Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“This is doing no good, anyway. Let’s go for that walk you suggested.” Richard yawned as he stretched. “And what have you been doing to keep busy,” he asked Kahlan, “while I’ve been shut up in this stuffy room?”

Kahlan cast a furtive glance at Drefan. “I—I’ve been helping Drefan and Nadine.”

“Helping them? Helping them do what?”

Drefan smoothed the ruffles on the front of his shirt. “Kahlan has been helping with the staff. Some of them are… ill.”

Richard looked from Kahlan’s eyes to Drefan’s. “The plague is in the palace?”

“I’m afraid so. Sixteen of them have come down sick. A few are common illnesses, the rest—.”

Richard heaved a weary sigh. “I see.”

Raina was standing guard outside his room. She straightened when Richard came through the door.

“Raina, we’re going for a walk. I suppose you’d better come along, or I’ll never hear the end of it from Cara.”

Raina smiled as she brushed back a wisp of dark hair. She knew he was right, and was obviously glad he was cooperating.

“Lord Rahl,” Raina said, “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working, but the captain of the city guard came by with a report.”

“I know. I heard. Three hundred people died last night.”

Raina’s leather creaked as she shifted her weight. “That, too, but they wanted me to tell you that they found another woman last night. She was cut up like the other four.”

Richard closed his eyes as he wiped a hand across his mouth. He noticed that he hadn’t remembered to shave that day. “Dear spirits. Don’t we have enough people dying without some madman going around killing more of them?”

“Was this one a prostitute, like the others?” Drefan asked.

“The captain said he wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure she was.”

Drefan shook his head with disgust. “You’d think he’d be worried about the plague, if not getting caught. The plague is running wild among the prostitutes, more so than the populace at large.”

Richard caught sight of Berdine coming up the hall. “As much as I’d like to do something about it, we have bigger worries.” He turned to Raina. “When we get back, tell the captain that I want his men to spread the word among those women that there’s a killer among them, and that for their own safety we hope they will cease their profession, at least for the time being.

“I’m sure the soldiers will know where to find all the prostitutes,” he added under his breath. “Have them get the word out at once. If these women don’t stop selling their bodies, they’re likely to find themselves in the company of the wrong customer. Their last customer.”

Richard waited until Berdine reached them. “Aren’t you supposed to be up in the Keep taking your turn guarding the sliph?” Richard asked her.

Berdine shrugged. “I went up there, to relieve Cara, but she said she wanted to stay for another watch.”

Richard raked back his hair. “Why would she want to do that?”

Berdine shrugged again. “She didn’t say.”

Kahlan took his arm. “I think it’s the rats.”

“What?”

“I think she’s trying to prove something to herself.” Kahlan hesitated. “Cara doesn’t like rats.”

“I don’t blame her,” Raina muttered.

“Filthy creatures,” Drefan put in. “I don’t blame her, either.”

“If any of you tease her about it,” Kahlan warned, “you will answer to me—when Cara’s done with you. It’s not funny.”

No one looked in the mood to challenge Kahlan, nor were any of them in a mood to see anything as funny.

“Where are you going?” Berdine asked.

“We’re going for a walk,” Richard said. “You’ve probably been sitting as much as I have. If you’d like, come along.”

Nadine came around the corner and caught sight of them just as they started out. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Richard said. “How are you doing, Nadine?”

Nadine smiled. “Fine, thank you. I’ve been busy smoking sick rooms, as Drefan asked.”

“We were just going out for a walk,” Kahlan said. “You’ve been working hard, Nadine. Why don’t you come along with us?”

Richard frowned at Kahlan. She didn’t look back at him.

Nadine studied Kahlan’s eyes for a moment. “Sure. I’d like that.”

The six of them made their way through the marble halls, past imposing tapestries and elegant furniture, and across sumptuous carpets on their way toward the main palace gates. Soldiers on patrol bowed or clapped fists over heart as the six of them passed. The staff Richard saw going about their business seemed to be in a state of shock. He saw people weeping as they hurried about their tasks.

