There was more confused discussion, then John spoke up, angry. “We mean to say you’re a warlock, and we intend to have your hide for it!”

“My, my, my,” Zedd said, tapping his lower lip thoughtfully with the tip of his finger. “Why, I had no idea you men were so brave. So very brave indeed.”

“How’s that?” John asked.

Zedd shrugged. “Well, what is it you think a warlock capable of?”

There was more talk among themselves. They started shouting out suggestions. He could make two-headed cows, make the rains come, find people who were lost, make children be stillborn, make strong men weak and make their women leave them. Somehow this didn’t seem to be sufficient, so more ideas were shouted out. Make water burn, turn people into cripples, change a man into a toad, kill with a look, call upon demons, and in general, everything else.

Zedd waited until they were done, and then held his arms out to them. “There you have it. Just as I said, you men are the bravest fellows I have ever seen! To think, armed only with pitchforks and axe handles, you come to do battle with a warlock who has these kinds of powers. My, my, how brave.” His voice trailed off. Zedd shook his head in wonderment. Worry started to break out in the crowd.

Zedd went on, in a drawn-out, monotonous tone, suggesting the things a warlock could do, describing in great detail a variety of deeds from the frivolous to the terrifying. The men stood, transfixed, listening in rapt attention. He went on and on for a good half hour. Richard and Kahlan listened, shifting their weight as they became bored and tired. The eyes of the mob were wide, unblinking. They stood like statues, the dancing flames from their torches the only motion among the men.

The mood had changed. There was no longer anger. Now there was fear. The wizard’s voice changed, too—no longer kind and gentle, or even dull, it was harsh and threatening.

“And so, men, what do you think it is we should do now?”

“We think you should let us go home, unharmed,” came the weak reply. The others nodded with agreement.

The wizard waggled a long finger in the air in front of them. “No, I don’t think so. You see, you men came here to kill me. My life is the most precious thing I have, and you intended to take it from me. I can’t let that go unpunished.” Quaking and fear swept through the crowd. Zedd stepped to the edge of the porch. The men took a step back. “As punishment for trying to take my life, I take from you, not your life, but that which is most precious, most dear, most valuable!” With a flourish, he swept his hand dramatically over their heads. They gasped. “There. It is done,” he declared. Richard and Kahlan, who had been leaning against the house, stood up straight.

For a moment no one moved—then a fellow in the midst of the mob thrust his hand into his pocket and felt around. “My gold. It’s gone.”

Zedd rolled his eyes. “No, no, no. I said the most precious, the most dear. That which you pride above all else.”

Everyone stood a moment, confused. Then a few eyebrows went up in alarm. Another man suddenly thrust his hand into his pocket and felt around, eyes wide in fright. He moaned and then fainted. The ones near by drew back from him. Soon others were putting their hands in their pockets, cautiously feeling around. There were more moans and wails, and soon all the men were grabbing at their crotches in a panic. Zedd smiled in satisfaction. Pandemonium broke out among the mob. Men were jumping up and down, crying, grabbing at themselves, running around in little circles, asking for help, falling on the ground, and sobbing.

“Now, you men get out of here! Leave!” Zedd yelled. He turned to Richard and Kahlan—an impish grin on his face wrinkled his nose. He winked at them both.

“Please, Zedd!” a few men called out. “Please don’t leave us like this! Please help us!” There were pleas all around. Zedd waited a few moments and turned back to them.

“What’s this? Do you men think I have been too harsh?” He asked with mock wonder and sincerity. There was quick agreement that he had been. “And why do you think this? Have you learned something?”

“Yes!” John yelled. “We realize now that Richard was right. You have been our friend. You have never done anything to harm any of us.” Everyone shouted their agreement. “You have only helped us, and we acted stupidly. We want to ask your forgiveness. We know, just like Richard said, that we were wrong, that using magic doesn’t make you bad. Please, Zedd, don’t stop being our friend now. Please don’t leave us like this.” There were more pleas shouted out.

Zedd tapped a finger on his bottom lip. “Well—” He looked up, thinking. “—I guess I could put things back to the way they were.” The men moved closer. “But only if you all agree to my terms. I think them quite fair, though.” They were ready to agree to anything. “All right, then, if you agree to tell anyone who speaks up, from now on, that magic doesn’t make a person bad—that their actions are what count—and if you go home to your families and tell them you almost made a terrible mistake tonight, and why you were wrong, then you will all be restored. Fair?”

There was nodding from everyone. “More than fair,” John said “Thank you, Zedd.” The men turned and began to leave, quickly. Zedd stood and watched.

“Oh, gentlemen, one more thing.” They froze. “Please pick up your tools from the ground. I’m an old man. I could easily trip and hurt myself.” They kept a cautious eye to him as they reached out and snatched up their weapons—then turned and walked a ways before breaking into a run.

Richard came and waited to one side of Zedd, Kahlan to the other. Zedd stood with his hands on his bony hips, watching the men go. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. It was dark. The only light came from the front window of the house behind them, and Richard could barely see Zedd’s face, but he could see it well enough to see he wasn’t smiling. “My friends,” the old man said, “that was a stew stirred by a hidden hand.”

“Zedd,” Kahlan asked, diverting her eyes from his face, “did you really make… well, you know, make their manhood vanish?”

Zedd chuckled. “That would be quite the magic! Beyond me, I’m afraid. No, dear one, I only tricked them into thinking I had. Simply convinced them of the truth of it, let their own minds do the work.”

Richard turned to the wizard. “A trick? It was just a trick? I thought you had done real magic.” He seemed somehow disappointed.

Zedd shrugged. “Sometimes if a trick is done properly, it can work better than magic. In fact, I would go so far as to say a good trick is real magic.”

“But still, it was just a trick.”

The wizard held up a finger. “Results, Richard. That’s what counts. Your way, those men would have all lost their heads.”

Richard grinned. “Zedd, I think some of them would have preferred that over what you did to them.” Zedd chuckled. “So is that what you wanted us to watch and learn? That a trick can work as well as magic?”

“Yes, but also something more important. As I said, this was a stew stirred by a hidden hand, the hand of Darken Rahl. But he has made a mistake tonight—it is a mistake to use insufficient force to finish the job. In so doing, you give your enemy a second chance. That is the lesson I want you to learn. Learn it well—you may not get a second chance when your time comes.”

Richard frowned. “I wonder why he did it then?”

Zedd shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t have enough power in this land yet, but then it also was a mistake to try, because it only served to warn us.”

They started toward the door. There was a lot of work to do before they could sleep. Richard began going through the list in his head but was distracted by an odd feeling.

Suddenly, realization washed over him like cold water. Richard inhaled in a gasp. He spun around, eyes wide, and grabbed a fistful of Zedd’s robes.