The Pillars of Creation by Terry Goodkind

ringlets of red hair lit in the wedge of light coming through the door.
    “Jennsen. Don’t recall the name, but the hair I remember. It’s not often one sees hair like yours.”
    Jennsen’s spirits buoyed with relief. “It has been a while. I’m so glad to hear that—”
    “I don’t deal in your kind,” the woman said. “Never have. I cast no spell for you.”
    Jennsen was stunned speechless. She didn’t know what to say. She was sure the woman had once cast a spell to help her.
    “Now, be gone. The both of you.” The door started to close.
    “Wait! Please—I can pay.”
    Jennsen reached into a pocket and hurriedly brought out a coin. Only after she passed it through the door did she see that it had been gold.
    The woman inspected the gold mark for a time, perhaps considering if it was worth becoming involved again in what was sure to be a high crime, even for what amounted to a small fortune.
    “Now do you remember?” Sebastian asked.
    The woman’s eyes turned to him. “And who are you?”
    “Just a friend.”
    “Lathea, I need your help again. My mother…” Jennsen couldn’t bring herself to say it, and started over in a different direction. “I remember my mother telling me about you, and how you helped us, once. I was very little at the time, but I remember having the spell cast over me. It wore off years ago. I need that help again.”
    “Well, you have the wrong person.”
    Jennsen’s fists tightened on her wool cloak. She had no other ideas. This was the only thing she could think of.
    “Lathea, please, I’m at my wits’ end. I need help.”
    “She’s given you a goodly sum,” Sebastian put in. “If you say that we have the wrong person, and you don’t want to help, then I guess we should save the gold for the right person.”
    Lathea gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I said she had the wrong person, but I didn’t say I couldn’t earn the payment tendered.”
    “I don’t understand,” Jennsen said, holding her cloak closed at her throat as she shivered with cold.
    Lathea gazed out at her for a moment, as if waiting to be sure they were paying close attention. “You are looking for my sister, Althea. I am La-thea. She is Al-thea. She is the one who helped you, not I. Your mother probably got our names mixed up, or you recalled it wrong. It used to be a common mistake, back when we were together. Althea and I have different talents with the gift. It was she who helped you and your mother, not I.”
    Jennsen was dumbfounded and disappointed, but at least not defeated. There was still a thread of hope. “Please, Lathea, could you help me this time? In your sister’s place?”
    “No. I can do nothing for you. I am blind to your kind. Only Althea can see the holes in the world. I cannot.”
    Jennsen didn’t know what that meant—holes in the world. “Blind…to my kind?”
    “Yes. I have told you what I can. Now, go away.”
    The woman started pulling back from the door.
    “Wait! Please! Can you at least tell me where your sister lives, then?”
    She looked back at Jennsen’s expectant face. “This is dangerous business—”
    “It’s business,” Sebastian said, his voice as cold as the night. “A gold mark’s worth. For that price we should at the least have the place where we can find your sister.”
    Lathea considered his words, then in a voice as cold as his had been said to Jennsen, “I don’t want nothing to do with your kind. Understand? Nothing. If Althea does, that’s her business. Inquire at the People’s Palace.”
    Jennsen seemed to remember traveling to a woman not terribly far from the palace. She had thought it was Lathea, but it must have been her sister, Althea. “But can’t you tell me more than that? Where she lives, how I can find her?”
    “Last time I saw her she lived near there with her husband. You can inquire there for the sorceress Althea. People will know her—if she still lives.”
    Sebastian put his hand against the door before the woman