She was inside Ildakar now, the hated city, the place of pain. Where her sister panther was.
Nicci rolled restlessly in her sleep, uneasy, not accustomed to sensing fear from the sand panther.
Mrra drove away her skittishness and kept moving. She stuck to the shadows. There was much food to eat here, although the hunting would be different.
From her trancelike state, Nicci tried to communicate with Mrra. “You must hide! Hide! Find a place before dawn comes.”
Mrra kept moving through the lower levels of the city, which were relatively empty in the deep heart of the night. Guards patrolled the streets, and Mrra sensed armored soldiers in the distance, many of them walking alone, some in groups of three or four. A few other people were about—night workers who stuck to the main thoroughfares, and some who liked the shadows as much as Mrra did. Human hunters.
She heard a muffled shout ahead, a scuffle, a fight. Curious, but wary, Mrra padded along, darting around the corner of an alley to where she could see an open street. Three brown-robed humans were attacking one of the lone city guardsmen.
Nicci saw through the panther’s eyes, but also through the filter of Mrra’s experience. Everything seemed different. The three human figures were attacking the guard like a troka of panthers bringing down large prey. The guard fought, but the human predators were stronger.
Mrra smelled blood.
Nicci smelled blood.
But it did not make either of them hungry. Instead, the scuffle attracted attention, and Mrra melted back into the darkness, concerned only with finding a place to hide before the sun rose.
CHAPTER 23
What remained of the Palace of the Prophets—if anything—called to Verna and repelled her. The entire island had been devastated, the immense structure wiped out after having served the Sisters for three thousand years. But the possibility of finding some small, valuable remnant had made the prelate embark on her long journey to Tanimura.
Ever since the world changed—along with many of the rules the Sisters of the Light had followed—Verna had been searching for answers, or even the right questions. Maybe she would find them here. She reminded herself that she was still the prelate, even though she didn’t know exactly what that meant anymore.
When she arrived in Tanimura and reported to the garrison, she could have gone immediately to Halsband Island, to see for herself, but she decided to rest for a day, to reestablish connections with the ten Sisters who had arrived earlier. Certainly they would have already gone to weep at their former home.
The soldiers of the D’Haran army were busy constructing barracks for the influx of new arrivals, but General Zimmer had already designated one set of barracks for the Sisters. Verna appreciated the gesture and accepted her new quarters, but she thought the women might be better off finding someplace in the city. For thousands of years the Sisters had been well respected in Tanimura, and she was sure someone would remember them fondly.
On the other hand, the Sisters of the Dark had wrought great havoc on the city, tearing the harbor apart, wrecking ships. And when Richard had triggered the destructive light web integrated throughout the palace, that Subtractive Magic had unleashed more devastation than the city had ever seen. The island had been empty ever since.
But maybe something remained. Maybe …
General Zimmer had invited her to be his guest at dinner, but she begged off, knowing that Captain Norcross needed to present his full briefing from the People’s Palace, to describe the recovery of D’Hara after the end of the recent war in the Dark Lands. It was a time of healing and expansion, and of remembering those who had fallen.
After reuniting with the ten Sisters, Verna talked with them late into the night, but the next morning, she woke refreshed and restless. The ruins of the palace called to her, and she knew she had to go. Since the other Sisters had already gone back to the ruins, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, Verna wanted to explore the rubble on her own, whether or not she found anything.
Some of the others tried to discourage her. “We’ve already searched, Prelate,” said Sister Rhoda. “And searched and searched. It will only break your heart.”
“Truly, nothing useful remains,” said Sister Eldine, who tied her thick black hair back in a braid. “It will only remind you of all we have lost.”
“My heart is already broken, and perhaps I need to be reminded of what we have lost.” Verna had made up her mind. “Nevertheless, this is something I need to do. I consider it a pilgrimage.”
