Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“You’ll have to wait in line,” Kahlan said.

Cara at last grinned. “Let us pray to the good spirits that we never have to fight over first rights.”

“I have a better idea: let’s keep harm from reaching him in the first place. But remember, when we get up there, that we don’t know for sure who this Nadine is. If she is a Sister of the Dark, she is a very dangerous woman. But we don’t know for sure that she is. She might be a dignitary: a woman of rank and importance. It could even be that she’s nothing more than a rich nobleman’s daughter. Maybe he banished her poor, farmboy lover, and she’s simply looking for him. I don’t want you harming an innocent person. Let’s just keep our heads.”

“I’m not a monster, Mother Confessor.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to say that you were. I just don’t want our desire to protect Richard to make us lose our heads. That includes me. Now, let’s get up to Petitioners’ Hall.”

Cara frowned. “Why would we go there? Why not go to Nadine’s room?”

Kahlan started up the second flight, two steps at a time. “There are two hundred eighty-eight guest rooms in the Confessors’ Palace, divided among six separate wings at distant points. I was distracted before, and didn’t think to tell the guards where to put her, so we have to go ask.”

Cara shouldered open the door at the top of the stairs and, head swiveling, entered the hall ahead of Kahlan, as she liked to do in order to check the way for trouble.

“Seems a poor design. Why would guest rooms be separated?”

Kahlan gestured to a corridor branching to the left. “This way is shorter.” She slowed as two guards stepped aside to make way for them, and then quickened her pace along the deep blue carpet running down the hall. “The guest rooms are separated because many diplomats visited the palace on business with the council, and if the wrong diplomats are placed too close together, they could become very undiplomatic. Keeping peace among allies was sometimes a delicate balancing game. That included accommodations.”

“But there are all the palaces—for the representatives of the lands—on Kings Row.”

Kahlan grunted cynically. “Part of the game.”

When they entered Petitioners’ Hall, everyone went to their knees again. Kahlan had to give them the formal acknowledgment before she could speak with the captain. He told her where he had put Nadine, and she was about to leave when a boy, one of the group of Ja’La players waiting patiently in the hall, snatched the floppy wool hat from his head of blond hair and bolted toward them.

The captain caught sight of him trotting across the room. “He’s waiting to see Lord Rahl. Probably wants him to come watch another game.” The captain smiled to himself. “I told him it would be all right if he waited, but that I couldn’t promise that Lord Rahl could see him.” He shrugged self-consciously. “Least I could do. I was at the game, yesterday, with a crowd of soldiers. The boy and his team won me three silver marks.”

Hat crushed in both little fists, the boy genuflected on the other side of the marble railing from Kahlan.

“Mother Confessor, we’d like to… well… if it’s no trouble we…” His voice trailed off as he gulped air.

Kahlan smiled encouragement. “Don’t be afraid. What’s your name?”

“Yonick, Mother Confessor.”

“I’m sorry, Yonick, but Richard can’t come watch another game just now. We’re busy at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow. I know we both enjoyed it, and we would very much like to come watch again, but on another day.”

He shook his head. “It’s not about that. It’s my brother, Kip.” He twisted his hat. “He’s sick. I was wondering if… well, if Lord Rahl could come do some magic and make him better.”

Kahlan gave the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Well, Richard’s not really that kind of wizard. Why don’t you go see one of the healers on Stentor Street. Tell them what he’s sick with and they’ll give him some herbs to help him feel better.”

Yonick hung his head. “We don’t have no money for herbs. That’s why I was hoping… Kip is real sick.”

Kahlan straightened and peered at the captain. His gaze went from Kahlan to the boy and back again. He cleared his throat.

“Well, Yonick, I saw you play, yesterday,” the captain stammered. “Quite good. Your team was quite good.” Checking Kahlan’s eyes again, he stabbed a hand into a pocket and came out with a coin. He bent over the rail and pushed the coin into Yonick’s fist. “I know which one’s your brother. He… that was a great play, that goal he made. Take this and get him some herbs, like the Mother Confessor said he needs.”

Yonick stared in astonishment at the silver coin in his hand. “Herbs don’t cost this much, as I hear told.”

The captain waved away the notion. “Well, I don’t have anything smaller. Buy your team a treat, for their win, with the extra. Now take it and be off. We have palace business we must attend to.”

Yonick straightened and clapped a fist to his heart in salute. “Yes, sir.”

“And practice that kick of yours,” the captain called after the boy as he ran across the hall to his fellows. “It’s a little sloppy.”

“I will,” Yonick shouted over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Kahlan watched as he collected his friends and they rushed to the door. “Very kind of you, captain…?”

“Harris.” He winced. “Thank you, Mother Confessor.”

