Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

Wigg blushed, and the vein in his temple throbbed even harder. "You still do not know how to use your gift effectively!" he argued.

"Really?" Celeste asked. "I already used it once to save your life, didn't I?"

Wigg looked beseechingly at Faegan. "And what say you to this madness?" he asked.

Faegan smiled. "Actually, I say 'yes.' Abbey and I will send along a list of our needs to Lionel the Little, the caretaker at my mansion, along with a letter of permission from me to give what we need to the ladies. You will be bringing back only dried herbs, not fresh ones. If time permits, we may send you back for fresh herbs later."

"Why do you want only dried herbs?"

"With rare exceptions, herbs must be dried before they can be of use in the craft," Faegan answered. "And unlike the process used by ordinary cooks, the drying of herbs for magic can be long and meticulous in its stages-and our needs are immediate. In addition, dried herbs are far easier to mix. I'm sure once you reach Shadowood, Lionel will be happy to tell you more. He can be amazingly talkative."

For the first time in days, Shailiha grinned.

"Very well," Wigg said reluctantly. "But this little errand of yours should take no more than a single day. If the two of you do not come home on the appointed hour, I am coming to Shadowood myself to get you. Understood?"

Sighing, the lead wizard sat back in his chair and looked at the two women who had just bested him.

Fourteen

T he woman on Wulfgar's bed looked him up and down in his robe, her eyes filled with hate.

"I see you're already dressed for the occasion," she said nastily. "Just do whatever you want to me, and get it over with." Her voice was defiant.

Wulfgar looked at her. Despite the fact that her sea voyage had made her thin, she remained beautiful. Dark ringlets curled down over her breasts. Her taffeta gown-no doubt supplied by Janus-was stunning, and the yellow complemented her deep blue eyes. Given her situation, he might have expected her to cower before him. But she did not. Only anger showed. He immediately found himself respecting her for it, and wanting to know more about her.

"No harm will befall you here," he said quietly. "I'm a slave, just like you."

She let go a short, derisive laugh. "Don't lie to me, as well as abuse me." She looked briefly around the room and then shook her head. "No slave has quarters such as these."

Taking another step, Wulfgar pulled down the left shoulder of his robe. At first she recoiled, but then she saw the brand-the exact duplicate of her own. Her mouth dropped, and she began to relax a little.

"We may have to be slaves for them, but we don't have to be for one another," he added gently. He gestured to the silver table full of food. When he did so, her eyes greedily followed his.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked. "You look very hungry."

She nodded, but it was abundantly clear that she wasn't ready to trust him.

Sensing that she might feel less threatened out on the spacious balcony, Wulfgar walked over to the breakfast cart and pushed it out into the sun. Sitting down in one of the upholstered chairs, he gazed out over the ever-restless ocean.

"Come and eat," he said casually. "I promise not to harm you."

She stood tentatively and walked to the balcony. After a cautious look at him, she stared straight down over the balcony wall. Then she raised her eyes and looked out to the west, toward Eutracia, and tears began to form. For some time she stood still, the only movement the gentle swaying of her ringlets in the salty sea breeze.

"Please sit down," Wulfgar said. He fixed a generous plate of food and handed it to her. Before she had even sat down, she snatched it from him and then bent over her prize protectively, the way a starving animal might, tearing into it as though she hadn't eaten for a lifetime. Smiling slightly, Wulfgar waited. As she continued to look warily at him in between bites of cheese, warm rolls, and fruit, Wulfgar poured her a cup of tea. She took it from him greedily. Still trying to gain her trust, he smiled again.

"What is your name?" he asked. "Where are you from?"

"I am Serena," she answered cautiously. Another bite of roll went quickly into her waiting mouth. "Of the House of Winslow."

"Winslow?" Wulfgar asked. She nodded.

"From Farpoint?"

Another nod.

Uncrossing his legs, Wulfgar leaned forward in his chair and looked intently into her face. "Is your father by chance Simon Winslow, the animal healer?"

Surprised, she stopped chewing for a moment. "Yes," she answered. Then her eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"

"I know Simon well," he said, smiling. "We do business. His practice is on the west side of town, is it not? On Baylor Street. I take horses there whenever I am unable to cure them myself. Your father is very good at what he does-the best in the city, as far as I am concerned. My parents are Jason and Selene, of the House of Merrick."

Finally starting to believe, she stopped chewing and put her plate down for a moment. Her eyes searched his face. "The Merrick Stables?" she whispered incredulously.

"Yes," he answered. "I am their son, Wulfgar."

She relaxed a little. "My father has spoken often of you," she said. "He respects you and Jason greatly."

Wishing he could talk to her forever, a sudden, darker thought crossed Wulfgar's mind. Standing and walking from the balcony, he went into the bedroom to fetch the hourglass Janus had left behind. It was the only gauge he had to tell him when the painted freak and his monsters would return. When Serena saw it again, her face hardened.

"Why are we here?" she asked. "And how is it that you are being treated so differently from the rest of us?"

"I don't know," he answered. "They made a great fuss over me when they took my blood at the pier, and then I was immediately brought here. They are waiting for someone called Krassus to arrive. Apparently he will tell me more." He thought for a moment.

"Tell me," he said. "How much of this building have you seen? Did you notice any way out?"

"I'm sorry, but I saw no exits," she answered honestly. "And I viewed little, compared to the gigantic size of this place. I have heard some of the slavers refer to this structure as the 'Citadel.' All of us with this R'talis mark, the men and women alike, are kept in gigantic cages. They give us just enough food and water to keep us alive. New R'talis prisoners arrive every day. We have no idea where the people with the other kind of brand are being held, or even if they still live. Every morning Janus and his slavers come and take a different selection of us away. Those taken never return. It is all very strange."

Wulfgar looked at the hourglass. More than half of the contents of the top globe had already spilled down.

"What happened this morning?" he asked.

"Janus came to us early. I now know that it was to select one of the women for you," she said ashamedly. "But none of us knew that then. We thought that he was simply taking more of us away. When he chose me, I was terrified. He had me taken to other quarters, rather like these. This gown was laid out on the bed, and there was a room for bathing." Then her face lowered.

"He watched the entire time as I bathed myself and changed into this dress," she whispered. "All the while he was smiling, and clinking those strange spheres of his in one hand. It sent shivers down my spine. Then he and his slavers brought me here. Along the way I saw many dark hallways, lit by torches, and a very large, open courtyard. But most of the time was spent navigating stairways. The walk was very long, and hundreds of demonslavers filed by us in the halls. I also saw a few of the men in the dark blue robes. I can tell you that this place, this Citadel as they call it, is very well guarded."