Temple of the Winds tsot-4

by Terry Goodkind

  Berdine shrugged. “I went up there, to relieve Cara, but she said she wanted to stay for another watch.”

  Richard raked back his hair. “Why would she want to do that?”

  Berdine shrugged again. “She didn’t say.”

  Kahlan took his arm. “I think it’s the rats.”

  “What?”

  “I think she’s trying to prove something to herself.” Kahlan hesitated. “Cara doesn’t like rats.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Raina muttered.

  “Filthy creatures,” Drefan put in. “I don’t blame her, either.”

  “If any of you tease her about it,” Kahlan warned, “you will answer to me—when Cara’s done with you. It’s not funny.”

  No one looked in the mood to challenge Kahlan, nor were any of them in a mood to see anything as funny.

  “Where are you going?” Berdine asked.

  “We’re going for a walk.” Richard said. “You’ve probably been sitting as much as I have. If you’d like, come along.”

  Nadine came around the corner and caught sight of them just as they started out. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Richard said. “How are you doing, Nadine?”

  Nadine smiled. “Fine, thank you. I’ve been busy smoking sick rooms, as Drefan asked.”

  “We were just going out for a walk,” Kahlan said. “You’ve been working hard, Nadine. Why don’t you come along with us?”

  Richard frowned at Kahlan. She didn’t look back at him.

  Nadine studied Kahlan’s eyes for a moment. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  The six of them made their way through the marble halls, past imposing tapestries and elegant furniture, and across sumptuous carpets on their way toward the main palace gates. Soldiers on patrol bowed or clapped fists over heart as the six of them passed. The staff Richard saw going about their business seemed to be in a state of shock. He saw people weeping as they hurried about their tasks.

  Before they made the door, they encountered Tristan Bashkar. Richard was in no mood to speak with the Jarian ambassador. Tristan sauntered to a halt before them. There would be no avoiding him this time.

  Tristan bowed his head. “Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl. I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “What do you want, Tristan?” Kahlan asked in a level tone.

  He watched her cleavage as she spoke. His gaze moved to Richard. “I want to know—”

  Richard cut him off. “Did you come to offer Jara’s surrender?”

  Tristan pulled his coat back and rested his fist on his hip. “The time I was allotted is not yet expired. I’m concerned about this plague. You’re Lord Rahl. You’re supposed to be running everything, now. I want to know what you’re going to do about the plague.”

  Richard restrained himself. “What we can.”

  Tristan glanced to Kahlan’s chest again. “Well, I’m sure that you can understand that I need assurance.” His gaze returned to Richard. A sly smile spread on his face. “After all, how can I, in good conscience, surrender my land to a man overseeing what may prove to be the greatest cataclysm in the history of the Midlands? No offense intended. The skies speak the truth to me. I’m sure you can understand my position.”

  Richard leaned toward the pompous ambassador. “You are rapidly running out of time, ambassador. You had better be prepared to surrender Jara soon, or I will see to it—my way. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to get some fresh air. It suddenly stinks in here.”

  Tristan Bashkar’s expression darkened.

  When his eyes turned toward Kahlan again, Richard yanked the knife from Tristan’s belt scabbard before he could so much as blink. Everyone froze. Richard pressed the point to the man’s chest.

  “And if I ever again catch your lecherous eyes anywhere on Kahlan but her face, I’ll cut out your heart.”

  Richard turned and loosed the knife, burying it in a round oak ball atop a nearby newel. The twang echoed through the marble halls. Without waiting for a response, he took Kahlan by the arm and marched away, his golden cloak billowing out behind. Kahlan’s face was red. The two Mord-Sith followed, grinning broadly. Drefan smiled, too, as he followed after. Nadine showed no reaction.

  Chapter 51

  In the distance, a dog barked as Richard led them lip the cobbled alley. He brought his escorts to a halt outside the small yard behind the Anderson family’s home. The yard was still cluttered with cutoffs, wood scraps, shavings, stickered lumber, and the two carving benches.

