Chapter 10

Modest and Maidenly Airs

It would be a clothed day in the Underworld when Cara rode a horse again, this was a decision that had been made about three days into their journey back from the Old World. At this point Cara would rather run to Rothenberg than to ride atop a stinking, tall beast. Although she had made a show of teasing Ask weeks earlier about their saddle sores, it was clear that she had spoken from experience, as her backside was completely sore from riding. On top of the uncomfortable ride, the Imperial Order spoke in a language which Cara strained to understand, for there were crumbs of D'Haran and Keltish amidst their words, but not enough to make sense of their endless drivel to one another. They could have been talking about slicing her throat in the night and she would know nothing of it, and that lack of awareness was what kept Cara up in the small hours of the morning.

Cara's eyelids grew heavier with each passing hour. The pace which Jagang had set was breakneck but for good reason; they had wasted time enough trotting all across the world to gain allies, and now they were spending more precious daylight looking for some wizards and sorceresses who were foolish enough to be captured by Rahl. Cara could only hope that the Imperial Order would be enough.

There was the soft squish and gentle exhale of moss beneath her boots as Kahlan dismounted her horse. The Imperial Order horde ceased their movement in suit as they waited expectantly for the Mother Confessor to give an order. Instead, Kahlan bent down and stared out into the distance, making no signal or call to the restless army.

"Do you need to stop and rest?" Cara asked half-heartedly, lifting an eyebrow in concern.

Kahlan rolled her eyes. "Is that your way of saying you need to stop and rest?"

"No. But you're slowing us—" Cara stopped herself. The distinct thud of a wagon wheel falling into a rut came from down the road. Kahlan turned back and tilted her head to the side, as if to silently acknowledge her victory over Cara. Ever the combatant, even with Kahlan, the Mord-Sith declined the challenge and spurred her horse forward with a kick to the belly.

"Where is she going?" Jagang grumbled from his horse, having found his way back to the middle of the horde where Kahlan and Cara had been. "That's the other way."

"Someone else is in these woods and not one of your soldiers stopped to tell you so. I would trust Cara if I were you, Emperor," Kahlan said evenly, quickly pulling herself up onto her white steed and bidding it forward in the direction Cara had left. Sighing, Jagang lifted a fist into the air— a signal to his army to take a short break where they stood. Ask approached from near the back of the army, on foot, and when they came to inquire about the cease in movement Jagang let out a hearty laugh.

"Go on, little duckling. Follow, follow," the Dream Walker smirked. Ask had to bite their tongue as they ran in Kahlan's direction, not wishing to cause a fight without Cara beside them. They ran as quickly as their long legs could carry them, pushing off the flat stones which littered the path and gaining more speed. Their heart beat feverishly in their chest as they moved closer and closer to what they were sure was danger. Kahlan and Cara could be comically tied up on a spit roast over a fire, or perhaps they had been caught in a net and strung up in the trees. Although Ask was sure that Cara would not let any of this happen, it was eerie to him that he had not reached any peril yet.

There was a clearing to the side of the road and a cluster of folk, all ragged and tired and carrying very little with them. The wagon, which Cara had heard moments before, was stuck in a muddy rut in the road. Cara was at the back of it with her shoulder pressed into the corner and pushing as hard as she could. Kahlan was on the other end with rope tied to the front, pulling just as hard. Ask hurried to the back of the wagon to lend Cara their strength, the two of them able to push the cart forward just enough for an opportunity.

"Pull, Kahlan!" shouted Cara. Kahlan yanked on the rope with all her might, letting it dig into the palms of her hands and make cuts there. The wagon completely dislodged from its trap in the mud and rolled forward, the lack of resistance catching Kahlan off guard and before she knew it, she was lying back in the mud herself. She let out a laugh, a good laugh that bellowed into the sky, for the first time in weeks. Away from Jagang and the leering eyes of his army, Kahlan felt as though she could breathe.

