part vi

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Cara couldn't determine if she was beating Nicci bloody on behalf of Richard's death or on behalf of what she had done to Kahlan. To save herself the trouble, Cara decided she would make Nicci's death twice as painful instead of troubling herself over a motive she did not need. Her fists knew nothing else besides Nicci's blood, her leathers tasted and craved it like wine. Cara had ignored Kahlan's offer to bring reckoning upon Nicci with the Sword of Truth—that would have made the pain and Nicci's life go by too quickly. Nicci's once beautiful face had now taken cuts and red splatters and Cara hoped she would be unrecognizable when she was finally through.

Richard Rahl was dead, and it was certainly Nicci's fault.

"Cara," said a voice, low and unfeeling.

Another punch.

"Cara," the voice insisted, but not enough to stop her.

Another slap.

"Cara, please! Enough!"

Cara lifted her hand to pound it down on Nicci's chest when Kahlan snatched it mid-air and held it firm. Cara scowled at first, all the violence within her howling at Kahlan, and she looked at her like a wild animal does a human simply trying to take it out of a trap.

It was Kahlan. She was alive, at least.

"It's over," Kahlan told her, pulling Cara off the groaning sorceress.

"It will never be over. This is her fault," Cara told her, voice low and rumbling. A tear ran hot down her cheek. There was nothing left for her now—Lord Rahl was dead, her agiels were dead, everything was over. "After all we have been through, don't we deserve some small part of vengeance?"

"Richard told me to keep her on our side," Kahlan said, but it sounded like the words burned on the way up her throat. "I sorely wish that were not the case… but you and I both know to trust him."

Nicci looked between the two women with the utmost skepticism, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Her eyes, now bloodshot and feral, flitted between Cara and Kahlan as they argued.

"Fine. Fine," Cara conceded with a disappointed shake of her head. The pain of her agiel was absent, as was her bond to the Lord Rahl. Cara felt unstable, unwieldy, and altogether uneasy. Cara had lost everything.

Nearly everything. Kahlan's eyes were the only familiar thing.

"Close your mind to it. Put your mask on, as I have. We have to get Richard and Nicci out of the city. We still have work to do," Kahlan told her, gripping Cara's arm. "Are you with me, Cara? Are you ready?"

Cara felt herself shake with rage. "I will carry Richard, you take Nicci. If I take her, I may very well kill her."

Kahlan did not look pleased with the decision herself, but she nodded—now, more than anything, Cara valued Kahlan's diplomacy and selflessness. Cara only knew how to be loyal and obedient, she did not know how to stop being so selfish. "You heard her, get up. We're going."

Nicci nodded wordlessly, gathering her dress around her waist as they ran back the way they came. Cara closed her heart as she bent down, pulled Richard's large, lifeless body onto her shoulders, and slowly made her way to follow Kahlan. The Mother Confessor was the only thing that pointed to anything, now. The Mother Confessor was the only thing Cara had left to care about saving.

Cara's heart felt cold as ice when the last handful of sand was pulled from the gravesite. It was smaller than she had hoped, but it was the best they could do without tools. Her bare hands were raw and covered in pale, gritty sand. Cara had no idea how long she had been digging, not until she felt someone standing behind her.

"You did that all by yourself?"

"You know very little of Mord-Sith in your country, don't you?"

Nicci was silent for a moment, and Cara had half a mind to whirl around and backhand her across the face. But all that rage directed at Nicci did not matter so much to her anymore. Everything felt so dull, so cold, so endless. Her anger now was like a flame without heat.

"I would have helped."

"I don't want your magic. Lord Rahl is magic against magic so we can be steel against steel," Cara replied reflexively. "Magic is what got us here in the first place."

"I can tell you cared deeply for Richard. You were more than just his protector. He spoke of you from time to time, you know," Nicci told her softly. Cara turned around, her face impassive as a frozen lake. "The way Richard described you made me believe that he considered you a friend."

"I was much more than his friend. I was his Mord-Sith," Cara told her ferociously, digging her fingers into the sand to haul herself out of the pit she had made. As she rose to the surface, easily given her athletic prowess, Cara made sure to knock into Nicci with her shoulder, carrying with her all the hurt from her and Kahlan combined and smiling to herself as Nicci stumbled back a step against the blow. It did not solve anything, and Cara had always known that her violence was largely in vain, but she could not deny the satisfaction that terrorizing Nicci gave her.

