Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

"Yes, I remember now," Faegan said to himself as he reached back into his amazing memory. "There is such a command in the Tome. But as far as I knew, it had never been carried out."

He leaned back in his wheeled chair, thinking further. "Sanctuary must be the sacred place from which the Chosen One finally combines the two sides of the craft," he finally exclaimed. He trained his gray-green eyes on Wigg. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Faegan's words suddenly, painfully reminded Tristan of the fact that the wizards still refused to train him in the craft or allow him to wear the Paragon, because of the unknown nature of his azure blood. He thought of the savage whipping he had suffered, and how the strangely colored blood dripping down onto the filthy deck had caused fear and distrust among the other slaves.

"I believe you are," Wigg told Faegan. "But as yet, there is no way to validate this hypothesis. Now, given what we have learned here today, where does this knowledge lead us?" He sat back in his chair, patiently awaiting the answer.

Silence reigned again until Morganna, tired of her toys, fussed for Shailiha to pick her up. As Shailiha lifted her daughter into her arms she grasped the implications of Wigg's riddle.

"Krassus' fortress," she said, so softly that the others could barely hear. "It is meant to be the direct antithesis of Sanctuary, isn't it? The secret asylum of the Vagaries. The place from which the Heretics of the Guild mean to have their servants stop us from attempting to combine the two sides of the craft." She hugged Morganna closer to her chest in a protective embrace.

"The Citadel," Tristan breathed to himself.

"What?" Wigg asked curiously.

"The Citadel," Tristan repeated. "That's what it is called. We know this because Scars was able to force it from one of Tyranny's captured demonslavers."

"Yes, of course," Faegan said to himself. "I understand now. Sanctuary-a sacred place of the Vigors, where Tristan's process of combining the two opposing arts might go forward in peace. And the Citadel-an equally sacred place of the Vagaries-a place of darkness, from which the process shall be killed."

"Indeed," Wigg replied. "And now Wulfgar and the Scroll of the Vagaries presumably reside there, both of them under Krassus' control. If all that we have just deduced is in fact true, it now seems that the crisis before us is of even greater magnitude than we first thought."

Tristan looked back down at the piece of vellum he had risked life and limb to bring home. "We have to find the Scroll of the Vigors," he said thoughtfully. "It seems the only chance we have of unraveling what this is all about." He looked tiredly over at the herbmistress. "Can you really use your gifts to find it?" he asked her.

"If the sample you brought back is genuine, then yes, we have a chance," she answered. "But it will not be simple, and it will require all of my powers to accomplish."

Turning to Wigg, she placed one of her hands over his. "But I'm tired, and I need to rest before I try." She rubbed her brow. "If you like, we could all reassemble at midday, in the courtyard. Then we shall see what we shall see."

"And what about the herbs you said Abbey needs?" Tristan asked Faegan. "Have they been separated again? Will they work this time, or blow us all sky high?"

His fatigue also beginning to show, Faegan closed his eyes and shook his head. "The plants and roots Wigg and I brought back from the Chambers of Penitence finally dried out, and we were able to use them to separate and categorize my other stores," he answered. "It was a long, amazing process to behold. But whether they will work properly is still anybody's guess. I suppose at midday, we'll find out."

Wigg stood. "Then I suggest we all try to get some rest. It seems that in a few hours, we may need it."

Testing the sleepy muscles in his legs, Tristan also stood. He felt as if he had been awake his entire lifetime. After retrieving his weapons from the back of his chair, he walked over to Shailiha and Celeste and gave them each a kiss.

"It's good to have you home," Celeste whispered into his ear. "And when you have the time, there is something I would like to tell you." She hugged him again and held him close, as if never wanting to let him go. The myrrh in her hair drifted up to him, reminding him of so much he had thought he might lose forever.

"It's good to be back," he answered her sleepily. "You'll send someone to wake me?"

Smiling at him, Celeste nodded.

He walked to the door, turned to smile at them all again, then gratefully left the room, his dreggan and throwing knives draped loosely over one shoulder. The serpentine hallways of the palace yawned back at him as he went. The heels of his knee boots rang out sharply, reminding him of how lonely life could sometimes be in this massive, overpowering place. And of how many people had once constantly come and gone through these beautiful halls, and of how relatively few did now. From time to time he would come across a lone Minion sentry, silently standing guard at one of the many hallway intersections. Each sentry bowed and snapped his heels together as Tristan passed, but it was all he could do to nod back in return. Finally he found himself back at his own quarters.

Dropping his weapons into a nearby chair, he pulled off his clothes and tossed them aside. Then he walked to the open stained-glass windows and looked out for a moment. The first rays of dawn were finally scratching their way up over the horizon, and the birds had begun to sing. Smoke rose lazily from the Minion campfires, curling its way into the sky. Finally closing the windows, he drew the heavy, red velvet draperies across them.

Naked, he slipped in between the cool, silk sheets of his bed. Paradise, he thought.

In mere moments, the Chosen One was fast asleep.

Fifty-four

"C ome with me, my love," Wulfgar said to his queen. "There is still more I wish you to see."

Dawn had broken over the Citadel several hours earlier, bringing with it the promise of a fine day. The sea was high again, and the white sails of the constantly patrolling warships dotted the ocean like so many floating daisy petals.

After sharing their evening meal with Krassus the previous night, both Wulfgar and Serena were now fully aware of all the details of their impending mission. As he walked alongside his queen, the new lord of the Citadel could feel his endowed blood almost sing with the promises such a venture held. And soon, very soon now, it could all begin.

Wulfgar led Serena across the magnificent gardens of the inner ward. As they passed down one of the many stone walkways, bees buzzed, birds sang, and the beautifully blooming flowers, trees, and shrubs filled the air with their scents. Finally reaching the western side of the compound, Wulfgar walked along the shaded portico lining the inner wall, then came to a stop before two imposing doors guarded by armed demonslavers. As he and Serena approached, the slavers bowed deeply. Calling upon the craft, Wulfgar caused the doors to open. He took his queen by the hand, and they walked in.

Serena had seen many wondrous things here at the Citadel, but none compared to the splendor that lay before her now. The room was huge, and its entire western side lay open from floor to ceiling to reveal both the sky above and the sea below. The floor was fashioned of dark green marble, shot through with swirls of the palest gray. A series of black columns rose from the floor, to support the rather low ceiling. In one corner of the room stood Krassus, in his blue-and-gray robe. Turning his thoughtful gaze from the sea, he bowed. Serena acknowledged his presence with a nod.

Then she heard the sounds of splashing water. Looking to her right, she saw several women of about her own age, naked except for the flowers in their hair, happily bathing in a descending series of ornate marble pools. The scented water splashed down from a wide, curved trough in the wall above.