Page 29 of Death's Mistress (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 1)

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.

CHAPTER 22

After they traveled for three more days, the headlands shifted to forested hills and fertile grasslands. Bannon nervously kept his distance from Nicci and spent even more time with the wizard. Though she spoke no more of the incident, Nicci was inwardly relieved that he had learned his lesson.

She heard Nathan telling the young man tidbits of history or ruminating about his time locked in the Palace of the Prophets. Some of the legends sounded absurd to Nicci, as d

id events in the wizard’s own life, but Bannon had no filter to determine what might or might not be true. He lapped up each of Nathan’s tales like a cat facing a bowl of cream. At least it kept the two occupied as they trudged along, which Nathan did his best to document on the rudimentary map in his life book.

On the fifth day, they came upon a path that was too wide and well traveled to be a game trail. Ahead, they saw stumps where trees had been cut down.

Bannon cried out, “That means people have been here!”

The trail soon widened into a footpath, then an actual road. Coming over a rise, they could see the hills spilling down to a neat, rounded bay into which a narrow river drained. A large village of wooden homes, shops, and warehouses had sprung up on both sides of the river. A high wooden bridge joined the two banks. Piers thrust into the water, providing docks for small boats in the bay. A point of rocky land swooped around the far end of the harbor, punctuated with a lookout tower.

The hills held terraced gardens and pastures where sheep and cattle grazed. Down by the docks, people were unloading a catch from the fishing boats. Stretched nets hung on frameworks drying in the sun. High on the beach, five overturned boats were being repaired by shipwrights.

“I was beginning to think we’d have to walk around the entire world,” Nathan said.

Nicci nodded. “We’ll find out where we are, and choose our next course. We can inform them of Lord Rahl’s rule, and maybe someone here can tell us where to find Kol Adair.”

“I assume you are anxious to save the world, Sorceress,” Nathan said. “As anxious as I am to be made whole again.”

Nicci’s mouth formed a hard, straight line. “I will reserve judgment on just how seriously to take the witch woman’s words.”

Nathan frowned down at his shirt, disappointed by the now limp and ruined ruffles of the garment he had purchased in Tanimura less than two weeks earlier. “At the very least, a town that size should have a tailor who can replace my clothes. I hate to feel so … scruffy.”

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