Tristan sat back in his chair. He grasped everything he had just heard, but hosts of questions remained. He turned to look at Mashiro.
“If Vespasian’s advance is stopped and Rustannica can one day be brought to her knees, why would you then wish to destroy the Tome and the Scrolls of the Ancients?” Tristan asked. “And why would you ‘dismantle’ the craft? If the Vagaries disciples can be neutralized without destroying the orb that empowers their side of the craft, why would you contemplate such a thing?”
“Indeed,” Wigg added. “We mean no disrespect, but what you’re proposing suggests destroying everything we have spent our lives trying to protect.”
Renjiro folded his arms across his chest and gave Wigg and Tristan a compassionate look. “We understand your concern,” he said. “Your limited successes in better understanding and using the craft have been admirable. And from your less educated viewpoints, our suggestions must surely seem antithetical. But you must hear us out. Over the aeons, even our use of the Vigors has become a source of great concern, to say nothing of the death and destruction the Vagaries practitioners have caused. If we are to succeed in saving the craft, we must first eliminate some of its higher applications and destroy forever the tools that have allowed those applications to flourish. The craft is in desperate need of salvation, for its evolution during the last few thousand years has denigrated Vigors and Vagaries practitioners alike. Although this downward slide was started by the Pon Q’tar as a way to destroy us, we were forced to adopt some of the same techniques in order to fight off their constant onslaughts. If both sides of magic and their practitioners are to eventually live in peace, the craft must become much more the way it once was.”
“Are you referring to the plan that was outlined to me by the Envoys of Crysenium?” Tristan asked. “It was their wish that I return to Crysenium and my blood signature be altered to the vertical so that it shows no bias. Then I was to try to find a rebel organization called the League of Whispers and eventually convince the Rustannicans that a peaceful solution could be found. The Envoys hoped that such a display of trust would carry much weight and perhaps lead us onto the road toward peace.”
“As did the rest of us,” Mashiro answered. “Some of those same Envoys once sat at this table, and it was in this room that their plan was approved. But the situation has changed markedly in the short time between then and now. Because of Rustannica’s rapidly spiraling financial troubles and the advent of Vespasian’s new campaign, the Suffragat members would never entertain a peace proposal now, because this campaign has simply cost them too much of their already dwindling treasury funds. The die has been cast, and for Vespasian and the Pon Q’tar this is a campaign of last resort. They simply don’t have the funds to sustain their country while spending decades conducting peace negotiations. They know that we could simply wait them out as they grow progressively poorer and further unable to control their restless populace. Vespasian and the Pon Q’tar would never stand for that. We believe that the only way to stop them now is by vanquishing them in the field. In fact, we have no other choice, because if they take and hold our gold supplies we will soon find our economic situations reversed. But that is not to say that every facet of the Envoys’ peace plan was without merit.”
“I still don’t understand,” Tyranny said. “If you can vanquish the Rustannicans, what need would there be to ‘dismantle’ the craft?”
“Despite the craft’s mazelike complexities, your question is perhaps best answered with two simple words,” Mashiro said.
Wigg raised an eyebrow. “And what might they be?” he asked.
Mashiro looked deeply into Wigg’s eyes. “Free will,” he said softly.
Tristan glanced at Wigg to find a look of complete surprise. Then the First Wizard’s expression morphed into one of deep thought.
“Are you all right?” Tristan asked.
His thoughts racing, Wigg stared at Tristan with unseeing eyes, then blankly looked back at Mashiro.
“I beg the Afterlife,” he breathed. “The Paragon, the forestallments, the Tome, and the Scrolls of the Ancients—they were all crutches! Everything is gradually spiraling out of control and taking craft practitioners from both sides into the abyss with it! The more advanced our craft use becomes, the more we hurt ourselves!”
