Shroud of Eternity

by Terry Goodkind

  “Perhaps she should join us,” said Damon, stroking his long drooping mustaches. This evening he had tied tiny garnet baubles into the long pointed ends. “The ruling council is short two members, and she is strong enough. Maybe she offers a valid outside perspective.”

  “Actually, we’re short three members from what the duma should be,” Elsa said, glancing over at the statue of Lani frozen in place, “and therefore from what the ruling council should be.”

  Nicci announced, “Tonight the council will be short yet another member, after I remove Sovrena Thora from her position.”

  Gasps rippled among the wizards seated on their stone benches. Fleshmancer Andre ran his fingers down his thick braided beard. “Ah, so it is a challenge, hmmm?”

  “It is a challenge, by the rules of Ildakar,” Nicci said. “I find the sovrena unfit to rule. She is a despot and casts a shadow over this city. The duma members are also partially responsible for this harsh culture that hurts so many of its people.” She looked at the other wizards, accusing. “But the ship goes where the captain guides it. Therefore, I must take the helm and change the course of Ildakar.” She stepped forward, and the crackle around her intensified. “With Thora gone, maybe the rest of you will remember your humanity.”

  Maxim chuckled. “Keeper’s beard, how grandiose! This is more entertaining than I had hoped.”

  At the side of the dais, Adessa stiffened, ready to attack Nicci, but she did not move, waiting for instructions. Nicci focused on her main opponent.

  Thora glared at her husband and rose slowly from her seat. Nicci could sense the roiling power of the sovrena’s gift building around her like a cocoon of invisible but deadly magic. Her complex tapestry of woven braids twitched and writhed like a nest of snakes around her head. “You are not even one of us, Nicci. How dare you challenge me!”

  “I dare much,” Nicci said, then lowered her voice. “You made a grave mistake by capturing my sand panther … but that was only your most recent mistake.”

  Aloof, Thora glided down the two steps to stand on the open blue marble floor. Maxim leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his black pantaloons and placing his flat palms together. Nicci wondered whether he really wanted her to win—whether, as he’d said, his hatred for Thora ran so deep that he wished to see his wife destroyed—or whether perhaps he just wanted fresh entertainment in what he considered to be an endless boring life. Maxim said, “By our laws, she is allowed to challenge you. You cannot be afraid, Thora?”

  The sovrena’s face twisted in a grimace. She glared at her husband, then swung her gaze to encompass the entire ruling chamber. “This foreign sorceress knows nothing about our laws, our traditions. This challenge has nothing to do with a pet animal. She is a spy sowing sedition. She came here pretending to request help for a powerless wizard, but she meant to destroy our way of life from the beginning.”

  Nicci stood cold and defiant. “Not true. I would have liked nothing better than to find that this city was worthy of its own legends. But I swiftly realized that this is no perfect society at all.”

  “You are in league with Mirrormask and his rebels,” Thora accused. “And I can prove it.”

  The duma members muttered. Thora strode past her to a stone side table, where she picked up a porcelain water pitcher. Stepping to the center of the blue marble floor, the sovrena poured the water in a steady stream onto the polished stone. The water spread out in a broad, shallow pool. Thora cast the porcelain pitcher aside, where it shattered on the tiles. She held her hands over the puddle, summoning her gift.

  The reflective surface of the water stirred, swirled, and became like a window into preserved images.

  “We have been watching these strangers, along with many suspicious people,” Thora said. “This is a trick I learned from Lani before I defeated her. All of the washbasins throughout the city, the reflecting basins mounted on the walls, the still fountains—they are scrying pools.” And now she smiled.

  In his tall chair on the dais, the wizard commander perked up, surprised. The other wizards muttered. Even Adessa took a step forward from the dais, watching closely.

  “Any such pool is more than a mirror—it is a lens, through which I can observe, whenever I wish. What is reflected on the surface of the water can be reflected elsewhere, and I have watched Nicci and her impotent wizard companion. Behold!”

