CHAPTER

Thirty-four

Ox stood gingerly upon both feet, testing his weight. He was stunned at what the wizards had been able to accomplish in so short a time. Faegan and Wigg had worked diligently for hours to reattach the severed foot, and had at last been successful. But it would take several weeks, they told the warrior, before he was himself again. The glow that had once surrounded both the lower leg and the newly reattached ankle had faded, and would soon disappear altogether.

―Ox still no believe,‖ the dumbfounded warrior stammered. ―Ox give gratitude.‖

―You‘re welcome,‖ Wigg said, echoing Faegan‘s thoughts.

Upon hearing of the attack on Ilendium from the princess, the wizards had become quiet, and quite visibly disturbed. They had also listened intently to Geldon and Joshua‘s report. Then they had immediately excused themselves, going off to be alone. They had come out to reattach the Minion‘s foot, and then had beckoned everyone to join them in the Archives.

Despite the victory regarding the warrior‘s foot, the mood was both tense and morose.

Tristan, Shailiha and her baby, Celeste, Joshua, Ox, Geldon, and the two wizards were present. The prince could see that Faegan wished to move on to more important, more private matters, as did he.

Wigg turned his white eyes in the general direction of Joshua. ―The Minion is your charge,‖

he said flatly. ―Despite the fact that it is Tristan who is his true lord, you are the one who brought him here. And neither Faegan nor I have the time or the inclination to monitor him.

You are of the craft, and should it become necessary to use it regarding the Minion, we expect you to do so. If such becomes the case, you are to report your actions to us at once.‖

He then turned toward Ox. ―Please understand we mean you no ill will, provided nothing untoward happens as a result of your presence. Given the circumstances in Eutracia we must be careful at all times, and your appearance here was quite unexpected.‖

―Ox understand,‖ the warrior said simply. He turned to Tristan. ―I live to serve,‖ he said, bowing his head.

Tristan took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. This will take some getting used to, he thought.

At Faegan‘s nod, Joshua escorted Ox from the room.

Anxious for answers, it was Tristan who changed the subject. ―I want to know why the veins in my arm are turning black,‖ he said bluntly. ―I‘ve had no pain anywhere, except during the convulsion. Then it was all-encompassing. What is happening to me?‖

―As time progresses, the convulsions will grow in both intensity and frequency,‖ Faegan said.

―As to the veins, there is only one answer.‖ The wizard in the chair looked glumly to Tristan‘s shoulder. ―Put simply, your blood is dying.‖

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the room for several moments. ―Is there nothing that can be done?‖ Shailiha asked in a small, tentative voice.

―Faegan and I have done little else, night or day, other than search for a cure,‖ Wigg answered. ―We have uncovered several references in the scrolls of the Archives as to the possibility of an antidote.‖

At the sudden glimmer of hope in Tristan‘s and Shailiha‘s eyes, Faegan quickly held up a hand.

―But the formula remains elusive,‖ Wigg continued. ―Even if we were to deduce the calculations to produce the antidote, there might not be enough time or power to do so, given the decay of the Paragon and the resultant lessening of our gifts.‖

―And what of the stone?‖ Shailiha asked suddenly. ―Does its condition continue to worsen?‖

―Not only is the stone‘s condition worsening,‖ Faegan replied, ―but it is doing so at a progressively faster rate. We calculate that it will now be approximately one month before the Paragon is completely void of color, and the world is without the craft of magic. Save for that one, still-unknown being whom we believe is garnering it for himself. You should also know that both Wigg and I have experienced a further, dramatic loss of our powers,‖ he said sadly, ―reducing our effectiveness at finding a way out of all of this. As our powers lessen, we also surmise that the strength of the being responsible for this grows in direct proportion.‖

He paused. ―And whoever that being is, he or she will be very difficult to stop,‖ he said softly.

―But what of the Tome in all of this?‖ Tristan asked urgently. He glanced over to see that the white, leather-bound book was still resting securely on the table nearby. ―Wigg and I risked our lives so that it might be brought here, and so I could read the Prophecies of the Tome for you. Is that not still the best course of action?‖

Silence reclaimed the room as the prince and princess waited for one of the wizards to speak.

It was finally Wigg who broached the reply. ―No, Tristan,‖ he said, knowing how difficult this would be for the prince to hear. ―We cannot let you. At least not now.‖

―But why not?‖ the prince exclaimed, a clear mix of frustration and anger showing on his face. ―Is it not true that the Tome may hold the key to our problems?‖

―Yes,‖ Faegan said. ―But it is now also quite true that your blood is, to a large extent, the cause of all of our problems, as well. As I said, your blood is dying. Given the current condition of your blood we cannot know what putting the stone around your neck might do to you. It is for this same reason that your training cannot now begin. And all of this has become yet more complicated, given the attack on Ilendium.‖

Tristan looked to Shailiha to see that she was as confused by Faegan‘s words as he was.

