Temple of the Winds

Chapter 2

“Now,” Cara said in a dangerous voice, “can I kill him?”

The incongruous nature of this harmless-looking, skinny young man, kneeling, seemingly helpless, in enemy territory, surrounded by hundreds, thousands of brutish D’Haran soldiers, saying so openly and confidently that he intended to assassinate Richard, had Kahlan’s heart hammering against her ribs.

No one was this foolish.

She realized, only after the fact, that she had retreated a step. She ignored Cara’s question and kept her attention riveted on the young man.

“And just how do you think you could accomplish such a task?”

“Well,” he said in an offhanded manner as he exhaled, “I had designs on using my sword, or if I must, my knife.” His smile returned, but it was no longer boyish. His eyes had taken on a steely set that belied his young face. “That’s why I need them back, you see.”

“You’ll not be getting your weapons back.”

Disdain powered the dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “No matter. I have other ways to kill him.”

“You’ll not be killing Richard; you have my word on that. Your only hope, now, is to cooperate and tell us everything of your plan. How did you get in here?”

His smirk mocked her. “Walked. Walked right in. No one paid me any mind. They’re not too smart, your men.”

“They’re smart enough to have you under their swords,” Cara pointed out.

He ignored her. His eyes remained locked on Kahlan’s.

“And if we don’t let you have your sword and knife back,” she asked, “then what?”

“Then things will get messy. Richard Rahl will only suffer greatly. That’s why Emperor Jagang sent me: to offer him the mercy of a quick death. The emperor is a man of compassion, and wishes to avoid any undue suffering; he is basically a man of peace, the dream walker, but also one of iron determination.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to be killing you, too, Mother Confessor: to spare you the suffering of what’s to come if you resist. I have to admit, though, that I don’t like the idea of killing such a beautiful woman.” The grin widened. “Rather a waste.”

Kahlan found his confidence grating. To hear him claim that the dream walker was compassionate turned her stomach. She knew better.

“What suffering?”

He spread his hands. “I am but a grain of sand. The emperor does not share his plans with me. I am but simply sent to do his bidding. His bidding is that you and Richard are to be eliminated. If you don’t let me kill him mercifully, then Richard will be destroyed. I’m told that it won’t be pleasant, so why don’t you just let me get it over with?”

“You must be dreaming,” Cara said.

His gaze shifted to the Mord-Sith. “Dreaming? Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe I’m your worst nightmare.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” Cara said. “I give them.”

“Really?” he taunted. “In that ridiculous outfit? What are you pretending to be, anyway? Maybe you’re dressed like that to scare the birds away from the spring planting?”

Kahlan realized that the man didn’t know what a Mord-Sith was, but she wondered how she could ever have thought he looked hardly more than a boy; his demeanor was one of age and experience. This was no boy. The air crackled with peril. Remarkably, Cara only smiled.

Kahlan’s breathing stilled when she realized the man was standing, and she couldn’t recall seeing him come to his feet.

His gaze shifted, and one of the lamps went dark. The remaining lamp cast harsh, flickering light against one side of his face, letting the other side hide in shadow, but, for Kahlan, that act had brought his nature, his true threat, out of the shadows.

This man commanded the gift.

Her resolve to spare a possible innocent unnecessary violence evaporated with the heat of need to protect Richard. This man had been given a chance; now he was going to confess all he knew—he was going to confess it to a Confessor.

She had but to touch him, and it would be over.

Kahlan had walked among the thousands of corpses of innocent people slaughtered by the Order. When she had seen the women and children in Ebinissia, butchered at Jagang’s command, she had sworn undying vengeance against the Imperial Order. This man had proven himself to be part of the Imperial Order, and the enemy of free people. He did the dream walker’s bidding.

She focused on the familiar flush of magic deep within herself, always at the ready. A Confessor’s magic wasn’t released so much as her restraint on it was simply withdrawn. The act was faster even than thought. It was the lightning of instinct.

