Temple of the Winds

Chapter 3

“Let me just kill him,” Cara said. “I have but to touch him in the right place with my Agiel and his heart will stop. He won’t suffer.”

For the first time, Kahlan seriously considered Cara’s oft-repeated request. Though she had had to kill people before, and had ordered the execution of others, she dismissed the impulse. She had to think this through. For all she knew, that could be Jagang’s true plan, though she couldn’t imagine what good it would gain him. But he had to have some scheme to what he had ordered. He wasn’t stupid; he had to know that Marlin would be captured, at the least.

“No,” Kahlan said. “We don’t know enough yet. For all we know, that could be the worst thing we could do. We can’t do anything else until we think it through carefully. We’ve already walked into a swamp without pausing to think about where we were going.”

Cara sighed at the familiar refusal. “Then what do you wish to do?”

“I don’t know yet. Jagang had to know he would be captured, at the least, yet he ordered it. Why? We have to figure this out. Until we do, we have to put him somewhere safe, where he can’t escape and hurt anyone.”

“Mother Confessor,” Cara said with exaggerated patience, “he cannot escape. I have control of his power. Believe me, I know how to control a person when I have domination over their magic. I have had an abundance of experience. He is incapable of doing anything against my wishes. Here, let me show you.”

She threw open the door. Surprised men reached for weapons as they gazed around the room in silent, professional appraisal. With the extra light from beyond the door, Kahlan could see the true extent of the mess. A spray of blood crossed the bookcase at an angle. Blood soaked the crimson carpet, the spongy, reddish blotch extending past the perimeter of gold banding. Marlin’s face was a bloody sight. The side of his beige tunic was dark with a wet stain.

“You,” Cara said. “Give me your sword.” The blond-haired soldier drew his weapon and handed it over without hesitation. “Now,” she announced, “all of you listen to me. I’m going to give the Mother Confessor, here, a demonstration of the power of a Mord-Sith. If any of you go against my orders, you will answer to me”—she gestured back to Marlin—“just like he did.”

After another glance at the miserable man on the floor, some men nodded and the rest voiced their consent.

Cara pointed with the sword at Marlin. “If he can make it to the door, you all are to let him go—he is to have his freedom.” The men grumbled objections. “Don’t argue with me!”

The D’Haran soldiers fell silent. A Mord-Sith was trouble enough, but when she had command of a person’s magic she was something altogether beyond trouble: she was dealing in magic, and they had no desire to stick their finger in a cauldron of dark sorcery stirred by an angry Mord-Sith.

Cara strode over to Marlin and held the sword down to him, hilt first. “Take it.” Marlin hesitated, then snatched the sword when she frowned in warning.

Cara looked up at Kahlan. “We always let our captives keep their weapons. It’s a constant reminder to them that they are helpless, that even their weapons will do them no good against us.”

“I know,” Kahlan said in a small voice. “Richard told me.”

Cara motioned Marlin to his feet. When he didn’t move fast enough for her, she punched his cracked rib.

“What are you waiting for! Get up! Now, go stand over there.”

After he had moved off the carpet, she grasped the corner and flung it aside. She pointed at the polished wood floor and snapped her fingers. Marlin scurried to the spot, grunting in pain with each step.

Cara snatched him by the scruff of his neck and bent him over. “Spit.”

Marlin coughed blood and spat on the floor at his feet. Cara hauled him up straight, seized the neck of his tunic, and yanked his face close.

She gritted her teeth. “Now, you listen. You know the kind of pain I can give you if you displease me. Do you need another demonstration?”

He vigorously shook his head. “No, Mistress Cara.”

“Good boy. Now, when I tell you to do something, that is what I wish you to do. If you do otherwise, if you go against my orders, my wishes, your magic will twist your guts like a washrag. As long as you continue to go against my wishes, the pain will only get worse. I won’t let the magic kill you, but you will wish otherwise. You will beg me to kill you in order to escape the pain. I don’t grant my pets’ requests for death.”

Marlin’s face had gone ashen.

“Now, stand on that spot of your spit.” Marlin moved both feet onto the red splat. Cara gripped his jaw in one hand and pointed her Agiel at his face.

“My wish is for you to stand right there, on that spot of your spit, until I tell you otherwise. You are never to so much as lift a finger to harm me, or anyone else, ever again. That is my wish. Do you understand? Do you fully understand my wishes?”