―Why do you think they destroyed Ilendium?‖ he asked the wizards. ―It has no real strategic value.‖

For the first time that day, a small smile began to creep along Faegan‘s lips. He gave the twins a playful wink. ―Tell me,‖ he asked, ―what comes to mind when you think of Ilendium?‖

―Marble,‖ Shailiha said decisively. ―That‘s where the best marble comes from.‖

Wigg leaned forward, placing his arms carefully down on the highly polished mahogany tabletop. ―Yes,‖ he said. ―And we now believe that may be the reason behind all of our troubles.‖

Tristan was still stymied. ―I don‘t understand,‖ he said.

―Tell me,‖ Faegan asked him, ―have you ever, in your entire life, seen black marble with variegated veins of azure running through it?‖

Tristan tried to think. ―No,‖ he finally said. ―As a matter of fact, I have not.‖

―Nor will you ever,‖ Wigg countered. ―Unless you go to the quarries at Ilendium, the only place it can be found. The use of that particular marble was outlawed by the Directorate over three centuries ago. Any buildings containing it were ordered knocked down, and the marble was returned to the quarries to be buried. It has never been used since. Just like the wizard‘s warp that guards the entrance to the Caves of the Paragon, another guards that particular section of the quarry in which this marble can be found.‖

―But why?‖ Shailiha asked from the other side of the table. ―What is so special about it?‖

―It is dangerous,‖ Faegan said softly, ―and said to be of the craft. It has to do with the Ones Who Came Before.‖

Wigg had said that the Ones Who Came Before were the first true rulers of Eutracia, and had been responsible for first harnessing the craft and employing the orbs of the Vigors and the Vagaries.

They had written the Tome as a guide to the practice of magic. They had also left behind the Paragon, the jeweled conduit of magic, without which the practice of the craft would be impossible. It had been their hope that mankind would learn from their teachings, following only the Vigors and using the craft strictly for the practice of good.

Wigg had also made reference to a great struggle of centuries ago, in which the Ones Who Came Before had become embroiled with some dangerous adversaries. They had hidden the Tome and the Paragon to be found, hopefully, by the next generation of the endowed.

―I still do not understand,‖ Tristan protested. ―What does all of this have to do with us?‖

―Tristan,‖ Wigg said rather apologetically, ―I‘m afraid we have not been entirely forthcoming with you all of these years. In truth, we know more of the Ones Who Came Before than we ever let on. Your parents knew also, as did each king and queen before them. This secret, this history of the Ones, if you will, has been closely guarded ever since the discovery of the Tome, the Paragon, and the subsequent knowledge that one day you and your twin sister would walk among us.‖

―Why weren‘t Shailiha and I informed?‖ the prince responded angrily. ―After all, as you have told us, we are the Chosen Ones. Is it not both our duty and our responsibility to know?‖

―It is for that very reason you were not told,‖ Faegan said coyly. ―As the Chosen Ones, you were to be protected at all costs. This meant keeping a great deal of knowledge from you for your own good, training you in these things little by little when the time was right. Your parents agreed.‖

―How is it that you know all of this?‖ Shailiha asked. ―And just when were we eventually to be told?‖

―Tristan was to be told first,‖ Wigg said, his white eyes gazing unseeing out across the table.

―It was to have been an essential part of his training—the training that we now cannot risk giving to him. And then, should he die or otherwise fail in his attempts to join the two sides of the craft, the duty was to fall to his twin, who would then be trained, taking up the challenge. As for how we know these things, well, in truth they came to us from the Tome.‖

Wigg pursed his lips, thinking of how to formulate his next words. ―There is a small section of the great work that you still know nothing about,‖ he said softly. His words landed on the ears of the Chosen Ones like a thunderclap.

―Do you mean to say that there is a fourth volume of the Tome?‖ Tristan asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

―Not exactly,‖ Wigg answered. ―It is in the form of a preface to the Tome—a history of the Ones, also written by themselves. However, it is incomplete. We believe they died before being able to finish it. The Directorate presumed this was because the great cataclysm the Ones predicted finally overtook them. The Ones wrote that should this feared disaster occur, it could wipe out the vast majority of human life. We believe that this is exactly what happened, leaving only a few humans, both endowed and unendowed alike, left to roam the wreckage of the land. We also contend that it is these survivors who eventually gave rebirth to the population that now inhabits Eutracia.‖

―What was the nature of this supposed struggle?‖ Tristan asked.

―A great war ensued,‖ Wigg said. ―They were near the end of it while writing the Tome and the Preface. Apparently a group of malcontents, bent on using the craft for their own purposes, had splintered off from these original, compassionate practitioners of the craft.

They were vying for power in much the same way the sorceresses did against the wizards three centuries ago. A great, final battle ensued, and their combined use of the craft amounted to almost the total destruction of the land and the people inhabiting it. A doomsday, if you will. Their cities apparently decimated, the surviving people must have been scattered, becoming nomadic tribes or cave dwellers. We think that all forms of education and culture were virtually extinguished, including the ability to command the craft. What truly saved magic was, of course, the natural passing of endowed blood through the coming generations.

