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  　"Well, aren't you the clever one," Ann sniped.

  　"Yes, very. Not long after, I found a bottle exactly like it for half the price, and that was without haggling. I kept the bottle there on that pedestal to remind myself not to get cocky, just because I was First Wizard. It's just an old bottle kept as a lesson; no harm will come when Richard breaks it."

  　Ann chuckled as she shook her head. "If not for the gift, I fear to think what would have become of you."

  　"What I fear is that we are about to find out."

  　Already, as his magic was failing, he felt aches in his bones, and lassitude in his muscles. It would get worse.

  　Ann's 【创建和谐家园】ile faded at the grim reality of his words.

  　"I don't understand it. What you told Richard was true: Kahlan would have to be his third wife to have called the chimes into this world. We know the chimes are here, yet it's impossible.

  　"Even given the convoluted ways magic can interpret incidents to constitute the fulfillment of requirements and conditions to trigger an event, she can be counted as no more than his second wife. There was that other one, that Nadine girl, and Kahlan. One and one equals two; Kahlan can be no more than number two."

  　Zedd shrugged. "We know the chimes have been unleashed. That is the problem we must address, not the how of it."

  　Ann grudgingly nodded her assent. "Do you think that grandson of yours will do as he says and go straight to the Keep?"

  　"He promised he would."

  　Ann's eyes turned up to him. "We are talking about Richard, here."

  　Zedd opened his hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't know what else we could have done to insure he goes to the Keep. We gave him every motivation, from noble to selfish, to rush there. He has no wiggle room. We made the consequences, should he fail to do as we told him he must, frighteningly clear to him."

  　"Yes," Ann said, 【创建和谐家园】oothing the blanket folded over her arm, "we did everything except tell him the truth."

  　"We mostly told him the truth of what would happen if he doesn't go to the Keep. That was no lie, except that the truth is even more grim than we painted it for him.

  　"I know Richard. Kahlan loosed the chimes to save his life; he would be bound and determined to set it right, to help. He could only make what is bleak worse. We can't allow him to play with this fire. We gave him what he needs most: a way to help.

  　"His only safety is the Keep. The chimes can't get him where they were called forth, and the Sword of Truth is the only magic likely to still work. We will see to this. Who knows, without him in then" grasp, the threat could even die out on its own."

  　"Slim thread to hang the world on. However, I suppose you're right," Ann said. "He is one resolute man-like his grandfather."

  　She tossed the blanket on the pallet. "But at all costs, he must be protected. He leads D'Hara and is pulling the lands together under that banner to resist the scourge of the Imperial Order. In Aydindril, besides being safe, he can continue the task of forging unity. He has already proven his leadership ability. The prophecies warn that only he has a chance to successfully lead us in this struggle. Without him, we are lost for sure."

  　Nissel shuffled in carrying a tray of tava bread spread with honey and mint. She 【创建和谐家园】iled at Zedd as she let Ann unload the three steaming cups of tea she was also holding. Nissel set the tray of tava on the floor before the pallets and sat down where Zedd had been lying. Ann handed her one of the cups and sat on the folded blanket at the head of the other pallet.

  　Nissel patted the bedding beside her. "Come, sit, and have tava and tea before you must leave on your journey."

  　Zedd, considering weighty matters, offered her a weak 【创建和谐家园】ile as he sat beside her. She sensed his somber mood and silently lifted the platter to offer him tava. Zedd, seeing she understood his worry if not its cause, slipped a thankful arm around her shoulders. With his other hand, he took a piece of sticky tava.

  　Zedd licked honey from the crusty edge. "I wish we knew something about that book Richard mentioned, Mountain's Twin. I wish I knew if he knew anything about it."

  　"He didn't seem to. All Verna told me at the time was that Mountain's Twin was destroyed."

  　Ann had already known that much when Richard asked. She had offered to inquire through her journey book, even though its magic had already, faded, so they might conceal from Richard the spreading extent of the trouble.

  　"I wish I'd had a look at it before it was destroyed."

  　Ann ate a few bites of her tava bread before she asked, "Zedd, what if we can't stop them? Our magic is already beginning to dwindle. It won't be long until it fails completely. How are we going to stop the chimes without magic?"

  　Zedd licked honey from his lips. "I'm still hoping answers can be found at the place they were entombed, somewhere in the land of Toscla. Or whatever they call it now. Perhaps I can find books there, books of the history or culture of the land. They might give me the clue I need."

