Title: Dance of the Compass
Author: pristineungift
Beta: hrhrionastar
Rating: PG-16 / Soft R
Wordcount: 18,121
Warnings: Fantasy Violence; Non-Explicit Sexual Content; Prostitution; Slavery; Torture; Doppelgangers.
Pairings/Characters: Cara/Jennsen; Darken/Cara; Richard/Walter; Richard/Kahlan; mentioned and/or implied: Zedd/Panis; Zedd/Serena; Zedd/Shota; Zedd/Kahlan; Darken/Salindra; Richard/Salindra; Richard/Cara; Richard/Darken; Egremont/Darken's Mother; Panis/Thaddicus; Panis/Taralyn; Nicci; Merissa; Malray; Mika; Annalina Aldurren.

Prompt: vorquellyn: Something I've seen in X-Men and liked were power swap fics. So, everyone has different powers than they do in the show (for example Cara is the Seeker, Kahlan is a Mord'Sith, etc.) Up to the filler whether this is a world where these powers were distributed this way all along or someone has cast a spell that caused everyone's abilities to shift.

Summary: When the powers of Orden, Agiel ,and Confession are combined, it sends Richard and the Mord'Sith Cara not forward in time but… sideways. They awake in another world in which all the faces are familiar, but nothing is the same.

Notes: You guys remember Wizard!Darken? Well, I always said I was going to write about him, it just took me a little longer than I thought it would. Also, any lines you recognize are from Legend of the Seeker. Special thanks to hrhrionastar for betaing, and to madmguillotine, who inspired some of Salindra's characterization.

Dance of the Compass

If a coin comes down heads, that means that the possibility of its coming down tails has collapsed. Until that moment the two possibilities were equal. But on another world, it does come down tails. And when that happens, the two worlds split apart.

― Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass

-l-

There was a disorienting wave of magic, a feeling like fingers digging through Richard's skull as Orden and Kahlan's confession did battle within him, and then an earsplitting whine, a swarming knife of fire in his neck that could only be the kiss of an Agiel.

He screamed. He couldn't help it.

Then the world went white, and Richard's vision went black, and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

-l-

The first thing that Richard saw when he regained consciousness was Darken Rahl's face. There could be no mistaking it. Piercing blue eyes, black moustache and little beard, shoulder length hair falling over his cheek…

Richard punched him in the jaw and rolled, surging to his feet with the Sword of Truth in his hands. Feeling unsteady, he flourished the blade to keep Rahl at bay, absently noting that there were three other people present, all of them women. But he had no time to do more than notice their existence and general position in the forest clearing where he found himself. Rahl was the priority. Rahl who was… backing away and holding his hands to his face, looking at Richard with an expression of… hurt?

It was a trick. Rahl was a master of illusion and lies. Well, Richard was the Seeker of Truth and he wouldn't play this game. Once, he might have hesitated if Rahl was a less than bloodthirsty opponent, but not anymore. Not after the plague. Not after what he did to Jennsen.

Richard let out a war cry and lunged, his sword swinging in a downward arc that would take Rahl's head from his shoulders.

But he never touched the tyrant. Instead, one of the women leapt into his path, her own blade shining white-blue and coming up to block his stroke with a crash that jarred Richard's arms, throwing sparks and rattling his very bones. He grit his teeth, shocked at how strong she was, already shifting his weight to parry.

But then the woman spoke to him. Well, shrieked at him.

"What are you doing, Richard?!" she demanded, blue eyes flashing, cheeks turning as red as her hair.

Jennsen. The woman in front of him, wielding a sword like she had been born with it in her hand, was Jennsen.

Her hair was braided and wound into a crown around her head, keeping it out of her way. She wore a lavender tunic that fell to mid-thigh and brown leather breeches, with a matching vest that laced up the front in a crisscrossed pattern. Her tall boots reached her knees and were a deep purple, tooled with patterns of flowers. Her sword belt sat low around her hips. Around her neck was a familiar necklace – a triangular stone etched with a rune.

And then there was her sword.

