Temple of the Winds by Terry Goodkind
Shota’s gaze turned dangerous. “Where?” she repeated.
Shota’s tone was so threatening that Kahlan forgot she needn’t be afraid of the witch woman.
“In a place between worlds,” Kahlan said, suddenly embarrassed to reveal the details. “The good spirits… took us there,” she stammered. “The good spirits… they wanted us to be together.”
“I see.” Shota’s gaze cooled. Her small smile returned. “I’m afraid that doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t count! What in the name of all that’s good does that mean? I was with him. That’s all that matters. You’re just vexed because it’s true.”
“True? You were not with him in this world, child. This is the world we live in. You were not with him here, where it counts. In this world, you are still a virgin.”
“That’s absurd.”
Shota shrugged. “Think what you will. I am satisfied that you have not been with him.”
Kahlan folded her arms. “This world, or another, it doesn’t matter. I was with him.”
Shota’s smooth brow puckered with mirth restrained. “And, if you have been with him in the place between worlds, where the good spirits took you, then why have you not been with him in this world, since you are no longer a virgin, here, as you say?”
Kahlan blinked. “Well, I… we… thought it best to wait until we were wedded, that’s all.”
Shota’s soft, exultant laugh drifted out through the morning air. “You see? You know the truth of what I say.” She held the teacup between the tips of the fingers of both hands as she sipped, more balmy laughter escaping between each sip.
Kahlan fumed, somehow feeling she had lost the argument. She tried to look confident as she leaned back and took a drink of her own tea.
“If it pleases you to delude yourself with punctilios, then be my guest. I know what we did,” Kahlan said. “I don’t know why it’s any concern of yours, anyway.”
Shota looked up. “You know why it’s my concern, Mother Confessor. Every Confessor bears a Confessor. If you have his child, it will be a boy. I told you both to remember that before you lay together. Lust dims thoughts of the consequences.
“From you, the boy would be a Confessor. From Richard, he would have the gift. Such a dangerous melding has never taken place before.”
With a patient, reasoned tone, meant almost as much for herself as for the witch woman, Kahlan hid her inner terror at Shota’s prediction.
“Shota, you are a witch woman of great talent, and you may know it would be a boy, I grant you that, but you could not know he would be like most of the male Confessors born in the past. Not all were like that. You have as much as admitted that you don’t know if it would be so. You are not the Creator; you can’t know what He will choose to do—if He even chooses to give us a child.”
“I don’t need to see the future in this. Almost every male Confessor was like that. They were beasts without conscience. My mother lived in the dark times caused by a male Confessor. You would visit upon the world not only a male Confessor, but one with the gift. You cannot even envision such a cataclysm.
“It is for this very reason that Confessors are not supposed to love their mates. If she bears a male child, she must ask the husband to kill the baby. You love Richard. You would not ask that of him. I have warned you that I have the strength to do what you will not. I also told you that it will not be personal.”
“You talk about the distant future as if it has come to pass. It has not,” Kahlan said. “Events do not always unfold as you say. Yet, other things have already come to pass. Because of Richard, you still live. You told us that if Richard and I were able to close the veil, saving you and everyone else from the Keeper, you would be forever grateful to us both.”
“And so I am.”
Kahlan leaned forward. “You show your gratitude not only by threatening to murder my child should I have one, but also by trying to kill me when I come to ask your help?”
Shota’s brow twitched. “I have made no attempt on your life.”
“You sent Samuel up there to attack me, and then you have the effrontery to rebuke me for coming prepared to defend myself. The little monster threw me on the ground and attacked me. If I hadn’t had a weapon, who knows what he would have done. This is your gratitude? He said that when you were through with me, you would let him eat me. And then you expect me to believe in your benevolence? You dare to profess gratitude?”
Shota’s gaze shifted toward the trees. “Samuel!” She set down her teacup. “Samuel! Come here at once!”
The squat figure loped out of the trees, using his knuckles to help himself bound across the grass. He ran to Shota and nuzzled against her legs.
“Mistress,” he purred.
“Samuel, what did I tell you about the Mother Confessor?”
“Mistress told Samuel to go get her.”
Shota looked into Kahlan’s eyes. “What else did I tell you?”
“To bring her to you.”
“Samuel,” she said with rising inflection.
“Mistress said not to harm her.”
“You attacked me!” Kahlan put in. “You threw me on the ground and jumped on me! You said you were going to eat me when your mistress was through with me.”
“Is that true, Samuel?”
“Samuel not hurt pretty lady,” Samuel grouched.
“Is what she says true? Did you attack her?”
Samuel hissed at Kahlan. Shota thunked him on the head with a finger. He shrank back against her leg.
“Samuel, what did I tell you? What were my instructions?”
“Samuel must guide Mother Confessor back. Samuel must not touch Mother Confessor. Samuel must not hurt Mother Confessor. Samuel must not threaten Mother Confessor.”
Shota drummed her fingers on the table. “And did you disobey me, Samuel?”
Samuel hid his head under the hem of her dress.
“Samuel, answer my question at once. Is what the Mother Confessor says true?”
