Chainfire (16 page)

Nicci hurried to keep up with him. “So where is it, then?”

“That little statue I carved for her out of walnut wood that summer in the mountains meant a great deal to Kahlan. She was eager to have it back after the men were finished using it. Kahlan has it.”

Nicci let out a sigh as she returned her gaze to where she was walking. “Of course she does.”

He frowned over at the sorceress. “And what does that mean?”

“Richard, when a person is suffering delirium, their mind works to come up with things to fill in the blank places, to knit together the tattered fabric of that delirium. It’s a way for them to try to make sense out of their confusion.”

“Then where is the statue?” he asked both women.

Cara shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened to it. There is this big one now, in marble. That’s the one that seems important.”

“I don’t know, either, Richard,” Nicci said when he looked her way. “Maybe if the carvers look around they will be able to come up with it.”

It seemed like she was missing the purpose of his story and that they only thought that he was interested in finding his carving.

“No, they won’t be able to come up with it. That’s the whole point. That’s what I’m trying to make you understand. Kahlan has it. I remember her pleasure the day she got it back. Don’t you see? No one will be able to find it or remember what happened to it. Don’t you see how things don’t fit? Don’t you see that something strange is going on? Don’t you see that something is wrong?”

They paused at the base of the broad expanse of steps.

“The truth? Not really.” Nicci gestured up at the statue standing before the semicircle of pillars. “After this statue was finally finished and the model was no longer needed it was probably lost or destroyed. As Cara said, we now have the statue here in stone.”

“But don’t you see the importance of the small carving? Don’t you see the importance of what I’m telling you? I remember what happened to it, but no one else will. I’m tying to prove a point—to show you something, to show you that I’m not dreaming up Kahlan, to show you that things just don’t add up and you need to believe me.”

Nicci slipped a thumb under the strap of her pack in an effort to ease the ache caused by the burden of its weight.

“Richard, your subconscious mind in all likelihood recalls what happened to the carving—that it was lost or destroyed after this statue was finished—and so it uses that small detail to try to patch in one of the holes in the insubstantial story you dreamed up in your delirium. It’s just your inner mind trying to make things seem like it all makes sense for you.”

So that was it. It wasn’t that they didn’t get his point, it was that they got it all too well and simply didn’t believe it. Richard took a deep breath. He still hoped to be able to convince them that they were the ones who were mistaken, who weren’t taking everything into account.

“But why would I invent such a story?”

“Richard,” Nicci said as she gently gripped his arm, “please, let’s just drop it. I’ve said enough. I’m only making you angry.”

“I asked you a question. What possible reason would I have for creating such a story?”

Nicci cast a sidelong glance at Cara before finally giving in. “If you want to know the truth, Richard, I think you recalled this statue here—partly because it was only recently carved after the revolt and it was fresh in your memory—and when you were hurt, when you were at the brink of death, because this was fresh in your mind you wove it into your dream. It became part of this woman you dreamed up—part of the story. You linked it all together and used it to help create something meaningful for yourself, something you could hang on to. Your mind used this statue because it serves to connect your dream to something in the real world. In that way, it serves to help make your dream more real for you.”

“What?” Richard was stunned. “Why would—”

“Because,” Nicci said, fists at her sides, “it makes it look as if you can point to something solid in the real world and say ‘this is her.’”

Richard blinked, unable to speak.

Nicci glanced away. Her voice lost its heat and dropped to a near whisper. “Forgive me, Richard.”

He withdrew his glare from her. How could he forgive her for what she sincerely believed? How could he forgive himself for not being able to make her understand?

Fearing to test his voice just then, he started up the expanse of steps. He couldn’t look into her eyes, couldn’t look into the eyes of someone who thought he was mad. He was hardly aware of the effort of climbing the hill of steps.

At the top, as he crossed the expansive marble platform he could hear Nicci and Cara rushing up the steps after him. For the first time, he noticed that there seemed to be quite a few people on the grounds of the former palace. From the height of the platform he could see the river that cut through the city. Flocks of birds wheeled above the swirling water. Beyond the towering columns behind the statue, green hills and trees wavered in the heat.

The proud figure of
Spirit
rose up before him, glorious in the golden late-day sunlight. He laid a hand against the cool, smooth stone for support. He could hardly endure the pain of what he felt at that moment.

