Nicci didn’t interfere as the wizard put a comforting hand on Bannon’s shoulder. “Best you understand the way of things, my boy. Remember, she was called Death’s Mistress.”
Bannon walked away, his expression downcast. Heading off into the thickening mist, he said, “No. I will never forget that.”
The fog melted around him.
CHAPTER 22
After they traveled for three more days, the headlands shifted to forested hills and fertile grasslands. Bannon nervously kept his distance from Nicci and spent even more time with the wizard. Though she spoke no more of the incident, Nicci was inwardly relieved that he had learned his lesson.
She heard Nathan telling the young man tidbits of history or ruminating about his time locked in the Palace of the Prophets. Some of the legends sounded absurd to Nicci, as did events in the wizard’s own life, but Bannon had no filter to determine what might or might not be true. He lapped up each of Nathan’s tales like a cat facing a bowl of cream. At least it kept the two occupied as they trudged along, which Nathan did his best to document on the rudimentary map in his life book.
On the fifth day, they came upon a path that was too wide and well traveled to be a game trail. Ahead, they saw stumps where trees had been cut down.
Bannon cried out, “That means people have been here!”
The trail soon widened into a footpath, then an actual road. Coming over a rise, they could see the hills spilling down to a neat, rounded bay into which a narrow river drained. A large village of wooden homes, shops, and warehouses had sprung up on both sides of the river. A high wooden bridge joined the two banks. Piers thrust into the water, providing docks for small boats in the bay. A point of rocky land swooped around the far end of the harbor, punctuated with a lookout tower.
The hills held terraced gardens and pastures where sheep and cattle grazed. Down by the docks, people were unloading a catch from the fishing boats. Stretched nets hung on frameworks drying in the sun. High on the beach, five overturned boats were being repaired by shipwrights.
“I was beginning to think we’d have to walk around the entire world,” Nathan said.
Nicci nodded. “We’ll find out where we are, and choose our next course. We can inform them of Lord Rahl’s rule, and maybe someone here can tell us where to find Kol Adair.”
“I assume you are anxious to save the world, Sorceress,” Nathan said. “As anxious as I am to be made whole again.”
Nicci’s mouth formed a hard, straight line. “I will reserve judgment on just how seriously to take the witch woman’s words.”
Nathan frowned down at his shirt, disappointed by the now limp and ruined ruffles of the garment he had purchased in Tanimura less than two weeks earlier. “At the very least, a town that size should have a tailor who can replace my clothes. I hate to feel so … scruffy.”
Considering how barren the lands had been in their journey from the north, Nicci wondered how often these people saw strangers. When she noticed other roads leading upriver, as well as the fishing boats and the substantial harbor, she realized that they must have contact with other settled areas—just not from the wilderness up the Phantom Coast.
On the outskirts of town, the road took them past a cemetery on the hillside, where grave markers covered the slopes. Names had been chiseled into the low stone markers, while other graves were marked only by wooden posts with names carved into the wood. These flimsier posts were arranged much too closely to mark individual burial sites. Seeing the wooden posts and stone markers, Bannon seemed very disturbed.
Nathan ran his fingers down the weathered wood, where the name was all but unreadable. “I assume the two types of markers indicate a class system? The wealthy can afford fine stone markers and a spacious grave, while those less fortunate are simply marked with a post?”
“Maybe there are no bodies at all because there were no bodies to bury,” Nicci said. “Fishermen lost at sea, for instance.”
Bannon looked gray. “I think they are memorials for people who are not dead, but are gone.”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Gone? What do you mean by that, my boy?”
“Maybe they were … taken.” The young man swallowed hard.
Nicci turned to give him a hard look. “Taken by whom?”
His voice came out in a whisper. “Slavers, possibly.”
The idea troubled Nicci, and she led the way at a faster, more determined pace. Slavers had no place in Lord Rahl’s new rule, and Nicci looked forward to putting the matter to rest. One way or another.
When they reached the outskirts of the town, children playing in the dirt streets noticed the three travelers coming from the unexpected direction and called excitedly for their parents. Stout women worked at their washing, while two older couples sat together mending fishing nets that were stretched across wooden benches. Men and women working in the vegetable patches and farm fields looked up to see the strangers.
Nathan shook trail dust and sand from his pants and shirt, frowning at himself. “I don’t make a very formidable presence as the roving ambassador for D’Hara.” He tapped the sword in its scabbard at his hip. “But at least my fine blade shows me to be a man of some note.”
Bannon put his hand on the leather-wrapped hilt of his own sword, but couldn’t seem to think of what to say.
Nicci cautioned them both. “We won’t be drawing our swords unless there’s a need. We come bearing word that the Old World is now at peace. They will be glad to hear it.”
A middle-aged woman with brown hair tied in a thick braid raised a hand in welcome. A ten-year-old boy at her side stared at the newcomers as if they were monsters from the sea. “They came from the north!” he said, pointing vigorously. “There’s nothing up to the north.”
“Welcome to Renda Bay,” said the woman. “You look as if you’ve had a long journey.”
“We were shipwrecked,” Nicci said.
“We’ve been walking for days,” Bannon interjected. “We’re glad we found your village.”
“Renda Bay?” Nathan said. “I’ll mark it on my map.”
As more people gathered, Nicci assessed the modest homes, wooden common buildings, gardens and flowerbeds. The children did not look shabby, gaunt, or desperate. Much of the activity in the town had to do with cleaning fish in large troughs at wooden tables down by the docks. Iron racks loaded with fish filets hung over smoky kelp fires. Rows of broad basins were lined along the beach under the sun, filled with seawater that would slowly evaporate to leave a residue of valuable salt.
The villagers peppered them with questions. Nathan and Bannon told disjointed parts of their story, and the noise of conversation swelled around them. Nicci interrupted, “Call a gathering, and we will address everyone at once, so we don’t have to repeat ourselves.”
They met the town leader, a man named Holden, who was in his late thirties, with rich brown hair marked by a distinctive frosting of white at the temples. They learned that until recently he had owned his own fishing boat before he devoted his days to local administration.
Holden led them to the town square, where many eager people had already gathered to hear the strangers’ tale. Nicci let Nathan speak, because the wizard was quite comfortable with the sound of his own voice. “I am Nathan Rahl, currently the representative of Lord Richard Rahl of the D’Haran Empire, the man who defeated Emperor Jagang.” He looked at them, as if expecting cheers. “You may have been wondering why you are no longer under the crushing boot heel of the Imperial Order?”
The villagers’ expressions did not show terror or even awareness. Holden said, “We’ve heard of Jagang, but it’s been three decades or more since we saw troops or any representative from the Imperial Order.”