Shroud of Eternity Read online

  CHAPTER 11

  Surrounded by the intimidating members of the ruling council, Bannon felt small and out of place in the banquet hall.

  He had seen Nicci do astonishing things with her gift, and he knew Nathan’s potential. Those two had accepted him as a close companion, whether or not he had magic. He had become an important part of their group, and he certainly pulled his weight. But here in a grand city full of other gifted people, he felt insecure like when he had been a lonely boy on Chiriya Island. He glanced at Amos, Brock, and Jed sitting near him. Even they had magical skill, as they had demonstrated while camping out on the plain, but Bannon felt that maybe he would fit in better with young men his own age.

  As the meal continued, he lowered his voice and leaned close to Amos. “The sovrena and the wizard commander are really your parents?”

  The three were preoccupied with their own conversation, but Amos lifted his dark eyebrows and turned to their guest. “Yes, and that means I can do whatever I want. You like your quarters?”

  “Yes! They’re the finest quarters I’ve ever stayed in.”

  Jed picked up a decanter and filled his goblet with dark red wine, then refilled Bannon’s, although the young man had sipped only about a third of it. The wine was strong and made him feel light-headed.

  “It’s good wine too—bloodwine,” Jed said.

  Bannon hesitated before taking another sip. “Bloodwine? You mean, made from blood?”

  The young men chuckled in unison. “Not made from blood! The vines are watered with the blood of slaves. It gives the grapes a richness and body unlike any other vintage.” Amos drank a long gulp, wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “You can definitely taste the difference.”

  A little nauseated, Bannon took only a small sip.

  The young men also ate plump olives from a bowl in front of them, and Bannon wondered if those were from the groves fertilized with the bodies of dead slaves. Amos spat out a pit, rolled it between his fingertips, then tossed it onto the floor. “Living under the shroud for so many centuries, we had to make use of every possible resource. And slaves were, of course, expendable.”

  Bannon took a bite of one of the fruit-studded rolls, not wanting to ask what sort of sacrifices had gone into growing the grains or making the flour. “You must have a lot of slaves,” he muttered, thinking of how Ian had been taken by slavers so long ago.

  “They replenish themselves because they’re allowed to breed,” Amos said. “Under the shroud, the normal course of time flowed around the city, bypassing the gifted nobles—like my parents, and myself—and so we did not age. Our numbers remain constant, while the slaves grow old and die, or are killed in accidents.”

  “Or die from diseases,” Brock added.

  “Some of them run away, every time the shroud goes down,” Jed muttered, earning a glare from Amos. “The mountain towns must have hundreds of escaped slaves.”

  “Slaves are encouraged to reproduce to maintain their numbers. We’re generous and let them choose whatever mates they like,” Brock picked up the story as he mopped up meat juice on his place with a roll. “And for the past ten years or so, we have another source for slaves, now that trade opened again with the outside world.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t have the gift, Bannon?” Amos asked with a frown.

  The young man didn’t want to admit that he could neither work spells nor release any magic. “I’m not a wizard, if that’s what you mean, but doesn’t everyone have at least some small hint of the gift? At least that’s what wizard Nathan said, since all of the pristinely ungifted departed.”

  Jed snorted around a mouthful of buttered tubers. “Sounds to me like your Nathan is no longer a wizard himself, so he’s not particularly useful either.”

  “He is still a wizard,” Bannon said defensively. “He lived a thousand years and studied a great deal of knowledge. Many enemies have learned not to underestimate him. Or me.” He touched his side, where he always kept Sturdy.

  Amused, Amos lifted his goblet of bloodwine. “A toast to our new friend, Bannon Farmer, and all the adventures he has had.”

  The others raised their cups, happy for the excuse to drink deeply, but it seemed that they were laughing at him. Bannon was forced to swallow more of the wine. It left a nice warmth inside his mouth and down his throat, and he tried not to think of the slaves’ blood that had watered the grapes.

  “I can tell you more about what we’ve done,” he said, “how we saved the great Cliffwall archive and all the knowledge there.” He nodded, saw he had their attention. Something deep inside him wanted to impress these young men.

