“Undoubtedly. But, oh, it was quite the fight!”
Blackness roared inside him again. His heart thumped more loudly as the realization set in. He could imagine Nicci gathering her indignation, vowing to face Thora on her own, challenging her for her rulership. If only Nicci had waited until Nathan recovered, when he could use his gift and fight at her side.…
But Nicci had done it alone, considering herself invincible. She was arrogant in that way.
He closed his eyes and envisioned her beautiful face, her graceful figure, her blond hair and blue eyes. He knew Nicci’s strength and determination. He had never seen someone so fiercely devoted to any cause. Now Nathan’s new heart felt like a heavy stone in his chest. Yet it kept beating—Thump, thump. Thump, thump—inexorably, powerfully, pulling together the strings of Han, restoring Nathan’s gift.
But he didn’t know whether or not he could use the magic. He didn’t know if he dared. He stretched out. “Let me rest,” he said, in a bitter voice.
Andre chuckled. “Of course. Regain your strength. Let us hope I can present you to the wizards’ duma before the bloodworking. It’ll be soon, hmmm?”
The fleshmancer flitted away, and Nathan huddled in his blankets of grief, thinking about Nicci, wondering where Bannon was … feeling the strong heart of a wizard within him again.
Nicci had challenged Thora by herself and she had failed. She had lost that battle, and she had died. But she had sacrificed herself in an effort to free these people, as Richard Rahl intended.
Nathan could do no less. He was determined to recover. He felt the growing conviction that he, too, might have to challenge the wizards of Ildakar, alone.
CHAPTER 65
Mirrormask occasionally visited the aqueduct tunnels to rally his hidden rebels, but Nicci was impatient to accomplish something besides hiding. She felt restless, a weapon ready to be launched.
“Do you have an actual plan?” she demanded the next time the hooded man came to speak with her. He stood there, his unreadable polished mask simply reflecting Nicci’s own questions and anger. “Is there a strategy for victory?”
“Why, we intend to free the people,” said Mirrormask. “We are building our movement and eroding the underpinnings of Ildakaran society.”
“But do you have a plan?”
“Of sorts.”
Nicci didn’t believe him, and she feared that with the shroud back in place he might feel he could wait years or even decades until the time was right. That was not at all how Richard Rahl would have done it. Not long ago, she had helped Richard in his defenses, fighting for the city of Aydindril when Emperor Jagang’s army swept through the Midlands. She had defended Altur’Rang after the people rose up to overthrow the Imperial Order, and she had helped them stand against Brother Kronos and his invasion force. When the cause was so vital, she was a leader, not a spectator. Each battle had been a carefully coordinated effort against a gigantic enemy. The powerful wizards of Ildakar, not to mention many centuries of tradition, made the battle for this city seem just as daunting. And she wanted to plan for victory, not just continued resistance.
Moisture dripped off the sandstone walls as water flowed through the channels. She had seen no more than fifteen of his followers down in the tunnels at any one time. Old Melba, the woman who liked to bake things and always smuggled fresh bread for the hidden rebels, had not been here in several days, but other furtive figures came and went, slipping in whenever they could disappear from their duties, then returning to their lives when necessary. Some, like Rendell, were familiar to her, while some recruits were strangers who looked at Nicci with awe. They all knew how she had defied Sovrena Thora, how she had battled Adessa—and how she had been flung from the high tower.
Fully healed now, Nicci gathered her gift, feeling her magic as she faced Mirrormask, pressing him on the issue and not mincing words. “I think you are like a kitten, pouncing on any object that moves. If you intend to succeed, we must coordinate our efforts. Exactly how large is your movement? Is it just these people, who hide in the tunnels and scatter broken mirrors around the streets at night? Or do you have countless others among the populace, who will come when you rally them? How many rebels do you truly have?”
“As many as I need,” Mirrormask said. “Word has spread throughout the city. They have seen the mirror shards marking our territory, and the nobles know how widespread the unrest is. They are afraid of us.”
