CHAPTER

Five

Faegan sat in his wooden chair on wheels, happily playing his magnificent, centuries-old violin, one of the few personal treasures he had allowed himself to bring from Shadowood.

All around him, the fliers of the fields turned and wheeled through the air, their colorful wings tracing delicate patterns as if in response to the music. Sometimes they teased him, flying close then suddenly darting away; sometimes they actually landed upon his shoulder or knee as he played. Each one had a body as long as a grown man‘s forearm, with a wingspan of several feet. And each pair of diaphanous wings contained a riot of colors, in patterns that somehow were never duplicated from one flier to the next. There was nothing else like them in the world, and they were particularly special to Faegan.

He had not personally created the giant butterflies, for they had become endowed more than three centuries earlier, due to their accidental consumption of the waters of the Caves of the Paragon. But it was he who was responsible for the amazing attribute that set them apart from all the other creatures of the world, save man himself. For these butterflies were able to communicate with humans.

One of the first things Faegan had done upon arriving at the Redoubt was to construct an aviary for his winged treasures. He had spent several days conjuring it from one of the larger rooms. The chamber in which he now sat was over three stories tall, made from light blue marble, and lit by numerous glowing oil lamps. A balcony provided a wonderful view of the entire space.

Inlaid into the floor of the room were two very large, black marble circles. One contained the letters of the Eutracian alphabet, fashioned in white. The other contained the numbers one through ten, all fashioned in red. Recently Faegan had been busy trying to teach the butterflies the basics of the Eutracian numerical system. Wigg had originally been rather critical of the elder wizard spending so much of his time in this manner, but he had finally relented when Faegan had explained.

We may have great need of these friendly, beautiful creatures, the master wizard had said.

And perhaps much sooner than we would like to think.

So far Geldon had been their only link to the outside world. They had briefly considered sending one or more of the gnomes out into the city to collect information, but they were afraid that would only invite undue attention, since none of their kind had been seen in this part of Eutracia for over three centuries. Therefore it was Faegan‘s plan to eventually use the butterflies, who could fly unseen—at least at night—and reach places the gnomes and Geldon could not. Using the two wheels in the floor, they could then report their findings.

He laid his violin gently down on his lap. Then he raised a hand, and a particularly beautiful flier of violet and yellow came to rest upon his forearm. It remained there calmly, slowly opening and closing its great, elegant wings. They sat there, man and butterfly, regarding each other.

Faegan knew of Wigg‘s impending presence long before he saw him. Wigg approached slowly, coming to stand next to the elder wizard‘s chair. He admired the fliers as they soared about the room.

―And how does it progress?‖ he asked.

―They are coming along well, but are still not yet ready,‖ he replied. ―I fear they still need more time than we may have, especially since we are unsure of the dangers that seem to be gathering against us.‖

Wigg leaned his long, lanky frame against the balcony rail. ―Do you have any more thoughts about Joshua‘s flying creatures?‖ he asked hopefully. ―I have been endlessly scouring the libraries here for a clue, but I have not yet found anything to enlighten us. Other than the fact that they are of the Vagaries, they remain a complete mystery.‖

Faegan scowled. He had not been able to produce more insight into the situation other than his initial, cryptic quotation from the Tome. He slammed his free hand hard on the arm of his chair in frustration. Startled, the yellow-and-violet flier flew away. ―You realize, Wigg, that we are looking in the wrong places,‖ he said. ―If we truly wish to solve this riddle, there is another, far more valuable source where we must seek the answer. Perhaps when Geldon returns, he can tell us it is safe enough to venture out.‖

―Yes,‖ Wigg said sadly, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. ―Perhaps.‖

Each knew what the other was not saying: that the truth of whatever was behind both Joshua‘s birds of prey and the mysterious disappearance of the consuls could most probably only be found in the Tome, somewhere within the volume of the Prophecies—the only volume Faegan had not read. But the Tome was deep inside the Caves of the Paragon. Faegan sighed. The Caves might as well have been a thousand leagues away, for all the good they could do them right now.

―And how is Joshua?‖ he asked.

―He is better. Now that he is eating properly, his strength continues to improve. But despite my continued questioning, he has been able to add little to his original story. It appears that everything happened so fast, much of it is still just a blur to him. Perhaps it always will be.‖

The two wizards remained quiet for a time, lost in their individual thoughts as they watched the fliers soar about the aviary.

At last Faegan decided to force himself free of his depression. Carefully placing the violin on the floor, he called on the craft and suddenly levitated his chair up and over the brass rail, joining the fliers. Laughing raucously, he whirled about the room, chasing the magnificent butterflies.

