Gracchus steeled himself against her next words, for he now knew what she would say.
“What of his blood?” she asked. “We have been told that his blood will open many locked doors and remove many obstacles in his path, simply because of its majestic quality. As you know, this information was gleaned long ago from more than one highly placed Shashidan mystic whom we captured in battle and later tortured. The information was obtained many separate times over several centuries. Its veracity is irrefutable.”
Pausing for a moment, Cynthia gazed deeply into Gracchus’ eyes. As she did, he found the loss of her love far more defeating than anything else she might say.
“So tell us, Gracchus,” she said. “Might the Jin’Sai’s blood not guide him safely across the Azure Sea? Despite your reassurances, is there still not cause for great concern?”
“Perhaps,” he answered. “But you know as well as I that the information gleaned from those Shashidan mystics has never been tested. We have no way of knowing whether it is true. And after all, every one of our ships and crews that tried to cross that sea was never heard from again.”
A short smile crossed Cynthia’s lips. “In any event, because of your recent failures it seems we will soon have our answer,” she said. “And if the answer is the wrong one, all our plans for Vespasian might come to naught. You must judge the import of all that for yourself. I have already formed my opinions, and I find them distressing. Of perhaps even greater concern is that you promised Vespasian that the reigning Jin’Sai couldn’t possibly leave his side of the world. Should that prove untrue, I for one would not wish to endure our emperor’s wrath. Your twisted creation might yet turn on you.”
Still on his feet, Benedik turned to again glare at Gracchus. “Cynthia is right,” he said. “What say you about all this?”
“I say that it doesn’t matter,” Gracchus announced, still refusing to be humbled. “We cannot know what will become of the Jin’Sai. Thus it becomes pointless to worry about it. What will be will be. I will deal with Vespasian should the need arise. For now I suggest we discuss something about which we can take immediate action.”
“And what is that?” Aegaea Mithridates asked.
“The destruction of the Jin’Saiou,” Gracchus answered. “Never forget that she carries equal importance. She must be dealt with while we still possess the means to do so. I know that the hour is late, but you must hear my plan.”
“Very well,” Benedik answered.
As the single lamp burned and the night wore on, Gracchus outlined his scheme to destroy Shailiha. In the end, even Cynthia Flavanius was impressed.
CHAPTER XXX
TRISTAN LEANED AGAINST THE TAMMERLAND’S STERN gunwale watching the two Black Ships bound across the azure waves. Tyranny captained the Tammerland while Scars skippered the Ephyra. The wind was brisk and they were making good time. Then Tristan wondered about that.
Trying to gauge the ships’ progress in this strange place was frustrating, for the only way to do so was to watch the monolithic rock walls slip by on either side. One couldn’t estimate the rate of travel by looking up at the millions of glowing radiance stones embedded into the massive channel ceiling, for as Tyranny said, they showed no discernible pattern. Sailing this way was dangerous, the craggy walls waiting to tear the ships apart should they drift from their courses and strike them. To travel more safely, the Ephyra followed the Tammerland rather than sail beside her. With the dark walls looming on either side, Tristan couldn’t escape the gnawing feeling that they might be sailing straight into another trap.
He still had no answer as to why the dark walls had suddenly risen. They had not appeared the first time he visited the Azure Sea, nor had they been present during the first part of the battle against Khristos and the vipers. Only after Ox was ferrying Tristan toward the ships had the walls thundered up from the depths to meet the glowing cavern ceiling. But they surely existed now, and their overpowering presence disturbed him, for he could do little but watch the dark stone walls move silently by, their surfaces forbidding and treacherous.
The channel down which the Tammerland and Ephyra sailed was uncomfortably narrow. Tristan guessed it to be about one-eighth of a league wide. The riverlike channel trapped between the walls often snaked back and forth, making it impossible to see what lay beyond. Night Witch patrols had flown nearly to the point of no return, only to report that nothing laid ahead save for more of the same. Trying to navigate such treacherous waters was something that no one aboard had ever experienced.