He nodded, as best he could the way her hand clamped his jaw. “Yes, Mistress Cara. I would never hurt you—I swear. You want me to stand on my spit until you give me permission to do otherwise.” Tears welled up anew. “I won’t move, I swear. Please don’t hurt me.”

Cara shoved his face away. “You disgust me. Men who break as easily as you disgust me. I’ve had girls last longer under my Agiel,” she muttered. She pointed behind. “Those men won’t hurt you. They will do nothing to stop you. If you get to the door, against my wishes, you are free and the pain will be gone.” She glared at the soldiers. “You all heard me, didn’t you? If he reaches the door, he’s free.” The soldiers nodded. “If he kills me, he’s free.”

This time they didn’t agree until Cara yelled her order again. Cara turned her hot glare to Kahlan. “That includes you. If he kills me, or if he makes the door, he’s free.”

No matter how improbable, Kahlan wouldn’t agree to such a thing. Marlin wanted to kill Richard. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need to understand. You need to trust my word.”

Kahlan forced out a breath. “Get on with it,” she said, without agreeing to the terms.

Cara turned her back to Marlin and folded her arms. “You know my wishes, my pet. If you wish to escape, this is your chance. You reach the door, and you’re free. If you want to kill me for what I’ve done to you, now’s your chance for that, too.

“You know,” she added, “I don’t think I’ve seen nearly enough of your blood. When we’re done with all this nonsense, I’m going to take you somewhere private, where the Mother Confessor won’t be around to intercede on your behalf, I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon and night punishing you with my Agiel, just because I’m in the mood. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.”

She shrugged. “Unless, of course, you kill me, or escape.”

The soldiers stood mute. The room exuded a heavy silence as Cara waited with her arms folded. Marlin carefully looked around, studying the soldiers, Kahlan, and Cara’s back. His fingers worked on the hilt of the sword, drawing it tighter into his grip. His eyes narrowed as he considered.

Watching Cara’s back, he finally took a small, tentative step to the side.

To Kahlan, it looked as if an invisible club had whacked him in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt. A low groan wheezed from his throat. With a cry of effort, he dived for the door.

He hit the floor screaming. He clutched his abdomen with both arms as he writhed. With fingers curled in agony, he threw himself out flat on the floor and tried to claw his way to the door. It was still a goodly distance. Each inch he gained racked him with ever worse convulsions of pain. Kahlan winced at his panting screams.

In a last, desperate effort, he snatched up the sword again and staggered to his feet, straightening partially, lifting the sword above his head. Kahlan tensed. Even if he couldn’t make his arms do his bidding, he could fall and cleave Cara.

The risk to Cara was too great. Kahlan took an urgent step forward as Marlin bellowed and tried to bring the sword down to hack at Cara. Cara, watching Kahlan, held up an admonishing finger, stopping Kahlan where she stood.

Behind her, Martin’s sword clattered to the floor as he crumpled, holding his stomach as he shrieked. He crashed to the floor, his distress obviously growing precipitously with each moment as he writhed on the polished wood floor like a fish out of water.

“What did I tell you, Marlin?” Cara asked in a quiet voice. “What are my wishes?”

He seemed to grasp the meaning of her words as if they were from a person yelling as he threw a lifeline to a drowning man. His frantic gaze hunted the floor. Finally, he saw it. He clawed his way to the spot of his spit, moving as quickly as the racking pain allowed. At last, he managed to stagger to his feet.

He stood, fists at his side, still shaking and screaming.

“Both feet, Marlin,” Cara said casually.

He looked down and saw that only one foot was on the spit. He jerked the other closer, onto the red spot.

He sagged and finally fell silent. Kahlan felt herself sag with him. His eyes closed, panting, dripping sweat, he stood trembling with the lingering effects of the ordeal.

Cara lifted an eyebrow to Kahlan. “Understand?”

Kahlan scowled. Cara scooped up the sword and marched it over to the door. As one, the soldiers all backed up a step. She held the sword out, hilt first. Reluctantly, its owner retrieved it.

“Any questions, gentlemen?” Cara asked in an icy voice. “Good. Now stop banging on the door when I’m busy.” She slammed the heavy door in their faces.

Marlin’s lower lip sucked in and out over his teeth with each panting breath. Cara put her face close to his.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to close your eyes. Did you hear me say you could close them?”

His eyes opened wide. “No, Mistress Cara.”

“Then what were they doing closed?”

