Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 16

When Verna, prelate of the Sisters of the Light, arrived in Tanimura, she saw that the city had changed dramatically, but not nearly as much as the world had changed. She could hardly believe it herself, but she fought to remain strong, because the Sisters depended on her.

After Lord Rahl defeated Emperor Sulachan and sent the omen machine Regula back to the underworld where it belonged, all prophecy was gone. The stars had shifted, and magic had changed throughout the world. Richard Rahl considered that a good thing.

But the Sisters of the Light were suddenly like a ship without a rudder, their sails torn by the turbulent storm of changed reality. They had devoted countless centuries and countless lives to studying and interpreting prophecy, and now all that effort was obsolete, useless. Returning to Tanimura was just a poignant reminder to her of how much was now different.

Verna had come south with a contingent of soldiers, members of the D’Haran army dispatched by Lord Rahl, to help consolidate the empire. She often walked wherever she needed to go, sometimes on long journeys accompanied by her fellow Sisters, sometimes traveling in disguise. This time, the prelate had a full military escort and a fine horse to ride. Richard Rahl had taught her how to appreciate her mount during their first journey together, when she had taken him for training in the Palace of the Prophets.

Even on horseback, the trip down from the capital of the D’Haran Empire took more than ten days, and the soldiers—especially an eager young captain named Norcross—attended to her needs, which were few enough. Norcross made sure that her tent was erected properly, that her bedroll was soft and dry, that she received the first servings from the camp cook tent.

Several days into the journey, Verna learned that the captain’s solicitous behavior was in part because his young sister, Amber, was a novice among the Sisters of the Light, joined only recently. Although Verna was prelate of the order, she knew little about the girl. There had been so much turmoil in recent years.…

Now, with her riding her black mare beside Captain Norcross, they topped a ridge and started down the well-traveled road to the outskirts of Tanimura. She could see the sweep of the city stretching out along the coastline, the green-blue crescent of the harbor, the numerous ships flitting about on the sea.

This wasn’t the first time she had returned to Tanimura. In fact, she had spent twenty years away from the Palace of the Prophets—and away from the antiaging spells woven into the structure of that place—in her original search for Richard. She had finally found him and then convinced him—coerced him—to come to the palace, where the Sisters trained him to use his gift.

That had set so many titanic events in motion … exactly to fulfill the prophecy. But now prophecy was no more.

“A lovely view, Prelate,” said Norcross. “Since I grew up outside of Aydindril, I’ve never seen the ocean before. How does a ship sail off into that watery emptiness and not get lost?”

“Their captains have magic of their own,” Verna said, “although some simply call it navigation. You’re not due to sail away from here, though, are you, Captain?”

“No, we’re here to establish the garrison. General Zimmer has already commandeered some large buildings on the waterfront, and he’s reinforcing them to hold five hundred, even a thousand soldiers who will eventually be stationed here. But that’s just the beginning.” The sandy-haired captain smiled at her, and she noticed that his left front tooth was a little crooked, giving him a roguish look. “Now that the Imperial Order is defeated, we’ll be setting up garrisons down the coastline and throughout the Old World.”

Verna pressed her lips together. “That is the best way to insure that no great tyrants rise to power again.”

Sparse pine trees lined the side of the road, but many of the hills had been cleared for firewood and construction material. The air was warm as they rode onward. She wanted to take a break in the shade to eat a brief midday meal, but she longed to be back in Tanimura, her home.…

As they rode down the rutted road, she heard the punctuated rumble of other horse hooves as the hundred D’Haran soldiers rode along in the column. On the outskirts of town they came upon paddocks that held sheep and goats, large household gardens, orchards of old apple and pear trees. Farther in, the dwellings became more crowded, some of them poor and ramshackle, while others were well maintained by families who felt that even a shack deserved to be kept clean and well repaired because it was their home. People emerged to watch as the soldiers rode in under the banners of D’Hara. Captain Norcross raised a gauntleted hand, waving at them.

Verna sat straight-backed on her black mare, looking at all of the smiling people and feeling out of place. Her brown eyes were still bright, though they showed the beginnings of weariness from her age, and her wavy dark hair was still mostly brown, except for the increasing gray strands she discovered when she studied herself in a mirror. The years were weighing upon her, not just from time, but from the heavy responsibility as well.

She knew at least ten other Sisters had come to Tanimura ahead of her, hoping to return to the Palace of the Prophets. Prelate Verna felt the same pull on her heartstrings, but when she gazed around the shoreline to the flat brown expanse of Halsband Island, her heart ached in a different way.

