Temple of the Winds

by Terry Goodkind

  “Richard,” she whispered, “please leave it at that.”

  His glare cut to her soul. “What did she tell you?”

  Kahlan swallowed as she panted with dread. She could feel hot tears coursing down her face.

  “Shota saw the future.” Kahlan heard herself speaking, even though she had intended to remain silent. “She saw that you will wed another. She used her influence to make it someone you knew.” Under his glare, she found remaining silent impossible. “She could not influence who I am to wed. I will be married, too. It will not be you who becomes my husband.”

  Richard stood frozen for a moment, a boiling thunderhead gathering. He yanked the baldric off over his head and tossed it and the scabbard holding the sword on a chair.

  “Richard, what are you doing?”

  And then he was moving. He went for the door. Kahlan put herself in front of him. It was like stepping in front of an enraged mountain.

  “Richard, what are you going to do?”

  He grasped her by the waist, picked her up, and set her aside as if she were no more than a child in his way.

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  Kahlan threw her arms around his waist from behind, trying to drag him to a halt. It slowed him no more than if she had been a gnat. He was leaving his sword because he couldn’t travel in the sliph with the magic of the Sword of Truth.

  “Richard! Richard, please, stop! If you love me, stop!”

  He halted and turned his wrathful glare on her. His voice came like a crack of thunder.

  “What?”

  “Richard, do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then do you believe I want to marry someone else?”

  “No.”

  “Richard, you have to listen to me. Shota said she saw the future. She isn’t making the future, she just saw it. She told me these things so that what she saw might help us.”

  “I’ve had all of the ‘help’ from Shota I intend to have. I’ll have no more of it. She has taken one liberty too many. It will be her last.”

  “Richard, we have to figure out what to do. We have to do what we can to stop this plague. You saw those sick, dying children. The spirit of Chandalen’s grandfather showed me countless other dead children—dead people of all sorts. That will be the future if you do this. Do you want those children and their parents to die because you refuse to use your head?”

  His fist was gripping some sort of ornament on an elaborate necklace. She realized she had never seen it before.

  Even though he wasn’t wearing his sword, its magic drove him. He was a cauldron of lethal rage. Death was dancing in his eyes.

  “I don’t care what Shota says, I’ll not marry Nadine. Nor will I stand by while you—”

  “I know,” she whispered. “Richard, I know how you feel. How do you think this makes me feel? But use your head. This is not the way to change what Shota says. You always said before that the future is not yet decided, and that we couldn’t act on what Shota says. You always said that we couldn’t allow ourselves to put our faith in what she says, and let it direct our actions.”

  His eyes shone with deadly wrath. “You believe her.”

  Kahlan took a calming breath, trying to regain her composure. “I believe she saw the future. Richard, don’t you remember how she also said that I would touch you with my power. Look at how that turned out. She was right, but it wasn’t the calamitous event I feared. It was what brought us together, and allowed us to have our love.”

  “How can your marrying someone else turn out good?”

  Kahlan abruptly realized what this was really about: he was jealous. She had never seen him this jealous before. But that’s what it was—a jealous rage.

  “I would be lying if I told you I knew.” Kahlan gripped his broad shoulders. “Richard, I love you, and that’s the truth. I could never love anyone else. You believe me, don’t you? I trust in your love for me, and I know that you don’t love Nadine. Don’t you believe in me? Don’t you trust me?”

  He visibly cooled. “Of course I do. I do trust you.” Frustration replaced the rage in his eyes. He released the amulet in his fist. “But—”

  “But nothing. We love each other, and that’s all there is to it. Whatever happens, we have to believe in each other. If we don’t believe in each other, then we are lost in this.”

  At last, he pulled her into his arms. She knew his anguish. She felt it, too. Hers, though, was worse, because she didn’t believe there was a way out of Shota’s prediction.

  Kahlan lifted the strange amulet at his neck. In the center, surrounded by a complex of gold and silver lines, was a teardrop-shaped ruby as big as her thumbnail.