  Richard heard neither the sound of wood being worked nor voices. He swung open the gate and made his way through the clutter. The workshop remained silent. A knock produced no response. Richard pushed open one of the double doors and called out. There was no reply.

  “Clive!” Richard called again. “Darby! Erling! Is anyone home?”

  Old chairs and templates still hung from pegs on the dusty walls, and the cobwebs still hung in all the corners. Upstairs, instead of the aroma of meat pies and boiling turnips, like the last time Richard had been to the Anderson home, there was the heavy stench of death.

  In one of the chairs he had made sat Clive Anderson. He was dead. In his arms, he was holding the stiff corpse of his wife.

  Richard stood stunned at the sight. Behind, he heard Kahlan let out a mournful cry.

  Drefan went to the bedrooms. After a brief look, he returned and shook his head. Richard stood staring at the dead husband and wife. He tried to imagine Clive’s misery as he sat there, sick with the plague, holding his dead wife in his arms—his dreams and hopes dead in his arms.

  Drefan eased a hand under Richard’s arm and pulled him away. “Richard, there’s nothing to be done. We’d best go and have a dead-cart sent.”

  Kahlan pressed her face against his shoulder as she wept. He saw the stricken look on the faces of Berdine and Raina. He saw their fingers find one another and curl together—a furtive comforting touch. Nadine glanced away from the rest of them. Richard felt sudden sorrow for her: she was alone among them. Thankfully, Drefan rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. The room droned with painful silence.

  Richard held Kahlan to him as they went down the stairs. The others followed behind. When they reached the workshop, he took a breath, at last. The stench upstairs had nearly gagged him.

  Just then, Erling, the grandfather, walked through the door. He started at seeing the six people standing in his workshop.

  “I’m sorry, Erling.” Richard said. “We didn’t mean to invade your home. We came to check. We came . . .”

  Erling nodded distantly. “My boy’s dead. Hattie, too. I had to . . . go out. I couldn’t carry them by myself.”

  “We’ll have a cart sent right away. There are some soldiers on the next street over. I’ll send them right away to help you.”

  Erling nodded again. “That would be kind of you.”

  “The . . . rest of them? Are they—”

  Erling’s bloodshot eyes turned up. “My wife, daughter, son, his wife, Darby, and little Lily—all dead.” His mouth worked as his eyes watered up. “Beth, she recovered. Got well again, she did. I couldn’t care for her. I just now took her to Hattie’s sister. So far, their home is still sound.”

  Richard laid a hand gently on Erling’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Dear spirits. I’m so sorry.”

  Erling nodded. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Long as I’ve lived, you’d think it would be me, not the young’uns. The spirits weren’t fair in this. Not fair at all.”

  “I know,” Richard said. “They’re at a place of peace now. We all go there, sooner or later. They’ll be with you again.”

  Out in the alley, after they had made sure that Erling didn’t need anything, they all paused to gather their wits.

  “Raina,” Richard said, “please run over to the next street, where we saw those soldiers. Get them over here right now. Tell them to get those bodies out of there for Erling.”

  “Of course,” she said before dashing away. Her dark braid
flew behind as she ran.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Richard whispered. “What do you do for someone who has just lost his whole family? Everyone he loved? I felt a fool. I didn’t know what to say.”

  Drefan squeezed Richard’s shoulder. “You said the right things, Richard. You did.”

  “He took comfort in your words, Richard,” Nadine said. “That was all you could do.”

  “All I can do,” Richard repeated as he stared off.

  Kahlan squeezed his hand. Berdine’s hand touched his. He gripped it. The three of them stood linked in shared sorrow.

  Richard paced as he waited for Raina to return. The sun was almost down. It would be dark before they got back to the palace. The least he could do was wait until Erling had help getting his dead son and daughter-in-law out of the house.

  Kahlan and Berdine stood close together, leaning against the wall beside the Andersons’ yard. Drefan, hands clasped behind his back, looking to be lost in thought, strolled a ways back down the alley. Nadine went to the other side of the alley, alone, and leaned against the clapboard wall.