Wigg simply scowled. Placing his weight upon one foot, he folded his arms across his chest, shook his head, and arched his right eyebrow sarcastically. Despite his mastery of the craft, he can be such a child! he thought, irritated. There was a task they both needed to attend to, and now was not the time to be frolicking with butterflies.

―You really must try this!‖ Faegan exclaimed as the giant butterflies careened and swooped about him. ―Come on, Wigg!‖ he shouted. ―Don‘t be such an old curmudgeon!‖

Smiling widely, the wizard in the chair soared to the brass rail directly before Wigg and hovered there. Two brightly colored fliers came to land, one upon each of Faegan‘s shoulders. As far as Wigg was concerned, it only made the entire situation more ridiculous: Faegan looked more like some bizarre vendor at a Eutracian province fair than the most powerful wizard in the world.

―You take life far too seriously!‖ Faegan exclaimed, grinning at the imperious lead wizard from the other side of the rail. He pursed his lips, thinking. Then he smiled.

―I can make you participate, you know,‖ he added cryptically. ―I‘m more powerful than you are.‖

Wigg narrowed his eyes. ―You wouldn‘t dare!‖

That was all Faegan needed to hear. Narrowing his eyes, he caused Wigg to levitate. Wigg struggled to fight it, but it was no use. Faegan‘s gift was too strong. He took Wigg higher, over the rail, to join him and the fliers in the aviary.

Faegan promptly turned Wigg upside down, so that his robes fell over his face, blinding him, and revealing bare legs that kicked futilely at the air. Faegan snickered like a schoolboy who had just dipped an unsuspecting girl‘s braid into the inkwell. Or worse.

―Put me down, you fool!‖ Wigg shouted from within the folds of his robes, arms waving wildly.

Faegan smiled. ―Say please,‖ he shouted back.

―Never!‖

―Suit yourself,‖ Faegan answered happily. Leaving Wigg alone in his distress, he resumed soaring about the massive room in his chair.

―She awaits us!‖ Wigg finally shouted, his voice oddly muffled by his robes. ―Or have you forgotten, most powerful one?‖ he added sarcastically.

―Yes, very well,‖ Faegan answered, turning his chair away from the butterflies. Waving his arm, he righted Wigg, whose face was more red from anger than from his time spent upside down. They both floated back to the balcony.

―Do you have some water from the Well of the Redoubt?‖ Faegan asked, his mood having turned serious again.

Still angry, Wigg gave him a nod. Saying nothing more, Faegan retrieved his violin and wheeled his chair out of the chamber and into the adjoining hall, acting for all the world as if he thought Wigg had nothing better to do than follow him wherever he went.

Wigg let out an exasperated sigh. With a thought, he commanded the doors to the aviary to close silently behind him as he followed his eccentric but benevolent tormentor.

Shailiha smiled bravely as the two wizards entered her room. As always, she managed somehow to summon up the necessary courage to endure what the wizards said they needed to do to make her whole again. She drew strength from their concern for her, from Tristan‘s love and support, and from the fact that she had a daughter to care for. Even now, Morganna could be heard cooing happily in her crib, just a few feet away.

―Your Highness,‖ Wigg said gently. ―How are you feeling today?‖

―Much better, Wigg, thank you.‖ Shailiha stood and walked across the room to the wizards, the silk of her pink, floor-length gown rustling with her steps. ―I want to thank you both for your constant care,‖ she said then, her words almost a whisper. ―Without you and Tristan, Morganna and I would surely have been lost forever.‖

Wigg cleared his throat. ―Are you ready?‖ he asked.

―Yes,‖ she said simply. She walked back to her chair and sat down, waiting for the wizards to begin.

Wigg drew up another chair, while Faegan wheeled his into place in front of the princess. She closed her eyes, just as she had done so many times before.

She has been through so much, Wigg thought. But it is almost over.

It had taken a great deal of insight, coupled with Faegan‘s knowledge of the Vagaries, to finally unravel the secret to the incantation the Coven had used upon her. Shailiha‘s torment at the hands of the sorceresses had proven more of a riddle than they had first thought. The spell had been treacherously seductive. Not only had it infused itself into her mind, but it had also taken command of her endowed, but still untrained blood.

The wizards had found an answer in the water of the Caves.

Untrained, endowed blood could be empowered—temporarily—by proximity to water from the Caves of the Paragon. The effect could either be painful or pleasurable. When Tristan had accidentally discovered the Caves, he had found the water irresistible. In Shailiha‘s case, the closeness of the thick, red liquid had proven to be difficult to bear. However, the process was proving successful. The princess‘ trials had been painful both in body and mind, but the wizards believed that she was near the end of her torment.

