Temple of the Winds tsot-4

by Terry Goodkind

  “If I don’t help a Sister in dire need, then what good is my oath as a Sister of the Light? One has come back to us from the Keeper; perhaps she can teach us how to bring the others back.”

  Verna had never thought of that. Warren was making impatient eye signals. She could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

  Janet saw, too. She gripped Verna by the shoulders and kissed her cheeks. She turned and hugged Warren.

  “Please, Verna, get out of here before it’s too late. I’ll be able to endure five days. I know how to bow and scrape for Jagang. He’s been busy; maybe I can stay out of his sight for that long.”

  “All right. Where? We came down the coast to Grafan Harbor, and I don’t know the lay of the land.”

  “The coast? Then you would have passed the watch house, near the docks.”

  “Yes, I saw the place, but it had guards in it.”

  Janet leaned close. “As you said, there’s nothing stopping you from using your gift. The guard changes around sundown. Wait until you see the guard change, and then silence them. That will give you a safe place to wait until nearly dawn. Sometime in the night, I will be there with Amelia.”

  “The watch house, then. Fourth night after the full moon.”

  Janet gave her a quick hug. “Five nights, and we’re free. Hurry. Get out of here.”

  Warren snatched Verna’s arm and pulled her through the door.

  Chapter 54

  Soon after he awoke, just before dawn, Richard stood outside his bedroom, reading the morning report. For the first time, the number of dead in one night had climbed over one thousand. A thousand tragedies in one night.

  Ulic, standing not far away with his massive arms folded, asked the number. A rare event, Ulic asking a question. Richard couldn’t speak. He handed the report to his bodyguard. Ulic sighed heavily when he read the number.

  The city was in shambles. Trade had been disrupted to the point that food was getting scarce. Firewood, used for both heat and cooking, was hard to come by. Services of every kind were difficult to secure, either because people were afraid to bring their wares into the city, they had abandoned their homes and fled the city, or they were dead.

  Only the cures in the streets were in abundance.

  Richard paused beside a long tapestry of a city market scene as he was headed for his office. His shadow glided to a silent halt behind him. The thought of going back to translating the book made him nauseous. He was finding nothing new, anyway. He was mired in a long report on an inquiry into the dealings Wizard Ricker had had with a people called the Andolians. It was boring and made little sense to him.

  Richard couldn’t face the book again this early in the day. Besides, he was worried sick about Raina. In the last week she had only gotten worse. Nothing could be done for her, any more than anything could be done for the thousand people who had died the night before.

  Shota had told Kahlan that the Temple of the Winds would send another message, would send a way to get in. The spirit had told her the same thing. Why hadn’t it come? Would they all be dead before the winds sent word?

  Richard glanced out an east window and saw the first rays of the morning sun coming from between two mountains. With the gathering clouds he had already seen coming in from the west, he knew that they wouldn’t be seeing the full moon that night.

  He headed for Kahlan’s room. He had to see her face, see something that could lift his spirits. Ulic took up station beside Egan at the corner of the hall. Egan had been with Kahlan’s guard the night before. Richard was greeted by Nancy, just coming out the door.

  “Is Kahlan up?”

  Nancy pulled the door closed behind herself. She glanced up the hall to see Ulic and Egan. They were too far away to hear.

  “Yes, Lord Rahl. She is just a little slow, this morning. She isn’t feeling well.”

  Richard gripped the woman’s arm. He thought that Kahlan had looked out of sorts for the last few days, but she had steadfastly dismissed his concerns. Richard could feel the blood draining from his face. “What’s wrong? Is she . . . sick? She doesn’t—”

  “No, no,” Nancy insisted, suddenly realizing that she had frightened the wits out of him. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” Richard pressed.

  The woman patted her lower belly and leaned close. She let her voice drop to little more than a whisper. “It’s just her cycle of the moon, that’s all. It’ll be over in a couple more days. I wouldn’t say anything, mind you, but with the plague, I don’t want you to worry yourself to death. Just don’t tell her I told you, or she’ll bite off my head.”

  Richard sighed as he smiled with relief. He squeezed Nancy’s hand in appreciation.

  “Of course not. Thank you, Nancy. You don’t know how much that eases my mind. I couldn’t endure it if she . . .”

  Nancy touched his arm as she gave him a warm smile. “I know. That’s the only reason I said anything.”

