The knife wound in Kahlan’s chest was closed. It had damaged her lung, but he had started healing it immediately when he first found her. At least he had managed to stop the bleeding right away. Even so, she had lost a lot of blood. Shale finished working on the knife wound and then used her gift to push in air to inflate the lung once more so Kahlan could breathe easier.
The claw marks down her arm were already closed with Shale’s gift, but because they were so deep the sorceress said they would require more structural work. For now she had merely closed them and stopped the bleeding. It was obvious to Richard how methodical the sorceress was in the way she went about her work. Those massive wounds would need the layers of muscles to be properly joined back together one at a time so that full function would be restored to Kahlan’s arm. Shale had also pulled together the gaping flesh across her ribs and closed the wound.
Thankfully, Shale had put Kahlan into a deep sleep so that she wouldn’t feel much of anything as the sorceress went about the work.
Richard now realized that peacetime had lowered his guard. For years he had been used to being continually on alert for any trouble. He had found peacetime a respite. Besides that, a single man had never been any danger to a Confessor of Kahlan’s power before. The reality was that it all had caused him to let down his guard. Shale had been right. He was an idiot. He could not feel more foolish for having it pointed out to him by a stranger. Maybe it was her fresh perspective, but whatever the reason, Shale’s alertness had saved Kahlan’s life.
Even given all that, Shale was also a witch woman, and that concerned him. His familiar state of suspicion was back in full force. He and Kahlan had a long history of trouble caused by witch women.
“You can stay and watch if you like,” Shale said to him as he stood beside the bed staring down at the only woman he had ever loved—the only woman he could ever love. “I don’t mind at all, Lord Rahl, really, and I completely understand if that is your wish. You don’t really know me, so I take no offense at any suspicion you might have.” She almost seemed to be reading his mind. “She is in good hands. I swear. I will let no harm come to her.” With a quick smile, she tipped her head at the Mord-Sith. “Neither will they.”
She was gently reminding him that there was some kind of trouble that had attacked Kahlan and it was his job as Lord Rahl to get to the bottom of it, not stand around twiddling his thumbs, worried about Kahlan while he watched her work.
There were things that only the Lord Rahl could do, and he realized he should get to it before anything else happened.
Richard nodded. “I need to go question the other Estorians. I want to question Nolo, too, but I want Kahlan well and at my side when I do. She used her power on him. If it worked at all, he will answer no one’s questions but hers.”
Shale pushed up her sleeves before going back to work on Kahlan as Richard left to go looking for trouble.
7
At the outer gate to the narrow road that wound its way down around the plateau to the Azrith Plain, Vika was already waiting with two horses. He had absently expected it to be Cara. In the past, it would have always been Cara ready to accompany him. Seeing Vika jolted him out of his thought and worry about Kahlan.
Cara was gone. She had done as she had always sworn she would do. She had given her life to save his. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t miss her.
Now Vika had taken Cara’s place, and with no less resolve. Still, Cara had been more than his protector and friend. He almost always knew what she had been about to say before she said it and what she was going to do before she did it. Kahlan and he had come to love her like family. She was family. Strange as it sometimes seemed, all the Mord-Sith were, even if some of them were still only coming to understand that.
“While you were taking the Mother Confessor to your room I took the liberty of telling the commander of the First File that you would want the other Estorians detained. I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous.”
She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the men of the First File already on horseback, waiting off to the side beside a towering outer wall of the palace.
Vika had done that entirely on her own initiative, without orders, something Mord-Sith had been trained not to do. He couldn’t help smiling. That was what Cara would have done.
“Yes that was presumptuous, Vika. Well done. You go right on being presumptuous.”
As she swung her leg up over the saddle, he saw her smile to herself. It occurred to Richard that she was going to be just fine.
Once in the saddle, Richard rested his hands over the saddle’s horn as he surveyed the sprawling tent city far below. Flags and colorful streamers flew from many a tent. Smoke rose from cook fires. Horses, wagons, and carts moved slowly through the confined spaces crowded with people. It was a festive occasion. Richard had already begun to think of it as a threatening one. He was beginning to wonder if they should cancel the public audience and disband the tent city.
Above them the palace rose up, its towering heights resplendent in a single shaft of late-day sun just peeking through a rare break in the thick layers of clouds. He could see people strolling across bridges between towers or on ramparts or looking out from taller sections. Other people on balconies outside many of the rooms met for conversation while they marveled at the views.
While most of them had never thought it would come, it was peacetime. Everyone seemed relaxed. Everyone seemed in a good mood. Richard, too, had been relaxed. Too relaxed.
As the clouds rolled together, they closed the gap and blocked off the sun. The day grew somber. The threatening sky matched his mood. The bottoms of dark, turbulent clouds lowered, silently drifting by, just beginning to brush the higher parts of the palace.
In the distance, the Azrith Plain vanished in a gloomy haze. On the plain below the plateau, in the muted light, the temporary tent city took on a drab appearance. Somewhere down there were the rest of the Estorians.
With two fingers Richard lifted his sword a few inches in its gold and silver scabbard to make sure it was clear before squeezing his legs against the sides of his horse to start it ahead at an easy trot. The cavalry fell in behind him and Vika.
Richard felt as if peacetime had abruptly come to an end. He was back in a familiar, war-wizard state of mind. As they started out, the breeze lifted his gold cape, a part of a war wizard’s outfit.
Along with the smell of approaching rain, the aromas of cooking reached all the way up to the top of the plateau. The smells made his stomach grumble. He realized he hadn’t had a thing to eat all day.
The ride down the narrow road was the fastest way to get to the Azrith Plain. There were internal passageways through the interior of the massive plateau that could accommodate large forces of troops going down or coming back up, but they were not as fast as the road. As he and Vika galloped along, with a small army behind them, he could see the bridge already being lowered. They didn’t slow.
With a tip of his head, Richard acknowledged the men lined up to the side with fists to their hearts as he and Vika raced by. These men prevented any attack from below ever making it up the road. With the bridge up, there was no way to get up the plateau from the outside. On the inside, the great doors could be closed if necessary to prevent access to the palace from within.
The tent city spread out down on the plain was a congested place filled with the racket of all the people crowded close together. Most people wanted their tents offering services and items for sale to be as close as possible to the opening that went up the inside of the plateau to the palace above. Not everyone wanted to make the long climb up. Most of the assembled crowd simply wanted to be present for the occasion or else to sell things to people who had gathered.