The wizard wore a bittersweet expression, but forced a smile. “I spent a thousand years there. What could be a better start to a new life than to erase all signs of the past?” He pushed aside his dark blue cape and patted the leather pouch at his side that held the new life book and its ominous pronouncement. “It’s time for a new adventure, before we get too old. You and I are not used to aging at the same rate as everyone else. Tanimura awaits.”
Nicci set off down the road to the city. As they walked down the hill, an oxcart rolled past, driven by an old farmer wearing a straw hat. The man stared at the road ahead as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. His cart was loaded with round green melons.
When Nathan asked for a ride, the old farmer gave them a casual gesture. The two sat in the back of the wagon among the piled round melons. Nicci picked up one. “It looks like a severed head.” The ox plodded along, not caring whether the road went uphill or downhill.
Jostled by the slow, uneven cart, Nicci watched the approaching city. She remembered the tree-lined boulevards, the tall whitewashed buildings, the tile roofs. Banners flew from high poles, scarlet pennants of the city of Tanimura and larger flags of the D’Haran Empire.
She and Richard had stopped here for a time on their way to Altur’Rang, when she had forced him to play the role of her husband, hoping to convince him to believe in the Order. She had been so passionate, determined, ruthless, and so naive. He had learned how to cut stone here in Tanimura.…
Nicci’s brow furrowed at the troubling memory. “We will not stay long, Wizard. We’ll get supplies for a long journey and find a ship sailing south to the Old World. I’m sure you’re anxious to find your Kol Adair.”
“And you must save the world, of course.” Nathan winced as the oxcart rolled over a large rock in the road, and one large melon rolled over the edge, but he deftly caught it and set it back on the precarious pile. “But why in such a hurry? Dear spirits, we traveled weeks to get to Tanimura. If that prophecy was written down a hundred years ago, there can’t possibly be any rush.”
“Whether or not the witch woman is correct, Lord Rahl asked us to explore the fringes of his empire and to spread the terms of his rule. Everyone here already knows who he is. Our real work lies elsewhere.”
“Indeed it does,” Nathan admitted with a sigh. “And I’m curious to find this place called Kol Adair that Red thinks I need to see.”
He looked at his shirt, then tried to brush away a grease stain from a rabbit they’d eaten in camp, and a spot of gravy that signified the much better food that an innkeeper had prepared for them the following night. “Before we can go on, though, my first order of business will be to acquire a new traveling wardrobe. Without a doubt, Tanimura has many tailors and garment shops to choose from. I believe I can find what I need.”
Nicci’s black traveling dress was still in good shape, and she had a spare in her pack. “You worry about clothes altogether too much.”
He looked down his nose at her. “I spent a thousand years wearing frumpy robes in the Palace of the Prophets. Now that I am out in the world at last, I am entitled to indulge myself.”
Nicci knew she wouldn’t change his mind. “I’ll make my way down to the harbor and make inquiries with the dockmaster. I can learn which ships are ready to depart and where they are bound.”
More carts joined them on the road, and they passed stables on the outskirts of the city, livestock yards where pigs and cattle wandered about, unconcerned with their fates. Charcoal kilns stood like tall beehives, letting a whisper of sweet smoke into the air. Across a meeting square, shirtless carpenters were building a tall tower that so far consisted only of support beams.
The listless cart driver did not speak a word to them, merely drove his ox along. As the city buildings clustered together, the crowds increased, as did the noise. People shouted to one another, merchants hawked their wares, washerwomen hung dripping clothes from lines strung between buildings.
Not far away they saw a large market crowded with rickety wooden stalls featuring good-luck trinkets, bolts of patterned fabric, wooden carvings, fire-glazed clay pots, and bunches of red and orange flowers. The old farmer flicked the ox with a switch to turn the animal toward the market, and Nicci and Nathan slid off the cart, ready to venture into the heart of the city. The wizard called out his thanks, but the old farmer didn’t respond.
As he stood to get his bearings, Nathan adjusted the ornate sword in its scabbard, checked the life book, straightened his pack, and self-consciously brushed down the front of his shirt. “I may be a while. Once I secure the services of an adequate tailor, I’ll have him make more appropriate attire for me. Capes, shirts, vests, new boots. Yes, yes, if I am to be Lord Rahl’s ambassador, I must look the part.”
CHAPTER 5
The ancient city of Tanimura was full of wonders, distractions, and dangers for the unwary. Nicci felt right at home.
She was all business as she made her way into the thick of the city, her mind set on finding a southbound ship and a captain familiar with the port cities in the Old World. From what the witch woman had described, Kol Adair might be far out in the sparsely populated fringe lands, not marked on common maps. But they would find it.
During her years serving Emperor Jagang, when she had been called Death’s Mistress, Nicci had brought many outlying towns under the rule of the Imperial Order. Although Jagang had been intent on conquering the New World, he had little interest in the less populated areas far to the south of his own empire. He had once told her the land did not hold enough subjects or enough wealth to be worth his time.
Despite the distance, Nicci was convinced that those far-flung people also needed to know about Lord Rahl. She would be proud to tell them of their new life without tyrants and oppression, and she relished the challenge. She would do it for Richard.
Future and Fate depend on both the journey and the destination.
As she headed down toward the harbor, the streets were steep and winding. The crowded buildings were stacked haphazardly, two- and three-story structures that filled any spare patch of ground, buildings erected on top of buildings. Some homes and shops were tilted as if trying to keep their balance on the hillsides. Gutters lined the streets, filled with a brownish slurry of rainwater mixed with emptied chamber pots.
Broad-hipped women gathered and gossiped around a well, pulling up buckets of fresh water, which they handed to glum-looking teenagers to carry away. Scruffy barking dogs ran down the streets in pursuit of loose chickens.
Nicci passed through a fabric dyers’ district, where the air was filled with a rich and complicated tapestry of sharp, sour odors. Cloth merchants hung bolts of dripping fabric—indigo, saffron yellow, or stark black—which flapped in the sea breezes as they dried. In the thread makers’ district, boys ran down the street pulling long colorful strands, twisting bobbins to tighten the threads.
The tanning district reeked as leather workers cured and processed hides. Taking advantage of the foul smells, enterprising children ran about offering to sell passersby fistfuls of mint leaves as nosegays. A little girl with black hair in pigtails ran up to Nicci, waving the mint leaves. “Only a copper. It’ll make every breath smell fresh.”
Nicci shook her head. “The smell of death doesn’t bother me.”
The skinny girl could not hide her disappointment. She was dressed in rags, and her face was covered with dust and grime. She looked as if she hadn’t had a good bath, or a good meal, in some time. Noting her industriousness, Nicci gave her the copper anyway, and the girl ran off laughing.
The markets were loud, colorful storms of people, vendors hawking shellfish or live octopus from buckets of murky salt water. Butchers sold slabs of exotic imported meats—ostrich, musk ox, zebra, even a greasy gray steak supposedly from a long-tailed gar—spread out on planks for display, although many of the meats drew more flies than customers. Smoked fish dangled by their tails across wooden racks like succulent battle trophies.