Nerves were starting to fray, especially those of Tyranny and Scars. Their sure hands were constantly needed on the ships’ wheels, and Tristan knew that the privateer and her first mate grew more tired by the minute. Tristan guessed that when his mystics could sail the ships through the air they would be less subject to the whims of the wind and the water and the going would be safer. But he did not know when that might be, so until then they could only press on atop the waves.
Four hours had passed since they set sail. Or at least that was what the ships’ hourglasses said. But Tristan wondered whether even time could be confidently measured here. Not long ago he and Tyranny had guessed that the sage-colored light emitted from the radiance stones might never dim. If so, there would be no night, and that phenomenon would bring problems all its own. Sleep patterns would be disrupted, forcing the Minions to rest belowdecks in rotating shifts. Moreover, the great ships could not stop and weigh anchor, for although soundings had been taken, the channel bottom was never found.
Still, some encouraging signs remained. A water sample taken from the channel revealed that it was fresh, rather than salty, granting them an unlimited supply of drinking water. Even so, he ordered that the azure channel water not be used for any purpose until his mystics had assessed it.
Foodstuffs remained the other advantage, at least for now. Feeding everyone represented no immediate problem, for the ships’ lower decks held enough provisions to last for several months. Still, from what Tristan saw of this eerie place, there would be no chance to live off the land, and when the food was gone, his expedition would starve. No creatures or vegetation clung to the rocky walls or populated the azure water, nor had a single bird or insect been seen. Only the warm, odorless wind, the forbidding rocky walls, and the mysterious radiance stones existed here. Save for the usual noise made by busy Minion crew members, the only other sound was the crashing of the waves as they split against the ship’s bows. The environment was eerie, soulless, unsettling.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Tristan wearily ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. He was desperately tired, but the continually shining light made sleep elusive. His fatigue ran deeper than just in his mind and his muscles, he knew. For some time now it had been seeping its way deep into his soul.
He didn’t want to admit it, but the feeling could not be denied. The last few years of struggle had taken their toll, forcing him to wonder how much longer he could keep trying to fulfill the task that the late Envoys of Crysenium had explained to him during his first wondrous trip to the world’s other side. For a long time his mystics assumed that his destiny meant combining the Vigors and the Vagaries for the benefit of all mankind. But to his great surprise, the Envoys had said otherwise.
Instead, Tristan was to finally bring an end to the War of Attrition, the ongoing battle raging between Rustannica and Shashida. He would then unite the two nations and become their lone ruler, ensuring that they never again went to war. But the Envoys were savagely murdered by Rustannica’s Imperial Order before Tristan could learn how this great task might be accomplished. And so he struggled on to reach Shashida and to find the many answers still eluding him.
But it was more than just the uncertainty of it all, he knew. Since the return of the Coven of Sorceresses four years ago he had known little besides death, war, and personal loss. He was sick of killing and of seeing others killed, regardless of which side of the craft they served.
Nearly his
entire family and the beloved Directorate of Wizards had died either by his hand or because of his personal destiny. That was to say nothing of the thousands of Minion warriors who had willingly perished while serving him, and the many enemies of the Vigors he had personally killed. The numbers were too great to count, and as the tally grew, so did his sense of guilt for leading so many souls ever deeper into his personal war.
But what else could he do? he wondered as he watched the rocky walls silently slide past. He was the Jin’Sai. Like it or not, he had been born for this mission. His greatest hope was that if he could stop the War of Attrition, the lives he might save could somehow justify the deaths of all the others—a balancing of the Afterlife’s ledgers, if you will. But how many more would perish before he might somehow end that terrible war?
And when they died, how would that alter his imaginary balance sheet of death? Whom else might he lose in this struggle? Wigg, Shailiha, Faegan, Tyranny? Would he possess the strength, the spirit, the will to—
“Pardon, Jin’Sai,” a familiar voice suddenly broke in. Tristan turned to see Ox standing there.
