Shroud of Eternity

by Terry Goodkind

  They passed a grocer toiling uphill with a cart filled with limes, lemons, and bunches of dark grapes. Carpenters carried their tools over their shoulders as they walked to work sites, because Ildakar was always being cleaned, maintained, and built higher. One gifted noblewoman, her long gown made of rose-colored silk, strolled along while a slave walked a plump orange tabby cat on a leash.

  They passed fountains, where common workers and slaves drew water, washed themselves, and carried jugs back to their homes. Narrow tiled channels drew the water through all parts of the city, and aqueducts ran beneath the streets.

  When Amos led them to the precipitous drop-off to the Killraven River, Bannon’s stomach grew fluttery as he looked down. The bluff was sheer, the sandstone gnarled and pockmarked. Some agile and daring climber might be able to scale that dangerous cliff, but any slip would mean certain death.

  Amos stood beside him, gesturing to the sheer drop-off. “See what the wizards of Ildakar can do? This was a city right on the edge of the river, on the bank. The Killraven carved out this great valley, with a plain extending in all directions, but access from the river made us much too tempting a target, much too weak.”

  “We were never weak,” Jed said.

  Amos frowned at him for the interruption. “The vulnerability was enough to attract invaders like maggots to a corpse.” He swept his hands out to either side. “So our wizards pulled on the land, uprooted this side of the plain, and lifted it up to create this high, defensible bluff. The wizards intentionally left a single protected port down below, where riverboats could dock. Large vessels also come in from the distant bay far downstream, where the Killraven drains into the sea.”

  Far below, Bannon saw a complex network of docks and piers that jutted out from the sandstone at the level of the river. There were small boats, fishermen, mud trollers, shell harvesters, reed gatherers.

  “How do they get anything into the city from way down there?” Bannon asked. He looked at two flat barges loaded with barrels from other villages upriver.

  “Look closer,” Amos said.

  Bannon leaned over and saw a line of notches in the bluff face that zigzagged dizzyingly up one level, then the next. He remembered climbing the canyon walls to reach the great library buildings in Cliffwall, but this looked far more treacherous. “How could anyone do that carrying loads of cargo?”

  “We don’t want to make it easy to get from the river up to the city. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Amos’s voice was sharp. “Watch how the slaves do their work.”

  Near one of the wooden docks, a fisherman had loaded baskets of fresh catch on a wooden platform connected to ropes that extended up to cantilever arms, pulleys, and counterweights. Another trader had brought in cut stone from a quarry on the other side of the river. When they loaded their goods on the platform, workers at the midlevels of the bluffs turned large interconnected wheels to tighten the ropes and ratchet the platforms up.

  “People must ascend the stairs,” said Amos, “but the merchandise can be lifted very conveniently.”

  “Convenient, so long as we have enough slaves,” Jed said. Bannon wondered why they couldn’t just do it with their powerful magic.

  Far below, the river flowed against the unlikely cliffside, curling green and white. “The ancient wizards even changed the current, brought the Killraven closer, then spread it out down there to the south, making the land beyond the bluffs a large impassable swamp, which discouraged overland travel. The marshes are a labyrinth of twisted trees and mud pits.” Amos’s lips quirked in a hungry smile. “And our fleshmancers twisted some of the native creatures to create horrific monsters, serpents, and lizard dragons that now infest the swamps. No one can get through from that direction.”

  “But General Utros came from over the mountains and across the plain,” Bannon said. “They would have battered down your walls, torn open your gates, and conquered your city.”

  Jed and Brock looked at each other, their expressions troubled. Amos just sniffed. “That’s why we had to turn them all to stone. Utros failed, Emperor Kurgan’s reign collapsed … and Ildakar is still here, as powerful as ever.”

  At the edge of the cliff several streets away, an ornamental tower stood high and thin, with observation windows around the top. Bannon saw two figures inside the tower, looking toward the river and waving, shouting. The lookouts switched the banners flying from the top of the tower, removing one that showed the city’s sun-and-lightning-bolt symbol and replacing it with a blue triangular cloth that flapped in the wind. As other Ildakarans noticed the change and heard the shouts, they picked up the call.

