“I want many things, too,” Lila responded. “We don’t always get what we want. You have much to learn about life, boy.” She shoved him out into the open, and he stumbled into the streets. Lila stood at the tunnel opening, slender and fierce, yet disturbingly attractive.
Bannon faced her, staring for a long moment, but she didn’t even blink. He realized he would have to try something else, find another ally, or else Ian would remain a prisoner forever.
CHAPTER 30
That night while Nicci slept, restless and alone, she also prowled the dark streets in her mind. Unsettled from the banquet and the Norukai slavers, her mind subconsciously sought out the spell bond with Mrra. The big cat moved like a tan shadow in the night, invisible in the winding maze of the great city.
Nicci’s consciousness drifted, then reunited with her sister panther, but her mind simply observed as she felt the cat’s strength. Mrra was a mass of enhanced senses, sights and smells exploding into a symphony of afterimages. Glowing light from cracks in the windows and distant streetlights provided more than enough illumination for her to see. Each faint odor told some story: the foul splashes of brown water from emptied chamber pots in the tiled gutters, the fresher scent of pure water running through narrow aqueducts beneath the streets, rat dung and the sharper smell of domestic cats that hunted the back alleys. Decorative flowers exuded a sickly sweet perfume in window boxes above.
She leaped onto a decorative stone fence, then with barely an effort, sprang to the sloping tiles of a high roof and padded along the apex before bounding down to another roof, moving along, exploring.
Mrra had found a temporary den where she could sleep during the daylight hours, a large grain warehouse filled with comforting shadows. Few people entered there, and she found plenty of rats to eat, although the dust made Mrra’s whiskers twitch and caused her to sneeze.
At night, she was free to explore the great city. She had prowled past where the chief handler tormented the arena animals. Her lips curled back and a low growl bubbled in her throat.
In bed, Nicci flexed her claws, wanting to rip something apart because of dark memories from that long-before time, before her troka had escaped. Mrra remembered the pain, the blood, and the fighting.
Even now she sensed another troka of sand panthers deep in that nightmarish tunnel. Mrra could tell that these cats were abused just as as she had been, their thoughts twisted by the cruel gift of the chief handler … whom they also hated. Trained predators, they tore apart victims on the killing sands of the arena, but they wanted to use their claws to rend Ivan instead.
Mrra felt the same way, and Nicci tasted it in the back of her own throat.
The big cat bounded off into the darkness, letting shadows enfold and embrace her. She wanted to come up to the top of the plateau and see her sister panther, but Nicci silently warned the big cat to keep her distance, to stay far from the grand villa.
Wait, sister panther, Nicci thought in her blurred sleeping state. Wait.
* * *
Hours after midnight, she awoke with feline dreams still in her mind. As she stretched her arms and legs, Nicci felt the memory of panther muscles. She was wide awake, alert, and impatient, though the sun would not rise for a long time yet.
She donned her black dress and slipped out into the night. Walking in the streets, she thought about the panther prowling out there, but decided it would be too risky for them to meet. Instead, Nicci would glide through the city by herself—not quite a sand panther, but a sorceress. That would be sufficient.
She walked down the cobblestoned streets, passing under decorative willows whose drooping fronds shushed with secretive whispers. Glowing spheres emanated blue light from the tops of iron pedestals, illuminating intersections while providing ample shadows elsewhere.
Nicci descended past the ornate homes of minor nobles who were desperately trying to show their importance. She saw the bright green eyes of an orange house cat searching for dinner in the streets. The cat darted off without making a sound.
Working her way downhill, following a main thoroughfare, Nicci passed the swinging wooden signs of inns and the homes of tradesmen, where people were bedded down for the night.
She came upon a silent square with a fountain leaking a mournful trickle of water over a scalloped upper bowl and down into a holding pool. Pennants with the sun-and-lightning-bolt symbol of Ildakar hung limp with the night dampness and still air.