“Wigg and Jessamay conscious again,” he said. “They ask for meeting, and say all Conclave members must come. They also want Scars and acolytes there.”
Tristan nodded, then thought for a moment. The only way that Tyranny and Scars could attend would be to stop the vessels somehow, for he trusted no one else to sail them the traditional way through these treacherous straits, and allowing them to drift was unthinkable. Because the soundings had found no channel bottom, the ships could not be anchored.
“Return to Wigg and ask if he and Jessamay have regained enough strength to empower the ships and hold them still in the channel,” he told Ox. “If so, tell them that we will come. Send a messenger to the Ephyra to inform Scars. When the ships stop, have that messenger bring Scars here. We will then furl both ship’s sails.”
“Yes, Jin’Sai,” Ox said.
As Ox went to confer with Wigg, Tristan walked up the Tammerland’s main deck to stand behind Tyranny at the ship’s wheel. For a time he admiringly watched her thread the ship through the strait as if through a swerving needle’s eye. She did more than simply react to the changing wind and waves, he realized. She anticipated them, her marvelous seafaring skills a natural part of her being.
Walking nearer, he gently touched her on one shoulder. Despite her demanding task she turned and smiled warily at him before returning her sharp gaze to the ship’s bow.
“You might fancy yourself a pilot,” she said slyly. “But if you’ve come to relieve me, you can forget it! You’d have us up on those rocks in minutes!”
Tristan let go a short laugh. “I don’t doubt it!” he answered. “Anyway, I’m not going to relieve you—Wigg is. You and Scars could do with a rest.”
Tyranny nodded gratefully. Moments later the Tammerland stopped dead in the water and held still in the center of the channel. No longer seeing the craggy walls slide dangerously by was a welcome relief.
After tying off the ship’s wheel, Tyranny ordered the Minions to furl the Tammerland’s many sails, lightening Wigg’s burden. Tristan looked astern to see that the Ephyra had also stopped and that her warriors were scrambling up her masts. A female Minion could be seen flying back to the flagship with Scars in her arms.
Tristan gestured toward the ship’s bow. “After you,” he said. Tyranny nodded. After stretching her tired back muscles she led the way forward toward one of the many open deck hatches.
The air surrounding the Tammerland was warm and humid, making the crowded atmosphere belowdecks even more uncomfortable. As he followed Tyranny down two gangways and along the length of deck three, he took in all the sights and sounds common to a busy warship.
Stacked crates of food, water barrels, and arms lockers lay all about, making traversing the decks difficult. Minion warriors were everywhere, busily going about their duties. As Tristan and Tyranny walked by, they snapped to attention, then pressed their bodies up against the walls to allow their superiors easier passage. Oil lamps enchanted to burn forever and without smoke lined the walls, giving the hallways an eerie appearance.
Coming to the end of one hallway, Tyranny opened a door and walked through. Following her, Tristan soon found himself in the Tammerland’s huge galley.
The place was a beehive of activity. There were so many warriors aboard that they were forced to eat in round-the-clock shifts, and so the galley never shut down. Warriors constantly chopped, stirred, cooked, and baked to provide enough food for their hungry brothers in arms. Tristan had long enjoyed Minion fare, and the enticing smells soon got his stomach growling, reminding him of how long it had been since he last ate.
At the far end of the galley Tyranny opened another door and they walked down another hallway. More busy warriors saluted and made way for them. Finally Tyranny stopped before a mahogany door on the hallway’s starboard side and double-knocked.
“Enter!” Wigg’s voice called out. Tyranny opened the door and she and Tristan walked into the First Wizard’s private quarters.
Like the all the quarters assigned to Conclave members, Wigg’s private rooms were spacious and attractive. Patterned rugs lay atop the hardwood floor and tall leaded glass windows swiveled wide to catch the sea breeze along the starboard wall. A great four-poster bed stood in one corner and a desk in the other, its top littered with parchments, texts, scrolls, and other tools of the craft.
