But the most distressing problem—and the one that would have no resolution until Tristan’s group entered the Caves of the Paragon—was how to find the subterranean Azure Sea.
Tristan was the only Conclave member who had seen it, and sometimes even he wondered whether it had been real or some mad dream. Wigg had been with him at the time, but unconscious. It was on the sandy shores of that strange sea that Tristan and Wigg were scooped up and flown away by Nicholas’ hatchlings, only to be released by Nicholas after suffering cruelly at his hands. By that time Tristan had also lost consciousness, ensuring that neither he nor Wigg knew how far the hatchlings had carried them or how long it had taken. Even if they could find the sea again and restore the ships to their original size, they would be literally sailing into the unknown.
Will Shashida really lie on the other side? he wondered. And if so, how long might it take to reach it?
Just then a soft knock came on the double doors. Tristan walked over and opened them to see his sister standing there. Morganna stood by her side and Caprice floated lightly overhead.
Tristan smiled and beckoned them into the room. Shailiha looked radiant in a yellow gown, matching satin slippers, and a golden chain. The medallion lying against her bosom twinkled in the candlelight. Three-year-old Morganna looked adorable in a red dress fringed with white lace.
As Shailiha escorted Morganna into the room and Caprice obediently followed, the princess put on a brave smile. Tonight would be difficult for her and Tristan. They had seen the death of their parents, and each had lost a spouse whom they loved more than life. So far, the journey toward fulfilling their common destinies had been terribly costly. Without saying so, each understood that despite how much they had already endured, their struggle was far from over. And tomorrow they would part, perhaps forever.
“I thought you’d never come,” Tristan said as cheerfully as he could.
Shailiha’s eyes widened as she watched her ever-curious daughter walk toward the Black Ships. “Don’t touch!” she cautioned.
Morganna stopped and turned, her bright eyes still curious but respectful. “I won’t, Mamma,” she said. She quickly turned back again to look with that innocent, wide-eyed gaze that it seems only children can muster.
Tristan was soon reminded of how much Morganna was starting to resemble her late grandmother. The queen had been a remarkable woman, and she was many years ahead of her time. It had been she who had convinced the late Directorate of Wizards to break with more than three hundred years of tradition and again allow the teaching of the craft to females. This teaching had taken place at a secret castle called Fledgling House nestled at the base of the Tolenka Mountains. Some of those girls, and a group of specially selected sons of the Redoubt Consuls, now took their training in a similar school in the Redoubt.
Morganna will soon attend that school, Tristan thought. Then his smile faded as he remembered that he might never see that day. He looked back at his sister.
“Would you like some wine?” he asked.
Shailiha nodded vigorously. “After hearing the Conclave members bicker for two hours, I could use some!” she answered. She turned to look at her daughter. “Come, Morganna!” she said.
Shailiha escorted her daughter to the balcony and boosted Morganna into one of the chairs. As might be expected, Morganna’s eyes went straight for the cake icing. Before Shailiha realized it, the child had poked three of her fingers into it and shoved them straight into her waiting mouth. Her satisfied smile said it all.
Tristan laughed as he poured another glass of wine. “She takes after her mother,” he chided. “It seems that she’s developing your taste for sweets.”
Shailiha wiped Morganna’s mouth, then quickly moved the cake a safe distance from her daughter’s energetic fingers. “So you noticed, did you?” she asked. After fixing a proper plate and cutting the food for the child, the princess took her first sip of wine.
For a time Tristan and Shailiha ate Shawna’s delicious food in relative silence, with few sounds to accompany them aside from the night creatures and Caprice’s delicate wings fluttering overhead. They dawdled over their food, realizing that the meal provided a welcome reprieve from the conversation that would follow. But after finishing two slices of cake and several cups of tea, they both knew that the time had come.
Shailiha looked over to see that Morganna had fallen asleep in her chair. The princess carried her into Tristan’s bedroom and laid her on the bed. After moving Tristan’s weapons to a nearby sofa, she again joined her brother on the balcony. As he looked into her eyes he could see tears welling.
Leaning closer, Shailiha took his hands into hers. “Please be careful,” she said quietly. “I know that you must do this thing. More than once you have gone away only to return. But tomorrow might be very different. No one knows where the Azure Sea will take you or what you might have to face to get there. And we have only recently seen the coded message left by the Ones that tells us you are doing the right thing. That spell was likely written aeons ago—Wigg said so himself. What if it is no longer true? What if the Pon Q’tar is out there waiting for you instead? What if—”
Tristan gently placed his fingers against her lips. “There can be no more ‘what ifs,’” he said. “I’m going and that’s that. Of course I’ll do my best to return. But if I do not, you must be prepared to rule Eutracia. Value the advice of the remaining Conclave members, but make each decision your own. They’re not always right, you know.” Smiling again, he wiped away one of her tears.
“Besides,” he added, “as you said, they certainly like to bicker!”
“Yes,” Shailiha added, “especially Wigg and Faegan.”
Tristan reached out to take her medallion into his hand. “Don’t forget this,” he said reassuringly. “You can see me whenever you want. But remember—do not overuse the spell, and be sure that the medallion remains in your possession at all times. When Miriam charmed our medallions, she warned me of these things. Always keep them in mind.”
