Temple of the Winds by Terry Goodkind
Kahlan gently pushed Cara back and knelt beside the choking, gasping young man.
“Marlin, don’t mistake my distaste for torture as a lack of resolve. If you don’t start telling me what I want to know,” she whispered, “I’m going to go for a long walk and then to dinner and I’m going to leave you in here all alone with Cara. Crazy as she is, I’ll leave you alone with her. And then, when I come back, if you still think to hold out on me, I’m going to use my power on you, and you can’t even imagine how much worse that will be. Cara can’t even come close to what I can do; she can use your magic and your mind. I can destroy it. Is that what you want?”
He shook his head as he clutched his ribs. “Please,” he begged, tears welling up again, “don’t. I’ll answer your questions… but I don’t really know anything. Emperor Jagang comes to me in my dreams and tells me what to do. I know the cost of failure. I do as I’m told.” He paused to gasp a sob. “He told me to… to come here and kill you both. He told me to find a soldier’s uniform, and weapons, and to come kill you both. He uses wizards, and sorceresses, to do his bidding.”
Kahlan stood, puzzling over Marlin’s words. He seemed to have reverted to being hardly more than a boy. Something was missing, but she couldn’t imagine what it could be. It made sense on the surface—Jagang sending an assassin—but something deeper didn’t tally. She paced to the side table with the lamp and leaned a hip against it. With her back to Marlin, she rubbed her throbbing temples.
Cara inched close. “Are you all right?”
Kahlan nodded. “This worry is just giving me a headache, that’s all.”
“Maybe you could have Lord Rahl kiss it and make it better.”
Kahlan chuckled silently at Cara’s concerned frown. “That would work.” She waved her hands in the air as if shooing a gnat, trying to chase away the doubts. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“The dream walker trying to kill his enemy doesn’t make sense?”
“Well, think about it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Marlin hugging his ribs and rocking on the floor. His eyes, even when they were filled with terror, and even, like now, when he wasn’t looking her way, for some reason made her skin crawl. She turned back to Cara and lowered her voice. “Surely Jagang had to know that one man, even a wizard, would fail at such a task. Richard would recognize a man with the gift, and besides, there are too many people here who would be only too ready to kill an intruder.”
“But still, with his gift, he might have a chance. Jagang wouldn’t care if the man were killed. He has an abundance of others to do his bidding.”
Kahlan’s thoughts flicked about, trying to pick out the nettle of a reason behind her itching doubt.
“Even if he managed to kill some of them with his magic, there are still too many. A whole army of mriswith failed to kill Richard. He can recognize one with the gift, with magic, as a threat. He doesn’t know how to command his magic, much as you don’t understand how to control Marlin’s, beyond giving him pain with it, but his guard would be up, at the least.
“This just doesn’t make any sense. Jagang is far from stupid; there has to be more to it. He must have some plan to this. Something more than we’re seeing.”
Cara clasped her hands behind her back as she took a deep breath. She turned. “Marlin.” His head came up, his eyes at attention. “What was Jagang’s plan?”
“To have me kill Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor.”
“What else?” Kahlan asked. “What more was there to his plan?”
His eyes flooded. “I don’t know. I swear. I told you as he ordered me. I was to get a soldier’s uniform and weapons so I would look like I belonged and could get close. I was to kill you both.”
Kahlan wiped a hand across her face. “We’re not asking the right questions.”
“I don’t know what else there could be. He has admitted the worst of it. He told us his goal. What more could there be?”
“I don’t know, but there’s something still itching at me.” Kahlan sighed in resignation. “Maybe Richard can reason this out. He is the Seeker of Truth, after all. He’ll figure out what it means. Richard will know the right questions to ask so that…”
Kahlan’s head suddenly came up, her eyes wide. She advanced a long stride toward the man on the floor.
“Marlin, did Jagang also tell you to announce yourself when you arrived?”
“Yes. Once inside the palace, I was to give my reason for being here.”
Kahlan stiffened. She snatched Cara’s arm and pulled her close while keeping her eyes on Marlin. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Richard about this. It’s too dangerous.”
