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Thora’s expression darkened. “The shroud was not just to protect the city from Emperor Kurgan’s bloodthirsty armies. It was to preserve our society, to prevent contamination fro
m the outside. But now it is fading, and I feel great fear for our continued existence.” Her face looked pinched. “Each exposure erodes what we have created.”
The wizard commander was not so convinced. “On the other hand, my dear, opening Ildakar to the outside has allowed an infusion of resources and added new life to our society. Think of all the fresh blood the slavers have brought for us.”
“And how many slaves have escaped out into the wild?” she asked.
Chuckling at his wife’s pained expression, Maxim turned to Nicci and Nathan. “As you can see, we’ve had this argument many times.”
“The outside world has changed greatly in fifteen hundred years,” Nicci said, thinking of Richard and D’Hara. “Lord Rahl put an end to oppression, brought down tyrants, defeated the Imperial Order. Slavery should be a thing of the past.”
Thora looked annoyed. “And he has decreed this from a throne so far away that no one has ever heard of it. You’re being naive.”
“I am following my beliefs,” Nicci said. “And my beliefs are correct. I have seen the poison of tyranny, and I will have none of it. Even Ildakar can change for the better. We will help.”
Nathan looked nervous at the tension in her discussion, but Nicci did not back down.
Thora narrowed her sea-green eyes. “You would come here and change the underpinnings of a society? All by yourself? Ildakar has functioned perfectly well for thousands of years without your help … and without your interference.”
“Perfectly well? That is a matter of some debate,” Maxim said. “Just as you’ve lost your deep-seated love for me after all this time, my dear, you’ve also lost your objectivity. Ildakar has changed. The people are beginning to grow restless, and Mirrormask is taking advantage of that. Perhaps a small shift in the way we do things would reestablish contentment. Is that not better than waiting for something to explode?”
“I’m not waiting,” Thora said, with a stony sneer. “We will have nothing to worry about once we exterminate Mirrormask and put an end to the trouble he’s caused.”
CHAPTER 15
As thin clouds scudded across the early-afternoon sky, Nathan walked up to the fleshmancer’s dwelling, curious, eager, and a little nervous. He counted on this gifted man’s abilities, hoping to find a simple and straightforward solution to his lack of magic. Red’s commands had led him here.
Andre’s mansion was easy enough to find, not at the top of the plateau where some of the other duma members lived, but partway down the layers of the uplifted city, not far from a spectacular outdoor arena and sandstone outcroppings. The fleshmancer’s home was a large and impressive structure, three stories high with several connected wings on spacious grounds. The walls were built from quarried white stone. Tall fluted pillars held up the portico and arched walls in an open-air courtyard.
As Nathan walked up the pathway, his boots crunched on the crushed stone that glittered with veins of crystal. The exotic gardens captured his attention like a hunter seizing a bird and refusing to let go. The lush hedges had an eerie undertone of unreality, the interlaced branches folded, then folded back on themselves as if they had been slowly tortured, broken, then improperly healed. Bright orange flowers looked like hibiscus, though their perfume smelled oddly bitter. The trees in the garden were stunted and malformed, their trunks bent over at improbable angles, then twisted back up, like a goose whose neck had been broken in two places. Even the repressed fruit trees spilled forth a blizzard of pink blossoms.
In a special section of the garden, Nathan paused before shoulder-high flowers with thick stalks and heads as large as his own, like sunflowers with scarlet petals. As he leaned forward for a closer look, Nathan saw that all the seeds in the center glittered and moved, like insect eyes.
Nathan felt a chill, but also a fascination. True, these plants seemed different, but he couldn’t see anything threatening about them, if one didn’t insist on the original patterns the Creator had used. In a way, he gave Andre credit for his imagination and originality.
Nathan had studied many obscure magical tomes in Cliffwall, searching how he might recover his gift, but he had found no clues there. As each day went by without him being able to do simple things such as lighting a fire or shining a light, Nathan longed to have his gift back. He tried to hide how much he depended on magic, because he was competent enough without the powers of a wizard. By necessity, he had become a much better swordsman, for example.
But he felt hollow. Something was missing inside him, and it didn’t reflect who he was. After the star shift unraveled his gift of prophecy, he had lost so much more. And whenever he felt a tiny flicker of his magic coming back, the results were grossly distorted amplifications or ricochets of his intent. He didn’t dare attempt to use his magic, nor did he dare to remain helpless. He needed his gift back, badly, and he was betting that someone in Ildakar—Andre, he hoped—would help him. He was willing to do whatever might be necessary to accomplish that.