No matter how impossible, Jennsen was holding the Sword of Truth. And it was reacting to her as if she were the Seeker, glowing blue-white, just as Richard's sword – also somehow the Sword of Truth – glowed red-orange in his hands. When the Seeker wields the sword, it turns red with righteousness, giving him the strength of all the Seekers that have come before, Zedd's voice whispered in Richard's memories. A Seeker who has mastered their anger will see it turn white. That is the power of love and forgiveness.

Looking over Jennsen's shoulder, Richard saw that Rahl had taken refuge behind the other two women. One was the Mord'Sith who had attacked Richard just before he blacked out. She had her Agiel in her hand, and she stood ready to defend Rahl, which wasn't very surprising.

What was surprising was that the woman standing next to her appeared identical, save for the fact that she wore her blond hair loose and was wearing a dress of Confessor white.

"I detest physical fighting," Rahl was pouting, still holding his hands over his jaw. "It's so uncivilized."

"Shut up and heal yourself, wizard," the Confessor said, rolling her eyes.

The Mord'Sith gave the Confessor a sharp look. "You should show proper respect to the Lord Rahl."

The Confessor laughed.

Richard sheathed his sword. "I think," he said, "there's been a misunderstanding."

Sometimes, he really hated magic.

-l-

They were in another world. They had to be. Something about the combination of Orden, confession, and Agiel had sent them through the veil that separated planes of existence, him and the Mord'Sith both. Here, the Jennsen who wasn't his Jennsen told him, she was the Seeker of Truth, and he, Richard, was pristinely ungifted. Darken Rahl was Jennsen's much loved elder brother, and a Wizard of the First Order.

Richard wondered for a horrifying moment if that meant that his Darken Rahl was also Jennsen's brother, which would likely mean he was Richard's brother too. But no. No. So much in this world was different, it must just be another deviation from the realm Richard called home. Like the fact that Rahl's robes were not red, but a shade of blue that matched his eyes exactly, though the cut and ornamentation was as Richard remembered it from the times he had seen – and fought – the man.

Both the Confessor and the Mord'Sith were Cara Mason. They had the same green eyes and sharp cheekbones, the same long golden hair, and the same prickly personality.

They watched each other with matching expressions of disgust, all curling lips and flinty gazes, neither able to believe that in another life she was the very thing she hated. Jennsen regarded them with flushed cheeks and an affectionate smile. She and Rahl shared a look, and Jennsen shrugged and said, "Caras."

Rahl laughed, and he had dimples and that was just… odd. Somehow, that was the oddest thing that had happened yet. Richard was absolutely positive that his Darken Rahl did not have dimples.

Both Caras huffed, and then returned to glaring at each other, the Mord'Sith's braid swinging.

"We cannot both be 'Cara,'" the Confessor said. "It will get confusing all too quickly."

"Agreed," the Mord'Sith answered, only her lips moving. The way she held herself completely still was unnerving.

The Confessor was doing it too.

"This is my world," the Confessor went on. They seemed to be having a silent conversation. Maybe being essentially the same person meant they could hear each other's thoughts? Now there was a troubling idea…

"I shall be Mason," The Mord'Sith conceded, with a pucker of her lips. Richard was continually surprised that she hadn't tried to kill them all yet. Rahl's presence, even if he wasn't the right Rahl, might be the only thing holding her back.

"You should tell Darken of how you came to be here," Jennsen told Richard, recapturing his attention. "If anyone can help you get home, he can." She beamed at her brother, and Darken smiled – not a small, razor thin grin, but a wide flash of white teeth that made him look so young. Richard had never stopped to think about how young Darken Rahl was, how young he had been when he became a king.

The Mord'Sith – Mason – strode over to Rahl and went down on her knees, putting her right fist over her heart. "I serve Darken Rahl, whatever the world," she said, bowing her head.

Rahl's eyes widened, and he looked over at Jennsen, raising an eyebrow. Jennsen raised one back, then winked at him. Rahl nodded, his spine stiffening.

"Arise, Mistress Mason, and thank you. Long has it been since any Mord'Sith served a Rahl."

Mason's head snapped up at that. "What?"

-l-

Mason insisted that they be told the recent history of D'Hara and the surrounding territories so that she could 'better serve her lord.' Richard thought it was a good idea in general. If Cara was the Seeker's Confessor, and Darken Rahl was the First Wizard, who knew what else was different? What if he saw someone he knew, someone like Chase or Michael, and treated them as friends when they were anything but?