Across a bridge from the Kern River, the island had once been home to the truly titanic palace, an ancient structure large enough to rival the Wizard’s Keep or the Confessors’ Palace in Aydindril. But now it was gone, leveled, when Richard brought down the entire structure by triggering the embedded spell webs. That disaster had destroyed the antiaging spells, the protective webs, the countless chambers and tunnels, the towers, the libraries, the vaults beneath. The Palace of the Prophets had simply disintegrated. Richard had done it to keep the incredible knowledge stored there from falling into the hands of Jagang, the evil dreamwalker who could have used that lore to crush the world.

And in the chaos of the palace’s destruction, the prophet Nathan had somehow managed to escape, to break free of the iron collar around his neck, the Rada’Han, and to fake his own death. He had slipped away with Verna’s predecessor, Prelate Ann. Verna wished she could give that responsibility back to the older woman; she had never wanted it.

“The island looks so empty,” she said. “Has anyone searched the ruins of the palace?”

“You’ll have to ask General Zimmer,” Norcross said. “I haven’t been here before, but from what I’ve heard tell, there are no ruins to search.” His smile turned into a frown. “There’s just … nothing.”

As they passed through the streets of Tanimura, the horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestones. They rode through squares where children clambered up the sides of buildings to hang pennants of D’Hara. From the shelter of alleys, small dogs barked at the long line of soldiers, but the D’Haran horses were as well trained as the men, and they did not spook.

Norcross continued to wave, calling out to the people, “We bring greetings and good wishes from Lord Rahl.”

The crowds in the streets waved and shouted, “Lord Rahl, Lord Rahl!”

Verna knew that here, far to the south, these people had faced the oppression of the Imperial Order, and they had good reason to celebrate Richard’s victory, but they had escaped the recent war of the soulless half people raised by Hannis Arc and Emperor Sulachan.

When the contingent finally reached the waterfront, Verna smelled the salt air and smiled as she looked out at the busy harbor, where creaking two- and three-masted ships filled the piers. Fishmongers, shell sellers, and merchants waving exotic items vied for the attentions of passersby. Painted women in filmy clothes leaned out of brothel windows, flirting with the soldiers, confident that their business would pick up soon.

Verna spotted the newly constructed garrison headquarters that had replaced several dockside warehouses, fronted by a stockade built from fresh-scrubbed timber. Captain Norcross informed her that the soldiers had spacious new barracks inside the garrison, but many of the inns and large warehouses had also been pressed into service to accommodate the increased military presence. As the long column of horses rode along the waterfront road, watchmen at the garrison walls blew horns to call the stationed soldiers to order. The new stockade gates opened, and armored men came out to greet them.

The horses cantered into the garrison yard while soldiers hurried out to flank them and greet them. Captain Norcross slid off his dappled gray horse and took the halter of Verna’s black mare. “I’ll help you down, Prelate. General Zimmer will want to see you right away.”

“You overstate my influence. I am just your guest,” she said. “He should be far more concerned with accepting your reinforcements for the garrison.”

Norcross laughed. “Dear spirits, Prelate, sometimes you say amazing things! Don’t you realize how important you are?”

Verna held her tongue, thinking about how the foundation of her entire order had turned to quicksand with the end of prophecy, how the Palace of the Prophets was nothing but a memory and a few broken scraps of rubble. “I am no longer so important as you might think.”

Another pang struck her heart as she thought of Warren, once her student, then her beloved husband, whose tragic death had left her devastated. Some days she thought that her identity as a widow was far more consuming than her identity as the prelate of the Sisters of the Light.

When Richard had descended into the underworld, trapped on the twilight verge of death, he had spoken with the spirit of Warren and brought back a message for her that Verna cherished more than any prophecy or proclamation. But it was her message, and she kept it wrapped in pretty bows of memories and stored close to her heart. Now she was alone, but not alone, because she had work to do. She had come back to Tanimura, and that carried certain responsibilities.

Among the soldiers milling about to receive the new arrivals, she saw colorful dresses, red and green and blue, worn by the Sisters of the Light—her companions, ten of whom had arrived ahead of her. One novice Sister looked like just a fresh-faced girl, far too young to have any responsibilities or heavy teachings from the Sisters.

“Amber!” Norcross called out as he hurried forward, laughing.

His sister’s dark blond hair hung in ringlets around her face, and long tresses fell below her shoulders. She had sparkling deep blue eyes that laughed along with her voice. “You took your sweet time riding here, Brother. I almost left you to find some other man to cherish me.”

“There are plenty of men who would be happy to marry you, Amber,” he said. “But you’re too young yet.”

“I am a Sister of the Light, and proud of it,” the girl said, then suddenly realized that Verna was watching her. She blanched and stammered, “Prelate, I’m very sorry. I did not mean to be so casual and friendly in your presence.”

Verna gave her a maternal look. “Child, the Sisters are not so grim and studious that we don’t allow happiness. Enjoy the reunion with your brother.” She lowered her voice, talking as much for her own benefit as for the young novice’s. “Dear spirits, we have enough pain. We should cherish whatever joy we can find.”

