Temple of the Winds

by Terry Goodkind

  “Will it get rid of all of them?” Egan asked as he scratched his head.

  “All of them? Dear spirits, don’t tell me that there are more than a couple?”

  “Seven. Six women who all look alike, and one man.”

  Kahlan lost a stride. “I don’t believe it. That would be the Legate Rishi and his six wives, all sisters. The six sisters were all born of the same… litter.”

  The Andolians believed that only a litter of six females were worthy to be the legate’s wives. Kahlan’s head spun as she tried to concentrate through the depression over Raina’s death, over all the deaths. She had to think of a place to send the Andolians, and a message for them to carry.

  Maybe something about the plague. She could send them somewhere with a warning about the plague. Maybe down into the wilds. Most of the people of the wilds tolerated the Andolians better than most other people in the Midlands.

  A throng of guards bristling with weapons filled the halls all around the reception room. Two guards with pikes opened the tall, mahogany-paneled doors as Kahlan and Egan approached.

  The reception hall, where waited the Andolians, was one of the smaller ones, without windows. Sculptures of every sort, from rulers’ busts to a farmer and oxen, most done in pale marble, rested on square granite blocks placed back against the dark walls. Behind each sculpture, ornamental drapery of a rich maroon was swagged back to half-columns of dark violet marble set against the walls between each sculpture. It lent each piece the air of being displayed on a stage, with curtains opening for them.

  Four separate clusters of ornate lamps with cut-glass chimneys hung on silver chains. Because of the dark decor, the dozens of lamps were unable to bring anything brighter than a somber atmosphere to the room. Three heavy, dark tables sat on the black marble floor.

  The Andolians stood before one of these tables. The six sisters were tall and slender, and Kahlan couldn’t tell one from another. Their hair was dyed a bright orange with the berries of a hasset bush that grew in the Andolians’ homeland. Their homeland wasn’t close; they had made a long journey to get to Aydindril.

  Their big, round black eyes watched Kahlan approach. Their orange hair, woven into hundreds of small braids, made the women look as if they wore wigs of orange yarn. Woven into the yarnlike hair were small, shiny things—buttons, pieces of metal, gold and silver coins, shards of glass, chips of obsidian—any scrap that they found shiny enough for their taste.

  All six were dressed in simple but elegant white robes of a lustrous, satiny material. Despite what Kahlan knew about the Andolians—such as the way a simple storm could send them puling for protection under a bush or a hole in the ground—they had a noble air. Kahlan guessed that made sense; they were, after all, the wives of the legate, the leader of the Andolians.

  The legate himself was shorter than his wives, and much older. Other than his round black eyes, he looked to be nothing more than a distinguished official, a bit on the stocky side. A bald pate shone above his fringe of white hair. Some kind of grease had been rubbed on it so as to make it glossy.

  He wore robes similar to his wives’, but of gold material trimmed with rows of shiny objects sewn on. Each finger had at least one ring. From a distance, all the shiny objects made him look opulent. Closer up, he looked more like a crazy beggar who had dug through a midden heap to pluck out worthless items discarded by normal people.

  Legate Rishi’s eyes were red-rimmed and leaden-looking. He wore a doltish grin and swayed on his feet. Kahlan saw him infrequently, but she didn’t remember him this way.

  The six sisters formed into a line before him. They straightened, putting their shoulders back with pride.

  “We share the moon,” one of the six said.

  “We share the moon,” Kahlan said in their traditional greeting among females. Her waning cramps reminded her that the greeting had more than one meaning.

  The rest spoke the greeting in turn. The way those big black eyes blinked as they watched her gave Kahlan shivers. When they had finished with the official greeting, the six split into two groups of three and backed to either side of their husband.

  The legate lifted a hand, as if a king greeting a crowd. He grinned moronically. Kahlan frowned at his odd behavior, although she wasn’t at all sure that for an Andolian it was odd.

  “We share the sun,” he said in a slur.

  “We share the sun,” Kahlan answered, but he ignored her as his attention was diverted by something behind her.