But Novice Amber, Norcross’s fresh-faced sister, was solicitous, wanting to spend time with the prelate, and Verna decided to take only the girl with her. The company might do her good. “Amber and I will explore,” she said. The other Sisters nodded in acceptance, though they clearly doubted the prelate would find something they had overlooked.
Verna and the young novice left the garrison just after sunrise and made their way across the city, crossing the wide bridges that spanned the fingers of the Kern River as it spilled into the sea. She was too set on her mission to notice the brightly garbed people in the streets, the yellow D’Haran flags flying with the stylized-“R” symbol for Lord Rahl.
Something about the lovely Amber reminded Verna of her own daughter, Leitis, when she was young. A long, long time ago, the child had been fathered by the wizard Jedidiah … so long ago that Leitis had died of old age by now, and Jedidiah was dead from his own treachery. And yet Verna went on. She didn’t know who she was anymore. Maybe she would find her answers here.
The two women passed a weaver’s street, a warehouse filled with bolts of cloth, from warm wool to dyed cotton, even expensive silk. Amber looked in all directions, her deep blue eyes wide and excited, but Verna kept moving at a brisk pace. She asked, “Why did you join the Sisters, child?”
“Because it is what I aspire to, Prelate.” The girl straightened, recovering her resolve. “I hope that through hard work and dedication I can be worthy of the order.”
“I can already tell that your heart is worthy, but if prophecy is gone and our teachings are no longer valid, I am not sure what the Sisters can offer you. Our focus was so much on prophecy.”
They paused at an intersection as a well-dressed man and woman rode by on two horses. The man touched the brim of his hat and nodded respectfully at Verna, though she didn’t know how he had recognized her.
Amber continued, “The Sisters are revered. I’ve dreamed of joining you all my life, and now that I’m here, Prelate, I don’t want to give up that dream.”
“Maybe it’s only a dream,” Verna said.
“The Sisters are still real to me,” Amber insisted.
Verna smiled at the girl, conceding. “And we are happy to have you.”
When they reached the outskirts of the city and the wide stretch of river, Verna could finally see Halsband Island close at hand across the open water. Her heart sank with dismay as she stared. “I was prepared for this, yet I could never be prepared enough.”
The bridges that had connected the island to the mainland were wiped out, vaporized in the detonation of the light web that had brought down the palace. The island itself looked as if some great hand had swept across a tabletop, knocking away all debris and leaving only an empty surface.
Now a barren stretch of river flowed past, leaving the island isolated. The water, formerly green as it spilled into the ocean, was now clogged with silt. A few large broken rocks thrust above the waterline, creating hazards. Several fishermen in flatboats poled around in the shallow river mud.
“How will we get across?” Amber asked.
Verna picked her way down the slope, pushing low shrubs away so she could reach the riverbank. “One of those fishermen will take us,” she said with confidence. “I am still the prelate, after all, and I doubt they would deny my request.”
On the rocks and sand of the open bank, Verna raised a hand to attract their attention. Amber waved more vigorously and called out, and one young fisherman poled his flatboat over,
obviously more interested in the beautiful young novice than in the old prelate. When he brought his boat ashore, Verna could see four long catfish lying belly-up at his feet, their heads bashed in but their whiskers still extended and twitching.
“You must be anxious for a catfish dinner, coming down to get my catch before I even row to market,” the young man said brightly. “How can I help you, dear ladies?”
“It’s not fish we’re interested in, but a ferryman. We’d like to go to the island. Can you take us?”
A troubled cloud crossed the young man’s tanned face. “Nobody goes to the island.”
“Then we shall have it all to ourselves.”
Skeptically, he turned to Amber. “Do you really want to go there?”
At the bottom of the flatboat, one of the catfish twitched, and the young man snatched up a cudgel in his left hand and bashed it again with a wet smack.
“Yes, we do,” Amber said. “I’m with the prelate. We’d like to see what remains of the Palace of the Prophets.”
“Not much.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been there myself once, at night. It’s a bad place.”
“It is a place of great historical significance,” Verna said. “And it is close to my heart.”