He shied away from thinking of Zedd and Kahlan, but could not avoid it for long.

Rahl started a fire for them with magic, and they sat in a circle around it, making cushions of saddlebags and blankets. Jennsen took out a hunting bow and began to wax it, and Cara sharpened her daggers. Mason waited for Rahl to seat himself, and then reclined at his right side with the air of a lioness in repose. Richard noticed Jennsen surreptitiously watching the Mord'Sith.

Their eyes met, and Jennsen looked away. "You should start, Darken," she said. "Your part of the story comes first."

Rahl nodded, his expression hardening into something that looked more… right… on his face, to Richard anyway. It was a thinning of the lips and a tightening around the eyes, a studied, lethal blankness that brought to mind a striking hawk.

It put Richard at ease, this little piece of familiarity.

"I am the oldest son of Panis Rahl," Rahl began.

"And the rightful heir to the throne," Jennsen added. Rahl glared at her, and Richard's hand was on the hilt of his sword, loosening it in its scabbard before he could stop himself.

"We are not having this argument again, sister dear," Rahl bit out. "I have told you, when we win this war, you will be the one to lead D'Hara. I have seen what having such power does to wizards and men. Being both a wizard and a man, I am doubly likely to become a worse tyrant than the one we are working so hard to overthrow."

Mason looked between the siblings, her brow furrowed. "But you are the true Lord Rahl. I can feel the bond."

"See!" Jennsen pointed at Mason, triumphant. "Cara agrees with me, and we both know she's the smart one."

The two Caras looked at each other, both eventually nodding, as if to acknowledge that intelligence was a trait they had in common.

Rahl placed his hand over Mason's gloved one in a show of gentle gallantry that Richard found deeply disturbing. Mason seemed pleased with the contact though.

"My dear," Rahl said, "I am Darken Rahl, Wizard of the First Order, and I would be a terrible king."

"Great and terrible," Mason murmured, never looking away from this world's incarnation of her master. Her face spelled out adoration, undying devotion. Maybe even love. It was the same way Denna had stared at Richard. "You would unite all the lands under one banner. Thousands upon thousands would kneel and pledge an oath to you every day. Your enemies would throw themselves on their own swords in fear."

Rahl squeezed Mason's hand. "That," he said lightly, "is precisely what I am afraid of. And that is why, when we have deposed Zorander, Jennsen will become Lady Rahl, and I shall be her advisor." He favored Mason with a kind smile, his dimples making another appearance. "If you wish to serve her instead, I will understand."

Zorander?!

Mason looked at Jennsen, and Jennsen unflinchingly met her gaze, pausing in her maintenance of the hunting bow.

Mason faced Rahl again. "It is a Mord'Sith's duty to love Lord Rahl."

Rahl nodded, like people swore undying loyalty to him every day, and said, "Now, where was I?"

"You were being long winded, as usual," Cara smirked, the long white sleeves of her dress dangling down to slither along the ground. She held one of her daggers up, examining the edge. "Perhaps you should get to the point." She clicked her teeth together with an audible snap after the last word.

"Always so bloodthirsty, Cara," Rahl purred in her direction. "Bloodthirsty and impatient."

The Caras looked at each other, and seemed to silently agree again that, yes, this was something else they had in common.

"My lord," Mason took Rahl's right hand between both of hers. "You were going to tell us of your history?"

"By the Spirits, don't call him 'lord,'" Cara muttered. "His head's fat enough already."

"Of course. As I was saying, before my uncouth ruffian of a sister interrupted – "

Jennsen snorted. "You raised me. If I don't have manners, it's your fault."

"As I was saying," Rahl spoke over Jennsen. "I am the first child of Panis Rahl, and when I was born, my han was so powerful that a wizard called Carracticus, fearing what I would be capable of, attempted to kill me in the cradle with a horrible spell. It gave me a wasting sickness that even the Breath of Life could not repair. But his son was a great friend of my father's, and also a mage of some small powers, and they enacted a ritual to save me. A ritual of… blood magic. They called on the Keeper. And the Keeper… the Keeper answered."

