Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [246]
His mind raced, as if flipping the pages in his mind’s eye, scanning the words, trying to remember the whole book, trying to remember if Confessor was mentioned again. No, it wasn’t. He knew every word in the book, and Confessor was in it only once, at the beginning. He could remember puzzling over what a Confessor could be. He hadn’t even been sure, before, that it was a person. He felt the weight of the tooth hanging around his neck.
Kahlan frowned at the look on his face. “Do you know what a Confessor is?”
“No,” he managed. “I heard the word before, that’s all… from my father. But I don’t know what it means.” He struggled to regain control of himself. “So, what does it mean, to be a Confessor?”
Kahlan pulled her knees up, hugging her arms around them, withdrawing just a little. “It’s a power, magic power, that is passed from mother to daughter, going back almost as far as there have been the lands, back beyond the dark time.”
Richard didn’t know what the “dark time” was, but didn’t interrupt. “It is something we are born with, magic that is part of us, and cannot be separated from us any more than you could be separated from your heart. Any woman who is a Confessor will bear children who are Confessors. Always. But the power is not the same in all of us; in some it is weaker, in some, stronger.”
“So you can’t get rid of it, even if you wanted to. But what sort of magic is it?”
She looked away, to the fire. “It’s a power invoked by touch. It’s always there, inside us. We don’t bring it out to use it; instead, we must always hold it in, and use it by releasing our grip of it, relaxing our hold and letting it come forth.”
“Sort of like holding your stomach in?”
She smiled at his analogy. “Sort of.”
“And what does this power do?”
She twisted the corner of her cloak. “It does not reveal itself well in words. I never thought it would be this troublesome to explain, but to someone who is not from the Midlands, well, it’s difficult to put into words. I have never had to do this before, and I’m not even sure it can be done, accurately. It’s a little like trying to explain fog to a blind person.”
“Try.”
She nodded and stole a look into his eyes.
“It is the power of love.”
Richard almost laughed. “And I’m supposed to be afraid of the power of love?”
Kahlan’s back stiffened; indignation flared in her eyes: indignation and the kind of timeless look Adie and Shota had flashed him, one that said that his words were disrespectful, that even his small smile was insolent. It was a countenance he was not used to seeing her direct at him. He felt a cold realization that Kahlan was not used to having anyone smile about her power, and who she was. Her look said more to him about her power than any words could have. Whatever her magic was, it was definitely not something to be smiled about. His small grin withered. When she seemed sure he was not about to say anything else flippant, she went on.
“You don’t understand. Do not take it lightly.” Her eyes narrowed. “Once touched by it, you are no longer the person you were. You are changed forever. Forevermore you are devoted to the one who touches you, to the exclusion of all else. What you wanted, what you were, who you were, no longer means anything to you. You would do anything for the one who touches you. Your life is no longer yours, it is hers. Your soul is no longer yours, it is hers. The person you were no longer exists.”
Gooseflesh tingled up his arms. “How long does this, this, magic, whatever it is, how long does it last?”
“As long as the one I touch is alive,” she said evenly.
Richard felt the chill run the rest of the way through him. “So, it’s sort of like you bewitch people?”
She let out a breath. “Not exactly, but if it helps you to understand, I guess you