No Confessor enjoyed using her power to destroy a person’s mind, but unlike some Confessors, Kahlan didn’t hate what she did, what she was born to; it was simply part of who she was. She didn’t maliciously use what she was given, but used her magic to protect others. She was at peace with herself, with what she was and what she could do.

Richard was the first to see her for herself, and care about her despite her power. He didn’t irrationally fear the unknown, fear what she was. Instead, he had come to know her, and to love her, Confessor’s power and all. For that reason only, he could be with her without her power destroying him when they shared their love.

She intended to use that power, now, to protect Richard, and for that reason it was as close as she ever came to valuing her ability. She had but to touch this man and the threat would be eliminated. Retribution was at hand for a willing minion of Emperor Jagang.

Keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the man, Kahlan held up an admonishing finger to Cara. “He’s mine. Leave this to me.”

But when his squinting gaze sought the remaining lamp, Cara swept between them. The air cracked as she backhanded him with her armored glove. Kahlan nearly screamed in rage at the interference.

Sprawled across the carpet, the man sat up, looking genuinely surprised. Blood ran down his chin from a split in his lower lip. His look changed to genuine displeasure.

Cara towered over him. “What is your name?” Kahlan couldn’t believe that Cara, who had always professed to fear magic, seemed to be deliberately provoking a man who had just shown his command of it.

He rolled away from her and into a crouch. His eyes were on Kahlan, but he spoke to Cara. “I don’t have time for court buffoons.”

With a smile, his gaze flicked to the lamp. The room plunged into darkness.

Kahlan dove for the spot on the floor where he hunkered. She had but to touch him and it would be over.

She caught only air before hitting the empty floor. In the pitch black, she wasn’t sure which way he had darted. She snatched wildly, trying to net a part of him. She needed but to touch him, and even his thick clothes wouldn’t protect him. She seized an arm, and only an instant before releasing her power realized that it was the leather Cara wore.

“Where are you!” Cara growled. “You can’t get away. Give it up.”

Kahlan scrambled across the carpet. Power or not, they needed light, or they were going to be in a great deal of trouble. She found the bookcase against the wall and felt along its lower ledge until she saw a faint sliver of light coming from beneath the door. Men were banging on the other side, calling out, wanting to know if there was trouble.

Her fingers skimmed up the edge of the molded stile of the door, toward the handle, as she lurched to her feet. She stepped on the hem of her dress and tripped, stumbling forward, landing on her elbows with a bone-jarring thud.

Something heavy smashed into the door where she had almost stood a moment before, and crashed down onto her back. The man laughed in the darkness. As she flailed to shove the thing off, her arms whacked painfully against the sharp edges of the stretcher bars of a chair’s legs. She grappled an upholstered armrest and rolled the chair off to the side.

Kahlan heard the air driven from Cara’s lungs with a grunt as she slammed into a bookcase on the other side of the room. The men on the other side of the door pounded into it, trying to break it down. The door wasn’t budging.

As books across the room were still tumbling and thudding to the floor, Kahlan sprang up and groped for the handle. Her knuckles struck the cold metal of the lever. She slapped her hand over it.

With a shriek, she was thrown back from a sudden flash and landed on her bottom. Like sparks from a flaming log struck with a poker, a shower of flashes from the handle filled the air. Her fingers stung and tingled from touching the shield. Small wonder the men couldn’t open the door. As she regained her feet, recovering from the shock, Kahlan could see again by the flickering sparkles of light that still slowly drifted toward the floor.

Suddenly Cara could see, too. She snatched a book and flung it at the man near the center of the small room. He ducked into a squat.

Quick as a slap, Cara spun, catching him off guard. The air resounded with a hard thud as her boot nailed his jaw. The blow drove him backward. Kahlan took aim to leap for him before all the sparks extinguished and it went dark again.

“You die first!” he railed in rage at Cara. “I’ll have no more of your trifling interference! You’ll taste my power!”