Rahl's gaze had gone inward now, his voice a soft, silky rumble. "In exchange for the power to save my life, my father's friend, the son of my murderer, sacrificed himself. He died for me." Rahl shivered and Jennsen passed the hunting bow to Cara, getting up to press herself into her brother's side. Rahl turned his head to bury his nose in Jennsen's hair, their arms winding around each other.

"That man's name was Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander," Rahl continued, words muffled. "So you see, it's because of me. Zorander wasn't always a monster. He was given the Breath of Life after the ritual was complete, but gods don't like to be cheated and he came back… wrong."

-l-

When Darken was very young, he thought that Zeddicus was his mother. He didn't understand that men couldn't have babies, and he saw Zeddicus and his father kissing a few times. They were always kissing. And once, in Darken's hearing, Panis said something about how Zeddicus had given Darken life.

Besides, Zeddicus spent a lot of time with Darken, teaching him about magic, and the power of blood, and how to prepare sacrifices for the Keeper. Zeddicus wouldn't do that if he wasn't Darken's mother and didn't love him.

But then one day, Panis came in while Darken was holding a goat still so that Zeddicus could sacrifice it on the altar, and he got really angry and shouted at them. Zeddicus got mad too, and he said a lot of things that Darken didn't understand, but there was something about the Keeper and Panis not minding the blood magic when it was used to save his heir, and Darken screamed for Mother and Father to stop fighting, and then they both whirled on him and asked him what he was talking about, his mother was dead, and Darken ran away and hid so that no one would see him cry.

Later, when he was older, Panis warned him away from Zeddicus, told him the story of Zedd's sacrifice, of how it had changed him. He wasn't Zedd anymore, but Zorander.

"But you mustn't let him know that you are not heeding his teachings," Panis whispered. "He's too powerful now. And I… I'm wasting away."

It was true. Panis' eyes were sunken in, his skin waxy and spread thin over his bones. Neither of them ever said it aloud, but they both knew that it was Zorander's doing. Rahl magic was the only thing that could hold D'Hara, and Rahl magic was in the blood.

Zorander was a blood mage.

Darken never worked out the exact mechanics of it, because he didn't want to delve that far into the deep looking for answers. All that mattered was that somehow Zorander had seized the magic in Panis' blood, siphoning it off for his own, until Zorander was functionally the Lord Rahl.

The day that Darken sensed the transition was complete, Panis Rahl dropped dead, though not before telling Darken that he had fathered another child, one that a prophecy foretold would defeat Zorander and return justice to the three territories.

With his father gone, Darken should have inherited the throne of D'Hara. Instead, Mistress Serena, a Mord'Sith who had long been Zorander's lover, came and informed Darken that he was to stay in his rooms until Zorander called for him. For his own protection, of course. Darken was only nineteen, and Zorander had declared himself regent until such a time as Darken had finished a course of training at the Palace of the Prophets. Never mind that Darken had completed his apprenticeship at the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril the year before and, as heir of D'Hara, was never meant to go to the Sisters of the Light.

It was clearly a ploy. Sending Darken to the Old World would keep him out of the way for years, if he ever returned at all.

Darken fled the palace that night with the help of Mord'Sith still loyal to his family, and, with a plea to the Creator to forgive him, used one of the dark spells he'd learned from Zorander to find his prophesized sibling by scrying with his own spilt blood.

He was led to the town of Brennidon, to a little curly haired girl of one summer. She lived in a brothel with her mother, Taralyn, and her grandmother, Shota, who owned the establishment. When he explained who he was and why he was there, Shota and Taralyn told him about the slaughter of Brennidon.

On the orders of Zorander, D'Haran soldiers had descended en masse a year ago and killed every baby boy. Jennsen, the prophecy child, had escaped only because it had never occurred to Zorander that a little girl could be his undoing.

"I have to take her. Hide her. Train her against the day she must take up her destiny," Darken insisted. At the very least, he wanted to ensure that his sister didn't grow up to be a whore like her mother and grandmother, though he tactfully didn't say this part aloud. Prince of D'Hara or no, he had no doubt that Shota would box his ears.

Taralyn made to protest immediately, but Shota drew her away for a whispered conversation, repeatedly gesturing at Taralyn's stomach. Darken acquainted himself with his sister while the women argued.