  Richard paced as he thought about the Temple of the Winds and the magic stolen by Jagang’s order. Richard could think of no way to stop this slaughter. When he thought about Tristan Bashkar’s eyes on Kahlan, Richard’s blood boiled.

  Richard paused. His head came up. Nadine was behind him. He had the oddest sensation.

  The hair on the back of his neck stiffened. Richard heard the air whine as he spun.

  The world slowed. Sound dragged. He floated as he moved. The air felt as thick as mud. Everyone seemed a statue in his vision. Time was his.

  His arm stretched out as he drifted ahead. He commanded the thickness of the air. In the eerie silence, he could hear the feathers singing. He could hear the hiss of blade. Time was his. Nadine’s startled blink took forever. He closed his fist.

  With a slam of sound, the world crashed back with a wild rush. In his fist, Richard held a bolt from a crossbow. The blade wasn’t three inches from Nadine’s wide eyes.

  A fraction of a second more and it would have killed her. That fraction of a second had been an hour to him.

  “Richard,” Nadine panted, “how did you catch that arrow? I hope you can understand that it gives me the creeps. Not that I’m complaining,” she was quick to add.

  Drefan was there, his jaw hanging open. “How did you do that?” he whispered.

  “I’m a wizard, remember?” Richard said as he turned, looking in the direction from which the arrow had come. He thought he saw movement.

  Kahlan clutched a trembling Nadine. “Are you all right?”

  Nadine nodded and let out a belated, frightened cry as Kahlan pulled her to her in a reassuring embrace.

  Richard’s eyes locked on a movement as his fist snapped the arrow in half. He took off, running. Berdine raced after him.

  Richard turned as he ran. “Find some soldiers! I want this whole area closed off! I want him caught!”

  Berdine cut down a street, going after soldiers. Richard ran like the wind on a storm. Rage inundated him. Someone had tried to kill Nadine.

  In that instant, Nadine wasn’t a woman sent by Shota to marry him, a woman who was causing him trouble; in that instant, she was simply an old friend from home. The full fury of the magic took him.

  Buildings flashed by. Dogs barked as he raced past. People in the alley cried out and dived for safety. A woman screamed as she cowered against a small, crooked storage building.

  Richard vaulted the low board fence where he had seen the movement. In mid-leap, he drew his sword. The air rang with the unique sound of steel.

  He rolled as he landed, coming to his feet with the sword in both hands. He found himself face-to-face with a white goat. There was no man there. A crossbow lay on the ground, between the board fence and a squat goat shed.

  Richard looked around in all directions. Sheets and shirts hung from lines. A woman, her hair wrapped in a blue scarf, stood on a balcony beyond the flapping laundry.

  Richard slid his sword back into its scabbard and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Did you see a man here?” he yelled up at the woman.

  She lifted her arm, pointing off to her right. “I saw someone running that way,” she called from the distance.

  Richard dashed off in the direction the woman had pointed. The alley narrowed. Beyond the tunnel of buildings, the passageway opened onto a street. He looked both ways.

  He seized the arm of a young woman. “A man came through here. Which way did he go?”

  In fright she tried to pull away, at the same time holding her hat on with her other hand. “There be people all about. Which man?”

  Richard released her arm. Up the street to his left, he saw a man righting an overturned handcart full of fresh greens. The man looked up when Richard skidded to a panting halt before him.

  “What did he look like? The man who ran through here—what did he look like?”

  The man straightened his broad-rimmed hat. “Don’t know.” He pointed. “I was looking for a good spot. I heard the sound as my cart fell over. I saw a dark shape, running up that way.”

  Richard ran on. The ancient part of the city branched into a warren of alleys, streets, and twisting passageways. Only by keeping track of the golden glow in the western sky could he keep his bearings. That didn’t mean, though, that the man he chased had run in a specific direction. He was probably just running, trying to get away.

  Richard came across a patrol of a dozen soldiers. Before they had time to salute, he was talking.

