Wizard's First Rule

"Gimme," it hissed, in a flash turning its pallid head back to his, snapping, trying to bite his face. Spaces between its teeth were packed with spongy, gray debris. Its heavy breath reeked of rot. Dark splotches covered the hairless, waxy head.

The next time they rolled across the ground, Richard desperately reached to his belt and pulled his knife. In a rush he had it to the folds of the thing's neck.

"Please!" it howled. "No kill! No kill!"

"Then let go of the sword! Now!"

The thing slowly, reluctantly, released its grip. Richard was on his back, the putrid-smelling creature on his chest. It went limp against him.

"Please, no kill me," it repeated in a whimper.

Richard untangled himself from the disgusting creature, laying it on its back. He put the point of the sword hard against its chest. Its yellow eyes went wide.

The anger from the sword, which had somehow seemed confused and lost, at last charged into him.

"If I even think you're about to do something I don't like" Richard jabbed-"I'll push. Understand?" It nodded vigorously. Richard leaned closer. "Where did your friend go?" "Friend?"

"That big thing that almost had me before you did!"

"The Calthrop. Not friend," it whined. "Lucky man. Calthrop kills at night. Was waiting till night. To kill you. It has power in the night. Lucky man."

"I don't believe you! You were with it."

"No," it winced. "1-only followed. Till it kills you."

"Why"

Bulging eyes went to the sword. "My sword. Gimme. Please?" "No!"

Richard looked around for Kahlan. Her pack lay on the ground a short distance behind him, but he didn't see her. Suddenly Richard was cold with worry. His eyes swept the area in quick jerks. He knew the Calthrop didn't have her; it had gone into the woods alone. He continued to hold the point of the sword against the creature on the ground while he yelled out her name, hoping she would return his desperate calls. No answer.

"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