  After Nancy had trundled off down the hall, Richard knocked on the door. Kahlan had been just about to open it, and was surprised to find him standing there. She smiled up at him. “I was wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “You are more handsome than I remembered.”

  Richard grinned. She had lifted his spirits. He gave her a quick kiss when she rose on her toes and puckered her lips.

  Richard gathered up her hand. “I’m on my way to check on Raina. Want to come with me?”

  She nodded, the mirth ghosting away from her face.

  Berdine met them not far from their room. Her eyes were red and leaden. She wore red leather. Richard didn’t ask why.

  “Lord Rahl, please . . . Raina is asking for you.”

  Richard enclosed her shoulders with one arm. “We were on our way there. Come on.”

  Richard didn’t ask how Berdine was. It was obvious she was sick with worry. “Berdine, some people have recovered from the plague. No one is stronger than Raina. She is Mord-Sith. She will be one of the ones who recovers.”

  Berdine nodded woodenly.

  Raina was lying on her bed. She was wearing her red leather. Standing in the doorway, Richard leaned toward Berdine and whispered, “Why is she dressed?” He left the obvious question of why she was wearing her red leather unasked.

  Berdine clutched his arm. “She asked me to dress her in the red leather of a Mord-Sith”—Berdine stifled a wail—“for the final battle.”

  Richard sank to his knees beside the bed. Raina’s half-open eyes rolled toward him. Sweat ran from her face. Her lower lip quivered.

  Raina gripped Richard’s arm. “Lord Rahl . . . please, take me out to see Reggie?”

  “Reggie?”

  “The chipmunks . . . please take me out to feed Reggie. He’s the one missing the end of his little tail.”

  His heart breaking, he smiled for her. “It would be my honor.”

  He scooped her up in his arms. She had lost a lot of weight. She hardly weighed anything.

  Raina wrapped a weak arm around his neck as she cuddled her head to his shoulder while he carried her through the halls.

  Berdine walked beside them, holding Raina’s other hand. Kahlan walked at his other side. Ulic and Egan marched behind.

  Soldiers along the way silently stepped clear, eyes to the ground, giving a salute of fist to heart as Richard and the procession passed. The salute was for Raina.

  Outside, Richard sat on the stone court, in the light of the dawning sun, holding Raina in his lap. Berdine sat on her heels by her head. Kahlan sat on his other side. Ulic and Egan, hands clasped behind their backs, stood not far to the rear. Richard saw a tear or two wend its way down each of their stony faces.

  “Over there,” Richard said to Kahlan, pointing with his chin. “Give me that box.”

  Kahlan turned and saw what he meant. He kept seeds in a box under a stone bench. She wiggled off the lid and held out the box.

  Richard scooped out a handful of seeds and tossed some on the ground bef
ore them. He trickled the rest into Raina’s bony hand.

  It wasn’t long before two chipmunks, tails twitching, scampered across the lawn. Richard had fed them enough so they knew that the appearance of people might mean food. They stuffed seeds in their cheeks, as best they could, between sudden, chattering bouts of trying to chase each other away. Raina watched, her eyes only half opened.

  Her Agiel dangled from the chain on the wrist of the hand that Berdine held. The two chipmunks, their cheeks full, scurried for their burrows to store their booty.

  Raina opened her arm out and rested her hand on the paving stone. She uncurled her fingers. Each shallow breath rattled. Berdine tenderly stroked Raina’s forehead.

  Another chipmunk appeared from under a bush. He came partway toward them, froze stiff while he checked for threat, and then dashed the rest of the way. He was missing the end of his tail. “Reggie,” Raina breathed.

  Raina smiled as Reggie climbed into her open hand. He sat there, pressing his little feet against her fingers as he popped seeds into his mouth with his tongue. He paused, sitting up in her hand, to rearrange the seeds stuffed in his cheeks. Satisfied, he dropped back down, putting his little feet to Raina’s fingers again. Raina let out a soft giggle.

  Berdine kissed her forehead. “I love you, Raina,” she whispered.

  “I love you, Berdine.”

  Richard felt Raina’s muscles go slack as she died in his arms while Reggie sat eating seeds from her hand.

  Chapter 55

  Kahlan stood behind Richard as he sat in his chair in his office, her arms circled around his neck, her cheek laid against the top of his head as she wept.

  Richard rolled Raina’s Agiel in his fingers. Berdine said that Raina had wanted him to have it.

