Death's Mistress

by Terry Goodkind

  Troubled expressions circled the young man’s face like eddy currents. “I suppose you’re right, and I want to thank you again. I owe you.” He fumbled in the pockets of his canvas trousers. “I brought you something. To show my gratitude.”

  Nicci frowned at him. “That is not necessary. I saved your life because I was in the right place, and because I despise those who prey on the weak.” She had no intention of letting this young man fawn over her. “I do not want your gifts.”

  He withdrew a tiny fold of soft cloth that he held in the palm of his hand. “But you have to take it.”

  “It is not necessary,” Nicci repeated, in a harder voice this time.

  “I think it’s necessary.” Bannon sounded more determined. He set his sword aside awkwardly, squatted against the side wall of the ship, and opened the cloth to reveal a pearl the size of a grieving woman’s tear.

  “I do not want your gifts,” Nicci reiterated.

  Bannon refused to listen. “On Chiriya Island I was taught manners and gratitude. My parents wanted me to be polite to everyone and to meet my obligations. You were there when I needed you. You saved me, and you punished those evil men. My father said that if I was to be an upstanding man, I had to show gratitude. It doesn’t matter whether you expect anything in return. I am required to give it to you.”

  His breathing quickened as he extended the pearl. It seemed to be made of silver and ice. “This is a wishpearl, an advance on my wages. The captain says we’ll have plenty before the end of the voyage, but I wanted it now.” He nodded intently. “Right now it’s very rare, and I want to give it to you.”

  A sailor on watch strolled past. “Rare?” His voice had a mocking tone. “That’s just a leftover. We unloaded two chests full of them in Tanimura—it’s how Captain Eli paid for his whole voyage. Soon enough, we’ll fill more chests on our way down south.”

  Bannon whirled to face the eavesdropping sailor, clenching his hand tight over the wishpearl. “I was having a private conversation.”

  “This is a ship, cabbage farmer! Think again if you expect privacy anywhere on board.”

  Defensive, Bannon picked up his sword. “It’s worth something now, and it’s the last wishpearl. I want to give it to the sorceress, and if you don’t treat her well, she’ll crush your windpipe and stop your heart. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  The sailor laughed again and strolled off.

  Though Nicci did not want the offering, she understood the complexities of obligations. She had indeed saved him, although she had not set out to do so. “If you’ve learned your lesson and taught yourself not to become a victim, Bannon Farmer, then that is demonstration enough of your gratitude.”

  “Not enough for me,” Bannon insisted, and extended the wishpearl again. “Just take it. Throw it overboard if you like, but I will have done what was right. I fulfilled what I needed to do.”

  The pearl felt slippery and cold in her fingertips. She rolled it back and forth on her palm with a fingertip. “If I accept this pearl, what does it obligate me to do for you? What are you expecting?”

  Bannon flushed, deeply embarrassed. “Why, nothing! I would never ask … that isn’t what I was thinking!”

  She hardened her voice. “As long as you’re clear on that.”

  “It’s a wishpearl. Don’t you know what a wishpearl is?”

  “I do not. Is there some significance other than being a pretty bauble?” Seeing that she had hurt him, Nicci grudgingly softened her voice. “It is a beautiful pearl. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a finer one.”

  “It’s a wishpearl,” he repeated. “You should make a wish. It might be just a legend, but I’ve heard that wishpearls are concentrated dreams and you can unleash one if you wish on it.”

  “Who would believe such a thing?” Nicci asked.

  “Many people. That’s why the Wavewalker makes such a profit on each voyage. Captain Eli knows the location of a long line of special reefs. He harvests wishpearls and sells them in the port cities—at least that’s what the other sailors said.” He lowered his voice and ducked his chin. “This is still just my first voyage, you know.”

  Nicci held the wishpearl, thought of where they were going, of the mission the witch woman had given to Nathan. No doubt it would be a long journey. She looked down at the icy silver sphere under the moonlight and said, “Very well, then I wish this voyage will help us get to Kol Adair.” She closed her fingers around the pearl and slipped it into a small pocket in her black dress.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Wavewalker headed south across open water, beyond sight of the coastline. Having spent so much time sitting alone in the Palace of the Prophets, Nathan was accustomed to sedentary days, but at least now he was out in the fresh air, inhaling brisk breezes.

