4 - Temple of the Winds, page 18
She saw death, dancing there.
The knuckles of both fists were white as he gripped the hilt He knew he couldn't deny the magic its will-if he was to have a chance. He loosed his wrath at this woman for abandoning her responsibility to protect Kahlan. Her arrogance could have ended Kahlan's life, ended his future, ended his reason for living He had entrusted his dearest love to her care, and she had failed in her duty to honor his faith
He could have returned to find Kahlan dead because of this woman on her knees before him. For no other reason.
Their eyes shared the madness of what they were doing, of what they each had become, of knowing that there was no other way-for either of them He committed to cleave her in two. The sword's wrath demanded it. He would accept no less. He envisioned it. He would have it. Her blood.
With a scream of rage, with all his strength, with all his fury and anger, he swung the blade down toward her face. The sword's tip whistled
In every detail, he could see the light glint off the polished blade as it swept through a streamer of sunlight He could see drops of his sweat sparkle in the sunlight, as if frozen in space He could have counted them. He could see where the blade would hit her. She could see where the blade was going to hit her. His muscles screamed with the effort as his lungs screamed with rage.
Between her eyes, an inch from her flesh, the blade stopped as solidly as if it had thunked into an impenetrable wall.
Sweat rolled down his face. His arms shook. The room echoed with the lingering sound of his cry of fury. At last, he withdrew the blade from over Cara.
She stared up with big, round, unblinking eyes She was panting in rapid, short breaths through her mouth. A long, low whine came from her throat. "There will be no execution," Richard said in a hoarse voice "How " she whispered, "how . . . could it do that? How could it stop like that?"
"I'm sorry, Cara, but the sword's magic has made the choice. It has chosen that you live You will have to abide by its decision "
Her eyes finally turned to look into his "You were going to do it. You were going to execute me " He slid the sword slowly into its scabbard. "Yes " "Then why am I not dead?"
"Because the magic decided otherwise. We can't question its judgment We must abide by it "
Richard had been reasonably sure that the sword's magic wouldn't harm Cara. The magic wouldn't let him harm one who was an ally. He had been counting on that
But there had been doubt. Cara had brought Kahlan within danger's grasp, though not intentionally. He wasn't entirely sun that doubt wouldn't cause the blade to take her. That was the way with the Sword of Truth's magic-one wasn't always entirely sure.
Zedd had told Richard when he had given him the sword that therein lay the danger. The sword destroyed an enemy, and spared a friend, but the sword's magic worked as a result of the view of its holder, not the truth. Zedd had told him that doubt could possibly cause the death of a friend, or allow the escape of a foe.
But he did know that if it was to work, he had to commit his entire being to the effort, otherwise Cara wouldn't believe the magic had spared her, and she would have credited it to him. Then she would have been obligated to do as she had promised.
His insides felt as if they were twisted into knots. His knees trembled. He had been sucked into a world of dread; he hadn't been positive that it would work as he had planned.
Worse, he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't made a mistake by sparing her. Richard cupped Cara's chin. "The Sword of Truth has made its choice. It chose for you to live, for you to have another chance. You must accept its decision." Cara nodded in his hand. "Yes, Lord Rahl."
He reached under her arm and helped her to her feet. He could hardly stand himself, and wondered if he had been in her place if he would be able to get to his feet as steadily as she. "I will do better in the future. Lord Rahl."
Richard pulled her head to his shoulder and held her tight for a moment, something he had been aching to do. Her arms slipped around him in grateful surrender. "That's all I ask, Cara."
As she headed for the door, Richard called her name. She turned back. "You still must be punished." Her eyes turned down. "Yes, Lord Rahl.'' "Tomorrow afternoon. You will have to learn to feed chipmunks." Her gaze came back up. "Lord Rahl?" "Do you wish to feed chipmunks?" "No, Lord Rahl."
"Then that's your punishment. Bring Berdine and Raina. They, too, are due some punishment."
Richard closed the door after her, leaned against it, and shut his eyes. The inferno of the sword's rage had consumed his anger. He was left empty and weak. He shook so badly he could hardly stand.
