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If Nicci played her hand right, and if Mirrormask was the positive leader she hoped, Ildakar would see the error of its ways.
Jostling one another, paying no attention to the guards in the tower, Captain Kor and his two Norukai companions pushed their way forward into the ruling chamber. Kor made no bow of respect or other recognition of Ildakaran authority. “We intend to depart. The cargo we purchased has been delivered by platform down the bluff face and stowed aboard our serpent ships. Our crew is restless and ready to go downriver to the estuary and back to the open sea. Your city is too fine and decadent. We can feel ourselves growing softer each day.”
“We thank you for your business,” Maxim said, “and we welcome open trade, should you return.…”
Thora cut him off. “Ildakar may not be here. Once we raise the shroud, we will search for ways to make it permanent, in order to be at peace again. Corruption from the outside has caused much damage to our pristine society. With the shroud in place and everyone where they can be accountable, we’ll have centuries to hunt down Mirrormask and exterminate every one of his followers, like beetles under an overturned rock.”
Kor, Lars, and Yorik chuckled gruffly. “We wouldn’t miss you either, if you were to vanish forever. Though we have told King Grieve about this city and he wishes to see it.”
“Then he’d best live long,” Thora said.
Kor stepped forward, the shark’s tooth sticking out on his shaven scalp. “Before our ships depart, one of our men is missing. Dar disappeared two days ago. Where is he?”
“Keeper’s beard,” Maxim said in disgust, “why should we keep account of your men? We hear he frequented the silk yaxen. Have you searched the dachas? Maybe you’ll find him drunk in an alley. He certainly had a fondness for bloodwine at our banquets.”
“Or maybe he had his throat slit, accosted by robbers in the darkness,” Kor accused.
Thora’s porcelain face flushed with pinpricks of red. “I am offended by your suggestion. Such a thing could never happen in our fine city. We have no crime here, no robbery. Everyone is happy here and content.”
Despite the seriousness of the charge, the three Norukai chuckled with sarcastic laughter. “Perhaps you’ve never set foot in your own city, Sovrena. Every place has its element of malcontents who must be put in their places.”
“Not Ildakar.” Thora bit off her words as viciously as if she were tearing roasted flesh from a bone.
“I’m sure dear Captain Avery might disagree,” Maxim said.
Nicci spoke up in a chill voice, “If your man Dar was so weak he could be accosted by street rabble, then perhaps he was no Norukai after all.”
Captain Kor spun to look at her with a dead black gaze and then pounded the center of his chest as if to cough loose a trapped morsel of food. He laughed. The other two Norukai laughed with him, their loose jaws clacking together.
“The pretty sorceress has a point.” Kor snorted. “Very well, enough about the man. He can be replaced.” The Norukai turned, adjusting their weapons at their waists. “Our boats are loaded, and it’s time to go downriver. Maybe we’ll see Ildakar again.” He glanced at the wizard commander and the sovrena, then passed his gaze over the duma members. “Or maybe we will not. I won’t mourn either way.”
* * *
At the end of the day, Nicci and Nathan went to the edge of the steep bluffs high above the Killraven River. She had not seen Bannon since the previous day and assumed he was with his friends.
They watched the setting sun spill a crimson afterglow on the wide river as the Norukai serpent ships raised their midnight-blue sails and moved downriver, leaving Ildakar alone but not at peace.
CHAPTER 41
Across the trackless wilderness, far from Ildakar, the wizard Renn felt lost and impatient. As day after hopeless day went by, he began to falter in his confidence. He used the focus of his gift to calm himself and fight back his despair. Captain Trevor led the way with his contingent of twelve city guards, but Renn was not convinced they knew where they were going either.
They had set off from the city with great fanfare, bearing purple banners that displayed the sun-and-lightning-bolt symbol. Ever since the shroud had first dissipated nearly two decades ago, opening the ancient city to the outside for the first time in fifteen hundred years, Ildakarans had encountered occasional travelers and curiosity seekers. The infrequent visitors came from the towns in the hills and down the river, and the city even engaged in trade with the Norukai in their serpent ships.
