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

“You are ever the optimist, Sorceress,” he said. “I concur.”

For now, as the sun set over the delta of the Kern River and the tide began to go out, they went back up on deck to watch the preparations for departure.

Captain Eli shouted orders as his crew climbed the masts and crawled out on yardarms to unfurl sails. Others slipped thick hawsers from dock posts and loosed the ropes from stanchions on the pier. Hour bells rang from towers along the harbor.

She still had not seen Bannon Farmer aboard, and she feared the young redhead had blundered into another group of cutthroats in an alley and had suffered the fate she expected him to.

Just as the sailors prepared to lift the Wavewalker’s boarding ramp, though, a young man with long ginger hair bounded down the dock. “Wait for me, I’m coming! Wait! Wavewalker, wait!” Nicci noticed that he was now carrying a sword, which bounced and slapped against his thigh as he ran.

Bannon raced along as merchants and dockworkers scattered out of the way. He bumped into a reeling, drunken sailor who couldn’t seem to remember where his own ship was, but Bannon spun past him and ran up the boarding ramp. His fellow sailors laughed, and a few exchanged coins. “I told you he’d be too foolish to jump ship when he had the chance.”

Captain Eli gave Bannon a scolding look. “Some of our crew were betting you’d be a one-voyage sailor, Mr. Farmer. Next time don’t be late.”

“I wasn’t late, sir.” Bannon panted hard, swiping his loose hair out of his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with the effort. “I’m just in time.”

When Bannon noticed Nicci, his face brightened, and the broad grin only emphasized the growing bruise on his smashed lips. “You’re here! You came. Welcome aboard the Wavewalker.”

“It seems we will be passengers. This ship is going where we need to travel.” She took a breath, then added, “Thank you for the recommendation.”

He held up his plain, unadorned sword. “See, I found a blade. Just like I said.”

The other sailors joked. One said, “Some might call that a sword—I’d call it a grass cutter.” Another said, “Who do you intend to impress with that ugly thing? A blind woman? Or maybe a farmer who needs to chop down tall weeds.”

They all guffawed.

Bannon frowned at his clunky sword, then re-formed his expression into a cheery grin. “A sword doesn’t have to be pretty to be effective at killing,” he said, repeating Nicci’s earlier words. “It’s a sturdy sword.” He held it up. “In fact, that’s what I will name it. Sturdy!”

Captain Eli cut him off. “Enough showing off your sword, Mr. Farmer. Right now, I need your hands and your muscles on the rigging ropes. I want to be clear of the ships in the harbor and out in the open water before night falls.”

Standing beside her at the starboard rail, Nathan mused, “Well, we are on our way, Sorceress. To Kol Adair, wherever it is.” He gave her a wry grin. “I think I’m already starting to feel whole again.”





CHAPTER 8

The sea was calm and dark, and the full moon rose like a bright torch as the Wavewalker glided out of Grafan Harbor. The three-masted carrack cruised past the chain of islands that strung out past Halsband Island, which now held only the pulverized rubble of the Palace of the Prophets.

After they had left the glowing lights of Tanimura, the night sky became a deep velvet black. Nicci stood on deck and looked up, trying to find new patterns among the bright stars that had shifted in the universe.

The canvas sails strained tight, creamy white as the full moon shone on them. The ropes glistened with a thin film of night dew. The carved figurehead of the Sea Mother stared forward with wooden eyes, as if watching out for hazards ahead.

Bannon came up to her near the bow, smiling shyly. “I’m glad you decided to come with us aboard the Wavewalker.”

“And I am glad that you survived Tanimura.” Nicci couldn’t tell whether he had learned any wariness or common sense from his time in the city. “It has been a day full of surprises.”

He still proudly clung to his new blade. “You were right about the sword, that it needs to be serviceable, not pretty. And sturdy. It needs to be sturdy.” He held the weapon as if it had become his most prized possession, turning it back and forth as he watched the moonlight play along the discolored blade. He swept it sideways in a practice stroke. “I can’t wait for a chance to use it.”

“Do not be so eager for that, but be ready if need be.”

“I will. Do you have a sword of your own?”

“I don’t need one,” Nicci said.

His expression fell as he was suddenly reminded of what she had done to the thugs in the alley. “No, I doubt you would. I saw you hurl that man and smash his head against the wall. It cracked open like a rotten pumpkin! And that other man … you turned his neck to jelly! I don’t even know what you did to the third one.” Bannon shook his head. His eyes were wide. “I was trying to fight him for you, but he just … died.”

“That is what happens when you stop a person’s heart.”

“Sweet Sea Mother,” Bannon whispered. He brushed his hair back. “You saved my life, no doubt about that, and you were right—I was too innocent. I should never have blundered into a situation like that. I expect the world to be a nice place, but it’s darker than I think.”

“It is,” Nicci said.

“It’s darker than I want it to be.”

Nicci wondered if the young man had stolen some of the captain’s dream weed. “Better to see the dangers in the world and be ready when someone inevitably turns on you. It is a far preferable surprise to find that a person is kinder than you think, than to discover he is secretly a traitor.”

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.

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