  She swept her hand in a circular motion, and Nicci saw herself reflected in the image standing next to Nathan. The sound emanated from the pool of water. They spoke in low voices in his room, late one night. Nicci remembered the conversation, which took place after she had made contact with Mirrormask and his rebels. Thora had selected the words carefully, pulling out damning snippets.

  We must find a way to overthrow this city’s leadership.

  The duma members grumbled, but Thora smiled. She flicked her fingers, summoning more words Nicci had spoken in private to Nathan.

  When we are doing the right thing, we are always in a position of strength. The ruling council will fall.

  Nicci stood straight-backed, cold. The images shifted again:

  As a sorceress, I am confident I could stand against any member of the duma. Maybe I should challenge them, become one of the rulers of Ildakar.

  She was shocked to hear her own words condemn her, but oddly some of the wizards in the chamber seemed more appalled to learn that Thora had been spying on all of them. “You can do this from any reflecting basin? Any fountain?” Damon stroked his long mustaches, clearly agitated. “You can use a scrying spell to observe any part of the city? Any person?”

  “Wherever I choose,” Thora said. Hearing the mutters of consternation, she turned on them. “Why? Are you plotting treason yourselves? If not, you have nothing to fear. Did you not just hear what the sorceress said?” She pointed an accusing finger toward Nicci, then down toward the repeating images reflected in the spilled water. “She has proclaimed herself guilty. Her own words prove that she intends to bring down Ildakar. She came here to sow discord among us. This is all part of her scheme. Watch.”

  Next, Thora displayed images at night, from outside in a shadowed city square when she had first met Mirrormask and his followers next to the fountain—a fountain whose water captured the images and words.

  I also support you, as do my companions. We can be a great help—if you have a plan. But the oppression in Ildakar is powerful.

  And the masked rebel leader’s damning response: You are indeed one of us, Sorceress Nicci.

  As Thora continued to show the results of her unexpected, magical spying, Nicci watched the distaste and resentment grow on the faces of the duma members. She defiantly faced Thora, who stood across from her on the other side of the spilled water. “You must eavesdrop on many private nighttime conversations … not just my own.”

  She ignored the images wafting up from the scrying pool. “This changes nothing in my challenge to you. I made no secret—I call you out. Without your corrupt leadership, there would be no unrest in the city. There would be no need for a Mirrormask. You created this situation, and you must be removed.” Nicci stepped up to the very edge of the spilled water.

  She thought about the lands Richard had freed, the incredible enemies he had defeated, the tyrants he had overthrown. If he could achieve such impossible victories, Nicci could do the same thing in his name.

  Thora laughed. “Do you wish to lie? Do you deny your sedition before the members of the duma?”

  “I deny nothing, because it means nothing. Those words don’t negate my challenge.” Nicci flashed a quick glance at Maxim, who nodded slightly. “By the laws of Ildakar, I still demand to face you.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Swelling with indignation, the sovrena stared at her challenger across the puddle that still reflected images of Nicci’s secret conversations. Thora’s voice dripped with scorn. “An outsider does not dictate to me. We granted you courtesy here in Ildakar because you were a gifted stranger, but now you make
me regret my welcome.”

  Nicci maintained her silence, waiting for her challenge to be acknowledged. Her gift coiled restlessly within her, hungry to be released.

  Lounging in his ornate chair, Maxim chuckled. “Regret it all you like, my dear wife—that doesn’t change the facts. Every member of the wizards’ duma knows the laws of the city. The rules have not changed since Lani defied you. Any gifted person may challenge the rule of Ildakar, to be decided by demonstration of powers—which we have by tradition interpreted to mean combat.”

  The sovrena glared at her husband. “What you say is true, even if this upstart sorceress chooses to corrupt our rules for her own purposes.” She studied the other wizards, trying to determine which of them sided with Nicci, and which would support her. Adessa lounged against the cool stone wall, watching the tense tableau with her flashing dark eyes.

  Nicci kept her hands loose at her sides, her fingers curled.

  Maxim shifted in his chair, sliding toward the edge of his seat. “What say you, Thora? We don’t have all night.”

