“Hard to be Mother Confessor. Sorry.”

“Hard,” Kahlan agreed.

“Much on your shoulders.”

“Much,” Kahlan agreed again.

The night wisp landed lightly on the woman’s shoulder and rested there quietly while Kahlan watched the fire glow with small slow flames. After a time the night wisp rose from her shoulder and floated to a spot in the air in front of her.

“Wish to stay with you more. Good times. Wish to stay with Richard Cypher. Asks good questions. But I cannot hold on longer. Sorry. I die.”

“You have my word, Shar, that I will give my own life, if necessary, to stop Darken Rahl. To save your kind and the others.”

“I believe in you, Confessor Kahlan. Help Richard.” Shar came closer. “Please. Before I die. Touch me?”

Kahlan pushed herself away from the wisp until her back was against the trunk of the tree. “No… please… no,” she implored, shaking her head. “Don’t ask me to do that.” Her eyes filled with tears again. She put her trembling fingers to her lips, trying to hold back the crying.

Shar came forward. “Please, Mother Confessor. I feel such pain of aloneness away from the others. I will never share their company again. It hurts so. I pass now. Please. Use your power. Touch me and let me drink in the sweet agony. Let me die with the taste of love. I have forfeited my life to help you. I have asked nothing else of you. Please?”

Shar’s light was growing dimmer, fainter. Kahlan, crying, held her left hand over her mouth. At last, she reached out with her right hand, until her trembling fingers touched the wisp.

All about there was thunder but no sound. The violent impact to the air jolted the wayward pine, causing a rain of dead needles, some flaring when they touched the fire. Shar’s dim silvery color changed to a pink glow, growing in intensity.

Shar’s voice was faint. “Thank you, Kahlan. Good-bye, my love.”

The spark of light and life faded and was gone.

After the thunder without sound, Richard waited for a time before he returned to her. Kahlan sat with her arms around her legs and her chin resting on her knees as she stared into the fire.

“Shar?” he asked.

“She is gone,” came the answer in a distant voice.

He nodded and, taking her arm, led her to the mat of dry grass and laid her down. She went without resistance or comment. He put the blanket over her and piled on some of the dry grass to help keep her warm through the night, then burrowed himself into it next to her. Kahlan turned on her side, away from him, and pushed her shoulders back against him the way a child would put its back to a parent when peril approached. He sensed it, too. Something was coming for them. Something deadly.

Already, she was asleep. He knew he should feel cold, but he didn’t. His hand throbbed. He felt warm. Richard lay there, thinking about the thunder without sound. He wondered what she would do to make the great wizard do what she wanted. The idea frightened him. Before he could worry more he, too, was asleep.

By noon the next day, Richard knew the bite of the vine was bringing on a fever. He had no appetite. At times he was unbearably hot, sweat making his clothes stick to his skin—then he would shiver with chills. His head pounded in a way that made him sick to his stomach. There was nothing he could do about it, except seek Zedd’s help, and since they were nearly there he decided not to tell Kahlan. Dreams had troubled his sleep, whether from the fever or the things he had learned, he didn’t know. What Shar had told him was the most disturbing: seek the answer or die.

The sky was thinly overcast, the cold gray light foretelling the coming of winter. Trees grown large and close held back the breeze and its chill, making the trail a quiet sanctuary filled with the aromatic fragrance of balsam fir: a refuge from winter’s breath above.

Crossing a small brook near a beaver pond, they came upon a patch of late wildflowers, their yellow and pale blue blossoms blanketing the ground in a sparsely wooded hollow. Kahlan stopped to pick some. Finding a scoop-shaped piece of dead wood, she started arranging the flowers within the hollow of the wood. Richard thought she must be hungry. He found an apple tree he knew to be nearby and filled his pack half full while she bent to her task. It was always a good idea to bring food when going to see Zedd.

Richard finished before Kahlan, and waited, leaning against a log, wondering what she was doing. When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she lifted the hem of her dress and knelt beside the pond, floating the wood out onto the water. She sat back on her boots with her hands folded in her lap, watching for a time as the small raft of flowers drifted out onto the quiet water. When she turned and saw him leaning against the log, she stood and joined him.

“An offering to the spirits of our two mothers,” she explained. “To ask their protection and help in finding the wizard.” Kahlan looked to his face, and concern came over her features. “Richard, what’s wrong?”

He held out an apple. “Nothing. Here, eat this.”

She slapped his hand away and in a blink had him by the throat with her other hand. Anger flared in her green eyes. “Why would you do this?” she demanded.

Shock raced through his mind. He went rigid. Something told him not to move. “Don’t you like apples? I’m sorry, I’ll find you something else to eat.”

The fury in her eyes faltered, changing to doubt. “What did you call them?”

“Apples,” he said, still not moving. “Don’t you know what apples are? They’re good to eat, I promise. What did you think they were?”

Her hand loosened its grip a little. “You eat these… apples?”

Richard kept himself still. “Yes. All the time.”

Embarrassment replaced her anger. She released his throat and put her fingers over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. “Richard, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you could eat these things. In the Midlands, any red fruit is deadly poison. I thought you meant to poison me.”

Richard laughed as the tension went out in a rush. Kahlan laughed, too, while protesting that it wasn’t funny. He took a bite to show her, then offered her another. This time she took it, but looked at it long and hard before taking a bite.

“Umm, these things are good to eat.” Kahlan’s brow wrinkled. She put her hand on his forehead. “I thought there was something wrong. You are burning with fever.”

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do until we get to Zedd’s. We’re almost there.”

Zedd’s squat house came into sight a short distance farther up the trail. A single plank from the sod-covered roof served as a ramp for his old cat, who was better at getting up than down. White lace curtains hung on the inside of the windows, flower boxes on the outside. The flowers had dried and wilted with the passing of the season. The log walls were dull gray with age, but a bright blue door greeted visitors. Other than the door, the whole place gave the appearance of hunkering into the grasses surrounding it, of trying to go unnoticed. The house wasn’t large, but it did have a porch running the length of the front.

Zedd’s “reason” chair was empty. The reason chair was where Zedd sat and thought until he figured out the reason for whatever it was that had snagged his curiosity. He had once sat in the chair for three days straight, trying to figure out why people were always arguing over how many stars there were. He himself didn’t care. He thought the question trivial, and he only wondered why people spent so much time debating the subject. At last he stood and pronounced that it was because anyone could express his profound conviction on the subject without fear of being proven wrong, as it was impossible to know the answer. Such fools simply didn’t have to worry about contradiction when proclaiming expertise. Having settled the matter, Zedd then went in the house and ate in earnest for three solid hours.