Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“Cara,” Kahlan whispered, “could that woman there, with the long hair, be from D’Hara?”

Cara had been watching her, too; she had learned some of the customs of the Midlands. Though Cara’s long blond hair was about the length of Kahlan’s, she was D’Haran. They didn’t live by the same customs.

“Her nose is too ‘cute’ to be D’Haran.”

“I’m serious. Do you think she could be D’Haran?”

Cara studied the woman a moment longer. “I doubt it. D’Haran woman don’t wear flower-print dresses, nor are the dresses they do wear of that cut. But clothes can be changed to fit the occasion, or to fit in with local people.”

The dress didn’t really fit the local dress of Aydindril, but it might not be so out of place in other, more remote, areas of the Midlands. Kahlan nodded and turned to a waiting captain, motioning him over.

He leaned his head close as she spoke in a low tone. “There is a woman with long brown hair standing against the wall in the back, over my left shoulder. Do you see who I’m talking about?”

“The pretty one, in the blue kirtle?”

“Yes. Do you know why she’s here?”

“She said she wished to speak with Lord Rahl.”

Kahlan’s brow drew tighter. She noticed that Cara’s did, too. “What about?”

“She said that she’s looking for a man—Cy something—I didn’t recognize his name. She said he’s been missing since last autumn, and she was told that Lord Rahl would be able to help her.”

“Is that right,” Kahlan said. “And did she say what business she has with this missing man?”

The captain glanced to the woman and then brushed his sandy hair back from his forehead. “She said that she’s to marry him.”

Kahlan nodded. “It could be that she’s a dignitary, but if she is, I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t know her name.”

The captain glanced at a tattered list with scribbles all over it. He turned the paper and scanned the other side until he found what he was looking for. “She said her name was Nadine. She gave no title.”

“Well, please see to it that Lady Nadine is taken to a private waiting room where she will be comfortable. Tell her that I will come speak with her and see if I can help. Have dinner brought to her, along with anything else she might require. Give her my apology and tell her that I have something of vital importance that I must attend to first, but I will come see her as soon as I am able, and that I wish to do what I can to help her.”

Kahlan could understand the woman’s distress if she really was separated from her love and was searching for him. Kahlan had been in that situation herself and knew well the anguish.

“I’ll see to it at once, Mother Confessor.”

“One other thing, captain.” Kahlan watched the woman twisting her kerchief. “Tell Lady Nadine that there is trouble about, what with the war with the Old World, and that for her own safety we must insist that she remain in the room until I can come to speak with her. Post a heavy guard outside the room. Place archers at a safe distance down the hall to either side of the door.

“If she comes out, insist that she must return to the room at once and wait. If you must, tell her that it is by my command. If she still tries to leave”— Kahlan looked into the captain’s waiting blue eyes. —“kill her.”

The captain bowed as Kahlan swept on through the passageway, Cara right at her heels.

“Well, well,” Cara said once outside Petitioners’ Hall, “at last the Mother Confessor comes to her senses. I knew I had a good reason for allowing Lord Rahl to keep you. You will make him a worthy wife.”

Kahlan turned down the corridor toward the room where guards held the man. “I haven’t changed my mind about anything, Cara. Considering our strange visitor, I’m giving the Lady Nadine every chance to live, every chance I can afford to give, but you’re mistaken if you think I’ll balk at doing whatever it takes to protect Richard. Besides being the man I love more than life itself, Richard is a man of vital importance to the freedom of the people of both D’Hara and the Midlands. There’s no telling what the Imperial Order would try in order to get to him.”

Cara smiled, sincerely, this time. “I know he loves you the same. That’s why I don’t like you going to see this man; Lord Rahl may separate me from my hide if he thinks I allowed you near danger.”

“Richard is one born with the gift; I, too, have been born with magic. Darken Rahl sent quads to kill the Confessors because there is little danger to a Confessor from one man.”

Kahlan felt the familiar, yet distant anguish of their deaths. Distant, because it seemed so long ago, though it had been hardly a year. For months, in the beginning, she had felt as if she should be dead along with her sister Confessors, and that she had somehow betrayed them by escaping all the traps laid for her. Now, she was the last.