"Let me help you," said a young woman with long, red hair. She held out a hand for Kahlan to take, which Kahlan accepted without question. As she pulled Kahlan up to her feet, the Confessor smiled and held the woman's hand in both of hers. "You took quite a fall, but you wriggled the wagon loose. We can't thank you enough."

"It was all Cara, really. She was the one who ran to your aid," Kahlan smiled, pointing to Cara who was busy kicking large globs of mud off her boots. A flash of recognition changed the woman's expression from kind to skeptical. "Are you all right?"

"Cara? It can't be you," the woman called out, to which Cara snapped up her head and glared. The same flash crossed her face and she walked toward Kahlan and the mysterious woman.

"It is." Cara tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for more. "How do you know me?"

The woman smiled and took her long, red hair in between her hands, separating it into three even sections as she twisted it into a rope. Cara felt her heart drop into the bottom of her chest as it was weighed down by the abrupt force of the memory she had long buried.

Cara could smell the mud in her nose and the way their hands pressed her down as they sawed off every inch of the braid she had earned with such violence and giving up of her body. Rage rattled her bones and boiled in her blood, it swept her up so furiously that she took no time in falling into a dead run and tackling the flame-haired woman, victoriously taking a fistful of her hair, and slamming her face into the thick mud below.

"Cara!" Kahlan shouted, it had all happened too fast for her to react until it was already done. It took herself and Ask to pry Cara off of the woman, by then she was heaving with the effort and unable to look anyone in the eye. Wild and raving, Cara spat on the ground and muttered something in D'Haran, something Kahlan could not quite make out. The red-haired woman gasped for air once she was released, her throat croaking out something to Cara in kind.

"She's the one who betrayed me," Cara shouted in a voice Kahlan had never heard, a voice that sounded like pain from a life long passed. "She's the one who cut my braid."

The woman stood up on her own now that the other refugees were suddenly unwilling to help her. She was marked by whispers and murmurs of a haunted past, the words Mord-Sith flying from mouths and striking panic into the ragged group.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Cara. It was a different life," the woman said, brushing wads of mud from the front of her pale yellow dress. "You've removed your leathers too. And no agiel, either? You've moved on, just as I have."

"I am Mord-Sith still," Cara hissed, trying desperately to break from the hold that Kahlan and Ask had her in. Kahlan wished she could pull the anger from her like sucking poison from a snakebite, but she knew that this rage had lived and would live inside Cara until she vanquished it once and for all. Now, seemingly, was not the time for amendments.

Rayla rolled her eyes and took a step closer to Cara, forcing the blonde Mord-Sith to attempt to hurl herself forward to no avail. "You couldn't handle the braid, and you knew it. Your hourglass was running out of sand the moment Lord Rahl died. If it wasn't us, then it would have been the other girls. And look at you now… holier than thou, perfectly well off. And I think the short cut looks darling on you."

Cara weighed her options. Then she did it again. Finally, with all of her thoughts in order and the rage emptied from her belly, she spoke simply.

"I was never one for the braid. I didn't think you were, either."

"The order of the Mord-Sith is dead. Let it be still so it may stay dead," the woman murmured, her voice soft yet arresting. There was a stillness to this woman, like the placid surface of a lake on a cool morning, that held the attention and awe of everyone around her. Cara even stopped struggling for a moment, and when she looked to Ask and then Kahlan with calm, even eyes, they knew they had to let her go. It was up to Cara to make the right choice.

Cara steadied herself, rolled her shoulders back, and let the power she knew she possessed flow back into her. It slowly filled her up with the intelligence that sometimes, a hand made into a fist was more of a threat than the punch. "Let it die in the holiest of fashions. We're different women now, Rayla."

"It's good to see you, Cara. You could always be relied upon in war times."

"So it is," Cara said plainly. "I won't hit you again, I've already put you into the mud."

"I so wish you would do it again. You're much stronger now than I remember you then," Rayla smirked, and Kahlan caged the urge to step in. It was Mord-Sith banter, nothing more.

