Temple of the Winds

The silver face warped into a satisfied smile. She looked down at Drefan's body. "He had no magic, but he was using his talent to stop the flow of blood so that he might live long enough to kill master. It is death to breathe me if you have no magic. I am pleased I could take him on a journey, a journey to the world of the dead." Richard stood on wobbly legs and slipped an arm around Kahlan's waist. "Sliph, you have my gratitude, too. I don't know what it is I could ever do for you, but if it is within my power, it's yours for the asking."

The sliph smiled. "Thank you, master. I would be pleased to have you travel with me. You will be pleased."

Even though he was unsteady on his feet, Richard's eyes had the sparkle back. "Yes, we would like to travel. I need to rest for a time first, to finish recovering and get my strength back, and then we will travel, I promise you."

Kahlan took up Cara's hand. "Are you all right? I mean, are you really all right… everything?"

Cara nodded with a haunted look in her eyes. "I still have the ghosts of the past with me, but I am all right. Thank you, sister, for helping me. It is not often that a Mord-Sith can depend on anyone else for help, but with Richard as Lord Rahl, and you as Mother Confessor, all things seem possible."

Cara glanced to Richard. "When you healed the Mother Confessor, you seemed to glow, as if a spirit was with you." "I believe the good spirits helped me. I do indeed." "I recognized the spirit. It was Raina."

Richard nodded. "It felt like Raina. When I was in the spirit world, Denna told me that Raina was at peace, and knows that we love her." "I think we should tell this to Berdine," Cara said.

Richard slipped his other arm around Cara's waist, and started them all toward the door. "I think we should, too."

CHAPTER 68

Several days later, when Richard was almost fully recovered, Tristan Bashkar's uncle, King Jorin Bashkar, the king of Jara, rode into Aydindril at the head of his company of king's lancers. On the point of each of the hundred lances was a head.

Kahlan watched from a window as the lances, under the watchful eye of D'Haran soldiers, were deployed in an arrow-straight double row along the entrance to the Confessors' Palace. Flags of state flew from poles held by the first opposing pair of Jarian soldiers. Jorin Bashkar, with his star guide Javas Kedar behind him, waited until the lancers were lined up perfectly, their armor gleaming in the sun, before he strode regally, between the row of heads, toward the entrance.

As she peered out the window, Kahlan touched Cara's arm. "Go get Richard. Have him meet me in the council chambers."

Cara was out the door and on her way before Kahlan could turn to be on her way, too.

Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor, sitting in the first chair under the figures of Magda Searus, the first Mother Confessor, and her wizard, Merritt, painted across the expanse of the dome above the council chambers, waited for her wizard.

Her heart lifted when she saw him sweep into the room, golden cloak billowing out behind, dressed in the gold-trimmed black outfit of a war wizard, the gold and ruby amulet on his chest gleaming in the streamers of sunlight through which he strode, his silver wristbands burnished and bright. The Sword of Truth at his hip caught the light, sending out a starburst of sunlight to glitter across the polished marble.

"Good morning, my queen!" he called out, his voice echoing around the huge room. "How do you fare this, your last day of freedom?"

Kahlan rarely laughed in the council chambers. It had always seemed improper. She laughed, now, the lilting sound echoing around the cavernous room, bringing a smile to the guards.

"I fare well. Lord Rahl," she said as he ascended the dais. Cara and Berdine followed in his shadow, along with Ulic and Egan, taking up places to either side.

"What's going on?" he asked, more seriously. "I heard that some king just rode in with a hundred heads on pikes."

"The king of Jara. Remember? You sent him Tristan's head, demanding his surrender?"

"Oh, that king." Richard slid down into a chair beside her. "Whose heads arc they?"

"I guess we're about to find out."

The guards pulled open the double doors. Light stabbed in through the doorway, silhouetting the two figures as they approached.

Once before the dais, the king spread his violet cape, trimmed in spotted white fox, and went to one knee in a deep bow. Behind him, the star guide went to both knees, in his bow. "Rise, my children," Kahlan said in formal response to the bow. "Mother Confessor," King Jorin said, "how good to see you again." His trim figure, his graying hair meticulously cut so that it swept back as if he were facing the wind. his elegant scabbard and sword, his ribbons, his sash, his red and blue and gold-embroidered coat, and his jeweled pins, made him look one of the most grand of kings. Kahlan had always thought.