“I see you admiring my garden, hmmm?” Andre emerged from his villa and stood under an entry arch draped with snakelike vines. He casually leaned against one of the fluted columns.
Though startled by his sudden appearance, Nathan showed no reaction other than to give a grateful smile to the man. “The plants are most unusual. Where did you find such strange specimens?”
“Find them?” Andre laughed. “Why, I created them. Most were just flights of fancy, but a few served as practice for other experiments I had in mind.” The fleshmancer drew down his lips. “I learn a great deal of unique knowledge by tearing living things apart, studying how they work, then reassembling them.”
Nathan stepped past the looming red eyeflowers. “I hope you can use some of that special knowledge to help me.”
The other man tugged on the knot of his braided beard. “Indeed, former wizard, you pose an interesting challenge. I promise I will study your condition in great detail and perform any necessary experiments to discover an answer. Shall we begin, hmmm?”
Nathan followed the man inside a cavernous foyer supported by tall pillars. He was glad for the fleshmancer’s assistance, even if Andre seemed to be doing it more to satisfy his own curiosity than to assist a fellow wizard. Andre led him into the first wing, which seemed oddly dark even in the bright afternoon. Although the ceilings were mostly open, they had been draped with indigo-dyed cloth, which gave the interior a nighttime feel. Simmering magical pots of light shone in alcoves and corners.
In the large yet somehow claustrophobic room, Nathan saw three long clean tables, each large enough to hold an outstretched man. He heard the sounds of bubbling fluid and the faint hiss of mist escaping from partially closed containers. The air was thick and moist, laced with an undertone of spoiled food and caustic powders.
Shelves along the walls held small colored glass bottles or opaque jars full of powders. Aquariums filled with murky liquids held strange shapeless objects. Nearby, he saw a tank with clearer water and a fishlike thing swimming in it, its jagged fins so long they reminded him of the feathers of a tropical bird. Cautious, yet curious, Nathan walked toward a tank that held clotted swirls of liquid and a shadowy shape that looked something like a severed hand.
Standing proudly, Fleshmancer Andre said, “Living forms are like clay. Bone, muscle, flesh, even hair is mutable in a skilled fleshmancer’s hand. I am the sculptor. I am the potter. I look at living creatures as raw material from which I can make whatever is necessary … or whatever I wish.”
Nathan looked around at the three empty tables, the numerous unlabeled bottles on the shelves, the oddly shaped but sharp tools in basins or on platters, and his imagination filled in details of what Andre actually did here. “This is where you conduct your experiments?”
“This is where I do my work.” The fleshmancer patted Nathan on the shoulder, let his fingers linger on the tall wizard’s arm, tracing down the sleeve of the green silk robe. “And this is where I will study you. My main living quarters are in the back, but I s
pend the bulk of my time here in this wing, with my various dissection and reassembly chambers, my performance tables, and of course the recovery gallery.”
With the three tables lined up and waiting for patients, or specimens, this place reminded Nathan of an empty battlefield hospital, joined with an abattoir. He pushed back his anxiety, focusing on the goal. “Let’s get on with it—I need to find answers. Thank you for welcoming me into your laboratory.”
Andre chuckled. “My laboratory, hmmm? I prefer to think of it as my studio. Fleshmancy is an art, and I have created many masterpieces. I scrutinize my subjects, my specimens. I treat them as raw material, blank canvases, and I imagine how they can be improved.”
Nathan flinched as the strange fish splashed in the nearby tank, and he cleared his throat. He wanted this too badly. “I could be greatly improved, if we restore my gift. Then I’d show I am a wizard as powerful as any here in Ildakar.”
“Oh, that would be a thing to see. I’d better inspect you thoroughly first, hmmm?” Andre faced him. As he absently stroked the braided beard on the point of his chin, the expression went out of his gray eyes, as if the fleshmancer had stopped seeing the wizard in front of him, but instead saw something else. He tugged on the silken folds of Nathan’s robe. “Disrobe, so I can have a look at you.”
Nathan felt awkward. “You wish me to stand here naked so you can poke and prod?”
“Yes. I do.” Just the night before, the nobles of Ildakar had talked about wild, crowded pleasure parties, where no doubt there would have been enough naked forms on display to last a lifetime. Andre raised his eyebrows. “You said you wanted my help?”
Surprised at his own reticence, Nathan drove back his embarrassment. He was tall, handsome, and well built, with nothing to be ashamed of. Andre tugged at the sash that held the borrowed wizard’s robe closed, and Nathan shrugged out of it, letting the green garment ripple off his shoulders and slither down to the floor. He stepped out of the pool of fabric. Though the chamber was hot and stuffy, Nathan felt a tickle of gooseflesh up and down his sides.
