“Ah. I have been there.”
Kahlan touched her trembling fingers to her lips.
“Come, and we will travel,” the sliph said, her haunting voice echoing around the ancient stone walls. The sound died out slowly, letting silence settle once more, covering everything, like the veil of dust in the room.
Kahlan cleared her throat. “I have to go do something, first. Will you still be here when I get back? Will you wait for me?”
“If I am at rest, you can let me know of your need, and we will travel. You will be pleased.”
“You mean, if you’re not right here, I should call down to you, and you will come to me, and we will travel?”
“Yes. We will travel.”
Kahlan rubbed her hands together as she backed away. “I’ll be back. I’ll be back soon, and we will travel.”
“Yes,” the sliph said, watching Kahlan retreat, “we will travel.”
Kahlan snatched the lamp from where she had set it on the floor near the shelves. She paused at the door, looking back at the quicksilver face floating in the gloom. “I’ll be back. Soon. We will travel.”
“Yes. We will travel,” the sliph said as Kahlan started running.
Kahlan had to struggle to think where she was going as she ran. Her mind spun with arguments. While she grappled with her alternatives, she also tried to pay attention as she turned down halls, raced through rooms, and dashed upstairs. She seemed to reach Library Hall before she was ready. Huffing, she realized that she couldn’t run in on Cara and Berdine in such a state. They would know something was wrong.
Not far from the library where the two Mord-Sith waited, Kahlan collapsed onto a padded bench, letting the lamp slip to the floor. She leaned back against the wall and stretched out her aching legs. She fanned her face with one hand. She gulped air, and tried to convince her heart to slow down. She knew her face must be red as an apple.
She couldn’t walk in on the other two like this. Kahlan made plans as she rested, waiting for her heart to slow, her lungs to recover, her face to cool.
Shota knew something about the plague. Kahlan was sure of it. Shota had said about Richard, “May the spirits have mercy on his soul.”
Shota had sent Nadine to marry Richard. Kahlan vividly recollected Nadine’s tight dress, her flirtatious smiles, her accusations, telling Richard that Kahlan was heartless. The look in Nadine’s eyes when she talked to him.
Kahlan thought about what she must do. Shota was a witch woman. Everyone feared the witch woman. Even wizards feared Shota. Kahlan had never done anything against her, but that had never stopped Shota from hurting her. Shota might kill her. Not if Kahlan killed her first.
The distraction of making plans had allowed her to regain her composure. She stood, smoothed down her dress, and took a deep, settling breath.
Kahlan put on her Confessor’s face and strode through the doors to the library where the other two waited.
Cara and Berdine popped out from behind a row of bookshelves. The books were gone from the table.
Cara eyed Kahlan suspiciously. “You’ve been gone long enough.”
“It took me a while to find a way with shields I could pass.”
Berdine came out from behind the shelves. “Well? Did you find anything?”
“Find anything? Like what?”
Berdine spread her hands. “Books. You went to look for books.”
“No. Nothing.”
Cara was frowning. “Did you have any problems?”
“No. I’m just upset about all this . . . about everything. The plague and all. I’m upset that I couldn’t find anything to help. What about you two?”
Berdine swiped a stray strand of hair back from her face. “Nothing. Nothing about the Temple of the Winds or the team who sent it away.”
“I don’t understand,” Kahlan said, mostly to herself. “If there was a trial, as Kolo said, then there should be a record of it.”
“Well,” Berdine said, “we were looking through the other books to see if we missed any of the records of the trials. We didn’t find any. Where else can we look?”
Kahlan sagged in disappointment. She had been sure they would find a record of the trial for Richard.
“Nowhere. If it isn’t here, then there must be no record of the trial, or else it was destroyed. From what Kolo said, the Keep was in an uproar at the time; they may have been too busy to keep a record.”
Berdine cocked her head. “But we’re going to keep looking for part of the night, at least.”
Kahlan looked about the library. “No. It would be a waste of time. The time would be better spent if you kept working on Kolo’s journal. If we don’t have the record of the trial, translating the journal would be the best help to Richard. Maybe you can find something important in the journal.”
