Temple of the Winds

Chapter 34

Kahlan batted the big, wet snowflakes from her lashes and pulled the hood of her cloak forward as she considered the foolishness of not thinking to change out of her white Confessor’s dress. She stood in the stirrups, reached between her legs, and pulled more of the back of the dress under her bare legs to protect them from the cold saddle. Fortunately, her boots were high enough that hiking up the dress to sit in the saddle didn’t expose her calves to the wind. She was glad, though, to be back on Nick, the big warhorse her Galean soldiers had given her. Nick was an old friend.

Cara and Berdine looked just as uncomfortable as she, but Kahlan knew that it was because they feared going to a place of magic. They had been in the Wizard’s Keep before. They didn’t want to return. Back at the stables they had tried to talk her out of it. Kahlan had reminded them of the plague.

Nick’s ears twitched even before the dark shapes of soldiers appeared out of the swirling snow to challenge them. Kahlan knew they had reached the stone bridge; the soldiers were posted just to the city side of it.

The men sheathed their swords when Cara growled at them, pleased to have someone handy upon whom to vent her foul mood.

“Terrible night to be out, Mother Confessor,” one of the soldiers said, happy to address someone other than the Mord-Sith.

“Terrible night to be stationed out here,” she said.

The man looked back over his shoulder. “Any night you’re stationed on watch up here at the Keep is a terrible night.”

Kahlan smiled. “The Keep looks sinister, soldier, but it’s not so bad as it looks.”

“If you say so, Mother Confessor. Myself, I think I’d just as soon stand guard over the underworld itself.”

“No one has tried to get in the Keep, have they?”

“If they had, you’d have heard about it, or found our bodies, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan urged her big stallion on. Nick snorted and surged ahead on the slick snow. She trusted him in such conditions and let him lead the way. Cara and Berdine both swayed easily in their saddles as they followed behind. Back in the stables, Cara had snatched her horse’s bit, looked the animal in the eye, and ordered it not to give her any trouble. Kahlan had the odd feeling that the bay mare understood the warning.

Kahlan could just see the stone walls at the sides of the bridge. Just as well that the horses couldn’t see the chasm beyond. She knew Nick wouldn’t spook, but she wasn’t sure about the other two. The sheer rock walls of the yawning abyss dropped for thousands of feet. Unless you had wings, there was only this one way into the Wizard’s Keep. In the snowy darkness, the vast Keep, its soaring walls of dark stone, its ramparts, bastions, towers, connecting passageways, and bridges all blended into the inky darkness of the side of the mountain into which it was built. To those without magic or those who didn’t understand magic, the Keep presented an unmistakable spectacle of sinister menace.

Kahlan had grown up in Aydindril and had been up to the Keep uncountable times, more often than not, alone. Even as a child, she had been allowed to go alone to the Keep, as were the other young Confessors. When she was little, wizards had tickled her and chased her through the halls, laughing with her. The Keep was a second home to her: comfortably safe, welcoming, and protective.

She knew, though, that there were dangers in the Keep, just as in any home. A home could be a safe, welcoming place, as long as one wasn’t foolish enough to walk into the hearth. There were places in the Keep you didn’t walk into, either.

It was only when she was older that she no longer went to the Keep alone. When a Confessor became older, it was dangerous to go anywhere alone. After a Confessor had begun taking confessions, it wasn’t safe for her to be without the protection of her wizard.

When she was older, a Confessor earned enemies. Family of the condemned rarely believed that a loved one had committed violent crimes, or they blamed Confessors for the man’s death sentence, even though she was only the means of confirming its justice.

There were always attempts on the lives of Confessors. There was no shortage of people, from commoners to kings, wanting a Confessor dead.

“How are we going to go through the shields without Lord Rahl?” Berdine asked. “His magic enabled us to pass through, before. We won’t be able to get through the shields.”

Kahlan smiled assurance to the two Mord-Sith. “Richard didn’t know where he was going. He just blundered through the Keep, going where he needed to go on instinct. I know the ways to go that don’t require magic to pass. There may be a few mild shields that will keep people out, but I can pass those. If I can pass, then I can get you through them by touching you when you pass through, the same way Richard took you through the more powerful shields.”

Cara grunted disagreeably. She had been hoping that the shields would stop them.

“Cara, I’ve been in the Keep thousands of times. It’s perfectly safe. We’re just going to the libraries. Just as you are my protector out in the world, in the Keep I will be yours. We are sisters of the Agiel. I won’t let you get anywhere near dangerous magic. Trust me?”

“Well . . . I guess you are a sister of the Agiel. I can trust a sister of the Agiel.”

They passed under the huge portcullis and onto the Keep grounds. Once inside the massive outer walls, the snow melted as it touched the ground. Kahlan pushed back her hood. Inside the walls, it was warm and comfortable.

She shook the snow from her cloak and took a deep breath of the spring-fresh air, filling her lungs with the familiar, soothing scent. Nick whinnied agreeably.

Kahlan led the two Mord-Sith across the stretch of gravel and stone chips to the arched opening in the wall that tunneled under part of the Keep. As they passed through the long passageway, the lamps hanging from Cara and Berdine’s saddles lit the arched stone around them in an orange glow.

