Darken Rahl stared off at nothing in particular, and nodded absently. After a time he took another deep breath and strode through the door, with Demmin at his side, and the remaining guard following at a respectful distance. They went down long corridors of polished granite lit by torches, up spiral stairs of white stone, down more corridors with windows that let the light out into the darkness. The stone smelled damp, stale. Several levels up, the air regained its freshness. Small tables of lustrous wood stationed at intervals along the halls held vases with bouquets of fresh flowers that lent a light fragrance to the rooms.

As they came to a pair of doors with a scene of hillsides and forests carved in relief, the second guard rejoined them, the task assigned him completed. Demmin pulled on the iron rings, and the heavy doors opened smoothly, silently. Beyond was a room of dark, brown oak panels. It gleamed in the light of the candles and lamps set about on heavy tables. Books lined two walls, and an immense fireplace warmed the two-story room. Rahl stopped for a short time to consult an old leather-bound book sitting on a pedestal—then he and his commander walked on through a labyrinth of rooms, most covered in the same warm wood panels. A few were plastered and painted with scenes of the D’Hara countryside, forests and fields, game and children. The guards followed at a distance, watching everywhere, alert but silent: the Master’s shadows.

Logs crackled and popped as flames wavered in a brick hearth, providing the only light in one of the smaller rooms they passed into. On the walls hung trophies of the hunt, heads of every sort of beast. Antlers jutted out, lit by the light of the flames. Darken Rahl stopped suddenly in midstride, his robes made pink in the firelight.

“Again,” he whispered.

Demmin had stopped when Rahl did, and now watched him with questioning eyes.

“Again she comes to the boundary. To the underworld.” He licked his fingertips, smoothing them carefully over his lips and eyebrows as his eyes fixed in a stare.

“Who?” Demmin asked.

“The Mother Confessor. Kahlan. She has the help of a wizard, you know.”

“Giller is with the queen,” Demmin insisted, “not with the Mother Confessor.”

A thin smile spread on Darken Rahl’s lips. “Not Giller,” he whispered, “the Old One. The one I seek. The one who killed my father. She has found him.”

Demmin stood straight in surprise. Rahl turned and walked over to the window at the end of the room. Made up of small panes and round at the top, it stood twice his height. Firelight glinted off the curved knife at his belt. Clasping his hands behind him, he stood gazing down on the darkened countryside, on the night, on the things others couldn’t see. He turned back to Demmin, his blond hair brushing his shoulders.

“That is why she went to Westland, you know. Not to run from the quad, as you thought, but to find the great wizard.” His blue eyes sparkled. “She has done me a great favor, my friend—she has flushed out the wizard. It is fortunate she slipped past the ones in the underworld. Fate is truly on our side. You see, Demmin, why I tell you not to worry so? It is my destiny to succeed—all things have a way of working toward my ends.”

Demmin’s brow knitted into a frown. “Just because one quad failed, that does not mean she has found the wizard. Quads have failed before.”

Rahl slowly licked his fingertips. He stepped closer to the big man. “The Old One has named a Seeker,” he whispered.

Demmin unclasped his hands in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Rahl nodded. “The old wizard vowed never to help them again. No one has seen him in many years. No one has been able to offer his name, even to save their own lives. Now the Confessor crosses into Westland, the quad vanishes, and a Seeker is named.” He smiled to himself. “She must have touched him, to make him help. Imagine his surprise when he saw her.” Rahl’s smile faded. He clenched his fists. “I almost had them. Almost had all three, but I was distracted by other matters, and they slipped away. For the time being.” He considered this silently for a moment, then announced, “The second quad will fail too, you know. They will not be expecting to encounter a wizard.”

“Then I will send a third quad, and I will tell them of the wizard,” Demmin promised.

“No.” Rahl licked his fingertips, thinking. “Not yet. For now, let’s wait and see what happens. Maybe she is meant to help me again.” He considered this a moment. “Is she attractive? The Mother Confessor?”

Demmin scowled. “I have never seen her, but some of my men have. They fought over who would be named to the quads, who would have her.”

“Don’t send another quad for now.” Darken Rahl smiled. “It is time I had an heir.” He nodded absently. “I will have her for myself,” he declared.

“If she tries to go through the boundary, she will be lost,” Demmin cautioned.

Rahl shrugged. “Maybe she will be smarter than that. She has already shown herself to be clever. Either way, I will have her.” He glanced over at Demmin. “Either way, she will squirm for me.”

“The two of them are dangerous, the wizard and the Mother Confessor. They could cause us trouble. Confessors subvert the word of Rahl—they are an annoyance. I think we should do as you first planned. We should kill her.”

Rahl gave a wave of his hand. “You worry too much, Demmin. As you said, Confessors are an annoyance, nothing more. I will kill her myself, if she proves troublesome, but after she bears me a son. A Confessor son. The wizard cannot harm me, as he did my father. I will see him squirm and then I will kill him. Slowly.”

“And the Seeker?” Demmin’s face was lined with apprehension.

Rahl shrugged. “Even less than an annoyance.”

“Lord Rahl, I need not remind you, winter approaches.”

The Master lifted an eyebrow, the firelight flickering in his eyes. “The Queen has the last box. I will have it soon enough. There is no need for concern.”

Demmin leaned his grim face closer. “And the book?”

Rahl took a deep breath. “After I have traveled to the underworld, I will search out the Cypher boy again. Worry yourself of it no more, my friend. Fate is on our side.”

He turned and walked off. Demmin followed, the guards slipping through the shadows behind.

The Garden of Life was a cavernous room in the center of the People’s Palace. Leaded windows high overhead let in light for the lush plants. This night they let in the moonlight. Around the outside of the room were flowers set in beds, with walkways winding through. Beyond the flowers were small trees, short stone walls with vines covering them, and well-tended plants completing the landscaping. Except for the windows overhead, it mimicked an outdoor garden. A place of beauty. A place of peace.

In the center of the expansive room was an area of lawn that swept around almost into a circle, the grass ring broken by a wedge of white stone, upon which sat a slab of granite, smooth but for grooves carved near the edge of the top, leading to a small well in one corner. It was held up by two short fluted pedestals. Beyond the slab stood a polished stone block set next to a fire pit. The block held an ancient iron bowl covered with beasts which served as legs to support the round bottom. The iron lid in the same half-sphere shape had but one beast upon it, a Shinga, an underworld creature, reared up on its two hind legs, serving as a handle. In the center of the lawn lay a round area of white sorcerer’s sand, ringed with torches that burned with fluid flames. Geometric symbols crisscrossed in the white sand.

In the center of the sand was the boy, buried in an upright position to his neck.

Darken Rahl approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. Demmin waited off by the trees, before the grass. The Master stopped at the border of the grass and white sand, looking down at the boy. Darken Rahl smiled.