  Thora stared at Nicci with her face drawn. “I, too, know the laws of our city, and I shall invoke my own rule. Anyone may challenge the ruler of Ildakar to combat.” Her lips twisted like a withered rosebud. “But as the challenged party, I also have the right to choose my champion.” She lifted her head, and the complex loops and whorls of her braids danced about. “This outsider is not worthy of my time or effort. Adessa, you are my champion.” She made a dismissive gesture as she backed toward the dais. “Kill Nicci for me.”

  The other wizards gasped. Andre chuckled. “This will be interesting, hmmm?”

  Nicci turned to look at the seemingly relaxed warrior woman, her skin covered with brand marks. Adessa held up her gauntleted left hand and touched the hilt of her short sword with her right. She came forward with a languid rolling gait, building up her wariness, her combat readiness. Adessa looked as dangerous as a deathrise flower.

  As the sovrena lowered herself back into her ruling chair, Nicci called, “You won’t fight your own battles? Not even to hold on to your personal rule?”

  Thora sat back, brushing a hand across the blue silk of her gown to smooth the fabric on her thighs. “I find it more satisfying to observe.” She nodded to Adessa. “Don’t disappoint me.”

  The morazeth came closer to Nicci, raising her short sword to fight. “I will not, Sovrena. I have corrected many arrogant pups in the training pits. They all have an exaggerated sense of their worth and their own abilities—until they are broken. This sorceress is no different.”

  Nicci turned her full attention to Adessa, locking her eyes with the fighter’s ageless stare. Adessa’s scars bore testament to how many vicious fights she had survived, but Nicci knew she would not survive this one.

  Adessa sprang forward without a flicker of warning, sweeping with her short sword while letting out a bloodcurdling yell.

  Nicci’s black dress flowed around her as she held up her curled hand and released the gift that was so impatient in her fingertips. Incandescent fire boiled up in her palm, a sphere of wizard’s fire the size of a ripe orange. She had no interest in a prolonged combat, did not wish to give Adessa the honor of a drawn-out fight. She just wanted to finish this and bring down Sovrena Thora.

  Nicci hurled the blazing ball, which struck Adessa in the center of the chest, spreading across her bare skin and the black leather wrap. It should have incinerated her. Wizard’s fire was one of the most horrific weapons Nicci possessed, a persistent unquenchable blaze that would burn an opponent and keep burning until it ate through the charred bones. But her fire merely rippled across the marks on the morazeth’s naked skin and flowed around to dissipate in the air behind her. Adessa didn’t even pause in her attack.

  Nicci ducked as the short sword whistled through where her neck had been. She felt the steel skim across her loose blond hair, snipping a few strands. Adessa landed on her studded sandals, spun, and attacked again. Nicci lunged out with her magic, releasing a hammerblow of condensed air that should have flattened her opponent, but again the wind simply flowed across her spell-branded skin, without touching her.

  She heard Elsa gasp in her seat, while Andre chuckled. From the corner of her eye, she saw Thora on her throne. The sovrena wore an expression of seething anger, while beside her Maxim grinned, one leg crossed over the other, as if he had not enjoyed himself so much in a long time.

  Nicci’s fierce wind skirled and ricocheted around the walls of the high tower, rattling the windows, but Adessa was immune. The morazeth closed in, swinging her gauntleted fist. The blow crashed into the side of Nicci’s face, making her reel away, her cheek gashed by the brass studs.

  Nicci folded herself backward, bending as far as possible so that the backsweep of Adessa’s short sword barely missed gutting her.

  “Your magic doesn’t work on a morazeth,” Adessa said. “You should have been warned.”

  Still stinging from the blow to her head, Nicci recovered, braced herself. “Then I’ll fight you without my magic.” She never took her eyes from her opponent as she drew her two daggers, one at each hip. “It’s all the same to me.”

  Thora leaned to the side and spoke to her husband. “I told you this would not take long.” Her voice hardened into an accusation. “I know you put her up to this, Maxim. She will pay for it, and I’ll make you pay as well.”

  “You are too quick to judge, my dear wife. Watch.”