  Kahlan turned and saw Richard striding across the room, a glower heating his expression.

  “What’s this about the moon?” Richard asked as he came up beside Kahlan.

  She took his hand. “Richard,” she said in a tone of warning, “this is Legate Rishi and his wives. They are Andolians. I have just given them their traditional greeting, that’s all.”

  His expression slackened. “Oh, I see. When they said something about the moon—I thought.”

  The blood suddenly drained from Richard’s face.

  “Andolians,” he whispered to himself. “Wizard Ricker was doing something with the Andolians…” He seemed lost in a confusion of thought.

  “We share the sun,” Legate Rishi said through his grin. “The females share the moon. A female and a male share the sun, but not the moon.”

  Richard rubbed his brow. He looked engrossed in recollection, or confusion. Kahlan squeezed his hand, hoping he would get the message to let her handle this. She turned back to the legate.

  “Legate Rishi, I would like you to—”

  “Our husband has been drinking things that make him happy,” one of the wives said, as if it were a fascinating bit of news. “He has been trading some of his prizes for this drink.” Her expression turned perplexed. “It makes him slow, too, or we would have been here sooner.”

  “Thank you for telling me this,” Kahlan said. One had always to thank an Andolian for any information they offered about themselves. Information about themselves so given was considered a gift.

  Kahlan turned her attention once more to the legate. “Legate Rishi, I would like you to carry an important message for me.”

  “Sorry,” the legate said. “We can carry no message for you.”

  Kahlan was dumbfounded. She had never heard of an Andolian refusing to carry a message.

  “But, why not?”

  One of the six leaned toward Kahlan. “Because we already carry a message of great importance.”

  “You do?”

  Her big black eyes blinked. “Yes. The greatest of all honors. Husband carries a message from the moon.”

  “You what?” Richard whispered as his head came up.

  “The moon sends a message from the winds,” the legate said in a drunken slur.

  Kahlan felt as if the world had frozen.

  “We would have been here sooner, but husband had to stop many times to have the drink of happiness.”

  Kahlan felt her whole body tingle with icy dread.

  “Been here sooner,” Richard repeated. “While all those people died, you’ve been drinking?” His voice boomed like thunder. “Raina died, because you’ve been out getting drunk!”

  Richard exploded in a blur of movement, his fist striking Legate Rishi so hard that the man tumbled back over the table.

  “People are dying, and you’re out getting drunk!” Richard roared as he vaulted over the table.

  “Richard, no!” Kahlan shrieked. “He has magic!”

  Kahlan saw a blur of red racing in from the side. Cara came at a dead run and dived over the table, knocking Richard sprawling across the floor.

  Legate Rishi rose up in a rage. Blood frothed at his mouth. Strings of it whipped from his chin.

  Wavering flares of light and undulating flutters of darkness radiated up his arms, gathering at his chest as he rose up. He was gathering his magic, preparing to unleash it against Richard. Richard went for his sword.

  Cara shoved Richard again and rebounded back at the legat
e, backhanding him across his bloody mouth. The legate whirled, redirecting his rage at her.

  Cat-quick, Cara spun past him, striking him again, turning his attention away from Richard as he followed her.

  His magic already gathered, he unleashed it at her.

  The air thumped and at the same time seemed to oscillate.

  The legate went down with a grunt of pain. Cara was on him before he hit the ground. She pressed her Agiel to his throat.

  “You are mine, now,” she sneered as he gagged in agony. “Your magic is mine, now.”

  “Cara!” Kahlan yelled. “Don’t kill him!”

  The six sisters were squatted down in a shivering clump, hugging one another in terror. Kahlan put a hand to the frightened sisters, reassuring them that they wouldn’t be harmed.

  “Cara, don’t hurt him,” Kahlan said. “He carries a message from the Temple of the Winds.”

  Cara’s head came up. She had a disturbing look in her eyes.

  “I know. It came to him with magic. His magic is mine, now. The message he carries is embedded within his magic.”

