Death's Mistress

CHAPTER 20

Bannon did not sleep well, despite the shelter of the cove and the familiar lullaby of the surf. Restless, he fought against swirling thoughts of all that had happened in the past few days, and fears of what might lie ahead.

Since he was awake, he volunteered to keep watch, brooding through the darkest hours of the night. He jumped at every sound in the darkness, fearing that burly, ruthless men would stride up the beach to seize him, to gag and bind him. But it was just his imagination … his memories.

While the beautiful sorceress slept on the sand not far from Nathan, Bannon called upon peace, reshaped the world the way he wanted it to be, and fashioned a contented smile for himself. The wizard looked unsettling as he lay near the waning fire, sound asleep but with his eyes open. Near dawn, though, his eyelids fluttered closed.

The young man roused his companions as morning light edged the high headlands. He was amazed at how instantly Nicci came awake without yawning or stretching. She rose to her feet, her blue eyes bright and alert, her expression clear as she absorbed her surroundings in a flash. She brushed sand off her black dress, and despite all the ordeals, didn’t look at all rumpled; that in itself seemed like sorcery to Bannon.

He’d been infatuated with pretty girls on Chiriya, but Nicci was unlike any woman he had ever met. She was more beautiful and intelligent than the young island women, but it was more than that. She seemed fascinating, but also dangerous. Bannon flushed with embarrassment when she caught him staring at her—and she stared right back, but with an expression that carried little warmth.

They set off into the wilderness together. After leaving the small cove behind, Bannon let out a silent sigh of relief to be away from the wreck of the ominous Norukai ship.…

“The beach gets rockier farther on,” Nicci said, scanning south along the shore. “We’d better travel inland.”

The wizard agreed. “That is where we’d likely encounter some settlement, since we haven’t seen any docks or boats on this section of the coast.”

“I’ll find a way for us to climb up,” Bannon volunteered. Scouting ahead at his own pace, he picked a feasible route, zigzagging up the crumbling sandstone cliffs. The other two followed him, hand over foot, and together they reached the open, windy flats above the surf.

The breeze was sharp and chilly, and thin clouds scudded across the sky. The tall pampas grass and low vegetation rippled as if some invisible stampede charged across the flatland. Dark green cypress trees hunched against the constant gale, their tufted branches pointed in the direction of the prevailing winds.

Nathan and Nicci discussed their plans, but the rustling breezes snatched their words from Bannon’s hearing as he scouted ahead. He was reluctant—or perhaps not brave enough—to make small talk with the beautiful sorceress. He wanted to hear where Nicci had grown up, if she’d had a perfect life, a peaceful upbringing, loving parents. Bannon didn’t need to know—didn’t want to know, actually. He just made it so in his own mind.

When Nathan startled a black-winged tern from a matted clump of grass, the old wizard bent down. “Ah, look, a nest—and better yet, three eggs.” He cradled them in his palms. “This can supplement our breakfast.”

Bannon came back, feeling his stomach growl. “Eggs? Are we going to make a new cook fire?” They had only been traveling for an hour.

Nicci took the eggs from Nathan’s hands. “No need to stop. Let me.” She wrapped her fingers around them, and Bannon saw tendrils of steam rise up. Within moments she handed him one of the eggs, and the shell was so hot that he had to juggle it in his hands. “We can eat as we walk,” Nicci said. “We have a long distance to cover—even if we don’t know where we’re going.”

Nathan finished his breakfast and tossed the crumbled eggshell to the ground. He dry-washed his hands and rubbed them on his pants.

From the outstretched headlands they could see the coastline snaking southward for miles. The hills inland were covered with dark pines and silver-leaved eucalyptus with peeling bark.

The three maintained a steady pace, and the wizard called to Bannon, “If you see any more signposts pointing the way to Kol Adair, my boy, be sure you let us know.”

Bannon cheerfully agreed, then realized Nathan was just teasing him. But was it such an unlikely possibility?

He ranged ahead, foraging, and wound his way through the bent cypress trees, then explored the stands of pine and the spicy-smelling eucalyptus. Seeing no sign of human habitation, the young man wondered if they were the first human beings to set foot on this untamed land. It felt wonderful, and it felt terrifying at the same time.