Marlin’s terror quavered through his voice. “I’m sorry, Mistress Cara. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.”

“Cara.”

She turned, as if she had forgotten Kahlan was even in the room. “What?”

Kahlan tilted her head in gesture. “We need to talk.”

“You see?” Cara asked, when she had joined Kahlan at the table with the lamp. “You see what I mean? He can’t hurt anyone. He can’t escape. No man has ever escaped a Mord-Sith.”

Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. “Richard did.”

Cara straightened and let out a noisy breath. “Lord Rahl is different. This man is no Lord Rahl. Mord-Sith have proven themselves unerring thousands of times. No one but Lord Rahl ever killed his Mistress to reclaim his magic and escape.”

“No matter how improbable, Richard has proven that Mord-Sith aren’t infallible. I don’t care how many thousands Mord-Sith have subjugated; the fact that one escaped means that it’s possible. Cara, I’m not doubting you—it’s just that we can’t take chances. Something’s wrong; why would Jagang throw this lamb in a wolf’s lair, and specifically tell him to announce himself?”

“But—”

“It’s possible Jagang was killed—he might be dead and we have nothing to fear—but if he’s still alive, and anything goes wrong with Marlin, here, it will be Richard who pays the price. Jagang wants Richard dead. Are you so stubborn that you’re willing to put Richard at risk for the sake of your pride?”

Cara scratched her neck as she considered. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at Marlin standing on the spot of his spit, his eyes wide open, sweat dripping off the end of his nose.

“What do you want to do? This room has no windows. We can lock and bar the door. Where can we put him that would be safer than this room?”

Kahlan pressed her fingers over the burning ache under her sternum.

“The pit.”

Kahlan twisted her fingers together as she came to a halt before the iron door. Marlin, looking like a frightened puppy, stood silently in the center of a knot of D’Haran soldiers a ways back up the torch-lit hall.

“What’s the matter?” Cara asked.

Kahlan flinched. “What?”

“I asked what was the matter. You look like you’re afraid the door is going to bite you.”

Kahlan pulled her hands apart and made herself put them at her sides. “Nothing.” She turned and lifted the ring with the keys from the iron peg in the coarse stone wall beside the door.

Cara lowered her voice. “Don’t lie to a sister of the Agiel.”

Kahlan mimicked a quick smile of apology. “The pit is where the condemned await execution. I have a half sister—Cyrilla. She was the queen of Galea. When she was here, when Aydindril fell to the Order, before Richard liberated the city, they threw her in the pit with a gang of about a dozen murderers.”

“Have a half sister? She still lives, then?”

Kahlan nodded as the mists of memories swirled before her mind’s eye. “But they had her down there for days. Prince Harold, her brother, my half brother, rescued her when they were taking her to the block to be beheaded, but she’s never been the same since. She’s withdrawn into herself. On rare occasions she comes out of her stupor, and insists that the people need a queen able to lead them and that I become the queen of Galea in her place. I agreed.” Kahlan paused. “She screams inconsolably if she comes awake and sees men.”

Cara, hands clasped behind her back, waited without comment.

Kahlan gestured to the door. “They threw me down there, too.” Her mouth was so dry that it took two attempts before she could swallow. “With those men who had raped her.” She surfaced from the memories and sneaked a quick glance at Cara. “But they didn’t do to me as they did to her.” She didn’t say how close they had come.

A sly smile came to Cara’s lips. “How many did you kill?”

“I didn’t stop to take an exact count as I escaped.” Her brief, flitting smile wouldn’t stick. “But it scared the wits out of me—being down there, alone, with all those beasts.” Kahlan’s heart pounded so hard at the memory that it made her sway on her feet.

“Well,” Cara offered, “do you want to find another place to put Marlin?”

“No.” Kahlan took a purging breath. “Look, Cara, I’m sorry I’m acting this way.” She peered briefly at Marlin. “There’s something about his eyes. Something strange . . .”

She looked back to Cara. “I’m sorry. It’s not like me to be so jittery. You’ve only known me a short time. I’m not usually so apprehensive. It’s just that . . . I guess that it’s just because it’s been so peaceful for the last few days. I’ve been separated from Richard for so long, and it’s been bliss being together. We were hoping Jagang was killed and that the war was ended. We were hoping he was in the Palace of the Prophets when Richard destroyed it . . .”

