Death's Mistress

CHAPTER 21

They camped in the shelter of thick cypress. During the night, the maddening, mournful breezes died down, which allowed a thick fog to settle in. The cold wet swaths made the three miserable while they huddled near a small fire, adding more moist twigs in an attempt to keep the blaze going. Nicci used her magic to maintain the fire, but the flames gave out too little heat.

Nicci had never been overly concerned with her personal comfort, so long as she could function. Now that they’d been shipwrecked on the unknown coast, despite the unexpected rock cairn reaffirming their destination of Kol Adair, she could not guess how many miles they might need to walk before they found a settlement in this wild coastal wasteland.

Despite the solitude, Nicci reminded herself that this land, bleak and untamed as it was, was now part of the D’Haran Empire. Nicci was doing what she had promised Lord Rahl, and she would, in fact, walk from one end of the world to the other for him, if that proved necessary. But neither she nor Nathan could continue their quest until they actually found a village or city.

Finally, morning brightened the murk, and Nicci stopped wasting effort to keep the useless fire going. “We should get moving. That will generate heat.”

Nathan used the tortoiseshell comb to untangle his long white hair. “I don’t know if even running will keep us warm enough.” He looked in disappointment at his moist and rumpled shirt. “I never realized how many ways I relied on my gift. A little internal magic could always keep me warm on a blustery, miserable day like this.”

Nicci shouldered her makeshift pack. “We won’t be any colder than we are now, and at least we’ll cover distance.”

Bannon squinted into the fog. “But can we see where we’re going?”

“We’ll see when we get there,” Nicci said.

Nathan tucked away his life book in the leather pouch and fastened the flap. “I doubt I can add much detail to my map today.”

They headed out. Guided by the rush and boom of the ocean off to their right, they walked far enough from the edge to stay safe. “I’m not so much worried about falling off a cliff, as I am of reaching the edge of the world,” Bannon said, panting. “Then we would just fall forever.”

Nathan lifted his bushy eyebrows. “You believe we’ll find the actual edge of the world, my boy?”

“I’ve seen maps that cut off.…”

“If we find the edge of the world, then we will know that we’ve come to the boundaries of Lord Rahl’s empire.” Nicci did not waste time or effort worrying about such things. “Then we will turn and explore in a different direction.”

“I hope we find Kol Adair before then,” Nathan said.

Ever since offering her the deathrise flowers, the young man had seemed subdued. Before she rebuffed him, Nicci had noted the bright gleam in his eyes, recognizing that he was probably smitten with her—and those feelings were woefully misplaced. His imagination was already too active.

Nathan had a certain fondness for the young man. Despite the thousand-year difference in their ages, the two had much in common, since even the old wizard had a flash of naiveté about him.

The fog thinned for an hour as they continued, but the chill deepened. Bannon shivered. “Maybe we should go inland to the thicker forest, where at least the trees will shelter us.”

Nicci shook her head and kept going. She walked in a straight, determined line, defeating the distance as if it were an enemy. “If we follow the coastline, we’ll be more likely to discover a river outlet or a port. And we can see farther ahead, once the fog clears.”

Nathan kept his eyes to the ground, preoccupied with finding berry bushes, wild onions, or bird’s nests and breakfast eggs. Bannon ranged ahead like a dutiful scout.

The wind went quiet again and the fog closed in, so that Nicci didn’t see the young man until he was right beside her. He looked sheepish, smiling for the first time since the debacle of offering her deathrise flowers. This time, Bannon held a handful of orange lilies on long stalks. “I found these for you, Sorceress. I hope you like them better than those poison blossoms.”

Nicci regarded him coolly. “But I valued the deathrise flower. I told you in great detail about all its uses.”

“These are pretty flowers, though,” Bannon said, extending them toward her. “Grass lilies. They used to grow all over Chiriya. They won’t last long after they’ve been picked, but I wanted you to have them.” When Nicci did not reach out to accept them, his expression faltered. “Are they not to your liking?”

She recognized that Bannon Farmer was competent enough, and he had proven his mettle in fighting the selka. She would let him accompany her for as long as she considered him useful, or at least not a hindrance. She could imagine far worse company, but she had to nip his infatuation in the bud.

She realized that her response to his clumsy offering yesterday had not been a sufficient rebuff. She had to set him straight, or she would have to kill him sooner or later.

Nicci recalled all the times she’d been abused, forced to spend weeks with Jagang’s soldiers as a plaything for their sadistic enjoyment, as well as the times when Jagang had taken her himself, sometimes beating her bloody. With her twisted experience of so-called love, she had convinced herself she was in love with Richard Rahl. Back then, she had been a Sister of the Dark, corrupted by her service to the Keeper as well as her brutal enslavement by the emperor. Her attempt to express that misguided love for Richard—forcing him to live a false life with her as man and wife—had only made Richard resent her more.

Nicci had eventually learned her lesson. She herself had killed Jagang, and now she served Richard wholeheartedly, in her own way. She knew that she did love Richard, that he was the only man she could love … but it was a different kind of love now. He had Kahlan, and he would never be satisfied with Nicci, not in that way, no matter how much he respected and valued her. Because of her iron-hard devotion, Nicci had made up her mind to conquer the Old World for Richard Rahl—single-handedly if necessary.

She had no time or patience for a young mooncalf who thought she was pretty.

Bannon beamed when Nicci reached toward the flowers, but instead of accepting them, she wrapped her grip around his wrist. Clenching tight, she released a warning flow of magic that sent a sharp tingle into his flesh like a hailstorm of steel needles.

His hazel eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open in shock. Before the young man could say anything, Nicci spoke through gritted teeth. “I am only letting you stay with us because Nathan likes you, and because you may be useful in helping us get where we need to go. But know this”—she lowered her voice to a growl—“I am not some fawning village girl looking for a stolen kiss.”

His fingers spasmed and he let the lilies fall to the ground. Nicci didn’t even glance at them. She maintained her tight grip on his arm.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Sorceress!”

She had to drive the point home, so that the problem did not occur again. She didn’t soften her voice at all. “We face serious problems. We are lost, and we must find out where we are in order to continue our mission. If you ever get in my way, I will skin you alive without a second thought.”

He gawked at her with just the proper amount of terror and dismay, which would resolve itself into appropriate respect soon enough. She would not need to worry about this nonsense from him again.

She let go of his wrist, and Bannon flexed his hand, flapping it as if to fling away the pain. He stammered, “But—but … I only—”

She had no wish to be part of his starry-eyed view of the world or his nostalgia for a peaceful island home. “I’ve heard the stories you tell yourself. I am not part of your perfect boyhood. Do you understand me, child?” She used the last word intentionally.

His fearful expression suddenly darkened, as if she had torn the scab off a still-festering wound. “It wasn’t perfect. It was never perfect.” Looking ashamed, he turned away to find Nathan standing there with a concerned and compassionate look on his face.

Nicci didn’t interfere as the wizard put a comforting hand on Bannon’s shoulder. “Best you understand the way of things, my boy. Remember, she was called Death’s Mistress.”

Bannon walked away, his expression downcast. Heading off into the thickening mist, he said, “No. I will never forget that.”

The fog melted around him.