Temple of the Winds

"We were just going out for a walk," Kahlan said. "You've been working hard, Nadine. Why don't you come along with us?" Richard frowned at Kahlan. She didn't look back at him. Nadine studied Kahlan's eyes for a moment. "Sure. I'd like that." The six of them made their way through the marble halls, past imposing tapestries and elegant furniture, and across sumptuous carpets on their way toward the main palace gates. Soldiers on patrol bowed or clapped fists over heart as the six of them passed. The staff Richard saw going about their business seemed to be in a state of shock. He saw people weeping as they hurried about their tasks.

Before they made the door. they encountered Tristan Bashkar. Richard was in no mood to speak with the Jarian ambassador. Tristan sauntered to a halt before them. There would be no avoiding him this time.

Tristan bowed his head. "Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl. I'm glad I ran into you."

"What do you want, Tristan?" Kahlan asked in a level tone. He watched her cleavage as she spoke. His gaze moved to Richard. "I want to know-"

Richard cut him off. "Did you come to offer Jara's surrender?" Tristan pulled his coat back and rested his fist on his hip. "The time I was allotted is not yet expired. I'm concerned about this plague. You're Lord Rahl. You're supposed to be running everything, now. I want lo know what you're going to do about the plague." Richard restrained himself. "What we can."

Tristan glanced to Kahlan's chest again. "Well. I'm sure that you can understand that I need assurance." His gaze returned to Richard. A sly smile spread on his face. "After all, how can I, in good conscience, surrender my land to a man overseeing what may prove to be the greatest cataclysm in the history of the Midlands? No offense intended. The skies speak the truth to me. I'm sure you can understand my position."

Richard leaned toward the pompous ambassador. "You are rapidly running out of time, ambassador. You had better be prepared to surrender Jara soon, or I will see to it-my way. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to get some fresh air. It suddenly stinks in here." Tristan Bashkar's expression darkened.

When his eyes turned toward Kahlan again, Richard yanked the knife from Tristan's belt scabbard before he could so much as blink. Everyone froze. Richard pressed the point to the man's chest.

"And if I ever again catch your lecherous eyes anywhere on Kahlan but her face, I'll cut out your heart."

Richard turned and loosed the knife, burying it in a round oak ball atop a nearby newel. The twang echoed through the marble halls. Without waiting for a response, he took Kahlan by the arm and marched away, his golden cloak billowing out behind. Kahlan's face was red. The two Mord-Sith followed, grinning broadly. Drefan smiled, too, as he followed after. Nadine showed no reaction.

CHAPTER 51

In the distance, a dog barked as Richard led them lip the cobbled alley. He brought his escorts to a halt outside the small yard behind the Anderson family's home. The yard was still cluttered with cutoffs, wood scraps, shavings, stickered lumber, and the two carving benches.

Richard heard neither the sound of wood being worked nor voices. He swung open the gate and made his way through the clutter. The workshop remained silent. A knock produced no response. Richard pushed open one of the double doors and called out. There was no reply.

"Clive!" Richard called again. "Darby! Erling! Is anyone home?" Old chairs and templates still hung from pegs on the dusty walls, and the cobwebs still hung in all the corners. Upstairs, instead of the aroma of meat pies and boiling turnips, like the last time Richard had been to the Anderson home. there was the heavy stench of death.

In one of the chairs he had made sat Clive Anderson. He was dead. In his arms, he was holding the stiff corpse of his wife.

Richard stood stunned at the sight. Behind, he heard Kahlan let out a mournful cry.

Drefan went to the bedrooms. After a brief look. he returned and shook his head. Richard stood staring at the dead husband and wife. He tried to imagine Clive's misery as he sat there, sick with the plague, holding his dead wife in his arms- his dreams and hopes dead in his arms.

Drefan eased a hand under Richard's arm and pulled him away. "Richard, there's nothing to be done. We'd best go and have a dead-cart sent." Kahlan pressed her face against his shoulder as she wept. He saw the stricken look on the faces of Berdine and Raina. He saw their fingers find one another and curl together-a furtive comforting touch. Nadine glanced away from the rest of them. Richard felt sudden sorrow for her: she was alone among them. Thankfully, Drefan rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. The room droned with painful silence.

Richard held Kahlan to him as they went down the stairs. The others followed behind. When they reached the workshop, he took a breath, at last. The stench upstairs had nearly gagged him.