d  cleared his throat. "But  that's just a guess, Warren. I could be
wrong. General Leiden is an experienced man, and no fool. I could be wrong."
     "But so could  Leiden  be  wrong. I  guess that  puts you  with General
Reibisch. He's been pacing his tent every night for the last two months."
     Zedd  shrugged.  "Is  there  something important  to you, Warren,  that
hinges  on what the Imperial Order does? Are you waiting for them to make up
your mind for you about something?"
     Warren held  up  his hands as if to  ward the very notion.  "No-no,  of
course not. It's just that . . . it's just that it would be a bad time to be
thinking about  such  things,  is all .... But if they were going to lie low
for the winter . . ." Warren  fussed with  his  sleeve. "That's all I  meant
.... If you  thought they were going  to wait until spring, or something . .
." His voice trailed off.
     "And if they were, then-?"
     Warren stared at the ground  while he twisted his robes at his  stomach
into a purple knot.  "If you think they might  decide  to  move this winter,
then it wouldn't be right for me-for us-to be thinking about such things."
     Zedd scratched his chin and changed his approach. "Let's  say I believe
the Order is going to sit  tight for the winter. Then what  might you do, in
that case?"
     Warren threw his hands up. "Zedd will you marry Verna and me?"

     Zedd's brow went up as he drew back his head. "Bags, my  boy,  that's a
mouthful to swallow first thing in the morning."
     Warren took two big strides closer. "Will you Zedd? I mean, only if you
really  think the  Order  is  going to sit down  there in  Anderith for  the
winter. If  they are,  then,  well, then  it would be, I mean,  we might  as
well-"
     "Do you love Verna, Warren?"
     "Of course I do!"
     "And does Verna love you?"
     "Well, of course she does."
     Zedd shrugged. "Then I'll marry the both of you."
     "You will? Oh, Zedd, that would  be wonderful." Warren turned, reaching
one  hand toward  the  tent's opening, lifting his  other  back toward Zedd.
"Wait. Wait there a moment."
     "Well, I was about to flap my arms and fly to the moon, but if you want
me to wait-"
     Warren was already out the tent.  Zedd heard muffled voices coming from
outside. Warren came back in-right on Verna's heels.
     Verna  beamed  from ear to ear,  which Zedd found unsettling in its own
way, being so unusual.
     "Thank you  for offering to marry  us, Zedd. Thank  you!  Warren and  I
wanted you to do the ceremony. I told him you would do it, but Warren wanted
to ask you and give you a chance to say  no. I can't  think of anything more
meaningful than being wedded by the First Wizard."
     Zedd  thought she was a lovely  woman.  A little fussy  about rules and
such, at times, but well intentioned. She worked hard.  She didn't shy  from
some of the things Zedd had  asked of her. And, she obviously held Warren in
warm regard, as well as respecting him.
     "When?" Verna asked. "When do you think would be an appropriate time?"
     Zedd screwed up his face. "Do you two think you can wait until I've had
a proper breakfast?"
     They both grinned.
     "We were thinking more along the  lines of  an evening  wedding," Verna
said. "Maybe we could have a party, with music and dancing."
     Warren gestured  nonchalantly. "We were  thinking  something to make  a
pleasant break in all the training."
     "A  break? How much time do you two think you will be needing away from
your duties-"
     "Oh, no, Zedd!" Warren had gone as purple as his robes. "We didn't mean
we would-I mean we would still be doing-we would only like-"
     "We don't want any  time  away, Zedd," Verna  put in, bringing Warren's
bashful babbling to an end. "We just thought it would be a  nice opportunity
for everyone to have a well-earned party for an evening. We won't be leaving
our posts."
     Zedd put a bony arm around Verna's shoulders. "You two can have all the
time away you want. We all understand. I'm happy for you both."
     "That's great, Zedd," Warren said with a sigh. "We really-"
     A red-faced officer burst  into the tent without  so much as announcing
himself. "Wizard Zorander!"
     Two Sisters charged in right behind him.
     "Prelate!" Sister Philippa called.

     "They're coming!" Sister Phoebe cried.
     Both  women  were white-faced and  looked  to be on the verge of losing
their breakfast. Sister Phoebe  was trembling like a wet dog in winter. Zedd
then saw that Sister Philippa's hair was singed on one side and the shoulder
of her dress was blackened. She had been one  of  those on far watch for the
enemy gifted.
     Now Zedd knew what the  whistling  sound  he thought he'd heard was. It
was very distant screams.
