Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“Richard,” she whispered, “please leave it at that.”

His glare cut to her soul. “What did she tell you?”

Kahlan swallowed as she panted with dread. She could feel hot tears coursing down her face.

“Shota saw the future.” Kahlan heard herself speaking, even though she had intended to remain silent. “She saw that you will wed another. She used her influence to make it someone you knew.” Under his glare, she found remaining silent impossible. “She could not influence who I am to wed. I will be married, too. It will not be you who becomes my husband.”

Richard stood frozen for a moment, a boiling thunderhead gathering. He yanked the baldric off over his head and tossed it and the scabbard holding the sword on a chair.

“Richard, what are you doing?”

And then he was moving. He went for the door. Kahlan put herself in front of him. It was like stepping in front of an enraged mountain.

“Richard, what are you going to do?”

He grasped her by the waist, picked her up, and set her aside as if she were no more than a child in his way.

“I’m going to kill her.”

Kahlan threw her arms around his waist from behind, trying to drag him to a halt. It slowed him no more than if she had been a gnat. He was leaving his sword because he couldn’t travel in the sliph with the magic of the Sword of Truth.

“Richard! Richard, please, stop! If you love me, stop!”

He halted and turned his wrathful glare on her. His voice came like a crack of thunder.

“What?”

“Richard, do you think I’m stupid?”

“Of course not.”

“Then do you believe I want to marry someone else?”

“No.”

“Richard, you have to listen to me. Shota said she saw the future. She isn’t making the future, she just saw it. She told me these things so that what she saw might help us.”

“I’ve had all of the ‘help’ from Shota I intend to have. I’ll have no more of it. She has taken one liberty too many. It will be her last.”

“Richard, we have to figure out what to do. We have to do what we can to stop this plague. You saw those sick, dying children. The spirit of Chandalen’s grandfather showed me countless other dead children—dead people of all sorts. That will be the future if you do this. Do you want those children and their parents to die because you refuse to use your head?”

His fist was gripping some sort of ornament on an elaborate necklace. She realized she had never seen it before.

Even though he wasn’t wearing his sword, its magic drove him. He was a cauldron of lethal rage. Death was dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t care what Shota says, I’ll not marry Nadine. Nor will I stand by while you—”

“I know,” she whispered. “Richard, I know how you feel. How do you think this makes me feel? But use your head. This is not the way to change what Shota says. You always said before that the future is not yet decided, and that we couldn’t act on what Shota says. You always said that we couldn’t allow ourselves to put our faith in what she says, and let it direct our actions.”

His eyes shone with deadly wrath. “You believe her.”

Kahlan took a calming breath, trying to regain her composure. “I believe she saw the future. Richard, don’t you remember how she also said that I would touch you with my power. Look at how that turned out. She was right, but it wasn’t the calamitous event I feared. It was what brought us together, and allowed us to have our love.”

“How can your marrying someone else turn out good?”

Kahlan abruptly realized what this was really about: he was jealous. She had never seen him this jealous before. But that’s what it was—a jealous rage.

“I would be lying if I told you I knew.” Kahlan gripped his broad shoulders. “Richard, I love you, and that’s the truth. I could never love anyone else. You believe me, don’t you? I trust in your love for me, and I know that you don’t love Nadine. Don’t you believe in me? Don’t you trust me?”

He visibly cooled. “Of course I do. I do trust you.” Frustration replaced the rage in his eyes. He released the amulet in his fist. “But—”

“But nothing. We love each other, and that’s all there is to it. Whatever happens, we have to believe in each other. If we don’t believe in each other, then we are lost in this.”

At last, he pulled her into his arms. She knew his anguish. She felt it, too. Hers, though, was worse, because she didn’t believe there was a way out of Shota’s prediction.

Kahlan lifted the strange amulet at his neck. In the center, surrounded by a complex of gold and silver lines, was a teardrop-shaped ruby as big as her thumbnail.

“Richard, what is this? Where did you get it?”

He lifted the gold and silver object from her fingers to peer down at it. “It’s a symbol, like the others I wear. I found it in the Keep.”

“In the First Wizard’s enclave?”

“Yes. It was part of this outfit, but unlike the rest of it, this was left in the First Wizard’s enclave. The man who wore it was the First Wizard in Kolo’s time. His name was Baraccus.”

“Cara told me that you found the record of the trial. What did it look like in there?”

Richard stared off. “It was… beautiful. I didn’t want to leave.”

“Have you found out anything from the book, yet?”

“No. It’s in High D’Haran. Berdine is working on Kolo’s journal; I’ll work on this one. I’ve only had an hour or so to start translating it. I haven’t really done much yet; I was too worried about you to be able to think about anything else.”

Kahlan touched the amulet hanging around his neck. “Do you know what this symbol represents?”

“Yes. The ruby is meant to represent a drop of blood. It is the symbolic representation of the way of the primary edict.”

“The primary edict?”

His voice turned distant, as if speaking to himself more than to her.

“It means only one thing, and everything: cut. Once committed to fight, cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut.”

His words chilled her to the bone as he went on.

“The lines are a portrayal of the dance. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resolutely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don’t allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depths of his spirit.

“It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death.

“It is the law a war wizard lives by, or he dies.”

49

Clarissa sat curled up in a chair, sewing the hem of a new dress Nathan had bought for her. He had wanted to let the seamstress do the work, but she had insisted on doing it herself, mostly to have something to do. Nathan had smiled and told her that if it would please her, then it was all right with him. She didn’t know what she would do with all the dresses he kept buying for her. She had told him to stop, but he just kept doing it.

Nathan returned from the door, having had a long discussion with a soldier named Bollesdun about the movements of Jagang’s expeditionary force. They were the men who had attacked her home of Renwold, Clarissa had learned. She tried not to listen to Nathan’s talks with his soldier friends who showed up from time to time.

She didn’t like to think about the nightmare of Renwold. Nathan told her that he wanted to end the killing, so there would be no more Renwolds. He called it a waste of life.

Clarissa touched Nathan’s leg when he came close. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

His blue eyes turned toward her, watching her for a long moment. “No, not yet. I must write a letter. I’m expecting someone soon. Don’t go into the bedroom to answer the door when they come. Stay in here. I don’t

want them to get a look at you. You don’t have magic, so they won’t know you’re in here.”

Clarissa caught the tone of disquiet in his voice. “Do you think they will cause trouble? They won’t try to hurt you, will they?”