“I have Marlin’s power. He’s helpless.”
Kahlan’s gaze darted about, hardly hearing what Cara had said. “We have to put him somewhere safe. This room won’t do.” She put a thumbnail between her teeth.
Cara frowned. “This room is as safe as anywhere. He can’t get away. He’s safe in here.”
Kahlan took her thumb from her mouth as she stared at the man rocking on the floor.
“No. We have to find someplace safer. I think we’ve made a big mistake. I think we’re in a lot of trouble.”
3
“Let me just kill him,” Cara said. “I have but to touch him in the right place with my Agiel and his heart will stop. He won’t suffer.”
For the first time, Kahlan seriously considered Cara’s oft-repeated request. Though she had had to kill people before, and had ordered the execution of others, she dismissed the impulse. She had to think this through. For all she knew, that could be Jagang’s true plan, though she couldn’t imagine what good it would gain him. But he had to have some scheme to what he had ordered. He wasn’t stupid; he had to know that Marlin would be captured, at the least.
“No,” Kahlan said. “We don’t know enough yet. For all we know, that could be the worst thing we could do. We can’t do anything else until we think it through carefully. We’ve already walked into a swamp without pausing to think about where we were going.”
Cara sighed at the familiar refusal. “Then what do you wish to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Jagang had to know he would be captured, at the least, yet he ordered it. Why? We have to figure this out. Until we do, we have to put him somewhere safe, where he can’t escape and hurt anyone.”
“Mother Confessor,” Cara said with exaggerated patience, “he cannot escape. I have control of his power. Believe me, I know how to control a person when I have domination over their magic. I have had an abundance of experience. He is incapable of doing anything against my wishes. Here, let me show you.”
She threw open the door. Surprised men reached for weapons as they gazed around the room in silent, professional appraisal. With the extra light from beyond the door, Kahlan could see the true extent of the mess. A spray of blood crossed the bookcase at an angle. Blood soaked the crimson carpet, the spongy, reddish blotch extending past the perimeter of gold banding. Marlin’s face was a bloody sight. The side of his beige tunic was dark with a wet stain.
“You,” Cara said, “Give me your sword.” The blond-haired soldier drew his weapon and handed it over without hesitation. “Now,” she announced, “all of you listen to me. I’m going to give the Mother Confessor, here, a demonstration of the power of a Mord-Sith. If any of you go against my orders, you will answer to me”—she gestured back to Marlin—“just like he did.”
After another glance at the miserable man on the floor, some men nodded and the rest voiced their consent.
Cara pointed with the sword at Marlin. “If he can make it to the door, you all are to let him go—he is to have his freedom.” The men grumbled objections. “Don’t argue with me!”
The D’Haran soldiers fell silent. A Mord-Sith was trouble enough, but when she had command of a person’s magic she was something altogether beyond trouble: she was dealing in magic, and they had no desire to stick their finger in a cauldron of dark sorcery stirred by an angry Mord-Sith
Cara strode over to Marlin and held the sword down to him, hilt first. “Take it.” Marlin hesitated, then snatched the sword when she frowned in warning.
Cara looked up at Kahlan. “We always let our captives keep their weapons. It’s a constant reminder to them that they are helpless, that even their weapons will do them no good against us.”
“I know,” Kahlan said in a small voice. “Richard told me.”
Cara motioned Marlin to his feet. When he didn’t move fast enough for her, she punched his cracked rib.
“What are you waiting for! Get up! Now, go stand over there.”
After he had moved off the carpet, she grasped the corner and flung it aside. She pointed at the polished wood floor and snapped her fingers. Marlin scurried to the spot, grunting in pain with each step.
Cara snatched him by the scruff of his neck and bent him over. “Spit.”
Marlin coughed blood and spat on the floor at his feet. Cara hauled him up straight, seized the neck of his tunic, and yanked his face close.
She gritted her teeth. “Now, you listen. You know the kind of pain I can give you if you displease me. Do you need another demonstration?”