  “What is it?” Bannon said. “Have they seen something?”

  Amos, Jed, and Brock all peered downstream. “Look! The boats are coming at a good pace.”

  Bannon spotted two large, low boats straining against the current. Each had one square midnight-blue sail stretched tight. His blood ran cold.

  “They must have used a lot of blood to summon a breeze like that,” Amos said, his voice critical. “Must be in a hurry to dock.”

  “They’ve seen Ildakar, so they know the shroud is down,” Jed said. “They want to conduct their business before it’s too late.”

  The two ships moved rapidly closer. Even though they pushed against the current, they seemed to be guided by a determined magic. Bannon’s stomach curdled. He saw the wide beam and the low lapped hulls; he knew that each prow would bear a monstrous carved serpent.

  “Those are Norukai ships,” he whispered. “Are they coming to attack Ildakar?” He hoped he would watch them be destroyed by whatever magical storm the wizards would rain down upon them. He squeezed his sweaty hand around his sword’s hilt. He would fight them himself if need be.

  Amos chuckled. “Of course not, you fool! The Norukai are our best trading partners. I wager those two ships are bringing another hundred, maybe two hundred captives.”

  “We could use some fresh blood,” Brock said. “The slave market will be busy tomorrow.”

  “Slaves?” Bannon asked. “They’re raiders! The Norukai capture innocent people in villages.” Like Ian.

  “They bring slaves, which we buy,” Amos said, giving him a strange look. “We have to replenish our ranks. A lot of slaves run away thanks to Mirrormask, and who knows how much blood magic will be required to raise the shroud again?”

  Thinking of the torment his friend must have endured, all those scars, all that pain, Bannon saw a black haze of anger form at the edges of his vision. He was deaf to the excitement as the people of Ildakar went to greet the raider ships that docked against the bluffs below the city.

  CHAPTER 26

  A day after arriving in Serrimundi, Oliver and Peretta bade a tearful farewell to the fisherman Kenneth, who had brought them all the way up the coast from Renda Bay. The bearded man had enjoyed the long journey, but he was anxious to get back aboard the Daisy and head home.

  He squeezed Oliver’s narrow shoulders so hard that the young scholar felt two of his vertebrae pop. Kenneth gave Peretta an equally enthusiastic, but gentler, hug. “Don’t worry, girl, you look like you break easily. I’ll be careful.”

  She frowned at the comment. “I can endure anything that Oliver can.”

  “And you have,” Oliver said. “We make a good team, Peretta. We’ve gone this far.”

  Peretta touched her temple, closed her eyes. “I’ve stored all the impressions and details in my thoughts.”

  “Since I’m not a memmer, I wrote down careful notes in my journal,” Oliver said. “That way others can read about our journey.”

  Peretta gave him a consoling look, as if he had confessed a weakness.

  “Even without you two aboard the Daisy to help,” Kenneth said, “I’ll have a nice voyage back south. I always preferred my solitude.” He looked up at the creamy white buildings of Serrimundi surrounded by tall cedars that stood like dark green spearheads lining the boulevards and covering the hills. “No one from Renda Bay has ever
ventured this far, but now that I’ve done it, there’ll be others. It may be worth the trip now and then.”

  While he was in the large port, Kenneth had loaded his fishing boat with weapons—swords and shields, axes, maces and hammers—manufactured by the renowned weaponsmiths of Serrimundi. “We have fletchers and bow makers back home, but it’s hard to get good steel for swords. These will do nicely.” He spoke in a conspiratorial fashion as he stood with one boot on the side of his boat and the other on the dock. He swayed to keep his balance. “I even purchased plans for siege towers and defensible walls. There might be some good ideas we can use to defend Renda Bay. We intend to be ready next time the Norukai come … and they will come.”

  “Best of luck to you,” Peretta said.

  “Someone in Serrimundi will take us the rest of the way up to the New World,” Oliver said. “We’ll be all right from here.”

