Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [113]
Richard handed it respectfully to Adie. “What makes the rattle?”
Without looking up, she said, “Dried eyes.”
Adie shook the bone rattle gently from side to side over the heads of Zedd and Chase while mumbling a chant in the strange language in which she had spoken to Kahlan. The rattle made a hollow, wooden sound. Kahlan sat cross-legged next to her, head bowed. Richard stood back and watched.
After ten or fifteen minutes, Adie motioned with her hand for him to come closer. Zedd suddenly sat up and opened his eyes. Richard realized she wanted him to give him water. She continued to chant as he dipped the ladle in and held it up to Zedd’s mouth. He drank thirstily. Richard was thrilled to see the old man sit up and open his eyes, even if he couldn’t talk, even if he didn’t know where he was. Zedd drank half a bucket of water. When finished, he lay back down and closed his eyes. Chase was next, and he drank the other half of the water.
Adie handed Richard the bone rattle and asked him to return it to the shelf. Next she had him bring the bone pile from the corner and stack half over Zedd’s body, half over Chase’s, directing him on how to place each bone, to some alignment that only she could see or understand. Finally she had him stack rib bones in a wagon-wheel pattern with the hub centered over each man’s chest. When he finished, she complimented him on doing a fine job, but he felt no pride, because she had directed his hand at each turn. Adie looked up at him with her white eyes.
“Can you cook?”
Richard thought about the time Kahlan had told him that his spice soup was like hers, and that their two lands were much the same. Adie was from the Midlands; maybe she would like something from her homeland. He smiled at her.
“I would be honored to make you some spice soup.”
She put her hands together in a swoon. “That would be wonderful. I have not had a proper spice soup in years.”
Richard went to the opposite corner of the room and sat at the table, cutting up vegetables and mixing spices. For over an hour, as he worked, he watched the two women sitting on the floor, talking in the strange language. Two women catching up on the news from home, he thought happily. He was in a good mood; someone was finally doing something to help Zedd and Chase. Someone who knew what the problem was. When he was finished and had the soup on the fire, he didn’t want to disturb them—they looked like they were enjoying themselves—so he asked Adie if he could cut some firewood for her. She seemed pleased by the idea.
He went outside and removed the tooth from around his neck, putting it in his pocket, and left his shirt on the porch to keep it dry. He took the sword with him to the back of the house, where Adie had told him he would find the firewood pile. Placing logs on the sawbuck, he cut off pieces to length. Most of the wood was birch, easiest for an old woman to cut. He picked out the rock maple, excellent firewood but tough cutting. The woods nearby were dark and dense, but they didn’t feel threatening. They felt welcoming, enveloping, safe. Still, there was the last man of the quad out there somewhere, hunting Kahlan.
He thought about Michael, hoped he was safe. Michael didn’t know what Richard was doing and probably wondered where he was. He was probably worried. Richard had planned on going to Michael’s house after they left Zedd’s place, but there had been no time. Rahl had almost caught them. He wished he had been able to get word to his brother. Michael was going to be in great danger when the boundary failed.
When he tired of sawing, he split what he had cut. It felt good to use his muscles, to sweat from labor, to do something that didn’t require him to think. The cool rain felt good on his hot body, making the work easier. To amuse himself, he imagined the wood was Darken Rahl’s head as he brought the axe down. For variation he sometimes imagined it to be a gar. When the piece of wood