“He still might have been. Marlin said it’s been two weeks since Jagang gave him orders. Lord Rahl said Jagang wanted the palace; he was probably with his troops when they stormed it. He’s no doubt dead.”

“We can hope. But I’m so afraid for Richard . . . I guess it’s affecting my judgment. Now that things have come together, I’m terrified that it’s going to slip away from me.”

Cara shrugged, as if to dispel Kahlan’s need for apology. “I know how you feel. Now that Lord Rahl has given us our freedom, we have something to fear losing. Maybe that’s why I’m so jittery, too.” She flicked her hand toward the door. “We could find another place. There have to be other places that won’t touch painful memories for you.”

“No. Protecting Richard comes above all else. The pit is the safest place in the palace to keep a prisoner. We have no one else down there, now. It’s escape-proof. I’m fine.”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “Escape-proof? You escaped.”

The memories repressed, Kahlan smiled. With the back of her hand, she gave Cara’s stomach a dismissive slap.

“Marlin is no Mother Confessor.” She glanced back up the hall at Marlin. “But there’s something about him—something I can’t put my finger on. Something strange. He frightens me, and he shouldn’t, not with you controlling his gift.”

“You are right, you shouldn’t be concerned. I have complete control of him. No pet has ever slipped from my control. Ever.”

Cara lifted the key ring from Kahlan’s hand and unlocked the door. With a tug, it drew open on rusty, squeaking hinges. Dank stench wafted up from the darkness below. The smell clenched Kahlan’s stomach muscles with the memories it carried. Cara took a nervous step back.

“There aren’t any . . . rats, down there, are there?”

“Rats?” Kahlan glanced to the dark maw. “No. There’s no way for them to get in. No rats. You’ll see.”

Kahlan turned her attention to the soldiers back up the hall, waiting with Marlin, and gestured toward the long ladder resting on its side against the wall opposite the door. Once they had the ladder through the door and it had thudded down in place, Cara snapped her fingers and motioned Marlin forward. He scurried to her without hesitation, anxious to avoid doing anything to displease her.

“Take that torch and get down there,” Cara told him.

Marlin pulled the torch from its rust-encrusted bracket and started down the ladder. With a frown of puzzlement, Cara followed him down into the gloom when Kahlan motioned her to the ladder.

Kahlan turned to the guards. “Sergeant Collins, you and your men wait up here, please.”

“Are you sure, Mother Confessor?” the sergeant asked.

“Are you eager to be down there, in a small space, with an ill-tempered Mord-Sith, sergeant?”

He hooked a thumb behind his weapons belt as he glanced at the opening into the pit. “We’ll wait up here, as you command.”

Kahlan started backing down the ladder. “We’ll be fine.”

The smooth stone blocks of the walls were so precisely dry-fit that there wasn’t so much as a fingernail hold to be had. Looking back over her shoulder, she could see Marlin holding the torch, and Cara, waiting for her nearly twenty feet below. She carefully put a foot in each rung, mindful not to step on the hem of her dress lest she fall.

“Why are we down here with him?” Cara asked, as Kahlan stepped off the last rung.

Kahlan wiped her hands together, brushing off the grit from the ladder rungs. She took the torch from Marlin and went to the wall before them. She stretched up on her toes and pushed the torch into one of the brackets on the wall. “Because on the way down here I thought of some more questions to ask him before we leave him here.”

Cara glared at Marlin and pointed to the floor. “Spit.” She waited. “Now, stand on it.”

Marlin moved onto the spot, careful to get both feet on it. Cara eyed the empty room, checking the shadows in the corners. Kahlan wondered if she was making sure the place really was free of rats.

“Marlin,” Kahlan said. He licked his lips, waiting for her question. “When was the last time you received orders from Jagang?”

“Like I told you before, it was about two weeks ago.”

“And he’s not sought you out since then?”

“No, Mother Confessor.”

“If he was dead, would you know?”

He didn’t hesitate with his answer. “I don’t know. He either comes to me, or he doesn’t. I have no way of knowing of him between his calls.”

“How does he come to you?”

“In my dreams.”

“And you’ve not dreamed of him since you say he last came to you a fortnight ago?”

“No, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan paced to the wall with the hissing torch and back as she thought. “You didn’t recognize me, when you first saw me.” He shook his head. “Would you recognize Richard?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan frowned. “How? How would you know him?”

“From the Palace of the Prophets. I was a student there. Richard was brought there by Sister Verna. I knew him from the palace.”