     Rolling up  from the distance came the note of  the secondary  waypoint
alarm  horns. Zedd felt the faint tingle of magic woven through them,  so he
knew they were genuine. Outside the tent, the muted sounds of camp life rose
into  a din of  activity.  Weapons were being  yanked from  where  they were
stacked, fires hissed  as  they were dowsed, swords  were being strapped on,
others were being drawn, horses whinnied at the sudden racket.
     Warren  seized Sister  Philippa's arm and started  issuing orders. "Get
the line  coordinated. Don't  let them be seen-keep behind the  third ridge.
Set the trips close-we need to give the enemy confidence. Cavalry?"
     The woman nodded.
     "Coming  in two wings," the officer put  in. "But they  aren't charging
yet-they don't want to get out too far ahead of their foot soldiers."
     "Start  the  first fire behind them-once they're past  the blast  point
just like
     we've drilled," Warren told Sister Philippa as she nodded heedfully  to
his instructions. The intention was to trap any cavalry charge between walls
of violent magic. It had to be focused properly to have any hope of piercing
the enemy's shields.
     "Prelate,"  Sister Phoebe said, still panting,  "you can't imagine  the
numbers. Dear Creator,  it  looks like the ground is  moving, like the hills
are melting men toward us."
     Verna  put a comforting  hand to  the young Sister's shoulder. "I know,
Phoebe. I know. But we all know what to do."
     Verna  was  already ushering the two Sisters out  and  calling  for her
other aides, as yet more officers and returning scouts leaped from horses.
     A big, bearded soldier, sweat  running down  his  face, barged into the
tent gasping for his breath.
     "The whole blasted force. All of 'em."
     "Cavalry  with lances-enough to break their way and then some," another
man shouted  into the tent  from atop a  lathered  horse,  pausing only long
enough to deliver the news to Zedd before charging off.
     "Archers?" Zedd asked the two soldiers still in his tent.
     The officer with the beard shook his head. "Too far to tell." He gulped
air. "But I'd bet my life they're right behind the pikemen's shields."
     "No  doubt," Zedd  said. "When  they  get  close enough,  they'll  show
themselves."
     Warren grabbed the bearded officer's sleeve and pulled him along behind
as he trotted out of the tent. "Don't worry, when they show themselves we'll
have something to put out their eyes."
     The other man ran  on to his duties.  In an instant, Zedd was  standing
alone in his tent, lit  from the outside by early-morning winter sun. It was
a cold dawn. It would be a bloody day.
     Outside  the  tent, the racket  exploded into the uproar  of  practiced
pandemonium.  Everyone  had a job,  and  knew  it  well;  these were  mostly
battle-tested  D'Harans.  Zedd had snuck close and had seen how fearsome the
Imperial Order troops looked,

     but the D'Harans were their match in gristle. For generations, D'Harans
prided themselves on being  the  fiercest  fighters in existence. For a good
part of his  life,  Zedd had  battled D'Harans who had proven  their  boasts
true.
     Zedd could  heir someone  shouting, "Move, move, move." It sounded like
General Reibisch. Zedd dashed to the tent's opening, pausing at the brink of
a river of men flowing past in a great churning mass.
     General Reibisch skidded to a halt just outside the tent.
     "Zedd-we were right."
     Zedd nodded his disappointment to have surmised the enemy's plans. This
was one time he wished he'd been wrong.
     "We're breaking camp," General Reibisch  said. "We've  not  much  time.
I've already  ordered  the advance guard to shift their  positions north  to
cover the supply wagons."
     "Is it all of them-or just a jab to test us?"
     "It's the whole bloody lot."
     "Dear  spirits," Zedd whispered.  At least he had  made what plans  for
this eventuality as could be made.  He had trained the gifted to expect this
so they wouldn't be thrown off balance. It would come just as Zedd told them
it would;  that would aid their confidence  and give them courage.  The  day
hinged on the gifted.
     General Reibisch swiped his meaty  hand across his mouth  and jaw as he
looked to the south, toward an enemy he couldn't yet see. The early sun made
his rustcolored hair look red, and the scar that ran from his left temple to
his jaw stand out like a streak of frozen white lightning.
     "Our sentries  pulled  back along with the outer lines. No use  in them
standing ground, since it's the whole Imperial Order."
     Zedd quickly nodded  his agreement. "We'll be the  magic  against magic
for you, General."
     The man had a lusty glint in his  grayish-green eye.  "We're  the steel
for you, Zedd. We'll show them bastards a lot of both today."
     "Just don't show them too much, too soon," Zedd warned.
     "I'm not about to change  our plans now," he said over the sound of the
tumult.
     "Good." Zedd snatched  the arm of a  soldier running past. "You. I need
your help. Pack up my things in  there for me, would you, lad? I need to get
to the Sisters."