Although all the windows were open, Wigg’s rooms seemed little cooler than the passageways Tyranny and Tristan had just navigated. On the salon’s port side was another door leading to the wizard’s private washroom. Tristan also noticed that the flat glass vial containing the remainder of the subtle matter had been securely mounted onto the wall behind Wigg’s desk against the whims of the waves and the shifting breezes. A large gilded oil lamp hung from the center of the ceiling but remained unlit because of the bright light pouring through the many open windows.
Wigg sat gingerly in a chair on one side of the room while Jessamay lay on a sofa with her legs propped up. Between them sat a low table, its marble top covered with plates of cheese, fresh fruit, dark bread, and flagons of red wine. A rolled-up scroll lay there as well. Tristan noticed that Wigg had replaced his seared robe with a fresh one, and in order not to aggravate her burns, Jessamay had donned an oversized doublet and equally blousy breeches.
Wigg managed a smile as he beckoned Tristan and Tyranny into the room. Tristan walked to Jessamay’s side, and as Tyranny followed she pulled up a chair for her and one for the prince. After sitting down, Tristan gave Jessamay a concerned look.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The Vigors sorceress nodded. “I am, but I’d be dead if Wigg hadn’t caught me in his warp. At first I thought that I had broken my back, but luckily I didn’t. Even so, every muscle throbs. I can’t recall anything after that until waking up in my quarters, but Wigg has kindly told me the tale. He has also granted me a spell to control my pain, and another of accelerated healing to help with my burns.”
The blond sorceress winced as she gingerly rearranged her burned legs, then gave Tristan a meaningful look. “We were lucky, you know,” she added quietly. “Khristos is a very powerful wizard, and his Blood Vipers are equally vicious. I know that we lost many warriors, but Wigg says that we likely killed an equal number of the enemy.”
“So, like Wigg, you know who Khristos is?” Tristan asked.
Jessamay nodded, but the look on her face said that Wigg should be the one to explain.
Tristan nodded, then folded his arms across his chest and looked into Wigg’s aquamarine eyes.
“And you, old friend?” he asked. “How are you faring?”
Wigg’s face was scalded, and painful-looking blisters showed on his hands and forearms. Even so, he seemed more energetic than did Jessamay.
“I’ll be all right,” he answered. “The important thing is that the subtle matter and the Black Ships were saved.
I’m sure that you will want to know about our losses—I have the report right here.”
As Wigg reached for the scroll lying on the tabletop, he winced, then decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. Just as Tristan tried to help, the First Wizard called the craft and levitated the scroll into the air, eluding Tristan’s grasp.
Wigg raised an eyebrow in the Jin’Sai’s direction. “I might be burned, but I’m not helpless, you know,” he muttered. The scroll then unrolled in midair and Wigg started reading it aloud.
“Eight hundred thirty-seven male and female warriors were killed outright on the beach,” Wigg said solemnly. “One thousand two hundred thirty were wounded, of whom about seven hundred are expected to recover and fight another day. Another one hundred or so remain unaccounted for. Ox informs me that those warriors who do not heal sufficiently or who lost limbs will be restricted to duties that no longer include combat. So a full one-third of our fighting force has been neutralized, even after the wounded return to duty.”
The news was even worse than Tristan feared. Taking a deep breath, he slumped in his chair and laid back his weary head. Hearing Wigg read those numbers sadly reminded him of his imagined death ledgers. Yet more marks for the debit page, he thought. Putting his thoughts aside, he turned to Tyranny.
“What is the status of our ships?” he asked.
Just as the privateer was about to answer, another knock sounded on the cabin door. “Enter!” Tristan called out.
The door swung open to reveal Scars, Astrid, and Phoebe. As Tristan beckoned them into the room, Tyranny set out three more chairs.
Scars looked exhausted, a rarity for him. As usual he wore only his torn trousers. Astrid and Phoebe also looked tired and drawn, and their red acolyte robes needed some serious scrubbing.
“Are you all right?” Tristan asked them at once.
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