Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“My wish is for you to stand right there, on that spot of your spit, until I tell you otherwise. You are never to so much as lift a finger to harm me, or anyone else, ever again. That is my wish. Do you understand? Do you fully understand my wishes?”

He nodded, as best he could the way her hand clamped his jaw. “Yes, Mistress Cara. I would never hurt you—I swear. You want me to stand on my spit until you give me permission to do otherwise.” Tears welled up anew. “I won’t move, I swear. Please don’t hurt me.”

Cara shoved his face away. “You disgust me. Men who break as easily as you disgust me. I’ve had girls last longer under my Agiel,” she muttered. She pointed behind. “Those men won’t hurt you. They will do nothing to stop you. If you get to the door, against my wishes, you are free and the pain will be gone.” She glared at the soldiers. “You all heard me, didn’t you? If he reaches the door, he’s free.” The soldiers nodded. “If he kills me, he’s free.”

This time they didn’t agree until Cara yelled her order again. Cara turned her hot glare to Kahlan. “That includes you. If he kills me, or if he makes the door, he’s free.”

No matter how improbable, Kahlan wouldn’t agree to such a thing. Marlin wanted to kill Richard. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need to understand. You need to trust my word.”

Kahlan forced out a breath. “Get on with it,” she said, without agreeing to the terms.

Cara turned her back to Marlin and folded her arms. “You know my wishes, my pet. If you wish to escape, this is your chance. You reach the door, and you’re free. If you want to kill me for what I’ve done to you, now’s your chance for that, too.

“You know,” she added, “I don’t think I’ve seen nearly enough of your blood. When we’re done with all this nonsense, I’m going to take you somewhere private, where the Mother Confessor won’t be around to intercede on your behalf, I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon and night punishing you with my Agiel, just because I’m in the mood. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.”

She shrugged. “Unless, of course, you kill me, or escape.”

The soldiers stood mute. The room exuded a heavy silence as Cara waited with her arms folded. Marlin carefully looked around, studying the soldiers, Kahlan, and Cara’s back. His fingers worked on the hilt of the sword, drawing it tighter into his grip. His eyes narrowed as he considered.

Watching Cara’s back, he finally took a small, tentative step to the side.

To Kahlan, it looked as if an invisible club had whacked him in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt. A low groan wheezed from his throat. With a cry of effort, he dived for the door.

He hit the floor screaming. He clutched his abdomen with both arms as he writhed. With fingers curled in agony, he threw himself out flat on the floor and tried to claw his way to the door. It was still a goodly distance. Each inch he gained racked him with ever worse convulsions of pain. Kahlan winced at his panting screams.

In a last, desperate effort, he snatched up the sword again and staggered to his feet, straightening partially, lifting the sword above his head. Kahlan tensed. Even if he couldn’t make his arms do his bidding, he could fall and cleave Cara.

The risk to Cara was too great. Kahlan took an urgent step forward as Marlin bellowed and tried to bring the sword down to hack at Cara. Cara, watching Kahlan, held up an admonishing finger, stopping Kahlan where she stood.

Behind her, Marlin’s sword clattered to the floor as he crumpled, holding his stomach as he shrieked. He crashed to the floor, his distress obviously growing precipitously with each moment as he writhed on the polished wood floor like a fish out of water.

“What did I tell you, Marlin?” Cara asked in a quiet voice. “What are my wishes?”

He seemed to grasp the meaning of her words as if they were from a person yelling as he threw a lifeline to a drowning man. His frantic gaze hunted the floor. Finally, he saw it. He clawed his way to the spot of his spit, moving as quickly as the racking pain allowed. At last, he managed to stagger to his feet.

He stood, fists at his side, still shaking and screaming.

“Both feet, Marlin,” Cara said casually.

He looked down and saw that only one foot was on the spit. He jerked the other closer, onto the red spot.

He sagged and finally fell silent. Kahlan felt herself sag with him. His eyes closed, panting, dripping sweat, he stood trembling with the lingering effects of the ordeal.

Cara lifted an eyebrow to Kahlan. “Understand?”

Kahlan scowled. Cara scooped up the sword and marched it over to the door. As one, the soldiers all backed up a step. She held the sword out, hilt first. Reluctantly, its owner retrieved it.

“Any questions, gentlemen?” Cara asked in an icy voice. “Good. Now stop banging on the door when I’m busy.” She slammed the heavy door in their faces.

Marlin’s lower lip sucked in and out over his teeth with each panting breath. Cara put her face close to his.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to close your eyes. Did you hear me say you could close them?”

His eyes opened wide. “No, Mistress Cara.”

“Then what were they doing closed?”

Marlin’s terror quavered through his voice. “I’m sorry, Mistress Cara. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.”

“Cara.”

She turned, as if she had forgotten Kahlan was even in the room. “What?”

Kahlan tilted her head in gesture. “We need to talk.”

“You see?” Cara asked, when she had joined Kahlan at the table with the lamp. “You see what I mean? He can’t hurt anyone. He can’t escape. No man has ever escaped a Mord-Sith.”

Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. “Richard did.”

Cara straightened and let out a noisy breath. “Lord Rahl is different. This man is no Lord Rahl. Mord-Sith have proven themselves unerring thousands of times. No one but Lord Rahl ever killed his Mistress to reclaim his magic and escape.”

“No matter how improbable, Richard has proven that Mord-Sith aren’t infallible. I don’t care how many thousands Mord-Sith ha

ve subjugated; the fact that one escaped means that it’s possible. Cara, I’m not doubting you—it’s just that we can’t take chances. Something’s wrong; why would Jagang throw this lamb in a wolf’s lair, and specifically tell him to announce himself?”

“But—”

“It’s possible Jagang was killed—he might be dead and we have nothing to fear—but if he’s still alive, and anything goes wrong with Marlin, here, it will be Richard who pays the price. Jagang wants Richard dead. Are you so stubborn that you’re willing to put Richard at risk for the sake of your pride?”

Cara scratched her neck as she considered. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at Marlin standing on the spot of his spit, his eyes wide open, sweat dripping off the end of his nose.

“What do you want to do? This room has no windows. We can lock and bar the door. Where can we put him that would be safer than this room?”

Kahlan pressed her fingers over the burning ache under her sternum.

“The pit.”

Kahlan twisted her fingers together as she came to a halt before the iron door. Marlin, looking like a frightened puppy, stood silently in the center of a knot of D’Haran soldiers a ways back up the torch-lit hall.

“What’s the matter?” Cara asked.

Kahlan flinched. “What?”

“I asked what was the matter. You look like you’re afraid the door is going to bite you.”

Kahlan pulled her hands apart and made herself put them at her sides. “Nothing.” She turned and lifted the ring with the keys from the iron peg in the coarse stone wall beside the door.

Cara lowered her voice. “Don’t lie to a sister of the Agiel.”

Kahlan mimicked a quick smile of apology. “The pit is where the condemned await execution. I have a half sister—Cyrilla. She was the queen of Galea. When she was here, when Aydindril fell to the Order, before Richard liberated the city, they threw her in the pit with a gang of about a dozen murderers.”

“Have a half sister? She still lives, then?”

Kahlan nodded as the mists of memories swirled before her mind’s eye. “But they had her down there for days. Prince Harold, her brother, my half brother, rescued her when they were taking her to the block to be beheaded, but she’s never been the same since. She’s withdrawn into herself. On rare occasions she comes out of her stupor, and insists that the people need a queen able to lead them and that I become the queen of Galea in her place. I agreed.” Kahlan paused. “She screams inconsolably if she comes awake and sees men.”