She caught a sparkle of light on the wall of a nearby building—a jagged fragment of mirror thrust in the crack between bricks. Another mirror fragment glinted on the opposite wall.
With heightened senses, Nicci cautiously walked across the square, finding more broken mirrors scattered around the fountain’s edge like defiant declarations made during the dark safety of the night. Then her eyes caught furtive movement, hooded figures in the alleys. They did not run away, but waited, blending into the inky shadows. Nicci faced them, confident in her own powers to defend herself. She waited for them to make the first move.
The strangers hiding in the darkness made no noise, did not call out or challenge her. On impulse, Nicci bent down and picked up one of the mirror fragments from the edge of the fountain. She held it between her fingers and lifted it up.
Several hooded figures came forward, their faces covered by gauzy black scarves. Each wore a wooden amulet bearing an Ildakaran rune. Looking at their obscured features, Nicci shook her head so that her long blond hair fell loose. “I do not need to hide who I am.”
“But we do,” said one of the strangers. “We still have much to accomplish to save our city.”
“I am not from Ildakar,” she said.
“We know,” said another stranger. The hooded figures turned to the deepest black shadows of a side street and raised their hands in a signal. Another person emerged wearing a flowing robe of thunderstorm gray. When he stepped into the faint light, Nicci saw a confusing jumble of images inside his hood, rather than a face.
A mirror.
A mirror mask covered his face.
“I know you,” she said. “Or at least I know of you.”
“All of Ildakar knows of me,” said the man, his voice muffled behind the smooth mirror. There were mere slits for his eyes, another for his mouth. “Every slave and every downtrodden citizen of Ildakar knows who I am. We fight for freedom. Some stand openly for our cause, while others support us with their hearts and minds.”
“The wizards know of you, too,” Nicci said. “They want to kill you.”
“Many have tried, but as you can see, they’ve not yet succeeded. Meanwhile, my followers free slaves treated badly by the worst masters. We have secret hiding places in the city, and we can slip them out of Ildakar, where they go off into the hills, find other villages and cities, make new lives for themselves. We have to do as much as we can whenever the shroud is down. If we get rid of enough slaves, then the wizards will never have enough for the full bloodworking.”
“Then why don’t they all leave?” Nicci asked. “Why do you stay?”
“Because the battle is here. I intend to remain until we have swept away the repression, overthrown the duma. That is my goal.”
“An admirable goal.” Recalling the grim spectacle of the slave market, she felt her resentment flare to a brighter intensity. “I also support you, as do my companions. We can be a great help—if you have a plan. But the oppression in Ildakar is powerful.”
The masked man nodded slowly. “Powerful, yes, but not invincible. We have been watching you.”
Nicci was surprised. “You have followers in the grand villa? In the wizards’ duma?”
“We have followers everywhere,” said Mirrormask. “We can read your heart. You are indeed one of us, Sorceress Nicci.”
She held on to a thread of healthy skepticism. “Loyal allies are hard to find. Who are you? Is it true you wear that mask because your features were deformed by a fleshmancer?”
A strange muffled chuckle came from behind the mirror cove
ring. “Is that what they say? Perhaps it’s true. Or perhaps I keep my mask so that people who look at me can reflect on what they might do for the rebellion. This once-great city has grown stagnant during the centuries we were trapped under the shroud.” Again, the muffled laugh. “And ‘shroud’ is an appropriate term, because shrouds are used to wrap the dead.”
His hooded followers muttered and nodded.
“We do what we can, but you also have great power, Nicci. You can disrupt the equilibrium of this city. We have been watching you.”
The disguised followers muttered in agreement. “We’ve been watching you.”
With a pale, thin hand, Mirrormask picked up a shard of broken mirror and pressed it into Nicci’s palm. “Be ready.” He closed her fingers around the sharp edges—not enough to cut, but enough for her to feel the razor edge. “Reflect on this.”
He backed away with a swirl of his shadowy gray robes. His followers darted into the darkness, and Mirrormask disappeared, leaving Nicci holding the mirror fragment. She kept it, glad that she had come out here late at night. Now she felt more hopeful about the future of Ildakar than she had in many days.
