Temple of the Winds

When they had passed out of earshot of a squad of soldiers guarding an intersection with two stairwells, and before they reached the turn that would take them to the pit hall that would be crowded with all the soldiers she had stationed there, Kahlan glanced over. Cara was an attractive woman, but a woman with an air of menace about her as she swept the empty hall with vigilant gazes. "Cara, can I ask you a personal question?

Cara clasped her hands behind her back as she strode along. "You are a sister of the Agiel. Ask."

"Before, you told me that hesitation can be the end of you, or those you care about. You were talking about yourself, weren't you?"

Cara slowed to a stop. Even in the hissing torchlight, Kahlan could see that her face had paled.

"Now that is truly a personal question."

"You don't have to tell me. I don't mean it to sound like an order, or anything. I was just wondering, woman to woman. You know so much about me, and I hardly know anything about you, except that you are Mord-Sith."

"I wasn't always Mord-Sith," Cara whispered. Her eyes had lost the menace, and she looked like nothing so much a" a frightened little girl. Kahlan could tell that Cara was no longer seeing the empty stone hall.

"I guess that there is no reason not to tell you. As you said, I am not to blame for what was done to me. Others were responsible.

"Every year, in D'Hara, they would select a few girls to be trained as Mord-Sith. It is said that the greatest cruelty is. drawn from those with the kindest hearts. Rewards were paid for the names of gills who fit the requirements. I was an only child, one of the requirements, and of tie right age. The girl, and her parents, are taken, the parents to be murdered in the training of a Mord-Sith. My parents didn't know that our names had been sold to I he hunters."

Cara's face and tone had lost their emotion. She had gone blank, as if she were telling of last year's beet harvest. But her words, if not her tone, carried more than enough emotion.

"My father and I were out back of the house, butchering chickens. When they came, I had no idea what it meant. My father did. He saw them coming down the hill, through the trees. He surprised them. But there were more than he had seen, or could handle, and he had the advantage for only a few moments.

"He screamed at me, 'Cari, the knife! Cari, get the knife! I snatched it up because he said to. He was holding three of the men. My father was big. "He screamed again. 'Cari, stab them! Stab them! Hurry! " Cara looked into Kahlan's eyes. "I just stood there. I hesitated. I didn't want to stab someone. To hurt someone. I just stood there. I couldn't even kill the chickens. He did that part."

Kahlan didn't know if Cara was going to go on. In the dead silence, she decided that if she didn't, the questions would end there. Cara looked away from Kahlan's eyes, staring off into the visions, and then she did go on.

"Someone walked up beside me. I'll never forget it as long as I live. I looked up, and there was this woman, this beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, with blue eyes and blond hair in a long braid. The sunlight coming through the leaves danced in little patches across her red leather outfit.

"She smiled down at me as she took the knife out of my hand. Not a pretty smile, but a smile like a snake. That's what I always called her, in my mind, after that-Snake. When she straightened, she said, 'Isn't that sweet? Little Cari doesn't want to hurt anyone with her knife. That hesitation just made you a Mord-Sith, Cara. It begins. »

Cara stood rigid, as if turned to stone. "They kept me in a little room, with little grates in the bottom of the door. I couldn't get out. But the rats could get in. At night, when I finally could stay awake no longer, and fell asleep, the rats would sneak into my empty little room and bite my fingertips, and my toes. 'Snake beat me nearly to death for blocking the grate. Rats like blood. It excites them. "I learned to sleep in a ball, with my hands in fists and tucked in against my belly, where they couldn't get at my fingers. But they could usually get at my toes. I tried taking my shirt off and wrapping it around my bare feet, but then if I didn't sleep on my stomach, they would bite my nipples. Laying bare-chested on the cold stone, with my hands under my stomach, was a torture in itself, but it usually kept me awake longer. If the rats couldn't get a; my toes, they would bite me somewhere else-my ears, or nose, or legs-until I woke with a start and scared them away.

' In the night, I could hear the other girls cry out when a rat bit them awake. I could always hear one of them weeping in the night, calling for her mother. Sometimes, I realized it was my own voice I heard.