  　Zedd was growing weaker by the day. His departing power sapped vitality as it bled away. His journey would be slow and difficult. Ann had the same trouble.

  　Nissel cuddled close to him, happy to simply be with someone who liked her as a woman, and didn't want healing from her. Her healing would not help him. He genuinely did like her. He felt sympathy for her, too, for a woman most people didn't understand. It was hard to be unlike those around you.

  　"Do you have any theories at all of how to banish the chimes from this world?" Ann asked between bites.

  　Zedd tore his tava bread in half. "Only what we discussed; if Richard stays at the Keep, then without him the chimes very well may be pulled back to the underworld even without our help. I know it's a slim hope, but I will just have to find a way to fight them back into the underworld if need be. How about you? Any ideas?"

  　"None."

  　"And do you still have your mind set on trying to rescue your Sisters of the Light from Jagang?"

  　She swished away a gnat. "Jagang's magic will fail just the same as all other magic. The dream walker will lose his grip on my Sisters. In danger there is opportunity. I must use the opportunity while it is available."

  　"Jagang still has a huge army. For one who often criticizes my plans, you prove no more ingenious at the task of scheming."

  　"The reward is well worth the risk." Ann lowered the hand with her tava. I shouldn't admit it... but, since we are to part ways, I will say it. You are a clever man, Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander. I will miss your vexing company. Your trickster ways have saved our hides more than once. I admire your perseverance-and see where Richard gets his."

  　"Really? Well, I still don't like your plan. Flattery will not change that."

  　Ann simply 【创建和谐家园】iled to herself.

  　Her plan was too artless, but he understood her commitment. Rescuing the Sisters of the Light was essential, and not simply because they were captives being brutalized. If the chimes could be banished, Jagang would again control those sorceresses, and so their power.

  　"Ann, fear can be a powerful master. If some of the Sisters don't believe you that they can escape, you can't allow them to remain a menace, albeit an unwilling one, to our cause."

  　Ann looked over out of the corner of her eye. "I understand."

  　He was asking her to either rescue them or assassinate them.

  　"Zedd," she said in soft compassion, "I don't like mentioning it, but if what Kahlan has done...”

  　"I know."

  　In calling forth the chimes, Kahlan had invoked their aid to save Richard's life. There was a price.

  　In return for keeping Richard in the world of life until he recovered, she had unwittingly pledged the chimes the one thing they needed in order to also remain in the world of life.

  　A soul. Richard's soul.

  　But he would be safe at the Keep; the place where they had been called was a safe haven for the one pledged.

  　Zedd put half his tava bread to Nissel's lips. She 【创建和谐家园】iled and chomped a big bite. She fed him a bite of her tava bread, after touching it to the end of his nose first. The foolishness of this old healer putting a dot of honey on his nose, like some mischievous little girl, made him chuckle.

  　Finally, Ann asked, "What ever happened to your cat, Lurk?"

  　Zedd frowned as he puzzled, trying to recollect. "To tell you the truth, I don't recall. So much was happening back then. The war with D'Hara-led by Richard's other grandfather, Panis Rahl, was just igniting. The lives of thousands hung under threat. I was yet to be named First Wizard. Erilyn was pregnant with our daughter.

  　"I guess with all that was going on, we just lost track of the cat. There are countless places in the Keep with mice; it probably found lurking about more appealing than two busy people."

  　Zedd swallowed at the painful memories. "After I moved to Westland, and Richard was born, I always kept a cat as a reminder of Erilyn and home."

  　Ann 【创建和谐家园】iled in kind, sincere sympathy.

  　"I hope you never named one 'Lurk,' so that Richard would have cause to suddenly recall the name."

  　"No," Zedd whispered. "I never did."

  　CHAPTER 15

  　"Fetch!" Master Drummond called out.

  　Fitch pressed his lips tight trying unsuccessfully, he knew, to keep his face from going red. His 【创建和谐家园】iled politely as he trotted past the snickering women.

  　"Yes, sir?"

  　Master Drummond wagged a hand toward the rear of the kitchen. "Fetch in some more of the apple wood."

  　Fitch bowed with a "Yes, sir," and headed toward the door out to the wood. Even though the kitchen was a fog of marvelous aromas, from sizzling butter and onions and spices to the mouthwatering savor of roasting meats, he was glad for the chance to get away from the crusty cauldrons. His fingers ached from scraping and scrubbing. He was glad, too, that Master Drummond didn't ask for any oak. Fitch was relieved to have done one thing right by having brought in enough of the oak.

