Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 52

After she had cleaned the blood from herself, Nicci went to the fleshmancer’s studio to watch over Nathan. Andre invited her inside, delighted with what he had done. He was charged with nervous energy as he paced back and forth around the table where he had performed the sorcerous operation.

Lean and handsome, Nathan lay stretched out on the flat surface, his face slack, his skin pale, his long arms at his sides. His eyes were closed, his white hair spread out around his head. Clumps of dried blood smeared the skin and hair below his ears and neck. Nicci couldn’t tell if the blood belonged to him, to the slaughtered combat animals, or to Chief Handler Ivan. His broad chest was caked with additional dried blood that did not obscure a wormlike line that wiggled from the base of his throat down to the center of his chest.

“That looks like a long-healed scar,” she said, “but you did your work just last night. A potent healing spell?”

Andre beamed. “Far more than that, Sorceress. As I told you, I am a master fleshmancer. I shaped his skin, redesigned his insides, and provided him with the heart of a wizard. A new heart. I’m certain Ivan wouldn’t mind.…”

“But will Nathan’s body accept a foreign heart?” She felt certain that the cruel chief handler would not have been Nathan’s first choice.

“That is up to his Han,” Andre said. “I created a complete map of the gift throughout his body, and I could sense the strands myself. I reconnected them, using Ivan’s heart. In theory, his gift will be restored when he awakens. The heart will beat again, and Nathan will be a true wizard once more.”

Grinning, he reached down to touch the broad, naked chest, stroking the scar line carefully, casually. “It is some of my greatest work, maybe even better than the combat bears or that two-headed fighter.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now that was quite an accomplishment!” As Nicci regarded him with a cool stare, Andre’s eyes took on a wistful, distant look. “But not better than my Ixax warriors. Oh, no! Now those three are special—a shame they have never been used.”

Nicci didn’t know what the eccentric fleshmancer was talking about. “When will we know if it worked?”

“The dear man did endure quite a traumatic experience.” Andre smirked. “Not quite as traumatic as Ivan’s, naturally, but he is in a deep recuperative slumber. The Han must coil and uncoil, regrow within him, connect its strands, and find itself once more. Nathan must also discover his new heart.”

Nicci didn’t take her gaze from the old wizard’s form. She considered remaining here to guard him, to make certain that Andre did not perform twisted experiments, just because he could. She realized that Bannon would likely be willing to sit a vigil here, too, sword propped in front of him, but she had not seen the young man. Feeling an increasing uneasiness, wondering what he was doing to occupy himself, she hardened her determination to find Amos and demand to know where their young companion was.

“What did you do with the body of Chief Handler Ivan?” she asked.

The fleshmancer lifted his chin. Parts of his thick braided beard had come undone, but he didn’t seem to care. “After I removed his heart, I had no use for the husk. Normally, a fallen duma member would receive a fine funeral of state, but I decided on something more befitting on behalf of my friend.” His lips quirked in a smile. “I had his body chopped up and fed to the remaining combat animals in their cages. Much more appropriate, hmmm?”

Nicci grunted, though she did not argue. “It does seem fitting.”

Nathan’s chest rose and fell with only the faintest sign of breathing. Nicci looked down, concerned for the man, for the wizard … for her friend. She asked again, “How long will he sleep?”

“Until he is healed.” Andre spoke as if the answer were obvious.

“And how long will that take?”

The fleshmancer shrugged. “Until he is healed.”

Nicci felt impatient. Nathan—the wizard Nathan—would be a great ally when he recovered, but right now, Nicci had plans to set in motion. Even with the city trapped beneath the shroud of eternity, she knew there must be some way to bring freedom to Ildakar.

Mirrormask had caused mayhem by unleashing some of the combat animals. While his followers had run among the beasts, the rebel leader himself had not been present, although Nicci suspected he might have been watching from a safe distance. How could he have resisted?

But Nicci didn’t know what exactly that turmoil was meant to accomplish. It was just an annoyance—a spectacular annoyance that had left its mark and resulted in the death of one of the duma members and all of those animals, but just an annoyance nevertheless. The reckless act had not been part of an overall plan. Richard Rahl would have developed a complete strategy for overthrowing a tyrannical rule. If Mirrormask had such a plan, Nicci needed to know what it was.

