Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

Tristan shook his head. Telling everyone his story would probably last well past sunrise. And he needed to hear of all that had transpired while he was gone, as well.

The Chamber of Supplication was the great hall in which Tristan's father and the late Directorate of Wizards had from time to time heard special, urgent requests from the populace. Sometimes, if the petition was worthy and within the wizards' ethical and magical purview to provide, it would be granted. The chamber was made of dark blue Ephyran marble. Patterned rugs adorned the floor, and light flooded the room from wall torches and the great oil-lamp chandelier that hung over the table.

When Wigg and Faegan had suggested this room in which to talk, Tristan had quickly agreed. He knew that the wizards would not want strangers poking about in the Redoubt below. And despite the fact that he trusted the pirate captain and her first mate implicitly, Tristan went along with the wizards' request.

Tristan's arrival by Minion litter had been joyous, to say the least. Upon reaching the coast, he had ordered K'jarr to fly ahead and tell everyone they were coming. As a result, every person in the palace had come running out to greet them at once, including as many Minions, male and female alike, as could wedge their way into the courtyard.

Being the first one out of the litter, Tristan had been immediately pounced upon by Shailiha and Celeste. Then Ox had taken him up in his great arms like a vise, hugging him tightly and lifting him high off his feet. As he did, the other warriors cheered. Tristan could scarcely breathe.

"Ox so glad to see Chosen One!" the huge warrior bellowed. "Ox worried!"

Geldon exited next, followed by Tyranny and Scars. When the sea captain and her first mate appeared, things became a bit awkward, to say the least.

First there had been the issue of Scars. Tristan had known for some time that he had earned the giant's grudging respect, and with that had come a certain attitude of protectiveness. When Scars saw Ox go for Tristan, his first instinct had been to free him. Caught in Ox's arms, Tristan had barely managed to wave Scars off.

But once Ox had put Tristan down, the two giants had begun menacingly sizing each other up. Not knowing what else to do, Tristan had impetuously stepped directly between them and made the necessary introductions. When both backed off, Tristan was greatly relieved. He could scarcely imagine the outcome had these two giants actually gone after each other.

And then Tyranny had stepped from the litter. Seeing her rather provocative striped pants and short, low-cut leather jacket; her dark, urchinlike hair flying every which way in the breeze; her gold hoops dangling from her ears; and her sword slung low down over one hip, Shailiha and Celeste raised skeptical eyebrows. Shailiha's mouth puckered slightly, and she gave her brother a quizzical, not altogether approving glance. Celeste simply crossed her arms over her breasts and began tapping the ground with one foot.

As Tyranny descended the litter, she coyly held out one hand for the prince to take, and he had no other choice but to do so. Immediately sensing Tristan's discomfort, she couldn't help but take advantage of it-presumably as payback for having made her ride in the litter, Tristan assumed.

Surmising that one of these two women-probably the redhead, she thought-must be the famous Celeste, Tyranny leaned over, gave Tristan a short kiss on the cheek, then linked her arm through his and smiled cattily at the two other women.

Later on, a grinning Wigg would tell Tristan that when all of this happened, the prince's face had become as red as the lead wizard had ever seen it. For his part, Faegan had simply covered his mouth with one hand and let go a quite unnecessary cough. After the rather stiff introductions had been made, they had all adjourned to the palace.

Now, his dreggan and throwing knives hooked over the back of his chair, Tristan told them everything. In between bites of food and cups of wine, he described in great detail his capture, his time rowing, and his meeting with Krassus and the herbmistress Grizelda. He went on to tell them of his rescue by Tyranny, the attack by the screechlings, their time on Sanctuary, and their fight with the pirate fleet only hours earlier. He also explained how he had marooned the raiders on Sanctuary rather than killing them, and that he had ordered a small contingent of Minion warships to stay behind to guard them.

He did not, however, demand answers from them regarding the mystery surrounding the existence of Sanctuary, for he realized that the two secretive wizards would not wish to discuss it in the presence of two relative strangers.

Wigg and Faegan listened to his story intently. They asked questions from time to time, but for the most part they remained still. When Tristan finally finished, the room went completely quiet, the only sound the purring of Nicodemus, Faegan's blue cat. It was Wigg who finally broke the silence.

"It seems we have much to thank you for, miss," he said, turning to Tyranny. "But tell us, why did you decide to go demonslaver hunting in the first place? It seems like a particularly dangerous occupation to take up, even for a person as capable as you appear to be."

Tyranny's face darkened. "They took my brother," she answered, "and killed my parents in the process. I escaped, and I have been searching for my brother ever since. My family name is Welborne, and we lived in Farpoint. My father ran a fleet of fishing vessels there. Scars and I know the Sea of Whispers as well as anyone alive." Then she looked over at Tristan, and a smile crossed her lips. "Besides," she added, "I am not so easily captured."

A look of recognition flashed over the lead wizard's face. "The Welbornes of Farpoint?" he said. "A very long time ago, I knew such a family. There was once a privateer, Isaac Welborne, who sailed in the service of the Directorate. But that was more than three hundred years ago, during the Sorceresses' War."

"Isaac Welborne was one of my ancestors," Tyranny said proudly. "My father used to love to tell the story of how, just after the end of the war, Isaac loaned his battered ship to the newly formed Directorate, so that they might use it to banish the sorceresses from Eutracia. The ship was a galleon named the Resolve. But that was a long time ago."

It might have simply been the retelling of the story, or it might have been due to the lead wizard's recent, heart-rending experiences in the Chamber of Penitence, but for whatever reason, Wigg's eyes grew shiny. He wiped them with the sleeve of his robe.

"Tyranny has brought you a pair of gifts," Tristan added softly. "She agreed with me that they probably belong here in the palace, where they could be protected."

He gave Geldon a nod, and the two of them left the room for a moment. When they returned, they were helping each other carry two rather unwieldy packages. Each was wrapped in bloody sailcloth and tied securely with ship's rope. They placed them on the table before Wigg, then sat down again.

The lead wizard raised an eyebrow. "What are they?"

"The only way you're going to know is by opening them," Tristan answered, a smile on his face. "As far as I know, even you and Faegan can't see through things."

From the other side of the table, Faegan gave one of his wry cackles. "Don't be so sure."

Wigg looked down at the crudely wrapped packages. He couldn't imagine what they might be. Nor could he remember the last time anyone had given him something, for that matter. Narrowing his eyes, he called on the craft. Almost immediately, the sailor's knots began to untie themselves. As they did, Tristan looked over at Tyranny and Scars to see that their eyes had become as big as saucers.

As the sailcloth was unwrapped, it revealed a worn ship's wheel-the one Tristan had ordered taken from The People's Revenge just before she went down. The other package contained the wooden-and-brass plaque that listed not only all the names of those who had commanded the Resolve, but also the various other vessels the wheel had been passed down to over the centuries by the Welborne family.