She was a lovely child. Doe eyed and sweet, with a slightly upturned nose. She favored the looks of her grandmother, both of them pale with red hair, but her eyes… Her eyes were the same color as Darken's.

She sat in his lap and stroked the gold braiding on his vest, then put the trailing end of his blue velvet cloak sleeve in her mouth and suckled.

"Jennsen, no!" Taralyn exclaimed when she and Shota returned. "I'm sorry, my lord, she's cutting teeth."

"It is quite alright," Darken assured her.

"You're to take the child," Shota said abruptly. "Take her far from here and keep her safe. Keep her away from that, that, beast."

"Thank you," Darken said, and did.

He took Jennsen across the Boundary, for he knew that Zorander cleaved to the magic granted him by the Keeper, and would not follow into a land where sorcery held little sway and suspected practitioners were put to death. There, he settled in Hartland, taking the name Drefan and becoming a blacksmith's apprentice. He told the villagers that Jennsen was his daughter, and that he'd been married scarcely a year when his wife died in childbed.

He built a little house with magic, under the cover of night, and wove spells into the wood that made everyone who looked upon it remember it as having always been there. For Jennsen he created a garden. Princesses liked flowers, did they not? At least, all the ones of Darken's acquaintance did.

Jennsen believed that he was her father until she was old enough that Darken was certain she could keep a secret. When she was twelve, Darken told her the truth. She didn't speak to him for a week.

On the eighth day, she was waiting for him when he got home from the forge.

"I think that you must love me a great deal," she said baldly.

"You should trust that instinct," Darken told her. "You are the Seeker of Truth."

"Okay," Jennsen said, her face white and hands shaking. "Okay."

Darken gave her the sword.

-l-

"He trained me in secret, out in the woods where no one would see us," Jennsen picked up the narrative. Darken – Richard couldn't think of him as 'Rahl' just now, not after hearing his story – patted her hand with a fatherly tenderness. "For nine years I was Blacksmith Drefan's Little Girl when we were in the village. I learned to be a midwife, and I let Michael Cypher court me… But in the woods, I was the Seeker of Truth, and a Princess of D'Hara." She gave a wry grin. "Sometimes, I halfway convinced myself that it was all just a game that Darken and I played. A made up story to make us feel like heroes. And then the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen literally ran into me, and threatened me when I tried to help her."

Jennsen beamed at Cara, whose face lit up, and Richard thought, Huh.

Well at least one thing was consistent: the Seeker always loved the Confessor.

-l-

"You're a Confessor," Jennsen murmured, holding absolutely still. The woman in white – the beautiful, ethereal woman in white – was holding a dagger to her throat. Putting the white dress together with what Jennsen had witnessed the woman do to the soldiers chasing her, and remembering her lessons, Jennsen could only come to one conclusion. "Are you here for me?"

The Confessor narrowed her eyes, pulling the knife tighter against Jennsen's skin. "Why would I be here for you?"

Jennsen said, "Because I'm the Seeker of Truth."

A pause. "The Seeker of Truth is a man."

Jennsen was becoming embarrassingly aware of the feeling of the other woman's breasts against her back. "You'd be surprised how often I hear that," she wheezed. "I'm Jennsen Rahl. It's nice to meet you."

"Rahl?"

The Confessor released Jennsen, shoving her away none too gently. "I seek the Wizard Rahl."

Jennsen rubbed her throat. "He's my brother. I'll take you to him. On one condition."

The Confessor arched one golden brow. "And what is this condition?"

"Tell me your name."

Jennsen smiled her most winsome smile, the one that made Darken let her have a kitten and Michael forget what he was saying.

Cara was unmoved. Begrudgingly, she said, "Cara Mason."

"Come then, Cara. My house is this way."

She tried to take Cara's hand, but Cara jerked away and hissed, "Don't touch me!"

"Sorry," Jennsen apologized, clasping her hands in front of her. All at once, she felt very small, tossed upon a rising tide of panic. A Confessor coming to Hartland meant it was time. Time to take back D'Hara, as Darken was fond of saying. It was time to stop being Blacksmith Drefan's Little Girl and start being the Seeker and the Princess, and Jennsen was suddenly unsure of her ability to do either.