A sudden flare of instinctive defensiveness rippled through her. It seemed to come from outside of herself, and Nicci couldn’t identify it. She looked around, seeing the bubbling specimen tanks on the walls of the chamber in the studio, smelling the chemical powders and the sour old blood.

No … the feeling was something else.

Someone shouted in the spacious entry portico, “Wizard Andre! Another of the wild beasts has been caught nearby.” A uniformed city guard hurried into the studio’s main wing, squinting in the midnight-blue dimness. “High Captain Stuart begged me to come for your assistance.”

“Another animal? Did we not kill them all last night?” Andre asked in a huff.

Nicci felt a twinge again in her mind, defiance mixed with an instinctive fear. She shook her head to get the buzzing out of her thoughts, felt her skin crawl—and she knew where it came from.

Mrra.

“It is a sand panther, all alone, marked with the chief handler’s runes,” the guard said. “I don’t know about the other members of its troka, but we have to capture it alive. Sovrena Thora says we need the animals for the combat pits.”

“Then I shall create more, when I have time,” Andre said.

Nicci watched his attention shift from his patient to another amusing obsession, but she knew she had to take charge, to go to Mrra. “I will take care of this,” she said to the fleshmancer. “You need to stay here with Nathan. Make certain he heals as quickly as possible.”

Andre gave her a dismissive wave, bending down and placing his ear very close to Nathan’s nostrils. “I have no interest in chasing cats, no matter how large they are. I didn’t create them, you know. They’re wild sand panthers captured and forced to breed, and then we raise the cubs.” He shook his head. “Ivan used to enjoy that part, as I recall. Now his apprentices will have to do the work.”

“Three other gifted handlers are already with us in the warehouse,” the guard said, still breathing hard. “They are using their magic to try to control the panther. But they may need help.…”

Nicci was already pushing past him, out the front entryway. “Show me!” Her tone of command made the man snap to attention and hurry after her.

In her dreams, Nicci had seen through the eyes of her sister panther as Mrra prowled the streets, and the big cat had refused to leave, no matter how much Nicci insisted. Now Mrra was also bottled up inside the city and separate from time. For many nights she had hunted in the shadows. Nicci had tasted the blood of rats and dogs in her mouth from the panther’s kills, but she longed to run across the open prairies chasing antelope and deer. She was trapped inside the city she hated, where she had been born and branded and forced to fight in the combat arena.

Against her own interests, Mrra had stayed to be with her sister panther. With Nicci. And now she was imprisoned, surrounded by tormentors. She was looking for Nicci.

With a surge of smoldering hatred, Nicci viewed through Mrra’s senses and understood what had happened. Someone had accidentally discovered the panther’s daytime lair, and now guards and handlers closed in to capture her. Mrra was ready to fight, to attack, to kill.

Nicci raced ahead of the guard, drawn to where her sister panther cried out for her.

The building was a large warehouse filled with sacks of grain, burlap bags of ground flour. Wire-mesh hoppers held dried corn cobs. Daylight spilled through cracks in the walls, and dust motes swirled in the air like gold dust in a stream. As she and the guard entered through the large open doors of the warehouse, Nicci’s eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Sovrena Thora stood next to the wizard commander, both of them with arms identically crossed over their chests, as if they really were a dedicated couple. Three gifted apprentice handlers moved warily into the shadows, making their way among the sacks of grain and the half-full corn hopper. They looked unskilled and uncertain. Nicci had seen the apprentices working with Ivan before, but now that the chief handler was dead, their gift would have to be sufficient.

Wearing his red shoulder pauldron, High Captain Stuart shouted orders, directing his guards to box in the cornered sand panther. The armored men in front extended their short swords, while the three behind them held cocked crossbows.

“Don’t kill it,” said the sovrena. “We lost enough of our animals last night. We need this one for the arena.”

Nicci pushed her way forward, not caring who might resist her. She gripped the forearm of the nearest crossbowman. “Leave her alone. This panther does not belong here. She is mine.”

Thora’s eyes flared in surprise at Nicci’s interference. “No, she does not. The panther belongs in the cages. If she is to die, she will die fighting one of our trained warriors.” The tendons in her porcelain neck stood out. “With all the tension in this city, our people need the release of entertainment. Now that the shroud is up, we must get the city back to normal. It would be better if you chose to help us.” Her voice held clear threat.

Nicci whirled. “You must not send her to the combat pits. She doesn’t belong here with you.”

