Stone of Tears by Terry Goodkind

  It was as good a background as any to put the sword on. After all, he was trying to use magic. If his mind wanted to use it, it made no difference to him; he would let it be. At that thought, the image of the sword and a square black background with white around it solidified and became still.

  Richard concentrated on the mental image of the sword against the black square with the white border. He concentrated as hard as he could. Something began to happen.

  The sword, the black square, and the white border all began to shimmer as if seen through heat waves. The solid form of the sword softened. It became transparent, and then it was gone. The background dissolved. He was looking into a place he knew.

  The Garden of Life, at the Peoples' Palace.

  Richard thought it odd, and somewhat annoying, that he wasn't able to hold his concentration enough to keep the image of the sword in his mind. The memory of the place where he killed Darken Rahl must have been so strong that it forced its way into his mind while he was relaxed.

  He was about to try to force the image of the sword to come back when he smelled something. Burned flesh. The stench made his nostrils flare. He almost gagged. His stomach turned sickeningly.

  He searched the image of the Garden of Life. It was like looking through a dirty windowpane. There were bodies lying over the short walls, fallen, partly hidden, in bushes, and sprawled on the grass. All were hideously burned. Some held weapons, swords or battle axes, in charred fists. Others lay with open hands, their weapons resting where they had tumbled as their owners fell dead. Choking apprehension swelled in Richard's chest.

  Richard saw the back of a white, glowing figure standing before the stone altar, before the three boxes of Orden. One of the boxes stood open, as Richard remembered. The white figure with long blond hair lifted his face away from the boxes.

  Darken Rahl turned and looked right into Richard's eyes. His blue eyes glowed. A smile spread slowly on his lips. It seemed as if Richard was helplessly pulled closer. Closer to the grinning face.

  Darken Rahl lifted a hand to his mouth and licked the tips of his fingers. "Richard," he hissed. "I'm waiting for you. Come watch while I tear the Veil."

  Unable to draw a breath, Richard slammed the image of the sword back into his mind, like slamming a door. He held it there, rigidly, without the background, as he tried to make himself breathe.

  It was just a stray memory, and his fear, making him see the image, he told himself. He concentrated on the sword as he finally decided that what he had seen wasn't real, but maybe a manifestation of his heartache over Kahlan, and his lack of sleep.

  That's what it had to be. It couldn't have been real. That would be impossible. He would have to be insane to believe it had been real.

  He opened his eyes. Sister Verna was sitting calmly watching him. She gave a heavy sigh. He thought maybe out of displeasure.

  Richard swallowed. "I'm sorry. Nothing happened."

  "Don't be discouraged, Richard. I did not expect anything to happen. It takes a long time to learn to touch the Han. It will happen when it happens. There is no way to rush it. It does no good to push too hard; it comes from finding the inner peace and not by force. That is long enough for today."

  "A few minutes? That's all you want me to try?"

  She lifted an eyebrow. "You have had your eyes closed for over an hour."

  He stared at her, and then glanced to the sun. It seemed to have jumped up into the sky. Over an hour. How was that possible? A tingle of apprehension spread through him.

  She cocked her head. "It seemed only a few minutes to you?"

  Richard stood. He didn't like the frown on her face. "I don't know. I wasn't paying any attention. I guess it did feel like an hour."

  *****

  He started packing the few things he had taken out. The more he thought about what he had seen, the more unreal it seemed. It began to feel like a dream after waking, the fear, the hard edges, the reality, fading. He began to feel foolish for being so frightened by a dream.

  A dream? He hadn't been sleeping. How could he have been dreaming when he was awake.

  Maybe he hadn't been awake. He had been dead tired. Maybe while he was sitting there concentrating on the sword, he had fallen asleep. That's how he went to sleep, sometimes: by concentrating on something until he drifted off. That was the only explanation for the time going so fast. He was asleep, and the rest of it had been a dream.

  He let out a heavy breath. He felt silly for having been so frightened, but he felt relieved, too. When he turned, Sister Verna was still watching him.

