Shroud of Eternity

by Terry Goodkind

  Upon receiving the writ of credit from the D’Haran treasury, hand-delivered by General Zimmer, the harborlord arranged for a third ship to join the expedition and then rounded up the requested horses from local stables and ranchers in the coastal hills. The mounts were a mixed lot, but all healthy and strong. The general dispatched a request for payment by courier on the next northbound ship. Zimmer assured the harborlord that all bills would be paid by Lord Rahl. Although the Serrimundi merchants and inland herd masters had been skeptical, the price offered was substantial, and they took the chance.

  Harborlord Otto looked at Oliver and Peretta, shaking his head. “We owe these two a debt … or at least my daughter does.” Then he smiled. “And it is an excuse for us to strengthen trade with the cities to the north.” He patted the promissory note and tucked it inside his open shirt. “If it opens our markets with the rest of the D’Haran Empire, it’s worth gambling on a few horses.”

  * * *

  The three ships sailed below the Phantom Coast, led by the large vessel they had conscripted in Serrimundi. The captains and crews were noticeably more anxious, since these were entirely uncharted waters. They doubled the lookouts, wary of hidden reefs as well as vicious selka. Every person aboard had heard reports of how the Wavewalker was destroyed.

  Captain Ben Mills came to report to the general in his cabin in the stern, where Prelate Verna sat with him, discussing plans for after they disembarked in Renda Bay. Captain Mills carried a disorganized bundle of rolled charts tucked under his arm. He fumbled with them, juggled the rolls, and let most of them drop to the cabin deck. He rescued one and spread the chart out on the small table next to General Zimmer’s bunk.

  The captain wore a salt-weathered gray uniform and a cap over his long and unruly white hair. His wrinkled face had been hardened by years of sun and ocean wind, but a smile softened his face to the consistency of well-worked leather. “We sailed south as you commanded, General. Captain Piller from the Serrimundi ship is most familiar with these waters, but not from actual experience.” He cleared his throat, rubbed at his Adam’s apple. “In my trading route I rarely ventured this direction. Other than a few fishing villages with no harbors to speak of, there’s nothing down here, a great uninhabitable expanse.…” He shook his head. “I know we’re following the orders of Lord Rahl, but I certainly hope you know where you’re going.”

  He traced his fingers along the chart showing familiar cities and ports of call, but the lines were more uncertain toward the bottom of the map, with ominous notations, question marks, and drawings of fearsome sea monsters that lay in wait for sailors who ventured too far from home.

  “I’m confident the two scholars from Cliffwall know where they’re going,” Verna said. “They were meticulous in noting their journey. Beyond the Phantom Coast, the lands are inhabited again. Renda Bay is sizable, and there are many other settlements upriver and in the mountains.”

  “Think of it as a future trading opportunity, Captain,” General Zimmer said. “A whole continent of new customers for you, and new allies for D’Hara.”

  The captain scratched his tangled locks of white hair, adjusting his cap. “If you say so. The stories from old mariners say that this desolation goes all the way to the edge of the world.”

  “Unlikely,” said Zimmer. “No doubt it’s just an intemperate section of the coast, sluggish currents and unpredictable breezes. We’ll get past it.”

  The weather had been accommodating, and the three ships remained in sight of the coast, but the water turned brown. The heat increased as the sun baked down day after day, and the breezes were no stronger than the breath of a dying man.

  “I used to be confident of my records,” said Captain Ben, “but the currents and constellations have changed.”

  “You can learn the world all over again.” Verna still felt optimistic about what the great archive of Cliffwall held for them. “Consider yourself an explorer, Captain. We discover new things every day.”

  “Indeed we do. It’s very exciting,” he said in a deadpan voice. He rolled up his chart again and retrieved the other rolls on the deck.

  * * *

  The horses did not like to be confined belowdecks. After several days, many were sick, weak, and restless, but the two Cliffwall scholars insisted that Renda Bay was not far. “We have to be close,” Oliver said, squinting at the distant shoreline. “I don’t know the currents, but our voyage north was no longer than this, and we were in a very small boat.”

  “I recognize those landforms,” Peretta said. “No more than a day, I would guess.”

  The next morning was surrounded by a blanket of thick fog. The mist felt cool and welcome after the sluggish heat of the past several days. All three captains trimmed their sails because they could not see the way ahead. The fog intensified the silence in the air, made the lapping waves sound louder, amplified the creak of wood in the hulls and the masts.

  Verna came out on deck wrapped in her Sister robes. Feeling the dampness on her skin, she pulled the fabric close and peered into the white murk. High above, the lookout called, “Ho there! A boat ahead—a small vessel.” His words carried across the water, and lookouts on the other three ships took up the call.

  A voice responded from the mist, “It’s not a small vessel! This is the Daisy, a fine fishing boat out of Renda Bay.”

