Soul of the Fire

Richard paused, hands on hips, puzzling down at the chicken. Black markings in the white and brown feathers gave it a striated, dizzying effect. The chicken squawked in complaint as Richard began moving forward, using his legs to shepherd the confused bird across the room.

Before it reached the drawing on the floor, it let out a squall, flapped its wings in renewed panic, and broke to the side, sprinting around the wall of the room and finally out the door. It was an astonishing display of an animal so terrified it was unable to flee in a straight line to a wide-open door and safety.

Cara shut the door behind it. "If there is an animal dumber than a chicken," she griped, "I've yet to see it."

"What's all the racket?" came a familiar voice.

It was Zedd, coming through the doorway to the back rooms. He was taller than Kahlan but not as tall as Richard:-about Cara's height, although his mass of wavy white hair sticking out in disarray lent an illusion of more height than was there. Heavy maroon robes with black sleeves and cowled shoulders fostered the impression that his sticklike frame was bulkier than it really was. Three rows of silver brocade circled the cuffs of his sleeves. Thicker gold brocade ran around the neck and down the front. A red satin belt set with a gold buckle gathered the outfit at his waist.

Zedd had always worn unassuming robes. For a wizard of his rank and authority, the fancy outfit was bizarre in the extreme. Flamboyant clothes marked one with the gift as an initiate. For one without the gift, such clothes befit nobility in some places, or a wealthy merchant just about anywhere, so although Zedd disliked the flashy accoutrements, they had been a valuable disguise.

Richard and his grandfather embraced joyously, both chortling with the pleasure of being together. It had been a long time.

"Zedd," Richard said, holding the other at arm's length, apparently even more disoriented by his grandfather's outfit than was Kahlan, "where did you ever get such clothes?"

With a thumb, Zedd tilted the gold buckle up to his scrutiny. His hazel eyes sparkled. "It's the gold buckle, isn't it. A bit too much?"

Ann lifted aside the heavy hide hanging over the doorway as she ducked under it. Short and broad, she wore an unadorned dark wool dress that marked her authority as the leader of the Sisters of the Light-sorceresses from the Old World, although she had created the illusion among them that she had been killed so as to have the freedom to pursue important matters. She looked as old as Zedd, though Kahlan knew her to be a great deal older.

"Zedd, quit preening," Ann said. "We have business."

Zedd shot her a scowl. Having seen such a scowl going in both directions, Kahlan wondered how the two of them had managed to travel together without more than verbal sparks. Kahlan had met Ann only the day before, but Richard held her in great regard, despite the circumstances under which he had come to know her.

Zedd took in Richard's outfit. "I must say, my boy, you're quite the sight, yourself."

Richard had been a woods guide, and had always worn simple clothes, so Zedd had never seen him in his new attire. He'd found most of his distant predecessor's outfit in the Wizard's Keep. Apparently, some wizards once wore more than simple robes, perhaps in forewarning.

The tops of Richard's black boots were wrapped with leather thongs pinned with silver emblems embossed with geometric designs, and covered black wool trousers. Over a black shirt was a black, open-sided tunic, decorated with symbols twisting along a wide gold band running all the way around its squared edges. His wide, multilayered leather belt cinched the magnificent tunic at his waist. The belt bore more of the silver emblems and carried a gold-worked pouch to each side. Hooked on the belt was a small, leather purse. At each wrist he wore a wide, leather-padded silver band bearing linked rings encompassing more of the strange symbols. His broad shoulders held the resplendent cape that appeared like nothing so much as spun gold.

Even without his sword, he looked at once noble and sinister. Regal, and deadly. He looked like a commander of kings. And like the embodiment of what the prophecies had named him: the bringer of death.

Under all that, Kahlan knew him to still possess the kind and generous heart he had as a woods guide. Rather than diminish all the rest, his simple sincerity only reinforced the veracity of it. -

His sinister appearance was both warranted and in many ways an illusion. While single-minded and fierce in opposition to their foes, Kahlan knew him to be profoundly gentle, understanding, and kind. She had never known a man more fair, or patient. She thought him the most rare person she had ever met.

Ann smiled broadly at Kahlan, touching her face much as a kindly grandmother might do with a beloved child. Kahlan felt heartwarming honesty in the gesture. Her eyes sparkling, Ann did the same to Richard.