Death's Mistress

CHAPTER 47

As he began to grasp the sheer breadth of the library, Nathan believed the Cliffwall archive might hold the secrets of the entire universe … if only he could figure out what he needed and where to find it. He pondered as he nibbled on an oat biscuit that one of the acolytes had brought him from the kitchens.

The problem was, no one understood the entire puzzle. Altogether, the hundreds of archivists and memmers knew only disconnected pieces. It was like trying to find the constellations on a cloudy night when only a few flickers of stars shone through.

Well, the constellations were all wrong now anyway, and everyone had to relearn the universe from scratch.

Nathan finished his biscuit and absently munched on another from the plate. He finished skimming the volume in front of him just as a shy young female scholar delivered more. Mia was one of the students assigned to assist him. About nineteen years old, she had short mouse-brown hair and darting eyes that seemed more accustomed to reading than making contact with other people.

“I found these for you, Wizard Nathan. They might contain viable lines of investigation.” She was a daughter of a canyon-dwelling family, and she had grown up learning to read and study. She had been born just after Roland fled Cliffwall and began to drain the life out of the world.

“Thank you, Mia,” he said with an appreciative smile. Whenever he asked her to find books or scrolls on a particular subject, she would hurry off and return with possibilities. As he ran his fingers down the words in ancient languages, Mia would often sit quietly beside him, reading books that had captured her own interest, hoping to help.

Now he picked up the top volume and opened the scuffed cover. “Ah, a treatise on enhancing plant growth.”

Mia nodded. “I thought it might offer some possible counteraction to the Lifedrinker’s magic that drains life. The foundational spell-forms might have some commonalities.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Nathan said, although he thought it unlikely.

The next volume in the stack was covered in letters he did not recognize, angled symbols and swooping curves of runes. The words seemed to exude a kind of power, and he touched the writing as if he could let the foreign alphabet seep into his fingertips. “Do you recognize this language?” he asked Mia. “It is not High D’Haran, nor any of the languages of the Old World that I know.”

The young woman pushed her short hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears. “Some of our oldest scrolls are written in those letters, but no one can read them anymore. Some say they were part of an ancient library stolen from the city of Ildakar.”

Nathan set the volume aside, since the incomprehensible writing rendered it useless to him. He was delighted to see that the next book contained maps of a broad land area, although without any frame of reference. One chart showed a range of mountains extending from rolling foothills to sharp crags. Dotted lines indicated winding, treacherous paths that led up to a summit. The exotic names of peaks and rivers were unfamiliar—until his eyes fixed on a pair of words.

Kol Adair.

He caught his breath. So, his destination truly existed—in that much, at least, the witch woman had been right. He wondered if the broad valley on the map represented the once-fertile basin that had become the Scar.

Nathan felt a desperate longing to have his magic back, if only to help in the fight against the Lifedrinker. Nicci couldn’t be required to save the world on her own. Upon beginning this journey, he had not cared overmuch about losing his gift of prophecy, since all the forked paths and dire warnings had caused him nothing but grief. But his gift of magic was such an integral part of him that he had taken it for granted. It made him whole.

He tapped on the map, but his own needs would come later. He set aside the volume and pondered the Lifedrinker’s spreading desolation. Nathan went back to his books, still searching for the answer.

* * *

Nicci, Bannon, and Thistle reached the sheer rock wall below the mesa, glad to leave the bleak Scar behind. Thistle climbed up the steep slope, easily finding half-hidden trail markers and ledges on the way to the alcove opening high above that led back into the plateau and the archive city.

As she climbed, Nicci looked back the way they had come. The powdery dust whipped across the desolate crater like a miasma. When Bannon stopped beside her at the entry alcove high up on the plateau wall, they all stood together looking out at the devastation. The Lifedrinker was somewhere deep at the center of the crater.

“Are you anxious to go back there, Sorceress?” he asked.

“No,” she answered honestly, “but I know we must.”

Nicci could still feel a tendril in her mind of a prowling feline presence—a lonely presence. Mrra was out there, roaming the uninhabited wilderness. The spell-bonded cat had spent her life as part of a troka with two sister panthers, both now gone. The healing magic had filled that void with Nicci, but she didn’t know how to help.…

When they returned to the Cliffwall gathering chambers, Nathan hurried out to join them, glad to see them back safe. Hearing about their battles with dust people and sand panthers, he gave Bannon’s shoulder a paternal pat. “Did you use the swordcraft I taught you?”

Bannon nodded. “Yes, I remembered everything you showed me.”

Nicci remembered how wildly the young man had flailed with his blade, but he had fought the enemies, as needed. She couldn’t fault Bannon for that.

“I killed as many as he did,” Thistle boasted.

“Of course you did, child,” Nathan replied with a wry smile. “And that is exactly what we expect of you. But Bannon is my protégé, and I wanted to make sure he acquitted himself well. As you did.”

“Even though you weren’t supposed to come along,” Nicci said, though her reprimand had no sting. “I’m glad you know how to take care of yourself.”

The girl looked up at her. “Am I your protégée, Nicci?”

The idea surprised her. This orphan girl was certainly useful, and eager to help, but Thistle hadn’t shown any particular aptitude for the gift. “A protégée in what way? I cannot train you to be a sorceress.”

“But my reading is better now. I can help you find books in the library. You said you needed to do a lot of research.”

Nicci was surprised to realize she wasn’t averse to the idea. “You can help, so long as you don’t get in the way.”

“I won’t!”

