Temple of the Winds

Chapter 13

Nadine paused at her work on the wax seal. “Who . . . ?”

“He’s some kind of healer,” Kahlan whispered as she watched the man’s methodical descent. “From D’Hara. I was told he came to offer his services to Richard. I think he’s an important person.”

Nadine grunted dismissively. “What’s he going to do without any herbs or things?” She leaned closer while watching him. “He doesn’t seem to have anything with him.”

Kahlan shushed her. Stone dust crunched under his boots as he turned, the sound echoing in the hush of the pit. He approached in measured strides. The torch was on the wall behind him, so Kahlan couldn’t see his features in the deeply cowled hood of the voluminous, coarse flaxen cloak that hung to the floor. He was as tall as Richard, with shoulders just as wide.

“Mord-Sith,” he observed in a voice hat was smooth and authoritative, some thing like Richard’s, too.

He brought a hand out of his cloak and gestured. Kahlan complied, laying Cara on her back on the stone floor. With the way he seemed to study Cara’s shivering, Kahlan didn’t want to interrupt for introductions. She just wanted someone to help Cara.

“What happened to her?” he asked from the shadow of the cowl, in a voice just as deep and dark.

“She had control of a man who—”

“He had the gift? She was linked with him?”

“Yes,” Kahlan said. “That’s what she called it.” He made a sound in his throat, as if mentally assimilating the information. “It turned out that the man was possessed by a dream walker and—”

“What’s a dream walker?”

“A person, as I understand it, who can invade another person’s mind by slipping into the spaces between their thoughts. He gains control of them in this way. He was covertly possessing this man that she linked with.”

He considered a moment. “I see. Go on.”

“We came down here to question the man—”

“To torture him.”

Kahlan pulled an irritated breath. “No. I told Cara that we were simply going to question him to get answers, if we could. The man was an assassin sent to kill Lord Rahl, and if he didn’t answer the questions, then Cara was prepared to do what she must to get those answers—to protect Lord Rahl.

“But it never got that far. We discovered that this dream walker had control of him, control of his gift. The dream walker used the man’s gift to write a prophecy in the stone behind you.”

The healer didn’t turn to look. “Then what?”

“Then he was going to escape and start killing people. Cara tried to stop him—”

“With her link?”

“Yes. She let out a scream like I’ve never heard before and fell to the ground holding her ears.” Kahlan inclined her head. “Nadine here, and I, went after the man when he tried to escape. Fortunately, he was killed. When we got back, we found Cara on the floor, in convulsions.”

“You shouldn’t have left her alone. She could have choked to death on her own vomit.”

Kahlan pressed her lips together and remained silent. The man just stood there, watching Cara shudder.

Finally, Kahlan could bear it no longer. “This is one of Lord Rahl’s personal guards. She’s important. Do you intend to help her, or you just going to stand there?”

“Quiet,” he commanded in a distracted tone. “One must observe before one acts, or more harm than help can be the result.”

Kahlan glowered at the shadowed form. At last he sank to his knees and sat back on his heels. He lifted Cara’s wrist in one of his big hands, working a finger between her glove and sleeve. He flicked his other hand out over the items on the floor. “What’s all this?”

“They’re my things,” Nadine said. Her chin rose. “I’m a healer.” Still holding Cara’s wrist, the man picked up a leather pouch with his other hand, looking at its markings. He set it down and then scooped the two horns from Nadine’s lap.

“Feverfew,” he said as he tossed it back in Nadine’s lap. He looked at the symbols on the other. “Betony.” He tossed it back in her lap with the first. “You’re not a healer.” he said. “You’re an herb woman.”

“How dare you—”

“Did you give her any of your medicines, besides the oil of lavender?”

“How did . . . I’ve not had time to give her anything else.”

“Good,” he proclaimed. “The oil of lavender won’t help her, but at least it won’t harm her.”