The air at his fingertips lit with glimmering flashes as he leveled his full attention on Cara. Kahlan had to deal with the threat now, before anything else went wrong.

But before she could leap for him, his curled fingers twitched up. With a contemptuous sneer, he thrust one hand toward Cara.

Kahlan expected Cara to be the one on the floor next. Instead, the young man crumpled with a cry. He tried to stand, but collapsed with a shriek, hugging himself as if he had been stabbed in the gut. The room went black again.

Kahlan reached for the door lever, taking a chance that whatever Cara had done to him had broken his shield. Wincing against the pain she feared might still be waiting, she seized the handle. The shield was gone. Relieved, she twisted the lever and yanked the door open. Light from behind the crowd of soldiers pierced into the dark room. Confounded faces peered in.

Kahlan didn’t need a roomful of men getting themselves killed while trying to save her from things they didn’t understand. She shoved the closest man back.

“He has the gift! Stay out!” She knew that D’Harans feared magic. They depended on the Lord Rahl to fight magic. They were the steel against steel, they often said, and Lord Rahl was supposed to be the magic against magic. “Give me a lamp!”

Men to each side simultaneously snatched lamps from brackets beside the door and held them out. Kahlan grabbed one and kicked the door shut as she turned back to the room. She didn’t want a pack of muscle-bound, weapon-wielding men to get in her way.

In the wavering glow from the lamp, Kahlan saw Cara squat down on the crimson carpet beside the man. He clutched his arms across his abdomen as he vomited blood. Her red leather outfit creaked as she rested her forearms on her knees. She was rolling her Agiel in her fingers, waiting.

Once his retching had ceased, Cara snatched a fistful of his hair. Her long blond braid slid across the back of her broad shoulders as she leaned closer.

“That was a big mistake. A very big mistake,” she said with silky satisfaction. “You should never have tried to use your magic against a Mord-Sith. You had it right for a moment, but then you let me make you angry enough to use your magic. Who’s the fool now?”

“What’s . . . a . . . Mord-Sith?” he managed between gasps.

Cara twisted his head upward until he cried out. “Your worst nightmare. The purpose of a Mord-Sith is to eliminate threats like you.

“I now command your magic. It’s mine to use, and you, my pet, are helpless to do anything about it, as you will soon learn. You should have tried to strangle me, or beat me to death, or to run, but you should never, ever, have tried to use magic against me. Once you use your magic against a Mord-Sith, it’s hers.”

Kahlan stood transfixed. That was what a Mord-Sith had done to Richard. That was how he had been captured.

Cara pressed her Agiel against the man’s ribs. He shivered as he screamed. Blood soaked through his tunic in a spreading stain.

“Now, when I ask a question,” she said in a quiet, authoritative tone, “I expect an answer. Do you understand?”

He remained silent. She twisted the Agiel. Kahlan winced when she heard his rib pop. He flinched and gasped, holding his breath, unable to scream.

Kahlan felt as if she were frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. Richard had told her that Denna, the Mord-Sith who had captured him, had liked to crack his ribs. It made each breath agony, and screaming, which she soon provoked, excruciating torture. It also left the victim that much more helpless.

Cara rose. “Stand.”

The man staggered to his feet.

“You are about to find out why I wear blood red leather.” Unleashing a mighty swing, launched with an angry cry, Cara clouted his face with her armored fist. As he went down, blood sprayed across the bookcase. As soon as he hit the floor, she straddled him, a boot to each side of his hips.

“I can see what you’re envisioning,” Cara told him. “I saw the vision of what you want to do to me. Naughty boy.” She stomped a boot down on his sternum. “That was the least of what you will suffer for that thought. You had better learn real fast to keep ideas of resistance out of your mind. Got it?

She bent and drove her Agiel into his gut. “Got it?”