  "Do you wish to shave now? Now that I have shown you I only wish to help you."

  Richard straightened. "I told you: prisoners don't shave."

  "You are not a prisoner, Richard."

  He stuffed his blanket into his pack, tucking in the corners to make it fit. "Will you remove the collar?"

  Her answer was slow in coming, but firm. "No. Only when it is time."

  "May I leave, and go where I wish?"

  She gave an impatient sigh. "No. You must go with me."

  "And if I don't, if I try to leave you?"

  Her eyes narrowed a little. "Then I would be forced to prevent it. You would find you did not like that."

  Richard nodded solemnly. "That fits my definition of a prisoner. As long as I'm a prisoner, I will not shave."

  The horses nickered at his approach, their ears pricking toward him. Sister Verna eyed them suspiciously. He returned the greeting with gentle words and a stiff scratch to the side of each horse's neck. Taking out the brushes, he gave each a quick grooming, paying particular attention to their backs.

  Sister Verna folded her arms. "Why are you doing that? You groomed them last night."

  "Because horses like to roll in the dirt. They could have something under where the saddle goes. Feels kind of like walking around with a rock in your boot, only worse; it could give them a sore, and then we won't be able to ride them. So, I like to check them over before I put their saddles on."

  When he finished, he cleaned the brushes against each other. "What are their names?"

  Sister Verna gave a sour frown. "They don't have names. They are just horses. We don't give names to dumb animals."

  He pointed with the curry brush at the chestnut gelding. "You don't even give your own a name?"

  "He is not my own. They all belong to the Sisters of the Light. I ride whichever one is available. The bay you rode yesterday is the one I rode before you came with me, but it makes no difference. I simply ride whichever one is available."

  "Well, from now on, they're going to have names. Avoids confusion. Yours is the chestnut, and he will be Jessup, my bay will be Bonnie, and the other bay will be Geraldine."

  "Jessup, Bonnie, and Geraldine," she huffed. "No doubt from The Adventures of Bonnie Day."

  "Glad to hear you read something other than prophecies, Sister Verna."

  "As I told you before, ones with the gift who come to the Palace are brought when they are young. One boy brought The Adventures of Bonnie Day with him. I read it to see if it was appropriate for young minds, and to see if it was of good moral teachings. I found it to be a preposterous story of three people who would have had no troubles if a one of them had been blessed with brains."

  Richard smiled a little. "Perfect names for 'dumb animals' then."

  She scowled at him. "It was a book of no intellectual value. No value of any kind. I destroyed it."

  Richard's smile tried to fade, but he didn't let it. "My father... well, the man who raised me as his son, and who I think of as my father, George Cypher, well, he traveled often. One time, when he came home, he brought me The Adventures of Bonnie Day, as a gift for learning to read. It was the first book I ever had. I read it many times. It brought me pleasure, and made me think, each time I read it. I, too, thought the three heros did foolhardy things, and I always vowed not to repeat the same mistakes they made. You may have seen no value in it, but it taught me things. Things of
value. It made me think. Perhaps, Sister Verna, that is something you don't like your students to do?"

  He turned away from her and started taking apart the bridles. "My real father, Darken Rahl, came to my house, just this autumn, looking for me. He wanted to cut my belly open and read my entrails—to kill me. Just as he killed George Cypher." He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. "Anyway, I wasn't at home, and while he was waiting for me, he tore that book apart and threw the pages all around. Maybe he didn't want me learning any of its lessons or thinking for myself either."

  Sister Verna didn't say anything, but he could feel her eyes watching him take the bridles apart, undo the headstalls and reins from the bits. After he had them apart, he packed the headstalls away and flipped the reins over his shoulder.

  He could hear her let out a little, angry breath. "I'll not be calling horses by names."

  Richard stacked the three spade bits atop one another on the dirt, where the horses had pawed the ground bare for a place to sleep. "You might want to reconsider the wisdom of that, Sister Verna."

