"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 spell. Al 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 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 slate 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 yon have to come to grip, 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 the 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?"

Richard's mouth was so dry that he had to work his tongue in order to be able to wet his lips enough to speak. "I don't know."

Nicci smiled wistfully. "An honest answer, at last." Even that smile was more than she could manage, and it vanished. "I'm afraid for you, Richard, afraid for what will become of your state of mind if you continue to cling to this, let it take over your whole life, and then it finally comes lo something like that, which it will. Sooner or later you are going to come face to face with the stone cold reality of the situation."

"Nicci, just because you can't envision.»

"Richard," she said, quietly cutting him off, "I'm a sorceress. I've been a Sister of the Light and a Sister of the Dark. I know a thing or two about magic. I'm telling you that such a thing as you suggest is simply beyond the power of any magic I know of. It is not beyond the power of a desperate man to dream up, but it is unworkable in the real world. You can't even begin to imagine the dire consequences were such a thing to even be attempted, much less possible."

"Nicci, I grant you your great knowledge on the subject, but you don't know everything. Just because you don't know how to do something, that does not mean it's impossible. It only means that you don't know how it can be done. You just don't want to admit that you might be wrong."

Her hands fisted at her sides as she blinked. "Do you think that I want to oppose you in this? Is that what you think? Do you think I enjoy trying in make you see the truth? Do you think that I like being against you in everything?

"What I know is that somehow, in some way, someone has made all of you forget that Kahlan exists. I know that she's real, and I intend on finding her. Even if you don't like it."

Nicci, her blue eyes brimming with tears, turned her back on him and gazed up briefly at the statue towering over her. "Richard, I would eagerly grand you your dream were it within my power to make it real. You cannot imagine what I would give to have you have what you want — to make you happy."

Richard watched the violet clouds at the horizon turning dark. It somehow seemed too peaceful to be real. Nicci stood with her arms folded, glaring off in the opposite direction, staring into the gathering darkness. Cara stood nearby, keeping an eye on all the people roaming the former palace grounds.

"Nicci," Richard finally said into the uncomfortable silence atop the vast marble circle, "do you have any explanations other than this being a dream? Is there anything within your knowledge that has any chance at all of being the cause of this? Is there anything at all, any kind of magic, that you can think of that would help solve this puzzle?"

He watched her back, wondering if she would answer. A long shadow lay across the curved, bronze dial plane encircling the proud figure. Idling him what he knew, that the day was dying, that valuable time was slipping away. Finally, Nicci turned to him. The fire seemed to gave gone out of her.

"Richard, I'm sorry that I can't make it real for you." She brushed away a tear as it ran down her cheek, "I'm sorry to let you down."

With a grim expression, Cara met Nicci's gaze. "I guess we have something in common."

Richard gently touched his fingertips to the statue of Spirit. The uplifted face, its proud gaze set in white marble, lost its glow as the last rays of the setting sun sank behind the hills.

"Neither one of you let me down," he said. "You both are telling me what you believe. But Kahlan is not a dream. She's as real as her spirit carved in this stone."