“Well, of course I know it’s not going to stop the convulsions. It was just to help ease some of her pain. I was going to give her tincture of maypop for that.”

“Were you now? Fortunate that I arrived in time, then.”

Nadine folded her arms across her breasts. “Why’s that?”

“Because tincture of maypop would likely have killed her.”

Nadine scowled as she unfolded her arms and planted fists on her hips. “Maypop is a powerful sedative. It would likely have halted her convulsions. If you hadn’t interfered, I’d have her recovered by now.”

“Is that so? Did you feel her pulse?”

“No.” Nadine paused warily. “Why? What difference could that possibly make?

“Her pulse is weak, staggering, and labored. This woman is struggling with all her strength to keep her heart beating. Had you given her your maypop, it would have done as you said: sedated her. Her heart would have stopped.”

“I . . . I can’t see how . . .”

“Even a simple herb woman should know to use more caution when dealing with magic.”

“Magic.” Nadine wilted. “I’m from Westland. I’ve never seen magic before. I didn’t know magic had any effect on healing herbs. I’m sorry.”

He ignored the apology and pointed. “Undo the buttons and open the top of her outfit.”

“Why?” Nadine asked.

“Do it! Or do you favor watching her die? She can’t hold on much longer.”

Nadine leaned forward and began undoing the row of little red leather buttons along the side of Cara’s ribs. When she finished, he gestured for her to open it. Nadine glanced up at Kahlan. Kahlan gave her a nod, and she pulled back the supple leather, exposing Cara’s chest.

“May I ask your name?” Kahlan asked him.

“Drefan.” Instead of asking hers, he put an ear to the center of Cara’s chest, listening.

He shifted around, forcing Kahlan to scoot out of the way, until he was at Cara’s head. He briefly inspected the bloody wound above her left ear, and then, seeming to dismiss it as unimportant, went on to systematically probe the base of her neck.

Kahlan could only see the side of his deep cowl, and nothing of his face. The single torch didn’t provide much light, anyway. Drefan leaned forward and gripped Cara’s breasts in his big hands. Kahlan sat up straighter. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Examining her.”

“Is that what you call it?”

He sat back on his heels. “Feel her breasts.”

“Why?”

“To see what I discovered.”

Kahlan finally turned from the shadow of his cowl and, rather than grabbing her as he had, put the back of her fingers against the side of Cara’s left breast. It was hot-burning with a fever. She felt the other. It was ice cold.

When Drefan gestured, Nadine followed suit. “What does it mean?” she asked.

“I’d like to reserve judgment until I’ve finished examining her, but it’s not good.”

He put his fingers to the side of her neck, feeling her pulse again. He ran his thumbs outward along her forehead. He tent and put his ear to each of hers. He smelled her breath. He carefully lifted her head and rotated it. He spread her arms out to the sides, pulled the red leather outfit open further so that Cara’s torso was naked to her waist, and then bent over her and palpated her abdomen and up under her ribs.

With his head bent as if in concentration, he touched his fingers to the front of her shoulders for a moment, the sides of her neck, the base of her skull, her temples, several places on her ribs, and lastly to the palms of her hands.

Kahlan was getting impatient. She was seeing a lot of probing and prodding, but very little healing. “Well?”

“Her aura is seriously snarled,” he said, as he brazenly thrust a big hand under the red leather at Cara’s waist.

Kahlan watched in stunned disbelief as his hand slid down to her crotch. She could see his fingers under the tight leather as he worked them into her sex.

Hard as she could, Kahlan fisted him on the nerve at the side of his upper arm. He recoiled in pain. He fell to the side of his hip with a groan, covering his arm where she had clouted him.

“I told you, this is an important woman! How dare you grope her like that! I won’t have it, do you understand?”

“I wasn’t groping her,” he growled.

The heat was still in Kahlan’s voice. “Then what do you call it?”

“I was trying to determine what this dream walker has done to her. He’s greatly disturbed her auras, her energy flows, confusing her mind’s control of her body.