Tristan let the medallion fall back onto Shailiha’s chest. “Have the Viper Lord and his followers been sighted?” he asked.
Shailiha shook her head. “Even the Night Witch patrols cannot find them. It’s as if they dropped off the face of the earth. How can a force that large simply vanish?”
Tristan shook his head. “They might be using the craft to help them hide,” he offered. “But it would seem that even a wizard as powerful as the Viper Lord would eventually tire and reveal his position. I admit that it’s puzzling. When you find them, let Faegan help form your plan. But when it comes to the very real and dirty business of fighting, take your advice from Traax. You can rely on his judgment completely. In many ways I wish he was coming with me. But because only two phalanxes sail with my group, he will better serve us here.”
Deciding that the time had come to say goodbye, Tristan smiled at his sister as best he could. “If I don’t come back—”
“Don’t say that,” she insisted. “I just know that—”
Just then another knock came on the double doors. Wondering who it might be, Tristan rose from his chair.
“Enter,” he called out softly, trying not to wake Morganna.
The doors parted to reveal Aeolus standing there. Tristan beckoned him inside. After Aeolus paid his respects to the princess, Tristan bade him sit down. The mystic’s expression was serious.
“Forgive the intrusion, Jin’Sai, but I wanted to speak with you privately before you leave tomorrow,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Tristan asked.
Aeolus gave Tristan a weary smile. “Do you mean aside from Eutracia being overrun by beings of the Vagaries and you and half the Conclave sailing off into the unknown tomorrow?” he asked. “Truth be told, before you leave I want to talk to you about your gift of K’Shari.”
Suddenly the wizard’s expression darkened a bit. “If this is a private moment, I will gladly return later,” he added quietly.
Tri
stan smiled. “Whatever you would say to me you can say in Shai’s presence as well,” he answered. “There are no secrets between us.”
“Good,” Aeolus answered. He poured a glass of wine and took a discerning sip, then looked into Tristan’s eyes.
“I wish we had been able to train together longer,” he said. “Even so, I have come to understand that you are the real master and I the student. Always remember that your K’Shari will be stronger than mine because your blood is much more powerful. During your travels, should you need to call on your gift, you must be careful. Do not become overconfident, and take nothing for granted.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Before answering, Aeolus set his glass on the table. “The beings you might meet on the other side are presumably far more advanced than we—especially in the science of the craft,” he said. “Moreover, the forestallment formula that granted you K’Shari was found in one of the Scrolls. That means that they had the gift long before we did. If you must fight, always remember that your opponent might command K’Shari too—and to a higher degree and with greater experience than you possess. Furthermore, your gift is called forth automatically, while mine is not, and only your sword glows with the color of the craft. Despite many hours of searching for an answer, Wigg, Jessamay, and I still cannot explain it. You must trust in your gift, for that is all you can do. Do not fight the feeling when it comes over you, and let your actions flow through your body naturally. Only then might you defeat an enemy on the other side with equal talents.”
Tristan appreciated Aeolus’ advice. During the battle to retake the Recluse, fighting techniques both armed and unarmed had come to him unexpectedly and effortlessly, allowing him to do wondrous things. And his sword had indeed glowed with the color of the craft.
Later in Crysenium he had fought and defeated Xanthus, his first opponent who also commanded the gift of K’Shari. The battle had raged like some desperate war between two titans. Whenever Tristan’s dreggan or Xanthus’ axe missed its target and struck something else, they had utterly destroyed it. Tristan had never felt such power, and he had to admit that a part of him was eager to experience it again. But until now he had not considered the dangers that Aeolus was describing. Like Wigg and Faegan, sometimes Aeolus could make him feel very small.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t looked at it that way. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Aeolus answered. “And now I will take my leave.”
As the mystic stood, Tristan stood with him. “Please watch over my sister while I’m away,” the prince said. “I’m relying on you two to destroy the Viper Lord and his servants.”
Aeolus gave Tristan reassuring wink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered. After saying good night to Shailiha he let himself out, the doors closing quietly behind him.
Tristan continued to gaze at the closed doors for several moments, thinking.
“He’s a good man,” he finally said. “Despite what our mystics might say about the quality of your blood and mine, we’ll never fully appreciate everything they’ve gone through for the sake of the Vigors. Sometimes I have to force myself to remember that each of them is more than three centuries old.”
Shailiha looked back at Morganna to see that her daughter was still fast asleep. When she looked back at her brother, her expression was sad but resigned.
“It’s late and we should go,” she said. “Just promise me that you’ll return.”
Tristan stood, as did his sister. He gave her a short smile.
“Such a promise would be unfair,” he answered. “But I will do my best. In your absence make sure that Shawna looks after Morganna. You could never find a better nanny, despite how ornery she can be!”
Shailiha’s laugh sounded brittle and forced—as if she wanted to let go but couldn’t find it within her to do so. Grabbing the lapels of Tristan’s worn leather vest, she tugged on them and gave him a ferocious look.
“Just come back,” she ordered. “Don’t force me to come to Shashida and find you!”