It was no more than a half hour later that they were breaking bread. Jagang had reluctantly released a bit of their rations with the understanding that they were less than a day's ride from Rothenberg and that a moment of respite could be spared. It was not much, but each refugee was able to put at least two or three bites of bread in their mouths. The glares coming Rayla and Cara's way had lessened, for now.

"We are headed to Rothenburg Castle," Cara said, watching as Rayla devoured her ration of hard bread in a single mouthful. "Some of our most magical allies have been captured there, and we're going to release them."

Rayla scoffed as she brushed the crumbs from her hands. "What's your plan, have these desert mongrels scratch and claw at the gates? They don't even have proper armor, they'll be riddled with arrows before the battle even begins."

"The Imperial Order is a much more skilled army than you think," Kahlan interjected. "We've received word from our scouts that we outnumber them three quarters to one. There's no way we'll lose enough soldiers to truly damage our numbers."

"You have shit scouts, then."

Kahlan raised an eyebrow and Cara straightened her back. They both looked at each other, one knowing far more than the other. "What does she mean?"

"I mean what I said: you have shit scouts whose knowledge about D'Harans could fit in the hat of an acorn," Rayla told them with a shake of her head. "Lord Rahl doesn't care for prisoners that he can't break with Mord-Sith. He wants zero resistance, total submission, that is what will pull him back into the good graces of the Keeper. If a captain sees us banging at the gates—"

"They'll slaughter the sorcerers," Cara replied, earning a nod from Rayla. "Better to execute them than to potentially allow them on our side."

"So we need to be careful, then," Kahlan sighed, running a worried hand through her dark hair. It seemed that at every juncture there was another rock in their way. "There is only one way into the castle, and that's through the front gates. We'll run into the same problem trying to sneak in. And we can't use any magic once we're inside. Ask and I will be unable to use our magic to help."

"We could dig a tunnel," Cara said, to which Rayla, Ask, and Kahlan gave the same, incredulous look. "What other option do we have?"

"I have an idea," Ask said, getting up from their cross-legged seat on the ground. "Give me ten minutes."

As she yanked up the low-cut corset which barely fit her ample breasts, Cara fervently wished that she had killed Ask long ago, in Westland, when no one would have found their body.

"Cara, you're meant to be a courtesan, not a widow. You have to at least pretend to be merry," Ask said from behind Cara as they trotted their horse across the long, stone bridge to Rothenburg Castle. They reached forward and patted Cara on her bare thigh, the bell on the top of their hat tinkling softly. "Come on, give me a smile. Just one."

"It would make me smile to use your entrails as reins for this horse."

"You're such a kind soul, Cara."

"How did you even get such things? We only left you alone for a moment," Cara grumbled.

"It pays to be gentle. And to grin."

"Focus, there are eyes all around us," Kahlan hissed from her steed. She too was unlike herself, with her traveling clothes on and her hair tied up into a neat bun. Her long hair was her Confessor's crown, and if she was to act like an ordinary woman she had to try her best to blend in as much as possible. Any false moves and they would all be killed.

"Halt!" a large soldier bellowed, stepping forward and putting a hand on the sword at his hip. His dark green cloak swayed from side to side behind him, and his silver armor caught a glint of the early afternoon light.

"We come on request of the Margrave," Kahlan told him calmly, pulling her horse to a stop and staring down at the soldier. "We are the entertainment."

"Entertainment?" the soldier said, looking suspiciously between the three charlatans. His gaze halted on Cara's chest, which did not escape her. She would save him for last. "A whore, an idiot, and… a school teacher?"

"A courtesan, a jester, and a knife-thrower," Kahlan corrected him smugly. She dropped a large, black bag at his feet that clattered as it hit the stones below. "We've traveled all the way from Kelton to be here, we're very tired, so if you wouldn't mind—"

"Such a mouth on you for a knife-thrower," the soldier scoffed, looking down at the bag and giving it an inspecting kick. "Do you really think I'm going to let you in here with all this?"

