Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [213]
“Mistress has the pretty lady.”
Richard’s glare shot 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