Shroud of Eternity Read online

  “I came to greet you, Sorceress,” he said, looking down at her wrapped in the slick sheets. “I trust you had a restful and comfortable night … though not nearly as enjoyable as you could have had in a more active bed.”

  On the cusp of lunging, she felt the gift surge within her, ready to attack, but she held it back with great effort. He was a formidable wizard in his own right. “You’re lucky I awoke quickly enough to understand where I was. Under other circumstances, I might have killed you before I recognized you.”

  The wizard commander raised his eyebrows. “It is always a good idea to recognize someone before you kill them. That’s the best way to be sure.” He stroked his goatee.

  She wore a scant, soft shift that had been among the garments left out in her quarters. She sat up, not bothering to cover herself, unwilling to show him any discomfort. Nicci had never been ashamed of her body. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “It’s actually my room. This is my villa. You are my guest.”

  “Guests deserve certain consideration.”

  “I came to wake you. Out of consideration,” he said dismissively. “Thora suggested that you and Nathan see the central pyramid, which is an important part of your understanding of Ildakar.”

  Nicci recalled the stair-stepped pyramid. “We saw it when we approached the ruling tower. Is it a temple of some kind?”

  “A temple?” Maxim laughed. “With all the great powers we possess, why would we need to worship at a temple? We acknowledge the Creator and the Keeper beyond the veil of death, but we don’t need to rely on supernatural interventions. As we proved when the army of General Utros came to us, we are impressive powers in our own right.”

  She remained sitting in her bed with the silken sheets pooled across her lap. “Leave. I will dress and then join you. Has Nathan been informed?”

  “The sovrena herself went to wake him. I hope she enjoyed her task as much as I enjoyed mine.” He gave her a lilting smile, then walked out of her room, leaving Nicci unsettled.

  She could easily have summoned fire and scorched him on his way out, but Maxim was the wizard commander. She kept in mind that Nathan needed something from the wizards of Ildakar.

  After she washed herself and donned her black dress and black boots, Nicci brushed out her golden hair and ate a private breakfast from a platter of fruit, pastries, and cheese that someone had silently delivered to her chamber while she slept. The lack of privacy, the vulnerability, made her uneasy. From now on, she decided, she would sleep with both daggers at her side.

  When she joined Nathan in the main foyer, she saw he had combed out his long white hair and donned his copper-trimmed green wizard’s robe again. He seemed to think it looked good on him. He certainly looked more wizardlike than in his black trousers, boots, and ruffled shirt.

  The wizard commander cheerfully turned to Thora, who stood with them. “I told you Nicci would come.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “She seemed quite eager to see the pyramid.”

  “The sorceress was eager?” Nathan asked. “I’m sure you misinterpreted her mood.”

  “He did,” Nicci said. “It wasn’t the only thing he misinterpreted.”

  Nathan changed his tone, sounding like a careful diplomat. “We have much to learn about each other’s cultures. I understand the pyramid is the heart of your city’s power? The projector of the shroud of eternity? I want to get the details right.” He seemed to be already considering how to describe the encounter in his life book, which he carried at his side.

  “The pyramid is a focal point, a convergence of the lines of magic laid down in intricate spell-forms that permeate the streets and buildings of Ildakar,” Thora explained.

  Departing from the grand villa, they walked along a path covered by an arbor that hummed with bees pollinating pink blossoms. With the shroud down, exposing Ildakar to the outside world, the skies were clear and blue. From the top of the plateau, the city all around them seemed pristine, peaceful, untouchable.

  Ahead rose the imposing structure built of dark gray stone blocks. The blocks formed a square base, then seven successively smaller platforms like giant stairsteps, leading up to an open platform at the apex. Slashed through the center of the wide levels was a narrower ramp with smaller steps built for human feet.

  Maxim went forward with a cheerful demeanor, leading them to the steps. “This is the place from which all of our magic emanates. From here, we will perform the magic to activate the shroud once more.”

  “Maybe that’s where I’ll need to go in order to have my gift restored,” Nathan said.