His scream sent a shiver up Kahlan’s spine. She was sickened by what she was watching, having once felt the profoundly painful touch of an Agiel, but worse, knowing that this was what had been done to Richard, and yet she didn’t make a move to stop it.

She had offered this man mercy. If he had had his way, he would have killed Richard. He had promised to kill her, too, but it was that threat against Richard that kept her silent, and prevented her from stopping Cara.

“Now.” Cara said with a sneer. She jabbed her Agiel against his cracked rib. “What is your name?”

“Marlin Pickard!” He tried to blink away the tears. A sheen of sweat covered his face. Blood frothed at his mouth as he panted.

She pressed her Agiel against his groin. Marlin’s feet kicked out helplessly as he wailed.

“The next time I ask a question, don’t make me wait for an answer. And you will address me as Mistress Cara.”

“Cara,” Kahlan said in a quiet tone, still seeing the vision of Richard in place of the man, “there is no need to . . .”

Cara looked over her shoulder, glaring with cold blue eyes. Kahlan turned away and with trembling fingers wiped a tear as it rolled down her cheek. She lifted the glass chimney of the lamp on the wall and used the one she held to light it. When the wick took to flame, she set her lamp down on a side table and replaced its chimney. It was frightening to see the cold look in those Mord-Sith eyes. Her heart pounded at the thought of how many weeks Richard had seen only cold eyes like that looking back as he begged for mercy.

Kahlan turned back to the pair. “We need answers, nothing more.”

“I’m getting answers.”

Kahlan nodded. “I understand, but we don’t need the screams along with them. We don’t torture people.”

“Torture? I have not yet even begun to torture him.” Cara straightened, casting a glance to the shivering man at her feet. “And if he had managed to kill Lord Rahl first? Would you wish me to leave him be, then?”

“Yes.” Kahlan met the woman’s eyes. “And then I would have done worse to him myself. Worse than you could even conceive of. But he didn’t hurt Richard.”

A cunning smile curled the corners of Cara’s mouth. “He intended it. The canon of the spirits says that intent is guilt. Failure to successfully carry out the intent does not absolve the guilt.”

“The spirits also mark a distinction between intent and deed. It was my intent to take care of him, in my way. Was it your intent to disobey my direct order?”

Cara flicked her blond braid back over her shoulder. “It was my intent to protect you and Lord Rahl. I have succeeded.”

“I told you to let me handle it.”

“Hesitation can be the end of you . . . or those you care about.” A haunted look passed across Cara’s face. Iron quickly repossessed her countenance. “I have learned never to hesitate.”

“Is that why you were provoking him? To get him to attack you with his magic?”

With the heel of her hand, Cara wiped the blood from a deep cut on her cheek—a cut Marlin had given her when he had struck her and slammed her into the bookcase. She stepped closer. “Yes.” She took a long lick of the blood from her hand while watching Kahlan’s eyes. “A Mord-Sith can’t take a person’s magic unless they attack us with it.”

“I thought you feared magic.”

Cara tugged the sleeve of her leather, straightening it down her arm. “We do, unless it is specifically used by the one who commands it to attack us. Then it’s ours.”

“You always claim not to know anything about magic, and yet now you command his? You can use his magic?”

Cara glanced down at the man groaning on the floor. “No. I can’t use it, like he uses it, but I can turn it against him—hurt him with his own magic.” Her brow twitched. “Sometimes, we feel a bit of it, but we don’t understand it the way Lord Rahl understands it, and so we can’t use it. Except to give them pain.”

Kahlan couldn’t reconcile such contradictions. “How?”

She was struck by how much Cara’s emotionless expression was like a Confessor’s face, the face Kahlan’s mother had taught her, showing nothing of the inner feelings about what had to be done.

“Our minds are linked,” Cara explained, “through the magic, so I can see what he’s thinking when he is thinking of hurting me, or fighting back, or disobeying my orders, because it contradicts my wishes. Since we are linked to their minds through their magic, our will to hurt them makes it happen.” She looked down at Marlin. He suddenly cried out anew in agony. “See?”