Wigg reached beneath his robe to retrieve a small pewter vial full of water from the Well of the Redoubt, where water from the caves was always kept. He watched as Faegan closed his eyes and began to call forth the spell that they hoped would banish yet more of the chaos from the princess‘ mind. Shailiha sat completely still in her chair. The room was wrapped in total silence. Nothing stirred, not even the baby in her crib.

Slowly Faegan nodded his head. At this signal, Wigg removed the stopper from the top of the vial. Again Faegan nodded, and Wigg automatically responded by pouring a single drop of the fluid upon the open palm of the princess. The effect upon her was immediate, and far more startling than it had ever been before.

Shailiha screamed. Sweat began to soak through her gown in dark, ominous splotches. At the sound of her mother‘s voice the baby immediately began crying. Shailiha‘s entire body began to shake uncontrollably, her hazel eyes rolling grotesquely up into her head, leaving only the whites exposed. She tried to stand, but Wigg forced her back down, holding her in place. This time her strength was such that he was forced to use the craft to augment his own brawn, just to keep her in place. She tossed her head violently, sending long blond hair flying back and forth, and foam began bubbling from the corners of her mouth. It snaked wetly down her chin and onto her already soaked gown.

―Hold her!‖ Faegan shouted, his eyes still closed. ―This is what we have been waiting for!‖

With a last, earsplitting scream, the princess slumped forward in her chair, unconscious.

Wigg barely caught her before she fell to the marble floor. Faegan opened his eyes, ending his spell. He examined Shailiha intently, looking for the sign he and Wigg hoped would prove the final banishment of the first mistress‘s awful work.

From all about Shailiha now came the beginnings of a soft blue glow. It built in intensity until it had become one of the brightest ever seen by the two wizards. Then it began to coalesce, spinning into a maelstrom of swirling light that flew from her body and spun crazily around the chamber. Oil lamps crashed to the floor; the silk sheets from Shailiha‘s great four-poster bed flew violently into the air. Furniture crashed and tumbled, noisily splintering against marble walls. Wigg quickly handed the inert princess to Faegan and ran to the baby‘s crib, covering its open top protectively with his body.

And then, with a last, insane howl, the azure maelstrom rose to the top of the room, flattening out against the ceiling, where it dissipated into nothingness. The objects it had picked up in its whirling madness immediately fell, crashing and smashing down upon the marble floor.

Bits of glass, cloth, and furniture were scattered everywhere. The shrieking of the wind ceased, and all that remained was the ordinary sound of a baby crying.

Shailiha, lying in Faegan‘s arms, groaned softly and sleepily opened her eyes.

After calming the infant, Wigg returned to Faegan‘s side. He gazed intently at the princess, and then a smile broke out across his long, creased face. ―You‘re finally well,‖ he said softly, a tear beginning to gather in the corner of one eye. ―Free.‖

She stood slowly, shakily. Reaching out, she hugged Wigg close, then bent over to embrace Faegan. But even this low level of exertion proved too much for her, and she started to fall.

Wigg swept her up in his arms.

―The best thing for you now is sleep,‖ he said, smiling into her eyes. ―The next time you wake up, you will be a new woman.‖ He turned her to face the crib, where Morganna lay. ―A new woman with a new baby,‖ he added happily.

Then he laid her down upon the bed and covered her with blankets that had been caught up in the maelstrom. Faegan wheeled his chair over to look at her. Already, Shailiha was asleep, and for the first time the wizards could see in her face the true, rejuvenating sleep of the peaceful and the just.

Faegan reached one of his hands out and placed it upon the sleeping princess‘ head, closing his eyes. He remained like that for several moments, then opened his eyes and smiled. ―She is truly well,‖ he murmured gratefully. ―We have done it, Wigg. I am proud to have been of service to her. I only wish I could have been here to help guide her and her brother all these years—and to witness their remarkable birth.‖

Wigg was about to open his mouth to speak, but suddenly he felt something inside of him slip, and his body jolted a bit.

He turned to Faegan, wide-eyed, and saw that the elder wizard had obviously felt it, too. His face white, Faegan gripped the arms of his chair in an autonomic response to his panic.

Neither one spoke, as if putting words to their suspicions would somehow, unbelievably, make them true.

Lifting the Paragon from his robe, Wigg held it to the light—to see what for three centuries had always been their greatest fear.