Faith of the Fallen

"Tomorrow, then," Victor said with his sly laugh. "I don't think I will sleep tonight," he called after Richard.

The months of effort seemed to all come down upon him at once. He climbed into the back of Ishaq's wagon and bid the man a good night. As Ishaq left, Richard curled up under a tarp to shut out the light and was asleep before Jori returned. He was dead to the world as the wagon rolled away.

Nicci watched as Richard departed with Ishaq. She wanted to do this on her own. She wanted it to be her part. She wanted to contribute something of value.

Only then could she face him.

She knew precisely how the Order would react to the statue. They would view it as a threat. They would not allow other people to see it. The Order would destroy it. It would be gone. No one would ever know about it.

Twining her fingers together, she wondered how to proceed-what should be first. Then it came to her. She had gone to him before. He had helped Richard. He was Richard's friend. Nicci rushed across the sprawling site of the palace and up the hill.

She was winded by the time she reached the blacksmith's shop. The grim blacksmith was putting away tools. He had already banked the fire in his forge. The smells, the sights, even the layer of iron dust and soot gave Nicci a joyful flash of her father's shop. She understood, now, the look that had been in her father's eyes. She doubted he had fully understood it himself, but she did, now. The blacksmith looked up without smiling as she rushed into his shop.

"Mr. Cascella! I need you."

His frown grew. "What's that matter? Why are you crying? Is it Richard?

Have they-"

"No. Nothing like that." She grabbed his meaty hand and tugged at him.

It was like tugging on a boulder. "Please. Come with me. It's important."

He gestured with his other hand around at his shop. "But I have to clean up for the night."

She yanked again on his hand. She felt tears stinging her eyes.

"Please! This is important!"

He wiped his free hand down his face. "Lead the way, then."

Nicci felt a little foolish pulling the burly blacksmith along by the hand as she raced down the hill. He asked where they were going, but she didn't answer. She wanted to get down there before the light was gone.

When they reached the plaza, guards were patrolling up at the top of the steps, keeping everyone off the plaza. Nicci saw Ishaq nearby, loading long planks in a wagon. She called to him, and, seeing the blacksmith with her, he ran over.

"Nicci! What is it? You look a frightful-"

"I have to show you both the statue. Now."

Victor's scowl grew. "It will be unveiled tomorrow when Richard-"

"No! You must see it now."

They both fell silent. Ishaq leaned close as he gestured covertly.

"We can't go up there. It's guarded."

"I can." Nicci angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her voice regained the quality of grave authority she had wielded so often, that dark intonation that had passed judgment on countless lives, and sent people to their death. "Wait here."

Both men pulled back at the menace in her eyes.

Nicci straightened her back. She lifted her chin. She was a Sister of the Dark.

She ascended the steps in a measured pace, as if the palace were hers.

It was. She was the Slave Queen. These men were hers to command.

She was Death's Mistress.

The guards approached her warily, sensing that the woman in black was a threat. Before they could speak, she spoke first.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What are we doing here?" one asked. "We're guarding the emperor's palace, that's what we're doing-"

"How dare you talk back to me. Do you know who I am?"

"Well. . I don't think I-"

"Death's Mistress. Perhaps you have heard of me?"

All dozen men straightened. She saw their eyes take in the black dress again, then her long blond hair, her blue eyes. By their reaction to what they saw, it was obvious to Nicci that her reputation preceded her. Before they could say another word, she spoke again.

"And what do you suppose Emperor Jagang's consort is doing here? Do you suppose I came without my master? Of course not, you idiots!"

"The emperor. ." several mumbled together in shock.

"That's right, the emperor is arriving for the dedication tomorrow. I have come to make my own examination, first, and what do I find? Idiots!

Here you stand, with your thumbs in your ears, while you should be standing to greet His Excellency as he arrives into the city mere hours from now."

The guards' eyes widened. "But. . no one told us. Where is he coming in? We haven't been informed-"

"Arid do you suppose a man as important as Jagang wishes his whereabouts to be known for any assassin in the neighborhood to find him?

And if there are assassins about, here you fools stand!"

All the men bowed urgently.

"Where?" the sergeant asked. "Where is His Excellency arriving?"

"He's arriving from the north."

The man licked his lips. "But, but, which road from the north? There are any number of routes-"

Nicci planted her fists on her hips. "Do you suppose His Excellency is going to a

The men bobbed and bowed nervously, wanting to leave to do their duty, but not knowing where to go.

Nicci gritted her teeth and leaned toward the sergeant. "Get your men out to one of the north roads. Now. That is you duty. All the roads are to be guarded. Pick one!"

The men bowed repeatedly as they sidestepped away. After scurrying only a few feet, they broke into a dead run. She watched them collect other guards as they went.

As they vanished out of the plaza, Nicci turned to the two startled men. They climbed the stairs, now unhindered by guards. Some of the people treading the cobblestone paths, come to look at the carvings on the walls, had heard yelling and turned to watch what she was doing. Women on their knees, praying up at the carvings in stone of the Light shining down on depraved people, looked over their shoulders.

As Victor and Ishaq reached the top of the plaza, Nicci untied the line, grabbed the linen in her fists, and ripped the shroud off the statue.

Both men stopped in their tracks.

In a half circle around the plaza, the walls were covered with the story of man's inadequacy. All around them, man was shown small, depraved, deformed, impotent, terrified, cruel, mindless, wicked, greedy, corrupt, and sinful. He was depicted forever torn between otherworldly forces controlling every aspect of his miserable existence, an existence incomprehensible in its caldron of churning evil, with death his only escape into salvation.

Those who had found virtue in this world, under the protection of the Creator's Light, looked lifeless, their faces without emotion, without awareness, their bodies as unbending as cadavers. They stared out at the world through a vacant, mindless stupor, while all around them danced rats, through their legs wriggled snakes, and over their heads flew vultures.

In the vortex of this torrent of tortured life, this cataclysm of corruption, this depravity and debauchery, rose up Richard's statue in bold, glowing opposition.

It was a devastating indictment of all around it.

The mass and weight of the ugliness surrounding Richard's statue seemed to shrink back into insignificance. The evil of the wall carvings seemed now to be crying out at their own dishonesty in the face of incorruptible beauty and truth.

The two figures in the center posed in a state of harmonious balance.