“Will you take us?” Amber asked. “Please?”
“Of course.”
Verna primly sat balanced on the flatboat’s single low bench, and Amber struck up a brief conversation as the young fisherman worked his way across the current, finally reaching the shore of Halsband Island. Verna looked across the bleak, rocky surface, seeing nothing … nothing at all. The young man was worried. “Do you want me to drop you off at any particular place?”
“Dear spirits, it doesn’t seem to make much difference,” Verna said, then sighed. “This is fine, right here.”
She kept her balance as she climbed out of the flatboat, while Amber easily sprang onto the shore. “How will we get back?”
“I’ll come for you,” the young man volunteered.
Amber flashed him a flirtatious smile. “You would have our gratitude, but how will we contact you?”
“Just come back here when you’re ready. I can fish up and down the current nearby, and I’ll see you. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“An acceptable solution,” Verna said, climbing up onto the rocks. Amber followed her, waving a quick good-bye to the young man as he pulled away.
Verna set her gaze ahead, trudging forward. Her shoes crunched on the broken rocks. Tears stung her eyes, and she refused to look at Amber, because that might encourage questions from the novice, and Verna didn’t have the heart to answer questions. She didn’t know if she ever would again.
“You are much too young to remember this place. The Palace of the Prophets was one of the grandest buildings in the Old World, constructed by wizards three thousand years ago, before the great war, before the barriers went up. I came here much later, as a novice myself, and eventually I took on my duties of studying, then training. We helped so many gifted young men. Those who didn’t know how to cope with their growing magic suffered terrible headaches, and they died if we didn’t assist them in time.”
“Lord Rahl was one of them, wasn’t he?” Amber asked.
“Yes, yes he was. I spent decades away from the palace searching for him, knowing that he was out there somewhere.” She touched her graying hair, felt the fine wrinkles on her skin. “I lost so much of my life that way, spent so many of the years I was allotted.” She knew that if she had stayed inside the antiaging spell webs of the palace, she would still look young and healthy. “I don’t regret it,” she whispered.
“What did you say, Prelate?”
Startled, Verna looked around herself, saw only the glassy shingle, the flattened remnants of what had once been such a magnificent building. “Nothing. We should keep searching, see if we can find a way underground. Some catacombs may have been protected from the blast.” She drew a deep breath. “I know that another secret library existed beneath the palace, a central site. Nathan and Ann once told me of its existence, but too late. If Emperor Jagang had gotten his hands on that knowledge…” She shook her head. “Maybe it was worth the cost—even this cost.” She let out a shuddering sigh.
They combed the rubble, walking over low rises, slipping as unstable rocks and debris tumbled loose, disturbed for the first time in years. Working together, they lifted slabs with surprisingly smooth edges, where the broken stone had half melted. The debris shifted and pattered, dropping into voids beneath the collapse. Amber slipped, her foot dropping into a gap, but Verna caught her arm as the girl let out a gasp. What could have been a broken ankle turned into a mere scrape, and Amber brushed herself off in relief.
Somehow, miraculously, a small clay figurine of a toad had survived in a tiny gap where two large blocks had fallen against each other. The figurine’s eyes were comically large, its lips smiling, its back glazed green. Verna had never seen it before. She carefully withdrew the object, held it out under the sunlight.
Amber beamed. “It’s adorable! How do you think it survived? A miracle?”
“Coincidence, and good positioning,” Verna said.
“Is it a powerful talisman of some sort? Do you think Prelate Ann kept it?” She leaned closer, but did not take the toad from Verna.
“More likely just a keepsake from one of the Sisters.” She rubbed her thumb over the green-glazed back of the toad. Though the figurine had no real significance, it meant something to her now, because it had survived the destruction of the palace. As she had survived.