He was almost sick at the vivid memory of looking into her eyes as he brought the sword down with all his strength, expecting that he was going to kill her. He had been prepared for the spray of blood and bone. Cara's blood and bone. A person he cared about.
He had done what he had to, to save her life, but at what cost? The prophecy reeled through his head, and the nausea took him to his knees in a flash of cold sweat and dread.
CHAPTER 15
The soldiers he had stationed in the halls around the Mother Confessor's rooms stepped aside, each clapping a fist to the chain mail over his heart as Richard went by. He absently returned the salute as he swept past them, his gold cape billowing out behind. The soldiers crossed their pikes before the three Mord-Sith and two big bodyguards trailing him at a distance. When he had previously stationed the soldiers, he had given them a very short list of who was to be allowed through their positions. His five guards weren't on the list.
He glanced back to see Agiel come up into fists. He met Cara's eyes. The three Mord-Sith reluctantly released their weapons.
His five guards backed away from the challenge and set up their own guard post beyond the soldiers. With a hand signal from Cara, Raina and Ulic swiftly disappeared back down the hall. No doubt she had sent them to find another way around to guard the opposite end of the hall.
When he rounded the next to last corner before Kahlan's room, he saw Nadine sitting on a gilt-legged chair to the side of the hall. She was swinging her legs like a bored child waiting to go outside and play. When she saw him coming, she bounded up out of the chair.
She looked scrubbed and fresh. Her thick hair glistened. His brow twitched; her dress looked tighter than it had the day before. It seemed to fit closer to her ribs and hips, showing her alluring shape more than he remembered. He knew it was the same dress; he thought he must be imagining things. Seeing her figure displayed to such advantage reminded him that there had been a time . . .
She schooled her enthusiasm, twisting a strand of hair with a finger as she affected a smile. Her delight at seeing him faltered as he approached. She took a step back toward the wall as he stopped before her.
Nadine's gaze left his eyes. "Richard Good morning. I thought I heard someone say you were back already. I was"-she gestured toward Kahlan's room for an excuse to look away-''I came . . . to see how Kahlan was doing this morning. I, well, I need to put on a new poultice. I was just waiting until I was sure she was up, and-"
"Kahlan told me how you helped her. Thanks, Nadine. I appreciate it more than you could know."
She shrugged one shoulder. "We're hartlanders, you and I." In the thick silence she twisted a thread between her fingers. ' 'Tommy and skinny Rita Wellington got married."
Richard watched the top of her bowed head as she played with the thread. "I guess that was to be expected. That was what their parents wanted."
Nadine didn't look up from her thread. "He beats the stuffing out of her. I had to give her poultices and herbs one time when he made her bleed . . . you know,
down there. People say it's none of their business and pretend not to know it's happening."
Richard wasn't sure what she was getting at; he certainly wasn't going back to Hartland to rattle a conscience into Tom Lancaster's head. "Well, if he keeps at it, her brothers might end up giving him a lesson in cracked skulls."
Nadine didn't look up. "That could have been me." She cleared her throat. "I could have been married to Tommy, crying to anyone who'd listen about how . . . well, it could have been me. It could have been me pregnant, wondering if he'd beat me till I lost this one, too.
"I reckon I owe you, Richard. And you being a boy from Hartland and all . . . I just wanted to help if you were in trouble." She shrugged her one shoulder again. "Kahlan's real nice. Most women would have . . . I guess she's about the prettiest woman I ever saw. Nothing like me."
"I never figured you owed me anything, Nadine; I'd have done the same no matter who Tom had caught alone that day but you have my sincere gratitude for helping Kahlan."
"Sure. I guess that was stupid of me to think you stopped him because . . ." Richard realized by the way she sounded on the verge of tears that he hadn't put it very well, so he laid a hand tenderly on her shoulder. "Nadine, you've grown into a beautiful woman, too."
She peered up with a growing smile, "You think I'm beautiful?" She smoothed her blue dress at her hips.