  Nicci held the two daggers in a loose grip as she kept moving, circling, watching Adessa. The morazeth’s sword was longer than the daggers, but Nicci would be nimble. Her dress constricted her, the fabric gathered around her legs, the bodice hugged her waist and chest, while Adessa had nothing to confine her.

  And nothing to protect her.

  Nicci jabbed with the dagger in her left hand, provoking, feinting, then slashed with the knife in her right hand. Adessa easily dodged and drove in. Nicci lured her close enough so that when the morazeth jabbed with the short sword, Nicci released her right-hand dagger, letting it clatter to the floor. With her hand free, she snatched the warrior woman’s wrist in an iron grip to keep the sword away, then swept her left leg and stomped down on Adessa’s foot. She heard bones crunch beneath the sandal ties.

  Adessa snarled, but did not cry out. She swung her gauntleted fist and punched Nicci in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Nicci staggered backward, struggling to suck in air, dodging the tip of the blade. Now she had only one knife.

  Pursuing her, Adessa splashed into the spilled puddle of water on the floor, somehow ignoring the pain of her broken foot. She limped only slightly. Nicci scrambled out of the pool, backing away, and just as Adessa charged, Nicci released more magic … but not against the morazeth this time.

  With her gift, she sucked heat out of the floor tiles, turned the spilled water into a sudden mirror-smooth covering of bitter-cold ice. Already running headlong, the warrior woman lost her footing and sprawled across the ice. Nicci took advantage and leaped upon the morazeth as Adessa scrambled to her feet.

  Nicci knocked her back down onto the ice, raised her dagger to deal a deathblow, but Adessa’s gauntleted hand flashed up, catching her arm. Though Nicci grunted and strained, trying to drive the dagger down, her muscles were no match for the morazeth’s.

  To concentrate on her strength, Adessa let go of her short sword, but Nicci focused only on pushing the dagger point closer and closer to the hollow of her opponent’s throat. Adessa used only one hand. Nicci didn’t see her fumble with something at her waist, pulling out a short black cylinder. She heard a faint snick, saw the glint of a silvery needle. Adessa jabbed her agile knife into Nicci’s side.

  Pain exploded like chain lightning surging through her network of nerves, making her drop her dagger. Her joints turned to jelly. Nicci writhed away, gasping. Apparently, this woman was more like the Mord-Sith than she had guessed.

  Adessa, back on her feet again, kicked Nicci in the rib cage with her inta
ct foot, then again in the kidneys. Nicci grunted and rolled, trying to recover. The crippling pain had ended the moment she broke free of the tiny needle, but Adessa kept her down with brutal blows.

  Nicci tried to get to her hands and knees, to squirm away. Jagang had beaten her far worse than this, and she had survived.

  Adessa swung a hammerblow with her gauntleted fist, striking the other side of Nicci’s head directly in the temple. Her vision filled with black spiderwebs. Each breath was like inhaling fire mixed with broken glass. She swayed, refusing to collapse. Blood poured out of her nose and mouth.

  The blows paused for a moment, and Nicci saw that Adessa had snatched up her short sword from where it lay on the patch of ice. Nicci staggered back toward the wall, trying to find a place where she could defend herself.

  With a flash of her gift, she turned one of the tiles in front of the morazeth into a red-hot square, which shimmered, turned molten, but the other woman lurched over it.

  Adessa prowled forward with only the slightest smile on her lips, a predator ready to take down its prey. She glanced back at Thora. “How many pieces would you like her in, Sovrena?”

  Thora descended the dais, swelling larger as she pulled the gift around her, building her magic to a crackling storm that cowed the other wizards in the room, even Maxim. “You’ve done enough, Adessa. I will finish this.”

  Nicci gathered her strength to fight back. Shock waves of pain sprang from numerous points throughout her body. The obedient morazeth just stood there watching, looming, threatening. Nicci raised her defiant gaze toward the sovrena. “My battle was never with Adessa.” Nicci summoned her gift, building the magic within her.

  “You dared to challenge me,” Thora said. “It is time to discard you. Dump you like a chamber pot, so that no one—”