“She’s not in convulsions, precisely. She’s having uncontrolled muscular contractions. I was checking to make sure that he hadn’t triggered the part of her brain that controls excitement. I was making sure that he hadn’t put her in a state of continual orgasm. I have to know the extent of the blocks and triggers he’s disturbed so that I know how to reverse it.”

Nadine, eyes widening, leaned forward. “Magic can do such a thing? Make a person have . . . continual . . .”

He nodded as he flexed his sore arm. “If the practitioner knows what he’s doing.”

“Can you do such a thing?” she breathed.

“No. I don’t have the gift, or any other form of magic, but I know how to heal—if the damage isn’t too great.” The cowl turned toward Kahlan. “Now, do you wish me to continue, or do you want to watch her die?”

“Continue. But if you put your hand down there again, you are going to be a one-handed healer.”

“I’ve already learned what I needed to know.”

Nadine leaned in again. “Is she . . . ?”

“No.” He flicked his hand irritably. “Pull off her boots.” Nadine shuffled around and did as he had ordered. He turned a bit toward Kahlan, as if peering at her from the depths of his cowl. “Did you know to hit that particular nerve in my arm with deliberate knowledge, or did you simply get lucky?”

Kahlan studied the shadow, trying to see his eyes. She couldn’t. “I was trained to do such things: to defend myself, and others.”

“I’m impressed. With such understanding of nerves, you could learn to heal instead of hurt.” He turned his attention to Nadine. “Depress the third anterior axis of the dorsin meridian.”

Nadine made a face. “What?”

He waggled his hand, pointing. “Between the tendon at the back of her ankles and the prominent bone sticking out to the sides. Squeeze there with a thumb and one finger. Both ankles.”

Nadine did as she was told while Drefan pressed behind Cara’s ears with his little fingers and at the same time on the tops of her shoulders with his thumbs. “Harder, woman.” He put both palms, one hand atop the other, on Cara’s sternum. “Second meridian,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Move down half an inch and do it again. Both ankles.” He moved his fingers on Cara’s skull, concentrating on what he was doing. “All right. First meridian.”

“Another half inch down?” Nadine asked.

“Yes, yes, hurry.”

He held Cara’s elbows between a thumb and finger as he lifted them a few inches.

Finally, he sat back on his heels with a sigh. “This is astounding,” he muttered to himself. “This is not good.”

“What is it?” Kahlan asked “Are you saying that you can’t help her?”

He waved dismissively, as if too distracted to answer.

“Answer me,” Kahlan insisted.

“If I wish you to bother me, woman, I will ask.”

Nadine leaned forward, cocking her head. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” She pointed with her chin, indicating Kahlan.

He was feeling Cara’s earlobes. “By the looks of her, I’d say some mucker on the cleaning staff. One in need of a bath.”

“I’ve just had a bath,” Kahlan said under her breath.

Nadine’s voice lowered with import. “You’d better show some respect, Mister Healer. She’s the one who owns this palace. The whole thing. She’s the Mother Confessor herself.”

He ran a finger down the inside of Cara’s upper arms. “Is that so? Well, good for her. Now, be quiet, the both of you.”

“She’s also the betrothed of Lord Richard Rahl himself.”

Drefan’s hands froze. His whole body stiffened.

“And since Lord Richard Rahl is the Master of D’Hara, and you’re from D’Hara,” Nadine went on, “I reckon that makes him the boss of you. If I were you, I’d be showing a lot more respect for Lord Richard Rahl’s future wife. He doesn’t like it when people don’t show respect for women. I’ve seen him knock out people’s teeth for being disrespectful.”

Drefan hadn’t moved a muscle.

Kahlan thought Nadine had put it very crudely, but she doubted it could have been any more effective.

“Not only that,” Nadine added, “but she’s the one who killed the assassin. With magic.”

Drefan finally cleared his throat. “Forgive me, mistress—”

“Mother Confessor,” Kahlan corrected.