     General Reibisch gestured the young soldier  into Zedd's  tent, and the
young man leaped to the task.
     "The scouts said they're  all staying on  this side of  the Drun River,
just as we hoped."
     "Good. We won't have to worry about them flanking us, at least not from
the west." Zedd swept  his gaze over the dissolving  camp as the men swiftly
set about their jobs. He looked back to the general's  weathered face. "Just
get our men  north into those valleys in time, General,  so that we can't be
surrounded. The gifted will cover your tails."
     "We'll plug up the valleys, don't you worry."
     "The river isn't frozen over, yet, is it?"
     General  Reibisch shook his head. "Maybe enough  for a rat to skate on,
but not the wolf that's after him."
     "That should keep them from crossing." Zedd  squinted off to the south.
"I have to go check  on Adie  and her Sisters. May the good spirits be  with
you, General. They won't need to watch your back-we'll do that."

     General  Reibisch caught  Zedd's arm.  "There's more  than  we thought,
Zedd. Twice the number at least. If my scouts weren't just stuttering, there
may be  three  times  the number.  Think you can  slow  that many down while
keeping them focused on trying to sink their teeth into my backside?"
     The plan was to draw the enemy north  while  staying just  out of their
reach--close  enough to make them salivate but not close enough  to let them
get  a good  bite.  Crossing  the  river  at  this  time  of  year would  be
impractical for an army that size. With the river on one side, and mountains
on the other,  a  force the size of the  Imperial Order  couldn't  so easily
surround and overwhelm the "D'Haran Empire" troops, who were outnumbered ten
or twenty to one.
     The plan, too, was designed to keep  in mind Richard's admonition about
not attacking  directly into the Order. Zedd wasn't sure about  the validity
of Richard's warning, but knew better than to so openly tempt ruin.
     Hopefully,  once  they  enticed the enemy into  that  tighter  terrain,
terrain more  defensible,  the Order  would lose some of their advantage and
their advance  could  be  halted. Once the  Imperial Order  was stalled, the
D'Harans could begin working the enemy down  to size.  The D'Harans  thought
nothing of  being outnumbered; it  just  gave them  a  better opportunity to
prove themselves.
     Zedd  stared  off,  imagining the  hillsides darkened  with  the  enemy
pouring forth. He was already seeing the lethal powers he would unleash.
     He knew, too, that in battle things rarely went as planned.
     "Don't you worry, General,  today the  Imperial Order is going to begin
paying a terrible price for its aggression."
     The  grinning  general clapped Zedd on the side of the shoulder.  "Good
man."
     General Reibisch  charged off,  calling for his aides  and  his  horse,
collecting a growing crowd of men around him as he went.
     It had begun.

        Chapter 30

     Arms resting on his thighs, Richard crouched in the belly of the beast.
     "Well?" Nicci asked from atop her horse.
     Richard stood  beside a  rib bone that towered  to  well over twice his
height.  He  shielded  his eyes against  the golden  sunlight as he  briefly
scanned the empty horizon  behind himself. He looked back at Nicci, her hair
honeyed by the low sun.
     "I'd say it was a dragon."
     When her mare began to  dance sideways, trying to put distance  between
itself and the expanse of bones, Nicci took the slack out of the reins.
     "Dragon," she repeated in a flat voice.
     Here and there dried scraps of meat stuck to the bones. Richard swished
a hand  at the cloud of flies buzzing around him. The faint stench of  decay
hung  over  the site.  As he stepped  out  of  the  cage  of giant rib bones
standing  belly-up, he gestured toward  the head, nestled in a bed  of brown
grass. There  was enough room to walk between the ribs without them touching
his shoulders.
     "I recognize the teeth. I had a dragon's tooth, once."
     Nicci looked skeptical.  "Well, whatever it is, if you've  seen enough,
let's be on our way."
     Richard brushed his hands clean.  The stallion snorted and stepped away
from him when he approached. The horse  didn't like the smell of death,  and
didn't trust  Richard after having been near  it. Richard stroked the glossy
black neck.
     "Steady, Boy," he said in a comforting voice. "Easy now."
     When she  saw Richard  finally mount  up, Nicci turned her dappled mare
and  started  off once  more.  The  late-afternoon  light  cast long, clawed
shadows of the rib bones toward him, as if reaching out, calling him back to
the ghost  of some terrible end. He glanced back over  his  shoulder  at the
length  of the skeletal remains, stretched out in  the middle  of  an empty,
gently rolling grassland, before urging his stallion into a trot to catch up
with Nicci. His horse needed little encouragement to be away  from the dying
place, and happily sprang into his easy loping gallop, instead.