But there was little possibility of practicing it or passing the knowledge down, since virtually all of the adepts had perished in the war. It was only after thousands of years had passed that nature replenished the earth and the sky. The remaining humans finally emerged from their ignorance to start again. We are the eventual result. Although over the passing centuries various of the endowed began to understand and use certain simplistic examples of their gifts, it was only upon finding the Tome and the stone that the craft was truly reborn.‖

―But how could the craft result in the nearly complete annihilation of everyone and everything around them?‖ Shailiha asked.

―We feel that both the Ones and their enemies were immensely more powerful than we are,‖

Faegan answered. ―Remember, unlike the wizards and the Coven, these mystics of old were exquisitely trained, in ways we may only be able to dream of. For all we know, they may have been studying and employing the craft for thousands of years.‖

Tristan felt something tugging at the back of his mind. ―If the history of the Ones is incomplete because of their demise in the cataclysm, then what about the Tome?‖ he asked, at first even he not completely understanding the importance of his words.

He has grasped it, Wigg thought to himself. One of the greatest of the riddles. The topic that perhaps more than any other prompted so much heated debate among the wizards of the Directorate. But he reined in his excitement. ―What do you mean?‖ he asked politely.

―You say that this preface, this so-called history of the Ones, was not completed because of their demise. If that is true, then how do we know the Tome itself is not incomplete for the very same reasons?‖

Faegan crackled. ―Well done!‖ A grin and a wink followed.

Tristan‘s eyes went wide at the overwhelming implications of such a premise. ―Do you mean to say—‖

―Yes,‖ Faegan interrupted. ―Even the Tome itself may be incomplete. What we know to be the art of magic may only be a sliver of what can actually be attained.‖

―What were they called?‖ Shailiha suddenly asked.

―Who?‖ Wigg asked back.

―The enemies of the Ones. What did they call themselves?‖

―They were called the Guild of the Heretics,‖ he answered softly.

―But what does the black-and-azure marble of Ilendium have to do with this?‖ Shailiha asked. ―I don‘t see how any of it pieces together.‖

At the princess‘ question, Wigg‘s face became very dark.

Faegan slumped down a bit into his chair. “ „And just as the Ones left behind certain instruments of the craft, the Heretics shall also leave behind marks of their mastery. One of these shall flow as azure through the darkness, and lay in wait for the coming of he who can release its power upon the land," ” he quoted.

―From the Tome, I assume,‖ Tristan mused, turning to look at his sister.

―Yes,‖ Faegan answered. ―But this time it comes from the Preface, not one of the three volumes proper.‖

―What does it mean?‖ Shailiha asked.

Faegan looked into the eyes of the Chosen Ones with an intensity he rarely showed. Drawing a long breath, he answered, ―Someone is attempting to construct the Gates of Dawn.‖

―The Gates of Dawn,‖ Tristan said. ―And these gates have something to do with the black marble from Ilendium?‖

―They have everything to do with it,‖ Faegan answered. ―The potential construction of the Gates is the reason that the mining and use of this particular marble was banned so many years ago. The black-and-azure marble is the material from which the Gates will be constructed. No other will do.‖

―Why?‖ Shailiha asked.

―Because the azure that runs through the marble is not stone,‖ Wigg answered solemnly. ―It is the preserved, endowed blood of the Guild of the Heretics.‖

Tristan shook his head in disbelief. ―How can that be?‖ he asked. ―Stone is not blood, nor blood stone.‖

“ „And before they perish, the Heretics will perfect the Art of Transposition, thereby converting their life force to stone . . . The resultant perfection shall be embedded into the living rock, and used to facilitate their return," ” Faegan said. ―From the Vigors. A warning from the Ones to whomever would eventually find the Tome and the stone. And, as you know, that person was Wigg.‖ He looked carefully into Tristan‘s eyes, waiting for the prince‘s understandable, inevitable disbelief. It didn‘t take long.

―Their return?‖ Tristan whispered incredulously. ―You must be joking! Do you mean to say that—‖

―Yes,‖ Wigg interrupted. ―It has long been our belief that both the Ones and the Heretics were eventually able to use their powers of the craft to delve into the study of what we now call the Afterlife. The ultimate pursuit of learning, wouldn‘t you agree? They may have turned to this because they felt they had pushed the boundaries of magic to its limits. We feel they are still alive. In spirit only, but that these spirits reside in the heavens. Because of having lost their material presences, they are unable to take true action here on earth, despite their great power.‖ He paused for a moment. ―Unless, of course, they are able to somehow return,‖ he added drily.

Faegan took up the explanation. ―The Tome makes several references to ‗those who shall reside in the sky,‘ ‖ he said slowly. ―As a part of their seemingly never-ending struggle, we think the Heretics now plan to unleash the power of the Gates. We also believe they could not do so until they had the use of one or more beings of immense, heretofore-unseen power residing here, with us. Otherwise they would have attempted to construct and employ the Gates centuries ago. These powerful beings now somehow here with us, these Heretics‘

servants, if you will, would presumably be dynamic enough to ensure the building and the subsequent empowerment of the Gates. And because of this, something formidable has happened to magic. That much is abundantly clear. It could only be something of a great, craft-altering magnitude for this opportunity to have finally presented itself after all these centuries. We must find out what it is. And we must stop the construction of the Gates.‖

―And just what would happen if they in fact did return?‖ Tristan asked.