  “Richard, what is this? Where did you get it?”

  He lifted the gold and silver object from her fingers to peer down at it. “It’s a symbol, like the others I wear. I found it in the Keep.”

  “In the First Wizard’s enclave?”

  “Yes. It was part of this outfit, but unlike the rest of it, this was left in the First Wizard’s enclave. The man who wore it was the First Wizard in Kolo’s time. His name was Baraccus.”

  “Cara told me that you found the record of the trial. What did it look like in there?”

  Richard stared off. “It was… beautiful. I didn’t want to leave.”

  “Have you found out anything from the book, yet?”

  “No. It’s in High D’Haran. Berdine is working on Kolo’s journal; I’ll work on this one. I’ve only had an hour or so to start translating it. I haven’t really done much yet; I was too worried about you to be able to think about anything else.”

  Kahlan touched the amulet hanging around his neck. “Do you know what this symbol represents?”

  “Yes. The ruby is meant to represent a drop of blood. It is the symbolic representation of the way of the primary edict.”

  “The primary edict?”

  His voice turned distant, as if speaking to himself more than to her.

  “It means only one thing, and everything: cut. Once committed to fight, cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut.”

  His words chilled her to the bone as he went on.

  “The lines are a portrayal of the dance. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resolutely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don’t allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depths of his spirit.

  “It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death.

  “It is the law a war wizard lives by, or he dies.”

  49

  Clarissa sat curled up in a chair, sewing the hem of a new dress Nathan had bought for her. He had wanted to let the seamstress do the work, but she had insisted on doing it herself, mostly to have something to do. Nathan had smiled and told her that if it would please her, then it was all right with him. She didn’t know what she would do with all the dresses he kept buying for her. She had told him to stop, but he just kept doing it.

  Nathan returned from the door, having had a long discussion with a soldier named Bollesdun about the movements of Jagang’s expeditionary force. They were the men who had attacked her home of Renwold, Clarissa had learned. She tried not to listen to Nathan’s talks with his soldier friends who showed up from time to time.

  She didn’t like to think about the nightmare of Renwold. Nathan told her that he wanted to end the killing, so there would be no more Renwolds. He called it a waste of life.

  Clarissa touched Nathan’s leg when he came close. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  His blue eyes turned toward her, watching her for a long moment. “No, not yet. I must write a letter. I’m expecting someone soon. Don’t go into the bedroom to answer the door when they come. Stay in here. I don’t
want them to get a look at you. You don’t have magic, so they won’t know you’re in here.”

  Clarissa caught the tone of disquiet in his voice. “Do you think they will cause trouble? They won’t try to hurt you, will they?”

  A sly smile took his face. “That would be the last mistake they ever made. I’ve laid so many traps around this place that the Keeper himself wouldn’t dare to try to take me here.” He winked at her, as if to reassure her. “Watch through the keyhole, if you wish. It may be good for you to remember the faces of these people. They’re dangerous.”

  Her stomach churning with anxiety, Clarissa began embroidering little vines and leaves along the hem of the dress, because she thought they would be pretty, and to pass the time while Nathan wrote his letter. When he finished, he clasped his hands behind his back and paced.

  When the knock finally came, he looked toward the bedroom, where stood the door to the hall. He turned to her and crossed his lips with a finger. Clarissa nodded. He shut the door to the sitting room as he went to answer the knock. She set aside her needlework and knelt at the door to peek through the keyhole.

  She had a good view of the hall door as Nathan pulled it open. Two attractive women, about Clarissa’s age, stood in the hall. Two young men waited behind them. The scowls on the women could have cut stone.

  Clarissa was astonished to see that each woman had a small gold ring through her lower lip, as did Clarissa.

  “Well, well,” one of the women said contemptuously, “if it isn’t the prophet himself. We thought it was probably you, Nathan, messing about in things that aren’t your business.”

  Nathan grinned as he bowed dramatically from the waist. “Sister Jodelle. Sister Willamina. How nice to see you again. And that’s Lord Rahl. Even to you, Sister Jodelle.”