"I'm not used to it," Cara said when they were almost to the house, apropos of nothing.

Jennsen blinked. "What?"

"People touching me," Cara elaborated. "I'm not used to it."

"Oh," Jennsen said, her earlier grin returning.

-l-

"Cara Mason," Darken said when they'd entered the house. "It's been a long time since the years I spent in Aydindril. You were still clinging to your mother's skirts then. You've filled out nicely."

Cara looked Darken up and down. "You grew muscles. Though your personality doesn't seem to have changed, more's the pity."

They smirked at each other, and Jennsen experienced a moment of insane jealousy. Of course Cara would be interested in Jennsen's handsome, worldly, magical older brother. Of course she would. And Darken wouldn't even consider that Jennsen might want Cara, because she had never told him that she had a man's spirit.

That was what the villagers called it. Women who loved other women, and men who loved other men were said to have been born with the opposite gender's spirit inside them. Jennsen had always accepted that she had a man's spirit – she was the Seeker of Truth after all. Everyone knew the Seeker was always a man. So she must have a man's spirit. But Darken always got angry when he heard Jennsen speaking that way. He told her that in D'Hara, and other places in the Midlands, it was acceptable and normal for some women to prefer other women, and some men to prefer other men. Some people even liked both. And having a man's spirit had nothing to do with being a warrior. The Mord'Sith and Confessors, the two deadliest orders in all the three territories, were comprised entirely of women, after all.

Jennsen was never sure if she believed Darken. So many of his tales were so far outside her realm of experience that it was hard to conceive of a world where they were real. But now that she had seen Cara… well, Jennsen had always enjoyed Michael's attentions well enough, but something about Cara made her heart beat faster and her blood rush in her ears. She knew it was stupid, knew that Confessors couldn't enter physical relationships without confessing their partner, but she didn't care.

It was love at first sight.

"It is time," Darken was saying to Cara, a tone creeping into his voice that made the hairs on the back of Jennsen's neck stand on end. There was thunder in his words and lightning in his eyes, a tingle of power that made the air taste like rain. He waved his hands and his simple peasant garb faded away, replaced by a wizard's robe of blue velvet and brocade. It stretched across his wide shoulders, showing off the muscle working as a blacksmith had put on his arms and chest. This was Darken Rahl, Wizard of the First Order.

"Yes. It is time," Cara agreed. And she was just as imposing as Darken, with her flowing white dress and equally flowing hair. She was like a goddess, the Creator incarnate.

Cara and Darken looked like real heroes. Figures from legend.

And Jennsen? Jennsen was just a girl who played with her brother in the woods. The daughter of a whore.

But Darken passed her the Sword of Truth, and she strapped it to her hip just the same.

They left Hartland that night, and passed through the Boundary the next day.

-l-

Richard was silent, reeling from all that he had heard.

"Anything to add, Cara?" Jennsen asked when she had finished her tale.

"I was given the duty of protecting the Seeker by Mother Confessor Denna. My sister was killed just outside the Boundary. The rest you know."

The silence grew, stretching to the point of being uncomfortable.

"We have given you much to consider," Darken spoke at last. "We should all get some rest. Tomorrow you'll tell us about your world."

Richard didn't argue, just let himself be led around the camp by Jennsen while the Caras argued over who was going to stand watch. Eventually they worked out that neither would trust the other, and they would stand watch together. Mason was only willing to sleep if Darken was the one on guard while she rested.

Richard didn't care. Darken Rahl had dimples and laugh lines around his eyes, Zedd was a despot, and Richard was afraid to even ask about Kahlan. His thoughts spun in circles, his emotions in free fall, turning round and round like the needle of a compass that had lost true North.

He just wanted to sleep.

-l-

"Let me serve you, my lord," Mason's voice interrupted Richard's dreams.

There was the sound of cloth on cloth and a creak of leather.

"I'm sure you can tell how very interested I am in your, ah, service," came a deep, sensual growl. "But I would not have you lie with me out of obligation, my dear. I have never bedded a woman who did not desire me, and I've no intention of starting."

"Oh, I desire you. Please, my lord…"

"Darken."

"Please, Darken. Let me do this for you."

