that she intends to give him the third box.”
Richard traced a finger along some of the lettering on Panis Rahl’s casket. “I think you’re right. It’s only a matter of time before Jagang has all three boxes, if he doesn’t already.”
“We have something they need, though,” Nicci said.
“We do? What?”
“The Garden of Life. Since translating
The Book of Life
I’ve come to see the Garden of Life in a different way. The book confirmed some of the conclusions I had previously come to, after the last time I saw the garden.
“I now understand the Garden of Life through the context of the magic of Orden. I’ve studied the position of the room, the amount of light, the angles in relation to various star charts and how the sun and moon traverse the place. I’ve also analyzed the area within the room where the spells relating to Orden had been invoked—their specific placement in relation to the other elements.”
Richard was intrigued. “You mean to say that you really think that the Garden of Life is necessary to open one of the boxes?”
“Yes. The Garden of Life was constructed specifically to provide the controlled conditions necessary to open one of the boxes of Orden.”
Richard had to run that through his mind a second time before he was sure that he’d heard her right. “You mean to say that Jagang must get into that room in order to open the correct box?”
Nicci shrugged. “Unless he wants to construct his own room just like it. That certainly isn’t out of the realm of possibility, but the elements all brought together in that room are very exacting. Re-creating it would be a complex undertaking.”
“But it would be possible for him to do such a thing?”
“He would need the original references from which the plans for the Garden of Life were derived. He would also
need the aid not only of sorceresses, but wizards. Lacking everything necessary to do it on his own, he would have to study the Garden of Life itself in order to know how to construct a new one. The only practical solution would be to duplicate what was already built here, since all that preliminary work has already been successfully carried out.”
“Well, if he could get into here to do that, he might as well use this one.”
Nicci leveled a look at him. “Exactly.”
Richard sighed with grasping just how far behind Jagang’s true motives they truly were. “No wonder he hasn’t been worried about opening the boxes before now. He needed to get here, first. Taking the People’s Palace has been part of his larger goal all along. He’s known all this time what he needed to do.”
“Seems that way,” she admitted.
Berdine stepped through the melted opening into the tomb. “Lord Rahl, there you are.”
Richard turned. “What is it?”
“I found this book,” she said, holding it up as she strode across the room, as if waving the book would explain everything. “It’s in High D’Haran. When I translated some of it and realized what it was, Verna told me to get it to you right away.”
Nicci took the book from Berdine when the Mord-Sith held it out to her. She opened the cover and started scanning the text.
“So, what is the book about?” Richard asked Berdine.
“It’s about Jillian’s people. Her ancestors from Caska, anyway.”
“The dreamcasters…” Nicci whispered to herself as she followed along in the book.
Richard frowned. “What?”
“Nicci’s right,” Berdine said. “It’s about how the people in Caska were able to cast dreams. Verna said to tell you that.”
“All right, thanks.”
“Well, I need to get back. There are some other books Verna needs to have translated. And don’t forget,” she said over her shoulder as she started away, “sometime I need to tell you the things I found out for you before—about Baraccus.”
Richard nodded to the Mord-Sith’s quick smile.
Nicci tucked the book under her arm. “Thanks, Berdine. As soon as we’re finished here, we’ll look into it.”
Richard watched Berdine leaving for a moment, then gestured to the inscriptions on the walls. “This all looks rather disturbing. Do you know the exact nature of the spells outlined here? A number of the elements look vaguely familiar.”
“They should,” Nicci answered cryptically. She pointed out one of the inscriptions on the far wall. “See there? It’s instructions from a father to a son on the process of going to the underworld and returning.”
“You mean, Panis Rahl wanted to pass these spells down to Darken Rahl, so they were chiseled in the walls of his tomb?”
“No,” Nicci said, shaking her head. “I believe that these spells have been passed down through the House of Rahl for countless generations—from each father to his gifted offspring who would become the next Lord Rahl. From each father to his son. They are, in a way, your birthright.”
Richard felt rather overwhelmed with the thought of it. “How old do you think they are? And why pass down spells on going to the underworld?”
“From the composition of these spells, my guess is that they have existed from the time Orden itself was created.” Nicci looked over out of the corner of her eye. “I believe that to use the power of Orden, these spells may be necessary.”
Richard rounded on her. “What?”
“Well, from what I read in the books that explained Or
den, like
The Book of Life,
and some of the books on Ordenic theory, I’ve come to believe that the purpose of such a requirement has to do with the problem of how Subtractive Magic was used in the ignition of a Chainfire event.”
“You mean the problem with memories being eliminated?”
Nicci nodded. “Why can’t the rest of us remember Kahlan? Why can’t she remember who she was? Why can’t we use our gift to heal people who have forgotten Kahlan, or heal Kahlan? Why can’t our gift restore those memories?”
Richard recognized Nicci, the instructor, asking her student to provide the answer on his own. Richard was more than familiar with the technique. Zedd had used it on Richard his whole life.
“Because those memories are gone. There is nothing to restore.”
“And how were they taken?” Nicci asked, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
Richard thought it was obvious. “Through Subtractive Magic.”
Nicci only stared at him, as if waiting for more.
Understanding dawned on him.
“Dear spirits,” he said in a whisper. “Subtractive Magic is the magic of the underworld.” He stepped closer to her. “Are you saying that in order to use the power of Orden, going to the underworld is necessary because those things that were taken with Subtractive Magic are only able to be recovered there?”
“If memories are to be rebuilt, there must be a kernel to grow them from. The memory you have of her is your memory, not Kahlan’s missing memory, not Zedd’s, not Cara’s—not anyone else’s. The substance of their missing memory is what is gone from this world. It no longer exists. Not here, anyway.”
Richard couldn’t even blink. “And that core of the memory taken from the minds of the victims of Chainfire was taken away by Subtractive Magic. So if it still exists at all, it only exists in the underworld.”
Nicci gestured around at the High D’Haran words cut into the granite walls and on the casket. “
The Book of Life,
which Darken Rahl had to have read to have put the boxes of Orden in play, says that part of the process of invoking Orden is going to the underworld.”
“But what memory would Darken Rahl have recovered when he traveled to the underworld?”
“Invoking Orden requires prescribed steps. Going to the underworld is one of the steps to be performed in the sequence of invoking Orden.” She gestured to the walls. “Those steps.”
“But those references say only that going to the underworld is required. Why don’t they lay out the purpose of the journey?”