The First Confessor by Terry Goodkind Read Free Book Online

his audacity, he was a man to be trusted.
    As Magda made her way toward the doors to her room, the grim soldiers spread out to take up stations up and down the hall.
    She glanced back over her shoulder. “Are you expecting trouble, here, in the Keep, Lord Rahl?”
    “From what I’ve seen,” he said cryptically, “the Keep is no safer than anywhere else these days.”
    Magda frowned. “And what have you seen, if I may ask?”
    “Three of my men have died since we recently arrived.”
    Magda halted and turned back to take in his grim expression. “Died? Here in the Keep? How?”
    He hooked a thumb behind his weapons belt. “One was found in a corridor, dead from over a hundred stab wounds. Another died in his sleep for no reason we could find. The third suffered a mysterious fall from a high wall.”
    Magda had almost had such a fall. She still felt strangely disoriented, as if she were only now escaping the grip of a terrifying, otherworldly nightmare, rather than simply a grief-stricken moment of weakness.
    “Perhaps the man who was stabbed had gotten into a fight with the wrong people over something?” she suggested.
    “All three can be explained away if you try hard enough,” he said, making it obvious that he didn’t buy the easy explanations.
    Magda worked to gather her composure as she started out once more, making her way past the looming, silent soldiers watching her. She didn’t like to think of the Keep as a place where danger lurked. Yet Baraccus, too, had been troubled by what he had thought to be suspicious deaths at the Keep.
    Besides that, the Keep was, after all, the place where her husband had died as well. The silent Keep had almost watched her follow him to a grisly death on the rocks below.
    She was beginning to grasp that there was more to her husband’s death than it had at first appeared. It no longer seemed a simple suicide. The note in her pocket, his last message to her, certainly made it clear enough that there was something more going on beneath the surface.
    With all the people living and working at the Keep, and with the war going on, to say nothing of the gifted working with profoundly dangerous magic in an effort to create weapons they could use to turn back the horde from the Old World, it wasn’t exactly surprising that people at the Keep would die. Lord Rahl’s three men were not the only unexplained deaths she’d heard about. But still, even healthy infants died unexpectedly from time to time.
    Such deaths didn’t prove that something evil was going on within the walls of the Keep, though she knew that there were those who believed as much. Death, though, was a part of life. There could not be life without death always shadowing it.
    Magda unlocked the heavy doors and spread them wide in invitation as she entered. The two big guards followed Lord Rahl into the room, then closed the doors and took up stations to either side, feet spread, hands clasped behind their backs.
    Magda gestured toward the two men. “I thought you said that you wanted to speak privately.”
    Alric Rahl glanced back at the men and caught her meaning. “We are speaking privately. These are my personal bodyguards.”
    “A wizard who needs muscle?”
    “Magic does not ensure safety, Lady Searus. Surely your husband must have told you as much.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “In a land of blind men, sight is an advantage. But when everyone can see, your eyesight offers no special benefit. Among the gifted, the ability to bend magic to your will is not a weapon that makes you exceptional, much less invincible. Magic can be countered by the magic others possess, so having the gift does not in itself make one all-powerful, or necessarily safe.”
    Alric Rahl turned and cast a hand out, bringing flame to the wicks of several lamps on nearby tables and half a dozen candles in an iron stand. “Not to say that it doesn’t have its uses.”
    With the added light to aid him, he strolled deeper into the quiet