Soul of the Fire (76 page)

That was a good sign.

Zedd stroked Spider’s nose. “You wait here. Understand? Wait here for me.”

The horse tossed her head and nickered agreeably. Smiling, Zedd scratched her ear. In response, she pressed her forehead against his chest, holding it there to let him know she would be well pleased if he were to want to continue scratching the ear for the rest of the afternoon.

Named after the unsettling leggy black splotch on her creamy rump, Spider had proven an excellent purchase, despite the high price. Being young, strong, and brimming with equine enthusiasm, the horse enjoyed trotting and occasional spirited runs. She had gotten him to Toscla in remarkably good time.

Since he had arrived, he had learned that Toscla was now called Anderith. In fact, he had almost been hauled off his horse by a man who accused Zedd of using the old name as an affront. Fortunately, Spider knew nothing of the peculiar human sensitivity to mere words; she was happy to leap into a gallop.

Zedd, without use of the gift and being vulnerable, besides feeling his age, had been resigned to a long and arduous journey afoot across the wilds. But by the magic of luck, on his third day out of the Mud People’s village, he ran across a man who turned out to be an agent in trade agreements. Since he frequently went back and forth between clients, the man traveled with several horses. He could afford to be without his extra until he reached his destination, especially at the price Zedd offered, and so had parted with Spider.

The formidable journey Zedd anticipated ended up being remarkably short and not at all unpleasant, as long as he didn’t dwell on his reasons for traveling to Anderith.

Mingling into line at the frontier, Zedd had been allowed through the checkpoint along with wagons, merchants, and traders of every sort. Dressed as he was in his fine maroon and black robes with silver brocade cuffs and gold brocade around the neck and down the front along with a gold buckle on a red satin belt, he was easily able to pass himself off as a merchant. He told the officers at the border that he had fruit orchards to the north and was on his way to Fairfield in order to negotiate trade agreements.

By the look of the soldiers he saw at the border, the people of Anderith placed too much faith in the Dominie Dirtch. It had been a long time since he had been to the land formerly called Toscla, but back then the border had been defended by as formidable and well trained an army as there was. The army had deteriorated until now it was nothing more than the hollow deterrent of ignorant confidence.

Zedd noticed Spider’s ears turn toward the empty-looking home down at the end of the alleyway. Every muscle in the horse was at full attention. Zedd guessed that perhaps a horse was as good at certain things as some of his magic might have been. He found the thought disagreeable. He wanted his magic back.

After giving Spider a pat of reassurance, and once again asking her to wait there, Zedd made his way down the narrow alleyway. Tall clapboard walls to each side kept out most of the light. Nevertheless, a wide variety of herbs grew beside the narrow footpath. Many of the herbs Zedd saw growing there didn’t enjoy the light at all. Some of them were exceedingly rare; they ordinarily hissed at light, but now they looked sickly.

Zedd made sure to step on each of the three steps going up to the door, rather than skip any. Such perfunctory attempts at stealth would be a mistake, if this was the place he hoped it was. Glancing in the gap of the curtains, he could see it was dark inside. He didn’t see any eyes evaluating him, but he strongly suspected, if not with the aid of magic then with common sense, that they were there.

He took one last look over his shoulder at Spider standing attentively, her ears pricked toward him. She lifted her head, opened her mouth, and neighed. Zedd reached up and knocked.

The door creaked as it opened. No one was behind it.

“
Enter,” came a voice from the shadows beyond, “and state your request.”

Zedd stepped into the gloom of the narrow room. Little light came in the gap between the heavy curtains, and the light from the door died out before daring to trespass very far. He could see no furniture, only the floorboards stretching off into the dim distance where she remained.

He turned and peered up at the top of the door. He pointed a bony finger at it.

“
Nice touch, the rope used to open the door while you stay over there. Very effective.”

“
Who are you to tempt my anger?”

“
Tempt your anger? Oh, dear no. You have it all wrong. I’m here looking for a sorceress.”

“
Take care, stranger, with what you wish. Wishes have an unpleasant manner of sometimes coming to be. State your name.”

Zedd bowed dramatically. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.” He cocked his head to regard with one eye the woman in the shadows. “That would be Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, as in, First Wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.”

The woman staggered into the light, her fair features set in astonishment. “First Wizard …”

Zedd put on a disarming smile. “Franca Gowenlock, I’m hoping?”

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, she seemed only able to nod.

“
My, my, but haven’t you grown.” Zedd held his hand out below his beltline. “You couldn’t have been any bigger than this when I last saw you.” He smiled with sincere admiration. “You look to have grown into a very lovely woman.”

She blushed as she reached up to plump her hair. “Why, I have gray hair.”

“
The bloom of it becomes you. It truly does.”

He meant it. She really was an attractive woman. Her nearly shoulder-length hair swept back to display proud features in a most appealing manner. The kiss of gray at her temples only enhanced her mature beauty.

“
And you …”

“
Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I know. I’m not exactly sure when it was that it happened, but I’ve grown into an old man.”

A grin growing on her face, she stepped up and curtsied, holding out to the skirts of her simple brown dress as she dipped.

“
I am honored to have you in my humble home, First Wizard.”

Zedd waggled a hand. “None of that, now. We’re old acquaintances. Just Zedd would do fine by me.”

She rose. “Zedd, then. I can hardly believe the Creator has answered my prayer in so direct a manner. Oh, but how I wish my mother were still alive to see you again.”

“
She, too, was a lovely woman. May the good spirits watch over her kind soul.”

Beaming, Franca took his face in both hands. “And you are as handsome as I remember.”

“
Really?” Zedd straightened his shoulders. “Why, thank you, Franca. I try to take care of myself. Wash regularly, and such—with a few herbs and special oils I occasionally add in the water. I think that accounts for my skin still being so supple.”