“Why are we going through here?” Cara asked. “Lord Rahl took us in that big door back there.”

“I know. That’s one reason you’re afraid of the Keep. That was a very dangerous way to go in. I’m taking us to the way I usually enter. It’s much better. You’ll see.

“It’s not the way visitors entered, either, but the way used by those who lived and worked here. The public came in at a different door, a place where they were greeted by a guide who saw to their wants.”

Beyond the tunnel, all three horses eyed the expansive paddock lush with grass. The gravel road ran beside the wall that held the main entrance to the Keep, with a fence on the other side of the road enclosing the paddock. To the left, part of the paddock was bounded by the walls of the Keep rather than a fence. At the rear were stables.

Kahlan dismounted and opened the gate. After removing saddles and tack, all three of them turned their horses loose in the paddock, where they could crop grass and frisk in the mild air if they wished.

A dozen wide granite steps, worn smooth and swayback over the millennia, led up into a recessed entryway, to the simple but heavy double doors into the Keep proper. Cara and Berdine followed behind with the lamps. The anteroom swallowed the lamplight into its vast space, only allowing the weak flames to hint at the columns and arches.

“What’s that?” Berdine asked in a low whisper. “It sounds like a storm drain.”

“There aren’t . . . rats in here, are there?”

“Actually, it’s a fountain,” Kahlan said, her voice echoing into the distance. “And yes, Cara, there are rats in the Keep, but not where I’m taking you. Promise. Here, give me your lamp. Let me show you the bones of this menacing dungeon.”

Kahlan took the lamp and strode to one of the key lamps on the wall to the right. She could walk there without the aid of the lamp, she had done it so often, but she needed the lamp’s flame. She found the key lamp, tilled back the tall chimney, and lit it with the flame from Cara’s lamp.

The key lamp took to flame. With a succession of whooshing sounds, the rest of the lamps in the room lit—hundreds of them—two at a time, in pairs, one to each side. Each whoosh was followed almost simultaneously by another, as the lamps around the huge room took to flame from the key lamp. The light in the room grew: the effect was like turning up the wick on a lamp.

In a span of seconds, the anteroom was nearly as bright as day, bathed in the mellow yellow-orange glow of all the flames. Cara and Berdine stood slackjawed at the sight.

A hundred feet overhead the glassed roof was dark, but in the day, it flooded the room with warmth and light. At night, if the sky was clear, you could turn down the lamps and gaze at the stars, or let the moonlight wash the room.

In the center of the tiled floor stood a clover leaf-shaped fountain. Water shot fifteen feet into the air above the top bowl, to cascade down each successive tier into ever wider, scalloped bowls, finally running from evenly spaced points in the bottom one in perfectly matched arcs into the lower pool. An outer wall of variegated white marble was wide enough to act as a bench.

Berdine stepped down one step of the five that ringed the room. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered in astonishment.

Cara gazed about at the red marble columns holding the arches below the balcony that ran all the way around the oval-shaped room. She had a smile on her lips.

“This is nothing like the place Lord Rahl took us.” Cara frowned. “The lamps. That was magic. There is magic in here. You said you would keep us away from magic.”

“I said I would keep you away from dangerous magic. The lamps are kind of like a shield, except in reverse. Instead of keeping people out, they’re an enabling shield, to welcome and help them enter. It’s a friendly kind of magic, Cara.”

“Friendly. Sure.”

“Come on, we came here for a purpose. We have work to do.”

Kahlan took them to the libraries via the elegant, warm halls, rather than the frightening way they had gone before. They encountered only three shields. Kahlan’s magic allowed her to pass these, and by holding Cara and Berdine’s hands, it was possible to get them through, too, though both complained about a tingling sensation.

These shields didn’t guard dangerous areas, and so were weaker than others in the Keep. There were shields that Kahlan couldn’t pass, like the ones Richard had taken her through to go down to the sliph, though Kahlan thought there might be other ways to get down there. There were shields which Richard had gone through that in her experience no wizard had ever crossed before.

They came to an intersection with a hall of light pink stone running down both sides. At places, the hall opened into commodious rooms ringed with padded benches for conversing or reading. Beyond double doors in each of these large outer rooms was a library.

“I’ve been here,” Berdine said. “I remember this.”

“Yes. Richard brought you here, but by a different route.”

Kahlan continued on to the eighth sitting room, and went through the double doors into the library there. She used her lamp to light the key lamp, and as before, all the rest lit, lifting the room out of its pitch blackness, bringing it to life. The floors were polished wood, with walls paneled in the same honey-colored oak. During the day, glassed windows on the far wall bathed the room with light and provided a beautiful view of Aydindril. Now, through the snow, Kahlan could only occasionally see the lights of the city below.

She strode down the aisle between the reading tables and the rows upon rows of bookshelves, looking for the one she remembered. In this room alone, there were one hundred and forty-five rows of books. There were comfortable chairs to use while reading, but tonight they would need the tables to lay out the books.

“So this is the library,” Cara said. “In D’Hara, at the People’s Palace, there are libraries much larger than this.”