“Then why have they done nothing to address the grievances?” Nicci asked.
Mirrormask shrugged. “We will keep increasing the pressure. It may take time.”
Her frustration grew, and she could see that she was going to have to take a more active role. “I want to set the wheels in motion, even if I have to do it myself. We must act with a purpose, Mirrormask. I’ll go out there myself and lead them.”
“Everyone will recognize you,” he warned.
“Dear spirits, maybe they should! It will make the sovrena and the wizard commander fear me.”
“Are you prepared to fight all the duma members? The gifted nobles, as well as the city guard and the ranks of the morazeth?”
Nicci lifted her chin in defiance and determination. “Yes. If need be.”
Behind his reflective mask, he let out a low laugh. “Then I will hand your own advice back to you. You need a plan, Sorceress. You need a strategy.”
Nicci was unsure of how many days had passed since she’d been rescued by the rebels. She had needed time to heal and regain her strength, but she felt strong and ready now. Had Nathan recovered in the fleshmancer’s studio? Did her friend possess the gift again, now that he had the new heart of a wizard? If so, Nathan would be a powerful ally. She didn’t know what had happened to Bannon. He had no magic, but was certainly a decent fighter with his sword.
Nicci was determined that together they could overthrow the wizards of Ildakar, but she didn’t truly believe she would have to fight them all. She suspected that some—Elsa, possibly Damon, possibly Quentin—would welcome the change. Even Maxim said he wanted to see his wife defeated.
She was also determined to free Mrra. For two nights, her dreams had been aswirl with the sand panther’s pent-up fury. Caught alone, in a cage pacing back and forth, poked and prodded, starved. And even when Mrra fed, the captivity itself made her vomit up the food. Perhaps it was poisoned, the apprentice handlers punishing her for her intractability. Nicci didn’t know. Her connection wasn’t clear enough. She wanted to go to the pens of the combat animals and tear the bars apart, using her gift to uproot the hinges and peel the iron away so the sand panther could bound free and attack the cruel handlers.
“We have to move soon, before the wizards take irrevocable action,” Nicci said. And before she herself went mad with impatience.
“The duma members always take irrevocable actions,” Mirrormask said; then he paused. “But if you have an idea of how we should proceed, I would be pleased to hear it. What do you propose?”
“When I challenged Sovrena Thora, I learned that she can spy anywhere in the city. All those reflecting basins are connected by a scrying spell. That is how she eavesdropped on my private conversations with Nathan Rahl and when you and I met for the first time. She can spy on the rebel movement through any one of them, if she wishes.”
Some of the people in the tunnels muttered uneasily.
“That’s why my followers hide their faces any time they do work for our cause,” Mirrormask said. “I planned ahead for that.”
Rendell mumbled, “But those basins are everywhere in the city—in the main squares, in the boulevards, on civic buildings. We’ve placed our mirror shards near many of them. She must have been watching!”
Nicci made up her mind, knowing something specific she could do. “We go out tonight. Instead of just leaving little reflective marks of your presence, let’s destroy those basins. That way we’ll blind Thora.”
The rebels nodded, sounding hopeful. They viewed Nicci with a new respect,
and she felt pleased to have something specific to do.
“An excellent suggestion!” Mirrormask said. “We will spread the word among the rebels. My followers could destroy those scrying basins in street after street throughout the city.”
“Those basins were meant to be a service to the poor people,” Rendell pointed out, his normally quiet voice now holding a ragged edge of anger. “Fresh water direct from the aqueducts for everyone. The sovrena was using them to spy on us all.”
Mirrormask brushed at the sleeve of his gray robe, reached up to adjust the plate that covered his face. For a moment Nicci thought he might remove the mask and reveal himself, and then she could see the ghastly malformations some fleshmancer had inflicted upon him. But he withdrew his hand and turned away. “I like the way you think, Sorceress. Tonight we go forth and blind the sovrena, then return here and we can plan our next move.”
