The ropes were heavy and the gag was gritty. Her blindfold made it impossible to learn much about her environment, but Cara smelled sulphur and the air was damp and warm on her skin.
Stupid, stupid, Cara thought. How could I let myself be taken like that?
Kahlan's voice came unbidden in the Mord'Sith's mind. You were exhausted, undernourished and dehydrated, and thought you could trust these people.
No, Cara thought. I wanted to trust these people, I wanted us to be safe.
She gritted her teeth and called on her Mord'Sith training.
Cara had been bound, but not tethered, and so was able to hop slowly around her cell, listening, touching, and observing. Seeking anything that might indicate a door, so she could at least get the jump on whoever came to get her.
She recited and recommitted herself to the rules she had broken:
1. Never trust anyone, ever.
2. You are never too tired to keep watch.
3. A Mord'Sith is never a victim.
4. Protect Kahlan.
After their intimate embrace last night, Cara had grown uncomfortable and turned back to her own blankets, away from the Mother Confessor. Kahlan had been confused, and had reached for her, only for the Mord'Sith to twitch violently at her touch.
Cara had hardly trusted her own voice at the moment, but she knew she had to say something, otherwise the Mother Confessor would stay up all night watching her back and worrying.
"Rest, Mother Confessor," Cara spoke in a low, wavering tone, the words barely meeting Kahlan's ears.
A pause. Her heart beating as she felt Kahlan's eyes traveling across her form. The heat from the fire and the heavy blankets making her feel uncomfortable and slightly nauseous.
"Please," Cara managed, her body taut, still turned away from Kahlan. Did Kahlan not understand that this couldn't happen? I can't let you down this way, Kahlan. Please understand.
And then Kahlan's gentle response: "As you wish," and she had turned into her own blankets and settled down into sleep.
Despite her sheer exhaustion, Cara lay awake until she was certain the Mother Confessor had fallen asleep. Cara let out a breath. You won't be able to protect her if you care about her. Look at your sister. Anyone you ever cared about.
Cara glanced at Kahlan for a long moment, asleep and tucked into her blankets, long dark hair tumbling towards Cara.
"Cara, please go to sleep," Kahlan murmured.
Cara tensed, needlessly fearful her thoughts had somehow become audible. Ridiculous, Cara, don't be ridiculous. You must really need sleep if your brain is this dysfunctional.
"Please," Kahlan offered, the word clumsy in her drowsy mouth and tired brain.
Permission given, or rather, commanded, Cara had allowed herself to fall into unconsciousness. Remembering it now, the sulphuric smell filling her nostrils and the bindings cutting off the circulation in her wrists, Cara felt the anger bubbling in her chest.
Cara had fallen asleep embarassingly easily, and fallen immediately into a dream. That night, her body had felt light, not leaden, and she had floated just above the ground, a shimmering blue-silver pool, surrounded by tiny, dark green vines, inches from her nose. Her dream self had been transfixed, joyfully enthralled and completely unable to look away.
Dream-Cara had gazed deeply into the pool, and in response a droplet of the silvery substance had slowly risen up, against gravity, to meet her, gently pressing its coolness onto the bridge of her nose and wrapping itself down by her jaw and below each of her ears, and coming together at the base of her skull. It had felt heavenly, and Dream-Cara's eyes had closed, mind blissfully clear of all thought.
A tickle by her ankles and her wrists nearly made Dream-Cara laugh, and her feet twitched to avoid the sensation.
Suddenly, darkness. Dream-Cara's eyes flew open, but in the dream there was no light, only sensation. The cool substance circling Dream-Cara's head solidified, and the pressure was unbearable. The tickle by her feet and wrists had been replaced by a painful burn, as the vines by the pool had blossomed into dark, hungry monsters, and wound themselves tightly around her feet and her wrists, making it impossible for Dream-Cara to struggle.
Dream-Cara's eyes searched fiercely in the darkness for any remnant of the beautiful pool of light that she knew had been just inches from her face only moments before. She flailed her limbs but the vines held her fast and unmoving. Dream-Cara's air was getting warmer and heavier and it was getting harder and harder to breathe through the pain, until...
SPLAT. Cara had been dropped face first, still bound as she had been in her dream, not into the beautiful pool of her dreams, but onto the hard rock floor of a cell. Looking wildly under the cloth of her blindfold and struggling into wakefulness, her dizzy eyes had caught a glimpse of a deep red robe billowing out of sight before the door (was it above her?) and the candlelight had disappeared.
When she overcame the vertigo several candlemarks later and managed to sit up against a wall, fury was the first emotion she felt.
How could you be so stupid, Cara?!
The Nawlee were masters of the dreamworld, and could manipulate anyone's sleeping thoughts, bending someone's dreams and nightmares to their will. Awake, Mord'Sith were able to resist magic, but asleep, they were powerless to resist the dreamworkers of the Nawlee.
But what do they want from me? From Kahlan? If they harmed one hair on her head...
The Mord'Sith growled, and clenched her fists to keep up the bloodflow.
A clattering on the floor in front of her, and a deep voice from above:
"A knife for you, Mord'Sith. Come, it is time to play your part."