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Nicci murmured angrily under her breath as she stepped carefully over debris.
“Any idea what’s going on?” one of the men asked.
“I’m not sure,” Richard said. “Was anyone hurt?”
The men all peered around at each other. A few offered that they didn’t think so, that everyone they knew was accounted for and safe. Another man said that the other rooms on the top floor had been unoccupied.
“Cara?” Richard called as he leaned into the dark hole. “Cara, are you all right?”
Cara didn’t answer, nor did she move. She stood fixed in the same stance.
His anxiety growing, Richard scrambled the rest of the way over the tangled boards and crumbled plaster. Using one hand against the ceiling to help him balance atop the unstable debris, he stepped through the hole into Cara’s room. The destruction was much the same as it had been in his room. Two walls, rather than just one, were holed, but the impact had thrown the material from the second wall into Richard’s room. The glass in her window, too, was blown out, but the door still hung, if crookedly, in place.
Cara stood directly in the centerline between the two holes, but she was backed closer to the void in the wall into Richard’s room. Wreckage lay all around her. Her leather outfit appeared to have kept her from being shredded by the flying debris.
“Cara?” Richard called again as he made his way down the shifting pile of rubble.
Cara stood unmoving in the dark room, still staring off into the distance. Nicci scrambled over the broken boards and plaster and through the hole in the wall. She seized Richard’s arm briefly for support as she caught up with him.
“Cara?” Nicci said as she brought her hand holding the flame around in front of Cara’s face.
Richard held up the lantern. Cara’s eyes were opened wide, staring, yet unseeing. Tears had left damp trails through the dust on her face. She still hadn’t moved from her defensive stance, but now that he was close, Richard could see that her entire body trembled.
He gripped her arm but, startled, drew back.
She was as cold as ice.
“Cara? Can you hear us?” Nicci touched Cara’s shoulder and with the same surprise as Richard drew back.
Cara didn’t react. It was as if she really were frozen in place. Nicci held the flame up close to the Mord-Sith’s face. Her skin looked almost pale blue, but with the way she was covered in a layer of white dust, he wasn’t sure if that was really true or not.
Richard slipped an arm around Cara’s waist. It was like putting his arm around a block of ice. His instinct was to draw back, but he refused to allow himself to do so. He realized by how his shoulder hurt that he wasn’t going to easily be able to lift her by himself.
He looked back at the faces framed in the ragged round hole in the wall, “Could some of you help me with her?”
Men scrambled over the wreckage, spilling into Cara’s room, causing yet more dust to billow up. With others bringing light close, Nicci let the small flame extinguish as she stepped close to the Mord-Sith. The men gathered into a knot as they silently watched the sorceress.
Frowning in concentration, she pressed the flats of her hands to Cara’s temples.
With a cry Nicci staggered back. Richard reached out with his free hand and caught her elbow to prevent her from tumbling backwards over the tangled rubble.
“Dear spirits,” Nicci whispered, panting to catch her breath as if from unexpected pain.
“What?” Richard asked. “What is it?”
The sorceress placed her hands over her heart, still gulping air as she recovered from the unexpected. “She’s barely alive.”
With his chin, Richard pointed to the door. “Let’s get her out of here.”
Nicci nodded. “Downstairs—my room.”
Richard, without thinking, swept Cara up in his arms. Fortunately, the men were right there to help when they saw him wince in pain.
“Dear Creator,” one of the men exclaimed as he lifted her leg, “she’s as cold as the Keeper’s heart.”
“Come on,” Richard said, “help me get her downstairs.”
Once they lifted her, Cara’s limbs were easily moved, although they wouldn’t go limp. The men helping Richard carry Cara shuffled through the rubble. One of the men kicked the broken door out of the way. They carried her down the narrow stairs feet first. Richard held her shoulders.
At the bottom of the stairs, Nicci directed them into her room and to the bed. They gently laid Cara down as Nicci first yanked the covers out from under the stricken woman. Once Cara was settled into the bed, Nicci immediately covered her with the blankets.
Cara’s blue eyes were still opened wide, staring, it seemed, into some distant nothingness. Occasionally, a tear set out from the corner of her eye on a slow journey across her cheek. Her chin, her shoulders, her arms trembled.
Richard pried Cara’s fingers open, making her release the Agiel she still had in a death grip. Her eyes showed no reaction. He endured the excruciating pain of touching her Agiel until he got it out of her grip and was able to release it to hang by the chain around her wrist.
“Why don’t you all wait outside?” Nicci said in a quiet voice. “Give me some time to see what I can do?”
The men made their way out, saying that they were going back on patrol, or to stand guard, in case they were needed.
“If that thing comes back,” Richard told them, “don’t try to stop it. Come get me.”
One of the men cocked his head in puzzlement. “What thing, Lord Rahl? What is it we’re supposed to be looking for?”
“I’m not sure. All I was able to see was a huge shadow as it came through the wall and then went out the window.”
The man looked upward. “If it broke that hole through the wall to get through, then how did it get out a small window?”
“I don’t know,” Richard admitted. “I guess I didn’t really get a good look at it.”
The man glanced up again, as if he could see the wreckage above. “We’ll keep our eyes wide open. You can be sure of that.”
It was then that Richard remembered that he’d left his sword up in his room. It made him uneasy to be without it. He wanted to go get it, but he didn’t want to leave Cara’s side.
After the last man had left, Nicci sat on the side of the bed as she held a hand over Cara’s forehead. Richard knelt close.
“What do you think is wrong?” he asked.
Nicci let the hand settle on Cara’s forehead. “I have no idea.”
“But you can do something to make her better?”
Nicci’s answer was a long moment in coming. “I’m not sure. Whatever I can do, though, I will.”
Richard took hold of Cara’s still trembling, frigid hand. “Do you think we should shut her eyes? She hasn’t even blinked.”
Nicci nodded. “Probably not a bad idea. I think it’s the dust making her tears run.”
One at a time, Nicci carefully shut Cara’s eyes. It somehow made Richard feel better that Cara wasn’t staring at nothing.
Nicci returned her hand to Cara’s forehead as she placed her other hand high on her chest. While Nicci held a wrist, an ankle, and slipped a hand under the back of Cara’s neck, Richard went to the washbasin and returned with a wet cloth. He carefully washed Cara’s face and brushed some of the dust and bits of plaster out of her hair. Through the wet cloth, he could feel the icy cold of her flesh.