"We come all together, will all of our equipment, or not at all," Cara said in a low, slow tone, savoring every word she so desperately craved to spit out instead. She let her eyes slip down to meet the soldier's codpiece before leaning forward on her horse ever so slightly. Cara made sure to roll her lips together before her eyes locked with his. "You wouldn't want to keep the Margrave waiting, would you? He's an incredibly hungry man, so we've been told. And it's almost time for lunch."

"I-I can't just let you—"

"All, or nothing," Cara repeated. "I'm sure he can spare the gatekeeper. You can't be sure you can trust all your men, especially in war times. Especially men who think they know what's best for your cock."

Kahlan froze with her eyes locked on Cara as the fear of being found out gripped her throat. The soldier swallowed his hesitation, picked up the bulky bag, and handed it up to Kahlan on her horse. She took it with a confident smile that was only there because she was happy to be alive and pass through to the castle unharmed. The Confessor could feel a heavy weight on her as soon as she ducked under the stone arch of the castle walls. It was a tight, terrible sensation that she knew she would not be able to shake until they left. Kahlan turned to look behind her to see that Ask was visibly uneasy too.

The castle showed its age from the squared towers that stood tall against the sky. It was indeed a place from much older times, complete with a vantage point for soldiers to shoot down dragons from the sky. There has not been a dragon in the Three Territories in over 700 years, the wood of the giant crossbow weathered and gray as if to prove her point. Ask held tight to their jester hat as their head lifted higher and higher in an attempt to drink in all of the sights of the Rothenburg Castle before they were covered in shadow by the tunnel above.

"Let's try to stay together as much as we can," Cara whispered to her companions. "If they get us alone, it could be our end. And Kahlan is the only one with weapons."

"We've been through much more risk than this," Kahlan challenged with a small smirk, her eyes taking an indulgent dip down to Cara's exposed breasts. "We can do this. We have to."

"It's all up to us," Ask nodded, squeezing Cara's shoulders so that she might relax. "Eyes on us, now. Remember the rules I told you once we get to the Margrave."

The dark, torchlit tunnel opened into what appeared to be part of the castle. They found themselves in a wooden room with stalls meant for horses, some of which had already been boarded. Cara's eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for a red-robed horse and finding none. Although Lord Rahl usually teleported for ease of journey and the overall alacrity of such a trick, his magic was completely useless here. With no clear sign of his presence, at least at that moment, Cara's physicality visibly softened.

"Welcome to Rothenburg Castle," a young stablegirl called out, her hands already reaching up to help Cara off her horse first. Cara looked down at the hand with a look that made the stablegirl believe she had not offered assistance but instead had driven an ax straight through Cara's leg. Before Cara could hop off the horse on her own Kahlan cleared her throat loudly, then locked eyes with the Mord-Sith.

"Thank you," Cara mustered. She reminded herself that she had to appear as non-threatening as possible, even if that meant doing what she despised most in this world; accepting help from strangers who were certainly far weaker than she. In an attempt to salvage the interaction and their charade, Cara squeezed the stablegirl's hand and let the young woman help her off the grey. Ask took her hand too, making a show of stumbling off the horse and letting the bell atop his floppy hat jingle as the stablegirl giggled. Cara bit back the acerbant gripe that Ask made a natural jester. However embarrassing it was, she had to admit that there was something about his willingness to be silly that somehow doubled back into an attractive confidence.

"Follow those steps, they'll lead you to where you need to be," the girl told them after stowing their horses in the stable. Kahlan smiled and thanked her, pressing a single, silver coin into her palm. It was worth nearly half of the money they had, and Ask had to stop themselves from gasping. The girl shook her head and tried to return it. "I can't carry coin, milady."

"Why not?" Kahlan asked, smiling again to assure the girl that taking the gift was acceptable. "A kindness for a job well done."