When the scholars gathered, Nicci gave a more detailed report of the desolation, the cracked canyons, the fumaroles and mud pots, as well as the Lifedrinker’s defenders. She sketched out a map, as best she could remember. “I am sure there will be more powerful guardians closer to the evil wizard’s lair. We must be ready.” She raised an eyebrow at Nathan and all the eager scholars. “As soon as you find me a weapon I can use to kill him.”

Simon lifted his chin. “I am confident the answer resides here in the archives.” His fellow scholars gave intent nods and muttered among themselves. “We just have to find the right records.”

In the dining hall, they all sat down as servers brought in the evening meal. Thistle ate with her hands—both hands, since she was voraciously hungry. Victoria led her student memmers into the room, taking them to Nathan so they could describe some of the subjects they had committed to memory.

The three beautiful acolytes sat next to Bannon, leaning close and listening to his every word. Audrey, Laurel, and Sage found excuses to feed him morsels of food from his plate: roasted vegetables, freshly baked rolls, skewers of spiced lamb. Warming to his tale, the young man talked with exaggerated gestures. Sage picked up a cloth napkin and dabbed the side of his mouth. His cheeks turned pink.

Audrey giggled. “Look how his freckles stand out when he blushes!”

The comment only made him turn brighter red. “I appreciate your attentions. I don’t often have such a … beautiful audience.” He swallowed hard, then gulped from a goblet of spring water, muttering, “Sweet Sea Mother!”

Victoria stepped up behind Bannon and gave the acolytes an encouraging smile. “I understand your attraction to the young man,” she said, as if Bannon weren’t there. “I hope you three don’t turn out to be barren and childless, as I am.”

Bannon blinked. “I—I don’t want to stay here and marry anyone.” He looked at Nicci as if hoping that she would save him. “We’re on a mission.”

Nicci regarded him coolly. “After I saved you from the cutthroats in Tanimura, I told you to rescue yourself from then on. You will have to meet this challenge on your own.”

Bannon blushed again.

Victoria sounded sad as she stood like a mother hen behind the three young women. “Dry, dusty scrolls cannot possibly make up for carrying a life inside you, or holding a newborn baby. Someday you’ll know.”

The three acolytes smiled.

Victoria stepped over to Thistle, who was finishing a second handful of grapes. The girl still wore her dusty, raggedy clothes from the journey out into the Scar. “I have good news for you, child.” She set a cloth-wrapped parcel onto the table and began to undo the knotted twine that held the edges together. “We have very few young children here in Cliffwall, and certainly no suitable clothes, so therefore I asked a skilled seamstress to make this new for you.”

She held up the garment, shaking the fabric to unfold a small, trim dress made to fit Thistle’s scrawny form. It had been dyed bright pink.

Thistle stopped chewing a mouthful of grapes. “A new dress?” She frowned uncertainly, not sure how to react. “I’ve never had a dress like that before.”

Victoria continued to smile. “You no longer need to wear rags. You are such a pretty girl, and this will make you even prettier. Do you like the pink? It comes from cliff roses that grow in the canyons.”

The dainty dress seemed unsuited for the girl’s life of running through the desert and hunting lizards. Thistle looked at Nicci, who responded with a hard honesty. “In general, I dislike the color pink.” So much so, in fact, that Nicci had once used Subtractive Magic in a wildly inappropriate fashion just to erase the pink dye from a satiny nightdress she had been made to wear in the Wizard’s Keep.

“I think I like my old dress better,” Thistle said. “This one is very nice, but I wouldn’t want it to get dirty when I follow Nicci on her explorations. We’ve got the whole world to see after we kill the Lifedrinker.”

Victoria chuckled. “But, child, you’re with us now, here at Cliffwall. You will stay and be one of my acolyes. I will teach you how to read and understand the spells, and soon enough you will be able to memorize hundreds of books. You will become our newest memmer.” She patted the girl’s arm.

Nicci felt on edge. “But is that what the girl wants?” Thistle looked back and forth from the matronly memmer woman to the sorceress.

“Of course it is,” Victoria said. “I will take you under my wing, child, clean you up, and train you.”

Thistle squirmed on her bench. “I want to read better, and I want to learn things, but I won’t just stay in Cliffwall. Nicci can teach me while we’re out exploring the world. For Lord Rahl. It’s an important mission.”

Victoria gave a dismissive gesture. “Flights of fancy, child. Better to read adventures than have them for yourself. I can protect you.” She gripped the girl’s bony shoulders, squeezing hard.

Thistle ducked and slid closer to Nicci, leaving the pink dress on the table. Nicci rose to her feet, on her guard. “Enough, Victoria. The girl is with us.”

The memmer woman looked angry, as if unaccustomed to anyone defying her wishes. She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “You know the child needs care and an education. We’ll train her how to remember.”

Nicci’s voice was as hard as forged steel. “Thistle must make her own choice. Her life is her own to control.”

“I want to hunt lizards and climb the canyon walls,” she interjected. “Nicci promised to take me across the Old World.”

Nicci assessed the increased level of tension in the room. The scholars had stopped eating, listening to the escalating verbal battle.

Victoria fixed her gaze on the sorceress. “Are you the girl’s mother? By what right do you make decisions for her?”

“No, I am not the girl’s mother. I was never meant to be a mother. That was a choice I made.”

Victoria’s mood shifted in an unexpected direction. “And have you ever thought it might be the wrong choice? Why would a beautiful, strong, and obviously fertile woman like yourself choose not to create life? I wanted so badly to have children but wasn’t able to!” Her voice rose as she grew more incensed. “No one has ever denied me an acolyte before. Who are you to deny me?”

Nicci thought of many answers, but chose the one with the most power. “I am Death’s Mistress.”