Every wall of the octagonal lookout chamber had an expansive window, which would allow sentinels to watch in all directions. Each such window had been filled with a broad pane of deep red glass. Three of the eight windows had been shattered by time or brute force, and now shards of broken glass protruded from the window frames like crimson daggers. The other five windows were miraculously intact despite their obvious age, which led Nathan to guess that the glass had been enhanced by magic somehow. The wind whispered more loudly, whisking through the broken windows.
Standing in the middle of the open platform, he turned slowly as he tried to determine what had happened here. Sprawled on the iron-hard floor were more skeletons, all clad in ancient armor. Dark stains on the stone wall blocks marked a varnish of blackened blood, and long white grooves seemed to be scratches, as if desperate fingernails had gouged the quarried stone itself.
Nathan walked across the wooden boards, and one plank gave an alarming crack, as if it was about to give way. He instinctively lurched back, and his boot came down on the femur of one of the fallen warriors. Stumbling, he lost his balance, fell into the wall, and reached out to grab for balance.
His hand caught on the open sill of a lookout window where broken red glass protruded. He hissed in pain and pulled back, looking at the deep gash in his palm. Blood oozed out, and he grimaced.
Looking at the blood, he muttered, “It would be such a simple task to heal myself if I had magic.” He was embarrassed by his clumsiness even though he was alone. Now he would have to bind the gash and wait until Nicci could take care of the wound.
Just then he realized that the sound of the wind had taken on an odd character. The tower itself thrummed with a deep vibration. A bright, scarlet light increased inside the observation room, throbbing from the splash of blood Nathan had left behind.
The five intact red panes began to glow.
CHAPTER 29
Continuing down the path, Nicci moved through the forest, and Bannon hurried after her. “Don’t worry, Sorceress, I can keep up. A woman traveling alone on an empty trail might attract trouble, but if any dangerous men see me and my sword, they will think twice before they harass you.”
She turned her cool gaze on him. “You’ve seen what I can do. Do you doubt my ability to take care of any problem that might arise?”
“Oh, I know about your powers, Sorceress—but others may not. Just having me here with a sharp blade”—he patted his sword—“is sure to prevent problems. The best way out of a difficult situation is to make sure it doesn’t arise in the first place.” He lowered his voice. “You taught me that yourself, after you rescued me from the robbers in Tanimura.”
“Yes, I did.” Nicci gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. “Don’t make me rescue you again.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises, because circumstances have a way of making you regret them. Did you promise your friend Ian that you would always stay by his side? That you wouldn’t abandon him in times of danger?”
Bannon swallowed hard, but he kept walking beside her. “I had no choice. I couldn’t do anything about that.”
“I did not accuse you, nor did I say you had a choice. I just point out that if you had made such a promise, it was one you could not have kept.”
He pondered in silence for a dozen steps. “You know that my childhood wasn’t as perfect as I wish it had been. That doesn’t mean I can’t hope for better.” He moved aside an aspen branch that dangled across the path. Nicci ducked and kept moving. “And what about you, Sorceress? Did you have a terrible childhood? Someone must have hurt you badly to give you such a hard edge. Your father?”
Nicci stopped in the track. Bannon took several more steps before he realized she had paused behind him. He turned.
“No, my father didn’t hurt me. In fact, he was rather kind. His business was making armor, and he was quite well known. He taught me the constellations. I grew up in a village that was nice enough, I suppose, before the Imperial Order came.” Nicci looked up, finally admitting aloud what she had known for a long time. “It was my mother who made my childhood a nightmare. She scarred me with lessons that she called the truth, made me think that my hardworking father was the evil one, that his beliefs were oppressive to all people. And the Imperial Order reinforced those beliefs.”
She strode ahead at a faster pace, not caring whether Bannon kept up with her. “She made me live in terrible, dirty places. Again and again I was infested with lice, but it was all for my own good, she said. It was to build my character, to make me understand.” Nicci sneered. “I loathe my mother for it now, but it took me a century and a half to realize it.”
“A century and a half?” Bannon asked. “But that’s not possible. You, you’re—”
She turned to look at him. “I am over one hundred and eighty years old.”
“You’re immortal, then?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“I age normally now, but I still have a long life ahead of me, and I intend to accomplish much.”
“As do I,” Bannon said. “I’ll accompany you and do my best to help you and Wizard Nathan achieve your purpose. I can prove myself.”
She barely gave him a glance. “You may stay with us, so long as you don’t become a nuisance.”
“I won’t become a nuisance. I promise.” He realized what he had said and bit back his words. “I mean, I don’t promise, but I will do my best not to be a nuisance anymore.”
“And will you know when you become a nuisance?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. There is no doubt.”
Nicci was surprised at his confidence. “How will you know?”
“Because you will tell me in no uncertain terms.” His face was so serious she couldn’t help but believe him.
Though the wide path implied that it had once been well traveled, the downed aspens and oaks hadn’t been cleared after several winters, and she and Bannon frequently had to climb over or step around. If there was a village ahead, its people did not often come this way. She had seen no footprints, no sign of other travelers, and she decided they would probably end up camping again in the forest.
The young man broke the silence again. “Do you think anyone has the perfect life I imagine? Do you believe there is an idyllic place like that?”
“We would have to make it for ourselves,” Nicci said. “If the people create an oppressive culture, if they allow tyrannical rulers, then they get what they deserve.”
“But shouldn’t there be a peaceful land where people can just be happy?”
“It is naive to entertain a fantasy like that.” Nicci pursed her lips. “But Lord Rahl is trying to build a world where people live in freedom. If they wish to make an idyllic place, they will have the chance to do so. That is what I hope for.”
The path widened into a road, and the forest thinned into an open park, an expansive area where they could see homesteads with a patchwork of crops across the cleared land. The farmhouses were built from logs and capped with shake-shingle roofs.
Bannon said, “Those must be outlying farms for the village we’re looking for. See how the trees have been cut down, the land cleared? All those fences made from fieldstones?”
“I see no one about, though,” Nicci said.
Although the road remained a prominent track, it was overgrown with grass, showing no recent hoofprints or wheel marks. They passed stone walls that had fallen into disrepair; weeds and grass protruded from the cracks. Even the fields were wild and overgrown. The area seemed entirely abandoned.
Nicci grew more wary as the silence deepened. On one farm, a field of tall sunflowers drooped, their large heads sunbursts of yellow petals around a central brown circle. Bannon pointed out, “Those fields went to seed over several growing seasons. Notice how disorganized they are.” He shook his head. “No cabbage farmer would be so unruly.” He stepped up to the nearest sunflower, ran his hands along its hairy stalk. “These were planted in rows several years ago, but