  “First, we must find out what is wrong with you,” Maxim said. “And I’m sure Andre will relish the challenge.”

  “The pyramid is reserved for the bloodworking that creates the shroud,” Thora said. “The power required for that should remain undiluted.”

  Nicci didn’t like the sound of “bloodworking.”

  “It was just a suggestion,” Nathan said quickly. “I’m always happy to consider all alternatives.”

  Halfway up the second platform, Maxim turned so that he could look down on Nathan. “All alternatives? Even the possibility that you might never get your gift back? What if you must remain a normal and powerless man for the rest of your life?”

  “If that’s the case,” Thora said, “he has no reason to stay here in Ildakar.”

  “We haven’t decided to stay in Ildakar either way,” Nicci said, climbing the stone steps.

  Nathan said, “I’ll visit Fleshmancer Andre later this morning. Because I am a scholar myself, he and I can pool our knowledge and understand what we have to do. The witch woman predicted this is the place I must be.”

  “So very quaint,” Thora mocked. “And your primitive little witch also predicted that the sorceress would save the world. It seems to me more like she was trying to stroke Nicci’s ego rather than give you any useful advice. Are you sure you’ve found the right sorceress from the prediction?”

  Nicci refused to rise to the bait, though Nathan looked crestfallen.

  At the pyramid’s top platform, which was cluttered with gleaming, reflective devices, Thora and Maxim stood like the king and queen in a strategy game the Sisters of the Light had often played in the Palace of the Prophets.

  The stone floor of the top platform was etched with silver-lined channels, prominent troughs laid out in complex spell-forms with geometrical angles and loops. Nathan was drawn to the intricate polished apparatus standing on display, graduated arcs of reflective metal, empty basins that gleamed like huge crucibles to collect the sun. Tall metal poles were mounted on each of the four corners, like lightning rods stretching up to the sky; each pole was capped with a quartz prism. Two lenses were held within spinning hoops of metal.

  Nicci stepped into the middle of the patterns and spell-forms. She couldn’t see the entire pattern, but easily discerned its purpose. “The wizards use this pyramid as a focal point when they cast powerful spells? They can draw the power needed to generate your protective shroud?”

  “Usually,” Maxim said. “But as time has gone by, the bloodworking takes greater and greater effort.” He sniffed. “We are still assessing.”

  Thora cut in. “But we have to understand. The shroud has come down too often over the past ten years, leaving us unprotected against outside threats.”

  Nathan shaded his eyes and peered out beyond the periphery of the huge city, turning toward the sheer drop-off to the Killraven River, then in the other direction, back to the plain. He gestured toward the waves upon waves of stone soldiers strewn across the open grasslands. “But you worked your spell long ago. You petrified the army of General Utros, and there is no longer any threat from them. Why maintain the shroud if it requires so much energy?”

  And so much blood? Nicci thought.

  Thora’s expression darkened. “The shroud was not just to protect the city from Emperor Kurgan’s bloodthirsty armies. It was to preserve our society, to prevent contamination fro
m the outside. But now it is fading, and I feel great fear for our continued existence.” Her face looked pinched. “Each exposure erodes what we have created.”

  The wizard commander was not so convinced. “On the other hand, my dear, opening Ildakar to the outside has allowed an infusion of resources and added new life to our society. Think of all the fresh blood the slavers have brought for us.”

  “And how many slaves have escaped out into the wild?” she asked.

  Chuckling at his wife’s pained expression, Maxim turned to Nicci and Nathan. “As you can see, we’ve had this argument many times.”

  “The outside world has changed greatly in fifteen hundred years,” Nicci said, thinking of Richard and D’Hara. “Lord Rahl put an end to oppression, brought down tyrants, defeated the Imperial Order. Slavery should be a thing of the past.”

  Thora looked annoyed. “And he has decreed this from a throne so far away that no one has ever heard of it. You’re being naive.”

  “I am following my beliefs,” Nicci said. “And my beliefs are correct. I have seen the poison of tyranny, and I will have none of it. Even Ildakar can change for the better. We will help.”

  Nathan looked nervous at the tension in her discussion, but Nicci did not back down.

