Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“Oh, we just thought we’d like to watch a man stabbing a nightdress stuffed with tow,” Richard said.

General Kerson inspected the prisoner to assure himself that Berdine had found all his weapons. When he was satisfied, he turned to Richard.

“What would you like done, Lord Rahl?”

“Behead him.”

Kahlan turned in shock. “Richard, you can’t do that.”

“You saw him. He thought he was killing you.”

“But he didn’t. He only stabbed my empty bed. The spirits mark a difference between intent and deed.”

“He tried to kill Nadine, too.”

“I did no such thing!” Tristan shouted. “That wasn’t me—I haven’t even left the palace tonight!”

Richard turned a cold glare on Tristan. “You have white hairs on your knees. White goat hairs. You knelt behind that fence while you aimed the crossbow, and got the goat hairs on you.”

Kahlan glanced down, and saw that Richard was right.

“You’re crazy! I never did!”

“Richard,” Kahlan said, “he didn’t kill Nadine, either. He may have tried, but he didn’t. You can’t execute him for intent.”

Richard closed his fist around the amulet at his chest, the amulet representing the dance with death. No mercy.

The general’s eyes left Kahlan and returned to Richard. “Lord Rahl?”

“Richard,” Kahlan insisted, “you can’t.”

Richard glared at Tristan. “He killed those women. He sliced them up with his fancy knife. You like to cut people, don’t you, Tristan?”

“What are you talking about? I never killed anyone—except in war!”

“No,” Richard said, “and you didn’t try to kill Kahlan, and you didn’t try to kill Nadine, and there aren’t white goat hairs on your pants.”

Tristan’s panicked brown eyes turned to Kahlan. “Mother Confessor, I didn’t kill you, I didn’t kill her. You said it yourself, the spirits mark a difference between intent and deed. I didn’t kill anyone. You can’t let him do this!”

Kahlan recalled the whispers about Tristan, the whispers that when he went into battle he drew his knife instead of his sword, and that he got sadistic pleasure from cutting people.

Those women were killed for sadistic pleasure.

“What was it you told me, Tristan? That you often had to resort to the charms of coin for the company of a woman? And that if you broke our rules, you would expect to be subjected to our choice of punishment?”

“What about a trial? I’ve killed no one! Intent is not the same as deed!”

“And what was your intent, Tristan?” Richard asked. “Why did you intend to kill Kahlan?”

“It wasn’t because I wanted to. It wasn’t for pleasure, as you think. It was to save lives.”

Richard lifted an eyebrow. “Killing to save lives?”

“You’ve killed people. You don’t do it for the pleasure of killing, but to save the lives of innocent people. That’s all I’m guilty of—trying to save innocent lives.

“The Imperial Order sent representatives to the royal palace in Sandilar. They told us to join with them, or die. Javas Kedar, our star guide, told me I must watch the skies for a sign.

“When the red moons came, and the plague started, I knew what they meant. I was going to kill the Mother Confessor in order to try to gain favor with the Order, so that they wouldn’t send the plague to us, too. I was only trying to save my people.”

Richard’s eyes turned to Kahlan. “How far is Sandilar?”

“A month, there and back. Maybe a few days less.”

Richard looked back at the general. “Get some officers together to take command of the Jarian forces and capital. Have them take Tristan’s head to the royal family and tell them that he was executed for attempting to kill the Mother Confessor.

“The officers are to offer Jara surrender to D’Hara under the peaceful terms already offered. It’s a month, there and back. The king himself is to return with the surrender documents. I expect him, and the D’Haran guard sent to accompany him, back here within one month from tomorrow.

“Tell the king that if they don’t surrender, and our men don’t return safely, I will personally ride into Sandilar at the head of an army and I will behead every member of the royal family. We will then conquer Jara and occupy the capital. The occupation will not be friendly.”

General Kerson clapped a fist to the chain mail over his heart. “It will be as you say, Lord Rahl.”

“Richard,” Kahlan whispered, “what if what he says is true—that he didn’t kill those women? I could touch him with my Confessor’s power and we would know for sure.”

“No! I’ll not have you touching him, or hearing the things he did to those women. He’s a monster; I don’t want you to have to touch him.”

“But what if he’s telling the truth? What if he didn’t kill those women?”

Richard’s fist gripped the amulet at his chest. “I’m not having him put to death for the murder of those women. He tried to kill you. I saw it. As far as I’m concerned, the intent is the same as the deed. He is going to pay for the intent, the same as he would have paid for the deed.”

Richard turned a cold, dark glare back to the soldiers. “Last night alone, three hundred people died of the plague. He would have joined with the murders who caused it. I want the men on their way to Jara first thing in the morning, and I want his head to go with them. You have your orders. Get him out of here.”

52

When she saw Drefan coming from the other direction, Kahlan set down the basket of clean bandages and rags she was carrying. Even though Richard had only ordered it as part of his ruse to convince Tristan that his plan was working, Drefan was still wearing a sword. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea. Some people were beginning to resent healers because they spoke out against the potions and cures being sold on the streets.

She brushed back her hair. “How are they?”

Drefan sighed as he glanced back up the hall. “One died last night. Most are worse. We have six new ones today.”

“Dear spirits,” she whispered, “what is to happen to us?”

> Drefan lifted her chin. “We will persevere.”

Kahlan nodded. “Drefan, if so many of the staff are coming down sick, and so many have died already, what good is this infernal smoke doing? I’m sick of breathing it.”

“The smoke is doing no good for the plague.”

Kahlan blinked up at him. “Then why must we keep doing it?”

Drefan smiled sadly. “The people think it helps keep the plague from being worse. It makes them feel better that we’re doing something, and that there is hope. If we stop, then they will think there is no hope.”

“Is there? Is there any hope?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Have you heard last night’s report yet?”

He nodded. “In the last week the number of dead has continued to rise. Last night it was up to over six hundred.”

Kahlan looked away despondently. “I wish we could do something.”

Shota had told her that a way would come. The spirit had told her that a way would come. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Richard, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of all the people who were dying.

“Well,” Drefan said, “I’m going to make my rounds through the city.”

Kahlan clasped his forearm. He flinched. It was a reaction that she, as a Confessor, was used to. She took her hand back. “I know you can do nothing to stop it, but thank you for all your aid anyway. Just your words help those living to have hope.”

“A healer’s best aid, words. Most of the time it’s all we can do to help. Most people think being a healer means healing people. That actually happens rarely. I learned a long time ago that being a healer means living with pain and suffering.”

“How’s Richard? Have you seen him this morning?”

“He’s in his office. He looked fine. I made him get some sleep.”

“Good. He needed rest.”

Drefan’s blue eyes searched hers. “He did what he had to with that man who tried to kill you, but I know that despite how resolute he appeared, it was a terribly hard thing for him to do. Killing a man, even one who richly deserves it, is not something that comes easily to Richard.”