Page 84 of Shroud of Eternity (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 2)

“Cliffwall?” asked the first farmer. “I’ve heard of it. It’s far away and hidden in the canyons.” He gestured toward the high plateau in the north.

“We know exactly where we’re going,” Peretta said.

Without tarrying, the group rode onward, anxious to cover many miles. Over the next two days they encountered several other new settlements, before the expedition turned north, heading up into the high desert. Oliver and Peretta took the lead as the rocky terrain grew more complex, but even though the scholars remembered their previous path, they had traveled on foot, and their route was not appropriate for horses or so many men. Scouts had to range farther to divert around slot canyons or steep drop-offs. The canyonlands were beautiful, but they were a maze.

They pressed forward, and Verna heard some of the soldiers grumbling that they were lost. Many of the arroyos were dry, and the horses needed more water. The two young scholars, though, were not deterred. After following gravel-bottomed washes into towering red canyons, Oliver and Peretta’s horse led them into a narrowing canyon that seemed blocked off with a dead end.

“Here we are,” Oliver said, shading his eyes. Sitting just in front of him, Peretta beamed.

“There’s nothing but rock,” said General Zimmer.

Peretta flashed a smile at him. “You see why it’s such a good hiding place?”

The scholar guides dismounted and walked their horse forward. “You might not want to ride through. It’s pretty narrow,” Oliver said.

They approached the stone wall and walked directly into a shadow, turned left, and disappeared. Two scouts followed the Cliffwall scholars, and shouted an all-clear.

Verna realized it was a fold in the rock, a narrow passageway that remained hidden until she came directly up to it. She dismounted, leading Dusty by the halter, with General Zimmer and his destrier just ahead of her. The cool rock pressed against her as the walls closed in. The shadows were thick, because no sunlight penetrated into this narrow passageway, but after no more than ten steps, she and her horse emerged into a marvelous canyon, a separate world hidden from the outside.

Streams cut fingerlike canyons in the slickrock, leaving a lush green valley. Numerous fruit trees lined the central stream, with herds of sheep grazing on the thick grass. Terraced gardens used every scrap of fertile land for vegetable plots layered up along the cliffs. The rock walls rose high on either side of the canyon, studded with natural alcoves in which adobe buildings were nestled.

Shouts rang throughout the canyon as the people noticed the stream of horses and soldiers entering through the hidden crack.

“There!” Oliver pointed to the other side of the canyon.

Verna looked up to the wall on her right, to see a large grotto overhang that held enormous buildings, stone towers, and immense façades. A narrow path zigzagged up the side of the cliff to reach the imposing structures. Verna gasped. “Cliffwall?”

Oliver and Peretta nodded. “We’re back home.”

CHAPTER 67

Water spilled across the polished blue marble tiles in the ruling chamber, pouring away from the jagged fragments of the smashed pitcher. In anger, Thora strode down the steps from the dais and bent over to peer into the spreading pool. The reflective surface showed nothing but the early-morning light that came in through the windows. “All of my scrying pools are ruined throughout the city!”

Maxim chortled, lounging back in his seat, crossing his black-clad legs. “What did you expect, my darling wife? You felt compelled to show off your secret in front of everyone. You revealed to the duma members that you’ve been spying on them, just as you spied on Nicci and the wizard Nathan.”

“He is no wizard,” she snarled. “He has no gift.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Andre reported that he’s awake and recovering, and he does indeed show some aptitude for magic.”

“Andre never likes to admit failure.” Thora stared down at the pool, which showed her nothing.

Maxim rested his head against the raised back of his ornate chair. “Once the duma members knew about your scrying pools, word was bound to get out. Slaves could have overheard, even guards and citizens, and from there the information was passed to Mirrormask.” He flicked his forefinger back and forth like an accusing metronome. “You really should have expected that.”

“I expected our duma members to be loyal.”

The wizard commander toyed with his dark goatee. “Loyalty is earned, my dear, not commanded.” Back in their own homes, the duma members had drained their pools and fountains, just to cut her off.

