Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

“Mistress has the pretty lady.”

Richard’s face snapped back to the yellow eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

“Mistress. She took pretty lady.” Richard pushed the sword harder, indicating that he wanted to hear more, and right now. “We were following you. Watching the Calthrop play with you. To see what would happen.” His bulging yellow eyes went to the sword again.

“To steal the sword,” Richard glared.

“Not steal! Mine! Gimme!” Its hands started to go for it again until Richard pushed the sword a little, making the creature freeze.

“Who’s your mistress?”

“Mistress!” it shook, pleading for rescue. “Mistress is Shota.”

Richard’s head twitched back a little. “Your mistress is the witch woman, Shota?”

The creature nodded vigorously.

His hand tightened on the hilt. “Why did she take the pretty lady?”

“Don’t know. Maybe, to play with her. Maybe, to kill her.” The thing peered up at him. “Maybe, to get you.”

“Turn over,” Richard said. The creature cringed. “Turn over, or I’ll run you through!”

It flipped over, trembling. Richard leaned his boot into the small of its back, below the sharp, raised projections of its spine. He reached in his pack, pulling out a length of rope. He ran a loop with a slip knot around its neck.

“Do you have a name?”

“Companion. I am Mistress’s companion. Samuel.”

Richard pulled him to his feet—leaves stuck to the gray skin of his chest. “Well, Samuel, we’re going after your mistress. You’re going to lead the way. If you make one wrong move, I’ll snap your neck with this rope. Understand?”

Samuel nodded quickly, then, giving a sidelong glance at the rope, nodded slowly. “Agaden Reach. Companion take you there. No kill me?”

“If you take me there, to your mistress, and if the pretty lady is all right, I won’t kill you.”

Richard put tension to the rope to let Samuel know who was in charge, then put away the sword.

“Here, you carry the pretty lady’s pack.”

Samuel snatched the pack out of Richard’s hands. “Mine! Gimme!” Big hands started rummaging through it.

Richard gave a sharp tug on the rope. “That doesn’t belong to you. Keep your hands out of it!”

Bulging yellow eyes filled with hate looked up at him. “When Mistress kills you, then Samuel eats you.”

“If I don’t eat you first,” Richard sneered. “I’m pretty hungry. Maybe I’ll have a little Samuel stew along the way?”

The look of hate changed to a look of wide, yellow-eyed terror. “Please! No kill me! Samuel take you to Mistress, to pretty lady. Promise.” He put the pack to his shoulder and took a few steps, until he ran out of slack. “Follow Samuel. Hurry,” he said, wanting to prove his worth alive. “No cook Samuel, please,” he muttered over and over as they went back down the trail.

Richard couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of creature Samuel was. There was something familiar, unsettling, about him. He wasn’t very tall, but he was powerfully strong. Richard’s jaw still throbbed from where Samuel had hit him, and his neck and head ached from having his head pounded on the ground.

Long arms nearly reached the ground as Samuel walked along in an odd waddle, muttering over and over that he didn’t want to be cooked. Short, dark pants held up with straps were all he wore. His feet were as disproportionately large as his hands and arms. His belly was round and full, with what, Richard could only wonder. There was no hair on him anywhere, and his skin looked as if it hadn’t been in the sunlight in years. From time to time, Samuel would snatch up a stick, or a rock, and say “Mine! Gimme!” to no one in particular, only to soon lose interest and drop his latest find.

Keeping a sharp eye on both the woods and Samuel, Richard followed the companion, prodding him to move faster. He was afraid for Kahlan, and he was furious at himself. Old John, or the Calthrop, whatever it was, had completely taken him in. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He had fallen for the story because he had wanted to believe, had wanted so badly to see Zedd. The very thing he had always told others not to do. And there he was, giving the monster the information it then repeated back to him as proof. He was furious at how stupid he had been. He was also painfully ashamed.

People believe things because they want to, he had told Kahlan, and so had he, and now the witch woman had her. The very thing she had been so afraid of, and because he had been so stupid, had let his guard down. It seemed that every time he let his guard down, she was the one who paid the price. If the witch woman harmed Kahlan, she would find out what the wrath of a Seeker was all about, he vowed to himself.

Once again he reprimanded himself. He was letting his imagination get away from him. If Shota wanted to kill her, she would have done so on the spot. She wouldn’t be taking her back to Agaden Reach. But why take her back to the Reach? Unless, as Samuel put it, she wanted to play with her. Richard tried to put that thought out of his mind. It had to be him she wanted, not Kahlan. That was probably why the Calthrop left so quickly—the witch woman had scared it off.

When they reached the fork they had passed before, Samuel took them immediately down the left path. It was getting dark, but the companion didn’t slow. The trail started climbing up steep switchbacks, and soon they were out of the trees, onto an open trail across the rock, climbing steadily toward the jagged, snow-covered peaks.

In the moonlit snow, Richard could see two sets of footprints, one of them Kahlan’s. A good sign, he thought—she was still alive. It didn’t look like Shota intended to kill her. At least not right away.

Skirting the bottom of the snowcaps, the path led over the bottom fringes of the snow, which was wet, heavy, and hard to walk through. Without Samuel leading the way, knowing where this pass was, Richard realized it would take days to make it over these peaks. The cold wind whipped through the gaps in the rock, pulling away long thin clouds of their breath in the frigid air. Samuel was shivering. Richard put on his cloak, then pulled Kahlan’s out of the pack Samuel was carrying.

“This belongs to the pretty lady. You may wear it, for now, to keep warm.”

Samuel snatched the cloak out of his hands. “Mine! Gimme!”

“If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t let you wear it.” Richard pulled the rope taut and yanked the cloak back.

“Please! Samuel cold,” he whined. “Please? Wear the pretty lady’s cloak?”

Richard handed it back. This time the companion took it slowly, and put it around his shoulders. The little creature made Richard’s skin crawl. He took out a piece of tava bread and ate it as they walked along. Samuel kept looking over his shoulder, watching Richard eat. When he could stand it no longer, Richard offered Samuel a piece.

The big hands reached out. “Mine! Gimme!” Richard pulled the bread back, out of reach. Pleading yellow eyes looked up at him in the moonlight. “Please?” Richard carefully put the bread into his eager hands.

Samuel made small talk as he they trudged through the snow. He had eaten the bread in one bite. Richard knew if given the chance, Samuel would slit his throat without a second thought. He seemed to be a creature devoid of any redeeming qualities.

“Samuel, why does Shota keep you around?”

He looked back over his shoulder, his yellow eyes set in a puzzled frown. “Samuel companion.”

“And won’t your mistress be angry with you for leading me to her?”

Samuel made a gurgling sound that Richard took for laughter. “Mistress not afraid of Seeker.”