―Due to the fact that the Heretics worship and practice only the Vagaries, they would probably see us as inconsequential, killing us all,‖ Wigg answered. ―And there would be absolutely nothing we could do to stop them. The craft would no longer exist as we know it, for they would never employ the Vigors. In fact, they would probably do all they could to stamp out forever the compassionate side of the craft. As for the unendowed population as a whole, I can only assume the Heretics would consider them to be the lowest forms of life. As such, they might do away with them altogether.‖

Tristan sat back in his chair, stunned. He looked to Shailiha to see that she was equally astonished. ―And you actually mean to say that the Heretics may be able to return from the Afterlife?‖ he whispered.

―Yes,‖ Wigg answered. ―And that the construction and empowerment of the Gates will allow this to happen.‖

―But how?‖ Shailiha asked.

―For this to become possible, the Tome states that several things must first be accomplished,‖

Wigg replied. ―Things that the Directorate never believed could be arranged. First, the mines at Ilendium must be opened, and the black marble taken from them. Second, at least one being of truly immense power—one who could oversee both the building and the empowering of the Gates—needs to walk the earth and be under the Heretics‘ control. No such power of that magnitude has ever before been known to exist. And third, there needs to be a catalyst, an empowering substance if you will, that would be used to energize the Gates.

Faegan and I now believe that substance to be endowed blood.‖

―What would happen then?‖ Tristan asked.

―First the Gates must be built,‖ Wigg answered. ―And then, at dawn, they are empowered with the blood of the endowed, combined with the inherent energy of the being responsible for the process. The Tome states that once energized, the azure of the marble returns to its previous state—that is, the blood of the Heretics. The details of all of this are still very unclear to us, but apparently the Heretics will be drawn to this empowerment of their blood, and then somehow be able to descend from the heavens. Their spirits would then pass through the Gates, regaining their bodies, rejoining the world of the living in the same powerful, fully human forms they enjoyed before perishing in their struggle with the Ones.

But this time they would be alone on the earth, without the Ones to oppose them.‖ He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. ―The Guild of the Heretics are the true masters of the Vagaries, Tristan,‖ the wizard said, lowering his voice. ―This rebellious offshoot of the original harnessers and employers of the craft would make the comparatively limited abilities of the Coven seem as mere child‘s play.‖

―One other fact has become abundantly clear,‖ Faegan said. ―Ragnar is obviously not the being who has been chosen to oversee this great venture. He is a pawn in the game, rather than the king he would like us to think he is. His powers do not in any fashion possess the dynamism required to perform such a thing. There is someone else, at least one such person, who will be responsible for performing all of the more infinitely difficult aspects of the process.‖

―The same being creating the amazing glow Wigg and I witnessed in the Caves,‖ Tristan said softly. ―The power to which I felt so curiously drawn. Now I understand.‖

―Yes,‖ Wigg said. ―It was the plan of the Heretics to leave behind their blood, hoping for a practitioner to eventually come who was strong enough to aid them in their return. Just as it was the hope of the Ones to leave behind the stone and the Tome, so that the compassionate side of the craft might flourish. Faegan and I now believe we may also have the answers to some of the other things that have been troubling us so,‖ he added.

―Such as?‖ Tristan asked.

―For one, if it is indeed true that someone is attempting to construct the Gates, the killing of the citizens of Ilendium seems a logical if brutal first step. They would have been in the way.

And this being may have a specific use for the city. It might better serve his purposes if it were abandoned, perhaps even destroyed. In addition, the wanted posters of you that have been scattered around the countryside, blaming you for the ‗murder‘ of your father, now seem to fit, also.‖

―Why?‖ Shailiha asked. Morganna whimpered. Smiling down at her, Shailiha stroked the baby‘s soft cheek and then adjusted the sling a bit. Morganna began to quiet.

―We had first postulated that the posters were a result of our enemies wanting to keep Tristan in hiding so that he could not rally the citizens against them,‖ Wigg went on. ―This was only partially correct. No citizen army in the universe could combat what we are facing. Scrounge put the posters up and offered the reward for a different purpose. To keep Tristan safe.‖

Shailiha furrowed her brow in frustration. ―But they are our enemies, are they not?‖ she asked. ―Why would they want to keep him safe? And how does making the entire nation want to capture him accomplish that?‖

It was then that Tristan suddenly understood. ―They wanted me safe so that nothing would befall me before they were able to take my blood,‖ he replied softly. ―Keeping me here, among the wizards, was the best way to accomplish that. The posters and reward were intended to drive me underground. And they worked.‖ He looked up to Faegan, the muscles in his jaw tense. ―That is why they wanted my blood, isn‘t it?‖ he asked slowly. ―It is my azure blood that they plan to use to empower the Gates of Dawn.‖

Faegan nodded. ―Yes,‖ he answered. ―Right now that makes the most sense. As I said, the Tome states that they will not only require the talents of a great adept, but also an

‗energizing‘ agent. Wigg and I now believe that agent is to be your blood—the finest ever known. In fact, it is most probably the only substance in the world that could accomplish such a thing. We have long known that if your blood is employed correctly, not even the waters of the Caves would be as potent.‖ The room went silent for a moment. Shailiha placed her hand over her brother‘s.