In the brightness of the library, Kahlan’s resolve was beginning to falter. She began to reconsider her plan.
“Well,” Cara said, “I guess we better get back, then. No telling what Nadine will be up to. If she gets into Lord Rahl’s room, she’ll get blisters kissing him while he’s asleep and helpless.”
Berdine pressed her lips tight and smacked Cara’s shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? The Mother Confessor is a sister of the Agiel.”
Cara blinked in surprise. “Forgive me. I was only making a joke.” She touched Kahlan’s arm. “You know that I will kill Nadine if you wish—you have but to ask. Don’t worry, Raina would not let Nadine into his room.”
Kahlan wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know. It’s just that with all that’s going on—I know.”
Her mind was made up. It might help Richard find an answer. It might help Richard discover something that would stop the plague. Kahlan knew she was only making excuses to herself. She knew why she was going.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Raina asked as Kahlan, Cara, and Berdine approached.
“No,” Kahlan said. “There was no record of the trial.”
“I’m sorry,” Raina said.
Kahlan gestured to the door. “Has anyone tried to bother him?”
Raina smirked. “She came by. She wanted to check on Lord Rahl. To make sure he was sleeping, she said.”
Kahlan didn’t have to ask who came by. Her blood heated. “And you let her in?”
Raina smiled that dark smile of hers. “I put my head in, saw that Lord Rahl was asleep, and told her so. I didn’t let her have so much as a peek at him.”
“Good. But she’ll probably be back.”
Raina’s smile widened. “I don’t think so. I told her that if I caught her in this hall again tonight, she would feel my Agiel against her bare bottom. When she left, there was no doubt in her mind that I meant it.”
Cara laughed. Kahlan couldn’t.
“Raina, it’s late. Why don’t you and Berdine go get some sleep.” Kahlan caught the quick glance to Berdine. “Berdine, just like Lord Rahl, needs to get some rest so that she can work on the journal tomorrow. We all need some rest. Ulic and Egan here will watch over Richard.”
Raina slapped the back of her hand against Ulic’s stomach. “You boys up to it? Can you handle it without me?”
Ulic scowled down at the Mord-Sith. “We are the Lord Rahl’s bodyguards. If anyone tried to get into his room, there wouldn’t be enough left for you to pick your teeth with.”
Raina shrugged. “I guess the boys can handle it. Let’s go, Berdine. It’s about time you got a good night’s sleep for a change.”
Cara stood beside Kahlan as she watched Berdine and Raina stride off down the hall, passing a critical eye over soldiers on patrol.
“You are right about rest. You need to get some sleep, too, Mother Confessor,” Cara said. “You don’t look well.”
“I . . . I want to check on Richard first. I’ll be able to sleep better if I know he’s all right. I’ll be back out in a minute.” She gave Cara a firm look to discourage any ideas she might have about going in with her. “Why don’t you go get som
e sleep, too?”
Cara clasped her hands behind her back. “I will wait.”
Richard’s room was dark, but the light coming from the window proved enough to find the bed. Kahlan stood beside him and listened to his even breathing.
She knew how distressed Richard was by recent events. She felt the same pain. How many families were suffering in grief this night? How many more would be suffering the next, and the night after?
Kahlan sat lightly on the edge of the bed. She slipped an arm under his shoulders and strained to gently lift him. He murmured her name under his breath in his sleep, but didn’t wake as she sat him up a bit and leaned the heavy weight of him against her.
Kahlan reached behind and picked up the glass with the sleeping potion Nadine had made. It was still half full. She held it to his mouth and tipped it, letting the potion slide to his lips. He stirred slightly, and swallowed as she tipped the glass higher.
“Drink, Richard.” she urged in a whisper. She kissed his forehead. “Drink, my love. It will help you sleep.”
She tipped the glass a little more each time he swallowed, forcing him to drink more. When he had taken most of it, she set it behind once more. He murmured her name again.
Kahlan hugged his head, holding his cheek to her breast. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head as a tear rolled over the bridge of her nose and fell into his hair.