Chiriya Island had been settled for countless generations. The people grew their cabbages and set out in their fishing boats, and the only excitement was the occasional trading ship that tied up in the small harbor. He had long pretended that his younger years were perfect, with every neighbor waving a hearty hello, everyone chipping in to help one another, the weather always sunny, food on the table, a fire in the hearth on even the coldest winter nights.

He had left that place … a place that never really existed.

He was robbed in the dark alleys of Tanimura. He fought bloodthirsty selka and saw his shipmates slaughtered, certain that he, too, would die that night. But he had survived the Wavewalker being shipwrecked on an unknown shore. He had left Chiriya for this, had left his father’s hard fists and drunken shouts, had left the blood. And the kittens …

Bannon winced at the memories. He brushed aside tall, brittle blades of pampas grass, walked around a hummock, and ducked into a rustling tangle of cypress that offered shelter from the wind. Even with the fearful ordeals, this was better than Chiriya. Far better.

Exploring by himself, he entered the forest. He heard the chuckle of a creek flowing through the pines to a beautiful round pool with a smooth sandy bottom. He saw the silvery flashes of small fish darting around, evading his shadow. Bannon knelt in the weeds and flowers on the edge of the pond and scooped handfuls of the cold, clear water, drinking his fill. Fresh water!

He studied the darting fish, but they were much too small to bother with. A handful would barely make a meal, even if he could catch them. The water, though, was pure and delicious. He filled his waterskin and ducked out of the pines and eucalyptus into the brisk wind again.

Now that he had shaken his darker memories, Bannon felt light-footed as he continued to explore. Yes, he had suffered terrible hardships, but he would make the best of his situation. He reminded himself that he had left Chiriya intending to seek adventure—and he had found exactly that. A small, shadowed part of him acknowledged that he had fled his island in shock and denial at what had happened … but he drove those thoughts away again, blinking his eyes and looking at the bright world. He drew another clean breath.

“I am not running away—I am exploring!” he said aloud with enough force to convince himself. He was in an unknown land with a great wizard as his mentor, a man who taught him history and swordplay. And there was the mysterious and beautiful sorceress Nicci, who intruded more and more into his thoughts. He could not help but be attracted to her.

As he roamed the grassy headlands, he headed back toward the cliff edge to watch the white waves roll in. He wondered who Nicci was, what drove her. Did she think about him, too? Bannon pondered what he could do to make her notice him, to consider him a worthwhile traveling companion, instead of just a coincidental one.

Bannon peered over the verge and watched rooster tails of spray leap into the air. A flash of color caught his attention, wedged into the mossy sandstone just down the cliff, and he knelt to see a clump of unusual flowers growing within arm’s reach. The blossoms were vibrant, the deepest and most intense violet he had ever seen, shot through with veins of crimson and a central splash of yellow stamens. They had thick fleshy stems and swordlike green leaves.

The beautiful flowers gave him an idea, a perfect idea. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman!

Bannon stretched out, extending his arm over the edge to reach the blossoms. He picked four of them—a bouquet. It was a small gesture, but perhaps Nicci would be grateful. Perhaps she would notice him.

He bounded back through the grasses, searching for his companions, and he was panting hard by the time he caught up with them. The breezes blew his ginger hair wildly around his head as he hurried up to Nicci.

When he extended the flowers, all his suave words were snatched from his mouth as if the wind had stolen them. He could only manage to blurt, “I found these for you.”

She frowned with a glimmer of annoyance, but when she looked at the flowers, her expression filled with interest. She narrowed her blue eyes and reached out to take one of the flowers from his bouquet, leaving him with the other three. She showed extreme care as she touched the stem with just her fingertips.

Bannon waited for her to smile with delight or nod in warm appreciation. He couldn’t remember whether he had ever seen her respond with a genuine smile.

“Where did you find these?” she demanded.

“Over by the cliff.” He pointed. “Growing in a cranny in the rock.”

“Such flowers are rare. I could have made use of them many times.” She looked over at Nathan.

The wizard’s eyes were wide with recognition. “Do you know what those are, Bannon Farmer?”

“Pretty flowers?”

“Deathrise flowers,” Nicci said, studying the one in her hand.

