Page 20 of Shroud of Eternity (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 2)

“My smallclothes as well?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Andre sniffed. “You wanted your magic restored everywhere, didn’t you?”

With a sigh, Nathan submitted and stood completely unclothed before the alarmingly eager fleshmancer.

Andre walked around him, studying the old wizard’s well-toned form. He made nonverbal noises, some questioning, some approving. Nathan had been preserved for a thousand years in the Palace of the Prophets, and since leaving there, he had exercised and maintained his physical appearance. Women had never been disappointed in him.

But Andre showed an unhealthy analytical fascination for his body. Standing behind Nathan, Andre ran his flat palm across the other man’s back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, then down the bumps of his vertebrae. Nathan felt the lingering touch, and a heated flush came to his cheeks. He forced himself to remain motionless for the inspection.

Andre came around to the front, humming to himself. He reached out with a finger to touch Nathan’s forehead, then traced the side of his face, running the fingertip up to the top again, forming an oval. “I sense the lines of Han in you, like scars, but I also see how the tracks have faded … as a scar fades.”

“I don’t want my gift to fade,” Nathan said.

“That is what we’re trying to fix, hmmm? We may have to find your gift elsewhere and re-graft it onto you, assemble you again from your very core … the way I have so successfully put together other specimens for the combat arena.” He grinned so widely that Nathan could see all his slightly uneven teeth. “Chief Handler Ivan says that my creations have made our arena exhibitions more spectacular than any previously seen in Ildakar’s history. I help develop new fighting beasts for precisely that purpose.”

“Fighting beasts?” Nathan thought of the horrific monster they had encountered in the scrub oak grove. “I think we encountered one of them, a creature that looked like a bear.”

Andre nodded. “Hmmm, several of our combat bears got loose. They are very difficult to kill, much more terrible than a normal bear.”

“We killed it,” Nathan said, “but the task was not easy.”

“Ahh, that is sad. I worked hard to create such a thing.” When the fleshmancer shrugged, his bony shoulders popped up and down. He bent lower to touch Nathan’s chest, then followed some sort of invisible line down his abdomen. “But my creatures are designed to fight and kill … and die. I suppose that one served its purpose.”

He pressed down on Nathan’s stomach and traced his left hip. Nathan shivered and grew more tense.

Suddenly, shouts echoed from the courtyard beyond the large arched foyer. Gruff male voices called out, “Fleshmancer! We have materials for you. A practice fight between two of Adessa’s warriors left them both nearly dead. We thought you could save them … or use them.”

Distracted, Andre snapped his attention away from Nathan’s naked form. “Dress yourself—I’ve seen all I need. Let us go see what wondrous things have come to us.”

The fleshmancer bustled out as Nathan hurriedly donned his green robe and gathered his dignity. Leaving the laboratory room under the dark blue fabrics, they rushed out into the bright sunlight.

Waiting at the end of the crushed-stone path stood a wooden cart drawn by a single glum-looking yaxen. One outflung, bloody human arm flopped over the side of the cart. Andre peered eagerly down into the bed. Nathan joined him and looked at the bodies of two well-muscled men wearing only loincloths, their skin laced with a webwork of old scars as well as fresh, open wounds that oozed blood. Both were mortally injured, barely clinging to life. One of the two men was shaved bald, but with a round swatch of his skull waxy and pale from a long-healed head wound. Blood bubbled up from his neck, where a blade had cut deep, nearly to the spine.

“The sword practically lopped off his head,” said one of the men at the cart. “A blunted sword! It was supposed to be a practice fight.”

The second worker had blue-black whiskers that stuck out from his chin like wires. He flashed a strangely excited grin. “Adessa commands them to fight as if their lives depend on it … and sometimes I think the warriors want to die.”

“They live only to fight and die,” Andre said dismissively. “Now let’s see what we can make of these two.”

Nathan stood there, feeling flustered and out of place as he heard the dying men groan and gurgle. They both bled from chest wounds, deep sword thrusts to their sides; they had nearly hacked each other to pieces. The bald warrior’s foot had been mangled and his right arm had been lopped off at the elbow.

“Carry them inside to the studio. Better hurry.” Andre’s voice was vibrant and animated now. He smiled at Nathan. “I apologize for the distraction, but this will occupy my attention today.” He bustled behind the two cart workers as they manhandled the dying warriors, lifting the hacked bodies out of the cart and dragging them through Andre’s well-manicured garden into the mansion. He led them into the main room under the dark blue fabrics. “Use two of the clean tables, hmmm? Adjacent ones. I want the specimens next to each other.”

The men did as they were told, showing no hesitation, no queasiness. After they had hauled the victims onto the tables, Andre chased them away. “Thank Adessa for me, and let Chief Handler Ivan know I may have something interesting to turn loose for an upcoming exhibition.”

The two blood-spattered workers were all too happy to depart, without waiting to be paid.

Nathan wanted to leave as well, but he felt obligated to remain, though not sure how he could help. He remained in the background, trying not to get in the way, and also reluctant to be splashed with the warriors’ blood. He was close enough to hear their sickening groans.

Andre circled the tables as he gathered tools, decanters, and powders, flasks filled with bright liquids, packets of dried herbs. Nathan noticed that the perimeter of each table was etched with faint and obscure spell-forms, binding labyrinths designed to keep a patient’s lifeblood confined while the fleshmancer did his work.

He looked up at Nathan as if he were a colleague. “These were two well-recognized fighters from the combat pits, trained for years. Very strong. Good specimens.”

“They appear to be dying,” Nathan said. “And I’ve seen more dying men than I care to remember.”

“Yes, they may be dying, but we can still use them.” Andre moved about frenetically. “There’s not much time. This one here is nearly dead.” He indicated the deep neck wound, the burbling blood. “With the loss of the arm and the damaged leg, the rest of his body is useless. But his head appears mostly intact. The other one will heal … but perhaps he could benefit from the Han of the first. Two together. They will live to be more than the sum of their parts.” He seemed to be dancing with glee. “I have never done this before. Grafting one man’s head onto the shoulders of another. Which brain will be dominant, I wonder? Hmmm?”

Nathan was horrified. “Do you really mean to put a second head on the first man’s shoulders?”

“Why not? It’s perfectly possible with fleshmancy. I will have to split and move the vertebrae in order to create a proper anchor point for the necks.” He spoke faster, like a chef making plans for a large banquet. “I will extrude the nerves and connect them to the brain of the second head. From there, fusing blood vessels and connecting flesh is a simple matter, like a sculptor manipulating clay.”

“Dear spirits,” Nathan muttered, “I don’t know what to say. Why would you do such a thing?”

Andre blinked at the seemingly absurd question. “Because I can. Because it would be interesting.”

Nathan felt deep doubts as to whether this man could help him with his own problem. He wasn’t sure he wanted the fleshmancer to reshape his flesh and his mind, and his own Han.

Andre seemed impatient. “Without your gift, you cannot assist me in the operation, Nathan. In fact, your lack of magic may dampen my own abilities. I’d rather you left the studio now. Let me mull over how to restore your gift, but I

’ve seen enough to determine a solution. It is obvious what’s wrong with you.”

Nathan had begun to retreat, but those words brought him to a stop. “You know what made me lose my magic?”

“The gift is intrinsic to you, but you have lost the heart of a wizard. You need to gain it back. Some spark within you changed with the star shift, but it can be fixed.”

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