  “Lord Rahl,” Sister Jodelle said in a flat, mocking voice. “So we’ve heard.”

  Nathan waggled his fingers in greeting to the two young men standing out in the hall behind the two women. “Vincent, Pierce, how good to see you two boy wizards again. Still trying to master prophecy, are you? Come for some advice? Maybe a lesson?”

  “In a little over your head, aren’t you, old man?” one of the young men asked.

  Nathan’s amusement vanished. He flicked his finger. The young man cried out and dropped to the floor.

  “I told you, Pierce, it’s Lord Rahl.” Nathan’s voice turned as deadly as Clarissa had ever heard it. “Don’t test me again.”

  Sister Willamina scowled back at Pierce, whispering a harsh admonishment as he staggered to his feet.

  Nathan held his arm out in invitation. “Won’t you ladies please come in? Bring your boys, too.”

  Clarissa didn’t think they really looked like boys, as Nathan called them. She thought they looked to be in their late twenties, at least. The four warily stepped inside and stood in a bunch, hands clasped before them, while Nathan shut the door.

  “Pretty risky, Na… Lord Rahl, to let the four of us get this close,” Sister Jodelle said. “I wouldn’t think you would be this careless, now that you’ve somehow convinced some feeble-minded Sister to take pity on you and remove your Rada’Han.”

  Nathan slapped his knee and howled with laughter. None of the other four so much as cracked a smile.

  “Risky?” he asked, as his fit of laughter died out. “Why, what have I to fear from the likes of you four? And I’ll have you know that I took off the Rada’Han by myself. I think it only fair to tell you that while you foolishly chose to view me as a crazy old man, I was studying things you can’t even fathom. While all of you Sisters—”

  “Get to the point,” Sister Jodelle growled.

  Nathan held up a finger. “The point is, my fine people, that I have no ill will toward you or your leader, but I can weave webs you couldn’t even understand, much less defend against, should you wish me harm. For example, I’m sure you detect the simple shields I’ve placed here and there, but there is more, hidden beyond those things you sense. Should you—”

  Sister Jodelle lost her patience and cut him off again. “We didn’t come here to listen to the babble of a doddering old man. Do you think us stupid? We detected the pathetic magic you have so proudly laced about this place, and I can tell you with confidence there’s not a bit of it that one of us alone couldn’t slice apart with ease, while at the same time enjoying a bowl of soup!”

  Vincent shoved the two Sisters aside. “I’ve heard just about enough from this dried-up old jackass. He always was full of himself. It’s about time he learned just who he’s dealing with!”

  Nathan made no move to defend himself as Vincent lifted his hands. Clarissa’s eyes went wide in fright as the young man’s fingers curled and his face twisted with hate. Clarissa covered her mouth in terror as light shot from Vincent’s hands toward Nathan.

  A brief whine sang through the air. The light from the young man scattered. There was a thump that Clarissa could feel in the floor as light flared through the other room.

  When the sound and light cleared, Vincent was gone.

  On the floor, where he had stood, Clarissa could see a small pile of white ash.

  Nathan went to the wall and retrieved a broom leaned there, just behind a curtain. He opened the door and swept the ash out through the door into the hall.

  “Thank you for coming, Vincent. Sorry you have to leave now. Let me show you out.”

  With a flourish, Nathan swept the last of the ash out into the hall, creating a small cloud as he did so. He shut the door and turned back to the gaping gazes of the three people left.

  “Now, as I was saying, you will be making the last mistake of your lives if you underestimate me or what it is you think me capable of. Your negligible intellects couldn’t even understand it if I showed it to you.” Nathan’s brow drew down in a way that frightened even Clarissa. “Now, show proper respect and bow to the Lord Rahl.”

  Reluctantly, the three people bowed, each touching a knee to the floor.

  “What is it you want?” Sister Jodelle asked after she had straightened. Her voice had lost some of its edge.

