Cara hated birds. She'd been able to compile an exhaustive list of things she hated since she left the Mord'Sith temple, seemingly forever, and although some of those selections were made prematurely (Kahlan was not a hatred, merely an annoyance who was surprisingly useful), joining the Seeker had definitely broadened her horizons, hate-wise.

Birds, she hated because they sung in the morning and she usually slept outside, so the one thing she could consistently associate with the separation from well-deserved sleep and another day of helping the pathetic whelps of mankind and trodding the minefield of her comrades' emotional dynamics (not to mention the more routine difficulties such as monsters, banelings, and D'Haran soldiers who just could not take a hint), was birds. Singing. And shoot just one of the little ball of feathers with an arrow and everyone looked at her weird the rest of the day. Not that she minded fear, it was healthy, but Kahlan just had this look…

The thing was, today the birds weren't annoying her. They were insistent on singing, yes, but not directly in her ear. It had something to do with the window between her and her arch-nemesis, but also with the wall there. She was inside.

Cara was mostly sure she'd gone to sleep outside, as per tradition, but now she was in a bed. Sturdy. Well-made. That was all she had time to ascertain as she rolled off it. Her leathers were gone. So were her Agiels.

Grabbing a chair, Cara rapidly demolished it for its legs, which would make serviceable bludgeons. It was only after she was armed that she noticed what she was wearing. They were some sort of nightclothes; she had seen the Queen of Marlina wearing one when she and her sisters took the palace during the night. It was a wisp of a thing, probably not enough to make more than four bandages if the wounds were severe. Cara kept it on anyway. Attacking in the nude had its advantages, but then there was Kahlan's look to think about, and the chance that maybe she had gone to sleep in the bed of some grateful townsperson. Or that she'd given them something to be grateful about.

If she had, then the broken chair would make them just about even. Men had suffered worse for a night with her.

Being as stealthy as possible in the morning light, in a white nightgown, with the hated birds chirping, Cara prowled out of the bedroom and into the hallway. It was made from the same timber as the previous room and the bed, with the kind of solid workmanship she recognized from the homes of nobles and minor lords. She was in a manor of some sort, with carpets on the floor and paintings on the wall.

Hearing voices, Cara turned in the opposite direction and padded around the corner. She tried to listen for what they were saying, but then came footsteps from the opposite direction. Finding a window, Cara pushed the panes of glass open and slipped outside. Glass. Definitely a manor. At least she wasn't being held prisoner by a beggar.

Then she heard Kahlan's voice.

She would justify it later by thinking that Kahlan could lead her to the Lord Rahl, but all the justification in the world wouldn't dispel the memory of her first two reactions. First, to safeguard Kahlan against whoever it was that had separated her from her Agiels. And second, to have some sense made of this disorienting new world.

She stalked around the house until she saw Kahlan, crouching in a patch of dirt amidst the flowers and vines of the garden in back of the house. The Confessor held a walking stick, and was using it to scratch letters into the ground. And she wore a dress that could've belonged to a peasant, rough-knit fabrics and a kerchief tied to keep her hair out of her face. Cara almost didn't recognize her, but the bearing of the Mother Confessor was unmistakable.

After a quick look around for signs of a trap, Cara stopped resisting the urge to go to her. She leapt the fence and hurried to Kahlan's side.

"Mother Confessor," she said in greeting, once again not knowing what more to say and so leaving it at that.

Kahlan looked up at her and her mouth smiled and her eyes were lit from within in a reaction that was entirely improper to a Mord'Sith. "Cara! You're feeling better!" She looked down. "And you're standing in my lesson."

Cara looked down at the letters she was standing on. Was this meant to be a punishment for Kahlan? No one was allowed to discipline the mate of the Lord Rahl, save the Lord Rahl himself, and Cara would kill a second Lord Rahl before she ever allowed Richard to entertain the idea. Then a rustle came from inside the house, many floorboards creaking, raised voices, a cacophony of motion. Gripping her cudgels tightly, Cara placed herself between the approaching threat and Kahlan.

And a gaggle of children burst through the door, dueling with sticks, throwing bags of dirt back and forth, and generally being childish.

"Children, Cara's feeling better!" Kahlan announced with a smile.

A cheer went up and then Cara was swarmed so hard she was borne to the ground. She would've defended herself, but this was a situation where Kahlan definitely would've given her a look.

Half an hour later, when Kahlan had managed to extricate Cara from the pile of children trying to hug her at once (or braid her hair, it got confusing) and started the children on copying the letters she had inscribed on the ground, Kahlan brought Cara back inside and showed her to a dresser. Cara found a simple pair of breeches and a shirt which she hurriedly changed into.

"You could wear one of my dresses, if you like?" Kahlan volunteered.

Cara gave Kahlan her own look, then tightened the stitches on her shirt. "Do you know where my Agiels are?"

"Your what?"

"A weapon," Cara replied, exasperated.

"You keep your tools in the backroom. Cara, are you sure you're feeling alright? Maybe you should lie back down."