  “Cliffwall? Never heard of it,” Amos said.

  “One of the greatest archives of magical lore in the world. I helped Nathan and Nicci keep it safe.”

  Brock added, “And what could you do with complex magical lore if you don’t have the gift?”

  “I didn’t save Cliffwall for me, but because it needed to be done. And I fought my own battles, too. I might not have the gift, but I helped Nicci destroy the Lifedrinker, and I also fought against the vicious forest women created by Victoria.” He shuddered to think of the lovely Audrey, Laurel, and Sage. “They were so beautiful, but poisonous and deadly.”

  Amos chuckled. “Keeper’s crotch, sounds like one of the silk yaxen!” He looked over at Brock. “The one I warned you about.”

  The young man’s ruddy complexion grew darker as he blushed. “She only scratched me, but she wanted to do much more.”

  “She isn’t there any longer. The dacha disposed of her,” said Jed. “Ruth … her name was Ruth.”

  “Ruthless, more like it,” Amos added with a snort.

  Brooding, Brock used his knife to cut into his slice of meat.

  Bannon continued to recount his adventures. “When the selka attacked us on our ship, I killed twenty of them with my sword—terrible, bloodthirsty creatures. They slaughtered every sailor aboard the Wavewalker.”

  “But you conveniently survived,” Amos said.

  “I survived. But there was nothing convenient about it.”

  He was about to launch into a recounting of his battles with the Norukai slavers at Renda Bay, but the other three did not seem interested. He faltered in his telling. “And … well, there were many other adventures and battles. I’ll tell you about them some other time.”

  Bannon and his companions had traveled long and hard to reach this important destination. He reminded himself he was in a fabulous city now, a place of legends, dining with the greatest wizards in the entire world. He had extravagant guest quarters, fine new clothes, and a feast unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t so bad after all.

  “I wonder if your cooks know any good recipes for cabbage rolls?” he asked. “We used to grow cabbage on Chiriya.”

  “We grow cabbage here,” Jed said. “It’s slave food. And also fed to the yaxen.”

  Bannon felt belittled. “Then I don’t suppose I need to share the recipes.”

  Amos laughed at his troubled expression, clapped a congenial hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Bannon—you’re our new friend. We’ll have lots to do together, and we’ll take care of you. Just stick with us. Ildakar has remained unchanged for countless centuries.”

  He found that hard to believe. “Nothing new in all that time?”

  “Once you’ve achieved a perfect society, why should you change?” Amos raised his goblet again. “To Ildakar!”

  The other boys agreed, making the toast a resounding call. “To Ildakar!” Bannon drank more, surprised to discover that he had emptied his wineglass.

  Jed refilled it again.

  “Our new friend is much too nervous and reticent,” Amos said. “Bloodwine will loosen him up. Then we can show him the greatest pleasures in Ildakar.”

  “Would you like that, Bannon Farmer?” Brock asked.

  He felt intimidated at the prospect of the “greatest pleasures,” not sure what his friends might mean, but
he didn’t dare decline the offer. Nicci and Nathan would be preoccupied with the duma members for some time, maybe days or weeks, as he tried to get his gift back. Bannon would be left out of all their important work.

  He smiled at Amos and his two companions and accepted their invitation. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The banquet courses continued for two hours, finally tapering into multiple desserts, then tiny glasses of potent liqueurs. Nicci glanced up through the open ceiling of the grand villa, where night moths flitted around the blooming vine flowers. The clear sky was awash with stars.

  After the main course, High Captain Avery took a plate of his own and ate standing beside Thora. Her normally icy expression melted, and she laughed at his whispered comments to her. She shared some morsels from her plate, although he had a full serving of his own.

  “Our dear captain’s loyalty and bravery are impeccable, and his strength…” She heaved a small sigh. “Avery is quite capable, and intensely devoted to the city of Ildakar.”

  “And devoted to the beautiful sovrena herself,” Maxim said with lilting sarcasm. He treated his wife’s obvious flirtation with wry cheer that might have covered a hint of annoyance.