But few from Ildakar had ventured far from the city. They lived in their utopia, convinced of their sheltered perfection. Dozens of slaves had run away when the shroud first went down, but few of them knew how to live in the wild. Some of their bodies had been found out on the plains, gaunt and starving, dead from snake bites or exposure. Others made it away, no doubt thanks to the meddling of Mirrormask, but the official story in the city was that no escaped slave had survived. No one bothered to go look for them.
The wizards’ duma simply had no curiosity about the outside. Ildakar had been bottled up for fifteen centuries, and it was self-sufficient. The people had no need for the outside world. In fact, most of them—Renn included—had no interest in what lay out there. They wouldn’t admit it, but even the greatest wizards feared what the world might have to offer. Hundreds of thousands of Emperor Kurgan’s petrified soldiers were a testament to that.
But now, Renn had been sent out into the grim wilderness with Captain Trevor and his escort to find a lost and possibly fictitious archive of precious lore. Cliffwall.
“A fool’s errand,” the portly wizard muttered to himself. Renn had his own disagreements with the council members, though not to the extent of Lani’s bitter feud, centuries ago. He had seen the punishment imposed upon that rebellious sorceress, whose statue stood as a grim reminder in the ruling chamber. No, that would not happen to him.
Renn had never really wanted to be a member of the duma. He did not covet power, although he did enjoy finer things: the best furniture, the greatest carvings, the most elaborate villa, the largest gardens, the most docile and efficient slaves, the best chefs, the most stylish clothes.
Now he swatted at a biting fly attracted to his glistening sweat. How he missed his home.
Glancing over his shoulder, he looked longingly at the ridgeline behind him. He could no longer even see the city of Ildakar. Too far away … infinitely far away. He wasn’t sure he would ever get back there. This entire quest might just be an excuse for the wizard commander and the sovrena to rid themselves of Renn before they raised the shroud again. If so, he would never be able to get back inside.
Was that what they really wanted to do?
He trudged forward, thrashing grasses out of his way. One of the guards used a short sword to hack at the spiny thistles that grew on the hillsides.
“Cliffwall must be just beyond that rise,” said Trevor. His voice was rough and ragged, but he put energy in it as if to convince himself. Trevor longed to be back in Ildakar as much as Renn did, but they had their orders. “They said Kol Adair was over a few ridges, and we have been traveling for a long time.”
“It has been five days,” Renn said as he swatted at another biting fly. “I’ve kept track.”
Crossing the plain, they had walked through line after line of the macabre statue soldiers turned to stone by Maxim’s grand spell. Renn remembered that day, fifteen centuries ago. He had been a young man when it happened … and, oh, the blood that had been spilled to work the magic. Thousands executed to pull together a tapestry of magic powerful enough to freeze those enemies in time. He remembered the wizards building the original shroud, a bubble that sealed Ildakar away from time and from history. Costing almost as much blood, that great spell had twisted reality so that the passage of days and weeks in the vicinity might be entirely different from how time was perceived far away, or within the city itself.
Renn shuddered. Such questions made him feel lost, and he just wante
d to go home. The mountains around him were rugged and fearsome, and his courage quailed. He knew in his heart that they still had a long, long way to go.
The expedition toiled over the ridge and down into an intervening valley. On the sixth day, they found a crumbling old road that had dwindled to a weed-strewn path. They followed it, winding up to an even more imposing mountain range, and as they came around an outcropping, they stopped to stare at three heads impaled on tall poles. Norukai heads, with a placard below and a warning written in Ildakaran script: Free the slaves of Ildakar. This is the fate of those who sell human flesh.
Renn’s heart fluttered. Trevor and his guards muttered to one another. “Mirrormask and his rebels have come even this far.” The guard captain turned gray, and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as if he had just swallowed bile. “They slaughtered my friend Kerry, mutilated him, cut out his eyes. But this…” Trevor shook his head. “I can’t believe they placed a warning so far away.”
“The Norukai are ambitious,” said Renn, trying to come up with an explanation. “Perhaps there is a threat from this direction. The slavers intend to come overland as well as up the river.”
“The Norukai aren’t that dangerous,” Trevor said, then added in a quieter voice, “Are they? Is their empire so large?”