  Kenneth unlashed the ropes and cast off with a shove from his boot. He set sail and drifted out of the bustling harbor. Oliver and Peretta watched him head back toward the towering statue of the Sea Mother, who seemed to emerge from the high cliffs at the mouth of the harbor.

  “Will we be?” Peretta asked.

  Oliver blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Will we be all right?”

  He touched her shoulder. “We’ve been just fine so far, you and I.” He knew he was no manly warrior who could lead troops, nor a scout who could guide them across uncharted terrain, but their skills were roughly equal. “Between the two of us, we’ll be fine. You help me as much as I help you. Haven’t you memorized a great deal of information about where we’re going?”

  “Not really.” She sounded shy. “But I do know about trade routes. Maybe I can draw on that knowledge to find someone who will take us to Tanimura, and from there to Lord Rahl.” She closed her eyes and concentrated, sorting the knowledge in her head, while Oliver scanned the other boats in the harbor. Finally, they left the docks and went together into the city.

  Serrimundi was built around the delta of a river that emptied into the sea with many branches that flowed through the city. The people had tamed the arms of the delta into well-behaved canals. Gondola pilots moved small boats up and down the watery alleys, delivering people to small household docks.

  The city was filled with busy people wearing colorful garments. Oliver and Peretta listened to the cacophony of voices, music played by sailors from distant lands, the rattle and creak of ropes in pulleys, the sway of wooden crates, the slosh of waves against hulls, and the calls of wine sellers, shell merchants, or corner-stall prophets who claimed to tell fortunes.

  Peretta’s dark eyes sparkled with an idea. “We should report to the harborlord. That is a man of power here in Serrimundi.”

  Oliver patted the documents he kept in a pouch at his waist. “Yes, and we have news for him … about the Wavewalker.”

  * * *

  Oliver and Peretta sat in the second-story office of the harborlord, a flat-faced man named Otto with a sincere expression, caramel-colored eyes, and curled locks of dark hair that dropped past his shoulders. He wore a wide-brimmed leather hat even inside his office. The windows stood wide open, and shrieking gulls outside interrupted their conversation. Brisk, salty breezes stirred the papers on the harborlord’s desk.

  Oliver removed his pouch and set the journals and documents in front of him, keeping his hand on top of them. He hesitated, knowing he was about to give Otto difficult news.

  A woman came in carrying a tray of fruit juices and a plate of small, round cookies that sparkled with cane sugar. Harborlord Otto looked up and smiled. “Ah, my daughter Shira. She should actually be home tending her children, but she loves working in the office. She is, in fact, my business partner.”

  The woman looked at them, tossed her hair. “My own husband is out to sea and the children can take care of themselves.” Shira had long reddish-brown hair combed to a glossy sheen. She had the widening hips of a woman who had borne several children and lived a hard domestic life, but she was still beautiful.

  Oliver spoke up as Shira approached with the tray of refreshments. “We have news from travelers who came inland, three people—a sorceress, a wizard, and a young swordsman. They were aboard a ship named the Wavewalker.”

  Shira froze, holding the tray.

  Oliver didn’t notice her sudden intense silence. “Sir, I am sorry to report that the Wavewalker was shipwrecked, attacked by selka down along the Phantom Coast. As harborlord, you need to know. All hands were lost, except for the three I mentioned.”

  With a loud crash and a clatter, Shira dropped the tray of juice and cookies. She stood trembling as if someone had struck her a physical blow; then she spun away, weeping. “I must see the Sea Mother. I must pray.…” She reached the door and stopped, gripping the jamb so hard that her knuckles turned white. Her nails dug into the wood. She heaved several breaths, and finally turned back. Tears streaked her cheeks. “I must pray for guidance on how to tell my children that their father is lost at sea.” Then she fled the office.

  Otto looked dour and grim. His shoulders lifted, then fell as he let out a sigh that sounded like the wind of an oncoming storm. “Captain Corwin was a decent man, an adequate husband and father. Any wife of a sea captain knows she’s bound to receive news like this sooner or later. The Wavewalker was gone for much of the year, but the captain fulfilled his contract. He made sure that my daughter and their children had food, had a home.”