  Oliver and Peretta stood close to Prelate Verna. They both waved, though the fog was too thick for anyone to see them. Oliver said, “It’s the fisherman who took us up to Serrimundi.”

  Peretta called out, “Kenneth! We came back with sailing ships and an expeditionary force.”

  The fisherman laughed. “Is that my two friends from far away?”

  The Daisy drifted closer, resolving from a dim silhouette in the mist. Peering over the rail, Verna saw a sturdy midsize fishing boat and the figure of a man at the bow. He seemed to be the only one aboard.

  Zimmer’s soldiers crowded the decks of all three ships, but Kenneth did not seem intimidated. He stood with his hands on his hips, his shirt open wide to expose his chest even in the cool misty morning. He lifted his bearded chin, laughing. “I thought I was the only one who sailed this far north. These waters are usually empty, and the old tales say that this is the end of the world. Fortunately, Oliver and Peretta showed me otherwise.”

  Verna called down, “And we were told this is the edge of the world as well, but from the opposite direction! A good thing the edges can meet.”

  All three sailing vessels dropped anchor, and Kenneth tied the Daisy to the flagship and came aboard to meet with General Zimmer and Captain Mills, though he was more eager to be reunited with the two young scholars from Cliffwall.

  Seeing Kenneth climb aboard, Peretta turned to the captain with a proud sniff. “I told you we were close. Renda Bay is just down the coast.”

  “Now, it’s not all that close,” Kenneth corrected her. “I’ve sailed north for two days on this run. I catch the best fish up here, because there aren’t any other fishermen in the area.”

  “I hope your catch is for sale, because my men are tired of eating smoked beef and salted mutton,” General Zimmer said.

  Kenneth’s eyes lit up. “Smoked beef and salted mutton? I will happily trade my catch for such exotic food.”

  They looked at one another in surprise, then burst out laughing. The deal was easily struck.

  When the fog burned off, Kenneth set out in the Daisy, guiding them around a small patch of treacherous reefs. By dusk the next day they arrived in Renda Bay with great fanfare, the three large ships anchoring outside the mouth of the half-moon harbor. Kenneth took a load of people into the bay aboard the Daisy, while the members of the D’Haran army lowered smaller boats and rowed a dozen passengers at a time over to shore, after which they began the more tedious task of building rafts in order to unload the many horses.

  Verna and General Zimmer rode with Oliver and Peretta aboard the Daisy, sailing directly into the harbor to spread the news and gat
her the townspeople. Thaddeus, the town leader, was astonished to see the three huge ships outside the mouth of the bay. He met the Daisy on the dock.

  Oliver greeted him with a relieved smile. “We’re back, and we brought reinforcements. They can help defend against attacks if the raiders come again.”

  Stepping out onto the solid dock, General Zimmer looked at the towers under construction on either side of the harbor’s mouth, then turned to look at the low stone walls the villagers had erected just above the rocky beaches. “I see you’ve begun preparations already.”

  “We are making our own fortifications against the Norukai,” Thaddeus said, “but it is difficult work. Our people are exhausted from rebuilding the homes that were burned during the last raid.” He squinted at the three ships anchored just outside of the bay. Verna followed his gaze, but the low sun was in her eyes and she could see only silhouettes. Thaddeus let out a relieved sigh. “When I saw your ships approach, I thought it might be Norukai again. We’re not accustomed to large vessels that aren’t a threat.”

  “Oh, we are a threat,” General Zimmer said, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “But we’re a threat to your enemies.” He looked skeptically at the watchtowers and the stone walls. “It looks to me that we could offer some advice and expert manpower. My men belong to the D’Haran army, specially sworn to defend Lord Rahl against all enemies, and also to protect his people.”

  Verna added, “Even this far south, Lord Rahl considers you his people.”

  As the first cutter tied up at the dock and a group of relieved soldiers climbed onto dry land, Zimmer spoke to the pilot of the small boat, who was about to turn about and head back for the next load of passengers. “Have Captain Norcross come in the next wave. I have a local assignment for him.”

  The pilot and two rowers turned about, plying their oars to return to the anchored ships without resting. Zimmer crossed his arms over his armored chest as Thaddeus led them into the town. “We are leading an expedition upriver and overland, eventually to Cliffwall.” He seemed concerned with the unimpressive stone barricade walls and the half-completed guard towers. “But it is also part of my mission to defend against enemies, and those Norukai sound like precisely the sort of enemies Lord Rahl warned us about.”

  The town leader breathed swiftly, as if he couldn’t get enough air to express his gratitude. “If you left some of your soldiers here to help us build better defenses against the slavers, we would be eternally in your debt.”

  “Not our debt,” Verna said, “but Lord Rahl’s.”

  “And the way you can repay it,” Zimmer added, “is by helping to insure the cause of freedom throughout the world.”

  “That is a debt we will gladly pay,” Thaddeus said. “We will do everything we can to help you.”

  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, “Wizar
d 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.”