Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [369]
Richard stalked through the blackness, to the tent, and squatted down, making himself still, silent, low to the ground. He listened for a long time to determine if anyone was in the tent with Michael. He heard papers being shuffled, and there was a lamp burning, but he heard no one else inside. Carefully, he made a tiny cut with his knife, just enough to see through. He saw Michael’s left side to him as he sat at a small, collapsible field table, looking over papers. His head of unruly hair was cradled in one hand. The papers didn’t seem to have lines of words on them, and from what Richard could see, they were large. Probably maps.
He had to get inside, stand tall, drop to one knee, and do his salute, before Michael had a chance to raise an alarm. Just inside, below him, was a cot. That was what he needed to hide his entry. Holding the rope taut so the canvas wouldn’t jerk back suddenly, Richard cut the tie down in about the center of where the cot sat, then lifted the edge of the canvas a little and rolled carefully underneath it, behind the cot.
When Michael turned to a sound, Richard rose up in front of the little table, in front of his brother. Richard had a smile on his face at seeing his older brother again. Michael’s head snapped to him. The color left his soft cheeks. He leapt to his feet. Richard was just about to do his salute when Michael spoke.
“Richard… how did you… What are you doing here? It’s… so… good to see you again. We have all been so… worried.”
Richard’s smile withered.
When the enemy web was put on him, Rahl had said those who honored Rahl would see Richard for who he was.
Michael saw him for who he was.
Michael was the one who had betrayed him. Michael was the one who allowed him to be captured and tortured by a Mord-Sith. Michael was the one who would give Kahlan and Zedd over to Darken Rahl. Michael was the one who would give everyone over to Darken Rahl. His insides turned to ice.
Richard could manage no more than a whisper. “Where is the box?”
“Ah… you look hungry, Richard. Let me have some dinner brought in for you. We’ll have a talk. It’s been so long.”
Richard kept his hand away from the sword, for fear he would use it. He sternly reminded himself that he was the Seeker, and that was all that mattered right now. He was not Richard; he was the Seeker. He had a job to do. He could not allow himself to be Richard. He could not allow himself to be Michael’s brother. There were more important things right now. Much more important.
“Where is the box?”
Michael’s eyes darted about. “The box …well… Zedd told me about it.… He was going to give it to me… but then he said something about finding you in D’Hara by a stone of some sort, and the three of them went off after you. I told them I wanted to come too, to save my brother, but I had to get the men together, and prepare, so they started ahead of me. Zedd kept the box. He has it.”
Richard now knew; Darken Rahl had the third box. Darken Rahl had spoken the truth.
The Seeker suppressed his emotions and made a quick assessment of the situation. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Kahlan. If he lost his head now, she would be the one to suffer; she would be the one at the end of an Agiel. He found himself concentrating on a mental image of Denna’s braid. He let himself do it. Whatever worked, he told himself. He couldn’t kill Michael, couldn’t risk being captured by all those men outside. He couldn’t even let Michael know what he knew; that would accomplish nothing, and risk others.
He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Well, as long as the box is safe. That’s what counts.”
Some of the color returned to Michael’s face, bringing with it a smile. “Richard,