Temple of the Winds

"When I left her, she was resting, but she's going to be fine. Her wounds weren't serious, as serious as they easily could have been. She's lucky to be alive, considering what happened. Considering that she wasn't supposed to have been down there with Marlin in the first place, considering that I specifically told you that I didn't want either of you down there

Cara's eyes closed. "Lord Rahl, it was my fault entirely. I'm the one who talked her into it I wanted to question Marlin. She tried to convince me to stay away, but I went anyway. She only went to try to make me leave him be, as you had instructed."

Had Richard not been so angry, he might have laughed. Even if Kahlan hadn't admitted the truth to him, he knew her well enough to recognize Cara's confession as pure fiction. But he also knew that Cara hadn't put in much of an effort to keep Kahlan away from the assassin.

"I thought that I had control of him. I made a mistake." Richard leaned forward "Didn't I specifically tell you that I didn't want either of you down there?"

Her shoulders trembled as she nodded without looking up. His fist hitting the table made her flinch. "Answer me! Didn't I specifically tell you that I didn't want either of you down there?" "Yes, Lord Rahl»

"Was there any doubt in your mind what I meant?" "No, Lord Rahl»

Richard leaned back in his chair. That was the mistake, Cara. Do you understand? Not that you didn't have control of him- that was beyond your power. Going down there was a choice you made. That was the mistake you made.

''I love Kahlan more than anything in this world, or anything in any other world. Nothing else is so precious to me. I trusted you to protect her, to keep her out of harm's view."

The sunlight coming through the patterned shears played across her red leather in dappled patches like sunlight coming through leaves.

"Lord Rahl," she said in a small voice, "I fully understand the dimensions of my failure, and what it means. "Lord Rahl, may I be granted a request?" "What is it?"

She sank to her knees, bending forward in supplication. She took up her Agiel, holding it in both trembling fists. "May I choose the manner of my execution?" "What?"

''A Mord-Sith wears her red leather at her execution. If she has previously served with honor, she is allowed to choose the manner of execution " "And what would you choose?"

"My Agiel, Lord Rahl I know how I have failed you-I have committed an unforgivable transgression-but I have served with honor in the past. Please Allow it to be with my Agiel It's my only request Either Berdine or Raina can carry it out. They know how»

Richard walked around the table. He leaned back against its edge, looking down at Cara's slumped, quivering form. He folded his arms "Denied»

Her shoulders shuddered with a sob "May I ask what Lord Rahl will choose?"

"Cara, look at me," he said in a soft voice. Her tear-stained face came up. "Cara, I'm angry. But no matter how angry I was, I would never, ever, have you, any of you, executed."

"You must. I have failed you. I have disobeyed your orders to protect your love. I have made an unforgivable mistake."

Richard smiled. "I don't know that there are unforgivable mistakes. There may be unforgivable betrayals, but not mistakes. If we were going to start executing people for mistakes. I'm afraid I'd have been dead long ago. I make mistakes all the time. Some of them have been pretty big."

She shook her head as she gazed into his eyes. "A Mord-Sith knows when she has earned execution. I have earned it." In those blue eyes he saw the iron of her resolution. "Either you carry it out, or I will."

Richard stood for a time, judging the demand of duty to which a Mord-Sith was bound. Judging the madness in those eyes. "Do you wish to die, Cara?"

"No, Lord Rahl. Since you have been our Lord Rahl, never. That is why I must. I have failed you. A Mord-Sith lives and dies by a code of duty to her master. Neither you nor I can alter what must be. My life is forfeit. You must carry out the execution, or I will."

Richard knew that she wasn't making a play for sympathy. Mord-Sith didn't bluff. If he didn't somehow change her mind, she would do as she promised.

With comprehension, and the resulting, sickening realization of his only choice, he made the mental leap off the rim of sanity and into the madness, where dwelt part of this woman's mind and, he feared, part of his. As irretrievable as a heartbeat, the decision had been made. Muscles flexing with the call, he drew his sword. It sent the soft, matchless ring of steel through the room, through his bones.

With that seemingly simple act, the wrath of the sword's magic was loosed. The lock on the door to death was slipped free. It took his breath like a wall of an acid wind. Storms of rage lifted on that biting wind. "Magic, then," he told her, "will be your judge, and executioner." Her eyes squeezed shut. "Look at me!"