Cara was already on her way down the halls. They seemed familiar, like she'd dreamed about them. Of the three doors in the back of the house, her first try netted her a room full of blacksmith tools. Cara looked past the hammers and bellows to find a work-knife in a leather sheath, which she hung off her belt. It comforted her considerably.

"Now." She turned to Kahlan, who was mustering her concern in the doorway. "Where's Richard?"

"Richard Cypher?" Kahlan asked, confused.

"Yes. Richard Cypher, or Richard Rahl, or the Seeker of Truth, or the Caharin, or whatever he's calling himself this week."

"I imagine he's at the marketplace. Why?"

Cara gritted her teeth. "I don't know, I suppose I thought it'd be fun to keep him from being killed by anything today."

"You think he's in danger?" Kahlan was shocked.

"I haven't seen him for an hour, so most likely." Cara picked up a smithy hammer, which had the virtue of being very heavy. "Would you take me to him?"

"Of course," Kahlan replied, and led Cara out the door.

The more they passed through it, the more familiar the village looked. It was almost an exact duplicate of the one where Cara's sister lived, except for the manor they had been in. A sign marked it as a school, and the other side of the sign had an anvil on it. Cara supposed a blacksmith lived there as well.

Walking fast, they passed through the outlying homes (to a truly vexing chorus of people wishing her good morning, by name, and inquiring about her health, to which Kahlan could only shrug hopefully) and arrived in a bustling marketplace, which was also new. It had nothing on the markets of Aydindril or the one outside the People's Palace, but it seemed prosperous enough.

"Cara!" one man said, quickly breaking from his haggling to walk alongside her. "It's good to see you up and about! When do you think you'll have my saddle ready?"

Kahlan stepped between them. "I'm not sure it's best for Cara to return to work just yet. She's feeling a little…"

Cara almost pushed Kahlan aside. "Have you seen Richard Cypher?"

The man was taken aback. "Yes, he's over there, his usual spot." And he pointed.

Cara went that way, Kahlan following, the man staying behind and muttering something about relationship troubles.

The stall he'd pointed to was in the midst of a small crowd. As Cara approached, one of the peasants broke away from it, chewing on a rabbit which still sizzled from its cooking fire.

"Come one, come all, eat a hearty breakfast for a hearty day!" an earnest, if cracking, voice cajoled. "Buy a rabbit-on-a-stick, freshly caught this morning! Don't let rabbit fat ruin your sensitive hands! Buy your rabbit on a stick!"

Cara pushed through the crowd, Kahlan apologizing behind her. The stall had a dozen rabbits left, rotating over a pit of coals. Zedd was there, stirring the spit. And a gawky boy of fourteen, scruffy hair dotting his face and overflowing from his scalp, exchanged coins for meat. He was familiar too.

"Richard Cypher?" Cara asked slowly. She may have forgotten a few things, but she wouldn't have forgotten the Lord Rahl being… shrunk.

"Cara!" He signaled to Zedd to take over the exchange and then hopped the counter to embrace her. The lad managed to fit the entire school's exuberance into his lank frame. "I thought you'd never get better! I gathered you some flowers! Did you like them?"

"They were very pretty," Kahlan assured him, somehow finding the death-grip he had on Cara amusing. "They're beside her bed right now. Where we should be," she added, taking Cara's arm, which thankfully separated her from Richard.

"Still getting over your fever, huh?" Richard nodded in sympathy. "You know what's great for fever? Rabbit-on-a-stick."

"Not now, Richard." Kahlan gave Cara's arm a firm tug, but the Mord'Sith was immovable.

"Half-off for a friend!"

"You," Cara announced coolly, her eyes slits, "are not the Lord Rahl."

"Well… I might be." He fidgeted. "What's a Lord Rahl?"

"The lord and ruler of D'Hara, master of all he surveys, war wizard, beloved of the Mother Confessor…"

"I have customers," Richard interrupted. He ran back around the stall to give the spit a spin before the rabbits could burn. "And I don't know where D'Hara is, but here in the Midlands, we pay homage to Queen Dennee."

"Though she should pay homage to us, the taxes we pay," Zedd groused.

"Gramps!" Richard was more than a little aghast. "If it weren't for the taxes, who would build the roads? And if it weren't for the roads, how would people get here to the market? And if it weren't for the market, where would I sell these rabbits? On sticks?"

While this was going on, Cara was conferring with Kahlan. "Dennee? Your sister?"

"Cara," Kahlan admonished. She picked at Cara's clothes. "I know we live comfortably, but I hardly think we count as royalty."

Of all the things that didn't make sense, Cara fixated on one like an eagle on a field mouse. "If Dennee were your sister, how would that make me royalty?"

"Well, I don't know how they do it in 'H'Dara', but here, being married to the sister of the queen would definitely count as royalty."

It was then Cara noticed the band of gold wrapped around her ring finger, matched by the one Kahlan wore on hers.

So it was that Cara's mind decided it had had quite enough of this nonsense, and the Mord'Sith blacked out.

"She should've had a rabbit-on-a-stick," Richard opined.