  　Trotting through the patches of warm sunlight on his way down to the heap of apple wood, he wondered again why Minister Chanboor had wanted to see Beata. She had certainly looked happy enough about it. Women seemed to go all giddy whenever they got a chance to meet the Minister.

  　Fitch didn't see what was so special about the man. After all, he was starting to get gray in his hair; he was old. Fitch couldn't imagine himself ever getting old enough to have gray hairs. Just thinking about it made his nose wrinkle with disgust.

  　When he reached the woodpile, something caught his eye. He put a hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he peered over to the shade of the turn round. He'd assumed it was just another delivery, but it was Brownie, still standing there with the butcher's cart.

  　He'd been busy in the kitchen and had thought Beata would have left long ago. There were any number of doors out, and he would have no way of knowing when she'd left. He'd just assumed she had.

  　It must have been an hour since she'd gone upstairs. Minister Chanboor probably wanted to give her a message for the butcher-some special request for his guests. Surely, he would have finished with her long ago.

  　So why was the cart still there?

  　Fitch bent and plucked a stick of apple wood. He shook his head in frustration; Minister Chanboor was probably telling her stories. Fitch hefted another billet from the woodpile. For some reason, women liked listening to the Minister's stories, and he liked telling them. He was always talking to women, telling them stories. Sometimes, at dinners and feasts, they gathered around him in giggling groups. Maybe they were just being polite-he was an important man, after all.

  　No girls worried about being polite to him, and they never much liked listening to his stories, either. Fitch gathered up the armload of apple wood and headed for the kitchen. He thought his stories about getting drunk were pretty funny, but girls weren't much interested in listening to them.

  　Morley liked his stories, at least. Morley, and the others who had pallets in the room where Fitch slept. They all liked telling each other stories, and they all liked to get drunk. There was nothing else to do on their rare time off from work and penance assembly.

  　At least at penance assembly they could sometimes talk to girls afterward, if their work was done and they didn't have to get back to it. But Fitch, like the others, found assembly a depressing experience, hearing all those terrible things. Sometimes, when they got back, if they could filch some wine or ale, they would get drunk.

  　After Fitch had brought in a dozen armloads, Master Drummond snagged his sleeve and shoved a piece of paper into his hand.

  　'Take this down to the brewer."

  　Fitch bowed and said his "Yes, sir" before starting out. He couldn't read the paper, but since there was going to be a feast and he'd carried such papers in the past, he guessed the columns of writing were probably orders for what the kitchen wanted brought up. He was glad for the errand because it didn't involve any real work, and it gave him a chance to get away from the heat and noise of the kitchen for a time, even if he did enjoy the aromas and could occasionally snatch a delicious scrap-all that tempting food was for guests, not the help. Sometimes, though, he just wanted away from the noise and confusion.

  　The old brewer, his dark Ander hair mostly gone and what was left mostly turned white, grunted as he read the paper Fitch handed him. Rather than sending Fitch on his way, the brewer wanted him to lug in some heavy sacks of trial hops. It was a common behest; Fitch was just a scullion, and so everyone had the right to order him to do work for them. He sighed, figuring it was the price for the slow walk he'd had, and the one he'd have on the way back.

  　When he went out to the service doors where much of the estate goods were delivered, he noticed that across the way Brownie was still standing there with the butcher's cart. He was relieved to see, stacked to the side of the loading dock, that there were only ten sacks to be lugged down to the brewery. When he'd finished with the sacks he was sent on his way.

  　Still catching his breath, he sauntered back through the service halls toward the kitchen, seeing few people, and all but one of them Haken servants so he had only to pause to bow that once. Echoing footsteps swished back to him as he climbed the flight of stairs up to the main floor and the kitchen. Just before going through the door, he paused.

  　He looked up at the stairwell's square ascent all the way to the third floor. No one was on the stairs. No one was in the halls. Master Drummond would believe him when he explained that the brewer wanted sacks brought in. Master Drummond was busy with preparations for that night's feast; he wouldn't bother asking how many sacks, and even if he did, he wasn't going to take the time to double-check.

  　Fitch was taking the steps two at a time almost before he'd realized that he'd decided to go have himself a quick look. At what, or for what, he wasn't sure.