“I most humbly beg your forgiveness . . . Mother Confessor. I had no idea. I had no intention to cause—”

Kahlan cut him off. “I understand. You were more concerned with healing Cara, here, than with formalities. So am I. Can you help her?”

“I can.”

“Please, get on with it then.”

He immediately turned back to Cara. Kahlan frowned as she watched his hands gliding in patterns over the supine woman, keeping just above her flesh. His hands paused occasionally, fingers trembling with effort at an invisible task.

From Cara’s feet, Nadine folded her arms again. “You call this healing? My herbs would have had a better effect than this piffle, and a lot sooner, too.”

He looked up. “Piffle? Is that what you think this is? Just some nonsense? Do you have the slightest idea, young lady, what we’re dealing with?”

“A paroxysm. It must be ended, not prayed over.”

He rose up on his knees. “I am the Raug’Moss High Priest. I am not given to praying for my healings.” Nadine snorted derisively. He nodded, as if deciding something. “You wish to see what we’re dealing with? You want proof your simple herb woman eyes can understand?”

Nadine scowled. “In view of the lack of results, a little proof would be a fine dish.”

He pointed. “I saw a horn of mugwort. Give it here. I presume you have a taper in that bag; bring it, too, after you light it.”

As Nadine took the candle to the torch to light it, Drefan opened his cloak and took several items from a pouch. Nadine handed him the lit candle. He dripped hot wax on the floor to the side and stuck the taper in it.

Drefan reached under his cloak and pulled out a long, thin-bladed knife. He leaned over and pressed it between Cara’s breasts. A ruby drop grew under the point. He set the knife aside and leaned over her. With a long-handled spoon, he skimmed the blood from her flesh.

He sat back, unstopped the horn Nadine had given him, and dumped some mugwort atop the blood in the spoon. “You call this mugwort! You’re only supposed to collect the fluffy underside of the leaf. You’ve got the whole leaf mixed in with it.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s all mugwort.”

“A very low grade, this way. You ought to know to use a high-grade mugwort. What sort of herb woman are you, anyway?”

Nadine squinted in indignation. “It works just fine. Are you trying to find an excuse to get out of showing us that you know what you’re doing? Are you trying to blame your failure on the grade of mugwort?”

“The grade is more than good enough for my purpose, but not for yours.” His tone turned instructional, if not polite. “Next time, purify the sample you collect, and you will find it to be of more help to those who need it.”

He hunched over, holding the spoor to the point of the candle flame until the mugwort ignited, giving off a copious amount of smoke and a heavy, musky odor. Drefan circled the smoking spoon over Cara’s stomach, letting the layer of smoke build.

He handed the spoon of smoking mugwort to Nadine. “Hold this between her feet.”

He put his fingers to his temples as he murmured a chant under his breath. He took his hands from his head. “Now, watch, and you will see what I can see, what I can feel, without the smoke.”

He put his thumbs to Cara’s temples and his little fingers to the sides of her throat.

The thick layer of mugwort smoke jumped.

Kahlan gasped as she saw ropy lines of smoke coiling and snaking all over Cara. Drefan removed his hands and the smoke trails snapped into a still web of lines. Some arched from her sternum to her breasts, her shoulders, her hips, and her thighs. A tangle of lines went from the top half of her head to points all over her body.

Drefan traced one with a finger. “See this one? From her left temple to her left leg? Watch.” He pressed his fingers to the base of her skull on the left side, and the line of smoke crossed to her right leg. “There. That’s where it belongs.”

“What is all that?” Kahlan asked in astonishment.

“Her meridian lines: the flow of her force, her life. Her aura. It’s more than that, too, but it’s hard to put it all into a few words for you. What I have done is nothing more than the way a shaft of sunlight shows you the dust motes floating in the air.”

Nadine, her mouth hanging open, sat frozen, holding the smoking spoon. “How did you make the line move?”