“Yes, mistress,” Samuel whined.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Samuel.”
“Samuel sorry.”
“We will discuss this later. Leave us.”
The witch woman’s servant skittered away into the trees. Shota turned back to face Kahlan’s eyes.
“I told him not to harm or threaten you. I can understand why you would be upset and think I meant you harm. Please accept my apology.” She poured Kahlan more tea. “You see? I have no intention of hurting you.”
Kahlan took a sip from her full cup. “Samuel is the least of it. I know you want to hurt me and Richard, but I’m not afraid of you anymore. You can no longer harm me.”
Shota’s smug smile returned. “Really?”
“I’d suggest you not try to use your power against me.”
“My power? All things I do, all things everyone does, is using their power. To breathe is to use my power.”
“I’m talking about hurting me. If you dare try it, you’ll not survive the attempt.”
“Child, I have no wish to harm you, despite what you think.”
“A brave thing to say, now that you know you can’t.”
“Really? Did you ever think that the tea might be poisoned?”
Her smile widened when Kahlan stiffened. “You…?”
“Of course not. I told you, I have no wish to harm you. If I wished to harm you, I could do any number of things. I could have simply put a viper behind your heels. Vipers dislike sudden movement.”
If there was one thing Kahlan hated, it was snakes, and Shota knew it.
“Relax, child. There is no viper under your chair.” Shota took a bite of her toast.
Kahlan eased her breath out. “But you wished to make me think there might be.”
“What I wished is for you to realize that confidence can be overrated. If it will please you, I will tell you that I have always regarded you as singularly dangerous for any number of reasons. That you have found a way
“It is the other things you do that frighten me. Your womb frightens me. Your arrogant certitude frightens me.”
Kahlan nearly leaped to her feet in anger, but then she suddenly thought of the children dying back in Aydindril. How many of them hung near death, shivering in fear for their lives, while Kahlan stubbornly debated fault and imputation with Shota. Shota knew something about the plague, and about the winds hunting Richard. What significance was Kahlan’s pride in the face of that?
She remembered, too, part of the prophecy:… no blade, forged of steel or conjured of sorcery, can touch this foe.
In much the same way, crossing swords with Shota wasn’t going to work. This was serving no purpose, and worse, solving nothing.
Kahlan admitted to herself that she had come for vengeance. Her true duty should be to help people who were suffering and dying. How would anything but pride be satisfied by striking out at Shota? She was stubbornly putting herself and her insecurity above innocent lives. She was being selfish.
“Shota, I came with hurt in my heart because of Nadine. I wanted you to leave Richard and me be. You say you have no wish to harm us, and that your intent is to help. I also wish to help people who are desperate and dying. Why don’t we, for the moment at least, agree to take each other’s word as true?”
Shota watched over her teacup. “What an outrageous concept.”
Kahlan reasoned with her inner fear, her inner rage. Her anguish at the things Nadine did made Kahlan want to strike out at Shota. What if it wasn’t Shota’s fault. What if Nadine was acting on her own, much the same way as Samuel had? What if Shota was telling the truth, if she had not meant to cause harm?
If that were true, then Kahlan was guilty of a grievous wrong in wanting to strike out at Shota.
Kahlan admitted to herself that Shota had been right, that she had been justifying vengeance simply to be able to tap her deadly power. She hadn’t been willing to listen.
Kahlan placed her hands on the table. Shota sipped her tea as she watched the blue glow around Kahlan’s hands fade and finally extinguish. Kahlan didn’t know if she would be able to call it forth should Shota strike, but she realized it didn’t matter.
Failure in her true task was too great a price to pay for pride.
Kahlan felt that this was the only thing that could truly have a chance of saving her future, of saving Richard, and of saving those innocent people back in Aydindril. Richard always said to think of the solution, not the problem.
She would trust in Shota’s word.
“Shota,” Kahlan whispered, “I always thought the worst of you. Fear has been only part of it. As you warned, jealousy has been my taskmaster. I beg you forgive my obstinacy and insolence.
“I know that you have tried to help people before. Please, help me, now. I need answers. Lives depend on this. Please, talk with me. I’ll try to hear with an open mind the things you say, knowing that you are the messenger, and not the cause.”
Shota set down her teacup. “Congratulations, Mother Confessor. You have earned the right to ask me questions. Have the courage to hear the answers, and they will be of aid to you.”
“I swear to do my best,” Kahlan said.
41
Shota poured them more tea. “What do you wish to know?”
Kahlan reached for her cup. “Do you know anything about the Temple of the Winds?”
“No.”
Kahlan paused, cup in hand. “Well, you told Nadine that the winds hunt Richard.”
“I did.”
“Could you explain that? What you meant?”
Shota lifted a hand in a vague gesture. “I don’t know how to explain to a woman who is not a witch how I see the flow of time, the passing of future events. I guess you could say that it’s something like memories. When you think about a past event, or a person, say, the memory comes to you. Sometimes you more vividly remember past events. Some things you can’t recall.
