“When I kept telling the Sisters I was cold, they brought me more blankets, and I used just a tiny bit of the gift to unravel the fibers, which I reassembled into a rope, a long rope, thread after thread. It was strong enough to hold my weight.
“I spent a week being cheerful and attentive to my studies so as to lull the Sisters into a sense of complacency, and then one moonless night I made my way to one of the highest rooms. I barricaded the door after claiming that I meant to study spell books throughout the night. I was a curious young man and wanted to build my powers as a wizard, even though I knew they would never free me.” He unconsciously rubbed at his neck, as if he still felt the iron collar there. “Because a prophet is too dangerous, you see.”
He looked at Bannon to make sure the young man was listening. “I opened the high window and fastened my rope securely to an anchor. I was precluded from using a levitation spell, so I had to resort to more traditional means. When I lowered myself over the sill and looked down, I felt as if the drop went all the way to the underworld.” He regarded Bannon, cocking an eyebrow. “When one lives inside stone-walled rooms, it’s difficult to get a sense of the vastness of the sky or the long drop to the ground below. But I was resolved. I wrapped the rope around my waist and began to lower myself down the wall.”
Nicci was skeptical of the story. “The Palace of the Prophets is guarded by wards and shields. No one could just climb through a window and escape.”
He lifted a finger. “And why do you think the Sisters added all those protective spells? Back then, the women assumed the shields blocking the lower doors would be sufficient. They never thought I would be foolish enough to climb out the highest tower.” He cleared his throat. “The important part is that I was dangling by a rope from the tower wall—very brave, I might add. But I had miscalculated. When I was still nearly a hundred feet from the base of the tower, the rope ran out. I was just hanging there!”
He paused for suspense, and looked at Bannon. “I did know how to use Additive Magic, so I made the strands of the rope grow. I should have guessed that the Sisters would detect this through the Rada’Han, but what could I do? I certainly couldn’t climb all the way back up. I extended the rope one foot at a time and eased myself down, but it took a great deal of energy. I was so exhausted I could barely hold on to the rope by the time I reached the ground.”
He let out a long, wistful sigh. “By then, the Sisters had discovered what I was doing, and they captured me as soon as my feet touched the paving tiles.”
“Even if you did make it away from the Palace of the Prophets and over the bridge into Tanimura, your Rada’Han would have prevented you from escaping. The Sisters could have rounded you up at any time,” Nicci said. “I find your story questionable.”
“My story is entertaining, and it also has a point.” He turned to face Bannon. “Sometimes you must be daring to accomplish a great thing, but no matter how daring you are, your deeds will be diminished if you forget to plan properly.”
They toiled higher along a steep switchbacked path. The trees thinned, leading up to a high point ahead.
Nathan stretched his arms. “After that, the Sisters kept me bottled up so tightly that I could never again plan a serious escape. Therefore, I amused myself by writing other adventures and secretly distributing them throughout the land. They became quite popular, enjoyed by many.”
They were out of breath as they finally reached the summit of the ridge and crossed over to take in a sprawling, breathtaking view.
When asking about the way to Kol Adair, they had repeatedly been told about a vast fertile valley filled with green forests, croplands, and villages. But this sight was not at all what they expected.
As the three surveyed the landscape, Nicci saw only brown desolation to the horizon. This was no verdant valley, but a dry and cracked crater, bounded to the north by a high plateau. The heavily forested foothills spilled down to a pale, fuzzy boundary of death. Dust devils skirled across the dry basin. White expanses of sparkling salt indicated where lakes had dried up, leaving only poisoned soil. The terrible desolation spread outward from a central point, countless miles away.
And the dead zone was clearly growing.
Nathan drew a deep disappointed breath. “I will have to update my map.”
CHAPTER 36
With all the vegetation dead, the old road ahead became more plain, and they walked down the rocky trail toward the wide desolate valley. When Nicci inhaled, the air carried a burnt, powdery smell with a hint of rot, as if vapors stirred up by thermal currents wafted into the foothills.
They paused at a rocky switchback to look across the great basin. Nicci could discern straight lines etched across the barren lands, man-made paths that were now covered with blown dust. She could also see what had been small villages, larger towns, possibly even the ruins of a city.
Nicci said, “This was a well-traveled and inhabited area, but something sucked it all dry.”
“There are still habitable areas on the fringe of the desolation,” Nathan said, pointing to the transition zone where the green of vegetation faded into the cracked brown of death. He shaded his eyes and looked into the hazy distance, beyond the valley. “That blowing dust impairs visibility, but you can see the towering mountains off in the distance far to the east.” He pointed. “Kol Adair may be somewhere up on one of those mountain passes.”
“But how can we cross that desolation?” Bannon asked.
Nicci scanned the landscape. “We should go around, skirt the valley to the north, stick to the greener areas in the foothills.”
“In fact, I suggest we visit one of those villages,” Nathan suggested. “I’d like to learn what happened down there, if that was once a great fertile valley.” He screwed up his face in a distasteful expression. “It does not appear natural.”
Nicci bit her lower lip. “Agreed. Lord Rahl will need to know.”
“And the world may need saving, Sorceress,” Nathan said, without any obvious hint of humor. She did not respond.
As the path descended, they worked their way into the badlands, where rocks towered like monoliths, reddish sandstone eroded by wind and water. The vegetation transitioned from tall pines to gnarled scrub oak, mesquite, and spiky yucca that had survived as the terrain grew less hospitable.
In the heat of the day, Nicci packed away her traveling cloak. Her black dress was comfortable, but the rocks underfoot were hard through the soles of her boots. Bannon’s face quickly became sunburned.
Their road took the path of least resistance, following the curves of the slickrock bluffs and winding into rocky arroyos. Pebbles pattered down from above, and they saw skittering movement—lizards darting from sunny rocks into shadowy crevices.