A deep male voice boomed out, “Prelate Verna! I’m glad you kept my soldiers safe on the trip down here.”

Verna turned to see General Zimmer, a young man she had first met as a much-lower-ranking officer, now only about thirty, but because so many military leaders were slaughtered in the recent war, Zimmer had unexpectedly risen in rank far above his expectations. But his heart and his mind were strong, and he accepted the increasing burdens each time one of his superior officers was killed, leaving him in charge. He had dark hair and a thick neck, but when he smiled, Zimmer looked much younger than expected.

Striding forward, he extended his arm for her to take and escorted her toward the command office in the two-story headquarters building inside the stockade wall. The structure was built from freshly hewn pine boards, sanded and fitted together, still redolent with a sweet forest scent that reminded her of spring. Workers on the roof were hammering wooden slat shingles into place. Inside the fence near the training ground, rows of canvas sleeping tents had been erected while larger permanent barracks were built. The sounds of sawing and hammering were as loud as the sounds of soldiers drilling.

Zimmer led her into his office on the upper level, where he kept the broad windows open to the sea breezes. The raw floorboards creaked as they walked across them, and Verna took the offered wooden chair in front of the general’s desk. “I called for tea as soon as I saw you ride up, Prelate,” Zimmer said. “To refresh yourself and to inspire conversation.” He scratched his cheek, where a dark stubble was already prominent even though it was barely midafternoon. He shouted for his adjutant, who hurried into the room with a steaming pot, two porcelain cups, and a small jar of honey. “After the long road, I thought you’d like the amenities.”

“I don’t need to be pampered, General,” she said, although she was glad for the tea.

“And who’s to say that I don’t?” He poured a cup for her and then for himself, and he did not skimp on the honey. “Sometimes hints of civilization remind us what we are fighting for.”

She took a sip with a smile. “To tea and honey, then—for D’Hara!”

“For D’Hara.” Though he had been recruited as a very young soldier, Zimmer already spoke with a solid military demeanor. He got down to business. “You bring reports from the People’s Palace? The men have been asking if Lord Rahl intends to visit us in Tanimura.”

“I know nothing of Lord Rahl’s plans. He has an empire to run and many urgent matters, I’m sure.”

The general mused, “He told me once that the D’Haran Empire effectively encompasses the entire world, but how are we to know how vast that is? How is he to know? Though my own journey to Tanimura was uneventful, and this garrison is secure, I’ve seen maps of the coastal cities and even sketchier reports of the Old World beyond, many cities, the Phantom Coast, and many islands beyond. As the world goes, we may have seen only one grain of sand on a very long beach.”

Verna nodded. “That could well be true, General. There will be explorers, there will be ambassadors. We can see this world and make sure that Lord Rahl’s golden age touches them all.”

Zimmer smiled as if he had hoped she would make such a comment. “In light of that, Prelate, I have received a report you may find interesting. Nathan Rahl, the wizard and prophet, came through Tanimura some months ago.”

Nathan? Verna was surprised. “He is no longer a prophet. There is no more prophecy.”

Zimmer did not seem bothered by her correction. “Even so, a man likes to keep his titles. He was with Nicci. From Tanimura, they both booked passage aboard a three-masted carrack, the Wavewalker.”

Verna was always surprised to hear about the former Sister of the Dark and how greatly she had changed. Nicci had been with Verna in the Palace of the Prophets for many years, but she had secretly served the Keeper. She had done much to destroy the order as well as Richard Rahl, but she had changed, and Nicci—who once called herself Death’s Mistress—was now one of Richard’s staunchest allies.

Verna’s lips curved in a distant smile. “I knew Lord Rahl had dispatched them together, but I am surprised Nicci stayed with Nathan. I would not have thought they’d be good traveling companions.”

“Soldiers do their duty,” Zimmer said. “Although Nathan and Nicci are not soldiers, they both have the same goal—to see that Lord Rahl’s cause succeeds.”

“How long have they been gone? Where did they go?” Verna asked.

“They sailed south, and there has been no word from the Wavewalker since. Apparently, they went to explore those empty places in our knowledge, to meet local leaders and tell them about Lord Rahl, perhaps to establish treaties or agreements. They have much work to do.”

He poured a second cup of tea for each of them. She added a dab of honey, stirred it, then drank. The tea was surprisingly good for something concocted in a rough-hewn military garrison.

Zimmer’s face darkened. “Even though Jagang has been defeated and the Imperial Order disbanded, there is still so much unexplored and ungoverned land. The Old World seems to be a fertile ground for tyrants.”

Verna wrapped her fingers around the cup, feeling its warmth, enjoying the sense of peace as she sat across from this brave military man, smelling the fresh pinewood and seeing the bright sunshine out the window.

She said, “If there are a dozen new tyrants out there, I’d still bet my money on Nicci.”