Blood of the Fold

The frown returned. "Long? From here to there. That long. I am long enough. I have been there."

"I mean. . hours? Days? Weeks?"

She didn't seem to understand. "The other travelers never spoke of this."

"Then it must not take very long. Kolo never mentioned it, either." The journal could be frustrating at times because Kolo never explained what was, to his people, common knowledge. He hadn't been trying to teach, or pass on information.

"Kolo?"

Richard pointed at the bones. "I don't know his name. I call him Kolo."

The face stretched out of the well to look over the wall. "I do not remember seeing this."

"Well, he's dead. He didn't look like that before." Richard decided he better not explain who Kolo was or she might remember and be upset. He didn't need any emotion, he needed to get to Kahlan. "I'm in a hurry. I'd appreciate it if we could hurry."

"Step closer so I may determine if you can travel."

Richard moved up to the wall and stood still while the quicksilver hand came out to touch his forehead. He flinched back. It was warm. He had expected cold. He returned to the hand and let the palm glide over his forehead.

"You can travel," the sliph said, "You have both sides required. But you will die if you are like this."

"What do you mean, 'like this'?"

The quicksilver hand lowered beside him, pointing at the sword, but being careful not to get too close. "That object of magic is incompatible with life in the sliph. With that magic in me, any life also in me will be ended." "You mean I must leave it here?"

"If you wish to travel, you must, or you will die."

Richard was decidedly uneasy about leaving the Sword of Truth unguarded, especially after learning of the men with families who had died to make it. He pulled the baldric off over his head and stared at the scabbard in his hands. He looked over his shoulder at the mriswith watching him. He could ask his mriswith friend to guard the sword.

No. He could ask no one to take the responsibility of guarding something so dangerous and coveted. The Sword of Truth was his responsibility, not anyone else's.

Richard drew the sword from the scabbard, letting the clear ring of its steel reverberate around the room, die out slowly. The rage of the magic didn't die out, though; it thundered through him.

He held up the blade, looking down its length. He could feel the raised gold wire of the word TRUTH biting into his palm. What was he to do? He needed to go to Kahlan. He needed to have the sword be safe in his absence.

It came to him through the call of need.

He turned the sword down, gripping the hilt in both hands. With a grunt of effort powered by the magic, by the storms of fury it engendered, he thrust the sword downward.

Sparks and stone chips flew as Richard drove the sword up to its hilt into a huge stone block of the floor. When he took his hands away, he could still feel the magic within him. He had to leave the sword, but he still had the magic; he was the true Seeker.

"I'm still linked to the sword's magic. I retain the magic within me. Will that kill me?"

"No. Only that which engenders the magic is deadly, not that which receives it."

Richard climbed up on the stone wall, suddenly beginning to worry about this. No, he had to do it. He needed to.

"Skin brother." Richard turned to the mriswith when it called to him. "You are without a weapon. Take this." It tossed one of its three-bladed knives up to Richard. As it arced gently through the air, Richard caught it by the handle. The side guards lay against each side of his wrist as he grasped the weapon's crossways handgrip in his fist. It felt surprisingly good in his hand, like an extension of his arm.

"The yabree will sing to you, soon."

Richard nodded. "Thank you."

The mriswith returned a slow smile.

Richard turned to the sliph. "I don't know if I can hold my breath long enough."

"I told you, I am long enough to reach where we travel."

"No, I mean I need air." He made a display of inhaling and exhaling. "I need to breathe."

"You breathe me."

He listened to her voice echo around the room. "What?"

"To live when you travel, you must breathe me. The first time you travel, you will be afraid, but you must do this. Those who do not, die in me. Do not be afraid; I will keep you alive when you breathe me. When we reach the other place, you must then breathe me out, and breathe in the air. You will be just as afraid to do that as you will be to breathe me, but you must do it or you will die."

Richard stared incredulously. Breathe this quicksilver? Could he bring himself to do such a thing?

He had to get to Kahlan. She was in danger. He had to do this. He needed to do this.

Richard swallowed, and then took a deep, sweet breath. "All right, I'm ready logo. What do I do?"

"You do not do. I do."

A liquid silver arm came up and slipped around him, its warm, undulating grip compressing to grasp him. The arm lifted him off the wall and plunged him down into the silver froth.