He vigorously shook his head. “No, Mistress Cara.”
“Good boy. Now, when I tell you to do something, that is what I wish you to do. If you do otherwise, if you go against my orders, my wishes, your magic will twist your guts like a washrag. As long as you continue to go against my wishes, the pain will only get worse. I won’t let the magic kill you, but you will wish otherwise. You will beg me to kill you in order to escape the pain. I don’t grant my pets’ requests for death.”
Marlin’s face had gone ashen.
“Now, stand on that spot of your spit.” Marlin moved both feet onto the red splat. Cara gripped his jaw in one hand and pointed her Agiel at his face.
“My wish is for you to stand right there, on that spot of your spit, until I tell you otherwise. You are never to so much as lift a finger to harm me, or anyone else, ever again. That is my wish. Do you understand? Do you fully understand my wishes?”
He nodded, as best he could the way her hand clamped his jaw. “Yes, Mistress Cara. I would never hurt you—I swear. You want me to stand on my spit until you give me permission to do otherwise.” Tears welled up anew. “I won’t move, I swear. Please don’t hurt me.”
Cara shoved his face away. “You disgust me. Men who break as easily as you disgust me. I’ve had girls last longer under my Agiel,” she muttered. She pointed behind. “Those men won’t hurt you. They will do nothing to stop you. If you get to the door, against my wishes, you are free and the pain will be gone.” She glared at the soldiers. “You all heard me, didn’t you? If he reaches the door, he’s free.” The soldiers nodded. “If he kills me, he’s free.”
This time they didn’t agree until Cara yelled her order again. Cara turned her hot glare to Kahlan. “That includes you. If he kills me, or if he makes the door, he’s free.”
No matter how improbable, Kahlan wouldn’t agree to such a thing. Marlin wanted to kill Richard. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to understand. You need to trust my word.”
Kahlan forced out a breath. “Get on with it,” she said, without agreeing to the terms.
Cara turned her back to Marlin and folded her arms. “You know my wishes, my pet. If you wish to escape, this is your chance. You reach the door, and you’re free. If you want to kill me for what I’ve done to you, now’s your chance for that, too.
“You know,” she added, “I don’t think I’ve seen nearly enough of your blood. When we’re done with all this nonsense, I’m going to take you somewhere private, where the Mother Confessor won’t be around to intercede on your behalf, I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon and night punishing you with my Agiel, just because I’m in the mood. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.”
She shrugged. “Unless, of course, you kill me, or escape.”
The soldiers stood mute. The room exuded a heavy silence as Cara waited with her arms folded. Marlin carefully looked around, studying the soldiers, Kahlan, and Cara’s back. His fingers worked on the hilt of the sword, drawing it tighter into his grip. His eyes narrowed as he considered.
Watching Cara’s back, he finally took a small, tentative step to the side.
To Kahlan, it looked as if an invisible club had whacked him in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt. A low groan wheezed from his throat. With a cry of effort, he dived for the door.
He hit the floor screaming. He clutched his abdomen with both arms as he writhed. With fingers curled in agony, he threw himself out flat on the floor and tried to claw his way to the door. It was still a goodly distance. Each inch he gained racked him with ever worse convulsions of pain. Kahlan winced at his panting screams.
In a last, desperate effort, he snatched up the sword again and staggered to his feet, straightening partially, lifting the sword above his head. Kahlan tensed. Even if he couldn’t make his arms do his bidding, he could fall and cleave Cara.
The risk to Cara was too great. Kahlan took an urgent step forward as Marlin bellowed and tried to bring the sword down to hack at Cara. Cara, watching Kahlan, held up an admonishing finger, stopping Kahlan where she stood.
Behind her, Marlin’s sword clattered to the floor as he crumpled, holding his stomach as he shrieked. He crashed to the floor, his distress obviously growing precipitously with each moment as he writhed on the polished wood floor like a fish out of water.
“What did I tell you, Marlin?” Cara asked in a quiet voice. “What are my wishes?”