The wizard commander let out a scratchy laugh. “Where else should she be? She can’t leave Ildakar, and we cannot allow a wild panther to prowl the streets.”

She sensed a rush of predatory anger through her nerves, and she spotted the sleek feline form crouching among the tallest piles of sacks, up in the shadows. With a low growl, Mrra bounded up to one of the wooden rafters overhead. Her tail thrashed as she glowered at those who would trap her.

“I will take care of her myself.” Nicci didn’t know what else to offer. “She is my sister panther.”

“Nonsense.” Thora scowled at Nicci. “At least the sand panther belongs here. You and your companions remain only because we allow it.”

“I think she’s a charming and provocative guest,” said Maxim. “And as you said, my dear, where else should she be? With the shroud in place, Nicci cannot leave Ildakar.”

“There are other ways to leave,” Thora muttered.

Concentrating on the large cat in the rafters above, the apprentice handlers spread out below. The senior apprentice, a lantern-jawed man named Dorbo, said, “We can use the gift to push her back and capture her again.” Two of them carried long wooden poles with a nooselike loop around the end, and the third held a wicked-looking whip. The senior apprentice carried a club emblazoned with Ildakaran runes.

“Once we get the beast down to the floor level,” said the second apprentice handler, “we can incapacitate it.”

“That depends on how much pain she’s willing to endure,” said the third. “The stun spell won’t work with her protective runes.”

“The club itself will work well enough,” said Dorbo.

Nicci used a firm tone of command. “You will not harm her.”

Her comment elicited a glare from Thora. “We will do what is necessary for the good of Ildakar. I could have them truss you as well, Sorceress.” Maxim snickered.

Nicci did not flinch. “They are welcome to try, although with the death of Ivan, I wouldn’t suggest you sacrifice your remaining apprentice handlers. Then you’d have no one to control the animals.”

The wizard commander chuckled at the two of them. The archers nocked quarrels in their crossbows. High Captain Stuart watched anxiously, but he was calm and reserved, not willing to take precipitous action. He looked toward the rafters above, where the silhouette of the panther hunched out of reach.

“Remember, Sovrena and Wizard Commander, any regular magical attack will just slide off of her,” said Dorbo. “But the branded symbols do allow a handler to use certain types of spells. Let us do our work, and we will have the cat in hand in no time.”

Nicci felt as trapped as the big cat. Mrra had chosen a good lair, but it was only a matter of time before she was discovered. Nicci knew she could dispense with the handlers, but the wizard commander and the sovrena were both powerful with the gift. Nicci would still fight them, but even if she managed to keep Mrra free for now, what then? The big cat couldn’t simply wander the streets of Ildakar. Nicci’s heart ached.

The three apprentice handlers worked together, summoning their gift, prodding with their magic. Mrra snarled, paced back and forth along the wide rafter above. Her golden eyes glared down, and her white fangs gleamed in the stray sunbeams. Her growl was vicious and threatening … and Nicci caught herself making a similar growl from her own throat.

The handlers sent their gift into Mrra’s mind, forcing her to move. The sand panther had been trained and twisted in this manner when she was just a cub, and the handlers drove her now, jabbed her pain centers. With a roar she leaped from the rafter onto the mounded sacks of grain.

“That isn’t one of Ivan’s!” cried one of the apprentices. “Not the cats that escaped last night.”

“She’s an old one,” said Dorbo. “Must have been set loose by the rebels a long time ago.”

“She does not want to be here,” Nicci warned. “Don’t attack her. She will kill you … and I will help her do it.”

The handlers ignored her, using their combined gift to push and prod and drive. Mrra fought back, snarling. Nicci felt part of the pain echoing through their spell bond, and fury built within her just as a parallel fury built within Mrra. The panther crouched on top of the mounded sacks until, sufficiently provoked, she leaped for the gathered people on the floor.

Nicci shouted, “Be careful!” But she was warning Mrra, not the intended targets.

This was exactly what the handlers had wanted her to do. One of Stuart’s guards didn’t get out of the way quickly enough, and Mrra’s claws tore open the leather and chain mail on his back. The man staggered away, bleeding, but the cat did not bother with him further.

The three handlers closed in, Dorbo holding up his curled fingers to focus the gift. Together, they pummeled Mrra with their special magic, knuckling her under. Two extended their poles with the open loops. Dorbo removed his whip and cracked it through the air like serpentine lightning strikes. The tip struck Mrra’s haunch, drawing blood. She whirled, raking claws through the air to grab at the painful strand.