Bannon looked at the rest of his bouquet, confused.

“Deathrise flowers,” she repeated. “One of the most dangerous plants in existence. They are extremely hard to find, and valuable. Assassins would pay a king’s ransom for these four. But this is far more than we could ever use.” She held up the stem in her hand. “One will be more than sufficient.”

“What—what do you mean?” Looking down at the violet-and-crimson flowers, he felt his skin crawl.

“Do you expect to kill an entire city, my boy?” Nathan asked. “Or maybe just a village?”

Bannon blinked, still trying to grasp what they were telling him. “You mean they’re … poison?”

Nicci’s face smoothed in a fascinated smile as she rolled the thick stem in her fingers, careful not to touch the broken end. “The deathrise flower has many uses. From the petals one can concoct an ink so lethal that any victim who reads a message written with such ink will die a painful, lingering death. Consuming even one seed causes a horrible agony that has been described as swallowing mouthfuls of glass shards, then regurgitating them, and swallowing them all over again.”

Bannon’s stomach twisted into a knot. “I—I didn’t mean…”

Nicci continued, “Tinctures, extracts, and potions can be made from all parts of the deathrise flower. Emperor Jagang had his alchemists and apothecaries test the various mixtures on his prisoners of war.” She raised her eyebrows. “About five thousand died in those preliminary experiments. The camps for the test subjects became known as the Places of Screaming. Emperor Jagang pitched his tent nearby so he could drift off to sleep listening to that music.”

Bannon felt sick. He stood trembling, looked down at the other three deathrise flowers in his hand, afraid to move his fingers.

“Even touching the juice to your skin will cause rashes and boils to break out.” Nicci looked at the single flower she had kept, obviously impressed although not in the way Bannon had wanted. “I thank you very much. One never knows when such measures might be required.” She wrapped the flower carefully in a scrap of cloth and tucked it into her pack. “I am pleased with how you think.”

Embarrassment—and the fear that his hands and arms were about to burst into leper’s sores or swollen boils—rendered him speechless. He turned and bolted headlong into the wind, running toward the pine trees, intent on reaching the pond and the stream again. When he reached the weeds of the shore he flung the deathrise flowers as far as he could out into the water, then dropped to his knees, plunged his hands into the pond, and dug his fingers into the sand. He scrubbed and scrubbed his palms, his fingers, the backs of his hands, his wrists, all the way up his arms. He frantically tried to remember any place he had touched with the deathrise flower. He filled his cupped palms, and was about to splash water in his face, but he didn’t dare go near his mouth or eyes.

Even when his hands looked clean, he plunged them into the sand again, scrubbing and scrubbing. He scoured his skin a third time and a fourth, until even his fingertips were raw, his palms pink, his knuckles sore. Finally, he stepped away, breathing hard, still afraid that the poison had gotten inside him.

He swallowed. What more could he do? He would find no antidote here … if an antidote even existed.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, he struggled to regain his composure. Finally, he left the pond and ran to catch up with Nicci and Nathan.

* * *

At dusk, four dwarf deer crept out of the eucalyptus forest where they had rested in the tangled shadows throughout the day. They ventured forth, their delicate hooves stepping on twigs while they worked their way along a faint game trail.

Though there were few large predators here on the coastal headlands, the deer possessed natural caution on their journey to the freshwater pond where they drank each night at sunset. The deer approached the shore, uncertain and skittish. They took several steps, then paused, their ears flickering to detect any threat, then moved forward again. One hung back as a sentinel while the other three stepped to the pond’s edge.

The deer sensed something amiss. The water was smooth and clear as always, but they noticed, without comprehension, the glimmering silver shapes that drifted on the surface of the pond. Hundreds of the small fish that had darted like small mirror flashes in the last sunlight now floated belly-up like a stain on the water.

The deer struggled to understand what had changed. Frozen like statues in the forest, they waited for long minutes, but nothing approached, nothing attacked. Finally, one of the deer dipped into the water and drank. The next two joined her, drinking their fill. When it was his turn, the sentinel buck also drank, and the twilight shadows deepened around them.…

By the next morning numerous fish still drifted on the surface, though some of the bodies had begun to sink. On the shore, four dwarf deer also lay dead.