There have been quite a few rumors of vicious fighting between them over his work. Not to mention the fact that he switched publishers after his contract with Tor was up, a clear indication that he was unhappy with his situation there, and has publicly whined about editorial influence like a spoiled The First Confessor The Legend of Magda Searus By Terry Goodkind A Review by Eric Allen Over the last few years Terry Goodkind has been having Not to mention the fact that he switched publishers after his contract with Tor was up, a clear indication that he was unhappy with his situation there, and has publicly whined about editorial influence like a spoiled brat once or twice as well. His last two books, The Law of Nines and The Omen Machine , were not well received by fans and critics alike, likely because they were godawful abominations that no amount of editing could have made readable, much less enjoyable. These rumored difficulties between Goodkind and his publishers seem a likely culprit to lay the blame for these horrible books on.

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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. 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.

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? From the dead? 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.

Most ignore me as I go about my work. 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. I have offered you nothing more than common decency. Every life is Magda managed a smile for the woman.

That is the way of life. We all are born, we live, we die. There is no coming back from beyond the veil. 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.

Tilly fussed with the end of her apron strings as she mulled something over for a moment. But only if you wish to hear it. Though I admit that I have not seen such things with my own eyes, she swears on her soul that it be true.

Take it from me, wizards are masters of deception. They can conjure all sorts of illusions and make them seem real. He was loved by many people, me included. You would know of such illusions far better than I. She moved with an ever so slight, rocking, hitched stride, the result of a fall the past winter. Apparently, the broken hip had never healed properly. Tilly turned back before reaching the door. I know how you are suffering.

I only thought to help. He had traveled to the world of the dead, and returned. Magda knew that, this time, he would not be returning. With nothing left for her in the world of life, Magda wanted only to join him. She managed another small smile for the woman. Thank you for thinking to help. Such a woman might be able to contact your husband for you. There be a woman of such ability down there. I believe those wizards consult her in their work.

She may be able to bring you his words from beyond the veil, and put your heart at peace. What do you mean?

Especially to one not born noble. As the beautiful wife of the First Wizard, you are widely respected, despite being so much younger than him. You have used your position of power to speak before the council for those in the Midlands who have no voice. You alone give them voice. You are widely known and respected for that, not just because you were the wife of the First Wizard. You may find that the world is an unfriendly place to a widow of a powerful man who herself is not gifted and was not born noble.

Perhaps your departed husband could at least explain his reasons and ease your pain as well. I will think on it. He would have at least left a letter waiting for her upon her return. She knew, too, that there was nothing Baraccus could do from beyond the grave to protect her standing. A faint glow of candlelight fell across the floor as Tilly opened the door on the far side of the room. Men, their faces in shadow, their hands clasped, stood out in the hallway.

It appeared that it was to be sooner rather than later. She had planned to be finished with it all before they had a chance to show up. That, too, it seemed, was not to be. Her spirits would have sunk lower, but they could go no lower. What did it matter anymore? What did any of it matter? It would soon enough be ended. She had to be strong. Baraccus would want her to be strong.

Please let them in and then you may go on to your work. As soon as all seven of them had glided into the room, Tilly hurried away, closing the door behind her. CHAPTER 2 Magda slid the ornately engraved silver box to the side of the table, placing it beside a well-used collection of exquisite metalsmithing tools, semiprecious stones in divided trays, and small books filled with notes that had belonged to her husband.

When she had asked its purpose, he had said that it was an ever-present reminder of his calling come to pass, his talent, his duty, and his reason for being. The ruby red stone in the center of the intricate lines represented the blood of the enemy. He said that the amulet represented the dance with death. Magda lifted her long brown hair back over her shoulder as she turned to the seven men crossing the room. She recognized the familiar faces of six members of the council.

Each face was fixed with a stony expression. She suspected that the expressions were a mask for a bit of shame they likely felt at what they had come to see done. She had known they would come, of course, but not this soon. She had thought that they would have paid her the grace of a bit more time.

There was another man with them, his face shadowed by the hood of his loose brown habit. As they came closer, into the weak light leaking in around the closed shutters, the seventh man pushed the cowl back to rest on his rounded shoulders.

Men often stared at her, but not in this way. He had a short, wide, bull neck. The top of his head was covered in closely cropped, wiry black hair. Stubble darkened the lower half of his face. A high hairline made his forehead and the top of his skull look even larger. The lines and folds of his face for the most part tended to all draw in toward the center, giving his expression a pinched, pushed-in look.

All his coarse features looked firm and densely packed, as if every part of the man was as hard as his reputation. In a way, his striking visage gave him an intense, commanding air of authority. There was no mistaking that it was the head prosecutor himself, Lothain, a man of far-reaching authority and the renown to match it. His singular features, punctuated by those black eyes, made him impossible to forget.

It seemed beneath his time. The hard lines of his face bore testimony to the fact that this was a man who went about his work with relentless, iron determination. Not a full moon before, everyone had been stunned when Lothain had brought charges of treason against the entire Temple team, the men who had, at the direction of the Central Council, gathered dangerous items of magic together into the Temple of the Winds and then sent it all into the underworld for safekeeping until after the war.

The trial had been a sensation. In it, Lothain had revealed that the men had gone far beyond their mission and not only locked away more than they were supposed to, but made it all but impossible to recover. In a bold effort to try to undo the damage done by the traitors, Lothain himself had on his own authority then gone beyond the veil, into the underworld itself, to the Temple of the Winds.

Everyone feared for him on such a journey. Everyone feared to lose a man of such ability and powers. Unfortunately, the damage done by the Temple team had proven to be greater than even he had suspected, and he had not found a way in, so he had returned without being able to repair the damage done by the Temple team he had convicted. Lothain strolled in closer to Magda and gestured, indicating the formality of his preamble.


The First Confessor by Terry Goodkind

The First Confessor by Terry Goodkind 4. I vaguely remember not reading the Sword of Truth series for some reason, and as this is a prequel novel, I was unsure whether I should read it at all. However, despite these fears, the blurb drew me in and I ploughed through it in a relatively short amount of time. Thanks in huge part to the number of pages I just skimmed or out-and-out ignored.


The First Confessor (The Legend of Magda Searus Series #1)

Prior to being magically altered, Lady Searus was the wife of First Wizard Baraccus and was known for using that position to petition the Central Council of the Midlands. She was sometimes referred to as the conscience of the Council, due to her championing of the smaller nations of the Midlands who often went without a voice on the Council. Shortly after his return, the First Wizard committed suicide, leaving Magda despondent and alone. However, after discovering a final message from her husband hidden at the place of his death, Lady Searus embarked on a quest to uncover the truth of his suicide and of the traitors working in secret to help destroy the New World opposition to the forces of the Old World.


The First Confessor


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