     In  the month or  so Richard had  spent with the horse, the two of them
had become  used to  each other. The horse  was  willing enough,  but  never
really friendly. Richard wasn't  interested  enough  to go to the effort  of
doing more; making friends  with a  horse  was  just about  the last of  his
concerns.  Nicci hadn't  known if  the  horses had names,  and  didn't. seem
interested in naming animals,  so  Richard simply called the black  stallion
"Boy," and  Nicci's dappled gray  mare "Girl," and  left it  at that.  Nicci
seemed neither pleased or displeased about him naming the horses; she simply
went along with his convention.

     "Do  you actually  believe  it's the remains of a dragon?" Nicci  asked
when he caught up with her.
     The stallion slowed and, glad to be back  in the  herd, gave the mare's
flanks  a  nuzzle.  Girl  merely  turned  her  closest  ear  toward  him  in
recognition.
     "It's about the right size, as I remember."
     Nicci tossed her head to flick her hair back over her shoulder. "You're
serious, aren't you?"
     Richard  frowned  his  puzzlement.  "You  saw  it. What  else could  it
possibly be?"
     She conceded with  a  sigh. "I just thought  it  was the  bones of some
long-extinct beast."
     "With flies still buzzing around it? It still had  a few bits of  sinew
dried  to the bones.  It's not some ancient thing. It couldn't be much older
than six monthspossibly much less."
     She  was  watching him  from  the  corner of her eye,  again. "So, they
really do have dragons in the New World?"
     "In the Midlands, anyway. Where I grew up there were  none. Dragons, as
I understand it, have magic. There was  no magic  in  Westland. When  I came
here I . . . saw a red dragon. From what 1 heard, they're very rare."
     And now there was at least one less.
     Nicci was little concerned about the remains of  an  animal, even if it
was a  dragon. Richard had  long ago decided that,  as much as  he lusted to
crush her skull, he would have a better chance of figuring a way out  of his
situation if he  didn't antagonize her.  Battling another person sapped your
own  strength,  making  it more difficult  to  reason your way  out  of  the
trouble. He kept his mind focused on what was most important to him.
     He couldn't force himself to pretend to befriend Nicci, but he tried to
give her no cause to become angry enough to hurt Kahlan. So far, it had been
successful. Nicci  didn't  seem easily inclined to  anger, anyway.  When she
became displeased, she submerged  back into an  indifference which seemed to
smother her distant rancor.
     They finally reached  the road  from where  they had spotted  the white
speck that had turned out to be the remains of the dragon.
     "What was it like growing up in a place with no magic?"
     Richard shrugged.  "I don't know.  That's just  the way it  was. It was
normal."
     "And you were happy? Growing up without magic, I mean?"
     "Yes. Very happy." The frown returned to his face. "Why?"
     "And yet, you fight to keep magic  in the world, so other children will
have to grow up with it. Am I right?"
     "Yes."
     "The Order wishes to rid the world of magic, so that people can grow up
happy,  without the poisonous fog of  magic always outside their  door." She
glanced over at him. "They  want children to grow up much  like you did. And
yet you fight this."
     It  was  not  a question, so Richard chose not to turn it into  one for
her. What the Order chose  to do was not his concern. He turned his thoughts
to other things.
     They  were traveling  east-southeast on  a  road traversed  by the  odd
trader. They had smiled and nodded at two that day. The road, as it took the
easiest route across the rolling hills,  had  that afternoon begun  to  turn
more to the south. As they crested a rise, Richard spotted  a flock of sheep
in the far distance. Not far ahead, they had

     been told, was a  town where they could pick up some needed provisions.
The horses could use some grain, too.
     Over his left shoulder, to the northeast,  snowcapped mountains turning
pink in  the late sunlight  rose up out of the  foothills. To his right, the
ground rolled off into the wilds. Beyond the  town, it  wouldn't be  too far
until they crossed the Kern River.  They were not far at all from what  used
to be the wasteland where the great barrier had stood.
     They were close to cutting south into the Old World.
     Even though  there was no longer a barrier  to prevent his  return once
they crossed over, he felt  downhearted about leaving the  New World. It was
like  leaving  Kahlan's  world.  Like  leaving her by one  more  degree.  As
fiercely  as he  loved her, he could  feel  her slipping farther and farther
into the distance.
     Nicci's blond hair fluttered in the  breeze  as she turned toward  him.
"It's said they used to have dragons in the Old World, too."
     Richard brought himself out of his brooding.
     "But no more?" he asked. She shook her head. "How long ago was that?"