"Just because I am speaking to you now does not guarantee I will ever speak to you again. As soon as Kahlan gets this idea of letting you hold onto our horsetail out of her head, you will be left in the next ditch on the side of the road with nothing in your pockets and no map to follow."

Cara stepped into the tent which had been erected not for them to sleep in, but for the fallen Lord Rahl to rest until his burial. She had not seen his body since she laid it down here, in the sands far enough from the city of Altur'Rang that they were no longer beholden to its wretched stench. Cara half-expected to see Richard lying there with the Sword of Truth lodged in his belly, but Kahlan had spent the entire afternoon in the tent, preparing him for burial.

"He doesn't look like himself at all," Cara said quietly.

"I know. I keep thinking he'll get up… and tell us all what to do next," Kahlan smiled sadly, her verdant eyes welling up with tears. "Cara, I keep—"

She did not let Kahlan answer because she knew exactly where she was headed, and it was a road she wished not to follow Kahlan down. Instead, Cara rushed to her knees, gathered Kahlan up in her arms, and let her weep now that she finally could.

"It's not your fault, even when it feels so deeply as if the blame is entirely on you. It was an accident," Cara managed, holding back her own tears. Her hand reached up to stroke Kahlan's hair as the Confessor sobbed in her arms. "He wouldn't want you to take any of it on your shoulders."

"We had so little time, Cara… it feels like we barely knew each other," Kahlan continued, sniffling against the tears as she tried to continue. "One minute we were happy, the next we were apart, the next we were tested beyond understanding… what was it all for, if it only led to this? Captured by a vindictive witch, then slain by his wife's hand. That is not the legacy a man like Richard should leave."

Cara held her in the silence which was filled to the brim with sobs. Cara could not bring herself to try, for she did not know how. Tears wetted her deep, blue eyes, but Cara was as still as stone. It was all too much, too much to handle, too much to express. If she let go of her control for even a second, Cara feared that she would burst.

"I have nothing healing to say."

"I don't want you to placate me. I want you to tell me the truth."

Kahlan took in a deep, shaky breath to steady herself. Cara felt her chest expand and fall under her arms, and she tried the best she could to squeeze all the pain from Kahlan's body. All she wanted in this moment was to be impossibly close to Kahlan, it did not matter what it meant.

"I don't care about anything else right now except laying him to rest," Kahlan mumbled under Cara's arm, squeezing her fingers around the buckles on Cara's corset.

"I can help with that. I have finished the preparations," Cara told her, and it was then that Kahlan looked up at her and hissed in empathy.

"Your skin, Cara…" Kahlan trailed off, touching the dry, surely reddened patches on Cara's cheeks with the soft pad of her thumb. "You were out in the sun all this time?"

"I would do anything for Lord Rahl. For Richard. He deserves a better burial than this, but we cannot…"

"It is good enough. It has to be good enough."

And so Cara and Kahlan buried Richard Cypher Rahl beneath a pile of carefully chosen stones in a desert in the Old World. They spoke highly of him and even allowed Nicci to do so. Cara and Kahlan both forgot much of that day, too swallowed up in the monstrous maw of guilt and pain. So far from home, so far from those he cared about. Cara hoped she never would return to the Old World again.

Kahlan did not speak for five days, not even to Cara.

Tonight they ate turnip soup. Cara accidentally spilled a spoonful onto her lap. Kahlan laughed. The sand felt softer beneath Cara's feet that night.

Cara woke up with sweat on her brow, and only when Kahlan stirred a few feet away did she realize that Kahlan was safe. At least she had done that right.

They were running out of food, so Cara elected not to eat. Kahlan did not protest like she ordinarily would have. Nothing seemed to matter so deeply anymore. Cara did not feel the hunger like she used to.

A number of colorless, tasteless, days later, Cara, Kahlan, and Nicci reached the city of Yanter'Rang. It was a desert city with buildings made of red clay, all different shapes and shades, denoting that this once was a small village but now had grown to a moderate size. By no means was it the monstrosity that Altur'Rang was, but there was something about the city that felt brighter, more cheerful.

"This city has not yet fallen to the Imperial Order," Nicci told them. She had been subjected to walking while Cara and Kahlan remained on the white steed. Kahlan had not protested when Cara made this decision. "Yanter'Rang is known as the Jewel of the Desert. I have been here before… after the dreary devastation the Order has caused, it is indeed still a jewel. They are one of the last who still believe in the old gods."