“I love you so much, Richard,” she whispered. “No matter what, don’t ever doubt how much I love you.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, except for the word “love.” Kahlan eased him back onto the pillow and slipped her arm out from underneath him. She pulled up his covers.
She kissed her finger, and gently pressed the kiss to his lips, before she left the room.
On the way to her own room, she again told Cara that she should go get some sleep.
“I will not leave you unguarded,” Cara insisted.
“Cara, you need sleep, too.”
Cara glanced over out of the corner of her eye. “I have no intention of letting Lord Rahl down again.”
When Kahlan started to protest, Cara spoke over her words. “I will be posting soldiers outside your room, too. I can nap there, and if anything happens I will be at hand. I’ll get enough sleep.”
Kahlan had things to do. She needed Cara out of her hair. “You saw how Richard was when he didn’t get enough sleep.”
Cara let out a dismissive chuckle. “Mord-Sith are stronger than men. Besides, he was like that because he hadn’t slept for days. I slept last night.”
Kahlan didn’t want to argue. She was frantically trying to think of how to overcome this obstacle in skintight leather. She couldn’t let Cara know what she was doing. Sister of the Agiel or not, Cara would tell Richard; there was no doubt of that.
That was the last thing Kahlan wanted. Under no circumstances did she want Richard knowing what she was going to do. She would have to think of a new plan. “I don’t know if I’m ready for bed. I’m kind of hungry.”
“You look tired, Mother Confessor. You need sleep, not food. You won’t sleep as well if you eat right before bed. I want you to get a good sleep, like Lord Rahl. You can sleep well knowing that Nadine will not be going near him. I have a good idea of what Raina said to Nadine, and I can assure you that as brazen as that strumpet is, she has enough sense to heed a warning from Raina. You have no cause for fear tonight, so you can sleep well.”
“Cara, what are you afraid of? Besides magic, and rats.”
Cara scowled. “I don’t like rats. I am not afraid of them.”
Kahlan didn’t believe a word of it. She waited until they were out of earshot of a patrol passing in the opposite direction. “What scares you? What do you fear?”
“Nothing.”
“Cara,” Kahlan admonished, “it’s me, Kahlan, a sister of the Agiel. Everyone is afraid of something.”
“I wish to die in battle, not weak and sick in a bed, at the hands of some unseen foe. I fear Lord Rahl getting the plague, and leaving us without a Master of D’Hara.”
“I’m afraid of that, too,” Kahlan whispered. “I’m afraid of Richard getting the plague, and everyone else I love. You, Berdine, Raina, Ulic, Egan, and everyone I know here at the palace.”
“Lord Rahl will find a way to stop it.”
Kahlan hooked some hair behind her ear. “Are you afraid of not finding a man who will love you?”
Cara flashed Kahlan an incredulous look. “Why would I be afraid of that? I have but to give any man permission to love me, and he would.”
Kahlan let her gaze drift from Cara to the columns at the sides of the room they were passing through. Their boot strikes echoed off the marble floor.
“I love Richard. A Confessor’s magic will destroy a man if she loves him—you know, when they’re . . . together. Only because Richard is special, has special magic, can he love me in return. I’m terrified of losing him. I want no one but Richard—ever—but even if I wanted, I couldn’t. No other man could express his love for me except Richard. I could never have anyone else.”
Cara’s voice softened in sympathy. “Lord Rahl will find a way to stop the plague.”
They passed from the marble floor onto the quiet of carpets running up the stairs toward Kahlan’s room.
“Cara, I’m terrified of losing Richard to Nadine.”
“Lord Rahl does not care for Nadine. I can see it in his eyes that he has no interest in her. Lord Rahl only has eyes for you.”
Kahlan ran her fingers along the smooth marble railing as she ascended the stairs. “Cara, a witch woman sent Nadine.”
Cara had no answer for that; magic was involved.
When they came at last to the door to her rooms, Kahlan paused. She looked into Cara’s blue eyes. “Cara, will you make me a promise? As a sister of the Agiel?”