  Thora narrowed her sea-green eyes. “You would come here and change the underpinnings of a society? All by yourself? Ildakar has functioned perfectly well for thousands of years without your help … and without your interference.”

  “Perfectly well? That is a matter of some debate,” Maxim said. “Just as you’ve lost your deep-seated love for me after all this time, my dear, you’ve also lost your objectivity. Ildakar has changed. The people are beginning to grow restless, and Mirrormask is taking advantage of that. Perhaps a small shift in the way we do things would reestablish contentment. Is that not better than waiting for something to explode?”

  “I’m not waiting,” Thora said, with a stony sneer. “We will have nothing to worry about once we exterminate Mirrormask and put an end to the trouble he’s caused.”

  CHAPTER 15

  As thin clouds scudded across the early-afternoon sky, Nathan walked up to the fleshmancer’s dwelling, curious, eager, and a little nervous. He counted on this gifted man’s abilities, hoping to find a simple and straightforward solution to his lack of magic. Red’s commands had led him here.

  Andre’s mansion was easy enough to find, not at the top of the plateau where some of the other duma members lived, but partway down the layers of the uplifted city, not far from a spectacular outdoor arena and sandstone outcroppings. The fleshmancer’s home was a large and impressive structure, three stories high with several connected wings on spacious grounds. The walls were built from quarried white stone. Tall fluted pillars held up the portico and arched walls in an open-air courtyard.

  As Nathan walked up the pathway, his boots crunched on the crushed stone that glittered with veins of crystal. The exotic gardens captured his attention like a hunter seizing a bird and refusing to let go. The lush hedges had an eerie undertone of unreality, the interlaced branches folded, then folded back on themselves as if they had been slowly tortured, broken, then improperly healed. Bright orange flowers looked like hibiscus, though their perfume smelled oddly bitter. The trees in the garden were stunted and malformed, their trunks bent over at improbable angles, then twisted back up, like a goose whose neck had been broken in two places. Even the repressed fruit trees spilled forth a blizzard of pink blossoms.

  In a special section of the garden, Nathan paused before shoulder-high flowers with thick stalks and heads as large as his own, like sunflowers with scarlet petals. As he leaned forward for a closer look, Nathan saw that all the seeds in the center glittered and moved, like insect eyes.

  Nathan felt a chill, but also a fascination. True, these plants seemed different, but he couldn’t see anything threatening about them, if one didn’t insist on the original patterns the Creator had used. In a way, he gave Andre credit for his imagination and originality.

  Nathan had studied many obscure magical tomes in Cliffwall, searching how he might recover his gift, but he had found no clues there. As each day went by without him being able to do simple things such as lighting a fire or shining a light, Nathan longed to have his gift back. He tried to hide how much he depended on magic, because he was competent enough without the powers of a wizard. By necessity, he had become a much better swordsman, for example.

  But he felt hollow. Something was missing inside him, and it didn’t reflect who he was. After the star shift unraveled his gift of prophecy, he had lost so much more. And whenever he felt a tiny flicker of his magic coming back, the results were grossly distorted amplifications or ricochets of his intent. He didn’t dare attempt to use his magic, nor did he dare to remain helpless. He needed his gift back, badly, and he was betting that someone in Ildakar—Andre, he hoped—would help him. He was willing to do whatever might be necessary to accomplish that.

  “I see you admiring my garden, hmmm?” Andre emerged from his villa and stood under an entry arch draped with snakelike vines. He casually leaned against one of the fluted columns.

  Though startled by his sudden appearance, Nathan showed no reaction other than to give a grateful smile to the man. “The plants are most unusual. Where did you find such strange specimens?”

  “Find them?” Andre laughed. “Why, I created them. Most were just flights of fancy, but a few served as practice for other experiments I had in mind.” The fleshmancer drew down his lips. “I learn a great deal of unique knowledge by tearing living things apart, studying how they work, then reassembling them.”

  Nathan stepped past the looming red eyeflowers. “I hope you can use some of that special knowledge to help me.”

