injuries is irrelevant. Of course, in some cases it isn’t, such as when the person is near the veil and in the process of crossing over from the world of life into the world of the dead. That’s different.”
Sammie’s eyes widened. “You mean as the person is crossing the boundaries of the Grace?”
Richard regarded her more seriously. “Your mother taught you about the Grace?”
Sammie nodded. “The symbol that represents the spark of creation, the world of life, the world of the dead, and the way the gift crosses those boundaries to link everything. Those with the gift, she told me, must know about the Grace so as not to violate it. It defines how the gift flows and how it works—its capability and its limits—as well as the order of creation, life, and death. All our work, my mother said, is represented by the Grace, guided by it, and ultimately must be governed by it.”
“That’s what I learned as well,” Richard said. “By allowing myself to flow along those lines of the gift as represented by the Grace, I’ve found that healing most injuries is basically the same process. If you let the person’s need guide you, then through your gift you can feel what is necessary. Through your empathy you lift away the hurt and hold it within yourself so that the healing power of your gift can then flow into the person you’re helping. I have always found that the person’s need actually guides me, draws me onward toward it.”
Except that for some reason his gift had stopped working.
The girl frowned. “I think I know what you mean. My mother had me feel deep down into people, feel the trouble within them.”
“And did she teach you to lift that pain out of them and take it into yourself?”
Sammie hesitated. “Yes. But I was afraid. It’s hard when you can feel the pain they feel. I’ve done that. I’ve felt what they felt, though it was for smaller injuries. Then I try to lift it away from them and, like you say, let the warmth of the gift flow from me and into them to heal them.”
Richard was nodding as she spoke. “That’s been my experience as well.”
“But you said that you have healed people when they have been at the boundaries of the Grace, when they have been crossing over into the world of the dead. You have flowed along those lines of the Grace that flow into the world of the dead.”
It didn’t sound at all like a question so much as a lecture for doing things she had been taught were forbidden.
“You would be surprised, Sammie, what you would do for ones you love.” He again looked over at Kahlan. “I love her very much and I’m afraid for her, but this time I don’t have the strength for the sustained effort needed to heal her. Can you do that for her?”
Sammie’s gaze glided over to watch Ester gently cleaning blood from Kahlan’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know for sure. A Hedge Maid had captured her and was starting to drink her blood and—”
“Jit?” Sammie abruptly leaned toward him, her eyes intent. “Are you talking about Jit?” When Richard nodded she asked, “How did you ever manage to get away from the Hedge Maid?”
“I killed her.”
“Indeed he did,” Ester said back over her shoulder. She dipped the cloth in the bucket and then wrung red water out of it. “That’s how they were both hurt,” she said with a last look before going back to her work cleaning Kahlan’s wounds.
Sammie seemed not to notice Ester. She instead stared in wonder at Richard.
“Then you really are a protector of your people.” She caught herself, glanced at Ester busy with her work, then leaned closer to Richard and spoke confidentially. “You are the one.”
Richard didn’t know what she meant about him being the one. He was having enough trouble remaining upright and besides, he had far greater concerns at the moment.
“Will you help Kahlan, then? I need you to help us both, but I want you to help Kahlan first. I need to know that she’s out of danger.”
Anxiety tightened the gentle features of Sammie’s face. “She’s the Mother Confessor.”
Richard wasn’t sure exactly what she was getting at. “That’s right.”
Sammie winced a little with a sideways look, apparently fearful of posing the question. “Won’t I, well, you know, won’t I be harmed by her power? When I go down into the essence of who she is, won’t I be taken by her Confessor power?”
Richard was shaking his head even before she had finished the question.
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“How can you be sure? You said that you don’t know a lot about magic.”
“Because besides me, both a wizard and a sorceress have healed her before. None of us were harmed. In fact, a sorceress was in the process of healing her earlier today, but we were attacked before she was able to finish.
“Kahlan’s power won’t harm you. It’s not a danger for you to heal her. So, will you do it?”
Sammie pressed her lips tight. Her mouth contorted as she weighed her inner doubts. She finally nodded.
“I’ll try, Lord Rahl. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
Sammie squatted down beside Ester and leaned in over Kahlan. She turned her head to get a better view as she looked down at Kahlan’s still face.
“She’s very beautiful,” Sammie said back over her shoulder.
Richard nodded, trying to be understanding of Sammie’s young age and not show his tense impatience. He was afraid that if he wasn’t careful he might frighten her and then she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly on the job ahead of her. With his stomach in knots and Kahlan’s life hanging in the balance, it wasn’t easy to show the girl a calm expression.
“She is beautiful on the inside, too,” he said. “Right now she needs help. It’s up to us to give her that help.
“Maybe you should start out with the small things, first. Maybe concentrate on healing some of the cuts on her arms. That way you will be doing what you know. After you get comfortable with what it feels like to be healing her, then you can move on and deal with her bigger problem.”
Sammie nodded, liking the suggestion. “That sounds like the guidance my mother would give.”
She gently took hold of the older woman’s elbow and urged her back. Ester moved out of the way, pulling the bucket of bloody water with her.
“Take your time and think it through, child,” Ester told her. “Your mother taught you well. I know that you can do it.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Sammie said as she rested a hand on Kahlan’s abdomen, feeling her slow breathing. “I hope it’s enough,” she whispered to herself.
Ester stood off to the side, watching nervously. “Your mother would be proud of you, Sammie. She would say that you can do it, and that it’s in your hands now.”
Sammie, already concentrating on what she needed to do, answered with an absent nod. She momentarily touched various wounds along Kahlan’s arms, evaluating them with her gift. Her fingers tested the place on Kahlan’s stomach that had already been mostly healed by Zedd. Her hand lingered there, as if inspecting the work, perhaps hoping to learn from it.
Finally, Sammie scooted around so that she was kneeling above Kahlan’s