“I see. Now stop it. If he refuses to give us answers, then you can . . . do what it takes, but I won’t sanction doing anything that isn’t required to protect Richard.” Kahlan looked up from Marlin’s torment to Cara’s cold blue eyes. She spoke before she thought. “Did you know Denna?”

“Everyone knew Denna.”

“And was she as good at . . . at torturing people as you?”

“Me?” Cara said with a laugh. “No one was as good at it as Denna. That’s why she was Darken Rahl’s favorite. I could hardly believe the things she could do to a man. Why, she could . . .”

With a glance at the Agiel hanging at Kahlan’s neck—Denna’s Agiel—Cara suddenly caught the meaning behind Kahlan’s questions.

“That was in the past. We were bonded to Darken Rahl. We did as we were commanded. We are bonded to Richard, now. We would never hurt him. We would die to keep anyone from hurting Lord Rahl.” Her tone lowered to a whisper. “Lord Rahl not only killed Denna, but he also forgave her for what she did to him.”

Kahlan nodded. “So he did. But I have not. Though I understand how she did as she was trained and commanded, and her spirit has been a comfort and an aid to both of us, and I appreciate the sacrifices she has since made on our behalf, in my heart I can’t forgive her for the horrifying things she did to the man I love.”

Cara studied Kahlan’s eyes a long moment. “I understand. If you ever hurt Lord Rahl, I would never forgive you, either. Nor would I ever grant you mercy.”

Kahlan held the woman’s gaze. “Likewise. It is said that, for a Mord-Sith, there is no worse death to be had than by the touch of a Confessor.”

A slow smile came to Cara’s lips. “So I have been told.”

“It’s fortunate we’re on the same side. As I’ve said, there are things I won’t, I can’t, forgive. I love Richard more than life itself.”

“Every Mord-Sith knows that the worst pain comes from one you love.”

“Richard need never fear that pain.”

Cara seemed to consider her words carefully. “Darken Rahl never had to fear that kind of pain; he never loved a woman. Lord Rahl does. I have noticed that where love is concerned, things sometimes have a way of changing.”

So that was the heart of the matter.

“Cara, I could no more hurt Richard than could you. I would lay down my life first. I love him.”

“As do I,” Cara said, “if in a different way, but with no less ferocity. Lord Rahl freed us. In his place, anyone else would have had every Mord-Sith put to death. He instead has given us a chance to live up to his expectations.”

Cara shifted her weight to her other foot as her eyes withdrew their cold assessment. “Perhaps Richard is the only one of us to understand the good spirits’ principles—that we can’t truly love until we forgive another their worst crimes against us.”

Kahlan felt her face flush at Cara’s words. She never thought of a Mord-Sith as having such depth of understanding in matters of compassion. “Was Denna a friend?” Cara nodded. “And has your heart forgiven Richard for killing her?”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Cara admitted. “I understand the way you feel about Denna. I don’t blame you. In your place, I would feel the same.”

Kahlan stared off. “When I told Denna—her spirit—that I couldn’t forgive her, she said that she understood, and that the only forgiveness she needed had already been granted. She told me that she loved Richard—that even in death she loved him.” Just as Richard had seen in Kahlan the woman behind the magic, he had seen in Denna the person behind the fearsome persona of a Mord-Sith. Kahlan could understand Denna’s feelings at having someone finally see her for herself. “Perhaps the forgiveness of one you love is the only thing in life that really matters—the only thing that can truly heal your heart, heal your soul.”

Kahlan watched her finger as she traced the scoop of a curled leaf carved in the banding of the tabletop. “But I could never forgive anyone who hurt him.”

“And have you forgiven me?”

Kahlan looked up. “For what?”

Cara’s fist tightened on her Agiel. Kahlan knew that it hurt a Mord-Sith to hold her Agiel in her hand—part of the paradox of being a giver of pain. “For being Mord-Sith.”