  The other man tugged on the knot of his braided beard. “Indeed, former wizard, you pose an interesting challenge. I promise I will study your condition in great detail and perform any necessary experiments to discover an answer. Shall we begin, hmmm?”

  Nathan followed the man inside a cavernous foyer supported by tall pillars. He was glad for the fleshmancer’s assistance, even if Andre seemed to be doing it more to satisfy his own curiosity than to assist a fellow wizard. Andre led him into the first wing, which seemed oddly dark even in the bright afternoon. Although the ceilings were mostly open, they had been draped with indigo-dyed cloth, which gave the interior a nighttime feel. Simmering magical pots of light shone in alcoves and corners.

  In the large yet somehow claustrophobic room, Nathan saw three long clean tables, each large enough to hold an outstretched man. He heard the sounds of bubbling fluid and the faint hiss of mist escaping from partially closed containers. The air was thick and moist, laced with an undertone of spoiled food and caustic powders.

  Shelves along the walls held small colored glass bottles or opaque jars full of powders. Aquariums filled with murky liquids held strange shapeless objects. Nearby, he saw a tank with clearer water and a fishlike thing swimming in it, its jagged fins so long they reminded him of the feathers of a tropical bird. Cautious, yet curious, Nathan walked toward a tank that held clotted swirls of liquid and a shadowy shape that looked something like a severed hand.

  Standing proudly, Fleshmancer Andre said, “Living forms are like clay. Bone, muscle, flesh, even hair is mutable in a skilled fleshmancer’s hand. I am the sculptor. I am the potter. I look at living creatures as raw material from which I can make whatever is necessary … or whatever I wish.”

  Nathan looked around at the three empty tables, the numerous unlabeled bottles on the shelves, the oddly shaped but sharp tools in basins or on platters, and his imagination filled in details of what Andre actually did here. “This is where you conduct your experiments?”

  “This is where I do my work.” The fleshmancer patted Nathan on the shoulder, let his fingers linger on the tall wizard’s arm, tracing down the sleeve of the green silk robe. “And this is where I will study you. My main living quarters are in the back, but I s
pend the bulk of my time here in this wing, with my various dissection and reassembly chambers, my performance tables, and of course the recovery gallery.”

  With the three tables lined up and waiting for patients, or specimens, this place reminded Nathan of an empty battlefield hospital, joined with an abattoir. He pushed back his anxiety, focusing on the goal. “Let’s get on with it—I need to find answers. Thank you for welcoming me into your laboratory.”

  Andre chuckled. “My laboratory, hmmm? I prefer to think of it as my studio. Fleshmancy is an art, and I have created many masterpieces. I scrutinize my subjects, my specimens. I treat them as raw material, blank canvases, and I imagine how they can be improved.”

  Nathan flinched as the strange fish splashed in the nearby tank, and he cleared his throat. He wanted this too badly. “I could be greatly improved, if we restore my gift. Then I’d show I am a wizard as powerful as any here in Ildakar.”

  “Oh, that would be a thing to see. I’d better inspect you thoroughly first, hmmm?” Andre faced him. As he absently stroked the braided beard on the point of his chin, the expression went out of his gray eyes, as if the fleshmancer had stopped seeing the wizard in front of him, but instead saw something else. He tugged on the silken folds of Nathan’s robe. “Disrobe, so I can have a look at you.”

  Nathan felt awkward. “You wish me to stand here naked so you can poke and prod?”

  “Yes. I do.” Just the night before, the nobles of Ildakar had talked about wild, crowded pleasure parties, where no doubt there would have been enough naked forms on display to last a lifetime. Andre raised his eyebrows. “You said you wanted my help?”

  Surprised at his own reticence, Nathan drove back his embarrassment. He was tall, handsome, and well built, with nothing to be ashamed of. Andre tugged at the sash that held the borrowed wizard’s robe closed, and Nathan shrugged out of it, letting the green garment ripple off his shoulders and slither down to the floor. He stepped out of the pool of fabric. Though the chamber was hot and stuffy, Nathan felt a tickle of gooseflesh up and down his sides.