Nicci knew she had found allies.
CHAPTER 31
The sleeping city remained silent as she made her way back to the upper levels of the plateau. Ahead, not far from the grand villa, Nicci could see the imposing pyramid illuminated with magical torches. At the apex, the silvery apparatus captured the diamond scatter of stars that shone through a thin veil of high clouds.
Returning to the villa, Nicci slipped through the archways and into the halls, creeping along. Statues stood in the halls, bizarre sculptures that she was convinced must be petrified victims of a wizard’s wrath. After the beseiging army was turned to stone, the people of Ildakar would have rejoiced, knowing they were free, yet over the years, the power that saved them had turned into oppression. When she came upon the statue of the angry old woman, Nicci remembered how helpless she had felt when the Adjudicator trapped her in stone, forcing her to relive the moment of her greatest guilt. Nicci had been unable to fight that spell—and she was certain Sovrena Thora or any of the duma members would be far greater foes.
She would have to find a different way to fight them. Perhaps Mirrormask and his uprising might provide an alternative.
When she passed Nathan Rahl’s quarters, she saw a glow. The wizard was awake even in the hours before dawn. She hesitated, considering whether or not to disturb him. Through the gift, he could have sensed her there, but having lost his magic, Nathan was effectively blind.
When she knocked, he sounded startled. “I’m resting. I’m not interested.”
“It’s Nicci,” she said.
She heard a surprised sound, and he swung the door back. “Sorceress! I thought you were one of those high nobles, demanding that I join them in their wild pleasure parties.”
Nicci raised her eyebrows. “And have they bothered you this evening?”
He turned away, stroking his smooth chin between thumb and forefinger. “Not exactly, but I was gathering my courage, just in case I needed to turn them down. I do have principles.”
Nicci slipped into his chamber, where he had spread out papers on the small writing desk. Glowing lanterns shed warm yellow light over the documents. “I’m writing in the life book, recording the things we’ve seen and learned,” he explained. “Someday we’ll take this volume back to D’Hara so we can impress Richard with our adventures.” He sank into the chair by the writing desk and gestured for her to sit, and Nicci chose the comfortable corner of his bed, brushing down the fabric of her black dress.
Nathan closed the leather-bound book the witch woman had given him. “I have no regrets at being an ambassador, and I have seen much more of the world than I expected to.” His thin lips quirked in a smile. “During all those centuries in the Palace of the Prophets, I dreamed of having adventures, and I longed to explore lands unknown. I concocted stories and wrote them down. Even now it surprises me how popular some of my tales became, like The Adventures of Bonnie Day. But now that I’ve actually become an adventurer myself, there’s a part of me—a small part, but it grows larger every day—that would simply like to go back home.”
“An adventurer makes his own home.” Nicci brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “But I’m not on an adventure. I am on a mission for Lord Rahl. He wanted me to make sure that others follow the principles he gave us, that people can aspire to their own dreams and abide by their responsibilities.”
She lowered her voice, although she knew full well that Nathan was aware of the fact. “I love Richard. I have always loved him, in one way or another. More important, I gave him my vow. I must fight to help people, to teach them freedom. We must bring down tyrants wherever we find them. Including here.”
“I could not agree more, dear sorceress,” Nathan said. “And if I weren’t so helpless, you and I would be leading a charge to take down the ruling council and free the people of Ildakar.”
“We may still do that,” Nicci said. “We must find a way to overthrow this city’s leadership.”
Nathan pressed his fist against his breastbone and pushed hard, as if to squeeze out power. “If only Andre would make me whole again.” He shook his head and glanced down at the life book.
Nicci saw that he had opened it to the beginning pages where Red’s words had been scrawled. The Wizard will behold what he needs to make himself whole again. And Nicci knew the additional instructions written there, clearly for her, And the Sorceress must save the world.