"I didn't dance with you at the midsummer festival because you were still clumsy little Nadine Brighton."
She started winding the string again, ''I liked dancing with you. You know, I carved the initials 'N.C.' on my betrothal trunk. For Nadine Cypher." "I'm sorry. Nadine. Michael is dead."
She looked up with a frown. "Michael? No . . . that's not what it meant. It meant you."
Richard decided that this conversation had gone far enough. He had more important things to worry about.
"I'm Richard Rahl now. I can't live in the past. My future is with Kahlan." Nadine caught his arm as he started turning away. "I'm sorry. I know that. I know I made a big mistake. With Michael, I mean."
Richard caught himself just in time to bite off a caustic retort. What would be the purpose? "I appreciate that you helped Kahlan. I suppose you'll want to be heading home. Tell everyone I'm well. I'll be back for a visit when-" "Kahlan invited me to stay a while."
Richard was caught off guard; Kahlan had neglected to tell him that part of it. "Oh. And you wish to stay for a day or two?"
"Sure. I thought I'd like that. I've never been away from home before. If it's all right with you, I mean. I wouldn't wan to . . ."
Richard gently pulled his arm from her hand. "Fine. If she invited you, then it's fine with me."
She brightened, as if oblivious to the disapproval on his face. "Richard, did you see the moon last night? Everyone is abuzz about it. Did you see it? Was it as extraordinary, as remarkable, as they say?'' "That, and more," he whispered, his mood darkening. Before she could get in another word, he marched off.
His soft knock on the door produced a rotund woman in a staff uniform. Her ruddy face peered out through the narrow crack.
"Lord Rahl. Nancy is just helping the Mother Confessor get dressed. She'll be finished in a minute."
"Dressed!" he called to the closing door. The latch clicked into place. "She's supposed to be in bed!" he called through the heavy, ornately carved door.
Getting no response, he decided to wait rather than cause a scene. Once, when he looked up, he saw Nadine peeking around the corner. Her head swiftly disappeared back around the corner. He paced before the door until the rubicund woman finally opened it wide and held an arm out in invitation.
Richard stepped into the room, feeling as if he was entering another world. The Confessors' Palace was a place of splendor, power, and history, but the Mother Confessor's quarters were the place that, more than anywhere else in the palace, reminded him that he was really just a woods guide. It made him feel out of his element.
The Mother Confessor's rooms were a majestic, quiet sanctuary befitting the woman to whom knelt kings and queens. If Richard had seen this room before he came to know Kahlan, he wondered if he would have ever had the nerve to speak to her. Even now, it embarrassed him to recall teaching her to build snares and dig roots when he didn't know who, or what, she was.
It made him smile, though, to remember her eagerness to learn. He was thankful he had come to know the woman before he came to understand the post she filled, and the magic she wielded. He thanked the good spirits she had come into his life, and prayed she would be a part of it forever. She meant everything to him.
The three marble fireplaces in the Mother Confessor's sitting room were ablaze. The heavy drapes on the ten-foot-tall windows hung open slightly, forming tall slits, letting in only enough light, muted by the sheer panels behind, to make lamps unnecessary. He guessed that bright sunlight was inappropriate in a sanctuary. There were only a few houses in Hartland that wouldn't fit in this room alone.
On a glossy, gold-embellished mahogany table to the side sat a silver tray with tea, soup, biscuits, sliced pears, and brown bread. None of it had been touched. The sight reminded him that he hadn't eaten since noon the day before, but failed to summon his appetite.
The three women in crisp gray dresses with white lace collars and cuffs watched him expectantly, as if waiting to see if he would dare to simply walk in on the Mother Confessor, or fall into a show of some other scandalous behavior.
Richard glanced at the door at the far end of the room, his sense of propriety making him ask the obvious. "Is she dressed?"
The one who had cracked the door before reddened. "I wouldn't have let you in, sir, had she not been."
"Of course." He headed soundlessly across the plush, dark-hued carpets. He stopped and turned back. They watched like three owls. "Thank you, ladies. That will be all."