  “He’s certainly more capable than you have been in a long time, husband,” Thora retorted.

  “I’m still fully capable, my dear, just no longer interested,” he said, and Thora’s face puckered with disdain. Maxim lounged back in his chair. “At least not interested in you. Perhaps that’ll change, given another thousand years.”

  “By then you will be weary of every other woman in Ildakar,” she said.

  “Oh, I couldn’t be tired of them all,” Maxim said. “And I could never forget that you are my wife and my love. Just look at you.” He swept his hand toward the perfection of her face, the intricate nest of loops and braids of her hair. “How incredibly beautiful you are.” He took a long swallow of bloodwine, lowered his voice. “On the outside.”

  Thora reached out to pat Avery’s hand. He stood straight-backed, uncomfortable to be caught in the middle of this discussion. He adjusted the red pauldron on his shoulder. The other wizards around the table had consumed enough wine that their conversation flowed freely and loudly. Even Nathan talked loquaciously with a hint of a slur to his words.

  Taking his goblet loosely in his left hand, Maxim rose from his chair and stood beside her seat. The wizard commander had a gleam in his eye—a gleam Nicci didn’t like.

  She was alert and on her guard. She had been used by many men, but had never pretended to call it love. Throughout her time as Death’s Mistress, she had been Jagang’s plaything, and before that, a pawn tossed about among the soldiers of the Imperial Order.

  Maxim leaned close to her shoulder. “Over centuries of sheltered peace, the gifted nobles of Ildakar had much opportunity to hone our skills and develop the fine arts of sexual pleasure.” He leaned closer, spoke in a husky voice. “I daresay that most of our techniques have never been seen in the outside world.”

  “You must be very proud,” Nicci said. “Perhaps you should use those skills to keep your wife satisfied.”

  The wizard commander scoffed. “Satisfying Thora is an impossible task—ask any of her discarded partners. In fact, ask High Captain Avery. I am curious how he manages to do it.”

  The sovrena looked icy. “He manages, because he is well endowed with talent … and well endowed in general.”

  A gasp and a titter went down the table. The banter delighted the other wizards, but Nicci was not amused, although she could not be offended on Maxim’s behalf, because he didn’t seem to care.

  “You cannot make me jealous, dear wife, for I am as satisfied with our arrangement as you are.” Maxim bent close enough to Nicci that she could smell the wine on his breath. “I must inform you of our tradition on special evenings. The gifted nobles often join in pleasure parties, large and small, all of them intimate. You have noticed the immensity of this grand villa. We have numerous rooms with numerous beds … or floor cushions, or swinging hammocks. The possibilities may not be endless, but I don’t believe we’ve explored all of them yet, not in fifteen hundred years. I would be most honored if you would join us. Let me show you the true pinnacles of ecstasy. I promise we’ve developed countless masterful techniques.”

  Nicci met his gaze with her clear blue eyes. She didn’t back away, or flinch, or give any sign of warmth. “I think not. I have many techniques of my own, and they aren’t necessarily pleasurable.”

  Maxim chuckled at that. “I know what you mean … and there are those who take great satisfaction in receiving and giving pain. It is a different form of enjoyment, although many still consider it sexual ecstasy.”

  Nicci didn’t budge. The duma members at the table watched her closely. “You mistake my meaning. I do not intend to participate in your pleasure parties. At all.”

  “But we appreciate the offer,” Nathan interjected quickly. “I should tell you that Nicci has been treated badly in the past, and I’m afraid the experience rather soured her on what others call pleasure. But if this invitation is important to you, and if it’s a tradition, I may have to consider serving in the role. I am the roving D’Haran ambassador.”

  An awkward mutter ran around the table. Elsa seemed embarrassed for him. She gave the old wizard’s hand a reassuring pat. “Thank you for your willingness, Nathan, but there’s a problem. You see, our pleasure parties are only for the gifted nobles.” She let her words hang for a moment.

  Across the table, the fleshmancer Quentin broke in. “As you made clear to us, you have lost your gift. It’s gone within you. We’ll still welcome you here in Ildakar, but you won’t be allowed to participate in pleasure parties until your gift is restored.”