“What if the fleshmancer doesn’t restore your wizard’s heart, Nathan?” Nicci said. “There could be another answer here in Ildakar. Perhaps what you need to make yourself whole is to make this city whole.”
“And that’s also how you plan to save the world, Sorceress?”
“I’ve looked into the eyes of the duma members,” Nicci said. “I told them about Lord Rahl and his vision, and I saw how their thoughts mock me because he is impossibly far away.” She gritted her teeth and lowered her voice. “But I am not far away. I am here, and that is what they should fear.”
Yes, they had come to this city to assist Nathan, but after talking with Mirrormask she was no longer so anxious just to leave. Maybe Ildakar was her mission. When she studied the aloof wizards as they sat superior in their ruling tower, she would not just try to understand them. She would search for weaknesses.
Nathan looked saddened and uncertain. “Again, Sorceress, I would vow to help you, but we are not in a position of strength.”
Nicci narrowed her eyes. “When we are doing the right thing, we are always in a position of strength. The ruling council will fall.”
She rose from the corner of the bed and paced around his room. Beside the reflecting basin in his wall stood a tiny vase with a sprig of herbs—rosemary, from the scent. She glanced at her reflection in the water, then turned back to him. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so eager to leave here. Maybe the most important thing we can do is to stay and make sure this city changes for the better. As a sorceress, I am confident I could stand against any member of the duma. Maybe I should challenge them, become one of the rulers of Ildakar.” Her lips pressed tight in a hard smile. “Overthrow them if they do not cooperate. We could change Ildakar that way.”
“We could, dear sorceress,” Nathan said, frowning down at the life book. He flipped the pages and found the end of his handwriting. “Indeed we could.”
CHAPTER 32
Loaded with its smelly cargo, the kraken hunter ship rode low in the water. The sails and ropes groaned with exhaustion as the vessel finally came into Grafan Harbor. The sailors whooped, flailing their hands and waving caps long before anyone onshore could see them. The ship’s sails were patched and drab, gray canvas, brown canvas, and a startling square of clean white fabric.
At the rail, Oliver leaned over and retched one more time, though he had long since emptied the contents in his stomach. The s
eas were calm and the kraken hunter ship swayed with the slow swell of the waves. It wasn’t so much seasickness that churned Oliver’s guts, but the stench that permeated the ship.
Next to him, Peretta stood straight-backed, as if someone had lashed a spar to her spine. Her skin was pale and her lips were drawn back. “As a memmer, I have preserved every moment of our long ordeal on the voyage from Serrimundi,” she said, then swallowed. “Sometimes that gift is a curse.”
The krakeners laughed and jostled one another, pleased to come into port. “It’s the brothels first for me,” said one man with a horselike face that could only be made attractive with sufficient coins, preferably gold ones.
“A fine meal and too much drink for me, first,” said another sailor. “Then the brothels.”
A skinny young man no older than Oliver, but whose hands were scarred from hard living, called out, “This is Tanimura, lads! Plenty of dockside hospitality houses serve all three, so you don’t have to make a choice.”
The man with the horse face nodded gravely. “And if you find yourself too drunk to move, you can stay overnight in the same place, for an extra fee.”
Captain Jared, the brother of the Serrimundi harborlord, strode out on deck, grinning into the freshening breeze. “The prices won’t be a matter of concern for any of you. We’ve got such a good haul of kraken meat, I’ll give you each a five-silver bonus, and another two if you come back for the return voyage.”
Oliver dry-heaved over the rail one more time, swiped the back of his hand across his lips, and said in a rough voice, “Peretta and I won’t be coming back, I’m afraid.”
“Didn’t expect you to,” said the captain.
Peretta turned to him with pained formality. “We have other business in the D’Haran Empire. Thank you for the passage.”
As the ship lumbered into the harbor, heading toward an open dock, the krakeners donned gloves, while the younger sailors were ordered down into the hold to attach ropes. They also brought cleavers and saws so they could chop up the slimy, sucker-studded tentacles into easily distributed slices.