“A student, at the Palace of the Prophets? Then you . . . How old are you?”

“Ninety-three, Mother Confessor.”

No wonder he seemed so strange to her, sometimes like a boy and sometimes seeming to have the demeanor of an older man. That explained the sage bearing in his young eyes. There was a presence about those eyes that didn’t fit his youthful frame. This would certainly explain it.

The Palace of the Prophets trained boys in their gift. Ancient magic had aided the Sisters of the Light in their task by altering time at the palace so that they would have the time needed, in the absence of an experienced wizard, to teach the boys to control their magic.

That was all ended, now. Richard had destroyed the palace and the prophecies, lest Jagang capture them. The prophecies would have aided him in his effort to conquer the world, and the palace would have given him hundreds of years to rule over those he vanquished.

Kahlan felt the weight of worry lift from her mind. “Now I know why I felt there was something strange about him,” she said as she sighed her relief.

Cara didn’t look so relieved. “Why did you announce yourself to the soldiers inside the Confessors’ Palace?”

“Emperor Jagang didn’t explain his instructions, Mistress Cara.”

“Jagang is from the Old World, and no doubt doesn’t know about Mord-Sith,” Cara said to Kahlan. “He probably thought a wizard, like Marlin here, would be able to announce himself, cause a panic, and wreak havoc.”

Kahlan considered the supposition. “Could be. Jagang has the Sisters of the Dark as his puppets, so he would have been able to get information about Richard. Richard wasn’t at the palace long enough to learn much about his gift. The Sisters of the Dark would have told Jagang that Richard doesn’t know how to use his magic. Richard is the Seeker, and knows how to use the Sword of Truth, but he doesn’t know how to use his gift. Jagang might have thought to send in a wizard, on the chance that he might succeed, and if he didn’t . . . so what? He has others.”

“What do you think, my pet?”

Marlin’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know, Mistress Cara. I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. I swear.” A tremor seeped from his jaw into his voice. “But it could be. What the Mother Confessor says is true: he doesn’t care if we are killed while performing a task. Our lives mean little to him.”

Cara turned to Kahlan. “What else?”

Kahlan shook her head. “I can’t think of anything else at the moment. I guess it could all make sense. We’ll come back later, after I’ve thought about it. Maybe I’ll think of some other questions that might settle it.”

Cara pointed her Agiel at his face. “You stand right there, on that spot of your spit, until we come back. Whether it’s in two hours or two days, it doesn’t matter. If you sit down, or any part of you, other than the soles of your feet, touches the floor, you will be down here all alone with the pain it brings for going against my wishes. Understand?”

He blinked as a drop of sweat ran into his eye. “Yes, Mistress Cara.”

“Cara, do you think it necessary that—”

“Yes. I know my business. Let me do it. You yourself reminded me what was at stake and how we dared not take any chances.”

Kahlan relented. “All right.”

Kahlan took hold of a rung above her head and started up the ladder. On the second rung, she paused and looked back. Frowning, she stepped back off the ladder.

“Marlin, did you come to Aydindril alone?”

“No, Mother Confessor.”

Cara snatched the neck of his tunic. “What! You came with others?”

“Yes, Mistress Cara.”

“How many!”

“With one other, Mistress Cara. She was a Sister of the Dark.”

Kahlan’s fist joined Cara’s on his tunic. “What was her name!”

Frightened by both women, he tried to back away a bit, but their grip on his tunic wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t know her name,” he whined. “I swear.”

“She was a Sister of the Dark, from the palace, where you lived for close to a century, and you don’t know her name?” Kahlan asked.

Marlin licked his lips, his gaze moving between the two women. “There were hundreds of Sisters at the Palace of the Prophets. There were rules. We had teachers assigned to us. There were places we didn’t go, and Sisters we never came in contact with, like those who handled administration. I didn’t know them all, I swear. I saw her before, at the palace, but I didn’t know her name, and she didn’t tell me.”

“Where is she now!”

Marlin shook in terror. “I don’t know! I haven’t seen her for days, since I came to the city.”

Kahlan gritted her teeth. “What did she look like, then?”

Marlin licked his lips again as his gaze flicked back and forth between the two women. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe her. A young woman. I don’t think she was long out of being a novice She was young-looking, like you, Mother Confessor. Pretty. I thought she was pretty. She had long hair. Long brown hair.”

Kahlan and Cara shared a look. “Nadine,” they said as one.