“Why should I have to forgive you that?”

Cara looked away. “Because if Darken Rahl had commanded me instead of Denna to take Richard, I would have been as merciless as she. As would Berdine, or Raina, or any of the rest.”

“I told you, the spirits mark a distinction between the might have been and the deed. So do I. You cannot be held responsible for what others have done to you, any more than I can be held answerable because I was born a Confessor, and no more than Richard can be held guilty because that murderous Darken Rahl fathered him.”

Still Cara didn’t look up. “But will you ever truly trust us?”

“You have already proven yourselves, in Richard’s eyes, and in mine. You are not Denna, nor responsible for her choices.” With a thumb, Kahlan wiped oozing blood from Cara’s cheek. “Cara, if I didn’t trust you, all of you, would I allow Berdine and Raina, two of you, to be alone with Richard right now?”

Cara glanced again to Denna’s Agiel. “In the battle with the Blood of the Fold, I saw the way you fought to protect Lord Rahl, as well as the people of the city. To be Mord-Sith is to understand that you must sometimes be merciless. Though you are not Mord-Sith, I have seen that you understand this. You are a worthy guardian to Lord Rahl. You are the only woman I know worthy of wearing an Agiel.

“Though to you that may sound reprehensible, in my eyes, it is an honor that you wear an Agiel. Its ultimate purpose is to protect our master.”

Kahlan offered a sincere smile, understanding Cara just a little bit better than she had before. She wondered what the woman behind the appellation had been like before she was captured and trained to become a Mord-Sith. Richard had told her that it was a horror far beyond anything that had been done to him.

“In my eyes, too, because Richard gave it to me. I am his protector, as are you. In that way, we are sisters of the Agiel.”

Cara smiled her approval.

“Does this mean that you’ll follow our orders for a change?” Kahlan asked.

“We always follow your orders.”

With a wry smile, Kahlan shook her head.

Cara nodded toward the man on the floor. “He will answer your questions, as I promised you before, Mother Confessor. I won’t practice my skills on him any more than is necessary.”

Kahlan squeezed Cara’s arm in sorrow and sympathy for the warped role the woman’s life had been twisted into by others. “Thank you, Cara.”

Kahlan turned her attention to Marlin and the problem at hand. “Let’s try it again. What were your plans?”

He glared up at her. Cara shoved him with a foot.

“You answer truthfully, or I’ll start finding some nice, tender places for my Agiel. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Cara squatted down, fanning her Agiel before his face. “Yes, Mistress Cara.” The sudden threat in her tone seemed to annul everything she had just said. It frightened even Kahlan.

Wide-eyed, he swallowed. “Yes, Mistress Cara.”

“That’s better. Now, answer the Mother Confessor’s question.”

“My plans were as I told you: to kill Richard Rahl and you.”

“How long ago did Jagang give you these orders?”

“Nearly two weeks.”

Well, there was that. It could be that Jagang had been killed at the Palace of the Prophets when Richard destroyed it. That was what they had been hoping, anyway. Perhaps he had given the orders before he was killed.

“What else?” Kahlan asked.

“Nothing else. I was to use my talent to get in here and kill the both of you, that’s all.”

Cara landed a kick on his cracked rib. “Don’t lie to us!”

Kahlan gently pushed Cara back and knelt beside the choking, gasping young man.

“Marlin, don’t mistake my distaste for torture as a lack of resolve. If you don’t start telling me what I want to know,” she whispered, “I’m going to go for a long walk and then to dinner and I’m going to leave you in here all alone with Cara. Crazy as she is, I’ll leave you alone with her. And then, when I come back, if you still think to hold out on me, I’m going to use my power on you, and you can’t even imagine how much worse that will be. Cara can’t even come close to what I can do; she can use your magic and your mind. I can destroy it. Is that what you want?”