When Cara came close he looked up into her blue eyes. “Is that what you believe, too? That I’m just inventing in my head that Kahlan was hurt and you and I cared for her? This statue doesn’t spark any memory? It doesn’t help you recall anything?”

Cara gazed up at the mute statue. “Now that you brought it up, Lord Rahl, I remember when I found the tree. I remember you smiling at me when I showed it to you. I remember that you were pleased with me. I also remember some of the stories you told me when you carved, and I remember you listening to some of my stories. But you carved a lot of things that summer.”

“That summer before Nicci came and took me away,” he added.

“Yes.”

“And if I’m only dreaming, and Kahlan doesn’t exist, then how did Nicci manage to capture me and take me away if you were there to protect me?”

Cara paused, taken aback by the cutting tone of the question. “She used magic.”

“Magic. Mord-Sith are the counter to magic, remember? That’s their whole reason for their existence—to protect the Lord Rahl from those with magic who would do him harm. The day Nicci showed up she intended to do me harm. You were there. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Terror crept incrementally into Cara’s blue eyes. “Because I failed you. I should have stopped her, but I failed. A day does not go by that I don’t wish you would punish me for failing in my duty to protect you.” Her face stood out crimson against her blond hair as her sudden confession burst forth. “Because I failed you, you were captured by Nicci and taken away for nearly a year—all because of me. If it had been your father I failed in such a fashion he would have executed me, but only after making me beg for death until I was hoarse. And he would have been right to do so; I deserve no less. I failed you.”

Richard stared in shock. “Cara…it wasn’t your fault. That’s the whole point of my question. You should remember that you could have done nothing to stop Nicci.”

Cara’s hands fisted. “I should have, but I didn’t. I failed you.”

“Cara, that’s not true. Nicci used a spell on Kahlan. Had either of us done anything to stop her, Nicci would have killed Kahlan.”

“What!” Nicci objected. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You captured Kahlan with a spell. That spell connected you to Kahlan and was directly controlled by your intent. If I hadn’t gone with you, you could have killed Kahlan at any time with no more than a thought. That, for the most part, was why Cara and I could do nothing.”

Nicci planted her hands on her hips. “And just what kind of a spell do you think could accomplish such a thing?”

“A maternity spell.”

Nicci regarded him with a blank look. “A what?”

“A maternity spell. It created a connection that made anything that happened to you happen to her. If Cara or I had harmed or killed you, the same fate would have befallen Kahlan. We were helpless. I had to do what you wanted. I had to go with you or Kahlan would have died. I had to do as you wished or you could have taken her life through the link of that spell. I had to make sure nothing happened to you or the same fate would befall Kahlan.”

Nicci shook her head with incredulity and then, without comment, turned to stare off at the hills beyond the statue.

“It wasn’t your fault, Cara.” He lifted her chin to make her wet eyes look up at him. “Neither of us could have done anything. You didn’t fail me.”

“Don’t you think that I would like to believe you? Don’t you think that I would, if it were true?”

“If you don’t remember what I’m telling you really happened,” Richard said, “then just how do you think Nicci managed to capture me?”

“She used magic.”

“What kind of magic?”

“I don’t know what kind of magic it was—I’m no expert on how magic works. She just used magic, that’s all.”

He turned to Nicci. “What magic? How did you capture me? What spell did you use? Why didn’t I stop you? Why didn’t Cara stop you?”

“Richard, that was…what, a year and a half ago? I don’t remember exactly what spell I used that day to capture you. It wasn’t all that hard. You don’t have the ability to control your gift or mount a defense against someone experienced with it. I could have tied you up in knots of magic and had you over the back of a horse without working up a sweat.”

“And why didn’t Cara try to stop you?”

“Because,” Nicci said, gesturing in exasperation at having to try to recall the irksome details, “I had you hobbled under my ability and she knew that if she made a move I would have killed you first. It’s no more complicated than that.”

“That’s right,” Cara said. “Nicci spelled you, just as she says. I couldn’t do anything because it was you she attacked. If she would have used her power against me I could have turned her gift against her, but she used it instead on you, so I could do nothing.”

With a finger, Richard wiped sweat from his brow. “You’re trained to kill with your bare hands. If nothing else why wouldn’t you have hit her over the head with a rock?”

“I would have hurt you,” Nicci said, answering for Cara, “or possibly even killed you, had she even looked like she was going to try anything.”