"We will stop and rest a while here, we need provisions and we should buy another horse for you," Kahlan told her, holding onto Cara's shoulders as they trotted to a halt. Cara held back the tide of anger that threatened to rush through her. Kahlan seemed to notice this, for her hand squeezed the tight muscle of Cara's shoulder before she dismounted.

"I'll get myself a horse, I'm skilled in bartering," Nicci offered.

"Is that how you got into Jagang's tent?" Cara shot off, to which Kahlan said nothing. Nicci seemed not to care, instead avoiding Cara's eyes in favor of Kahlan's.

"Then Cara and I will go to the markets for food," Kahlan decided as she removed the Sword of Truth from the horse and buckled the baldric across her chest. Kahlan paid no mind to Nicci's curt nod as she pulled Cara along with her by the arm. Cara went gladly, even if she noticed Nicci's eyes placed keenly on them as they parted ways.

"This is the most you've spoken in a week," Cara reasoned, letting Kahlan keep hold of her arm as they pushed through the bustling crowds. They were bereft of white dresses and red leathers, and Cara wondered if even the Old World would bow to the Mother Confessor and give her any and all provisions she needed. Perhaps they should have changed but Nicci had warned against it, and to her dismay Kahlan had agreed. They needed to leave the Old World as inconspicuous as they came into it.

"We should get cheese," Kahlan told her in a clear attempt to sidestep the question. Cara did not mind, she would get the truth out of Kahlan eventually. For now, Cara decided that she should focus on the task at hand; quieting their rumbling bellies. It had been quite a few days, she only noticed now with her tight-feeling stomach, since her last meal.

Cara nodded and pulled away from Kahlan to speak to a merchant who stood behind a table with all sorts of delightfully large wheels of cheese. Cara noticed venrah, a D'Haran cheese, up for sale and felt something old and nearly forgotten flutter delicately in her chest.

"How much?" Cara asked. The woman behind the stand, her dark eyes watching Cara carefully, held up three fingers.

"For that?"

"It's a long way from D'Hara, kaazik. My price is my price, and no other seller has these sorts of wares. If you want a little piece of home, my cheese is the best journey back without having to tire out your horse," the woman smiled. Cara's blonde hair and blue eyes stuck out like a sore thumb in these lands.

"You're a smart woman, I will give you that," Cara grumbled. She shoved her hand into her pocket, retrieved a copper mark, and held it up to the shopkeep. "It's what I have."

"Good enough," the woman assured her. As she folded the cheese up into wax paper, Cara placed both hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Where could I get a good drink around here?"

When she found Kahlan again, she raised an eyebrow in shock. The Confessor was practically bent over with the amount of food she had procured, all different types of dried meats and berries, enough to last them at least to Galea.

"You've done well," Cara mused, crossing her arms as Kahlan approached.

"It's something to do—can't you hold anything?"

"You got yourself into this situation, I planned accordingly," Cara told her, holding up her single wheel of cheese.

"I got your favorites, you know. All of them will go into my belly, and you'll have to watch—"

Cara quickly snatched the satchel of dried meat from Kahlan's arms, her belly practically growling at the prospect of eating even a morsel of what they had bought. "Have you seen Nicci?"

"No, I would venture to guess the horse-sellers are on the outskirts of town. Let's get back to our horse and wait for her," Kahlan said as they walked down a quieter street, away from the hawking merchants and prying eyes.

"I have a better idea."

The local drinking hole which the cheese merchant had suggested was everything Cara had craved; it was dark, it was cool despite the warm desert air, and no one even bothered to look at Kahlan or Cara as they walked inside. The walls were covered in richly colored tapestries which seemed to make the room even smaller. Kahlan drifted away to find a table while Cara approached the barkeep.

"Two of whatever it is people love most here," Cara told the long haired man behind the bar. He nodded, pulled out two, tall glasses, and poured a yellow drink that produced white foam on the top into each glass. Then, he held up a single finger.

"What… is this?" Cara asked, taking one of the glasses and lifting it up as if it would tell her the answer.

"Ale. Money, please."

Cara shot him a glare, slammed his coin on the bar, and gingerly carried the two glasses of ale to the thick, wooden table Kahlan had claimed for them.

"What is that?" Kahlan asked incredulously.

"Ale," Cara muttered. "I'd much rather have mead."

"I can't have that," Kahlan said as Cara took a long swig of her ale. "Confessors don't imbibe."