  Moving with painful slowness as if he couldn’t face what he was doing, the harborlord opened a desk drawer and withdrew a sheaf of handwritten papers that had turned brown with age, some so old the purple ink was faded. Finally, he pulled out a document, the old marriage certificate. He shook his head. “Shira is the daughter of the harborlord. She and her children will be fine. I will find some other sea captain for her, a marriage under the same terms.”

  Oliver found that heartachingly sad. From the tales that Nicci, Bannon, and Nathan had told, Captain Eli Corwin had been a good man who fought hard for his ship. Oliver hadn’t known about his family.

  Harborlord Otto looked across the desk at them. “Thank you for this news. I mean that sincerely.”

  Peretta seemed lost. “But we just told you the ship sank, the man is dead. Why would you thank us?”

  “The agony of worry is often worse than the dull ache of grief. Better to know for certain, than to spend month after month in empty hope. Each day Shira would come down to check the newly arrived vessels, asking if anyone might have brought news of the Wavewalker. Now she knows.” He sighed. “We’ll make many offerings to the temple of the Sea Mother … and I will inform the wishpearl divers as well. Their training master sent his best five aboard the Wavewalker for an extravagant fee, which Captain Corwin was willing to pay. I believe the training master had hoped to send others on later voyages. Now they’ll just have to find a different vessel and a new ambitious captain.”

  He spread more documents on his desk, securing them with heavy lumps of dried coral so the sea breezes would not blow them away.

  “We were hoping our news might be worth something to you,” Peretta said, “for we are on a mission of our own. Serrimundi is now part of the D’Haran Empire. Lord Rahl has brought freedom to all the cities of the Old World.”

  Otto drew his eyebrows together and straightened his hat. “I’ve heard a story or two, but there’s been no change in our daily lives. If Lord Rahl thinks he’s our new ruler, I suppose he’ll send people down to impose taxes.”

  “From what we understand,” Oliver said, “Lord Rahl is most interested in guaranteeing rather than imposing a way of life.”

  The harborlord grimaced. “You mean, like the Imperial Order? Serrimundi had to pay lip service to Emperor Jagang, as well as a substantial tithe, just so he would leave us alone. Since Serrimundi caused him no trouble, he directed his armies elsewhere.” Otto suddenly sat up. “In fact, I believe he sent all of his armies northward to fight some up
start leader named Richard Rahl. Hmmm…”

  “Yes, that was it,” Oliver said. “But Lord Rahl doesn’t mean to enforce harsh rules like the Imperial Order. He wants all cities and lands to espouse freedom, to let people choose their own destinies, to create their own self-worth, and to depose tyrants. In order to be part of the D’Haran Empire, all lands must simply abide by a set of established rules based on human decency.”

  At least, that was what Nicci and Nathan had said.

  Otto set another lump of coral on the remaining stack of papers, which he had not yet read. “Then Serrimundi will get along just fine with the new situation. But what is it you need?”

  “We need passage north,” said Peretta. “We come from Cliffwall, far inland. We have already been traveling for a month, but we must make our way to the New World and eventually find someone who can deliver our reports to Lord Rahl. I can recite them, if I meet him face-to-face.”

  “And I have them written down.” Oliver gathered up his documents, stuffing them back in the leather pouch.

  “We have ships sailing from Serrimundi up the coast, and many go as far as Tanimura.”

  “We don’t require anything fancy,” Oliver said, then lowered his voice. “Because we can’t really pay.”

  “In that case, I have something just for you. My brother Jared runs a kraken-hunting ship, and he’s about to set sail tomorrow. He lost some of his crew in an … unfortunate incident on his last run, but he intends to work the waters north of here. If you’re willing to lend a hand, and a kraken-hunting ship doesn’t bother you, I’ll have a berth for you right away.”

  “We don’t know what a kraken hunter is,” Oliver said.

  “All the better. I will make the arrangements.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Seeing the tension in Nicci’s demeanor as they stood together in the slave market, Nathan said, “The legends of Ildakar are better than the reality. This bothers you, Sorceress, and I understand why.”