He shook his head as he clutched his ribs. “Please,” he begged, tears welling up again, “don’t. I’ll answer your questions . . . but I don’t really know anything. Emperor Jagang comes to me in my dreams and tells me what to do. I know the cost of failure. I do as I’m told.” He paused to gasp a sob. “He told me to . . . to come here and kill you both. He told me to find a soldier’s uniform, and weapons, and to come kill you both. He uses wizards, and sorceresses, to do his bidding.”

Kahlan stood, puzzling over Marlin’s words. He seemed to have reverted to being hardly more than a boy. Something was missing, but she couldn’t imagine what it could be. It made sense on the surface—Jagang sending an assassin—but something deeper didn’t tally. She paced to the side table with the lamp and leaned a hip against it. With her back to Marlin, she rubbed her throbbing temples.

Cara inched close. “Are you all right?”

Kahlan nodded. “This worry is just giving me a headache, that’s all.”

“Maybe you could have Lord Rahl kiss it and make it better.”

Kahlan chuckled silently at Cara’s concerned frown. “That would work.” She waved her hands in the air as if shooing a gnat, trying to chase away the doubts. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“The dream walker trying to kill his enemy doesn’t make sense?”

“Well, think about it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Marlin hugging his ribs and rocking on the floor. His eyes, even when they were filled with terror, and even, as now, when he wasn’t looking her way, for some reason made her skin crawl. She turned back to Cara and lowered her voice. “Surely Jagang had to know that one man, even a wizard, would fail at such a task. Richard would recognize a man with the gift, and besides, there are too many people here who would be only too ready to kill an intruder.”

“But still, with his gift, he might have a chance. Jagang wouldn’t care if the man was killed. He has an abundance of others to do his bidding.”

Kahlan’s thoughts flicked about, trying to pick out the nettle of a reason behind her itching doubt.

“Even if he managed to kill some of them with his magic, there are still too many. A whole army of mriswith failed to kill Richard. He can recognize one with the gift, with magic, as a threat. He doesn’t know how to command his magic, much as you don’t understand how to control Marlin’s, beyond giving him pain with it, but his guard would be up, at the least.

“This just doesn’t make any sense. Jagang is far from stupid; there has to be more to it. He must have some plan to this. Something more than we’re seeing.”

Cara clasped her hands behind her back as she took a deep breath. She turned. “Marlin.” His head came up, his eyes at attention. “What was Jagang’s plan?”

“To have me kill Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor.”

“What else?” Kahlan asked. “What more was there to his plan?”

His eyes flooded. “I don’t know. I swear. I told you as he ordered me. I was to get a soldier’s uniform and weapons so I would look like I belonged and could get close. I was to kill you both.”

Kahlan wiped a hand across her face. “We’re not asking the right questions.”

“I don’t know what else there could be. He has admitted the worst of it. He told us his goal. What more could there be?”

“I don’t know, but there’s something still itching at me.” Kahlan sighed in resignation. “Maybe Richard can reason this out. He is the Seeker of Truth, after all. He’ll figure out what it means. Richard will know the right questions to ask so that . . .”

Kahlan’s head suddenly came up, her eyes wide. She advanced a long stride toward the man on the floor.

“Marlin, did Jagang also tell you to announce yourself when you arrived?”

“Yes. Once inside the palace, I was to give my reason for being here.”

Kahlan stiffened. She snatched Cara’s arm and pulled her close while keeping her eyes on Marlin. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Richard about this. It’s too dangerous.”

“I have Marlin’s power. He’s helpless.”

Kahlan’s gaze darted about, hardly hearing what Cara had said. “We have to put him somewhere safe. This room won’t do.” She put a thumbnail between her teeth.

Cara frowned. “This room is as safe as anywhere. He can’t get away. He’s safe in here.”

Kahlan took her thumb from her mouth as she stared at the man rocking on the floor.

“No. We have to find someplace safer. I think we’ve made a big mistake. I think we’re in a lot of trouble.”