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

Hundreds of thousands of jellyfish floated on the surface like soap bubbles, each one as large as an ox’s head, throbbing like jellied brain tissue. The mindless translucent creatures posed no threat that Nathan could see as the Wavewalker cruised along and nudged them aside. Some of the jellyfish splattered against the hull boards and left a glutinous film, but the rest simply bobbed out of the way.

Captain Eli stood on deck, cautious. “Steady onward. If it was a sea serpent or a kraken, I’d be worried, but those jellyfish are just a nuisance.”

Bannon stared in wonder. He turned to his mentor, flushed. “I never saw the likes of these on Chiriya, but other kinds of jellyfish would drift close to shore in the quiet coves … where a boy and his friend might go swimming. They sting!” He let out a wistful sigh, dreaming of home. “Ian and I had our own special lagoon where there were tide pools. The water was just right for wading, but we didn’t see the jellyfish. We both got terribly stung once. My leg swelled up like a week-old pig carcass, and Ian was even worse. We could barely walk home. My father was angry because I couldn’t work in the cabbage fields for days afterward.”

The young man’s expression darkened, and then, like clouds parting, he smiled again. “We all had a good laugh about it.” He blew air between his lips. “And those jellyfish were only the size of my fist.” He leaned far out over the side to get a better look. “I’ll bet a sting from one of those things would kill you—probably five times over!”

“Being killed once would be sufficient.” Nathan liked the young man. Bannon Farmer seemed earnest and determined, perhaps a bit too innocent—but Nathan didn’t mind innocence. The wizard had written his own tales for young boys like Bannon, The Adventures of Bonnie Day and countless other stories carried far and wide on the mouths and lute strings of minstrels. Right now, Nathan saw no reason not to take the young man under his wing.

Out in the open air, Nicci stood aloof, away from the sailors. Her thick blond hair blew in the breezes, and her blue eyes pierced the distance. The tight-fitting black dress embraced her breasts and accentuated her curves. Cinched tight at the waist, the flowing skirt angled down to her right knee. On board, she’d decided to forgo her black travel leggings and high boots. She looked beautiful in the way a pristine work of art was beautiful, to be admired and appreciated, but definitely not to be touched.

Bannon occasionally looked at her with the wrong kind of sparkle in his eyes. Not lust, but infatuation. Nathan would have to watch that, lest it become a problem later on. The young man had no idea what he would be getting into.

Now, Bannon lowered his voice to an odd whisper as he asked Nathan, “Is it true she was really called Death’s Mistress?”

Nathan smiled. “Dear boy, our Nicci was one of the most feared women in Jagang’s Imperial Order. She has the blood of thousands on her hands.”

“Thousands?” Bannon swallowed.

The wizard waved his hand. “More like tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands.” He nodded. “Yes. I would suppose that’s more accurate. Hundreds of thousands.”

Although Nicci stood presumably out of earshot, Nathan saw her lips quirk in a thin smile. He continued in a stage whisper, “She was also a Sister of the Dark, served the Keeper for years before she served Jagang the dream walker.” He glanced around, noting that some of the other sailors were listening as well, and they muttered uneasily. While Bannon seemed in awe of Nicci’s past, the others were fearful and superstitious.

Nathan didn’t mind. Fear generated respect. “But that was before Nicci joined Lord Rahl, saw the light, became one of the staunchest fighters for freedom. Did I tell you she stopped Richard’s heart and sent him to the underworld?”

“She—she killed him?”

“Only for a time. She sent him to the Keeper so he could rescue the spirit of his beloved Kahlan. But that’s another story.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. “And on a long voyage, we’ll have plenty of time for tales. No need to tell them all now.”

The young man muttered in disappointment. “I’ve had a boring life, growing up as a farmboy on a sleepy island. No stories worth telling.”

“You got stung by a jellyfish once,” Nathan pointed out. “You must have other tales.”

The young man leaned back and pondered. Below in the water, the crowded jellyfish bumped against one another with muffled slurping sounds.

“Well, it might just have been my imagination,” Bannon said. “A person’s thoughts tend to run wild when drifting alone in a small boat in the fog.”

Nathan laughed. “Dear spirits, boy! Imagination is a critical part of a story. Tell your tale.”

Bannon pursed his lips. “Have you ever heard of the selka? A race that lives beneath the sea and watches the activities of people above? They observe our boats and ships from below, which are like wooden clouds floating high in their sky.”

“The selka?” Nathan frowned, drawing thumb and forefinger from his lips to his chin. “Sea people … ah yes. If memory serves—and my memory is as sharp as a finely honed dagger—the selka were created to be fighters in the ancient wizard wars. Humans altered by magic into another form, like the mriswith, or even the sliph. The selka were made to be an undersea army that could rise up and attack enemy ships.” He narrowed his eyes. “But they’re either extinct, or just legends.”

“I never heard that part of the story before,” Bannon said. “We just told tales about them on Chiriya. Sometimes the selka grant wishes.”

Nathan chuckled. “If I had a copper coin for every story about a mythical creature that grants wishes, I’d have so many coins that I could buy whatever I liked and have no need for wishes.”

“I … I don’t know about that either,” Bannon muttered. “It was just a story they told in the village. And there are times when you just want something to believe in.”

Nathan nodded solemnly, sorry he had teased the young man. “I’ve felt the same way myself.”

Bannon stared out to sea, seeming not to notice the jellyfish anymore. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Just as there are times when an unhappy person needs to run away. I was foolish and young … too young to know that I was foolish.”

Perhaps too young for that still, Nathan thought, but kept his words to himself.

“I set off in a little fishing boat all alone, meaning to leave Chiriya forever. I didn’t have any friends on the island.”

“What about Ian? The one who was also stung by a jellyfish.”

Terry Goodkind's books