“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.”
“This was later. Ian was gone.” Bannon frowned. “I set off at dusk as the tide went out, and I knew the full moon would light my way throughout the night. I hoped to see the selka, but in my heart, I suspected they were just stories. I’d been told so many things that turned out to be untrue.” He looked sickened, but with obvious effort he restored his expression to a happy grin. “There’s always a chance, though. I rowed into the darkness as the stars came out overhead, and I kept rowing until my arms felt as if they would fall off. After that, I just drifted in the open water. For about an hour I could see the dark line of Chiriya Island, with the lights of hearth fires and lamps from the shoreline villages high above the beaches. Then they vanished into the distance, and I kept on rowing.”
“Where did you think you were going?” Nathan asked. “Just heading out into the open sea?”
Bannon shrugged. “I knew the Old World was out there, a continent filled with cities like Tanimura, Kherimus, Andaliyo—a whole continent! I figured if I simply went far enough, I was bound to bump into shore sooner or later.” He glanced away in embarrassment. “Growing up on an island did not give me a good grasp of large distances. I drifted all night, and when dawn came I saw only water—water in all directions. Like this.” He gestured over the side of Wavewalker.
“I didn’t have a compass or nearly enough supplies. I drifted on the open sea all day long under the baking sun, and I began to grow deeply worried. The heat of the day burned and blistered my skin, but the next night seemed colder than ever. And by the third day, I ran out of water and most of my food. I felt like such a fool. I saw no sign of land, had no idea which direction the Old World lay, or even how to find Chiriya again.
“I cried like a heartbroken child, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I stood up in the wobbly fishing boat and shouted into the distance, hoping someone would hear. That made me feel even more foolish than crying.
“That night the moon was still bright, but a thick blanket of fog settled in—although it wasn’t a blanket, it was cold and clammy. I shivered, more miserable than ever. I couldn’t see anything around me—not that there was anything to see. The moon was just a gauzy glow overhead.”
His voice became a whisper. “On a foggy, silent night you can hear sounds from far away, and distances deceive you. I heard splashes that I thought were sharks, then it sounded like swimming … an eerie voice. I called out again for help. In my imagination I thought it might be the selka come to rescue me, but common sense told me it was just a distant whale, or even a sea serpent. I shouted and shouted, but I heard no answer. Maybe my voice startled whatever it was, and I listened to the silence, nothing but the lapping waves and another distant splash, something that might have been laughter, a giggle … but that couldn’t be true.