Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

Hard as she could, Kahlan fisted him on the nerve at the side of his upper arm.

He recoiled in pain. He fell to the side of his hip with a groan, covering his arm where she had clouted him.

“I told you, this is an important woman! How dare you grope her like that! I won’t have it, do you understand?”

“I wasn’t groping her,” he growled.

The heat was still in Kahlan’s voice. “Then what do you call it?”

“I was trying to determine what this dream walker has done to her. He’s greatly disturbed her auras, her energy flows, confusing her mind’s control of her body.

“She’s not in convulsions, precisely. She’s having uncontrolled muscular contractions. I was checking to make sure that he hadn’t triggered the part of her brain that controls excitement. I was making sure that he hadn’t put her in a state of continual orgasm. I have to know the extent of the blocks and triggers he’s disturbed so that I know how to reverse it.”

Nadine, eyes widening, leaned forward. “Magic can do such a thing? Make a person have… continual…”

He nodded as he flexed his sore arm. “If the practitioner knows what he’s doing.”

“Can you do such a thing?” she breathed.

“No. I don’t have the gift, or any other form of magic, but I know how to heal—if the damage isn’t too great.” The cowl turned toward Kahlan. “Now, do you wish me to continue, or do you want to watch her die?”

“Continue. But if you put your hand down there again, you are going to be a one-handed healer.”

“I’ve already learned what I needed to know.”

Nadine leaned in again. “Is she…?”

“No.” He flicked his hand irritably. “Pull off her boots.”

Nadine shuffled around and did as he had ordered. He turned a bit toward Kahlan, as if peering at her from the depths of his cowl. “Did you know to hit that particular nerve in my arm with deliberate knowledge, or did you simply get lucky?”

Kahlan studied the shadow, trying to see his eyes. She couldn’t. “I was trained to do such things: to defend myself, and others.”

“I’m impressed. With such understanding of nerves, you could learn to heal instead of hurt.” He turned his attention to Nadine. “Depress the third anterior axis of the dorsin meridian.”

Nadine made a face. “What?”

He waggled his hand, pointing. “Between the tendon at the back of her ankles and the prominent bone sticking out to the sides. Squeeze there with a thumb and one finger. Both ankles.”

Nadine did as she was told while Drefan pressed behind Cara’s ears with his little fingers and at the same time on the tops of her shoulders with his thumbs. “Harder, woman.” He put both palms, one hand atop the other, on Cara’s sternum.

“Second meridian,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Move down half an inch and do it again. Both ankles.” He moved his fingers on Cara’s skull, concentrating on what he was doing. “All right. First meridian.”

“Another half inch down?” Nadine asked.

“Yes, yes, hurry.”

He held Cara’s elbows between a thumb and finger as he lifted them a few inches.

Finally, he sat back on his heels with a sigh. “This is astounding,” he muttered to himself. “This is not good.”

“What is it?” Kahlan asked. “Are you saying that you can’t help her?”

He waved dismissively, as if too distracted to answer.

“Answer me,” Kahlan insisted.

“If I wish you to bother me, woman, I will ask.”

Nadine leaned forward, cocking her head. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” She pointed with her chin, indicating Kahlan.

He was feeling Cara’s earlobes. “By the looks of her, I’d say some mucker on the cleaning staff. One in need of a bath.”

“I’ve just had a bath,” Kahlan said under her breath.

Nadine’s voice lowered with import. “You’d better show some respect, Mister Healer. She’s the one who owns this palace. The whole thing. She’s the Mother Confessor herself.”

He ran a finger down the inside of Cara’s upper arms. “Is that so? Well, good for her. Now, be quiet, the both of you.”

“She’s also the betrothed of Lord Richard Rahl himself.”

Drefan’s hands froze. His whole body stiffened.

“And since Lord Richard Rahl is the Master of D’Hara, and you’re from D’Hara,” Nadine went on, “I reckon that makes him the boss of you. If I were you, I’d be showing a lot more respect for Lord Richard Rahl’s future wife. He doesn’t like it when people don’t show respect for women. I’ve seen him knock out people’s teeth for being disrespectful.”

Drefan hadn’t moved a muscle.

Kahlan thought Nadine had put it very crudely, but she doubted it could have been any more effective.

“Not only that,” Nadine added, “but she’s the one who killed the assassin. With magic.”

Drefan finally cleared his throat. “Forgive me, mistress—”

“Mother Confessor,” Kahlan corrected.

“I most humbly beg your forgiveness… Mother Confessor. I had no idea. I had no intention to cause—”

Kahlan cut him off. “I understand. You were more concerned with healing Cara, here, than with formalities. So am I. Can you help her?”

“I can.”

“Please, get on with it then.”

He immediately turned back to Cara. Kahlan frowned as she watched his hands gliding in patterns over the supine woman, keeping just above her flesh. His hands paused occasionally, fingers trembling with effort at an invisible task.

From Cara’s feet, Nadine folded her arms again. “You call this healing? My herbs would have had a better effect than this piffle, and a lot sooner, too.”

He looked up. “Piffle? Is that what you think this is? Just some nonsense? Do you have the slightest idea, young lady, what we’re dealing with?”

“A paroxysm. It must be ended, not prayed over.”

He rose up on his knees. “I am the Raug'Moss High Priest. I am not given to praying for my healings.” Nadine snorted derisively. He nodded, as if deciding something. “You wish to see what we’re dealing with? You want proof your simple herb woman eyes can understand?”

Nadine scowled. “In view of the lack of results, a little proof would be a fine dish.”

He pointed. “I saw a horn of mugwort. Give it here. I presume you have a taper in that bag; bring it, too, after you light it.”

As Nadine took the candle to the torch to light it, Drefan opened his cloak and took several items from a pouch. Nadine handed him the lit candle. He dripped hot wax on the floor to the side and stuck the taper in it.

Drefan reached under his cloak and pulled out a long, thin-bladed knife. He leaned over and pressed it between Cara’s breasts. A ruby drop grew under the point. He set the knife aside and leaned over her. With a long-handled spoon, he skimmed the blood from her flesh.

He sat back, unstopped the horn Nadine had given him, and dumped some mugwort atop the blood in the spoon. “You call this mugwort! You’re only supposed to collect the fluffy underside of the leaf. You’ve got the whole leaf mixed in with it.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s all mugwort.”

“A very low grade, this way. You ought to know to use a high-grade mugwort. What sort of herb woman are you, anyway?”

Nadine squinted in indignation. “It works just fine. Are you trying to find an excuse to get out of showing us that you know what you’re doing? Are you trying to blame your failure on the grade of mugwort?”

“The grade is more than good enough for my purpose, but not for yours.” His tone turned instructional, if not polite. “Next time, purify the sample you collect, and you will find it to be of more help to those who need it.”

He hunched over, holding the spoon to the point of the candle flame until the mugwort ignited, giving off a copious amount of sm

oke and a heavy, musky odor. Drefan circled the smoking spoon over Cara’s stomach, letting the layer of smoke build.

He handed the spoon of smoking mugwort to Nadine. “Hold this between her feet.”