THE FIRST CONFESSOR
The Legend of Magda Searus
Books by Terry Goodkind
THE LEGEND OF MAGDA SEARUS
The First Confessor
RICHARD AND KAHLAN
The Omen Machine
THE SWORD OF TRUTH
Wizard’s First Rule
Stone of Tears
Blood of the Fold
Temple of the Winds
Soul of the Fire
Faith of the Fallen
The Pillars of Creation
Naked Empire
Chainfire
Phantom
Confessor
CONTEMPORARY FICTION
The Law of Nines
We Appreciate Your Support
This novel is an Author self-published release. It is supported directly by you, the reader. Your purchase is vital to the success of this novel and our ability to continue offering these stories.
Thank you for purchasing The First Confessor.
CONTENT PIRACY
Are you considering (or have you already) downloaded one of our books and did not pay for it? Tell us why and let us know what we could do differently instead. Honest question. We have our eyes and ears open. Stealing/pirating this content is not strictly a moral issue. Our extended concern is with quality control, provisioning updates and supplemental content, providing fixes, book enhancements, and sub-versioning control, consideration of the work we have produced, supporting our self-release endeavor, compensating the people that have worked to support us, and enabling us to continue providing stories.
You are vital to this chain and we appreciate your concern.
This is a work of fiction.
All the characters portrayed in this book
are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
THE FIRST CONFESSOR: THE LEGEND OF MAGDA SEARUS
Copyright © 2012 by Terry Goodkind
ISBN-10: 0615651011, ISBN-13: 978-0-615-65101-9
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book,
or portions thereof, in any form. First Edition: July 2012.
terrygoodkind.com
facebook.com/terrygoodkind
terrygoodkindstore.com
vimeo.com/terrygoodkind
If you have a question, comment, or correction, please emaiclass="underline"
officialterrygoodkind@gmail.com
Dedication
To one of my best friends, Rob Anderson, whose support and encouragement have been invaluable in making this book possible. Besides being one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, he is also a man of tremendous integrity, scrupulous honesty, and boundless enthusiasm. His considerable talents have brought stunning visual imagery to my words and a beautiful social environment for friends of my books and visitors alike. His deep appreciation for both my work and my readers keeps him working tirelessly behind the scenes to create cool things that bring people closer to me and the books than was ever possible before. We are all indebted to him.
This one’s for you, Rob.
Chapter 1
“I have heard it told,” the old woman confided, “that there be those walking among us who can do more than merely speak with the dead.”
Coming out of her distracted thoughts, Magda Searus frowned up at the woman leaning in close over her shoulder. The woman’s intent expression drew heavy creases across her broad, flat brow.
“What are you talking about, Tilly?”
The woman’s faded blue eyes turned to check the shadowed corners of the gloomy room. “Down in the lower reaches of the Keep, where those with exceptional talents go about their dark work, it is said that there be gifted among them who can speak with souls beyond the veil of life, those souls now in the world of the dead.”
Magda placed her trembling fingers on the creases in her own brow. “Tilly, you should know better than to believe such gossip.”
Tilly’s gaze again lifted to search the somber room lit only by thin streamers of light coming in the slits between the ill-fitting, warped shutters. The narrow slices of light revealed specks of dust floating almost motionless above the heavy wooden worktable set hard up against the stone wall.
The table bore the age-softened evidence of dark stains, cuts, and scars collected over centuries of varied use. The edges of the thick top had been irregularly rounded over and worn smooth by the touch of countless hands that had over the passage of time given the wood a polished, chestnut-colored patina.
Sitting at the table, facing the shuttered windows, Magda stared down into memories held in a small silver box sitting alone before her as she thought of all that was lost to her.
Everything was lost to her.
“Not mere gossip,” Tilly said softly, compassionately. “A friend I trust works in the nether reaches of the Keep. She knows things, sees things. She says that some of those whose work it is to know about the world of the dead have not merely spoken to those passed on, but have done more.”
“More?” Magda couldn’t bring herself to look up from the memories in the box. “What are you saying?”
“My friend says that the gifted down there may even have ways to bring people back from the world of the dead. What I’m saying is that maybe you could have him brought back.”
Elbows on the table, Magda pressed her fingertips to her temples as she struggled to keep the tears from springing anew. She stared down at a dried flower he had once given her, a rare white flower he had climbed all day to retrieve. He had called her his young, fierce flower and said that only such a rare and beautiful thing befit her.
So why would he choose to abandon her in this way?
“Brought back? From the dead?” Magda slowly shook her head as she sighed. “Dear spirits, Tilly, what has gotten into you?”
The woman set down her wooden pail and let the washrag she was holding slip into the soapy water. She leaned down a bit more, as if to make sure that no one could hear, even though there was no one else in the cluttered, rarely used storage room.
“You have been kind to me, Mistress,” Tilly said as she laid a gentle, wash-wrinkled hand on Magda’s shoulder. “More kind than most folk, even when you had no need to be. Most ignore me as I go about my work. Even though I’ve worked here most of my life, many don’t even know my name. Only you have ever asked after me, or offered me a smile, or a bite to eat on occasion when I was looking haggard. You, of all people.”
Magda patted the warm, comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re a good woman, Tilly. Most people don’t see the simple truth in front of them. I have offered you nothing more than common decency.”
Tilly nodded. “Common decency is what most of your standing would offer only a woman born noble.”
Magda smiled distantly. “We are all noble, Tilly. Every life is . . .”
Magda had to swallow, fearing that another word would put her over the edge.
“Precious,” Tilly finished for her.
Magda managed a smile for the woman. “Precious,” she agreed at last. “Maybe I see things differently because I wasn’t born noble.” She cleared her throat. “But when a life is over, it is over. That is the way of life. We all are born, we live, we die. There is no coming back from beyond the veil.”
Magda considered her own words and realized that they weren’t entirely accurate.
It occurred to her for the first time that it might have been that he had brought death back with him, that even though he had succeeded in returning from his perilous journey to the world of the dead, perhaps he had never really escaped its grasp. Perhaps he couldn’t.
Tilly fussed with the end of her apron strings as she mulled something over for a moment.