  “You can tell Jagang that I’m interested in peace.”

  “Peace?” Sister Jodelle fussed back some of her dark hair. “What position are you in that you could make such an offer?”

  Nathan lifted his chin. “I am Lord Rahl. I will soon be Master of D’Hara. I will be in command of the New World. I believe it is a war with the New World in which Jagang is embroiled.”

  Sister Jodelle’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you are soon to be the Master of D’Hara?”

  “Just tell Jagang that his daring plan is about to be successfully completed; he will soon have eliminated the present Lord Rahl. Jagang has made a mistake, though. He forgot about me.”

  “But… but…” Sister Jodelle sputtered, “you aren’t the Lord Rahl.”

  Nathan leaned toward them with a sly smile. “If Jagang succeeds, which as a prophet I can foresee he will, then I will be the Lord Rahl. I am a Rahl, born with the gift. All D’Harans will become bonded to me. As you know, that bond will prevent the dream walker from using his talent to take the New World.

  “Jagang has made a mistake.” Nathan thunked Pierce on the head. “He’s been using amateur prophets, like this witless tadpole.”

  Pierce turned red. “I’m no amateur prophet!”

  Nathan regarded him with a look of contempt. “Really? Then why didn’t you warn Jagang that by using prophecy to eliminate Richard Rahl, it would get him nowhere but into a worse predicament, because it would leave me to become the Lord Rahl, Master of D’Hara and most of the major powers in the New World? Did you warn him about that result? While Richard may be determined, he knows next to nothing about magic, whereas I know a great deal about it. A very great deal.”

  Nathan towered over Pierce. “Just ask Vincent. A real prophet would have realized the danger lurking behind my simple shields, waiting to be triggered if anyone attacked. Did you?”

  Siste
r Willamina put out an arm, forcing Pierce back, and just in time, it appeared to Clarissa, as Nathan looked to be about to make another pile of white dust.

  “What is it you want, Lord Rahl?” she asked.

  “Jagang can either listen to my terms, or he can have really big trouble on his hands. Trouble a lot worse than Richard Rahl.”

  “Terms?” Sister Jodelle drew the word out suspiciously.

  “The present Lord Rahl is young and idealistic; he would never surrender to Jagang. I, on the other hand, am older and wiser. I know the foolishness of a war that would take the lives of countless people. And to what purpose? Just for the right to put a name to the one who is the leader?

  “Richard is a young fool who doesn’t know how to use his power. I am not a young fool, and, as you saw, I know how to use my gift. I’m willing to entertain the possibility of letting Jagang rule the New World as he wishes.”

  “And in return?”

  Nathan casually flicked his hand. “I simply want some of the spoils for myself—in return for my assistance. I will have the rule of D’Hara. Under his leadership, of course. I will be his man, running the affairs of D’Hara. Other than Jagang, no one will outrank me. Quite fair I think.”

  The young Pierce was still white as a sheet, and trying to look invisible behind the two women. The two Sisters, on the other hand, were looking suddenly a lot less unhappy. They wore small, interested smiles.

  “How would Jagang know that you could be trusted?”

  “Trusted? Does he think I’m as stupid as the young Lord Rahl leading the New World right now? I saw what was done to Renwold. If I didn’t rule D’Hara as Jagang wished, allowing him generous tribute, he might come in and try to crush us. Wars are expensive. I’d rather have the wealth for myself.”

  Sister Jodelle smiled politely. “And in the meantime? How do we know you really mean this?”

  “So, it’s assurance you want?” Nathan rubbed his chin as he stared up at the ceiling. “There is a D’Haran army, of close to a hundred thousand men, north of here. You’ll never find them without my help, until they descend on Jagang’s expeditionary force. When Jagang finishes eliminating the present Lord Rahl, then this army’s bond will transfer to me. They will be loyal to me. As soon as that happens, I will surrender that army to his, giving him even more men at arms. D’Harans have a long tradition of warring for plunder. They’ll fit right in with Jagang’s force.”