Temple of the Winds

Sheltered among the towering maples, ash, and oak, sat a table covered with a white cloth and set with food and drink. Beyond the table, atop three square white marble platforms, stood a massive throne carved with gold-leaf vines, snakes, and other beasts.

Shota sat regally, one leg crossed casually over the other, her ageless almond eyes watching Kahlan's approach. Shota's arms rested on the chair's high, widely spaced arms, with her hands draped arrogantly over gold gargoyles. The gargoyles nuzzled her hands, as if hoping to be stroked. A rich canopy draped with heavy red brocade and trimmed with gold tassels shaded the throne's occupant from the morning sun, yet her luxuriant auburn hair shimmered as if touched by streamers of sunlight.

Kahlan halted, not far away, under the witch woman's rock-hard, penetrating gaze. The blue lightning screamed for release.

Shota clicked her lacquered fingernails together. A self-satisfied smile spread across her full red lips.

"Well, well, well," Shota said in her velvety voice. "The child assassin arrives at last."

"I am not an assassin," Kahlan said. "Nor am I a child. But I have had enough of your games."

Shota's smile slipped away. She put her hands to the chair's arms and stood. Points of her wispy, low-cut, variegated gray dress lifted in the gentle breeze. Her gaze never left Kahlan as she gracefully descended the three white marble platforms. "You're late." Shota held a hand out to the table. "The tea is getting cold." Kahlan flinched when a bolt of lightning struck from the blue sky, hitting the teapot. Amazingly, it didn't shatter.

Shota glanced down at Kahlan's hands, and then back to her eyes. "There. I believe it's hot, now. Please, won't you have a seat? We will have tea and… conversation."

Knowing Shota had seen the ominous blue light, Kahlan returned the self-assured smile in kind. Shota drew out a chair and sat. She again held out a hand in invitation. "Please, have a seat. I imagine you have things you wish to discuss." Kahlan slid into a chair as Shota poured tea, holding on the white top with her other hand as she did so. Steam rose from the cups. The tea was indeed hot. Shota lifted a gold-trimmed platter, offering Kahlan toast. Kahlan warily pulled a golden-crisp slab from the platter. Shota slid a bowl of honeyed butter across the table. "Well," Shota said. "Isn't this unpleasant." Against her will, Kahlan smiled. "Very."

Shota picked up her silver knife and spread honeyed butter across her slice of toast. She took a sip of tea.

"Eat, child. Murder is always best accomplished on a full stomach." "I have not come to murder you."

Shota's sly smile returned. "No, I suppose you have managed to justify it to yourself. Retribution, is it? Or perhaps self-defense. Punishment? Recompense? Justice?" The smooth smile widened. An eyebrow arched. "Bad manners?" "You sent Nadine to marry Richard."

"Ahh. Jealousy, then." Shota leaned back as she sipped her tea. "A noble motive, were it justified. I hope you realize that jealousy can be a cruel taskmaster."

Kahlan nibbled her crunchy toast. "Richard loves me, and I love him. We're engaged to be married."

"Yes, I know. For one who professes to love him, I would think you would be more understanding." "Understanding?"

"Of course. If you love someone, you want them to be happy. You want what's best for them."

"I make Richard happy. He wants me. I'm best for him." "Yes, well, we can't always have what we want, now can we?" Kahlan sucked honeyed butter from her finger. "Just tell me why you wish to hurt us."

Shota looked genuinely surprised. "Hurt you? Is that what you think? You think I am being spiteful?"

"Why else would you always try to keep us apart, to hurt us?" Shota took a dainty bite of toast. She chewed for a moment. "Has the plague come, yet?" The cup paused partway to Kahlan's lips. "How do you know about that?"

"I'm a witch woman. I see the current of events. Let me ask you a question. If you visited a young child sick with the plague, and the child's mother asked you if her child was going to recover, and you told her the truth, would you be guilty of causing the child's death because you foretold it?" "Of course not."

"Ah. It is only I, then, who am to be judged by different standards." "I'm not judging you. I simply want you to stop interfering with Richard's and my life together."

"A messenger is often blamed for the message."