  　He'd been on the second floor only a few times, and the third floor only once, just the week before to take the Minister's new aide, Dalton Campbell, an evening meal he'd ordered down to the kitchen. Fitch had been told by an Ander underling to leave the tray of sliced meats on the table in the empty outer office. The upper floors, in the west wing with the kitchen where Fitch worked, was where a number of officials' offices were located.

  　The Minister's offices were supposed to be on the third floor. From the stories Fitch had heard, the Minister had a number of offices. Why he would need more than one, Fitch couldn't guess. No one had ever explained it.

  　The first and second floors of the west wing, Fitch had heard it said, were where the vast Anderith Library was located. The library was a store of the land's rich and exemplary culture, drawing scholars and other important people to the estate. Anderith culture was a source of pride and the envy of all, Fitch had been taught.

  　The third floor of the east wing was the Minister's family quarters. His daughter, younger than Fitch by a maybe two or three years and dirt plain as Fitch heard it told, had gone off to an academy of some sort. He had only seen her from a distance, but he'd judged the description fair. Older servants sometimes whispered about an Ander guard who was put in chains because the Minister's daughter, Marcy or Marcia, depending on who was telling the story, accused him of something. Fitch had heard versions running from he was doing nothing but standing quietly guarding in a hall, to eavesdropping on her, to rape.

  　Voices echoed up the stairwell. Fitch paused with a foot on the next step, listening, every muscle stiff and still. As he remained motionless, it turned out to be someone passing along the first-floor hall, below. They weren't coming upstairs.

  　Thankfully, the Minister's wife, Lady Hildemara Chan-boor, rarely came into the west wing where Fitch worked. Lady Chanboor was one Ander who made even other Anders tremble. She had a foul temper and was never pleased with anyone or anything. She had di【创建和谐家园】issed staff just because they'd glanced up at her as they passed her in a hall.

  　People who knew had told Fitch that Lady Chanboor had a face to match her temper: ugly. The unfortunate staff who had looked up at Lady Chanboor as they passed her in the hall were put out on the spot. Fitch learned they'd become beggars.

  　Fitch had heard the women in the kitchen say that Lady Chanboor would go unseen for weeks because the Minister would have enough of one thing or another from his wife and give her a black eye. Others said that she was just on a drunken binge. One old maid whispered that she went off with a lover from time to tune.

  　Fitch reached the top step. There was no one in the halls of the third floor. Sunlight streamed in windows trimmed with gauzy lace to fall across bare wooden floors. Fitch paused on the landing at the top of the stairs. It had doors on three sides and the stairs on the other to his back. He looked down empty halls running left and right, not knowing if he dared walk down them.

  　He could be stopped by any number of people, from messengers to guards, and asked to explain what he was doing there. What could he say? Fitch didn't think he wanted to be a beggar.

  　As much as he didn't like to work, he did like to eat. He seemed to always be hungry. The food wasn't as good as what was served to the important people of the household or to the guests, but it was decent, and he got enough. And when no one was watching, he and his friends did get to drink wine and ale. No, he didn't want to be put out to be a beggar.

  　He took a careful step into the center of the landing. His knee almost buckled and he nearly cried out as he felt something sharp stick him. There, under his bare foot, was a pin with a spiral end. The pin Beata used to close the collar of her dress.

  　Fitch picked it up, not knowing what it could mean. He could take it and give it to her later, possibly to her joy to have it returned. But maybe not. Maybe he should leave it where he'd found it, rather than have to explain to anyone, Beata especially, how he'd come to have it. Maybe she'd want to know what he was doing going up there; she'd been invited, he hadn't. Maybe she'd think he'd been spying on her.

  　He was bending to put the pin back when he saw movement-shadows-in the light coming from under one of the tall doors ahead. He cocked his head. He thought he heard Beata's voice, but he wasn't sure. He did hear muffled laughter.

  　Fitch checked right and left again. He saw no one. It wouldn't be like he was going down a hall. He would just be stepping across the landing at the top of the stairs. If anyone asked, he could say he was only intending to step into a hall to get a look at the view of the beautiful grounds from the third floor-to look out over the wheat fields that surrounded the capital city of Fairfield, the pride of Anderith.

  　That seemed plausible to him. They might yell but, surely, they wouldn't put him out. Not for looking out a window. Surely.

  　His heart pounded. His knees trembled. Before he could consider if it was a foolish risk, he tiptoed across to the heavy, four-panel door. He heard what sounded like a woman's whimpers. But he also heard chuckling, and a man panting.