―But then why blind Wigg and poison my blood?‖ Tristan asked. ―Why bother, if they already had what they wanted?‖

―As far as blinding me is concerned,‖ Wigg answered, ―you must remember that Ragnar hates me with a passion that is virtually unequaled. Blinding me was a simple act of revenge.

But as for why your blood was poisoned, we really have no answer. Only time will tell.‖

―And time is quickly running out,‖ Tristan said darkly.

―The taking of the consuls,‖ Shailiha said. ―What of that?‖

―The consuls must be helping them to mine the stone, for they shall need a great deal of it,‖

Wigg answered. ―And using the craft to get at it would be the most efficient way. It is the only answer that makes any sense. The black-and-azure marble is the hardest in the world, and is virtually impervious to ordinary, unendowed mining techniques. But of greater interest is how this being is able to control so many of the consuls at once. His or her power must be virtually without limits.‖

―And where did this creature come from?‖ Tristan asked.

―In that, as with so many other questions, we have no answers,‖ Faegan said, his usually mischievous voice full of frustration.

―This is also why the Paragon is being drained,‖ Wigg said. ―The combination of all of the power of the stone poured into a single being, coupled with Tristan‘s raw, untrained blood will make for an event of unparalleled proportions.‖

―We also have no rationale for their raid on Fledgling House,‖ Faegan added. ―No doubt by now they have collected all of the children of the consuls—both the boys and the girls. But to what ends this was accomplished we do not know.‖

―And they let us have the Tome,‖ Tristan said, looking over his shoulder to the book. ―Yet another mystery.‖

―You mentioned the Art of Transposition,‖ Shailiha suddenly said. ―Is it this spell that allows the Heretics to return?‖

―In a manner of speaking, yes,‖ Faegan said. ―But it is far more complicated than that. The Art of Transposition is the method by which one substance is converted to another, such as attempting to turn dirt into gold. After centuries of trying, even the combined efforts of the Directorate failed to unravel the calculations required.‖

―But I have often seen you conjure things out of the air,‖ Tristan countered. ―Isn‘t that the same thing?‖

―Indeed it is not,‖ Wigg replied. ―At first glance one would suppose that creating something out of nothing would be far more difficult than the mere changing of one thing into another.

But in fact, the exact opposite is true. Without going into detail, suffice it to say that it has to do with overcoming the strength of an object‘s present existence, rather than overcoming the relative weakness of nothingness. Do you see? When the Art of Transposition causes the veins of the marble to revert back to the blood of the Heretics, this shall be an example of the craft that will have no previous equal in its complexity. It shall be something never before seen upon the earth.‖ The wizard thought to himself for a moment. ―Or, should I say, at least since the discovery of the stone and the Tome, and the enlightenment of the wizards. It is yet more proof of the hugely advanced abilities of those who were here before us.‖

―Why can‘t the Ones do the same thing?‖ Shailiha asked.

―I beg your pardon?‖ asked Faegan.

―Why can‘t they do the same thing? Why can‘t the Ones also return?‖

―We do not know that they can‘t, but to our knowledge they never have,‖ he answered. ―We have long theorized that the act of returning from the Afterlife would require a connection to at least one part of the departed ones‘ bodies—something of them that had been left behind upon the earth, with which to once again bond. The Heretics, of course, were somehow wise enough to leave behind a portion of their blood, encasing it for safety within the marble at Ilendium. Logic dictates that they must have accomplished this before the great cataclysm of their times. But as for the Ones, they must have left nothing of their bodies behind.‖

―Nothing that we know of,‖ Wigg countered.

Faegan raised his eyebrows. ―Quite right,‖ he added. ―Nothing that we know of. In addition, this method of return from the Afterlife is presumably an act of the Vagaries, and therefore something that the Ones would not allow themselves to do. At least not in this exact way.‖

Tristan suddenly remembered something. ―In your first quote you recited the words ‗among the other instruments of the craft,‘ ‖ he said eagerly. ―Is it possible that there are other things still to be found? More artifacts that may also have the power and importance of the stone and the Tome?‖

―There may indeed by such things still within the earth, carrying secrets and power we could only dream of,‖ Wigg answered. ―But no such additional treasures have ever been discovered. Still, the prospect continues to exist. Tantalizing, wouldn‘t you agree? To that end, many parties of wizards and consuls have searched Eutracia over the years, looking for the remains of the One‘s civilization. It was felt that if we could discover the ruins of their cities, much would be revealed. But nothing ever came of it, and the prospect was abandoned.

