Phantom - (EPUB全文下载)

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Phantom
Sword of Truth 10
Terry Goodkind
To Phil and Debra Pizzolato,
And their kids, Joey, Nicolette, Philip, and Adriana,
Who constantly remind me of the value of life
by bringing their love and laughter to mine
The following individuals have been invaluable in helping to bring Phantom
to life.
Brian Anderson
Jeff Bolton
R. Dean Bryan
Dr. Joanne Leovy
Mark Masters
Desirée and Dr. Roland Miyada
Keith Parkinson
Phil and Debra Pizzolato
Tom and Karen Whelan
Ron Wilson
Each of these people has been there for me when I needed them most.
Each is a person of unique ability who played a key role in making this book happen. Each of them brings joy to my life by just being themselves.
In loving memory of Keith Parkinson.
Those who have come here to hate should leave now, for in their hatred they only betray themselves.
translated from The Book of Life
Chapter 1
Kahlan stood quietly in the shadows, watching, as evil knocked softly on the door. Huddled under the small overhang, off to the side, she hoped that no one would answer that knock. As much as she would like to spend the night in out of the rain, she didn’t want trouble to visit innocent people. She knew, though, that she had no say in the matter.
The light of a single lantern flickered weakly through the slender windows to either side of the door, reflecting a pale, shimmering glow off the wet floor of the portico. The sign overhead, hung by two iron rings, grated and squealed each time it swung back and forth in the wind-borne rain. Kahlan was able to make out the spectral white shape of a horse painted on the dark, wet sign. The light from the windows wasn’t enough to enable her to read the name, but because the other three women with her had talked of little else for days, Kahlan knew that the name would be the White Horse Inn.
By the smell of manure and wet hay, she judged that one of the dark buildings nearby had to be a stable. In the sporadic displays of distant lightning, she could just make out the hulking shoulders of dark structures standing like ghosts beyond the billowing sheets of rain. Despite the steady roar of the deluge and the rumble of thunder, it appeared that the village was sound asleep. Kahlan could think of no better place to be on such a dark and wretched night than bundled up under bed covers, safe and warm.
A horse in the nearby stable whinnied when Sister Ulicia knocked a second time, louder, more insistently, evidently intending herself to be heard over the riot of rain, yet ............

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