Zedd's brow tightened. "Ann, you are making it sound-"

"If I am not telling the truth, then call me a liar."

Zedd rested the back of his wrist over his eyes and remained silent. Ann tilted her head back enough to meet Richard's gaze.

"Am I making myself clear?"

He swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

Zedd reached out for the comfort of Richard's hand. "This is important, Richard, but don't break your neck getting there?"

Richard smiled. "I understand. A swift journey, not impetuous reckless haste, is more likely to get you to your destination."

Zedd managed a low chuckle. "So you did listen when you were younger."

"Always."

"Then listen now." The sticklike finger once more lifted from his slack fist. "You must not use fire, if you can avoid it at all. The Lurk could find you by fire."

"How?"

"We believe the spell can seek by fire's light. It was sent for you, so it can search for you with fire. Keep away from fire.

"Water, too. If you must ford a river, use a bridge if at all possible, even if you must go days out of your way. Cross streams on a log, or swing over on a rope, or jump, if you can."

"You mean to say we risk ending up like Juni, if we go near water?"

Zedd nodded. "I'm sorry to make it more difficult for you, but this is perilous business. The Lurk is trying to get you. You will only be safe-all of us will only be safe-if you can get to the Keep and break that bottle before the Lurk finds you."

Undaunted, Richard smiled. We'll save time-not having to gather firewood or bathe."

Zedd again let out the breathy little chuckle. "Safe journey, Richard. And you, too, Cara. Watch over Richard." His sticklike fingers gripped Kahlan's hand. "And you too, my new granddaughter. I love you dearly. Keep each other safe and well. I will see you when we reach Aydindril, and we will have the joy of each other's company again. Wait at the Keep for us."

Kahlan gathered up his bony hand in both of hers as she sniffled back the tears. "We will. We'll be there waiting for you. We'll be a family together, again, when you get there."

"Safe journey, all," Ann said. "May the good spirits be with you always. Our faith and prayers will be with you, too."

Richard nodded his thanks and started to rise, but then paused. He seemed to consider something for a moment. He spoke at last in a soft voice.

"Zedd, all the time I was growing up, I never knew you were my grandfather. I know you did that to protect me, but… I never knew." He fidgeted with a piece of grass sticking out of the pallet. "I never got a chance to hear about my mother's mother. She almost never spoke of her mother- just a word here and there. I never learned about my grandmother. Your wife."

Zedd turned his face away as a tear rolled down his cheek. He cleared his throat. "Erilyn was… a wonderful woman. Like you have a wonderful wife now, so I once did, too.

"Erilyn was captured by the enemy, by a quad sent by your other grandfather, Panis Rahl, when your mother was very young. Your mother saw it all-what they did to her mother…. Erilyn only lived long enough for me to find her. She was already at the brink of death, but I tried to heal her. My magic activated a sinister spell the enemy had hidden in her. My healing touch was what killed her. Because of what she saw, your mother found it painful to speak of Erilyn."

After an uncomfortable moment, Zedd toned back to them and smiled with a memory of genuine joy. "She was beautiful, with gray eyes, like your mother. Like you. She was as smart as you, and she liked to laugh. You should know that. She liked to laugh."

Richard smiled. He cleared his throat to find his voice.

"Then she surely married the right person."

Zedd nodded. "She did. Now, gather your things and be on your way to Aydindril so we can get our magic back to right.

"When we finally join you in Aydindril, I will tell you all the things about Erilyn-your grandmother-that I never could before." He smiled a grandfather's smile. "We will talk of family."

"Fetch! Here, Boy! Fetch!"

The men laughed. The women giggled. Fitch wished his face wouldn't always go as red as his hair when Master Drummond mocked him with that epithet. He left the scrub brush in the crusty cauldron and scurried to see what the kitchen master wanted.

Dashing around one of the long tables, his elbow whacked a flagon someone had set near the edge. He caught the heavy, cobalt blue glass vessel just before it toppled to the floor. Exhaling in relief, he pushed it back near the stack of braided bread. He heard his name yelled again.

Fitch jigged to a halt before Master Drummond, keeping his eyes to the floor-he didn't want a lump on his head for appearing to protest being the butt of jokes.

"Yes, Master Drummond?"

The portly kitchen master wiped his hands on a white towel he always kept tucked behind his belt. "Fitch, you have to be the clumsiest scullion I've ever seen."

"Yes, sir."

Master Drummond stretched up on his toes, peering out the back window. "Someone in the distance behind Fitch cursed as they burned themselves on a hot pan and in recoiling knocked metalware clattering across the brick floor near the baking hearth. There was no angry shouting, so Fitch knew it wasn't one of the other Haken scullions.

Master Drummond gestured toward the service door of the sprawling kitchen. "Fetch in some wood. We need the oak, and also a bit of apple to flavor the ribs."

"Oak and apple. Yes, sir."

"And get a four-hand cauldron up on a racking crook first. Hurry up with the oak."

Fitch sagged with a "Yes, sir." The big split slabs of oak for the roasting hearth were heavy and always gave him splinters. Oak splinters were the worst kind, and would plague him for days after. The apple wasn't so bad, at least. It was going to be a big affair; he knew to bring enough of it.

"And keep your eye out for the butcher's cart. It's due here any minute. I'll wring Inger's neck if he sends it late."

Fitch perked up. "Butcher's cart?" He dared not ask what he wanted to ask. "Would you like me to unload it, then, sir?"

Master Drummond planted his fists on his wide hips. "Don't tell me, Fitch, that you're starting to think ahead?" Nearby, several women working at sauces snorted a laugh. "Of course I want you to unload it! And if you drop any, like the last time, I'll roast your scrawny rump instead."

Fitch bowed twice. "Yes, Master Drummond."

As he withdrew, he moved aside to make way for the dairymaid bringing a sample of cheese for Master Drummond's approval. One of the women saucers snagged Fitch's sleeve before he could be off.

"Where are those skimmers I asked for?"

"Coming, Gillie, as soon as I see to-"

She snatched him by an ear. "Don't patronize me," Gillie growled. She twisted the ear. "Your kind always fall to that, in the end, don't they?"

"No, Gillie-I wasn't-I swear. I have nothing but respect for the Ander people. I daily school my vile nature so there may be no room in my heart or mind for hate or spite, and I pray the Creator gives me strength to transform my flawed soul, and that he burns me for eternity should I fail," he prated by rote. "I'll get the skimmers for you, Gillie. Please, let me get them?"

She shoved his head. "Go on then, and be quick."

Comforting his throbbing ear, Fitch raced to the rack where he'd left the skimmers to dry. He snatched a handful and bore them to Gillie with as much respect as he could muster, considering that Master Drummond was watching out of the corner of his eye, no doubt thinking about beating him for not having the skimmers to Gillie sooner so he could be doing as ordered and have the cauldron hung and the firewood on its way in.