They kept walking over the blasted landscape, hoping to find more, but they had very little idea where to look. Verna couldn’t even discern the outline of the original towers, the foundations of the main walls. No yawning holes revealed catacombs beneath, just collapsed gullies of settled rubble. Halsband Island had been flattened. Everything this place had been, all the secrets it had held, were simply crushed in the disintegration.
Although Verna had her answer soon after their arrival, they stayed for several hours. She realized that all the countless books hidden for millennia beneath the palace were obsolete studies and explanations of a world that was now irrevocably changed. The pristinely ungifted had departed from the world when Richard gave them a new universe to occupy, and that had solidified the foundations of magic, but now the star shift had changed everything again. While gifted were still prevalent, many of the magical rules were altered in unknown ways, some stronger, some weaker, or perhaps just different and unpredictable.
“I fear we’ll have to discover our knowledge all over again,” Verna said. “Everything we knew…”
Amber gave a surprising smile. “Then that means the Sisters of the Light have a strong purpose after all, doesn’t it, Prelate?”
Verna paused, considering, and felt a weight lift from her chest. The air smelled a bit fresher as she inhaled. “You may be right, dear girl.”
Together, they walked through the rubble and back to the shore, where the young man was not far away in his flatboat. “Tonight we will all have catfish for dinner,” Verna said.
CHAPTER 24
High Captain Avery looked shaken as he sought out Sovrena Thora the following morning, marching like an executioner’s apprentice into the main chamber of the ruling tower.
Nicci had decided to watch the wizards’ aloof political discussions while she waited for Nathan to finish his consultations with Andre. She felt she might find an opportunity to comment on ways they could better serve their own people, though she doubted they would listen. The ruling council seemed to have no real business to conduct, and their conversation served little purpose. Among the duma members, only Renn and Quentin were in attendance this time, apparently because they had nothing else to do in the city; the seats reserved for Andre, Ivan, Elsa, and Damon remained empty.
The sovrena sat in her ruling chair, bored, tapping laquered fingernails on the carved wooden arm. Maxim sat watching a large fly buzz in the air arou
nd him; he traced its path with his finger, and then, with a quick grin, he released his gift, and the fly turned to stone, dropping like a small pebble to clink on the blue marble floor. No one paid attention to Nicci.
Then Avery and another guard rushed in with a clatter of metal-shod boots, the lapped scales of fine armor jingling on their chests. Their faces were ashen. Avery placed a fist against his heart and took a knee on the blue marble tiles before the two rulers. “Sovrena, Wizard Commander! There has been a murder.”
Nicci became instantly alert, her blue eyes intense. Renn and Quentin sat up, forgetting their aimless discussion about repairs needed in the city’s largest tannery, or the choice of color for roof tiles on one of the silkworm hatcheries.
“A murder?” Maxim sounded intrigued rather than horrified. “Tell us.”
Avery regained his feet and looked at Thora rather than the wizard commander. “One of my guards on evening patrol last night was assaulted in a midlevel square, the one with the fountain of the dancing fishes.”
“That’s a nice fountain,” Maxim said.
“Silence, husband!” Thora snapped. “How was he killed?”
“Butchered,” said Avery.
The second guard said in a quavering voice, “Blood everywhere. Lieutenant Kerry was stabbed multiple times. His throat was cut and…” He couldn’t seem to find the words.
Avery answered for him. “The wounds were made with jagged glass shards.”
“How do you know this?” Thora asked. “Cuts could have been made with knives.”
“Because when they were done, the assassins thrust the shards into Kerry’s eyes and left them there.” Avery nodded to the sickened-looking guard next to him. “Captain Trevor here found the body.”
“It was full daylight by the time anyone sent word,” Trevor said. He had a round face, and his pale skin flushed easily. He removed his helmet so that his light brown hair stuck out. “The dead body had been there for hours. Even though people were up and about, no one reported it. Someone should have seen him. There were people—craftsmen, merchants, slaves—going about their morning business. And Kerry was just there, dead in the fountain … blood all over the place.” He swallowed hard. “And those glass shards in his eyes.”
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