  In the distance, Tanimura was only a memory—a thousand years of memories, as far as he was concerned. Time to make new memories. Red possessed the life book of his past, but he had a new volume for a whole new set of adventures. Now, without the gift of prophecy, every twist and turn of the future was a surprise to him. Exactly as it should be.

  The captain and his crew knew how to guide the ship even when the winds did not blow in a favorable direction. The well-practiced sailors understood the intricate puzzle of how the rigging and the sails worked together, furling and unfurling canvas to catch any wisp of wind. It was like magic to Nathan, even though there was no magic beyond a well-seasoned familiarity with the mysteries of the sea.

  Most of the crew had been with Captain Eli on numerous voyages, and each sailor had a job to do—except for the five shirtless, tattooed men who lay about and did nothing. Watching their lazy behavior and attitude, Nathan lost respect for them, and not simply because they leered so much at Nicci. They displayed no interest in participating as members of the crew. He supposed the arrogant men must have their purpose, or the captain wouldn’t tolerate them on board. For now, though, they were primarily useless.

  Bannon Farmer was the newest sailor on the Wavewalker and thus received the least-pleasant chores, dumping out slops, pumping the bilge, scrubbing the deck with a bucket of salt water and a stiff hand brush. But he performed the drudgery with a strange cheer.

  Nathan watched the young man climb the ratlines and stand on the high platform to serve as a lookout, or crawl out on a yardarm to loose a sail. Once Bannon finished his chores, he would sit next to the wizard in the lazy afternoons, asking questions. “Have you really lived a thousand years? What fascinating things you must have done!”

  Nathan patted the life book at his side. “I am more interested in what I have yet to do.” He gave the thin redhead an encouraging smile. “But I’ll be happy to tell you some of my stories, if you will tell me yours.”

  Bannon’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t have any stories to tell. Nothing’s ever happened to me.” Looking away, he rubbed the discolored bruises on his face. “Why do you think I ran away from Chiriya? I had a perfect life there, loving parents, a warm home. But it was too quiet and calm for a man like me.” When he forced a smile, he winced from the scab on his still-healing split lip.

  “I planted the cabbage fields in spring, weeded the cabbage fields all summer, harvested the cabbage in fall, and helped my mother make pickled cabbage for winter. There was no chance to have an adventure.” He lifted his chin. “My father was very sad to see me go, because he was so proud of me. Maybe someday I’ll return as a wealthy and famous adventurer.”

  “Maybe.” Nathan detected something odd in the young man’s words.

  Bannon brought out his own sword as he sat on deck next to Nathan. Its steel wasn’t perfect, but the edge was sharp enough. “I still think Sturdy will serve me well.”

  Since the young man seemed to expect sage advice, Nathan decided to give it. “A blade can only serve its wielder if he knows how to use it. You serve the sword just as the sword serves you.” He withdrew his own blade from its scabbard to admire the fine workings on the grip, the inlaid gold, t
he gleam of the expensive steel. He had always felt that it made him look bold and gallant, a man to be reckoned with, a warrior as well as a wizard. Standing, he held the blade in front of him, watching the play of sunlight along its edge. He gave the young man a hard look. “Do you know how to use your sword, my boy?”

  “I know how to swing a blade,” Bannon said.

  “We’re not cutting cabbages. What if you were fighting against a bloodthirsty warrior from the Imperial Order? Or worse, one of the flesh-eating half men from the Dark Lands?”

  Bannon paled. “I’m sure I could take down at least five of them before they killed me.”

  “Only five? So I would have to deal with the thousands that remained?” Nathan flexed his arms and bent his knees in his supple new travel pants. “Why don’t we practice? I could use a good training partner. I’ll teach you a few moves, so that if you ever find yourself facing a savage enemy horde, you could maybe kill fifteen of them before they took you down.”