"Women are forbidden to carry coin, it's against the Laws of Right and Good," the girl said, her tone easy and rehearsed. "Up the stairs with you, before you get me into trouble."

Kahlan nodded, taking the coin from her and holding it in her fist before looking at the girl, then at the soldier who had appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs. She turned to walk in his direction, but not before dropping the silver coin into the hay-littered floor below. As the three companions ascended the stairs, the stablegirl waited until the soldier had followed them and shut the door before dropping to her knees, scooping up the hammered piece of silver, and kissing it.

Cara tripped over her long, pink skirt more than she would have liked to as they followed their guide down a long, carpeted hallway. It was only wide enough to walk shoulder to shoulder with one other person, so Ask had taken the helm while Kahlan and Cara stayed beside each other.

"Bundle the front up in your hand," Kahlan spoke in a low tone. "Right up against your thigh."

"Why would I make your job easier?"

Kahlan looked at her with a curled grin, already bemused with what she was about to say before the words even left her lips. "You never make my job easier."

Cara smirked in the low light of the passing torches even though she wished to rip this disgusting dress off and strangle Ask and Kahlan with it. It was secretly lifting her spirits to see Kahlan having a bit of fun in these troubling times, even if such revelry came at Cara's expense.

"Your guests have arrived, Margrave," called the soldier who had since opened an ostentatious double door to an even more luxurious room. The furs, the long, red carpet, the wooden throne with its carved bears on the backrest, it all recalled older times just as the dragon-slaying equipment had. Upon the throne was a man that Kahlan would not consider noble in the slightest.

The Margrave of Rothenburg was a drunk, this much was certain from a single glace. He slouched in his seat, his eyes bleary, the shades drawn in every window to make the throne room dark. It was difficult to see how old the Margrave was, but Kahlan guessed from the streak of gray in his hair when he tilted his head closer to the candlelight that he was far too old to be looking Cara up and down as he did.

"Who are these… people, Edyl?" the Margrave asked, pursing his lips and taking another, long look at Cara. The soldier was visibly shaken now as sweat dripped down his chin and his entire face turned apple red. The Margrave's eyes narrowed at Edyl's silence. "Has your tongue been cut out, or do you forget where you are? Who are these people?"

"Th-this is—"

"Forgive us for not introducing ourselves, my lord," Ask stepped in, bowing so low that his hat touched the floor. "We are your gift from Lord Rahl for holding the prisoners here at Rothenburg Castle."

The Margrave's eyes scraped over Ask, over Kahlan, and the longer he waited to speak the more nervous Kahlan became. They had no magic at their side, and although Kahlan was confident in both hers and Cara's martial combat abilities, that would do Shota and the rest no good. The thin-lipped smile he offered her gave no solace, but his words did.

"An… interesting gift. Never would have imagined that Lord Rahl would send… such treasures," the Margrave mumbled, and if she weren't directly in his presence Kahlan would have breathed a long sigh of relief. Ask felt it too, straightening up to stand tall in front of the Margrave, awaiting whatever orders he had for them. "Edyl, see to the whore and the… strict looking one's quarters. The fool stays here with me. I will admit that I have a particular fondness for fools, my father's jester was quite the juggler."

Kahlan almost reached for Ask in concern but kept her hands to herself. This was part of the ruse, they must be willing to do the Margrave's bidding. It was all in the best interest of the magic wielders that were being held in the dungeon below the throne room.

"Thank you, Margrave. We will see you soon, hopefully more entertaining next time," Kahlan nodded. As she turned to leave, she reached out and grasped Cara's hand without another thought. She squeezed and pulled the stalwart woman along, the resistance to budge revealing how protective she was over Ask.

"I look forward to your… services," the Margrave said, and Kahlan could hear the smug smile on his lips. It made her insides turn to quivering jelly, disgusted with the dangerous thoughts of what he planned on doing with either of them that spun her head around. Cara turned around for one last look at Ask, who turned their head to her and gave a confident wink.