  Berdine had asked for permission to go up to the Keep to tell Cara. She also asked if she could take her turn at watch over the sliph, as Cara had been up there for the last three days.

  Richard told her that she could do whatever she wished, for as long as she wished, and that if she wanted him to take her watch, or to come sit with her, he would. She had said that she wanted to be alone for a while.

  “Why hasn’t the temple sent its message?”

  Kahlan smoothed his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “What are we going to do?” he asked. It wasn’t a question for which he expected an answer. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  Kahlan rubbed her palms up and down the sides of his shoulders. “Do you think you might find an answer in the trial record?”

  “For all I know it could be the very last line I translate that gives me any information I can use.” He slowly shook his head. “Long before I can translate every line, we’ll all be dead.”

  Richard hooked Raina’s Agiel on the chain along with the amulet at his chest. The red color of the Agiel matched the ruby.

  Silence hung in the air for a time before he said, “Jagang is going to win.”

  Kahlan turned his head toward her. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

  He forced a smile. “You’re right. We’ll beat him.”

  A knock came to the door. Ulic stuck his head in when Richard called to ask who it was.

  “Lord Rahl, General Kerson wanted to know if he could talk to you for a minute.”

  Kahlan patted Richard’s shoulder. “I’m going to go tell Drefan and Nadine about Raina.”

  Richard walked to the door with her. General Kerson was waiting outside with his usual fistful of reports.

  “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes,” Richard said.

  As Kahlan left Richard to hear the general’s reports, Egan fell in with her. It felt odd to be guarded by Egan alone, without a Mord-Sith. One of them had always seemed to be around.

  “Mother Confessor,” Egan said, “some people just arrived at the palace and wanted to see you and Lord Rahl. I told them that everyone was busy. I didn’t want to burden Lord Rahl.”

  “Petitioners’ Hall must be packed with people who want to see us, what with all the trouble.”

  “They aren’t in Petitioners’ Hall. The guards stopped them as they went into one of the reception rooms. They aren’t exactly arrogant, like some of the representatives I’ve seen, but they are insistent, in an odd sort of way.”

  Kahlan frowned up at the huge, blond D’Haran. “Did they say who they were? Did you find out that much, at least?”

  “They said they were Andolians.”

  Kahlan jerked to a halt, seizing Egan’s massive arm. “Andolians! And the guards let them in? They let Andolians in the palace?”

  Egan’s brow drew down. “I didn’t hear how they got in. Only that they were here. Is this a problem, Mother Confessor?”

  The man’s hand was already on his sword.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that . . . dear spirits, how do you explain the Andolians?” She searched for the right words. “They aren’t exactly—human.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are creatures of magic that live in the Midlands. There are people with magic who live in the Midlands. It is sometimes difficult to know where to place the line separating them. Some of these people with magic are part creature—like the Andolians.”

  “Magic?” Egan asked with obvious distaste. “Are they dangerous?”

  Kahlan heaved a sigh as she changed her mind about where she was going and instead started out for the reception hall. “Not exactly. At least, not usually. Not if you know how to treat them.

  “No one knows a great deal about the Andolians. We leave them alone. Most people of the Midlands have a strong dislike for them. The Andolians steal things. Not for the wealth of the object, but simply because the Andolians are fascinated by things. Shiny things, mostly. A piece of glass, a gold piece, or a button—it’s all the same to them.

  “People don’t like them because the Andolians look much like you and I, and so people think they should behave like people, but they aren’t people, exactly.

  “They usually show up in places out of simple curiosity. We don’t allow them in the palace because they cause such a disruption. It’s best to simply keep them out. With the magic they have, if you try to discipline them, they can turn nasty. Very nasty.”

  “Perhaps I should have the soldiers get rid of them.”

  “No. That could get ugly. Dealing with them requires a very special kind of protocol. Fortunately, I know the protocol. I’ll get rid of them.”

  “How?”

  “The Andolians like to carry messages. They like that more than anything more than shiny objects, even. They love to carry messages for people. I guess it makes them feel more connected to their human side to be involved in human affairs.

  “Some people in the Midlands use them for that purpose. Andolians will carry a message more faithfully than any courier. They will do it for a shiny button. They would even do it for no compensation. They live to convey messages.

  “All I have to do is give them a message to carry, and they will be off to deliver it. That’s the easiest way to get rid of an Andolian.”

  “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.
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  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 basset 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.