  Bannon grinned. “I’d like that.” A troubled expression crossed his face. “Well, I don’t mean I’d like being killed, but I would like to make a brave accounting of myself if I were ever in a great battle.”

  “Those fighting at your side would like you to make a brave accounting as well, my boy.” Nathan stroked his chin with his left hand. “I may be a thousand years old, but I’m relatively new at being an adventurer. A sword looks so … dashing, don’t you think?” He held up the point.

  “Your sword is fine, sir,” Bannon admitted. “But will a fine sword and a dashing appearance frighten away a horde of monsters?”

  “I suppose not,” Nathan said. “Maybe we both could use the practice.” He wrapped his hands around the hilt and tried different stances. “Shall we learn together, Bannon Farmer?”

  Grinning, the young man lifted his sword and stepped back to crouch into a fighting stance, or at least the best imitation of a fighting stance he could manage.

  When Nathan swung, Bannon slashed sideways to meet the blade, but Nathan had to adjust the sweep of his arc to insure that their swords met with a clang. Then he struck backward, hitting the young man’s blade as it came up in defense. In a flurry of attack, Bannon swung and chopped, flailing from side to side.

  The wizard scolded, “Are you a woodsman trying to clear a forest?”

  “I’m trying to slay a thousand enemy soldiers!”

  “An admirable goal. Now let’s try a combination of strokes and jabs and deflections.”

  Bannon responded with another wild combination of slashes and counterslashes, which the wizard easily met, although he was by no means a master swordsman himself. In any confrontation, Nathan would always rely on magic as his first line of attack rather than a sword, but to teach the cocky young man a lesson, he worked his way through Bannon’s defenses and smacked him on the bottom with the flat of his blade.

  Stung, Bannon yelped, his face flushing so crimson that even his freckles vanished. “You’ll pay for that, Wizard!”

  “Take my payment on credit,” Nathan said with a proud smirk. “It may be quite some time before you can make me fulfill the debt.”

  Some of the other sailors observed, amused by the swordplay. They howled with laughter. “Look at the cabbage farmer!” snorted Karl, a muscular veteran of many voyages, who considered it his duty to make sure Bannon was well initiated.

  “Indeed, look at him,” Nathan called back. “Soon enough you’ll be afraid of him.”

  Attacking again, Bannon released a bottled-up anger that startled Nathan, even frightened him. Ducking and defending himself, the wizard chided, “Show control as well as enthusiasm, my boy. Now then, let’s do it slowly. Watch me. Match my strokes.”

  The two practiced for an hour in the hot sun, sweating with exertion. After Nathan had led him through several fluid but basic exercises, Bannon began to grow more confident with his weapon. He was bright-eyed and grinning as they picked up speed. The ring of blades brought out most of the crew to watch.

  Finally panting with exhaustion, Nathan raised his hand to signal a halt. “Dear spirits, you’ve had as much instruction as you can handle for one day. I’d better give you time to absorb what you’ve learned.” He tried to control his heavy breathing so Bannon would not notice how winded he was.

  The young man’s hair was damp with perspiration, but the sea breezes blew it in all directions. He showed no sign of being ready to give up.

  Nathan continued, “Maybe it’s time for me to tell stories and teach you a bit about history. A good swordsman is also an intelligent swordsman.”

  Bannon kept his sword up. “But how will a story from history teach me to be better with my blade?”

  Nathan smiled back at him. “I could tell you the tale of a poorly skilled swordsman who had his head chopped off. Would that be a good enough object lesson?”

  Bannon wiped his brow and sat on a mound of coiled rope. “Very well then, let’s hear the tale.”

  * * *

  Nicci spent the day at the ship’s stern in Captain Eli’s large chart room on the piloting deck. The captain had opened up twin windows at the rear to let in fresh breezes. The view of the ocean behind them showed a curl of foamy wake as the Wavewalker sailed along. The line of stirred water reminded Nicci of the broad imperial roads that Jagang had built across the Old World, but while Jagang’s roads would endure for a long time, this watery path faded as soon as the ship passed.