Before they made the door, they encountered Tristan Bashkar. Richard was in no mood to speak with the Jarian ambassador. Tristan sauntered to a halt before them. There would be no avoiding him this time.

Tristan bowed his head. “Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl, I’m glad I ran into you.”

“What do you want, Tristan?” Kahlan asked in a level tone.

He watched her cleavage as she spoke. His gaze moved to Richard. “I want to know—”

Richard cut him off. “Did you come to offer Jara’s surrender?”

Tristan pulled his coat back and rested his fist on his hip. “The time I was allotted is not yet expired. I’m concerned about this plague. You’re Lord Rahl. You’re supposed to be running everything, now. I want to know what you’re going to do about the plague.”

Richard restrained himself. “What we can.”

Tristan glanced to Kahlan’s chest again. “Well, I’m sure that you can understand that I need assurance.” His gaze returned to Richard. A sly smile spread on his face. “After all, how can I, in good conscience, surrender my land to a man overseeing what may prove to be the greatest cataclysm in the history of the Midlands? No offense intended. The skies speak the truth to me. I’m sure you can understand my position.”

Richard leaned toward the pompous ambassador. “You are rapidly running out of time, ambassador. You had better be prepared to surrender Jara soon, or I will see to it—my way. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to get some fresh air. It suddenly stinks in here.”

Tristan Bashkar’s expression darkened.

When his eyes turned toward Kahlan again, Richard yanked the knife from Tristan’s belt scabbard before he could so much as blink. Everyone froze.

Richard pressed the point to the man’s chest.

“And if I ever again catch your lecherous eyes anywhere on Kahlan but her face, I’ll cut out your heart.”

Richard turned and loosed the knife, burying it in a round oak ball atop a nearby newel. The twang echoed through the marble halls. Without waiting for a response, he took Kahlan by the arm and marched away, his gold cloak billowing out behind. Kahlan’s face was red. The two Mord-Sith followed, grinning broadly. Drefan smiled, too, as he followed after. Nadine showed no reaction.

51

In the distance, a dog barked as Richard led them up the cobbled alley. He brought his escorts to a halt outside the small yard behind the Anderson family’s home. The yard was still cluttered with cutoffs, wood scraps, shavings, stickered lumber, and the two carving benches.

Richard heard neither the sound of wood being worked nor voices. He swung open the gate and made his way through the clutter. The workshop remained silent. A knock produced no response. Richard pushed open one of the double doors and called out. There was no reply.

“Clive!” Richard called again. “Darby! Erling! Is anyone home?”

Old chairs and templates still hung from pegs on the dusty walls, and the cobwebs still hung in all the corners. Upstairs, instead of the aroma of meat pies and boiling turnips, like the last time Richard had been to the Anderson home, there was the heavy stench of death.

In one of the chairs he had made sat

Clive Anderson. He was dead. In his arms, he was holding the stiff corpse of his wife.

Richard stood stunned at the sight. Behind, he heard Kahlan let out a mournful cry.

Drefan went to the bedrooms. After a brief look, he returned and shook his head.

Richard stood staring at the dead husband and wife. He tried to imagine Clive’s misery as he sat there, sick with the plague, holding his dead wife in his arms—his dreams and hopes dead in his arms.

Drefan eased a hand under Richard’s arm and pulled him away.

“Richard, there’s nothing to be done. We’d best go and have a dead-cart sent.”

Kahlan pressed her face against his shoulder as she wept. He saw the stricken look on the faces of Berdine and Raina. He saw their fingers find one another and curl together—a furtive comforting touch. Nadine glanced away from the rest of them. Richard felt sudden sorrow for her; she was alone among them. Thankfully, Drefan rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. The room droned with painful silence.

Richard held Kahlan to him as they went down the stairs. The others followed behind. When they reached the workshop, he took a breath, at last. The stench upstairs had nearly gagged him.

Just then, Erling, the grandfather, walked through the door. He started at seeing the six people standing in his workshop.

“I’m sorry, Erling,” Richard said. “We didn’t mean to invade your home. We came to check. We came…”