It was as if the Ones and the Heretics vanished into thin air.‖

Tristan slumped down in his chair, fatigued and stunned by all he had heard. He shook his head back and forth slowly. There seems to be no end to the secrets of the wizards. And despite all that they seem to know, they tell us that the total sum of their knowledge is only a smattering of those who were here before us.

―What we do not know is who, ‖ Tristan whispered to himself, so softly that the others at the table could scarcely hear him.

―What did you say?‖ Shailiha asked. Morganna had begun to fuss again, and Shailiha adjusted her clothing to nurse the baby. Her brother smiled at the two of them, and then his face turned serious again.

―What we do not know is the identity of the being Wigg and Faegan describe,‖ he said.

―Until that is uncovered, I fear we may never solve the rest of the riddle lying before us.‖ He paused for a moment, looking around the table. ―It is now more clear than ever that I must go to Parthalon. If the Paragon continues to decay and the wizards lose their powers before we find a way out of all this, the warriors may be the only means we have to help control the situation.‖

Faegan sighed resignedly, placing either hand into the opposite sleeve of his robe. ―At first Wigg and I were skeptical about that,‖ he said slowly. ―We would have preferred to keep you here, so that you could at least begin your training and also read the Prophecies to us. But now things have changed markedly, and we are forced to agree with you. Frankly, we see little other hope for us. Whoever is controlling these events has planned exceedingly well, and we have been bested at every turn. But if the Minions come here, quickly enough and in numbers sufficient enough to matter, we may have a chance against Scrounge, his hatchlings, and those insects that were used in Ilendium. That would be a start. But as for stopping the return of the Heretics . . . Well, that is a different problem, for it is of the craft. Wigg and I must work ceaselessly on it.‖ He turned his gray-green eyes to the prince, giving him a hard look. ―But before you go,‖ he said sternly, ―there is something we must ask of you. Actually, it is more of a demand.‖

―I‘m listening,‖ Tristan said, folding his arms across the worn leather of his vest. He had long ago made up his mind to go, and he didn‘t like demands, especially when they came from the wizards. Even as a child, he had always hated constraints of any type placed upon his movements. The look in his dark blue eyes told Faegan that whatever it was they wanted him to swallow, it would not go down easily.

―We‘re assigning you a bodyguard,‖ Faegan said simply. ―At least until such time as you may be healed from the poison that runs through your veins.‖

―A bodyguard!‖ Tristan exclaimed. ―Absolutely not! I am entirely capable of taking care of myself!‖

―Under normal conditions, perhaps,‖ Faegan said sternly. ―But current conditions are far from normal. First of all you are ill. Another convulsion is certain to befall you, and probably soon. When that occurs, you will need help. In addition, suppose when you reach Parthalon things have changed? True, Traax agreed to accept Geldon‘s orders. But for all we know he could have been only giving us lip service, waiting for your unsuspecting return to take your head, laying claim to your position.‖

―Even if that were true,‖ Tristan countered, ―there would be little two of us could do against such numbers.‖ Fully realizing that the wily wizards had already chosen someone to be his bodyguard he paused for a moment, thinking. ―And just who is it that you two brilliant mystics would send with me to defend my honor, eh?‖ he asked sarcastically.

―Ox,‖ Wigg answered calmly from across the table.

“Ox!” Tristan exclaimed. ―Can‘t you send Joshua with me? At least he is of the craft.

Compared to a consul of the Redoubt, what possible good can a Minion warrior do me?‖

―Hear us out,‖ Wigg said calmly. ―We have our reasons. I am blind, and of little use to you.

Faegan remains trapped in his chair. We considered sending Joshua, but the sad truth is we now need him here, to help with our research. He is the only other person trained in the craft, as far as we know, who is free to help us. Besides, we think that with Ox at your side the Minions will come to feel that you respect them. They will surely know that as the Chosen One you could have traveled with anyone you like, but instead chose to be with one of their own.‖ Wigg pursed his lips ironically. ―Even though that really isn‘t true,‖ he added drily.

Out of the corner of his eye Tristan thought he caught a quick smile on Shailiha‘s lips. ―And if I refuse?‖ he asked.

―You‘re forgetting something, my young friend,‖ Faegan said with a wink.

―And that is?‖

―You want to go to Parthalon, and I am the only one capable of opening and closing the portal.‖ He grinned impishly. ―That is, of course, unless you would like to do it without my services, and brave the Sea of Whispers alone.‖

Tristan laughed—a resigned sort of snort. They had him, and he knew it.

―If not for the wizards, then do it for me,‖ Shailiha said seriously. She reached out with her free hand and gently touched the gold medallion around his neck. ―You and Morganna are all I have left of my family.‖

She always did know how to get to me, he thought to himself.

―Very well,‖ he said grudgingly. ―I accept.‖

―When you arrive, you must be exceedingly careful in how you handle things,‖ Wigg said.

―First and foremost, you must convince the Minions to come to Eutracia under your leadership, and go to war with the hatchlings. Second, should you feel a convulsion coming on, it is vitally important that you do not let any of the Minions see it. You are their lord, having risen to that position by virtue of a fight to the death with Kluge. They expect strength and decisiveness from you, not weakness.‖

―Very well,‖ Tristan answered. ―I will do my best.‖

At that there came a knock on the door. It opened to reveal Geldon holding a shopworn straw basket that was soaked with blood.