“And then Cara would have had you,” Richard reminded the sorceress.

“Back then I was willing to forfeit my life—I just didn’t care. You know that.”

Richard did indeed know that that much of it was true. At the time,
Nicci did not value life, not even her own. That had made her dangerous in the extreme.

“My mistake was in not attacking Nicci before she could get to you,” Cara said. “If I had made her strike out at me with magic, I would have had her. That is what a Mord-Sith is supposed to do. But I failed you.”

“You couldn’t,” Nicci said. “I surprised you both. You didn’t fail, Cara. Sometimes there simply isn’t any chance to succeed. Sometimes there is no solution. For the two of you, that was one of those situations. I was in control.”

It was hopeless. Every time he backed them into a corner they seemed to be able to effortlessly slither out.

Richard laid a hand against the smooth marble as his mind raced, trying to think of how this could be happening—what could be causing them to forget. He reasoned that maybe he could remedy the problem if he only knew what was causing it.

And then, something about that story he had told them in the shelter a couple of nights back suddenly sprang to mind.

Richard snapped his fingers.

“Magic,” he said. “That’s it. Remember how I told you that Kahlan showed up in the Hartland woods near where I lived, and that she had come because she was looking for the long-lost great wizard?”

“What of it?” Nicci asked.

“Kahlan was looking for the great wizard because Zedd had fled the Midlands before I was born. Darken Rahl had raped my mother and Zedd wanted to take her away to safety.”

Cara’s brow twitched with suspicion. “Much like you say you took this woman, your wife, to those remote mountains so she would be safe after she had been attacked?”

“Well, kind of, but—”

“Do you see what you’re doing, Richard?” Nicci asked. “You’re taking things you heard about and putting them into your dream. Do you see the thread that runs through both stories? That’s a common phenomenon when people dream. The mind falls back on what it knows or has heard about.”

“No, that’s not it. Just hear me out.”

Nicci conceded with a single nod but she clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin in the manner of an uncompromising teacher dealing with an obstinate student.

“I guess there were similarities,” Richard finally admitted, uncomfortable at the way Nicci had him locked in her knowing gaze, “but in a way that’s the point. You see, Zedd had become fed up with the council of the Midlands, much like I gave up trying to help people who believed in the Order’s lies. The difference is that Zedd wanted to leave them to suffer the consequences of their actions. He didn’t want them to be able to come asking for his help in getting them out of trouble of their own making. When he left the Midlands and went to Westland he cast a wizard’s web to make everyone forget him.”

He thought they should understand, but they only stared at him. “Zedd used a specific magic spell to make everyone forget his name, forget who he was, so that they couldn’t come looking for him. That must be what happened with Kahlan. Someone took her and used magic not only to erase her tracks, but to erase everyone’s memory of her. That’s why you can’t remember her. That’s why no one remembers her.”

Cara looked surprised by the notion. She glanced at Nicci. Nicci wet her lips and sighed heavily.

“That has to be it,” Richard pressed. “That has to be the answer.”

“Richard,” Nicci said in a quiet voice, “that’s not what is going on here. It doesn’t even remotely make sense.”

Richard couldn’t understand how Nicci, being a sorceress, couldn’t see it. “Yes it does. Magic made everyone forget Zedd. After Kahlan met me in the woods that day, she told me how she was looking for the great wizard, but that no one could recall the old one’s name because he had cast a web of magic to make them forget it. Magic must have been used to make everyone forget Kahlan in the same way.”

“Except you?” Nicci said as she arched an eyebrow. “This magic seems to have failed where you’re concerned, since you have no trouble remembering her.”

Richard had been expecting just such an argument. “It’s possible that since I alone have a different form of the gift, the spell didn’t work on me.”

Nicci again drew a deep, patient breath. “You say that this woman, Kahlan, came looking for the missing wizard, the ‘old one,’ right?”

“Right.”

“Don’t you see the problem, Richard? She knew that she was looking for this old one, the missing wizard.”

Richard was nodding. “That’s right.”

Nicci leaned toward him. “That kind of spell is quite troublesome to create, and it has a number of complications that must be taken into account, but other than that it’s not altogether remarkable. Difficult, yes, remarkable, no.”

“Then that must be what was done with Kahlan. Someone—maybe one of the Order’s wizards traveling with the supply convoy—took her and cast a spell to try to make us all forget her so that we wouldn’t come after them.”