The princess went to take Morganna into her arms, the child grumbling softly before settling back down into a deep sleep. On reaching the doors Shailiha gave her brother a final, lingering look, then she was gone. Sighing deeply, Tristan sat down again and sipped his wine.
Goodbye, my sister, he thought. May we each find what we’re searching for.
As it happened, he would not sleep that night, but sat on the balcony until dawn, lost in his thoughts.
III
MAGIC AND GOLD
CHAPTER XXIII
Given that the Jin’Sai cannot be easily killed, taking the life of the Jin’Saiou will do equally well.
—GRACCHUS JUNIUS
“I HAVE BEEN BID FIVE HUNDRED SESTERCES FOR THIS prime example of Shashidan pulchritude!” the slave auctioneer shouted. “Who will give me six? Come now—just look at her! Won’t some fine krithian give me six?”
When no one in the crowd responded, the auctioneer put on his best look of astonishment. It was a well-practiced deception, and one that had served him well over the years. The slave’s current owner had told him that six hundred was the least he would accept. The price was relatively high but not unreasonable for such attractive, untouched goods.
Trying to entice new bidders, the vulgar auctioneer smelled approvingly of the naked woman’s long dark hair, then pointed lasciviously to her ample breasts. As expected, the crowd drew nearer. Like hundreds of other slaves waiting to mount the block, she wore an unmarked beeswax plaque around her neck.
“Only twenty years old and still a virgin!” the auctioneer shouted. “And she has been bathed in scented oils! That alone is worth one hundred sesterces! Just think of the many skeen children this one will bear! Why, she’ll easily pay for herself ten times over! Come, now—who will give me six?”
“Six, then, you robber!” a red-robed krithian man shouted from the back of the crowd. “But I’ll not give you one sesterce more! And she’d best be as fertile as you say!”
The auctioneer smiled broadly. He had finally reached the minimum bid, and he could soon move on to hawk his remaining merchandise. He gave the young woman another leering look.
“Fear not!” he shouted back. “In my vast experience, the worst Shashidan slave girl I ever had was wonderful!” This time the crowd roared with laughter.
As Julia Idaeus passed by she looked up at the humiliated young woman standing on the block, then stared across the great forum. The huge plaza was busier than usual, partly because it was auction day. But it was more than that, she realized.
The announcement of Vespasian’s impending campaign had restored the public’s confidence. With that had come a renewed loosening of their purse strings and a slight surge in tax revenue. It was not enough to greatly help the treasury, but it was sufficient to convince the Suffragat that the final day of games should serve as a special celebration of Vespasian’s impending departure, to build yet more public confidence in final victory. After some discussion, the emperor had given his blessing.
Seating in the coliseum would be free, first come, first served. For once, krithians and hematites would intermingle at the games gladly, with no rancor over who could afford the best view. Much free food and wine would be given away, and an unusually high number of slaves and animals were to be sacrificed. This would be the greatest single spectacle ever held in the coliseum, and the excitement was already at a fever pitch. The celebration would occur in two more days, and hundreds of people were already standing and sleeping in long lines outside the coliseum, hoping to be among the first to claim a good seat.
As Julia regarded the trembling slave girl, she was glad for the white veil covering her face, for it kept the mob from noticing her sadness. Deciding not to linger, she held her leather valise closer and continued on her way down the broad forum. As she passed through the crowd, many of those not intent on watching the auction bowed reverently to her.
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Because of its massive size and great beauty, many Ellistiumites considered the forum to be their greatest achievement. At one end stood the Aedifficium, and far away at the opposite end could be found the emperor’s residence. The forum lay in the heart of the city, deep in the oblong valley created by the seven surrounding hills. Traveling across Ellistium was a long and complicated affair unless one traversed this bustling place and thereby added to the usual congestion.
Made of pure white marble, the massive rectangular plaza was surrounded by many public buildings, some of which towered several stories into the air. Among these were baths, a great library, and offices for such professionals as barristers, moneylenders, and land vendors. Other areas were devoted to cattle, vegetable, and fish markets. A gleaming colonnaded portico lay at the forum’s center, complete with covered walkways, eateries, and more shops of every description. From one end to the other, the forum measured more than half a league. Despite how often Julia ventured here, each time she revisited this place her sense of majesty was renewed. As she continued on toward her destination, today proved no exception.
Ellistiumites from all four classes bustled to and fro, giving her the impression that even the poorest of phrygians couldn’t wait to dispose of their hard-earned sesterces. As usual, everyone from highborn krithians traveling by personal litter to the lowest skeens being led to the auction block were present.
Some ladies carried parasols while they strolled about, and robed men eagerly gathered to discuss the events of the day. A marble tower stood at each corner of the forum, from which heralds shouted the latest news that few besides Julia knew to be heavily censored by the Suffragat. Food vendors cajoled with promises that his or her delicacies were the freshest and the cheapest. Proud horse traders displayed their animals before prospective buyers, magicians surprised and delighted the crowds, and ever-watchful centurions maintained order. The atmosphere was festive and carnival-like, and skeens were bought and sold here no differently than those same horses or the fine gold jewelry that adorned highborn krithian women.
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