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Faith of the Fallen :: Goodkind Terry
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"That would be best," Kahlan agreed. "It will get our men out of harm's way for now."
"They won't have me to be the magic against magic for them, but they will have Verna and her Sisters. They know enough by now to carry on protecting the army from magic."
At least for a while. The words hung in the air, unspoken.
"I want to go see Verna before I leave," Kahlan said. "I think it will be good for her to have other people to worry about. Then I want to see General Meiffert; and then we'd best start riding. We have a long way to go, and I want to be south before the snow hobbles us."
Kahlan embraced Zedd fiercely one last time.
"When you see him," Zedd whispered in her ear, "tell the boy I love him dearly, and I miss him something awful."
Kahlan nodded against his shoulder, and told him a bold lie.
"You'll see us both again, Zedd. I promise you."
Kahlan stepped out into the early light of winter's first breath.
Everything was dusted with snow, making it look as if the world were carvedfrom white marble.
CHAPTER 63
In one long fluid motion, with his fingertips adeptly guiding the far end of the file, Richard glided the steel tool down the fold of cloth held forever crisp in white marble. Concentrating on applying steady pressure to cut a precise, fine layer, he was lost in the work.
The file held hundreds of ridges, row upon row of tiny blades of hardened steel, which did the work of cutting away and shaping the noble stone. These were blades he wielded with the same commitment with which he wielded any blade. He blindly reached back and set the file down on the wooden bench, careful to put it on the wood and not to let it clang against other steel, lest he dull it prematurely. He exchanged the file for another, with even finer teeth, and took out the roughness left by the correction accomplished with the one before.
With fingers as dusty-white as those of a baker laboring with flour, Richard examined the surface of the man's arm, testing it for flaws. Until polished, the minor flaws and facets were often easier to see with the fingers than the eye. Where he found them, he used a smaller file in one hand, while his other hand followed behind, riding the swell of muscle, feeling the subtle difference in what the tool had done to the stone. He was removing only paper-thin layers of material, now.
It had taken him several months to arrive at this final layer. It was exhilarating to be so close to the flesh.
"That would be best," Kahlan agreed. "It will get our men out of harm's way for now."
"They won't have me to be the magic against magic for them, but they will have Verna and her Sisters. They know enough by now to carry on protecting the army from magic."
At least for a while. The words hung in the air, unspoken.
"I want to go see Verna before I leave," Kahlan said. "I think it will be good for her to have other people to worry about. Then I want to see General Meiffert; and then we'd best start riding. We have a long way to go, and I want to be south before the snow hobbles us."
Kahlan embraced Zedd fiercely one last time.
"When you see him," Zedd whispered in her ear, "tell the boy I love him dearly, and I miss him something awful."
Kahlan nodded against his shoulder, and told him a bold lie.
"You'll see us both again, Zedd. I promise you."
Kahlan stepped out into the early light of winter's first breath.
Everything was dusted with snow, making it look as if the world were carvedfrom white marble.
CHAPTER 63
In one long fluid motion, with his fingertips adeptly guiding the far end of the file, Richard glided the steel tool down the fold of cloth held forever crisp in white marble. Concentrating on applying steady pressure to cut a precise, fine layer, he was lost in the work.
The file held hundreds of ridges, row upon row of tiny blades of hardened steel, which did the work of cutting away and shaping the noble stone. These were blades he wielded with the same commitment with which he wielded any blade. He blindly reached back and set the file down on the wooden bench, careful to put it on the wood and not to let it clang against other steel, lest he dull it prematurely. He exchanged the file for another, with even finer teeth, and took out the roughness left by the correction accomplished with the one before.
With fingers as dusty-white as those of a baker laboring with flour, Richard examined the surface of the man's arm, testing it for flaws. Until polished, the minor flaws and facets were often easier to see with the fingers than the eye. Where he found them, he used a smaller file in one hand, while his other hand followed behind, riding the swell of muscle, feeling the subtle difference in what the tool had done to the stone. He was removing only paper-thin layers of material, now.
It had taken him several months to arrive at this final layer. It was exhilarating to be so close to the flesh.