  “I would like to study your charts and maps,” she told the captain. “As an emissary for Lord Rahl, I must see the far reaches of the Old World, where the Imperial Order conquered. That is all part of D’Hara now.”

  Captain Eli toyed with his long-stemmed pipe, tapping its bowl on the hard wood of a map table. “Many captains keep their routes confidential, since the swiftest passage means money for a trader. I once knew the currents and the reefs and the shoreline so very well.” He sucked on the end of his pipe, musing to himself, but he didn’t light it inside the chart room, lest a stray ash catch the maps on fire. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I am not your competition, Captain,” Nicci said. “I have no interest in a map of the ocean. I want to know the coastline and the landscape inland. My companion and I are searching for a place called Kol Adair.”

  “Never heard of it. Must be far inland, and any place away from shore doesn’t have much meaning for my life.” He scratched the side of his face. “But I did not mean you were my competition. I meant that the current maps don’t matter because all is changed, you see. Everything’s different now.

  “In the last two months the currents have shifted. The wind patterns that I knew so well have now changed direction, as if the seasons are all mixed up.” He let out a long groan. “And the stars at night are in the wrong places. How am I supposed to navigate? My astrolabes and sextants are useless. My constellation maps don’t show the same stars. Sweet Sea Mother, I don’t even know if the compass points true north anymore. I am making my way by instinct.”

  Nicci knew full well what had happened. “It is a new world, Captain. Prophecy is entirely gone. Magic has changed in ways that we haven’t begun to fathom.” Then she turned her bright blue gaze toward his, and drew a breath of the damp air as a breeze rippled the papers on the chart table. “But someone has to be the first to make new star charts, the first to map out the changed currents, and the first to discover the best places to drop anchor. You can be one of those firsts, Captain.”

  “That would be a wonderful thing … if I fancied myself an explorer.” The captain scratched his trim of a beard around his jaw. “But my ambition has always been to serve as a successful cargo captain going from port to port. I have families to support, many children. I see little enough of them as it is, and I want to be able to arrive on time.”

  “Families?” she asked. “More than one?”

  “Of course.” Captain Eli ran his fingers over his dark hair, tucking a silver-shot lock behind his ear. “I have a wife a
nd two daughters in Tanimura, a younger wife and three sons at Larrikan Shores, and a very beautiful one in Serrimundi, the daughter of the harborlord.”

  “Do they know about your other families?” Nicci asked. “Is this an unusual arrangement among sea captains?”

  “I take care of each one in turn, wherever I go. Every wife has a fine house. Each of my sons or daughters is comfortable, with food, shelter, and an education. Most sailors and captains would simply visit the brothels at every port city, and I know of many a captain who caught a loathsome disease and gave it to his wife when he came home.” Captain Eli stared out at the endless sea behind the stern. “No, that’s not for me. I have chosen my wives, and I am faithful to them. I am an honorable man.”

  Considering the countless women Emperor Jagang had taken, including her, and how he had thrown Nicci and others into the tents to be raped again and again by his soldiers, she did not judge Captain Eli Corwin. She had never felt any inclination to be a man’s wife, or one of his wives, except for the time she had forced Richard Rahl to pretend to be her husband. Nicci had imagined a perfect domestic existence, sure that she could convince him to adopt the philosophy of the Imperial Order. That had been not only a lie, but a bitter lie, and Richard had hated her for it.

  Unconsciously, Nicci rubbed her lower lip, still imagining the long-healed scar there from Jagang’s gold ring. Nicci had never realized that her sick dream of forcing Richard to be her husband was a delusion as foolish as Bannon Farmer’s imagined perfect world.

  Fortunately, she was a different person now. After living secretly as a Sister of the Dark for so many years, then being enslaved by Jagang, broken, then rebuilt—but rebuilt wrong, until she was finally fixed by Richard—she understood everything better now. Nicci owed Richard more than she could ever repay. And he had given her a mission.

  “Let me see your charts nevertheless,” she said, driving away the memories. “The more I know about the Old World, the more I know for Lord Rahl’s sake.”