―What is it, Geldon?‖ Tristan asked urgently. ―What do you have there?‖

The hunchbacked dwarf walked into the room, carefully holding the basket away from his short, bent-over body as if it were filled with venomous snakes. ―I found this when returning to the Redoubt. It had been placed at the foot of one of the revolving boulders.‖ He paused for a moment, tentatively looking around the table. ―I took the chance to look inside, and now I wish I hadn‘t,‖ he said distastefully. ―It isn‘t pretty.‖

―Please place it on the table,‖ Faegan ordered. Geldon did so. The stench of the blood clotted between the strands of straw caused Wigg to gasp. Shailiha looked as though she might be ill.

―What‘s in there?‖ Tristan asked anxiously.

Geldon looked around, not wanting to upset those gathered any more than he had to. But there was no other way to say it. ―It contains a human head,‖ he said softly. ―And there is another parchment scroll. I believe it is meant for the prince.‖

Tristan looked quickly to Faegan. At the wizard‘s nod he carefully opened the basket, withdrawing the head by the hair and placing it on the tabletop.

The victim had been fairly elderly, with gray hair and a rather long beard. The face was smudged and very dirty, covered with a strange kind of black soot. The head had been severed cleanly. Blank, emotionless eyes stared hauntingly out at nothing. Faegan raised one hand in the direction of the head, and the eyes gently closed for the final time.

Tristan immediately recognized Scrounge‘s miniature arrow embedded in the forehead, and saw the scroll. He carefully removed the scroll from the length of the shaft, untying the ribbon and unrolling the parchment. His eyes tore down the page, eager to read the message.

But he couldn‘t.

It was written in blood, just as the others had been, but neither the handwriting nor the language was recognizable. This was not Eutracian as Tristan knew it. It was written in a very flowing, beautiful style, the odd-looking symbols completely unintelligible to him. Then he realized he had seen this form of writing before. It had been in the Caves of the Paragon. He had also seen it in various places within the Redoubt of the Directorate, primarily over doorways that were almost always closed. Puzzled, he laid the parchment flat upon the table.

Faegan pointed to the scroll and caused it to flatten out, keeping it in place.

―What is it?‖ Wigg asked.

―Another scroll,‖ Faegan answered. ―But this one is different. This one is written in Old Eutracian.

―In case the two of you are bewildered,‖ Faegan said to the prince and princess, ―Old Eutracian is the ancient language of our nation. It is the dialect spoken and written by the Ones, and therefore presumably by the Heretics as well.‖

―Is it written in blood?‖ Wigg asked.

―Yes,‖ Faegan answered. ―In that way it is like the others.‖ He rubbed his hand across the dirty face of the head and then held his fingertips high, examining the black dust he had collected upon them. He blew on his hand, and the soot flew into the air. As it drifted harmlessly to the floor it caught the light, and to Tristan‘s eyes it appeared to have a bluish cast intermixed with the black. Faegan cast a knowing glance to the table at large. ―This man was most probably a consul,‖ he added.

―How do you know that?‖ Shailiha asked.

Faegan held his dirty palm up to the table. ―This is marble dust from the quarries of Ilendium.

I would bet my life upon it. It also contains traces of azure, meaning that they are indeed mining the forbidden black marble—and almost certainly using the consuls to do it. Just as we surmised.‖

―Aren‘t you going to ask me about the language?‖ Wigg said in the direction of the prince.

Despite both his infirmity and the darkness of their situation, the lead wizard had a short smile on his face.

―Ask what about it?‖ Tristan said blankly.

―How did you learn Old Eutracian?‖ Shailiha asked.

―Well done, Princess.‖ Wigg smiled. ―Please continue.‖

―If all of the Ones and the Heretics are dead, then who taught you to understand their language?‖ she asked.

―Think about it for a moment,‖ Wigg said. ―The answer to your question is before you, in this very room.‖

Tristan looked around at the vast, rather dark room, carefully observing the seemingly endless floors with their stack of books, and the entryway to the Vault of Scrolls that lay within the far wall. Perhaps the answer is to be found within one of the books or scrolls, he thought. He also saw the white, leather-bound Tome. And then something began to pull at his mind. Rubbing his brow with his fingertips, he thought for a moment. Of course! he finally realized.

―The Tome is written in Old Eutracian,‖ he said softly, almost to himself. He thought again for a moment. ―In the early days of its discovery it was unreadable, written in a language that was completely foreign to you. But after Faegan‘s daughter, Emily, the first to wear the stone and read the Tome, led the way with her first translation, you worked to unravel the Old Eutracian symbols.‖

―Very good!‖ Faegan pointed a long, bony finger at the prince and barked a cackle. ―Emily was also able to read the language aloud in its original form—allowing us to learn how to speak it as well as read it. All the consuls and wizards have learned it, and we speak it among ourselves when the topic is particularly secret.‖

Tristan looked back down at the scroll, his mind alive with questions. ―Would you please read it?‖ he asked Faegan.

