Temple of the Winds

Sometimes, even though she had once brought him pain, a part of him was comforted to have Nadine around; she reminded him of home, and his happy childhood. She was a familiar face from a carefree time. Another part of him was troubled over what her real purpose was in coming. Despite what she might believe, she hadn't decided it on her own. Someone, or something, had precipitated her actions. Another part of him wanted to skin her alive.

After they left Bert's home, Yonick led them down a cobbled alley to a yard behind where Darby Andersen's family lived. The srnall yard of mud churned with wood shavings was cluttered with cutoffs and scraps, several stickered stacks of lumber protected by tarps, some old, rusty two-man rip saws, two carving benches, and warped, split, or twisted boards leaning up against the buildings to the side. Darby recognized Richard and Kahlan from the Ja'La game. He was astonished that they had come to his home. To have them come to see a Ja'La game was a cause of great pride, but to have them come to his home was beyond belief. He frantically brushed sawdust from his short brown hair and dirty work clothes.

Yonick had told Richard that the whole Anderson family-Darby, his two sisters, his parents, father's parents, and an aunt-lived over their small workshop. Clive Anderson, Darby's father, and Erling, his grandfather, made chairs. Both men, having heard the commotion, had come to the wide, double doors and were bowing.

"Forgive us, Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl," Clive said after Darby had introduced his father, "but we didn't know you were coming, or we would have made preparations-I'd have had my wife make tea, or something. I'm afraid that we're just simple folk."

"Please don't be concerned about any of that, master Anderson," Richard said. "We came because we were concerned about your son." Erling, the grandfather, took a stem step toward Darby. "What's the boy done?" "It's nothing like that," Richard said. "You have a fine grandson. We watched him play Ja'La the other day. One of the other boys is sick. Worse, two others of them have died." Darby's eyes widened. "Died? Who?" "Kip," Yonick said, his voice choking off. "And Sidney," Richard added. "Bert is very ill, too."

Darby stood in shock. His grandfather put a comforting hand to the boy's shoulder. "My brother, Drefan"- Richard lifted a hand to the side-"is a healer. We're checking on all the boys on the Ja'La team. We don't know if Drefan can help, but he would like to try." "I'm fine," Darby said in a shaky voice.

Erling, an unshaven, scrawny man, had teeth so crooked Richard wondered how he managed to chew his food. He noticed Kahlan's white dress and Richard's gold cloak billowing in the cold wind, and gestured toward the shop.

"Please, won't you all step inside? The wind is biting today. It's warmer inside, out of the weather. I think we'll have snow tonight, the way it looks."

Ulic and Egan took up posts near the back gate. Soldiers milled about in the alley. Richard, Kahlan, Nadine, and Drefan went into the shop. Cara and Raina shadowed them inside, but remained on guard near the doors.

Old chairs and templates hung from pegs on the dusty walls. Cobwebs in all the corners, that in a forest would have netted dew, here netted loads of sawdust. The workbench held chair pieces being glued up, a fine-toothed saw, a variety of smaller finishing and heading planes, and a number of chisels. Several jack and long joiner planes hung on the wall behind the bench along with hammers and other tools.

Partially finished chairs, cinched tightly together in twisted ropes as they were being finished, or drying in peg-and-wedge clamps, sat about the floor. A carving horse where the grandfather had been when they came into the yard held a split billet of ash he had been working with a drawknife.

Clive, a broad-shouldered young man, seemed content to let his father do the talking. "What's ailing these children?" Erling asked Drefan. Drefan cleared his throat but let Richard answer. Richard was so tired he could hardly stand anymore. He almost felt as if he were asleep, and this was just a bad dream. "The plague. I'm relieved to see that Darby, here, is well." Erling's scruffy jaw dropped. "Dear spirits spare us!" Clive turned white. "My daughters are sick."

He turned suddenly and ran for the stairs, but stopped abruptly. "Please, master Drefan, will you see them?" "Of course. Show the way."

Upstairs, Darby's mother, grandmother, and aunt had been making meat pies. Turnips were boiling in a pot hung in the hearth, and the boiling water had steamed the windows over.

The three women, alarmed by Clive's calls, were waiting wide-eyed in the center of the upstairs common room. They were shocked by the sight of the strangers, but bowed the instant they saw Kahlan's white dress. Kahlan, in the dress of the Mother Confessor, needed no introduction to anyone in Aydindril, or most of the Midlands, for that matter.