“Cara, let’s go see this Lady Nadine.”

Kahlan hoped the captain who came to attention at the end of the hall had had an uneventful watch.

“Has Nadine tried to leave, Captain Nance?”

“No, Mother Confessor,” he said, when he straightened from his bow. “She seemed grateful that someone was taking an interest in her request. When I explained that there could be trouble about and we needed her to stay in her room, she promised to abide by my instructions.” He glanced at the door. “She said that she didn’t want to get me in ‘hot water’ and she would do as I asked.”

“Thank you, captain.” She paused before she opened the door. “If she comes out of this room without us, kill her. Don’t stop to ask her any questions, and don’t give her any warning, just have the archers take her down.” When his brow twitched, she added, “If she leaves first, it will be because she has proven she commands magic and has killed us with it.”

Captain Nance, his face gone as pale as year-old straw, clapped a fist to his heart in salute.

The outer sitting room was decorated in red. The walls were a dark crimson, adorned with white crown molding, pink marble baseboard and door casings, and a hardwood floor almost entirely covered with a huge, gold-fringed carpet embellished with an ornate leaf-and-flower motif. The gilded legs of the marble-topped table and of the red velvet, tufted chairs were carved with a matching leaf-and-flower design. Being an interior room, there were no windows. Cut glass chimneys on the dozen reflector lamps around the room sent sparkles of light dancing across the walls.

To Kahlan’s mind it was one of the least tasteful color schemes in the palace, but there were diplomats who specified this color room when requesting accommodations at the palace. They felt it put them in the right frame of mind for negotiations. Kahlan was always wary when hearing the arguments of representatives who had requested one of the red rooms.

Nadine wasn’t in the extravagant outer room. The door to the bedroom was ajar.

“Delicious rooms,” Cara whispered. “Can I have them?”

Kahlan shushed her. She knew why the Mord-Sith would want a red room. With Cara peering over her shoulder, Kahlan cautiously pushed back the bedroom door. Cara’s breath tickled her left ear.

If it was possible, the bedroom was more jarring to the senses than the sitting room, with the red theme carried into the carpets, embroidered bedcover, immoderate collection of ornate, gold-fringed crimson pillows, and the swirled, pink marble fireplace surround. Kahlan thought that if Cara was wearing her red leather and ever wanted to hide, she

could simply sit in this room and no one would ever find her.

Only half the lamps in the bedroom were lit. Several blown-glass bowls set about on tables and the desk were filled with dried rose petals, their fragrance mingling with the lamp oil to permeate the air with a heavy, sickly-sweet odor.

When the hinges squeaked, the woman resting on the bed opened her eyes, saw Kahlan, and sprang to her feet. Ready to take Nadine with her Confessor’s power if she gave the slightest indication of aggression, Kahlan unconsciously held an arm out to her side to keep Cara out of her way. In preparation, her muscles tight as coiled steel, Kahlan was holding her breath. If the woman conjured magic, Kahlan would have to be quick.

Nadine hastily knuckled the sleep from her eyes. By her indecision as to which foot to put forward in the awkward curtsy she performed, Kahlan knew that she was no noblewoman. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a Sister of the Dark.

Nadine gawked at Cara for an instant before smoothing down her dress at her shapely hips and addressing Kahlan. “Forgive me, Queen, but I’ve been on a long journey and I was taking a bit of a rest. I guess I must have fallen asleep; I didn’t hear you knock. I’m Nadine Brighton, Queen.”

As Nadine dipped into another inelegant curtsy, Kahlan quickly surveyed the room. The washbasin and ewer hadn’t been used. The towels beside them on the washstand were clean and still folded. A simple, worn, woolen travel bag sat at the foot of the bed. A clothesbrush and a tin cup were the only foreign objects on the overwrought, gilded table to the other side of a red velvet chair beside the fringed canopy bed. Despite the early spring chill and cold hearth, she hadn’t pulled down the bed covers for her nap. Perhaps, thought Kahlan, so as not to become tangled in them if she had to move fast.

Kahlan didn’t apologize for entering without knocking. “Mother Confessor,” she said in a cautious tone, feeling the need to make clear the tacit threat of the power she wielded. “Queen is one of my less… common, titles. I am more widely known as the Mother Confessor.”

As Nadine blushed, the sprinkling of freckles at the top of her cheekbones and across her delicate nose almost disappeared. Her bright brown eyes turned to the floor with unease. She hastily ran her fingers through her thick brown hair, although it didn’t look disheveled.

She wasn’t as tall as Kahlan, though she looked to be about the same age, or perhaps a year younger. She was a lovely-looking young woman, and cast off no warning signs of threat or danger, but Kahlan wasn’t put at ease by a fresh face and innocent demeanor.