  Richard let his sword drop back into its scabbard. “You mean, you know the message?”

  Cara nodded, her blue eyes filling with tears.

  “I know it with him. I share his magic, his knowledge of the message.”

  “Ulic, Egan,” Richard said, “clear the soldiers out. Shut the doors. Keep everyone out.”

  As Ulic and Egan were ushering the soldiers out, Richard seized the legate by the robes at his throat and lifted him. He heaved him into a chair. Richard towered over the suddenly meek-looking, panting Andolian leader.

  His chest heaving, Richard gripped the amulet and Raina’s Agiel in a fist. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he pointed at the legate’s face.

  “Let’s have the message. And you had better tell it true. Thousands of people have already died while you delayed your arrival to get drunk.”

  “The message from the winds is for two people.”

  Richard looked up. The words had come not only from the legate, but also from Cara. She had spoken the words along with him.

  “Cara, do you know the message, too? Just as he does?”

  Cara looked as surprised as Richard. “I… it came to me, as it came to him. I knew only that he carried a message. He didn’t know it until he spoke it. I knew it when he did.”

  “Who is the message for?”

  Kahlan knew.

  “For Wizard Richard Rahl, and for Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell.” Once again, both had spoken the words.

  “What is the message?” Richard asked.

  Kahlan knew. She went to Richard’s side, taking his hand in hers, holding it for dear life.

  The room was empty of everyone except Richard, Kahlan, Cara, Legate Rishi, and the six sisters, cowering under a table. The lamps around the room dimmed, as if their wicks had been turned down. It cast them all in an eerie, wavering light.

  The legate, his face gone blank, looked to have gone into a trance. He rose from the chair, blood still dripping from his chin. His arm lifted, pointing at Richard. Only he spoke, this time.

  “The winds summon you, Wizard Richard Rahl. Magic has been stolen from the Winds, and used in this world to cause harm. You must wed in order to enter the Temple of the Winds.

  “Your wife is to be one named Nadine Brighton.”

  Unable to speak, Richard brought Kahlan’s hand to his heart, holding it there in both of his hands.

  Cara’s arm lifted, pointing at Kahlan. Only she spoke, this time, in a frigid, heartless voice.

  “The winds summon you, Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell. Magic has been stolen from the winds, and used in this world to cause harm. You must wed in order to help Wizard Richard Rahl enter the Temple of the Winds.

  “You husband is to be one named Drefan Rahl.”

  Richard dropped to his knees. Kahlan sank down beside him.

  She thought she should feel something. She felt only numbness. It seemed a dream.

  She had thought it would never come. Now that it was happening, it seemed too fast, as if she were tumbling over a cliff, grasping for a handhold, but finding nothing to stop her fall as she plunged into icy blackness.

  It was over. Everything was over. Her life, her dreams, her future, her joy, was over. It only remained to act it out until the end.

  Richard’s ashen face looked up from Cara’s feet.

  “Cara, please, I’m begging you, don’t do this to us.” His voice broke. “Dear spirits, please don’t do this to us, Cara.”

  Cara’s cold blue eyes stared back.

  “I do not do this to you. I only bear the message from the winds. You must both agree to this, if you wish to enter the Temple of the Winds.”

  “Why must Kahlan marry?”

  “The winds require a virgin bride.”

  Richard’s eyes darted to Kahlan. He looked back to Cara.

  “She isn’t a virgin.”

  “Yes, she is,” Cara said.

  “No! She’s not!”

  Kahlan put her forehead against the side of Richard’s face as she gripped his muscular neck, hugging herself to him.

  “Yes, Richard. I am,” she whispered. “In this world, I am. Shota told me that that was all that mattered to the spirits. In this world, in our world, the world of life, I am a virgin. We were together in another world. It doesn’t apply here.”

  “That’s crazy,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “That’s just crazy.”

  “It fulfills the requirements of the winds,” Cara said.

  “This is the only chance you will be offered,” the legate said. “If you do not take it, then the obligation of the winds to remedy the damage will be ended.”