  She stepped out to the side of him, where he could see her, pointing at the ground. "What are you doing? Why did you take the bridles apart? What are you doing with those bits?"

  Richard drew the sword. Its distinctive ring filled the cold, bright air. The rage of the magic instantly flooded through him. "I'm destroying them, Sister."

  With a scream of fury, and before she could make a move, he brought the sword down with a powerful swing. The tip whistled through the air. The blade shattered the three bits into flying shards of hot metal.

  She rushed forward, her cloak flapping. "What's the matter with you! Have you lost your mind! We need those bits to control the horses!"

  "Spade bits are cruel. I won't allow you to use them."

  "Cruel! They are just stupid beasts! Beasts that need to be controlled!"

  "Beasts," he muttered, shaking his head and sliding his sword back into its scabbard. He snugged up the halter on Bonnie and began attaching the reins to the side rings. "You don't need a bit to control a horse. I'll teach you how. Besides, without a bit in their mouths they can eat while we travel. They'll be happier that way."

  "That's dangerous! Spade bits give you control over a headstrong beast."

  He arched an eyebrow to her. "With horses, as with many other things, Sister, you often get what you expect to get."

  "Without bits, you don't have any control."

  "Nonsense. If you ride properly, you control with your legs and body. You just have to teach the horse to pay attention and trust you."

  She stepped close, commanding his attention. "That's foolish! And dangerous! There are dangers out here. If you get into a dangerous situation, and the horse is frightened, it could bolt. Without a spade bit you won't be able to stop a runaway horse."

  He stopped what he was doing and looked to her intense brown eyes. "Sometimes, Sister, we get the opposite of what we intend. If we do get in a dangerous situation, and you get just a little over anxious, and jerk just a little too hard on a spade bit, you will tear the horse's mouth. If you do that, the pain, terror, and anger can be so intense that he won't respond to anything you do. He won't understand. He will only know that you hurt him, and that you are hurting him more with each pull on the reins. You will be the threat. He will throw you in a heartbeat.

  "If he gets you on the ground while he's in that state of anger and pain, he will tear you apart. In trying to avoid danger with a spade bit, you will have brought it upon yourself." He held her startled eyes in his gaze. "If we get to a town or something, and can find a jointed snaffle bit, I will let you use that. But I will not allow you to put a spade bit in any horse's mouth as long as I'm with you."

  She took a deep breath, releasing it carefully as she folded her arms again. "Richard, we can't control them without a bit. It's that simple."

  He gave her a one sided smile. "Sure we can. I'll teach you. The worst thing that can happen without a bit is that he can run away with you, and you will have a time of stopping him, but sooner or later, you will be able to. Your way, you and the horse could be hurt, or killed."

  He turned and scratched Bonnie's neck. "First thing you have to do is make friends with them. They have to trust you not to hurt them, or let anything happen to them, though you are in charge. If you are their best friend, they won't let anything happen to you. They will do what you ask.

  "It's surprisingly easy; all you have to do is show them a little respect and kindness along with a firm hand. If they are going to be your friend, they need names, to get their attention, and so they know when you are talking to them."

  He scratched a little harder, the horse leaning into it. "Isn't that right Bonnie? You're a good girl aren't you? Sure you are." He looked over his shoulder at the Sister. "Jessup likes it when you scratch under his chin. Give it a try, show him you want to be friends." He gave her a humorless grin. "Like it or not, Sister, we don't have the bits anymore. You need to learn a new way."

  Sister Verna gave him a cold look. At last she unfolded her arms and went over to the chestnut gelding. She stood in front of him a moment and then reached out and stroked the side of his head, finally moving her hand under his jaw to give him a scratch. "There's a good boy," she said in a flat tone.

  "You may think horses are dumb, Sister Verna, because they don't understand most of your words, but they understand tone of voice. If you want him to believe you, you had better at least pretend you are sincere."

  She moved her hand up and rubbed his neck. "You are a dumb beast," she said in a syrupy sweet voice. "Happy?" she snapped over her shoulder.