Nicci did not appreciate the compliment, nor did she point out that it was a job he should have been doing all along. “After that, our next move must be to free my sand panther. That is my priority.”
Rendell was clearly alarmed. “And let the beast rampage through the streets? The city guards will kill her if she is loose.”
“Mrra must be free,” Nicci insisted. “I can control her. I can hide her.”
Mirrormask held up a hand. “One step at a time, my followers. For now, let us smash the reflecting basins. That will give us a measurable victory tonight.”
* * *
After full dark, Nicci emerged from the tunnels with ten of the hooded rebels. Rendell accompanied her, while Mirrormask departed down one of the streets alone. Other followers spread out to seek the innocuous-looking basins.
Ildakar was dark and silent. Stars sparkled overhead, shimmering from the distortion of the shroud that now encapsulated the city. A faint sliver of moon shaped like the blade of a sacrificial knife hung low to the horizon, barely visible between the buildings.
This was the first time Nicci had been outside in days, and she paused to take a long breath, drawing energy from the cool darkness, but her thoughts weren’t with the stars or the fresh air. Nicci devoted her full attention to their work here in the city.
She and Rendell kept to the shadows, darting between buildings, avoiding the dim glows of light that seeped through shuttered windows. She heard low conversations, smelled savory curls of smoke from cooking hearths. Some of the windows were open in the night air, and people sat silhouetted on windowsills, taking in the fresh air. Nicci and Rendell moved silently. She was sure some people spotted them, but they raised no alarm, only gave their quiet support.
She thought of the times when she had faced enemies using her magic or her knives, defeating them in personal combat. She had led armies both for Jagang and against him. “I don’t like this skulking around,” she muttered to Rendell as they paused at the mouth of an alley that led out into a gathering square. “I prefer to face my opponent directly.”
“We will have a stand-up fight soon enough,” Rendell said. “The sovrena and the wizard commander are planning another massive bloodworking. Hundreds of slaves are being rounded up for a great sacrifice at the pyramid.” His voice was weary, weighted down with misery. “This one is designed to make the shroud permanent.”
Nicci blinked in alarm. “Then we will never get out, and neither will the sacrificial slaves. We have to act before that happens!”
“We have already been trapped here forever. But we will keep fighting, shroud or no shroud.”
Nicci hissed, “Dear spirits, we don’t have much time. When is this supposed to take place?”
“Tomorrow night. The city guards are preparing. The morazeth have been bringing the slaves into great pens.”
She considered how to encourage, or even coerce, Mirrormask to call his followers and act now. She herself might have to take charge.
But first things first. “For now, let us remove one of the sovrena’s weapons. She won’t spy on us anymore.” She strode across the square into the open starlight, making no effort to hide herself.
On the opposite wall hung one of the reflecting basins, chest high and holding a still pool of water. Rendell remained in the shadows, calling out in a hoarse whisper, “If that is a scrying pool, you’ll be seen!”
“I intend to be seen.” Nicci marched boldly to the wall. Her black dress was swallowed in the night, but her blond hair and pale skin made her identity obvious to any observer. She stepped up to the hemispherical reflecting pool and looked down into the calm, still surface, like a mirror.
She stared at her reflection. “Are you watching me, Sovrena?” Her clear blue eyes gazed back at her, but Nicci imagined that they were Thora’s eyes. “I am here. I am alive. And I mean to destroy you.” She lowered her face until it was only inches above the water. “But you’ll never know when I come for you.”
She released her gift with cracking force, shattering the curved stone basin, so that the shards crashed to the flagstones, spilling the water. A continuing flow leaked from a pipe inside the wall, a trickle from the aqueducts.
She turned to Rendell. “The rest of the rebels are doing the same. Come help me find more of the basins. We will gouge out the sovrena’s magical eyes.”
CHAPTER 66
The D’Haran army rode out of the mountains into the broad green valley that had once been the Scar. Sitting astride her horse, Prelate Verna looked ahead, scanning the landscape. After days of riding, she had named her horse Dusty, an endearing as well as descriptive term; Richard had taught her to name, and respect, her horse.