“This is only one of twenty-six rooms like this. I can only imagine how many thousands of books are here in the Keep,” Kahlan said.

“Then how are we ever going to find the ones we’re looking for?” Berdine asked.

“It shouldn’t be as hard as it sounds. The libraries can be a bewildering maze when you wish to find something. I used to know a wizard who searched on and off his whole life for a bit of information he knew was in the libraries. He never found it.”

“Then how can we?”

“Because there are a few things that are specialized enough that they are kept together. Books of language, for example. I can take you to all the books on any specific language, because they’re not about magic and so they’re in one place. I don’t know how books on magic and prophecy are organized, if they even are.

“Anyway, this library is where certain records are kept, such as the records of trials held here. I’ve not read them, but I was taught about them.”

Kahlan turned and led them between two rows of shelves. Nearly midway down the fifty-foot-long aisle, she came to a halt.

“Here they are. I can see by the writing on the spines that they’re in different languages. Since I know all the languages but High D’Haran, I’ll search all the ones in other languages. Cara, you look at the ones in ours, and Berdine, you take the ones in High D’Haran.”

The three of them started picking books from the shelves and carrying them to the tables, separating them into three stacks. There weren’t as many as Kahlan had feared. Berdine had only seven books, Cara had fifteen, and Kahlan eleven, in a variety of languages. For Berdine, it would be slow going translating the D’Haran, but Kahlan was fluent in the other languages, and she would be able to help with Cara’s stack as soon as she finished her own.

As Kahlan started in, she quickly found that it was going to be easier than she’d first thought. Each trial began with a statement of the type of crime, making it simple to eliminate those that had nothing to do with the Temple of the Winds.

There were charges against the accused ranging from the taking of a cherished object of little worth to murder. A sorceress was accused of casting a glamour, but was found innocent. A boy of twelve was accused of starting a fight in which another boy’s arm was broken; because the aggressor had used magic to cause the injury, the sentence was the suspension of his training for a period of one year. A wizard was accused of being a drunkard, a third offense, the prior punishments having failed to halt his belligerent behavior. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. The sentence was carried out two days later, when he had sobered.

Habitually, drunken wizards were viewed not with tolerance but as the true dangers they were, capable, in their inebriated state, of causing mass injury and death. Kahlan herself had seen wizards drink to excess only one time.

The accounts of the trials were fascinating, but the seriousness of their purpose kept Kahlan skimming through the books, looking for a reference to the Temple of the Winds, or to a team charged with a crime. The other two were making quick progress, too. In an hour, Kahlan had finished all eleven books in the other languages, Berdine had only three left, and Cara six.

“Anything?” Kahlan asked.

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “I just found an account of a wizard who fancied hiking up his robes in front of women in the market on Stentor Street and commanding them to ‘kiss the serpent.’ I never knew wizards could get themselves in such a variety of trouble.”

“They’re people, just like any other people.”

“No, they’re not. They have magic,” Cara said.

“So do I. Have you found anything, Berdine?”

“No, not what we’re looking for. Just common crimes.”

Kahlan reached for one of the books Cara hadn’t been through, but paused. “Berdine, you were down in the room with the sliph.”

Berdine made a show of shivering and producing a sound of revulsion from deep in her throat. “Don’t remind me.”

Kahlan shut her eyes, trying to remember the room. She remembered Kolo’s bones, and she remembered the sliph, but she only vaguely recalled what else was in the room.

“Berdine, do you remember if there were any other books down there?”

Berdine bit down on the end of a fingernail as she squinted in concentration. “I remember finding Kolo’s journal open on the table. An inkwell and pen. I remember Kolo’s bones, lying on the floor next to the chair, with most of his clothes long ago rotted away. His leather belt was still around him.”

Kahlan remembered much the same thing. “But do you remember if there were any books on the shelves?”

Berdine turned her eyes up as she thought. “No.”

“No there weren’t, or no you don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t remember. Lord Rahl was really excited about finding Kolo’s journal. He said it was something different from the books in the library, and he felt it was what he had been searching for: something different. We left right after that.”

Kahlan stood. “You two keep looking through these books. I’m going down there and have a look, just to be sure.”

Cara’s chair clattered against the floor as she stood. “I will go with you.”

“There are rats down there.”

Her expression vexed, Cara put a hand on her hip. “I’ve seen rats before. I will go with you.”

Kahlan remembered well Cara’s story about the rats. “Cara, there’s no need. I don’t need your protection in the Keep. Outside, yes, but in here I know the dangers better than you.

“I told you I wouldn’t take you near dangerous magic. Down there is dangerous magic.”

“Then there is danger to you.”

“No, because I know about it. You don’t. The danger would be to you, not me. I grew up here. My own mother let me have the run of the Keep when I was a little girl because I was taught about the dangers and how to avoid them. I know what I’m doing.

“Please stay here with Berdine and finish going through the books. It will save us time, and it’s important. The sooner we find the one we’re looking for, the sooner we can get home to watch over Richard. That’s where our real concern is.”

Cara’s leather creaked as she shifted her weight. “I guess you would know the dangers of the magic here better than I. I think you’re right about getting home. Nadine is back there.”