Running the horse across the plain, Richard looked over his shoulder at the black shape of the People’s Palace atop the plateau, looming up, blotting out an entire quadrant of stars. The cold air against his face made his eyes water. Or else it was his thoughts about Denna. Try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. If it weren’t for Kahlan, and Zedd, he would have killed himself back there—he was hurting that much.

Killing with the sword in anger, out of rage and hate, was horrible. Killing with the sword’s white magic, out of love, was beyond horror. The blade had returned to its polished silver gloss, but he knew how to make it white again. He hoped he would die before that was ever required. He didn’t know if he could ever bring himself to do it again.

And yet, here he was, racing across the night, on his way to find Zedd and Kahlan, to find which of them had betrayed the box to Darken Rahl, had betrayed everyone to Darken Rahl.

The whole thing didn’t make any sense. Why would Rahl use the night stone to trap Zedd, if Zedd was the traitor? And why would he send men after Kahlan, if she was the one? Yet Shota had said each would try to kill him. It had to be one of them. What was he to do? Turn the sword white, and kill both? He knew that was foolish. He would rather die himself first than harm either. But what if Zedd was betraying them, and the only way to save Kahlan would be to kill his old friend? Or what if it was the other way around? Would he still rather die first, then?

The important thing was to stop Rahl. He had to recover the last box. He had to stop wasting his energy thinking about things he couldn’t know. All that mattered was stopping Rahl—then everything else would fall into place. He had found the box once—he would have to find it again.

But how? There was no time. How was he going to find Zedd and Kahlan? He was one man on a horse, and there was a whole country to search. They wouldn’t be traveling by road, not if Chase was with them. Chase would keep them off the roads, well hidden. Richard didn’t know the roads, much less the trails.

This was a fool’s task. There was too much country to search.

Darken Rahl had planted too many doubts in him. Swirling thoughts twisted on themselves, became more and more confusing, hopeless. He felt that his own mind was his worst enemy right now. Richard cleared his mind and chanted the devotion to keep himself from thinking. He smiled at the stupidity of chanting a devotion to a man he wanted to kill, but he chanted anyway as he rode on into the night. Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.

Twice, he walked the horse to rest it, but pushed on hard the rest of the time. The Azrith Plains seemed endless. The flat country, devoid of almost all vegetation, stretched on forever. The chanting helped him keep his mind clear of all thoughts, except one: the horror of killing Denna. That memory he couldn’t shake. Those tears he couldn’t keep back.

Dawn brought him his own shadow to chase. Boulders appeared, looking out of place on the flat ground, casting long shadows of their own. They gathered in numbers as he rode. The terrain began undulating, opening up in gullies, rising in ridges. He rode through narrow passes and rifts, down a canyon with walls of crumbling rock. The road took a bend to the left, with a narrower road to the right. Richard took the horse to the left, remembering what the guard had told him.

Out of the clearness of his mind, a thought came to him. Richard brought the horse to a skidding halt. He looked off down the right road. He thought about it a minute, then pulled the reins to the right, urging the animal on, down the right-hand road.

Darken Rahl had told him he was free to go where he pleased.

He had even let him have a horse so he might go where he wished. Maybe Darken Rahl wouldn’t mind if Richard borrowed his dragon.

Letting the horse pick its own way, he watched carefully all about, resting his hand on the hilt of the sword. Surely a red dragon wouldn’t be hard to spot. There was no sound but the horse’s hooves on the hard ground. Richard didn’t know how far it was, and rode for a long time among the rubble of boulders on the canyon floor. He began to worry that the dragon was gone, that maybe Rahl himself was riding it somewhere. Maybe to get the box. He didn’t know if his present course was a good idea, but it was the only idea he could think of.

A blinding burst of fire erupted with a deafening roar. The horse reared. Richard leapt off, landed on his feet, and scrambled behind a boulder as the air was filled with flying stones and fire. Shards of rock ricocheted past his head. He heard the horse thud to the ground and smelled burnt hair. It screamed a terrible neigh until there was a snapping of bones. Richard crouched tighter against the rock, afraid to look.

As he listened to the periodic roar of fire, the breaking of bones, the ripping of flesh, Richard decided that this had been a very stupid idea. He could hardly believe the dragon was so well hidden that he hadn’t even seen it. He wondered if it had seen him dive behind the boulder. At least for the moment, it didn’t seem so. He searched about for a way to escape, but the terrain was too open to run without being seen. The sound of the horse being eaten made his stomach turn. At last it ended. He wondered if dragons took naps after they ate. There were a few snorts. The snorts came closer. Richard tried to make himself smaller.

Talons rasped over the boulder he was hiding behind and lifted it right off the ground, tossing it aside. Richard looked up into piercing yellow eyes. Almost everything else was an intense red. The head, with flexible black-tipped spikes around the base of the jaw and on the back of its skull behind the ears, was at the end of a long, thick neck rising from an immense body. The sinewy tail terminated in black-tipped spikes, like the ones on the head, only stiff and hard. The tail swished idly, pushing rocks aside. As it flexed its wings, powerful muscles rippled beneath the glossy, red interlocking scales on its shoulders. Razor-sharp teeth, stained red from its recent meal, sprouted just inside the snarling lips and lined the long muzzle. The beast snorted. Smoke rose from nostrils at the end of the tapered snout.

“What have we here?” came a decidedly female voice. “A tasty treat?”

Richard sprang to his feet and drew the sword, sending its ring into the air.

“I need your help.”

“Only too glad to help you, little man. But not until after I eat you.”

“I’m warning you, stay back! This sword has magic.”

“Magic!” the dragon gasped in mock fright. It put a claw to its breast. “Oh, please, brave man, don’t slay me with your magic sword!” It made a smoky rumble that Richard took for laughter.

Richard kept the sword out, but felt suddenly foolish. “You intend to eat me, than?”

“Well, I must admit, more for the amusement than the taste.”

“I had heard red dragons were an independent sort, but that you are little more than a lapdog to Darken Rahl.” A ball of flame boiled from the mouth, rising into the air. “I thought you might like to be free of your bonds, and be independent once more.”

The head, bigger than he, Richard was frightened to note, came closer, to within a few yards. Its ears swiveled forward. A glossy red tongue, split at the end like a snake’s, slithered out toward him, making a curious investigation. Richard held the sword out of the way as the tongue raked up his body from his crotch to his throat. It was a gentle touch, for a dragon, yet it knocked him back a few steps.

“And how would a little man like you be able to do that?”

“I’m trying to stop Darken Rahl, kill him. If you helped me, then you would be free.”