-l-

Rahl's look of smug satisfaction in the morning and the twinkle in Mason's eye made it obvious what they'd been up to the night before. Not surprisingly, this put Cara into a foul mood. Jennsen alternated between glowering at her brother and making soothing noises in Cara's general direction. Richard sympathized.

He was a little ways into the forest, looking for a place to relieve himself, when he overheard Cara and Jennsen talking.

"She would give you much pleasure, and gladly. You are a Rahl, and she is a loyal Mord'Sith. You could have her, and be happy."

Jennsen sighed. "Oh, Cara. I know she looks like you, and you share certain personality traits, but she isn't you. You're the woman I love."

"You're going to know that Richard and I have been intimate when the time comes, and try to forgive me. I do not want to deny you the… same consideration."

….Cara was going to bed him? She was planning on confessing him?! Richard's hand strayed to his sword.

"That's not the same thing at all, Cara. But you've made your offer now, and I've said no, so please let me kiss you?"

There were soft rustling noises, and then Jennsen's voice again, sounding farther away this time. "I do have to say one thing for my brother. He has excellent taste in women."

"You're wondering what they meant about Richard. Our Richard," Darken Rahl's voice came from nowhere. Richard spun to find the wizard standing behind him, having moved just as stealthily as his counterpart could. It triggered a sense of déjà vu so profound that Richard had to fist his hands and bite his tongue to remind himself that he wasn't fighting for his life at the base of a tower.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Richard started.

Rahl gave a predatory leer. "I did."

"Oh." Richard hadn't been expecting that.

Rahl stared off in the direction Jennsen and Cara had gone. "They weren't talking about you. They have an arrangement with our Richard," he explained without being asked. "Richard is pristinely ungifted and cannot be confessed. Cara has a duty to produce at least one child to continue her line. Jennsen asked, and Richard agreed to father a child with Cara that Jennsen and Cara can raise as theirs."

All the air whooshed out of Richard's lungs, and embarrassingly, he could feel his body stirring with arousal. "Oh," he said again, dumbly, imagining a world where he had a brother who could help him and Kahlan have a family. Imagining a world where he was pristinely ungifted, and Kahlan could have his child.

When Richard came back to himself, he was alone. Rahl had vanished as silently as he appeared.

-l-

Rahl made a delicious rabbit stew for lunch after blithely informing Richard that none of the ladies could cook – apparently Jennsen put too many beets in everything – and served them all bowlfuls of it with Mason trailing along behind him like a puppy. A vicious guard puppy that growled at everyone except her master, but still a puppy.

She gave Richard a piercing stare when Rahl approached to give Richard his share of the stew, and Richard was suddenly very glad that the Mord'Sith didn't know what he'd been thinking.

"It's your turn, Richard," Jennsen said, putting a piece of journey bread in her stew to soften. "Tell us about your world, and what happened to send you here."

Richard took a bite of stew to stall for time. He didn't think they would hold it against him that, save for Jennsen, they were enemies in his world, but… Well, he wouldn't lie about it. That would lead nowhere good, and Mason's presence made it all pretty obvious.

"In my world," Richard said slowly, his eyes on his soup bowl, "I'm the Seeker. Zedd is my teacher and the First Wizard, and my Confessor's name is Kahlan Amnell."

"Kahan?!" Cara burst incredulously. "Mistress Kahlan? Your Confessor is the Mord'Sith general who leads the attacks on Aydindril?"

Mason snorted and then laughed, her eyes sparkling and lips twisting in cynical merriment.

"What's so amusing, Mord'Sith?" Cara snarled at her.

"What do you think?" was Mason's answer. How did she make every expression seem edged with knives? Even when she was laughing, face bright, there was something about her, something that echoed with dying screams and spattered blood.

Cara's eyes widened, her face going as white as her dress. "You?"

Mason inclined her head. "Aydindril fell to my forces before the winter snow."

"And you serve your Darken Rahl?" Rahl interrupted before Cara could respond, coming to stand between the two women. He put a hand on Mason's shoulder, angling his body toward her, and she stilled, deferring to him. "Ah." Rahl turned to Richard. "I see now why you attacked me when you first woke. In your world… I'm the monster."