"Take this off me right now, I can't think straight with this squeezing my insides out through my head," Cara growled not a second after she slammed the chamber door on Edyl's face. Clawing at the strings of her tight corset like a fox caught in a trap, Cara paced around the room until Kahlan caught her and pulled the anxious Mord-Sith to a halt.

"Have you never worn a corset before?"

"You've seen me in a dress before, I don't know why you thought this was a good idea. It's like putting a Gar in lipstain."

Kahlan rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to figure out how to fold down your leathery wings then, creature, because you are the most important piece of this plan," Kahlan murmured, thankful that the soldier was not in earshot.

"Remind me why I was chosen to be the prostitute?"

"Because you threatened to never fuck me again if I made you be the jester."

"I could have been a bard. I'm good with the drums. Why did you get to be the warrior?"

"You are good at drums, but no one outside of D'Hara likes drums without a song, and all your songs are about blood and bones. I got to be the knife-thrower because you would have killed someone too quickly with daggers at your disposal. How did you ever get by for all those years in your leathers?" Kahlan teased as she made quick work of the ties on Cara's corset. "Surely you weren't allowed to whine this much."

"Leathers are soft and supple if you wear them long enough. And they're for protecting us from blades and bruising, not for making my breasts look better. This thing has no tactical advantage, and I can barely breathe."

"So you can admit you look good in this," Kahlan smirked once the corset was off. Cara took a long sigh of relief. Kahlan could not help herself from sliding her hands over the impressions made in Cara's soft, warm skin. "You look even better with it off."

"As much as I would like to," Cara said as Kahlan's hand slid down her front. "We have to focus. We should try and search the castle for the prisoners."

Kahlan kissed the bare top of Cara's shoulder, taking in the scent of her skin and the feeling of her lips brushed against it. In that moment they were together, completely and utterly. All the world could have melted away and they would still be there, Kahlan behind Cara, pressed against each other, wanting and yet not being able to act. Just like old times.

Kahlan closed the door behind her and left Cara to collect herself in the cramped chamber which the Margrave had so graciously awarded them. Having adjusted to traveling without a home for the last two and a half years, Kahlan would have preferred to sleep outside. At least there she would have room to breathe under the stars. The Confessor looked down each hall and saw no sign of the guard, relieved that they had done little to raise suspicion within the castle. The deeper she went to the back of the castle, the more guards she encountered. They paid her little mind as she roamed through the halls, especially since she had left all but a single dagger back in the room with Cara. As she suspected, they were cloaked in red and held the familiar seal of Rahl, but they were altogether apathetic to her presence.

"Where do you think you're going?" said a strong voice from behind, a sign that Kahlan's luck had just run out.

"I'm a little lost, I suppose," Kahlan lied, turning around to see a shapely, short woman with her arms crossed over her chest. Kahlan let her eyes soften like a pale, winter sky. "Is this the way to the throne room? Or is it there?"

"Why would you be going to the throne room?"

"I'm here as entertainment for the Margrave. I'm a knife juggler."

"Blunt knives, I hope, for your sake."

Kahlan rolled her lips together in thought, trying to weave through the barbs the guard kept throwing her way. She clasped her hands together in front of her and looked up smoothly, watching the guard shift her weight ever so slightly to her back foot.

"Of course. Blunt knives. Which way to the throne room?"

The guard simply pointed, whether she was satisfied with Kahlan's banter or she was annoyed was undetermined, but Kahlan gave her a gentle nod and went on her way.

"Did you find the prisoners?" Cara asked when Kahlan returned to the bed chamber, which was even more cramped now that Ask was relieved of his foolish duties. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face, his hat crumpled in his hand as he caught his breath.

Kahlan shook her head. "No, but I know how to find them. One of us has to get thrown into the dungeon."

Cara rolled her eyes. "I've already been tasked with wearing the corset."