     "Long ago. No one living  has ever  seen  one-and that includes Sisters
living at the palace."
     He thought about  it  as he  rode,  listening to the  rhythmic clop  of
hooves. Nicci had proven forthcoming, so he asked, "Do you know why not?"
     "I can only  tell you what was taught to me,  if you would like to hear
it." When Richard nodded, she  went  on. "During the great war, at  the time
when the barrier between  the Old  and New Worlds was raised, the wizards in
the Old World worked toward revoking magic from the world. Dragons could not
exist without magic, so they went extinct."
     "But they still existed here."
     "On the other side  of  the barrier.  It  may be  that the old wizards'
suppression  of  magic, on their side, had  only a local, or even temporary,
effect. After  all, magic still exists, so obviously  they failed to achieve
their ends."
     Richard was  getting an uneasy feeling  as  he  considered both Nicci's
words and the bones he had seen.
     "Nicci, may I ask you a question, a serious question, about magic?"
     She gazed over at him as she slowed her horse to an easy walk. "What is
it you wish to know?"
     "How long do you think a dragon could exist without magic?"
     Nicci  considered his question  for a moment, but in the end  let out a
sigh.  "I only know about the history  of the dragons in the Old World as it
was  taught. As  you  know,  words  written that  long  ago  are  not always
dependable. It would only be an educated guess. I would say it could be mere
moments, possibly days-or even  longer, but not a great  deal longer. It's a
much simplified  version of asking how long a fish could live out  of water.
Why do you ask?"
     Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. "When  the chimes were
here, in this world, they drew away magic. All of  the magic, or nearly all,
anyway, was withdrawn from the world of life for a time."
     She turned  her  eyes back to the  road.  "My estimation  is  that  the
withdrawal was total, for a time, at least."
     That  was what he had feared.  Richard considered  her words along with
what he knew. "Not all  creatures of magic depend on it. Us, for example; we
are, in a way,

     creatures of  magic, but we can live without it, too. I'm  wondering if
creatures that depended  on magic for their very  existence  might not  have
made it through until the chimes were banished and magic was restored to the
world of life."
     "Magic was not restored."
     Richard pulled his horse up short. "What?"
     "Not in  the  way  you  are thinking about it." Nicci circled around to
face him.  "Richard, while  I  have  no direct knowledge with precisely what
happened, such an event could not be without consequence."
     "Tell me what you know."
     She frowned in curiosity. "Why do you look so concerned?"
     "Nicci, please, just tell me what you know?"
     She folded her wrists over the horn of her saddle.
     "Richard, magic is a complex matter, so there can be no certainty." She
held up a hand to forestall his cascade of questions. "This much, though, is
certain. The world doesn't stay the same. It changes continuously.
     "Magic is not merely part of  this world. Magic is  the conduit between
worlds. Do you understand?"
     He thought  he  might. "I  accidentally used  magic to call  forth  the
spirit  of  my father  from  the  underworld.  I  banished  him back to  the
underworld with the use of magic. The Mud People, for  example, use magic to
communicate with their spirit ancestors beyond the veil in the underworld. I
had to go to the Temple of the Winds, in another  world, when  Jagang sent a
Sister there to start a plague which she brought back from that world."
     "And what do all of those things have in common?"
     "They used magic to bridge the gap between worlds."
     "Yes. But there is more. Those worlds exist, but they are dependent  on
this one to define them, are they not?"
     "You mean, like life is created into this world, and after death, souls
are taken by the Keeper to the underworld?"
     "Yes. But more, do you see the connection?"
     Richard  was getting  lost. He hadn't grown up knowing  anything  about
magic. "We're caught between the two realms?"
     "No, not  exactly."  Her blue eyes flashed with  intensity. She  waited
until his gaze  steadied  on  hers, then she held up a  finger to  mark  the
importance of her words.
     "Magic is a  conduit between worlds. As magic  diminishes,  those other
worlds  are not just more distant to us, but the  power of  those worlds, in
this world, diminishes. Do you see?"
     Richard was  getting goose bumps. "You mean, the other worlds have less
influence, like . . . like a child who has  grown and his parents  have less
influence over him. "
     "Yes."  In the fading light  her eyes seemed more blue than  usual. "As
the  worlds  grow  more separate,  it is  something like a child growing and
leaving home. But there is more to it, yet."
     She leaned  forward  ever so slightly in her  saddle. "You  see,  those
other worlds can be said to exist only by their relationship to life-to this
world." At that moment, she seemed like  nothing  to him so much as what she
really was: a onehundred-and-eighty-year-old  sorceress.  "It might  even be
said,"  she whispered in  a  voice that sounded like  the  shadows speaking,
"that without magic to link those  other worlds to  this, those other worlds
cease to exist."