  "As long as you're nice to him. You need to gain his trust. Horses aren't as dumb as you think. Look at the way he's standing; he doesn't trust you. From now on, I'm assigning you to Jessup. You will tend to all his needs. He must come to depend on you, to trust you. I will take care of Bonnie and Geraldine. You will be the only one to groom Jessup, and you will do it after he is ridden, and before he is ridden the next morning."

  "Me! Most certainly not! I am in charge. You are quite capable of grooming all three, and will do so."

  "This has nothing to do with who's in charge. Among other things, grooming helps build a bond between you and the horse. I already told you: the bits are gone, you need to learn a new way. I need to teach you how, for your own safety." He handed her a set of reins. "Tighten up the halter and attach these to this ring, here."

  While she was doing it, he cut up the leftover melon rind into small pieces. "Talk to him. Call him by name, and let him know you like him. It doesn't matter what you say, you can describe what you are doing if you want, but make it sound like he's important to you. If you have to, pretend; treat him like he's one of your little boys."

  She glared over her shoulder at him, then turned back to hooking up the reins. She started talking, softly, so Richard couldn't hear her, but he could tell it was gentle. When she finished, he handed her some of the pieces of melon rind.

  "Horses love this. Give him a piece, tell him what a good boy he is. The idea is to change his feelings about having the reins on. Let him know it's going to be pleasant, instead of that bit he hates."

  "Pleasant," she repeated in a flat tone.

  "Sure. You don't need to show him how much you can hurt him to make him do as you wish. That's counterproductive. Just be firm but gentle. The idea is to try to win him over with kindness and understanding, even if it isn't sincere, and not by using force."

  Richard's smile vanished, and he let his features slide into a glare. He leaned closer to her as she stood looking up at him. "You should be able to do that, Sister Verna; you seem pretty good at it. Just treat him like you treat me."

  Her stunned expression hardened. "I swore on my life to bring you back to the Palace of the Prophets. When they see you at last, I fear I may be hung for doing my duty."

  She turned and gave the melon rind to the eager horse, stroking his neck and encouraging him with mothe
rly pats. "There's a good fellow. Good boy. You like that, Jessup? Good boy."

  Her voice was heavy with compassion and tenderness. The horse liked it. Richard knew it lacked sincerity. He didn't trust her, and wanted her to know it. He didn't appreciate people thinking they were so easily fooling him. He wondered if her attitude toward him would change, now that he had let her know he hadn't swallowed her act.

  Kahlan had told him that Sister Verna was a sorceress. He had no idea what she was capable of, but he had felt the web she had thrown around him in the spirit house. He had seen the fire she started with a thought. She could have easily started a fire the night before, without telling him to do it. He had the strong feeling she could break him in half with her Han, if she so chose.

  She was just trying to train him; get him accustomed to doing as she said, without thinking. Just like training a horse. Or a "beast", as she had called it. He doubted she had any more respect for him than she did for her horses.

  But instead of using a spade bit to control him, she had the Rada'Han around his neck, and that was much worse. But he would have it off, when the time came. Even if Kahlan didn't want him and had sent him away, he would have it off.

  While Sister Verna was making friends with Jessup, Richard started saddling the horses. "How far to the Palace of the Prophets?"

  "It is a long way to the southeast. A long and difficult way."

  "Well, then we will have plenty of time to teach you how to handle Jessup without a bit. You won't have as hard a time as you think. He will defer to and follow Bonnie. Bonnie is the dominant horse."

  "The male is dominant."

  Richard lifted the saddle up onto Bonnie. "A mare is always at the top off the hierarchy. Dams teach and protect the foals; their influence lasts a lifetime. There isn't a stallion a mare can't intimidate and chase away. Mares can run off any unwanted stallion. A stallion may drive a predator away from the herd, but a mare will chase it and try to kill it. A male horse will always defer to the authority of the lead mare. Bonnie is the lead mare. Jessup and Geraldine will follow her and do as she does, so I'll take the lead. Just follow me, and you won't have any trouble."