“Stop!” Nicci lashed out at the handlers with her gift, shattering one of their wooden poles into splinters. They stared at her in shock.

Thora twirled her right hand in the air, and Nicci felt unseen bonds of wind coalesce, wrapping her body like a cocoon, pulling tight in a suffocating grip.

Focused on their own target, the other two handlers slipped forward, jabbing the loops at the panther’s head, and one succeeded in slipping it around the tawny neck.

Nicci fought to get free, struggling to pull her arms loose. Shredding the bonds of solidified air, she dissolved the invisible ropes, then flung the magical tatters back at the sovrena.

Mrra thrashed to get away, but the noose was cinched tight. Both apprentices grabbed the pole, using all their physical strength to hold their captive.

“Leave her alone!” Now that she was loose, Nicci called crackling fireballs in each hand, ready to hurl them at the handlers.

Summoning a powerful counterattack with her magic, Thora sent a wall of air that knocked Nicci backward, slamming her into the rattling bin that held dry corn. “This is none of your concern, Sorceress.”

“Yes it is,” Nicci said. “This is Mrra. She is bonded to me.” She tried to summon more fire, but Maxim and Thora turned on her together, crushing down with a weight of air to hold her deadly fire in place.

“Do not interfere,” Thora warned. “Or Maxim will turn you to stone.”

Nicci drew a breath for a defiant shout, but then felt an impossible blow to her head and a blur of scrambled thoughts. One of the handlers had stepped away from the thrashing panther and struck her with his specially endowed cudgel. While Mrra’s runes might have protected her from a magical attack, Nicci had no protection against the stun spell.

While the debilitating magic rang through her skull, making her knees buckle, the handlers closed in and got a second loop over the cat’s head. Two guards threw a net over Mrra, and as she thrashed, guards swarmed in with ropes. One blow from Dorbo’s club—even without the boost of the spell—sent the sand panther writhing.

“We have her now!” said one of the apprentices. “We did it!”

Nicci forced her hammering thoughts to crystallize, and she threw off the efforts of the sovrena and the wizard commander. She felt the gift coiling through her like black lightning, and she drew herself up and faced Thora, her eyes flashing. “Mrra is part of me,” she growled, ready to release a storm of Additive and Subtractive Magic.

The sovrena stared directly back, her sea-green eyes as cold as a howling blizzard. “The panther belongs to Ildakar’s arena. See the spell symbols branded on her side? That beast is our property.”

“No. Mrra is free.”

The handlers managed to subdue the cat, using their magic to render her helpless. Mrra lay unconscious, growling and bleeding.

High Captain Stuart and his guards looked uneasily at the confrontation between Nicci and the sovrena, holding their weapons ready. She had no doubt whose side they would take if they decided to join the attack, too.

She knew she could kill all of them. Or most of them. If she had to.

Thora spoke sourly, as if lecturing a child. “Your belief in freedom is misplaced. Animals aren’t free. Slaves aren’t free. Lesser humans aren’t free. They are all property. Now that you are our guest under the shroud in Ildakar, you must understand how this city works. Ask the fleshmancer—those animals exist because of us. We created them.”

Nicci did not back down. She inhaled sharp dusty air. “Or did they create people like you?”

Thora prepared to lash out with her magic, and Nicci could feel the sizzle in the air around her. Maxim stood next to Thora, holding his gift at bay, but threatening nevertheless. The handlers also came to their feet next to the unconscious panther. Nicci felt the brewing magic all around her.

She even saw the archers pointing their crossbows toward her, ready to move should the sovrena or the wizard commander give a signal.

Though her defiance continued to rumble within her, Nicci was outmatched. Back at the fleshmancer’s villa, Nathan lay unconscious, recovering, and he might not ever be able to use his magic again. Even Bannon wasn’t there, wandering the city with his newfound companions. Nicci suddenly realized how alone she was in Ildakar. She could not fight them all. Not yet.

As her head continued to throb from the stun club, she vowed she would pick her time.

“Clearly I still have much to learn about this city.” Nicci meant her words to be as cutting as the handler’s whip that had struck Mrra.

“Indeed you do,” Thora said. “Take care to learn before you regret it.”

The handler apprentices and the guards took the bound panther with them, hauling Mrra out of the granary and off to the animal pens.