Terry Goodkind - Phantom - Chainfire Trilogy Part 2

When the two riders emerged into the light, Richard saw that one of them was Shota.

The witch woman locked eyes with him and smiled that quiet, knowing, private smile she wore so naturally. Like most other things about Shota, Richard didn’t entirely trust the smile as significant, much less sincere, and so he couldn’t be sure that it augured well.

He didn’t recognize the woman, maybe ten or fifteen years older, who rode deferentially half a length behind Shota. Short, sandy hair framed the woman’s pleasant face. Her eyes were as intensely blue as the sky on a sparkling clear autumn day. Unlike Shota, she wore no casual smile. As they rode, her head swiveled and those blue eyes searched, as if she feared an imminent attack of demons who might materialize out of the dark stone of the surrounding walls.

Shota, by contrast, looked calm and self-confident.

Cara leaned past Richard toward Nicci. “Shota, the witch woman,” she whispered confidentially.

“I know,” Nicci answered without taking her eyes off the beautiful woman riding toward them.

Shota brought her horse to a halt close to the steps. As she straightened her shoulders she casually rested her wrists across the saddle’s pommel.

“I need to see you,” she said to Richard as if he were the only one standing there. The smile, sincere or not, had vanished. “We have much to talk about.”

“Where is your murderous little companion, Samuel?”

Shota, riding sidesaddle, slipped down off her horse in a way that Richard imagined must be how a spirit would slip to ground, if spirits rode horses.

A hint of indignation narrowed Shota’s almond-shaped eyes. “That is one of the things we need to talk about.”

The other woman dismounted as well and took the reins to Shota’s horse when the witch woman lifted them to the side, much the way a queen would, not knowing or caring who would take them, but expecting without any doubt whatsoever that someone would. Her gaze remained fixed on Richard as she glided closer to the broad granite steps. Her thick, wavy auburn hair tumbled down over the front of her shoulders and glistened in the early light. Her revealing dress, made of an airy, rust-colored fabric that complemented perfectly the color of her hair, seemed to float with her effortless strides, clinging to her every curve, at least the ones it covered.

Shota’s gaze finally left Richard to take in Nicci with an “I dare you” look. It was the kind of look that would have withered just about anyone. It failed to wither Nicci in the least. It struck Richard that he was probably in the presence of the two most dangerous women alive. He half expected dark thunderclouds to roll in and lightning to nicker, but the sky remained defiantly clear.

Shota’s gaze finally slid back to Richard. “Your friend Chase has been gravely hurt.”

Richard didn’t know what he had been expecting Shota to say, but that wasn’t even close. “Chase . . . ?”

Zedd suddenly arrived and pushed his way through between Richard and Cara. “Shota!” he declared in a huff. His face had gone red and it wasn’t from his run through the halls. “How dare you come into the Keep! First you swindle Richard out of the sword, and then—”

Richard lifted an arm out across his grandfather’s chest to stop him from charging down the steps. “Zedd, calm down. Shota says that Chase has been badly hurt.”

“How does she think—”

Zedd’s voice abruptly clipped off when Richard’s words finally sank in. His wide eyes turned back toward Shota. “Chase, hurt? Dear spirits . . . how?”

Zedd suddenly caught sight of the other woman standing a little farther back, holding the reins to the horses. He squinted against the bright light. “Jebra? Jebra Bevinvier?”

The woman smiled warmly. “It has been quite a while. I wasn’t sure that you would remember me, Wizard Zorander.”

This time Richard didn’t try to stop Zedd when he rushed to descend the steps. He embraced the woman in a warm and protective hug.

“Wizard Zorander—”

“Zedd, remember?”

She drew back to peer up at his face. A smile broke through the sadness that weighed so heavily in her eyes. Her smile ghosted away. “Zedd, my vision has gone dark.”

“Gone dark?” Concern tightening his features, he straightened and gripped her by the shoulders. “How long ago?”

A terrible anguish flooded back into her blue eyes. “Nearly two years.”

“Two years . . .” Zedd said, his voice trailing off in dismay.

“I remember you, now.” Richard said as he moved down the steps. “Kahlan told me about you.”

Jebra cast Richard a puzzled frown. “Who?”

“The phantom he chases,” Shota said, her unwavering gaze fixed on him as if daring him to argue.

“The woman he seeks is no phantom,” Nicci said, drawing Shota’s attention. “Thanks in part to the pricey and rather equivocal suggestions you offered, we have discovered the truth of what Richard has been telling us all along. Apparently you are still in the dark about it.”

Nicci’s icy look reminded Richard that she had once been known as Death’s Mistress. The cold authority in her voice matched the look. There were few women in the world as widely feared as Nicci had once been—except perhaps for Shota. Nicci’s demeanor indicated that she was clearly a woman still to be feared.

Shota, unfazed, deliberately took in the length of Nicci’s pink nightdress. Richard expected a smirk. Instead, a hot look flashed in Shota’s eyes.

“You have been sleeping in his bed.” She sounded almost surprised by her own words, as if the information had come to mind unexpectedly.

Nicci shrugged with satisfaction at Shota’s ire. “So I have.”

The slightest smile in turn curled the corners of Shota’s mouth. “But you have not succeeded in bedding him yet.” Her smile widened. “Have you tried, my dear? Or do you fear the sting of rejection?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me how it felt, then I’ll decide.”

Richard gently pulled Nicci back from the edge of the step before the two woman did something stupid—like try to scratch out each other’s eyes. Or reduce each other to ashes.

“You said you were here for a reason, Shota—this had better not be it.”

Shota heaved a soft sigh. “I found your friend Chase. He was gravely injured.”

“So you said. How was he injured?”

Shota’s gaze didn’t shrink from his. “He was hurt by a sword you would be quite familiar with.”

Richard blinked in astonishment. “Chase was hurt by the Sword of Truth? Samuel attacked Chase?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Zedd shook a bony finger at Shota. “This is your doing!”

“Nonsense.” Shota, too, lifted a finger as Zedd stepped closer, but in warning rather than accusation. The gesture, and her words, kept Zedd from taking another step. “I need no sword to accomplish harm.” She arched an eyebrow. “Like to see, wizard?”

“Stop it!” Richard descended the steps two at a time and put himself between Shota and his grandfather. He turned a glare of his own on Shota. “What’s going on?”

She sighed unhappily. “I’m afraid that I don’t entirely know.”

“You gave Samuel my sword.” Richard tried to keep the heat out of his voice, to keep from letting his anger show, but he feared that it wasn’t working very well. “I warned you about his nature. Despite my warning, you insisted that he have it. I want to know what he is up to. Where is Chase? How badly is he hurt? And where is Rachel?”

Shota’s brow twitched. “Rachel?”

“The girl with him—the girl he adopted. The two of them were on their way back to Westland. Chase was going to bring his family back to the Keep. You mean to say that the girl wasn’t there, with him?”