"Really? We're so far away from the Midlands that even if you got up on the table and shouted 'I'm the Mother Confessor,' no one would bat an eye or even know what on the Creator's green land you were on about," Cara scoffed. "Drink at least a bit of it. It's not half bad."

"If I lose control of my powers, I would never forgive myself," Kahlan looked down pensively at the glass in her hands. There was an odd, withered little feeling in Cara's chest that she had never remembered having before. Like she was sorry she had made Kahlan feel that way.

"You don't have to if you truly don't—"

Cara had to swallow her words as Kahlan downed a mouthful of the carbonated drink, a bit of the foam left on her upper lip. Cara smiled in unabashed delight at the scene.

"I've ruined the Mother Confessor, haven't I?"

"They tried to warn me about Mord-Sith. I should have listened."

Cara grinned again and lifted her glass. "To Richard."

Kahlan's deep, green eyes welled up with tears again. "To my love."

It was young into the cool, crisp evening when Nicci finally found them in the tavern. Kahlan had laid her head on Cara's shoulder, the two giggling like young acolytes. There were five empty glasses on the table in front of them, and from the looks of it Nicci truly could not decipher who had drunk more. Kahlan's eyes caught her first and the laughing stopped—even when drunk, the Mother Confessor seemed to have near full command of herself at all times.

"Did you find a horse?" Kahlan said, speaking a little slower than usual.

"I did, and for a fair price," Nicci said smoothly. The tavern had gone quiet, the whispering had already begun. Nicci did not expect a fight, but she did anticipate some unwelcome eyes on them. Her black dress and golden hair always gave her away as Death's Mistress, the Slave Queen, or whatever other pejorative name the locals had for her. "We should go, you two have had more than a good time here. If we leave now, we can make camp before it gets too dark."

Cara simply nodded and picked Kahlan's head up off her shoulder, pushing her into a sitting position. The Mord-Sith was slower than usual, taking her time to slide back in her chair and stand up. Nicci watched her closely as she leaned to the side a little too much for a moment, then reoriented herself. It was clear now who had indulged heavily, and who had simply been a drinking companion.

"Come, Cara," Kahlan said, grabbing Cara with one hand and their provisions with the other. Seeing that the two women had figured out a way to conduct themselves, Nicci saw herself out of the seedy tavern and into the cool, night air.

It was not long until she heard the giggling again, and when she turned back around she saw Cara's arm wrapped around Kahlan's shoulders. Her face, which in Nicci's experience was almost always dour, beamed with amusement. They slowly stumbled along after Nicci, Kahlan managing to retain more of her balance than Cara could, until they all reached the gates where their horses were tied up.

"I'll take some of the food," Nicci said, waiting for Kahlan with an outstretched arm. "Do I need to take one of you on my horse?"

"No," Cara spat, lucid for just a moment. "Kahlan and I ride together. Always."

Nicci was no stranger to hate, for it had been a friend to her all of her life. She had been hated, had hated others, and had even hated herself. The last one was a recent development after having spent nearly a year living with Richard Rahl, the man who only did good. There had always been something about him that made her want to reach out, and now that she had experienced life through his ways, Nicci felt the winds change in her. Nicci knew that Kahlan and Cara had too been drastically changed by Richard Rahl, but they avoided any conversation with her as though their lives depended on it. Nicci knew why, even though she wished she could take it all back.

"This is a good place," Nicci said after they had ridden a decent way away from Yanter'Rang. It would be no good to stay too long in an Old World settlement, Nicci found herself constantly looking over her shoulder and expecting to see Brother Narev or even worse, Emperor Jagang. After having lived a slave in many forms for so long, it was difficult to believe in any semblance of freedom.

"The queen hath spoken," Cara mumbled, nearly falling off her horse but managing to stick the landing. Mord-Sith continued to intrigue and surprise Nicci. "We'll tie up the food… or else… bears."

Kahlan laughed, all belly and thunder, and Nicci hadn't the slightest idea why. Cara had always spoken in a consistent, dry tone, and Nicci had never found her funny at all. Neither had Kahlan, but perhaps that was due to the grief. Nicci's heart felt small and cold again at the thought.

Late into the evening, when morning was just beginning to rise, Nicci woke to find Kahlan's arm slung over Cara's middle, her head resting soundly on the Mord-Sith's chest. They looked so peaceful in sleep, so still and serene, and for a moment Nicci simply took in the sight of the two women together.

Nicci wondered how long they had been in love with each other, and if Richard ever knew.