―Of course,‖ the crippled wizard answered. ―I will first read it aloud in Old Eutracian, so you may hear what it sounds like. I shall then translate it for you.‖

Faegan looked down at the scroll, measuring the import of the words he saw there. It had been almost three centuries since he had read any ancient text, but the words came back to him as surely as if it had been yesterday. As he began to read aloud, Tristan found the language mellifluous and soothing. But as Faegan continued to read the scroll, Tristan was disturbed to see that the wizard‘s face darkened further with every word.

Faegan sat back in his chair, seemingly stunned. Wigg also seemed overtaken. ―Please,‖

Tristan urged anxiously. ―Translate it for me.‖

―Very well,‖ Faegan replied.

“I am the power behind the glow, and I am the one you seek. I am also he who has caused the wailing and torment of your nation. Have you not felt yourself drawn to me? Have you not already seen my face? There is much for us to discuss, Chosen One. I am in the Caves. Come to me tonight. Come and much shall be revealed. Leave your wizards behind in their useless pursuit of the answers. For their inferior, unenlightened gifts are useless to beings such as we. Come alone.”

After a period of intense silence, Wigg finally spoke. ―This is obviously not the work of Scrounge,‖ he said quietly. ―I am not even sure whether Ragnar, in his madness, could have written this.‖

―I agree,‖ Faegan replied. ―But now we must decide whether Tristan is to do this thing, especially without protection.‖

―I have seen him,‖ Tristan said suddenly. His face was a blank, his eyes staring out at nothing.

“What?” Faegan exclaimed. ―Why didn‘t you tell us?‖

―I have seen him,‖ Tristan repeated. He finally turned his eyes to the wizards. ―At the beginning of my first convulsion, I saw a face that I was inexplicably drawn to. It was a dark-haired male. And he was quite young, little more than a boy. Just before I blacked out I remembered thinking that he reminded me of someone, but I couldn‘t place who. I dismissed it, thinking it was a hallucination. But now I know better.‖ He paused, his breathing starting to visibly quicken. ―Now that I have seen the scroll and remember the vision, I can literally feel his presence in my blood. It is almost as if his heart beats in time with mine . . . the same feeling that overcame me when I saw the glow sweeping across the floor in Ragnar‘s chambers.‖ He paused for a moment. ―But how could a mere boy be responsible for all of these wondrous, terrible acts of the craft?‖ he asked.

―Have you seen this face since?‖ Faegan asked urgently.

―No,‖ Tristan answered, shaking his head.

Despite the lifeless nature of his eyes, Wigg‘s face said much. Faegan, too, appeared as if something monumental had just occurred.

―I think you should go,‖ Wigg said flatly from the other side of the table. ―And you should go tonight, alone, just as the note asks.‖

―I agree,‖ Faegan replied.

―Are you both mad?‖ Shailiha exclaimed. She grasped her brother‘s hand, as if doing so could somehow keep him by her side forever.

Morganna seemed to sense her mother‘s agitation, and her little eyes went wide. The princess was angry, and it showed.

―Have you forgotten what happened the last time?‖ Shailiha continued. ―He is mortally ill because of that visit! How do you know something worse won‘t happen this time? How could you possibly let him do such a thing?‖

Wigg and Faegan remained quiet for a time, letting the princess‘ emotions calm. Finally Wigg said, ―If those in the Caves had wanted us dead, we would be already, Shailiha. And I believe that if Tristan can use this opportunity to discover anything about this being, anything at all, he must do so. Not only for our sake, but also for the craft and the nation.‖

―I agree,‖ Tristan said, giving his sister‘s hand an affectionate, reassuring squeeze. ―I must go now, before my trip to Parthalon. Surely you can see that. If I can bring back anything that might be of help to the wizards, they can be researching it while I am meeting with the Minions.‖ He smiled, trying to help her mood. ―And in case you haven‘t noticed,‖ he added,

―we‘re losing this battle.‖

―But what about Ox?‖ she asked, knowing she was losing the argument. ―The wizards said you should have a bodyguard. Shouldn‘t he go too?‖

―Not this time,‖ Tristan answered. He looked to the wizards to see that they were both nodding in silent agreement. ―The being responsible for the scroll said to come alone. And that is what I shall do.‖

Shailiha lowered her head in frustration. ―Why must you always be so eager?‖ she whispered to her brother.

Tristan placed a finger under her chin, raising her face, then smiled at her. ―I take after you, Shai. You were born eight minutes before me, remember?‖

She said nothing for several moments, searching his face as if trying to make sure she could keep it locked in her memories. ―When will you leave?‖ she asked quietly.

Tristan looked to Faegan and said, ―Within the hour.‖

Faegan closed his eyes, nodding approval.

Shailiha had seen her brother leave for the Caves once before. But that time he had been with Wigg, and despite her misgivings she had felt relatively sure they would return. But this time was different.

This time her heart told her she would never see her brother again.