Temple of the Winds

The message had been a pretense, and they knew it as well as he. Click, click, click, went his thumbnail. "That will be all. You may go. All of you."

Their postures relaxed, but none made a move to leave. "Leave?" Raina asked. "Aren't you going to punish us?" A smirk spread on her face. 'Maybe clean out the stables for a week, or something?

Richard pushed back from the table as he ground his teeth. He was not in the mood for their impish humor. He rose behind the table. "No, Raina, no punishment. You may go."

The two Mord-Sith smiled. Berdine loaned toward Raina, speaking in a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear. "He realizes that we know best how to protect him." They all started for the door.

"Before you go," Richard said, as he strolled around the table, "I just want you to know one thing." "What's that?" Berdine asked.

Richard walked past them, pausing long enough to look each in the eye. "That I'm disappointed in you."

Raina made a face. "You're disappointed in us? You're not going to yell or punish us, you're simply disappointed?

"That's right. You've disappointed me. I thought I could trust you. I can't." Richard turned away. "Dismissed."

Berdine cleared her throat. "Lord Rahl, Ulic and I went with you by your command."

"Oh? So if it had been you I'd left here to protect Kahlan, instead of Raina, you would have done as I asked and stayed?" She didn't answer. "I've counted on all of you, and you've made me feel a fool for trusting you." He flexed his fists instead of yelling. "I would have seen to Kahlan's protection if I'd known I couldn't trust you."

Richard leaned an arm against the window frame and stared out at the cold spring morning. The four behind him shifted their feet uneasily. "Lord Rahl," Berdine said at last, "we would lay down our lives for you." Richard rounded on them. "And let Kahlan die!" He carefully quieted his tone. "You can lay down your lives for me all you want. Play your games all you want. Pretend you're doing something important. Play at being my guards. Just stay out of my way, and out of the way of people helping me in this effort to stop the Imperial Order."

He flicked his hand toward the door. "Dismissed."

Berdine and Raina shared a look. "We will be outside, in the hall, if you need us, Lord Rahl."

Richard gave them such a cold look that it drained the color from their faces. "I won't be needing you. I don't need people I can't trust." Berdine swallowed. «But-» "But what?"

She swallowed again. "What about Kolo's journal? Don't you want me to help you with the translation?" "I'll manage. Anything else?" Each of them shook their heads.

They began filing out. Raina, at the end of the line, paused and turned back. Her dark eyes fixed on the floor.

"Lord Rahl, will you be taking us out, later, to feed the chipmunks?" "I'm busy. They'll manage just fine without us." "But. . what about Reggie?" "Who?"

"Reggie. He's the one missing the end of his little tail. He… he… sat in my hand. He'll be looking for us."

Richard watched her for a silence-filled eternity. He teetered between wanting to hug her and wanting to yell at her. He had tried the hugging, or its equivalent, anyway, and it had nearly gotten Kahlan killed. "Maybe another day. Dismissed."

She wiped the back of her hand across; her nose. "Yes, Lord Rahl." Raina quietly pulled the door closed behind her. Richard raked back his hair as he flopped down in his chair again. With a finger, he slowly spun Kolo's journal around and around as he ground his teeth. Kahlan could have died while he was off looking for trees. Kahlan could have died while the people he thought were protecting her were instead following their own agenda.

He shuddered to think what the added magic, the added rage, of the sword would do were he to draw it at that moment. He couldn't recall being this angry, without the Sword of Truth in his hand. He couldn't imagine the wrath of the sword's magic on top of this.

The words of the prophecy from the stone wall in the pit ran through his mind with haunting, mocking finality.

A soft knock silenced the hundredth, whispered sound of the prophecy in his head.

This was the knock he had been waiting for. He knew who it was. "Come in, Cara."

The tall, muscular, blond-haired Mord-Sith slunk in through the door. She pushed it closed with her back. Her head was bent, and she looked as miserable as he had ever seen her.

"May I speak with you. Lord Rahl?" "Why are you wearing your red leather?"

She swallowed before answering. "It's a. . Mord-Sith thing. Lord Rahl." He didn't ask for an explanation; he didn't really care. This was the one he had been waiting for. This was the one who was at the core of his wrath. "I see. What do you want?"

Cara approached the table and stood with her shoulders slumped. She had a bandage around her head but he had been told that her head wound wasn't serious. By the red-rimmed look of her eyes, it was obvious that she hadn't slept the night before. "How is the Mother Confessor this morning?"