“Why would someone go to the trouble to do such a thing?” Cara
asked. “Why not simply kill her? What’s the purpose in capturing her and then making everyone forget her?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe they simply wanted to have a way to escape without being followed. Maybe they intend to spirit her away and then, at a time of their choosing, parade their prisoner before their subjects to show their power, to show that they can capture anyone who opposes them. The fact remains that she’s gone and no one but me remembers her. It makes sense to me that a spell must have been used, like the spell Zedd used to make people forget him.”

Nicci pinched the bridge of her nose in a way that somehow made Richard feel just a little stupid, as if his idea was so foolish it was giving her a headache. “Everyone was looking for this old one, this great wizard. They remembered that he was the great wizard, that he was an important, accomplished man, even that he was from the Midlands. They merely couldn’t remember his name and probably what he looked like. So, without his name or a description of him they were having a great deal of difficulty finding him.”

Richard nodded. “That’s right.”

“Don’t you see, Richard? They knew that he existed, knew that he was the old wizard, and probably had a great many memories of things he had done, but they simply couldn’t recall his name—because of the spell. That’s all—his name. They couldn’t remember his name even though they remembered that the man existed.

“But this wife of yours is remembered by no one except you. We don’t know her name or anything else about her. We have no memory of her or of anything she supposedly did with us. We have no knowledge of anything at all about her. Not one thing. She exists in no one’s mind but yours.”

Richard saw the distinction but wasn’t ready to concede the point. “But maybe this was just a stronger spell, or something. It must have been much the same, but just more powerful so that everyone not only forgets her name, but forgets her altogether.”

Nicci gently gripped his shoulders in an almost painfully sympathetic manner.

“Richard, I admit that to someone like you, who grew up without understanding magic, that might seem like it makes sense—and it’s very inventive, it really is—but it simply doesn’t work that way in the real world.
To someone without an understanding of how such power works it must seem entirely logical, at least on the surface. But when you look deeper the difference between a spell to make everyone forget a person’s name and a spell making everyone forget that the person ever existed, it’s the difference between lighting a fire at camp and igniting a second sun in the sky.”

Richard threw up his hands in frustration. “But why?”

“Because the first alters only one thing, the memory of a person’s name—and I must add that such a thing, as simple as it might seem on the face of it, is profoundly difficult and beyond the ability of all but a handful of the most gifted individuals and even then they must have extensive knowledge. Still, everyone knows that they have forgotten the great wizard’s name so even as it does the work of making people forget that name, the spell only has to accomplish this one clearly defined and limited task. The difficulty with spells of this nature is in how broadly the task is applied, but for the purpose of this example that is beside the point.

“Where the first example alters one thing, the name of the vanished wizard, the second alters nearly everything. That is what makes it beyond difficult; it makes it impossible.”

“I still don’t understand.” Richard paced from the statue partway out across the platform and back, gesturing as he spoke. “It seems to me like it does roughly the same thing.”

“Think of all the ways a person, especially an important person such as the Mother Confessor, touches the lives of nearly everyone. Dear spirits, Richard, she oversaw the Central Council of the Midlands. She made decisions that affected every land.”

Richard closed the distance to the sorceress. “What difference does that make? Zedd was First Wizard. He was important, too, and he touched a lot of lives.”

“And people only forgot his name; they did not forget the man himself. Try, for a moment, to imagine what would be the result if a spell could make everyone forget a simple man.” Nicci walked off a few paces and then abruptly turned back. “Say, Faval, the charcoal maker. Not just forget his name, but forget the man entirely. Forget that he exists or ever did, just like you suggest happened to this woman, Kahlan.

“What would happen? What would Faval’s family do? Who would his children think fathered them? Who would his wife think made her pregnant and gave her children, if she couldn’t remember Faval? Where was
this mystery man who sired a family? Would her mind invent another man to soothe her panic and fill the void? What would her friends believe and how would all of their thoughts mesh with hers? What would everyone believe without the truth to support their thinking? What would happen when people’s mind’s fabricated patches filling the gaps in their memories, and those patches didn’t match? With the charcoal ovens all around his home, how would his wife and children think they got there and how had all the charcoal been made? What would happen at the foundry where Faval sold his charcoal? What would Priska think—that somehow baskets of charcoal had magically appeared in the bins in the storage room of his foundry?