With a flick of her wrist, Cara snapped her Agiel into her fist. “Even a man, like Lord Rahl, born with the gift? Even a wizard?”

“Even a wizard, and even if, unlike Richard, he knows how to use his power. I not only know how to use mine, I am very experienced at it. I long ago lost count of the number...”

As Kahlan’s words trailed off, Cara considered her Agiel, rolled it in her fingers. “I guess there is even less than ‘little’ danger—with me there.”

When they reached the richly carpeted and paneled corridor they were seeking, it was thick with soldiers and bristling with steel from swords, axes, and pikes. The man was being held in a small, elegant reading room near the rather simple one Richard liked to use for meeting with officers and for studying the journal he had found in the Wizard’s Keep. The soldiers hadn’t wanted to risk an escape attempt and had simply stuffed the man in the room nearest to the spot where they had found him, pinning him down until it could be decided what was to be done.

Kahlan gently took the elbow of a soldier to urge him back out of the way. The muscles of his bare arm felt as hard as iron. His pike, pointed toward the closed door, could have hardly been more steady had it been embedded in granite. There had to be fifty pikes likewise aimed at the silent door. More men, gripping swords or axes, hunkered beneath the pike points.

The guard turned as Kahlan tugged on his arm. “Let me through, soldier.”

The man gave way. Others glanced back and began moving aside. Cara shouldered her way ahead of Kahlan, pushing men out of the way. They did so reluctantly, not out of disrespect, but out of concern for the danger that waited beyond the door. Even as they moved aside, they kept their weapons trained on the thick oak door.

Inside, the windowless, dimly lit room smelled of leather and sweat. A lanky man squatted on the edge of an embroidered footstool. He seemed too spare, should he make the wrong move, to permit all the steel aimed at him to find a virgin patch to penetrate. His young eyes dithered among the steel and grim glares until he caught sight of Kahlan’s approaching white dress. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he looked up expectantly.

When the burly soldiers in leather and chain mail behind him saw Kahlan and Cara forcing their way into the room, one of them landed the side of his boot on the small of the young man’s back, pitching him forward.

“Kneel, you filthy cur.”

The young man, dressed in an outsized soldier’s uniform that looked to have been scrounged together from dissimilar sources, peered up at Kahlan, then over his shoulder at the man who had kicked him. He ducked his head of disheveled dark hair and shielded it with a gangly arm.

“That’s enough,” Kahlan said, her voice quietly authoritative. “Cara and I wish to speak with him. All of you, wait outside, please.”

The soldiers balked, reluctant to lift a weapon from the young man who still cowered on the floor.

“You heard her,” Cara said. “Out.”

“But—” an officer began.

“You doubt that a Mord-Sith is capable of handling this one scrawny man? Now, go wait outside.”

Kahlan was surprised

that Cara hadn’t raised her voice. Mord-Sith didn’t have to raise their voices to get people to follow their orders, but still it surprised her, considering Cara’s nervousness about the young man before them. The men began withdrawing, turning sideways to eye the intruder on the floor as they filed out the door. The knuckles of the officer’s fist on his sword hilt were white. As he backed out last, he gently closed the door with his other hand.

The young man looked up from under his arm to the two women standing three strides away. “Are you going to have me killed?”

Kahlan didn’t answer the question directly. “We have come to talk with you. I am Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor—”

“Mother Confessor!” He straightened on his knees. A boyish grin swept onto his face. “Why, you’re beautiful! I never expected you to be so beautiful.”

He put a hand to a knee and began to rise. Cara’s Agiel was instantly at the ready.

“Stay where you are.”

He froze, staring at the red Agiel before his face, and then lowered the knee back onto the fringe of the crimson carpet. Lamps on the fluted mahogany pilasters supporting shallow pediments over bookcases to each side of the room cast flickering light across his bony face. He was hardly more than a boy.

“Can I have my weapons back, please? I need my sword. If I can’t have that, then I’d like my knife, at least.”

Cara heaved an irritated sigh, but Kahlan spoke first. “You are in a very precarious position, young man. Neither of us is in the mood to be indulgent if this is some kind of prank.”