Temple of the Winds

"Sure. I guess that was stupid of me to think you stopped him because. ." Richard realized by the way she sounded on the verge of tears that he hadn't put it very well, so he laid a hand tenderly on her shoulder. "Nadine, you've grown into a beautiful woman, too."

She peered up with a growing smile, "You think I'm beautiful?" She smoothed her blue dress at her hips.

"I didn't dance with you at the midsummer festival because you were still clumsy little Nadine Brighton."

She started winding the string again, 'I liked dancing with you. You know, I carved the initials 'N.C. on my betrothal trunk. For Nadine Cypher." "I'm sorry. Nadine. Michael is dead."

She looked up with a frown. "Michael? No. . that's not what it meant. It meant you."

Richard decided that this conversation had gone far enough. He had more important things to worry about.

"I'm Richard Rahl now. I can't live in the past. My future is with Kahlan." Nadine caught his arm as he started turning away. "I'm sorry. I know that. I know I made a big mistake. With Michael, I mean."

Richard caught himself just in time to bite off a caustic retort. What would be the purpose? "I appreciate that you helped Kahlan. I suppose you'll want to be heading home. Tell everyone I'm well. I'll be back for a visit when-" "Kahlan invited me to stay a while."

Richard was caught off guard; Kahlan had neglected to tell him that part of it. "Oh. And you wish to stay for a day or two?"

"Sure. I thought I'd like that. I've never been away from home before. If it's all right with you, I mean. I wouldn't wan to. ."

Richard gently pulled his arm from her hand. "Fine. If she invited you, then it's fine with me."

She brightened, as if oblivious to the disapproval on his face. "Richard, did you see the moon last night? Everyone is abuzz about it. Did you see it? Was it as extraordinary, as remarkable, as they say? ' "That, and more," he whispered, his mood darkening. Before she could get in another word, he marched off.

His soft knock on the door produced a rotund woman in a staff uniform. Her ruddy face peered out through the narrow crack.

"Lord Rahl. Nancy is just helping the Mother Confessor get dressed. She'll be finished in a minute."

"Dressed!" he called to the closing door. The latch clicked into place. "She's supposed to be in bed!" he called through the heavy, ornately carved door.

Getting no response, he decided to wait rather than cause a scene. Once, when he looked up, he saw Nadine peeking around the corner. Her head swiftly disappeared back around the corner. He paced before the door until the rubicund woman finally opened it wide and held an arm out in invitation.

Richard stepped into the room, feeling as if he was entering another world. The Confessors' Palace was a place of splendor, power, and history, but the Mother Confessor's quarters were the place that, more than anywhere else in the palace, reminded him that he was really just a woods guide. It made him feel out of his element.

The Mother Confessor's rooms were a majestic, quiet sanctuary befitting the woman to whom knelt kings and queens. If Richard had seen this room before he came to know Kahlan, he wondered if he would have ever had the nerve to speak to her. Even now, it embarrassed him to recall teaching her to build snares and dig roots when he didn't know who, or what, she was.

It made him smile, though, to remember her eagerness to learn. He was thankful he had come to know the woman before he came to understand the post she filled, and the magic she wielded. He thanked the good spirits she had come into his life, and prayed she would be a part of it forever. She meant everything to him.

The three marble fireplaces in the Mother Confessor's sitting room were ablaze. The heavy drapes on the ten-foot-tall windows hung open slightly, forming tall slits, letting in only enough light, muted by the sheer panels behind, to make lamps unnecessary. He guessed that bright sunlight was inappropriate in a sanctuary. There were only a few houses in Hartland that wouldn't fit in this room alone.

On a glossy, gold-embellished mahogany table to the side sat a silver tray with tea, soup, biscuits, sliced pears, and brown bread. None of it had been touched. The sight reminded him that he hadn't eaten since noon the day before, but failed to summon his appetite.

The three women in crisp gray dresses with white lace collars and cuffs watched him expectantly, as if waiting to see if he would dare to simply walk in on the Mother Confessor, or fall into a show of some other scandalous behavior.

Richard glanced at the door at the far end of the room, his sense of propriety making him ask the obvious. "Is she dressed?"

The one who had cracked the door before reddened. "I wouldn't have let you in, sir, had she not been."

"Of course." He headed soundlessly across the plush, dark-hued carpets. He stopped and turned back. They watched like three owls. "Thank you, ladies. That will be all."