     Richard swallowed. "You mean, just as the child grows  and leaves home,
the  parents become  less important  to his  existence. When they eventually
grow old  and die, even though they were once  vital and  strongly linked to
him, when they now cease to exist, he lives on without them."
     "Exactly," she hissed.
     "The world changes," he said almost to himself. "The world doesn't stay
the same. That's what Jagang wants. He wants magic, and those other  worlds,
to cease to exist so that he will have this one all for himself."
     "No," she said in a soft voice. "He  wishes it not for himself, but for
mankind." Richard started to argue, but she cut him off. "I know Jagang. I'm
telling you  what he believes. He may enjoy the spoils, but in his heart, he
believes he is doing this for mankind, not himself."
     Richard  didn't really  believe her, but  he  didn't see  any  point in
quarreling with her. Either  way, because of the  changes taking place, such
creatures as  dragons  might  have already become extinct. Those white bones
could very well have been the remains of the last red dragon.
     "Because  of  events like  the  chimes,  the  world  may  already  have
irrevocably changed to a point where creatures of magic have died  out," she
said as she stared out over the  empty  twilight. "In an evolving world such
as  I describe, magic, even such as ours,  would soon  die out, too. Do  you
see,  now? Without that conduit to other  worlds, worlds that may no  longer
exist, magic would not come  into existence when offspring of the gifted are
born."
     One  thing  was sure: when  the time came,  he was  going to make Nicci
extinct.
     As they rode on, Richard gazed back over his shoulder at bones he could
no longer see.
     --]----
     It  was well after  dark when  they  rode into  the  town. When Richard
inquired of a passerby, he was  told that  the town, Ripply, was named after
the rippling  foothills.  It  was a quiet place, off  in  a nearly forgotten
corner of the Midlands, its back to what used to be the wasteland from where
no one  ever returned. Many of  the  people grew  wheat and raised sheep  to
provide themselves with trade goods, while keeping small animals and gardens
for themselves.
     There was a road coming in from the southwest, from Renwold,  and other
roads  going off to the north. Ripply  was  a  crossroads for  trade between
Renwold,  the  people of  the wilds  who traded  at that  outpost  city, and
villages  to the  north  and  east.  Now,  of course, Renwold  was gone; the
Imperial Order had sacked the city.  Now,  with only  ghosts  inhabiting the
streets of Renwold, the people of  the wilds  who traded  their  goods there
would  suffer.  The people from  the towns and villages  who came  to Ripply
would suffer, too; Ripply was falling on hard times.
     Richard  and  Nicci  created  a  small  sensation.  Strangers traveling
through had become a sporadic event, what with Renwold gone. The two of them
were tired, and there was  an inn, but raucous drinking was going on  there,
and Richard didn't want to have to deal with that kind of trouble. There was
a well-kept stable at  the other end of  town from the inn, and the man  who
owned it offered to  let them stay  in the hayloft for a silver penny  each.
The night was cold, and it would be warmer in the  hayloft out of  the wind,
so Richard paid the man the penny  each  for  themselves, and three more for
the horses to be cared for and fed. The taciturn stable owner was so

     pleased with  the  extra penny for the horses  that he told  Richard he
would tend their shoes while he had them.
     When Richard thanked him and told him they were tired,  the man  smiled
for the  first time and said,  "I'll be seeing to your  horses, then. I hope
you and your wife sleep well. Good night, then."
     Richard  followed Nicci up the rough wooden  ladder at the back  of the
barn. They  had a cold dinner sitting  in the hay  as they listened  to  the
stable owner fetching grain  and water for  their horses. Richard  and Nicci
had  only  the  bare  bones  of  necessary  conversation before they  rolled
themselves up  in their cloaks and went to sleep. When they  woke  a  little
after dawn,  they discovered  a  small  gathering  of  skinny  children  and
hollow-cheeked  adults,  come to see the  "rich"  folks  traveling  through.
Apparently, their horses, better than any that  had boarded at the stable in
a long time, had been the source of gossip and speculation.
     When Richard greeted the people, he got back only vacant looks. When he
and  Nicci  walked to  the supply store,  not  far  away  past  a  few  drab
buildings, the people all followed, as if it  were a king and queen  come to
town,  and they all wanted to see what  such highborn  people did with their
day. Goats and chickens wandering Ripply's main street scattered  before the
procession. A milk cow  cropping  brown grass behind the leather shop paused
for a look. A rooster atop a stump flapped his wings in annoyance.