  “Please, Cara,” Richard whispered. “Please… don’t do this. There has to be another way.”

  “This is the only way.” Cara, in her red leather, towered above them. “It is up to you whether you will repair the damage. You must agree. If you fail to answer the call, it will not come again, and the magic released will run free.”

  “The winds wish to know your answer,” the legate said. “You must both agree to this of your free will. It must be a true marriage in all aspects. It must be for life. You must both be of honest intent in your marriages, and faithful to the ones you wed.”

  “He speaks the truth of the winds. What is your answer?” Cara asked in a voice like ice.

  Kahlan looked through the watery blur into Richard’s eyes. She could see him dying behind those eyes.

  “It is our duty. Only we can save those people, but I will say no if you wish it, Richard.”

  “How many more Rainas must die in my arms? I couldn’t ask you to have me at the cost of another life.”

  Kahlan swallowed the wail. “Is there anything… do you know of anything we could do to stop the plague?”

  Richard shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have failed you. I haven’t found a way around this.”

  “You haven’t failed me, Richard. I couldn’t bear to think we were the cause of more death, like Raina’s, today.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Richard.”

  Richard’s big hand held her head to him. “We are agreed, then. We must do this.”

  Richard brought her to her feet with him. There was so much she wanted to say to him. No words came. When she looked into Richard’s eyes, she knew words weren’t needed.

  They turned to Cara and the legate.

  “I agree. I will marry Nadine.”

  “I agree. I will marry Drefan.”

  Kahlan fell into Richard’s arms as she lost control of her tears. She sobbed in agony. Richard embraced her, nearly squeezing the life out of her.

  Cara and the legate were suddenly there, pulling them apart.

  “You are each promised to another,” Cara said. “You may not do this now. You must each be loyal to your mates.”

  Kahlan looked past the legate into Richard’s eyes, each of them knowing that
they had embraced for the last time.

  In that moment, her world ended.

  56

  Kahlan and Richard sat apart, with the legate and Cara between them. Kahlan heard the doors open. It was Nadine and Drefan. After Ulic had let them in, he closed the doors.

  Richard raked his hair back as he rose. Kahlan didn’t want to test her legs, yet. It had all slipped through her fingers. Everything was lost to duty.

  Nadine eyed everyone in the room: the legate, his six wives, Cara, Kahlan, and finally Richard as he walked haltingly to her.

  Richard stared at the floor. “You both know that the plague was started with magic. I told you both how it was stolen from the Temple of the Winds. The temple has sent its requirements if I am to be allowed to enter and stop the plague.

  “The temple requires that both Kahlan and I wed. The temple has named who it is it requires we wed. I’m sorry that both of you have been… tangled in this. I don’t know the reason. The temple will not explain why it must be so, only that this is our only chance to halt the plague. I can’t force either of you to be part of this; I can only ask.”

  Richard cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. He lifted Nadine’s hand. He couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “Nadine, will you marry me?”

  Nadine’s gaze immediately went to Kahlan. Kahlan wore her Confessor’s face, as her mother taught her. Duty, as her mother had taught her.

  Nadine glanced to the others, and then back to the top of Richard’s head.

  “Do you love me, Richard?”

  Richard finally looked up into her eyes. “No. I’m sorry, Nadine, but, no. I don’t love you.”

  She was unruffled by the answer. Kahlan was sure that she had expected it.

  “I’ll marry you, Richard. I’ll make you happy. You’ll see. You’ll come to love me, in time.”

  “No, Nadine,” Richard whispered, “I won’t. We will be husband and wife, if you agree to this, and I will be faithful to you, but my heart will always belong to Kahlan. I’m sorry to say such a harsh thing to you when I’m asking you to marry me, but I won’t deceive you.”

  Nadine thought a moment. “Well, many marriages are arranged, and they turn out well in the end.” She smiled at him. To Kahlan, it looked a sympathetic smile. “The spirits have arranged this one. That means something. I will marry you, Richard.”