  Elsa considered, then said, “We have always had a tradition of allowing outside guests, under special circumstances. This may be an appropriate circumstance, so we wouldn’t have to leave the poor man out.”

  “Think about it, Nathan Rahl. What if your condition is contagious?” Thora asked. “Especially by close, intimate contact.”

  “I assure you that is not the case,” Nathan said.

  Gruff Ivan elicited a wave of laughter. “Can he even make his wizard’s staff rise?”

  Nathan, a man not easily embarrassed, folded his hands in front of him on the banquet table, adjusting the copper-trimmed sleeves of his green wizard’s robe. “Mock me if you like. I had hoped to receive more sympathy for my tragic condition, but after this fine and enormous meal, I might be more interested in a good sleep than wild hedonistic celebrations anyway.”

  Amos and his companions got up from the table, bored with the conversation. “We’ll take Bannon Farmer and show him some fun. Don’t worry about us.”

  The young swordsman looked out of his depth, but afraid to say no. Nevertheless, Nicci was sure he could take care of himself. “Like Nathan, I believe sleep sounds like a fine idea. We’ll have more business to discuss tomorrow.”

  She stood, and Nathan rose to join her, collecting his dignity as they departed, walking past the clean, sweet perfume of white flowers from an indoor hedge of night-blooming jasmine.

  As they left the banquet hall, Nathan dipped his hands in the small reflecting pool in the hall, shook off the excess water. “Thank you, Sorceress. A clean, soft bed sounds like enough ecstasy just now.”

  Nicci made a noncommittal comment. Though their quarters in Cliffwall had been comfortable, she kept thinking how she had shared her chamber with poor Thistle, how the young orphan girl had loved to curl up on a sheepskin on the stone floor.

  “In the morning, Fleshmancer Andre wishes to take me to his research pavilion so we can study my condition. I’ll be happy to learn some answers.”

  “I will be glad when your powers are restored and you’re back to your old self,” Nicci said. She bade him good night as she entered her room, pushing aside the purple fabric hangings that covered the door. She removed her black dress and donned th
e comfortable sleep garment the servants had laid out for her. As she lounged on the bed, savoring the cool sheets, listening to the whisper of breezes out in the night, she let a trickle of her gift flow out so she could extinguish the lamps. As she lay in the dim shadows, the room felt very alone without Thistle. She also felt alone without Mrra.

  The spell-bonded sand panther had bounded away when Amos and his companions arrived. As their group traveled across the plain toward Ildakar, Nicci had sensed the big cat following them, out of sight … but she hadn’t seen Mrra since.

  Now as Nicci drifted, letting her thoughts flow, she did not slide into sleep, but followed the faint bond, reaching out into the night. She knew that Mrra prowled outside the city walls, hunting in the hills. She could detect the uneasiness in her sister panther’s mind. Mrra had been afraid of the three young men, and now the cat’s hatred for the great city shouted through her animal instincts and feline moods.

  Ildakar was dangerous. Ildakar was a place of pain and bad memories.

  Nicci had dreamed some of those memories before. She had recognized many of the arcane runes etched in the structures of Ildakar, symbols that matched the marks branded onto Mrra’s hide.

  As she drifted closer to sleep, Nicci mused on the dichotomy that the sand panther was out there alone, roaming the wild, while Nicci herself was in a spacious bedchamber after eating a fine banquet.

  Yet Nicci feared that she might be the one facing more danger.

  CHAPTER 13

  Amos and his friends were in high spirits as they left the grand villa, and Bannon followed them, glad to have the company after the banquet dispersed. Jed and Brock told off-color jokes, snorting with laughter as they wandered down the sloped cobblestone streets from Ildakar’s upper level, winding into crowded lower streets of homes owned by wealthy nobles.

  The young men left the well-manicured wealthy district past orchards of sweet-smelling citrus blossoms whose perfume made Bannon giddy. He found he had trouble walking, thanks to the bloodwine he had consumed, though the very idea of the wine still unsettled him.