“If I can.”
“With all that’s going on—so much has gone wrong already. Will you promise me that if . . . if something happens, if I somehow make a mistake, the worst mistake I’ve ever made, and I somehow get things wrong . . . will you promise me that you won’t let it be her, instead of me, who has Richard?”
“What could happen? Lord Rahl loves you, not that woman.”
“Anything could happen. The plague—Shota—anything. Please, Cara. I couldn’t bear to think that if anything happened, Nadine would have my place with Richard.” Kahlan clutched Cara’s arm. “Please, I’m begging you. Promise me?”
Cara’s intent blue eyes stared back. Mord-Sith didn’t take oaths lightly. Kahlan knew that she was asking for something of solemn importance: she was asking Cara to swear her life on this, for that was what it meant for a Mord-Sith to give her word.
Cara brought her Agiel up in her fist. She kissed it. “Nadine will not have your place with Lord Rahl. I swear it.”
Kahlan nodded, words failing her for a moment.
“Get some sleep, Mother Confessor. I will be here, watching your rooms. No one will bother you. You can sleep well, knowing that Nadine will never take your place. You have my oath.”
“Thank you, Cara,” Kahlan whispered in gratitude. “You truly are a sister of the Agiel. If you ever want a favor in return, you have but to name it.”
Chapter 37
Kahlan was finally able to send away Nancy and her helper, telling them that she was exhausted and wanted only to go to bed. She had to decline an offer of a bath, having her hair brushed, a massage, and food; but she let Nancy help her with her dress so as not to raise the woman’s suspicion.
Kahlan rubbed her bare arms in the chill after she was alone at last. She tested her wound, under the bandage. It was healing well, and hardly hurt her anymore. Drefan had helped it, and she supposed that Nadine’s poultices had been a benefit, too.
Kahlan slipped on a dressing gown and went to the writing desk beside one of the hearths. The heat felt good, but it only warmed one side of her. She pulled paper and pen from a drawer. As she took the silver lid
from the ink bottle, she tried to organize her thoughts, and what she would write. At last, she dipped the pen.
My dearest Richard, I have something important to do, and I have to do it alone. I am serious about this. Not only because I respect you, but because you are the Seeker, I bow to what you sometimes do that I wish would be otherwise. I understand that I must sometimes allow you to do what you know you must. I am the Mother Confessor; you must understand that I must sometimes do what I must. This is one of those times. Please, if you love me, then you will respect my wishes, not interfere, and leave me to do what I must.
I have had to trick Cara, which I greatly regret. She does not know anything of what I plan. She did not know I was leaving. If you hold her liable for this, I will view it with the greatest displeasure.
I don’t know when I will return, but I expect that I will be gone for a few days. I am doing this to help our situation. I beg you to understand and not be angry with me—I must do this.
Signed, the Mother Confessor, your queen, your love for all time, in this world and those beyond—Kahlan.
Kahlan folded the letter and wrote Richard’s name on the outside. She opened it and read it again, just to be sure she hadn’t revealed anything she didn’t want to him to know. She was satisfied with “to help our situation.” It was vague enough to mean anything. She hoped she wasn’t being too harsh with the way she insisted he not interfere.
Kahlan brought a candle close and heated the end of a stick of colored sealing wax from the drawer. She watched the wax drip onto the letter, making a red pool, and then pressed the Mother Confessor’s seal—twin lightning bolts—into the warm wax. She kissed the letter, blew out the candle, and propped the letter against it so it couldn’t be missed.
She never used to know why the Mother Confessor’s seal was twin lightning bolts, but she did now; it was the symbol of the Con Dar—the Blood Rage—an ancient component to a Confessor’s magic. It was magic so rarely invoked that she had never known of it; her mother had died before she could teach Kahlan to call it forth if needed.
After she had met Richard and fallen in love with him, she had invoked it by instinct. In the grip of that magic, she had painted a lightning bolt on each cheek as a warning to others not to get in her way. A Confessor in the Con Dar couldn’t be reasoned with.
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