Richard nodded, lips pressed into a thin white line. "In my world, the prophecy is about us." He glanced at Mason. "You… I mean, Lord Rahl sent Mason to stop me from putting together the Boxes of Orden. I was going to use them to defeat him. She attacked me with her Agiel at the same moment I put the last box in place. When we woke up, we were here." He trailed off, shrugging. It was probably too much to hope that the Boxes of Orden had been transported with them. If they had, he'd have seen them by now.

Cara stood, her right hand outstretched in the pose of confession. She advanced on Mason. "If that's the case, why haven't you attacked again, Mord'Sith? Biding your time? Waiting for the opportunity to betray us?"

Richard was just about to intervene, but Jennsen beat him to it, stepping up to place a restraining hand on Cara's arm.

"Please," Mason scoffed. "Betray you to who? I serve Lord Rahl, as I have said, and here he is!" She gestured at Darken. "We aren't going to get home again. My Lord Rahl spent decades looking for the Boxes of Orden, and had only recently succeeded in locating all three. So unless you have them simply lying around, we're here to stay. So why not make a place for myself? I am Mord'Sith, and Mord'Sith know how to survive. My old life is gone." And here she paused to ogle Darken. "So I will make a new one. A better one. I will be the only Mord'Sith to remain true to the Rahls, and when you sit in the halls of the People's Palace again, I will be rewarded."

Ringing silence followed that speech.

Then, softly, Jennsen whispered, "I believe her."

"Me too," Richard muttered, just as softly.

"As always," Darken declared, "we must trust in the Seeker."

Cara narrowed her eyes, but did not argue. A Confessor could not read a Mord'Sith.

-l-

"If you harm the wizard," Richard heard Cara whisper to Mason when they were saddling the horses, "or Jennsen in any way, I will kill you."

The Mord'Sith smiled. "And I you, sister."

Cara flinched. "I had a sister. She's dead."

"As did I. Though in my world, I am the one who died. Mord'Sith do not have family. Only their Sisters of the Agiel."

"…And yet, you call me sister."

"Yes."

-l-

"We discussed your predicament this morning, while you were hunting," Darken told Richard, trotting his horse to bring it abreast of Richard's. They only had three horses, so Mason was mounted behind Darken Rahl, her arms around his waist, and Jennsen rode behind Cara.

Richard was alone.

"Oh?" Richard said, still finding it hard to look at Rahl and his Mord'Sith without mistrust.

Rahl nodded. "We are going to see the Witch Woman of Agaden Reach. I have heard of the Boxes of Orden, but only as a myth. If they exist in our world, Salindra will know, and may be able to tell us where they are."

Salindra? Richard wasn't familiar with the name, but he already knew Shota didn't have magic in this world, so he supposed it didn't matter.

"Thank you," Richard said. "For taking the time to help us."

Up ahead, he heard Cara snort.

Rahl cut his eyes in her direction, the corner of his mouth twisting. "There's one more thing. We're stopping to pick someone up on the way. Our Richard. When dealing with Salindra, it's good to have him nearby."

"Because he's pristinely ungifted?"

"My lord," Mason spoke up. "Magic cannot be used against a Mord'Sith. I can take care of this Witch Woman myself."

"It's not just that," Darken hedged, looking distinctly shifty-eyed.

Jennsen laughed, turning in the saddle to look back at them. "What my brother is trying not to say is that he and Salindra were lovers back when they were both apprentice mages at Aydindril, and every time they see each other she tries to talk him into fathering a brood of powerfully magical children who will take over the world." She laughed again at Richard's gobsmacked expression. "But if our little brother is there, she'll want him instead. After all, Richard was taught the art of love by the best. He's even serviced queens!"

"Jennsen!" Rahl cried out, falsely scandalized. "A princess does not speak of such things!"

"A princess is also supposed to use rhyming dactylic tetrameter when in the presence of men, but I'm not going to do that either," Jennsen retorted, wrinkling her nose.

"Serviced queens?" Richard choked out.

Jennsen's eyes went wide. "Oh."

"Ah," Darken echoed her. "You have to understand. I didn't know, when I went to get Jennsen, that Taralyn was already carrying another child of our father's. A boy. Our Richard was raised in a brothel, hidden amongst the other bastards whenever soldiers came calling, to keep anyone from discovering he was of the Rahl line."