Thora narrowed her sea-green eyes. Her thoughts spun, and her anger grew hotter inside her mind. “And have I not earned their loyalty, after fifteen centuries of perfect rule? Have I not given them peace and protection?”

“Why, of course. If only everyone else saw it that way. Like our slaves.”

The sovrena was annoyed at her husband and annoyed at the turn of events. During the hours of darkness, Mirrormask and his rebels had spread through the streets in a coordinated effort to smash the public scrying basins, blinding her magical eyes across the city.

But she was most furious with one of the last images projected from a scrying pool the moment before it was destroyed. She had seen Nicci’s face, her full lips curved down in vengeful anger as she stared into the reflective water, mocking. Nicci took malicious delight in revealing that she had survived both the attack and the long fall from the tower.

“One does not need to blame the loose tongues of our duma members,” Maxim continued. “Since you let Nicci survive, she could have told them all.”

Thora knew he was right. “It will all be over tonight. The sacrificial slaves are rounded up in their pens. At midnight when the star threads and alignments are at their peak, we will ascend the pyramid and undertake the greatest bloodworking since we defeated General Utros. The shroud will then be permanent … and we can take our time to smother this unrest.”

Because of the important upcoming ritual, the other wizards would spend the day preparing, making sure they were ready for such an expenditure of magic. Gifted workers had gone to the top of the stepped pyramid to make certain all the parts of the apparatus were in perfect alignment for the grand sacrifice.

“I think your own decisions have trapped you,” Maxim said. “Even knowing you won’t listen, I still have to disagree. A permanent shroud will cut off all outside trade, and that won’t solve our problems, but simply create a bigger cage. You’re like one of those larks caught in a net and unable to break free.”

The comparison annoyed Thora, but her husband had annoyed her for centuries. He was good at it.

With an extravagant yawn, Maxim rose from his chair and sloshed straight through the puddle, not caring. He headed out of the ruling chamber.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I am the wizard commander. I have work to do—as do you,” he said. “With all of the imminent blood magic, maybe you should pay attention to your responsibilities, instead of brooding over a sorceress that you couldn’t defeat.”

Anger flashed in Thora’s eyes. She drew in a quick, cold breath, but her husband strolled out of the chamber, leaving wet footprints. He called over his shoulder, “Since you have nothing else to do, why don’t you call some slaves and clean up that mess?”

* * *

Nicci’s dreams were unsettled and filled with feline energy. Through the spell bond, her vision drifted through to Mrra’s predatory mind, her restless spirit. So many times Nicci had dream-hunted with her sister panther, roaming free across the plains, feeling hot adrenaline as she ran a bleating antelope to ground and tore out its throat.

Now Mrra could only pace inside a confined lair, caged and tormented as her troka had been for so many years. Sullen, she was forced to eat food she had not killed, offal from the yaxen slaughterhouse or hunks of human flesh fed to her by the new handlers. Mrra had tasted human meat before, and in her memory, dreaming, Nicci tasted it as well.

Chief Handler Ivan had used chopped-up victims to whet the appetites of his animals, making sure they would kill their opponents in the arena. For Mrra, any dead meat was just a victim; it was nourishment. Mrra remembered the pain the burly chief handler had inflicted on her, how these new apprentice handlers attempted to do the same, but they were weaker than Ivan. Nicci could detect scorn in her feline thoughts. When the big cat defied them, the handlers were incensed, and worried.

Nicci drifted in sleep on her pallet in the aqueduct tunnels, looking through her cat’s eyes. The slatted bars in her lair formed shadows, and she delved deeper, remembering the panther’s recent experiences. She was shocked by a surge of recognition, another familiar human! The young man with long ginger hair and a sword. Mrra knew his smell, his demeanor, his voice—and Nicci knew it, too. Bannon!

The young man had disappeared days ago, and now she saw that Bannon had been captured and held in the fighter training pits. No wonder Nicci hadn’t been able to find him.

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