“My talent is like that, except I am also able to do the same with the future. To me, there is little difference between past, present, and future. I ride a current of time, seeing both upstream and down. To me, seeing the future is as simple as it is for you to remember the flow of past events.”
“But sometimes I can’t remember things,” Kahlan said.
“It is the same with me. I can’t recall whatever happened to a bird my mother would call when I was very young. I remember it sitting on her finger as she spoke soft, tender words to it. I don’t remember if it died, or if it flew away.
“Other events, such as the death of a loved one, I remember vividly. I remember the texture of the dress my mother wore on the day she died. Even today, I could measure out for you the length of the loose thread on the sleeve.”
“I understand.” Kahlan stared down into her tea. “I, too, remember well the day my mother died. I remember every horrid detail, even though I wish I could forget.”
Shota placed her elbows on the table and twined her fingers together. “The future is that way with me. I can’t always see pleasant future events that I wish to see, and I sometimes can’t avoid seeing those things I abhor. Some events I can see with clarity, and others, despite how much I wish to see them, are only shadows in the fog.”
“What about the winds hunting Richard?”
With a distant look, Shota shook her head. “That was disturbing. It was as if someone else’s memory was being forced on me. As if someone else was using me to pass on a message.”
“Do you think it was a message, or a warning?”
A thoughtful frown creased Shota’s brow. “I wondered that, myself. I don’t know the answer. I passed it on through Nadine because I thought Richard should know, in either case.”
Kahlan rubbed her forehead. “Shota, when the plague started, it started among children who had been playing or watching a game.”
“Ja’La.”
“Yes, that’s right. Emperor Jagang—”
“The dream walker.”
Kahlan looked up. “You know of him?”
“He visits my future memories occasionally. He plays tricks, trying to get into my dreams. I won’t allow it.”
“Do you think it possible that it was the dream walker who gave you this message about the winds hunting Richard?”
“No. I know his tricks. Take my word; it was not a message from Jagang. What of the plague and the Ja’La game?”
“Well, Jagang used his ability as a dream walker to slip into the mind of a wizard he sent to assassinate Richard. He was at the Ja’La game. The wizard, I mean. Jagang saw the game through this wizard’s eyes.
“Jagang was incensed that Richard had changed the rules so that all the children could play. The plague started among those children. That’s one reason we think Jagang was responsible.
“The first child we went to see was near death.” Kahlan closed her eyes and covered them with her fingertips at the memory. She took a settling breath. “While Richard and I knelt at his side, he died. He was just a boy. An innocent boy. His whole body was rotting from the plague. I can’t imagine the suffering he endured. He died before our eyes.”
“I’m sorry,” Shota whispered.
Kahlan composed herself before looking up. “After he had died, his hand reached up and grabbed ahold of Richard’s shirt. His lungs filled with air, he pulled Richard close, and he said, ‘The winds hunt you.’”
A troubled sigh came from across the table. “Then I was right; it was not something I saw, but a message sent through me.”
“Shota, Richard thinks it means that the Temple of the Winds is hunting him. He has a journal from a man who lived during the great war of three thousand years ago. The journal tells of how the wizards of that time placed things of great value, and great danger, in the temple, and then they sent the temple away.”
Frowning, Shota leaned forward. “Away? Away where?”
“We don’t know. The Temple of the Winds
“I know the place. There is no temple there, only a few bits of old ruins.”
Kahlan nodded. “It’s possible the wizards used their power to blast the side of the mountain away and bury the temple in a rockslide. Whatever they did, it’s gone. From information in the journal, Richard believes that the red moons were a warning from the temple. He further believes that the Temple of the Winds is also known more simply as ‘the winds.’”
Shota tapped a finger against the side of her teacup. “So the message could have come directly from the Temple of the Winds.”
“Do you think that possible? How could a place send a message?”
“The wizards of that time could do things with magic we can only wonder at. The sliph, for example. From what I know, and what you have told me, my best guess would be that Jagang has somehow stolen something deadly from the Temple of the Winds, and used it to start the plague.”
Kahlan felt a cold wave of fright flood through her. “How could he do such a thing?”
“He is a dream walker. He has access to untold knowledge. Despite his crude objectives, he is anything but stupid. I have been touched by his mind in my sleep, when he hunts in the night. He is not to be underestimated.”
“Shota, he wishes to extinguish all magic.”
Shota lifted an eyebrow. “I have already told you I will answer your questions. There is no need to convince me of my own interest in this matter. Just as the danger from the Keeper, Jagang is no less a threat to me. He promises to eliminate magic, but to accomplish those ends he uses magic.”
“But how could he have stolen this plague from the Temple of the Winds? Do you think it even possible? Really?”
“I can tell you that the plague did not start of its own account. Your guess is correct. It was ignited through magic.”
“How can we stop it?”
“I know of no cure for plague.” Shota took a sip of her tea. She glanced up at Kahlan. “On the other hand, how could a plague be started?”
“Magic.” Kahlan frowned. “You mean… you mean that if magic could start it, even though we don’t know how to cure the plague, magic may be able to stop it? Is that what you’re suggesting?”