They bowed and reluctantly took their leave. He realized as the last one stole a quick glance over her shoulder while pulling the door closed that they probably considered it the height of indecency for a man engaged to a woman to be alone with her in her bedroom. Doubly so for the Mother Confessor.
Richard forced out an annoyed breath; whenever he was anywhere near the Mother Confessor's rooms, some member of the staff always managed to show up every other minute checking to see if she needed anything. The variety of things they suspected she might be needing never failed to surprise him. He sometimes expected one of them to come right out and ask her if she might need her virtue protected. Outside her rooms the staff was friendly, even joking with him when he put them at ease, or helped them carry things. A few were afraid of him. But not in her rooms. In her rooms, they all turned into bold, protective mother hawks.
Inside the bedroom, against the far paneled wall, stood the huge bed, its four great dark polished posts rising up like columns before a palace. The thick, embroidered bedcover cascaded down the sides of the bed like a colorful waterfall frozen in place. A slash of sunlight cut across the dark, sumptuous carpets and over the lower half of the bed.
Richard remembered Kahlan describing her bed to him, telling him how she couldn't wait to have him in it, when they were married. He very much wanted to be in bed with her; it had been since that night between worlds that he had been alone with her-in that way-but he had to admit that he was intimidated by that bed of hers. He thought he might lose her in it. She had promised there would be no chance of that.
Kahlan was standing at the row of glassed doors before the expansive balcony, looking out past the open curtain. She was staring out over the stone railings and up toward the Keep on the mountainside. The sight of her in her satiny white dress flowing smoothly over her ravishing curves, with her dazzling mane cascading down her back, nearly took his breath. The sight of her made him ache. He decided that the bed would be just fine.
When he tenderly touched her shoulder, she started.
She turned, a beaming smile on her face as she looked up at him. "I thought you were Nancy, come back in."
"What do you mean, you thought I was Nancy? You didn't know it was me?" "How would I know it was you?"
He shrugged. "Because. I always can tell when it's you who's walked into a room. I don't have to see you." Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "You cannot." "Of course I can." "How?"
"You have a unique fragrance. I know the sounds you make, the sound of your breathing, the way you move, the way you pause. They're all unique to you." Her frown grew. "You're not kidding" You mean it? You're serious?" "Of course. Can't you tell me by those things?"
''No. But I guess you've spent much of your life in the woods, watching, smelling, listening." She slipped her good arm around his. "I still don't know if I believe you."
"Then test me some time." Richard stroked his fingers down her hair. "How are you feeling? How's your arm?"
"I'm all right. It's not so bad. Not as bad as that time elder Toffalar cut me. Remember? That was worse than this."
He nodded. "What are you doing out of bed? You were told to rest." She pushed at his stomach. "Stop. I'm fine." She looked him up and down.
"And you look more than fine. I can't believe you had that made for me. You look magnificent. Lord Rahl."
Richard tenderly met her lips. She tried to pull him into a more passionate kiss, but he pulled back. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he said.
"Richard, I'm fine, really. I was exhausted before because I used my power, along with all the rest of it. People mistook that for me being hurt worse than I was."
He appraised her for a long moment, before bending to the kind of kiss he had been longing to give her.
"That's better," she breathed on parting. She pushed back. "Richard, did you see Cara? You left so quickly, and you had that look in your eye. I didn't have time to really talk to you. It wasn't her fault." "I know. You told me." "You didn't yell at her, did you?" "We had a talk."
She squinted. "Talk. What did she have to say for herself? She didn't try to tell you that she was . . . ?" "What's Nadine still doing here?"
She was looking at him. She snatched his wrist. "Richard, you have blood on you . . . your arm . . ."
She looked up in alarm. "What did you do? Richard . . . you didn't hurt her, did you?" She lifted his arm higher into the light. "Richard, this looks like ... like when you..."
She seized his shirt. "You didn't hurt her? Tell me that you didn't hurt her!" "She wanted to be executed. She gave me the choice of doing it, or she would. So I used the sword, like that time with the Mud People elders." "She's all right? She's all right, isn't she?" "She's all right."