“
Oh, Zedd, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you. Thank the Creator.” She was still holding his face in her hands. Her eyes welled with tears. “I need help. Oh, First Wizard, I so desperately need your help.”

He took her hands in his. “Odd you should mention that.”

“
Zedd, you helped my mother, once. Now you must help me. Please. My power has failed. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’ve consulted books of charms, spells, and bewitching. None of them have been any help. I’ve had to tie that rope atop the door to fool people and keep them wary.

“
I’ve been worried sick. I’ve hardly slept. I’ve tried—”

“
The chimes are loose.”

Her lashes fluttered as she stared dumbly at him. Her silent home seemed to stretch with her, to turn an ear toward him with her, to hold its breath with her.

“
What did you say?”

“
The chimes are loose.”

“
No,” she said, appearing to be in a state of confused shock, “I don’t think that’s it. I think it may be a heating of my blood. Possibly caused by a hex placed on me by women of lesser talent but greater ambition. Jealousy, I believe it to be, along with a vengeful nature. I try not to step on people’s toes, as it were, but there have been times—”

Zedd grasped her shoulders. “Franca, I came here because I’m hoping you can help me. The Mother … my granddaughter-in-law … unintentionally set the chimes free while urgently summoning the aid of powerful magic in a final recourse to save the life of my grandson.

“
I need your help. That’s why I’ve come. My gift, too, has failed. All magic is failing. The world of life is in terrible danger. I don’t need to explain to a woman of your talents the consequences of such an event. We need to see if there is anything we can do to banish the chimes. As First Wizard, I’ve come to call upon you for help.”

“
Your grandson? Is he … did he survive the ordeal? Did he recover?”

“
Yes. Fortunately, with the aid of the woman then to be his wife, he survived and is now well.”

She put a fingernail between her teeth for a moment, her dark-eyed gaze shifting about as she considered his words. “There is that much good in it, then, that he survived. But then in return for their help, that would mean the chimes could cross the veil… .”

Her brow puckered. “Your grandson, you say. Has he the gift?”

A thousand things at once flashed through Zedd’s mind. He answered with a simple “Yes.”

Franca smiled briefly and politely, to show she was pleased for Zedd, and then moved into action. She threw back the drapes, took hold of his arm, and steered him to a table at the rear. She opened a heavy drape over a little window in the back to let light flood across the table. The dark mahogany tabletop had a Grace inlaid in silver.

Franca graciously gestured for him to sit. While he did, she retrieved two cups. After pouring tea from a pot hung over the glowing embers in the hearth, she set one before him and then sank into a chair across from him.

She dithered before saying, “I suspect there must be more to it.”

Zedd sighed. “There is a great deal more, but time is running short.”

“
Mind hitting a few of the high spots for me?”

“
Well, all right, then.” Zedd took a sip of tea first. “Do you recall D’Hara?”

Her hand with the teacup paused on its way to her lips. “And how could one not recall D’Hara?”

“
Yes, well, the thing is, my daughter was Richard’s—that’s my grandson, Richard—my daughter was Richard’s mother. He was fathered through a cruel act of rape.”

“
I’m so sorry,” she said with sincere sympathy. “But what does that have to do with D’Hara?’

“
The man who fathered him was Darken Rahl, of D’Hara.”

Her hands took on a decided tremble. She had not yet managed to get the tea to her mouth. With care, Franca set down her full cup lest she spill her tea before ever tasting it.

“
Do you mean to tell me that this grandson of yours is the progeny of two lines of wizards—and is the very same Lord Rahl demanding the surrender of all lands of the Midlands?”

“
Ah, well, yes, that would be him.”

“
And that this grandson of yours, the Lord Rahl himself, is the same one who is going to be wedded to the Mother Confessor herself?”

“
It was a lovely ceremony,” Zedd said. “Quite lovely. Rather exclusive, it was, but still stylish.”

Franca put her forehead in her hand. “Dear spirits, that is a lump to swallow.”

“
Oh, yes. He’s also a war wizard. I forgot—sorry. He was born with both sides of the gift.”

Her head came up. “What?”

“
You know, both sides. Subtractive Magic, as well as the usual Additive. Both sides.”

“
I know what ‘both sides’ means.”

“
Oh.”

Franca swallowed. “Wait just a minute. The chimes … you mean it was the Mother Confessor who called them?”

“
Well, she—”

The woman rose in a rush, her chair scraping against the floor. “It’s Lord Rahl who—dear spirits, the Mother Confessor herself pledged the soul of Lord Rahl—a war wizard with both sides of the gift—to the chimes?”

“
It’s not as bad as all that. She had no knowledge of the spell; she didn’t do it intentionally. She’s a good person and would never deliberately do such a thing.”

“
Deliberate or not, if the chimes get ahold of him—”

“
I’ve sent them both off to a safe place—to where the chimes can’t get to him. We have no need fear that part of it.”

She sighed with relief. “Thank the Creator for that much.”

Zedd took another sip. “But that still leaves us without our power, and the world without magic, and possibly on the brink of ruin. Like I said, I need some help.”

Franca finally sank back into her chair when Zedd nodded toward it. He smiled and told her the tea was excellent, and that she should have some herself.

“
Zedd, I think you need the Creator Himself to come help you. What do you think I can possibly do? I’m just an obscure, middling, unremarkable sorceress in a far-flung land. Why would you come to me?”

Zedd squinted. He pointed. “What are you hiding with that neck band?”

Her fingers brushed her throat. “A scar. You remember the Blood of the Fold?” Zedd nodded that he did. “Well, most every place has men like that, men who hate magic, men who think those with magic are responsible for every miserable thing that happens in their lives.”