  “A man came running through here, somewhere. Did any of you see him?”

  “We saw no one running. What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. He attacked us with a crossbow and then ran. I want him found. Spread out and start searching.”

  Before they could be on their way, Raina came running up the street with a good fifty men.

  “Did you see where he went?” she asked, gasping for breath.

  “No. I lost him in here somewhere. I want all of you to spread out and find him.”

  One of the soldiers, a sergeant, spoke up. “Lord Rahl, a man who wants to escape would make himself obvious by running. A man with any sense at all would simply round a corner and walk away.”

  The sergeant gestured back up the street to make his point. There were people everywhere going about their business, although a good many were staring at the excitement on their street. Any number of them could have been the man he was chasing.

  “Any idea at all what this assassin looks like?”

  Richard shook his head in frustration. “I never got a look at him.” He raked back his hair as he caught his breath. “Split up. Half of you go back in the direction we came from. Question everyone you can find, to see if anyone got a look at him, at a man running. He may be walking now, but until he got somewhere along in here he was running.”

  Raina, Agiel in hand, took up her defensive position close beside him.

  “The rest of you come with me,” Richard said. “We’ll pick up some more men. I want to keep searching. Maybe we’ll come across someone walking and he’ll panic and try to run again. If he does, I want him. Alive.”

  It was late in the night by the time they returned to the Confessors’ Palace. Soldiers there were already on high alert. Men stood with swords and battle-axes to hand, arrows nocked, and spears leveled. Others patrolled the expansive grounds. A mouse wouldn’t have escaped their intense scrutiny.

  As Kahlan, Berdine, Raina, Drefan, and Nadine accompanied him into the gathering hall inside, Richard saw Tristan Bashkar waiting there, hands clasped behind his back as he paced. He halted and looked up when he heard them coming.

  Richard drifted to a stop as the contrite-looking ambassador approached. Those escorting Richard gathered in a knot behind him, except Kahlan, who stood close at his side.

  With a hand in the air, Tristan hailed them. “Lord Rahl, may I have a word with you, please?�
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  Richard swept his gaze over the man, noticing that he didn’t rest his hand on a hip so as to show off his fancy knife. Richard held up a finger. “One moment, please.”

  Richard turned a little to the rest of them. “It’s late. We have a lot of work to do, so I want you to get some rest. Berdine, I want you to go up to the Keep and stand guard with Cara tonight.”

  Berdine frowned. “Both of us?”

  Richard scowled. “Isn’t that what I said? Yes, both of you. With this trouble, I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I will guard the Mother Confessor’s room, then,” Raina said.

  “No,” Richard lifted a thumb. “I want you guarding Nadine’s room. She was the one who was attacked.”

  “Yes, Lord Rahl,” Raina stammered. “I’ll see to setting up a guard of soldiers outside the Mother Confessor’s room, then.”

  “If I wanted soldiers around Kahlan’s room, I’d have told you so, now wouldn’t I?” Raina’s face reddened. “I want all the soldiers doing their jobs patrolling the entrances, the palace grounds, and a perimeter around the grounds. Every one of them! The danger is from out there, not in here. Kahlan is perfectly safe inside the palace. I don’t want men who should be guarding outside instead sitting on their bottoms around Kahlan’s room inside. I’ll not have it, do you hear me?”

  “But, Lord Rahl—”

  “Don’t question me. I’m not in the mood.”

  Kahlan touched his arm. “Richard,” she whispered, “are you sure that—”

  “Someone tried to kill Nadine. They nearly succeeded. Or did some of you miss the significance of that? I’ll not take any more chances. I want her protected, and I don’t want to hear any more arguments. Drefan, I want you to start carrying a sword at once. Healers are a target.” Everyone stared at the floor in silence. “Good.” Richard turned his glare on Tristan. “What is it?”

  Tristan spread his hands. “Lord Rahl, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I realize I seemed insensitive, but I’ve been worried about the people here who are sick and dying. It set my nerves on edge. I meant to cause no ill will between us. I hope you will accept my apology.”