Faith of the Fallen

One of the slaves, a nearly naked boy looking to be in his late teens, was down on his hands and knees with a small whiskbroom sweeping the carpet set before the entrance to the bedroom. Without meeting Nicci's gaze, he informed her that His Excellency was not occupying his tents. The young man, Irwin, was gifted. He had lived at the Palace of the Prophets, training to be a wizard. Now Irwin tended the fringe of carpets and emptied the chamber pots. Nicci's mother would have approved.

Jagang could be any number of places. He might be off gambling or drinking with his men. He could be inspecting his troops or the craftsmen who attended them. He might be looking over the new captives, selecting those he wanted for himself. He might be talking with Kadar Kardeef's second.

Nicci saw several Sisters cowering in a corner. Like her, they, too, were Jagang's slaves. As she strode up to the three women, she saw that they were busy sewing, mending some of the tent's gear.

"Sister Nicci!" Sister Georgia rushed to her feet as a look of relief washed across her face. "We didn't know if you were alive or dead. We haven't seen you for so long. We thought maybe you had vanished."

Being that Nicci was a Sister of the Dark, sworn to the Keeper of the underworld, she found the concern from three Sisters of the Light to be somewhat insincere. Nicci supposed that they considered their captivity a common bond, and their feelings about it paramount, overcoming their more basic rifts. Too, they knew Jagang treated her differently; they were probably eager to be seen as friendly.

"I've been away on business for His Excellency."

"Of course," Sister Georgia said, dry-washing her hands as she dipped her head.

The other two, Sisters Rochelle and Aubrey, set aside the bag of bone buttons and tent thread, untangled themselves from yards of canvas, and then stood beside Sister Georgia. They both bowed their heads slightly to Nicci.

The three of them feared her inscrutable standing with Jagang.

"Sister Nicci. . His Excellency is very angry," Sister Rochelle said.

"Furious," Sister Aubrey confirmed. "He. . he railed at the walls, saying that you had gone too far this time."

Nicci only stared.

Sister Aubrey licked her lips. "We just thought you should know. So you can be careful."

Nicci thought this would be a poor time to suddenly begin being careful. She found the groveling of women hundreds of years her senior annoying. "Where's Jagang?"

"He has taken a grand building, not far outside the city, as his quarters," Sister Aubrey said.

"It used to be the Minister of Culture's estate," Sister Rochelle added.

Nicci frowned. "Why? He has his tents."

"Since you've been gone, he's decided that an emperor needs proper quarters," Sister Rochelle said.

"Proper? Proper for what?"

"To show the world his importance, I suppose."

Sister Aubrey nodded. "He's having a palace built. In Altur'Rang. It's his new vision." She arced an arm through the air, apparently indicating, with the slice of her hand, the grand scale of the place. "He's ordered a magnificent palace built."

"He was planning on using the Palace of the Prophets," Sister Rochelle said, "but since it was destroyed he's decided to build another, only better-the most opulent palace ever conceived."

Nicci frowned at the three women. "He wanted the Palace of the Prophets because it had a spell to slow aging. That was what interested him."

All three women shrugged.

Nicci began to get an inkling of what Jagang might have in mind. "So, this place he's at now? What is he doing? Learning to eat with something other than his fingers? Seeing how he likes living the fancy life under a roof?"

"He only told us he was staying there for now," Sister Georgia said.

"He took most of the. . younger women with him. He told us to stay here and see to things in case he wished to return to his tent."

It didn't sound like much had changed, except the setting.

Nicci sighed. Her carriage was gone. She would have to walk.

"All right. How do I find the place?"

After Sister Aubrey gave her detailed directions, Nicci thanked them and turned to go.

"Sister Alessandra has vanished," Sister Georgia said in a voice straining mightily to sound nonchalant.

Nicci stopped in her tracks.

She rounded on Sister Georgia. The woman was middle aged, and seemed to look worse every time Nicci saw her. Her clothes were little more than tattered rags she wore with the pride of a fine uniform. Her thin hair was more white than brown. It might once have looked distinguished, but it didn't appear to have seen a brush, much less soap, for weeks. She was probably infested with lice, too.

Some people looked forward to age as an excuse to become a frump, as if all along their greatest ambition in life had been to be drab and unattractive. Sister Georgia seemed to delight in dowdiness.

"What do you mean, Sister Alessandra has vanished?"

Nicci caught the slight twitch of satisfaction. Georgia spread her hands innocently. "We don't know what happened. She's just turned up missing."