“I’m not even beginning to scratch the surface of the ever expanding complications such a fanciful forget-me spell cast on Faval would cause—the accounting of money, the allocation of work, the agreements with lumbermen and other workers, the documents, the promises he’d made and all the rest. Think of all the confusion and disarray such a thing would cause, and that’s with one little-known man living in a tiny house down a lonely lane.”

Nicci lifted an arm as if in grand introduction, “But with a woman like the Mother Confessor herself?” She let the arm drop. “I can’t even begin to imagine the tangle of consequences left snarled in the wake of such an incomprehensible event.”

Nicci’s mane of blond hair stood out against the dark background of trees on the hills beyond the broad, level grassy expanse. Her hair’s length and its sweeping curves looked casual, even comfortably intimate, and complemented her shapely form in her black dress, but the power of her presence was not to be taken lightly. At that moment, as she stood illuminated by a ray of light from the setting sun, she was a breathtaking figure of astute perception and knowledgeable authority, a force that seemed beyond reproach. Richard stood mute and motionless as she went on in an instructional tone.

“It’s the cascade of connections to all those specific incidents that would make such a spell impossible. Every little thing that the Mother Confessor had ever done would snowball together with connected circumstances in which she may not even have been personally involved, compounding the number of events that would become tainted by such a
spell. The power, the complexity, the sheer magnitude of it is beyond comprehension.

“Those complications must draw power from the spell in order to counteract the disruptive potential of such complications. Those exigencies feed off the power of the spell that seeks to command the nature of the event. At some point, a spell without the power to compensate for a growing vortex of such dissipative events would simply sputter and die like a candle in a downpour.”

Nicci stepped close and jabbed a finger at his chest. “And that’s not even taking into account the most glaring inconsistency of your dream. In your delirium you dreamed up an even more complex predicament. You dreamed up not only this woman, this wife, who is remembered by no one else, but in your irrational dreaming state you went further, much further, without realizing the fateful consequences. You see, it wasn’t merely some country girl, who no one knew, that you dreamed up for yourself. No, you made her a known person. In the context of a dream that might seem a simple thing, but in the real world a known person creates a congruency dilemma.

“And yet, you went further still! Even a known person would not be as complicated as what you did.

“In your state of delirium you picked the Mother Confessor herself, a near mythic individual, a person of great importance, but at the same time a person far away, a person that neither Cara nor I nor Victor would know. None of us is from the distant Midlands, so we would have no way to easily offer up facts that are inconsistent with your dream. That distance might have made sense in your dream because it seemed to also solve the untidy problem of contradictory facts, but in the real world it still creates for you a problem of insurmountable magnitude: Such a woman is widely known. It’s only a matter of time until your carefully constructed world clashes with the real world and begins to fall apart. By picking a known person, you have doomed your idyllic dream to destruction.”

Nicci lifted his chin and made him look into her eyes. “In your troubled state of mind, Richard, you dreamed up someone comforting. You were facing the abyss of death; you desperately wanted someone to love you, someone who made you feel less afraid, less terrified, less alone. That’s completely understandable, it really is. I don’t think any less of you—I
couldn’t—because you created such a solution for yourself when you were so afraid and so alone, but it’s over and you have to come to grips with it.

“If it had been an unknown woman you imagined, then the dream would have been nothing more than an ethereal abstraction. But you inadvertently linked it to reality because the Mother Confessor is known by a great many people. If you ever get back to the Midlands, or run into people from the Midlands, your dream will come face-to-face with the indisputable reality. For you, each one of those people is a lurking shadow ready to shoot an arrow, but this time an arrow that will not fail to pierce your heart.

“It could even be worse. What if the real Mother Confessor is dead?”

Richard drew back. “But she’s not.”

“Lord Rahl,” Cara said, “I remember several years ago when Darken Rahl sent the quads to kill all the Confessors. The quads don’t fail at their task of assassination.”

Richard stared at the Mord-Sith. “But they failed to get her.”

“Richard,” Nicci said in a gentle tone, drawing his gaze back to her, “what if you someday get to the Midlands and you discover that the real Mother Confessor was not what you imagined, but was in fact an old woman? After all, the Confessors didn’t name women as young as this love of yours would have been to be the Mother Confessor. What if you find out that the real woman was old, and worse, that she is long dead? The truth, now. What would you do then, if you were confronted by that and it was real?”