     When the bolder children asked who they were, Nicci told them that they
were only  travelers, husband and wife,  looking  for  work.  Such  news was
greeted with  skeptical tittering. In her fine black dress,  the people took
Nicci for a queen looking  for a kingdom. They thought only a little less of
Richard.
     When  an  older boy  asked where they were going to  look for  work, as
there was little to be found in Ripply, Nicci told them that they were going
to the Old World. Some of  the adults snatched up children and hurried away.
Yet more remained close on Richard and Nicci's heels.
     An older man  who owned  the supply store gently shooed the people away
from his door when Richard went in. Once Richard had gone inside, he watched
the  people  grow  bolder and begin pawing at Nicci, begging for  money, for
medicine, for food. Nicci stayed outside with the  people, asking them about
their  troubles and their needs. She moved through the crowd, inspecting the
children. She had that blank look on her face that Richard didn't like.
     "What can I get you," the proprietor asked.
     "Ah, what about those people?" Richard asked instead.
     He glanced out the sparkling-clean little window to  see Nicci standing
in the  middle  of the  ragged  group, talking  about the Creator's love for
them. They all listened as if she were a good spirit come to comfort them.
     "Well, they're all sorts," the shop owner said. "Most  wandered in from
the   Old  World  after  the  barrier  came  down.  Some  are  just  no-good
locals-drunks  and such-who'd  just as  soon  beg  or  steal as  work.  When
strangers from the  Old World came in, some of the people here  joined their
ways. We get traders through here, and men like that, with goods to protect,
find they have less trouble if they're generous with that sort. Some of them
out there are folks who've had trouble-widows with children who can't find a
husband; things like that. A few of them will work for me, when I have work,
but most won't."
     Richard was about to give  the  man a  list of their  needs, when Nicci
glided in the door.

     "Richard, 1 need some money."
     Rather than argue with her, he passed her the saddlebag with the money.
She reached in and pulled out a handful of gold and silver. The shop owner's
eyes went wide when he saw how much  she  had  in  her fist. She paid him no
heed. Richard  stood  slack jawed as he watched  Nicci,  back out  with  the
crowd, giving  away  all the money.  Arms  waved and reached for her. People
cried out all the louder. A few ran off with what she had given them.
     Richard pulled open the saddlebag, peering in to see  how much they had
left. It wasn't much. He  could hardly believe what  Nicci had just done. It
made no sense.
     "How  about some  barley flour,  some  oatmeal, some  rice, some bacon,
lentils, dried biscuits, and salt?" he asked the waiting proprietor.
     "No oatmeal, but I've got the rest. How much do you want?"
     Richard  was  running calculations  through his head. They  had  a long
journey,  and Nicci had just given away most of their  money. They'd used up
the better portion of the supplies they had.
     He laid  six  silver pennies on  the counter. "Just what that  will buy
us." He pulled his  pack  off  his back and set it on the counter beside the
money.
     The  man scooped up the coins  and  sighed at the  money he had  almost
made. He began pulling the  items down from a shelf  and placing them in the
pack. As he worked, Richard requested a few other small things he remembered
as the man was going about getting the order. He parted with another penny.
     Richard had only a  few silver pennies, two silver crowns, and no  gold
left.  Nicci had handed out more money  than  most of those people  had ever
seen in their entire lifetimes. Worried about what they were going to do for
supplies in the future, Richard slung his pack onto  his back when  the shop
proprietor had  finished,  and  rushed out  to see if he couldn't slow Nicci
down.
     She  was lecturing on the Creator's love  of  every  man and asking the
people to  forgive  the  cruelty  of heartless  and uncaring people, as  she
handed  the last gold coin to  an unshaven man without teeth. He grinned his
thanks and then licked his parched lips. Richard knew how he would wet them.
There were yet more pleading hands thrusting toward her.
     Worried,  Richard seized  Nicci's arm and  pulled  her back. She turned
toward him.
     "We have to get back to the stables," she said.
     "That's what I'm thinking," Richard said, holding his  anger  in check.
"Let's hope the stableman is  done with  them by now  so  we  can get out of
here."
     "No," she said  with a  look  of grim finality in her eye.  "We need to
sell the horses."
     "What?" Richard  blinked  in  angry astonishment. "May  I at  least ask
why?"
     "To share what we have with those who have nothing."
     Richard was beyond words. He just stared at her. How were they going to
travel?  He considered  the  question briefly,  and decided that  he  didn't
really care  how  soon they got to wherever it was she  was taking him.  But
they  would  have to  carry everything. He was  a  woods guide, and used  to
walking with a pack, so he guessed he could  walk. He let out his breath and
turned toward the stables.