“Do you think we are almost to Cliffwall?” asked Sister Amber. Her eyes were sparkling. “I never knew the world was so vast.”
“You still have seen only the tiniest portion of it, child.” Verna was surprised by the ever-widening vistas. What if even the sweeping D’Haran Empire was just a small country in a continent of inconceivable size?
The young novice looked amazed, then briefly skeptical, but she gave a solemn nod. “I would never doubt you, Prelate.”
Oliver and Peretta, riding together on the same horse, gazed ahead of them. “We have to go around the valley to the north, then up into the high desert to find Cliffwall.” Oliver squinted, but could not seem to make out the details.
Peretta added, “We camped exactly eight times from Cliffwall to this point. But riding on horseback is much faster.”
General Zimmer held the reins of his black destrier and glanced back at the two young scholars. “That means we should be only days away.”
They followed a blurred trail, portions of which had once been a road, but much had weathered and washed away. The horses followed the gentle geography where streams had cut down to the valley.
“It looks like a beautiful place,” Verna said. “Wild and pristine.”
“The Lifedrinker’s mark is almost entirely erased,” Peretta said. “Look at the meadows, the new forests, the rivers and lakes. The valley is alive again.”
“I would not thank Victoria for what she did,” Oliver said.
As they rode into the twilight, they saw a sparkle of lights ahead, dozens of small fires. Worried that it might be an army encamped in the valley, General Zimmer dispatched scouts to investigate, and they rode back in the dark to say that the fires were the camps of settlers, people who had moved in and begun to build new homes and farms.
Rather than approaching the settlement, the general ordered that they bed down for the night where they were. He scratched the rough stubble on his cheek. “We’d terrify those poor people if a hundred armored riders arrived after dark. Let us wait until morning so we can come in as visitors, rather than invaders.”
After giving Dusty a withered apple for a treat, Verna lay on her blanket, listening to the night birds and insects. The Sisters of the Light camped close together, spreading out their bedrolls. They talked excitedly, knowing their destination was at hand. The soldiers played games and sang songs, relaxed with the comfortable routin
e of travel. Many remarked that they liked the landscape of the Old World, and although they missed lovers, wives, and children from back home, they certainly preferred this duty to marching off to war and battling hordes of cannibalistic undead. Verna drifted off to sleep, listening as a young soldier played a stringed instrument and sang a quiet tune about a girl he had left behind in Anderith.
The next morning, the group rode to the new village. Ten families had staked their claim beside a wide stream. When the settlers saw the contingent of riders approach, they stood together warily. Verna realized these people must have suffered much over the years and had learned to fear strangers, but General Zimmer introduced himself and insisted that they came in peace.
“This valley is fertile again,” said a bearded man in mud-streaked clothes. He had fastened a makeshift plow to the settlement’s lone ox, and now stood beside the big animal. The villagers had cleared and tilled several acres of the land. Woodcutters had chopped down trees and worked them into logs for construction. “For a long time, nobody could live here, but now this ground is perfect for crops. And untouched.”
A thin woman with large eyes and prematurely gray hair came forward to greet General Zimmer and Prelate Verna. She gestured to the largest building they had constructed. “That one will be a schoolhouse. Once this settlement is established, more people will come down from the mountains to join us.”
“Many were driven out as the Lifedrinker’s Scar grew and grew,” said the first farmer. “But this valley is our ancestral home. It was ours long ago.”
“And the valley is yours again,” said General Zimmer. “We come with the news that the Imperial Order has faded, Emperor Jagang is dead, and Lord Rahl now wants you to be free to determine your own lives, without tyranny or oppression.”
More people came close, including three children, all covered with mud because they had been helping plant seeds in the new furrows. They all smiled at the soldiers.
“We are just riding through, finding our way to Cliffwall,” Verna said. “You have nothing to fear from us.”