Page 24 of Shroud of Eternity (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 2)

Bannon couldn’t stop staring at them.

From his seat at the marble table, Ivan called out, “If he is an unruly slave, why don’t we put him in the fighting pits? Get rid of him.”

“A slave that can’t be controlled is a slave that is of no use to Ildakar,” Thora agreed.

“I’m not unruly,” the defiant young man shouted. “I fight for freedom!”

Adessa looked sidelong at the chief handler, but focused her attention on the sovrena. “We caught him down by the animal cages near the arena pens. He obviously meant to release some of the beasts to create havoc among the good people of the city—as the rebels have done before.”

“The animals should be trained to taste the blood of nobles!” The slave struggled unsuccessfully to break free of the hands gripping his arms.

“Alas, the beasts will have to be satisfied with bitter-tasting slave meat,” Thora said. “Fangs and claws will set you free.”

“I am already free,” the yaxen herder insisted. “Mirrormask made me free, and he will make us all free.”

There was grumbling among the duma members. Elsa looked deeply concerned. Renn, Damon, and Quentin muttered to one another.

“Why do they call him Mirrormask?” Nathan asked. “It’s a curious name.”

“Because he wears a mask made of a mirror,” Quentin responded. “Obviously.”

“That doesn’t answer the question why,” Nicci said.

Maxim explained, “It is said his face was horribly disfigured by a fleshmancer. His visage is so appallingly hideous that people prefer to look at the reflection of their own faces, rather than his.”

“Perhaps he wishes to reflect the ugliness around him,” Nicci suggested, which earned her an annoyed glare from Thora.

Maxim chuckled. “Or maybe he just likes to have people tell stories about him. That way he will seem more mysterious and powerful than he really is.” He crossed his legs, one slick black pantaloon over the other. “Whatever the reason, I wouldn’t take his trivial movement seriously. That would give Mirrormask too much respect.”

“Have you heard his grievances?” Nathan asked. “Rebels need to rebel against something.”

“Discontent feeds itself. Better just to starve it,” Thora said.

Nicci stepped forward, focused on the captive. “I would like to speak with this boy. A mere yaxen herder? Not much of a hero or a martyr. It would be best to understand why such a person would show such defiance, knowing it would surely result in his death.”

“That’s not necessary at all, my dear sorceress,” Maxim said. He rose from his chair and spread both hands out at his sides. “We have handled such nonsense before, and I can take care of this quickly.”

Nicci looked at the defiant, but also terrified, captive slave. “And yet it happened again.”

“You will not interfere,” Thora said in a cold voice.

“Don’t you want to see what you can learn from him?” Nicci couldn’t believe they would waste such an opportunity.

“Not necessary. Not interested.” Maxim curled his fingers as he concentrated, and power circled around him, drawn out of the air like a latent thunderstorm. The wizard commander’s short hair lifted slightly, drifting about in a corona of growing energy. “Those who would disrupt the perfect order of Ildakar must be dealt with appropriately. I am not only the wizard commander; I am also the city’s master sculptor.”

Adessa and the other two morazeth stepped away from the prisoner, giving Maxim space to work. The young yaxen herder struggled with the bindings on his wrists. He straightened his knees, sneered at the duma members, then at Thora, and finally at Maxim himself. He curled his lips, preparing to spit.

Just then the wizard commander released his gift.

Shimmers curled through the air like invisible reflections. Twists of wind tightened into even more secure bindings. The slave’s filth-stained shirt turned white, as if covered with gypsum powder. His skin hardened, turned gray. His wild and unruly hair crystallized. With a crackling, breathy sound, the slave petrified in his defiant position, and a new statue stood on the floor in the chamber.

The petrification spell seemed fundamentally the same as what the insane Adjudicator had used against the people of Lockridge, against Nicci. The Adjudicator, though, had been corrupted by the magic. Maxim wielded the time-stopping magic with ease and clear intent.

Ivan stood up from his stone bench, clenching his fists at his sides. “That was a wasted effort, Maxim. We should have taken the boy to the combat pits, where he would have made fine sport. Now what are we supposed to do with him?”

Thora frowned at her husband, then nodded slowly. “Killing him in the arena would have turned the boy into a martyr and incited more foolishness from Mirrormask and his rabble. Better that we took care of it like this.”

“And I so rarely get to practice my gift,” Maxim said. He looked at Nicci, and the tone of his voice held a clear undertone of braggadocio. She assumed he was trying to impress her, maybe to get her to change her mind the next time he invited her to one of the Ildakaran pleasure parties. “I am the master of the petrification magic. I created and controlled the spell that petrified General Utros’s entire army, all those centuries ago.”

“Yes, you were the key,” Thora said. “But the rest of us helped turn the lock. You aren’t the only one who can use the magic. I myself took care of Lani, when she expressed her insufferable defiance.” She looked over at the stone sorceress standing at the side of the ruling chamber.

“Of course you did, my dear. I would never wish to belittle your abilities.” Maxim folded his arms together. He looked satisfied and content after turning the rebellious slave to stone. “I suggest we place this new statue in a prominent location … down in the slave market, perhaps, where it will serve as a fine decoration—and a clear warning.”

After workers had removed the statue of the young yaxen herder, Thora sat back, regarding the others in the ruling chamber. “Chief Handler Ivan is right. It’s been too long since we watched a spectacle in the combat arena. Let us arrange one at the earliest opportunity. Ivan, when can you be ready?”

Fleshmancer Andre entered the tower, hours late for the meeting. His loose white robe carried hints of stains from past work in his “studio.” He wiped sweat off his brow and spread his arms wide. “It appears I arrived just in time, hmmm? My experiment is finished—the fleshmancy was a complete success. Our new warrior could make his debut in the combat arena as soon as tomorrow.”

Wizard Commander Maxim looked delighted. “Tomorrow it is then! We shall schedule an exhibition.”

CHAPTER 18

Smiling magnanimously, Maxim offered Nicci a seat in the nobles’ spectator tower above the city’s grand arena. Now that Andre had tentatively suggested possibilities as to how Nathan might regain his gift, the other duma members allowed him to join them in the special seats as well, high above the unwashed and unruly crowd.

Amos and his companions had asked Bannon to join them in the secondary tier, close to the combat field, but he preferred to sit with his friends Nicci and Nathan. The wizards were somewhat displeased to have an ungifted young man with them, but they deferred, although with obvious reluctance.

When the sun stood at its zenith above Ildakar, crowds gathered in the rings of seats around the combat arena, a broad and deep crater excavated in the sandstone uplift. The fighting field of sand and gravel was surrounded by a sheer wall. The spectator seats for the lower classes ringed the rim, while the gifted nobles observed from tower perches that rose high above the sands. The raised towers gave them an unobstructed vantage as well as improved safety. Nicci guessed that some of the animals in the arena were so dangerous they might escape and rampage into the spectator stands. From visions conveyed via her spell bond, she remembered times Mrra had fought here.

From his seat close beside her, Maxim remarked on the black dress she wore, despite the variety of clothes that had been offered to her. “Are the s

tyles of Ildakar not to your liking? We have many different dresses, from long gowns to rather abbreviated silken shifts. If you chose to wear such a garment, everyone here would appreciate it, I’m sure.”

She gave him a stony glance. “I choose to wear black for personal reasons.”

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