     "We need to sell the horses," Richard told the stable owner.
     The man frowned,  looked  at the horses standing  in  their stalls, and
then back at Richard. He looked thunderstruck.
     "Those are mighty fine horses,  mister. We don't  have horses like this
around here."

     "You do now," Nicci said.
     He  glanced uneasily at  her. Most people were uneasy  gazing at Nicci,
either  because  of  her  startling  beauty, or because of  her cool,  often
denunciative, presence.
     "I can't pay what horses like this are worth."
     "We didn't ask you to," Nicci said  in a dull voice. "We only asked  to
sell them to you. We need to sell them. We'll take what you can give us."
     The  man's eyes  shifted from  Richard's to  Nicci's and  back. Richard
could  tell the man was  uneasy  about cheating  them in such a way,  but he
couldn't seem to figure out how to turn down such an offer.
     "All I can pay is four silver marks for the both of them."
     Richard knew they were worth ten times that much.
     "And the tack," Nicci said.
     The man scratched his cheek. "I  guess I could throw in another silver,
but that's all I got to my name. I'm sorry, I  know they're  worth more, but
if you're bound  and determined for me  to  buy  them off you, that's all  I
got."
     "Is there  anyone else in  town who might  buy them for more?"  Richard
asked.
     "I don't believe so,  but  to  tell  you the truth, son, it wouldn't be
hurting  my feelings if  you were to go  ask around. I  don't like swindling
folks, and  I know you  couldn't call five  silver marks for the horses  and
tack anything else but a swindle."
     The  man  kept  glancing  at   Nicci,  seeming  to  suspect  that  this
transaction was beyond Richard's  ability  to  control. Her steady blue eyes
could make any man fidget.
     "We  accept  your  offer,"  Nicci   said  without  any  hesitation   or
uncertainty. "I'm sure it's quite fair."
     The man sighed unhappily at his windfall. "I don't have that much money
on me.  I'll go in the house"-he lifted a thumb over his  shoulder-"out back
of the barn and get it, if you'd be so good as to wait a minute."
     Nicci nodded and he hurried on his way, not so much eager to consummate
the  deal, Richard thought, as he  was eager  to be out from  under  Nicci's
gaze.
     Richard  turned to  her,  feeling his  face  heating. "What's this  all
about?" He saw through the partly open stable doors that the crowd of people
who had followed them were still out there.
     She ignored his  question. "Get your things-whatever you  can carry. As
soon as he comes back, it's time we were on our way."
     Richard pulled his glare from her. He stalked over to his gear, sitting
outside Boy's stall, and began  stuffing everything he  could into his pack.
He strapped the waterskins around  his waist and flipped the saddlebags over
his shoulders.  He was  sure the stable  owner  wouldn't complain  about not
having the  saddlebags with the rest  of the tack. Richard thought that when
they reached a  more prosperous town, he could at least sell the saddlebags.
While he worked, Nicci put her belongings into a pack she could carry.
     When the man came back  with the money, he offered it to Richard. Nicci
held out her hand.
     "I'll take it," she said.
     He glanced to Richard's eyes once and  then  handed Nicci the money. "I
threw in the  silver pennies you paid me  last  night.  That's all l have, I
swear."
     "Thank  you," Nicci said. "That was very  generous of you to share what
you have. That is the Creator's way."

     Without  another word, Nicci  turned  and strode through the dimly  lit
stable and out the door.
     "It's my way," the man muttered under  his breath to her back. "Creator
had no say in it."
     Outside in the sunlight, Nicci began doling out  the money she had just
gotten for the  horses.  The people vied for her favor as  she walked  among
them, speaking to them,  asking questions, until she  was out of sight, past
the edge of the barn door.
     Richard gave Boy a quick rub  on the blaze of his forehead, hoisted his
saddlebags onto his shoulder, and turned to the  dumbfounded  expression  on
the stable owner's face. He and Richard shared a helpless look.
     "I hope she's a good wife to you," the man finally said.
     Richard wanted to  say that Nicci was a Sister of the Dark, and that he
was her prisoner,  but in the end he decided that it could serve no purpose.
Nicci had made it clear to him that he was Richard Cypher, her  husband, and
she was Nicci Cypher, his wife. She had told him to stick to  that story-for
Kahlan's sake.
     "She's just generous," Richard said. "That's  why I married her.  She's
good to people."
     Richard  heard a  woman's cry, and shouting.  He bolted for  the partly
open  door and  ran  out into the  bright morning sunlight.  He  didn't  see
anyone.  He  raced  around  to  the  side of the barn,  to  where  he  heard
sc