He seemed to grasp the meaning of her words as if they were from a person yelling as he threw a lifeline to a drowning man. His frantic gaze hunted the floor. Finally, he saw it. He clawed his way to the spot of his spit, moving as quickly as the racking pain allowed. At last, he managed to stagger to his feet.
He stood, fists at his side, still shaking and screaming.
“Both feet, Marlin,” Cara said casually.
He looked down and saw that only one foot was on the spit. He jerked the other closer, onto the red spot.
He sagged and finally fell silent. Kahlan felt herself sag with him. His eyes closed, panting, dripping sweat, he stood trembling with the lingering effects of the ordeal.
Cara lifted an eyebrow to Kahlan. “Understand?”
Kahlan scowled. Cara scooped up the sword and marched it over to the door. As one, the soldiers all backed up a step. She held the sword out, hilt first. Reluctantly, its owner retrieved it.
“Any questions, gentlemen?” Cara asked in an icy voice. “Good. Now stop banging on the door when I’m busy.” She slammed the heavy door in their faces.
Marlin’s lower lip sucked in and out over his teeth with each panting breath. Cara put her face close to his.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to close your eyes. Did you hear me say you could close them?”
His eyes opened wide. “No, Mistress Cara.”
“Then what were they doing closed?”
Marlin’s terror quavered through his voice. “I’m sorry, Mistress Cara. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.”
“Cara.”
She turned, as if she had forgotten Kahlan was even in the room. “What?”
Kahlan tilted her head in gesture. “We need to talk.”
“You see?” Cara asked, when she had joined Kahlan at the table with the lamp. “You see what I mean? He can’t hurt anyone. He can’t escape. No man has ever escaped a Mord-Sith.”
Kahlan lifted an eyebrow. “Richard did.”
Cara straightened and let out a noisy breath. “Lord Rahl is different. This man is no Lord Rahl. Mord-Sith have proven themselves unerring thousands of times. No one but Lord Rahl ever killed his Mistress to reclaim his magic and escape.”
“No matter how improbable, Richard has proven that Mord-Sith aren’t infallible. I don’t care how many thousands Mord-Sith ha
“But—”
“It’s possible Jagang was killed—he might be dead and we have nothing to fear—but if he’s still alive, and anything goes wrong with Marlin, here, it will be Richard who pays the price. Jagang wants Richard dead. Are you so stubborn that you’re willing to put Richard at risk for the sake of your pride?”
Cara scratched her neck as she considered. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at Marlin standing on the spot of his spit, his eyes wide open, sweat dripping off the end of his nose.
“What do you want to do? This room has no windows. We can lock and bar the door. Where can we put him that would be safer than this room?”
Kahlan pressed her fingers over the burning ache under her sternum.
“The pit.”
Kahlan twisted her fingers together as she came to a halt before the iron door. Marlin, looking like a frightened puppy, stood silently in the center of a knot of D’Haran soldiers a ways back up the torch-lit hall.
“What’s the matter?” Cara asked.
Kahlan flinched. “What?”
“I asked what was the matter. You look like you’re afraid the door is going to bite you.”
Kahlan pulled her hands apart and made herself put them at her sides. “Nothing.” She turned and lifted the ring with the keys from the iron peg in the coarse stone wall beside the door.
Cara lowered her voice. “Don’t lie to a sister of the Agiel.”
Kahlan mimicked a quick smile of apology. “The pit is where the condemned await execution. I have a half sister—Cyrilla. She was the queen of Galea. When she was here, when Aydindril fell to the Order, before Richard liberated the city, they threw her in the pit with a gang of about a dozen murderers.”
“Have a half sister? She still lives, then?”
Kahlan nodded as the mists of memories swirled before her mind’s eye. “But they had her down there for days. Prince Harold, her brother, my half brother, rescued her when they were taking her to the block to be beheaded, but she’s never been the same since. She’s withdrawn into herself. On rare occasions she comes out of her stupor, and insists that the people need a queen able to lead them and that I become the queen of Galea in her place. I agreed.” Kahlan paused. “She screams inconsolably if she comes awake and sees men.”