Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

"I live to serve," he said.

Wigg looked back at Faegan, but knew he would win no reprieve from his old friend. Faegan glared back at him sternly and nodded. His mind finally made up, Wigg turned back to the obediently waiting warrior.

"Bring the Jin'Sai and my daughter here at once," he said simply.

The warrior clicked his heels again and promptly left in search of the prince.

Wigg walked sadly back to the table, sat down heavily next to Faegan, and waited in silence.

Sixty-five

W hen the strong, familiar knock came on the door, Wigg stiffened. Looking over at Faegan, he took a deep breath, then glanced back toward the doors again.

"Enter," he said simply.

The prince and Celeste walked in. For some unknown reason, Tristan seemed especially eager to see them. Removing his weapons from his shoulder, he slung them over the back of one of the chairs and took a place next to Wigg's daughter at the table.

Taking a deep breath, Wigg looked over at them. "I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. "We need to speak with you. There is something I must-"

"And I need to speak to you," Tristan interrupted excitedly. "Had you not asked for me, I would have sought you out myself."

"What is it?" Wigg asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I have an idea," Tristan answered quickly. "And I'm afraid that whatever you wanted to say will have to wait for the moment. What I have to tell you is vitally important. But first, please tell me-have the two of you found any possible way to stop Wulfgar?"

Sitting back in his chair, Wigg raised his eyebrow. "No," he said. "And time grows short."

Reaching into a pocket of his trousers, Tristan took something out. He gently placed it on the table. "This may be our answer," he said softly. "I was reminded of it yesterday, during our meeting on the balcony."

Faegan looked at the item on the table, then back over at the prince. "Of course we recognize it," he said, as he stroked Nicodemus. "But I still do not understand what you have in mind."

"You told us yesterday that the orbs cannot be coaxed out over the sea. And also that if we could keep Wulfgar's fleet of demonslavers from reaching the coast, we would have a much better chance of stopping him from destroying the Orb of the Vigors, correct?"

"Yes, that's true," Wigg answered, his curiosity growing. "But what are you driving at?"

For more than the next half hour, Tristan explained to Wigg, Faegan, and Celeste exactly what he wanted to do, and how he would do it. As he spoke, the wizards could hear the optimism rising in his voice. When he was done, the two mystics sat back in silence as they considered his plan. Long moments ticked by as the prince awaited their opinions.

"I'll admit that it has its merits," Faegan finally answered. Tristan could see the wheels turning in the old wizard's head. "But the logistics and execution would be daunting, to say the least. The timing would have to be perfect, and your idea carries with it absolutely no guarantee of success. Still, it's the best plan I have seen so far." He smiled at the prince. "Frankly, I'm impressed."

"I agree," Wigg said. "But tell me, does anyone outside of this room know of your idea?"

"No."

"Good," the lead wizard said adamantly. "Keep it that way. And leave what you brought here with us. We will consider your plan, and let you know if it is viable."

"If that's what you feel you must do, then so be it," Tristan countered. "But you'd best hurry. The warning from the Minion scout ships could come at any time, whether you're ready or not."

Satisfied for the time being, Tristan crossed his arms over his leather vest. "Now then," he asked politely. "What was it you wished to tell us?"

As was his habit, Wigg placed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe. "There are two things, actually," he began. "And they both have to do with the Scroll of the Vigors."

Tristan and Celeste both looked over to where the scroll was hovering in the air. The azure glow of the craft flowed from it, and it was partially unrolled to reveal the elegant, flowing Old Eutracian words and symbols inscribed on it. Its golden center rod and end caps gleamed in the light.

"What about it?" Celeste asked.

"Do you remember Faegan and I telling you about something the watchwoman of the floating gardens mentioned to us? She called it the River of Thought."

Tristan's brow furrowed. "Yes, I do," he answered. "But frankly, I had forgotten. You said little of it."

"That's because at the time, there was very little to say," Faegan replied. "We wanted to be sure the calculations for it actually existed within the scroll. And we finally found them."

"And just what does this so-called River of Thought accomplish?" Tristan asked.

"Used properly, it can stir certain feelings or sensations in one or more endowed persons at the same time," Wigg replied. "Faegan imbued its Forestallment into my blood only this morning, and I just used it for the first time."

"To do what?" Celeste asked, her voice a whisper.

"To call home all of the acolytes of Fledgling House," he replied. "The Redoubt has been empty for far too long. It needs to be used for the reason it was built-the further training and safe harbor of those who have devoted their lives to go forth in our name and perform good deeds of the craft. As you both know, whatever consuls may still exist have been freed of their death enchantments, turned to the Vagaries, and taken to the Citadel. Sadly, they are now all subject to Wulfgar's control. But they are not the subjects of our efforts." Pausing for a moment, he looked into their surprised faces.

"Instead, we have employed the River of Thought to summon the acolytes here, to what will be their new home," he went on. "What better place to harbor these valuable souls during such troubled times than the depths of the Redoubt? Their mission will be to take the place of the consuls who have betrayed us." He looked sadly at Tristan.

"This was your mother's lifelong dream," he added softly. "Equality for women in the craft. Faegan and I wanted to call the acolytes home sooner, but until we learned of the River of Thought, there was no practical way of doing it. Now there is. We are about to make Morganna's vision for the future come true. The circle shall be complete again, for the first time in more than three centuries."

Tristan stared at the two wizards, then smiled broadly, happy beyond words that they had finally arrived at this crossroads in history. But then another thought came to him. "This is wonderful news," he told them. "Still, how will we know they are who they claim to be? Anyone can acquire a red robe. Couldn't there easily be traitors among them? This seems like a very dangerous time to be taking strangers into the palace."

"First, of course, they will all be women," Wigg answered, "the oldest of whom should be no more than thirty Seasons of New Life. And, as you point out, each of them should also be wearing the dark red, hooded robe of her station. But clearly, those things alone are not sufficient proof. We shall therefore also be checking their blood signatures against our records for final confirmation before any of them are shown the secrets of the Redoubt. We shall also check them for the presence of Forestallments, to see whether their blood has been tampered with. There should be none. But if any of the acolytes are found to posses them, those women will be segregated and held for questioning." Pausing for a moment, the lead wizard laced his long fingers together.

"Tristan, with your permission I want to order the Minions now stationed before the palace entrance to move their campsites immediately," he said. "I want them out of sight. I think we can safely assume that few of the acolytes have ever seen one of our winged friends before, and I don't want to scare the women away. Their hearts will already be filled with enough trepidation about what they are doing as it is. For all they know just now, they are breaking their vows simply by coming here. We can only hope that the River of Thought is strong enough to overcome those feelings in them and keep them continuing on the path home. They will be very conflicted when they arrive. They must feel welcome, and know that it was we who called them here."