“By using my life force to compel a healing energy shift where it was needed.”

“Then you have magic,” Nadine breathed.

“No, training. Squeeze her ankles, where you did the first time.”

Nadine set the spoon down and squeezed Cara’s ankles. The tangle of lines going down Cara’s legs twisted and untangled, moving from her hips to her feet in straight lines.

“There,” Drefan said. “You have just corrected her legs. See how they’ve stilled?”

“I did that?” Nadine asked incredulously.

“Yes. But that was the easy part. See here?” He indicated the web of lines coming from her head. “This is the dangerous part of what this dream walker did. It has to be undone. These lines indicate that she can’t control her muscles. She can’t speak, and she’s been blinded. Look here. This line going from her ears outward and then back to her forehead? That’s the only one that’s correct. She can hear and understand everything we say; she just can’t react to it.”

Kahlan’s jaw dropped. “She can hear us?”

“Every word. Rest assured, she knows, we’re trying to help her. Now, if you please, I need to concentrate. This all has to be done in the correct order or we’ll lose her.”

Kahlan whisked her hands toward him. “Of course. Do what you need to do to help her.”

Drefan hunched to his task, working his way around Cara’s body, pressing fingers or the flats of his hands to various places on her. At times he used the knife point. He never drew more than a drop of blood is he pressed it into her flesh. At nearly each thing he did, some of the ropy lines of smoke moved, untangling, some laying down against Cara’s body and others curving outward in a smooth arch before returning to a spot he had attended.

When he compressed the flesh between her thumb and first finger, not only did the smoke lines over her arms straighten, but Cara moaned in relief as she twisted her head and rolled her shoulders. It was the first normal response of any kind Cara had given. When he pierced the tops of her ankles with his knife, she gasped and began to breathe with a steady, if rapid, rhythm. Relief and hope flooded through Kahlan.

He at last had moved all the way around her, and was working at her head, pressing his thumbs along the bridge of her nose and across her forehead. Her whole body was still, no longer shaking and quivering. Her chest rose and fell without effort.

He pressed the knife point between her eyebrows. “That should take care of it,” he murmured to himself.

Cara’s blue eyes opened. They searched about until they found Kahlan. “I heard your words,” she whispered. “Thank you, my sister.”

Kahlan smiled her relief. She knew what Cara meant. Cara had, after all, heard Kahlan tell her that she wasn’t alone. “I got Marlin.”

Cara smiled. “You make me proud to serve with you. I regret that you have gone to all this effort healing me for nothing.”

Kahlan frowned, not knowing what she meant. Cara rolled her head back, looking up at Drefan as he hunched over her. “How do you feel?” he asked. “Is everything feeling normal now?”

Her brow drew together with a look of foggy confusion bordering on alarm. “Lord Rahl?” she asked incredulously.

“No, I’m Drefan.”

With both hands, he laid back his cowl. Kahlan’s eyes went wide, along with Nadine’s.

“But my father, too, was Darken Rahl. I am Lord Rahl’s half brother.”

Kahlan stared in wonder. Same size, same muscular build as Richard. Blond hair, like Darken Rahl’s, although shorter and not so straight. Richard’s hair was darker, and coarser. Drefan’s eyes, piercing blue like Darken Rahl’s, rather than gray like Richard’s, nonetheless bore the same cutting, raptor rake. His features possessed that impossibly handsome perfection of a statue that Darken Rahl’s had; Richard hadn’t inherited that cruel perfection. Drefan’s looks, somewhere in the middle, leaned more toward Darken Rahl than Richard.

But while no one would mistake Drefan for Richard, they would have no trouble telling that they were brothers.

She wondered why Cara had made that mistake. Then she saw the Agiel in Cara’s fist. That wasn’t what Cara had meant by “Lord Rahl.” In a confused state, looking at him upside down as she regained consciousness, she hadn’t thought he was Richard. She had thought he was Darken Rahl.