Pausing for a moment, Wigg simply stared into space. “I’m right, am I not?” he breathed. “I beg the Afterlife—how could we have been so blind? We worked so hard…we always believed that what we were doing was so right…”
Tristan gave Wigg a concerned look. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“As I said, we’re talking about free will,” Mashiro answered in the wizard’s stead. “The true purpose of uniting Shashida and Rustannica goes far deeper than just ending the War of Attrition. The unification’s greater goal will be not only to return all blood signature leans to the vertical, but also to forever rid the world of forestallments. This will allow a return to free will, which, because of blood signature lean, neither side truly possesses. Despite what you might have been led to believe, blood signatures did not always show a perceptible lean one way or the other. As endowed human beings evolved, so did this trait that so strongly influences them to pursue one side of the craft or the other. The stronger the blood quality, the stronger the compulsion. If all blood signatures can be aligned to the vertical without exception, perhaps blood signature lean can be wiped out for good. And without forestallments, people will again spend lifetimes learning to use magic rather than simply having its many gifts so easily imbued into their blood, thereby ending the overuse of the craft. Because the craft’s many gifts can be so readily imbued into endowed blood by forestallment, even here in Shashida many of our endowed persons have dedicated themselves to little more than lives of outright leisure. We have not yet succumbed to the depravity of the Rustannicans, but that is not to say it couldn’t happen. Hard work and the satisfaction of the struggle needed to learn the craft the traditional way—and with it a better appreciation of its many gifts—are becoming a thing of the past. Something earned by sweat and toil is far more treasured than that which has been effortlessly given. A new, unified culture will be forced to begin again, and to live in peace for the good of the craft and all mankind despite our differences. Forestallments were first conceived by the Pon Q’tar to quickly empower their mystics with powerful, destructive gifts. They believed—and rightly so—that if they could do this fast enough, their mystics and soldiers could easily crush us. They nearly succeeded.”
Amazed by what he had just heard, Tristan looked over at Renjiro. “This is what you meant earlier, isn’t it,” he asked, “when you said that if we are to succeed in saving the craft and ourselves, we must first banish some of its applications and forever destroy the tools that have allowed those applications to flourish? That also means destroying the Tome and the two Scrolls.”
“Yes,” Renjiro answered. “And all such documents and research on this side of the world as well. Here in Shashida, the Tome and two Scrolls do not carry the great importance that you place on them. To us, they are little more than children’s craft primers, and they are not needed. The Vagaries Scroll was created by the Pon Q’tar and left behind on the world’s eastern side so that future generations of Vagaries practitioners might find it and put its forestallment calculations to the same use as here. Failee found the Scroll, but it came into her grasp too late to help her win the Sorceresses’ War. The next time the Scroll surfaced it was in Nicholas’ hands. Then it came to be owned by Krassus, Wulfgar, Serena, and finally you and your Conclave. Although doing so went against our better judgment, we were forced to create a Vigors Scroll and leave it behind so that it might counterbalance the Vagaries Scroll. It also came into Nicholas’ grasp but was stolen by the orphans called Marcus and Rebecca and was later given to you. The Tome and the Paragon were also created by us and left behind for the same reasons. Because we feared that the Tome might fall into the hands of Vagaries practitioners
, we were forced to make its revelations purposely obscure.”
Tristan looked over at Wigg and Tyranny. Tyranny still seemed stunned, but Wigg’s expression had become resigned, accepting.
“You agree with this plan, don’t you,” Tristan said.
Wigg nodded soberly. “Now that I understand it, I do indeed,” he answered. Lacing his long fingers together and placing his hands atop the table, Wigg looked at Mashiro.
“But I suspect that there is something more to your hopes and dreams than what you have told us,” he said. “And as you told Tyranny, it might be best summed up in two words.”
Mashiro smiled. The wizard has grasped it, he thought. “And what might they be?” he asked.
“Respectful tolerance,” Wigg answered. “The concept that all Vigors and the Vagaries practitioners have done the things they did because they were compelled to do so by the nature of their blood. And that if this concept can be universally accepted and all blood signatures made the same, each side can forgive the other. Then the healing can truly begin.”
“Well said,” Kaemon spoke up from the other side of the table. “Now you understand that your many struggles east of the Tolenkas were only the beginning. The real war is here, and you have become a part of it.”
Tristan suddenly felt a distant memory tug at his mind. It was a puzzling recollection whose meaning had long eluded him. At long last he had his answer.
“Krassus…,” he said softly.
“What of Krassus?” Wigg asked.
“It happened the day I awakened to find myself a slave on one of his demonslaver ships,” Tristan answered. “Before condemning me to the galleys, Krassus ordered me tied to a chair and he beat me. I defied him, and I told him that like Nicholas, he represented nothing but evil. Until this moment, his answer mystified me.”
“What did he tell you?” Wigg asked.
Tristan thought for a moment, trying to remember the Vagaries wizard’s words.
“Evil?” Tristan quoted. “He who has yet to be trained calls me evil? Don’t you know that there are no such things as good or evil, Chosen One? There are only the Vigors and the Vagaries. Tell me, dear prince, do you really believe that Failee was ‘evil’? Or was she simply doing what she was compelled to do? Given the undeniable call of her left-leaning signature, did she truly have a choice? Don’t you see, you fool? It is the same with me. I’m not ‘evil.’ I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”
Tristan looked at Mashiro. “You speak of tolerance,” he said. “Do you mean to say that all the Vagaries practitioners—no matter how vile—should be forgiven their terrible deeds because their blood compelled them to perform them?”
Mashiro sighed. “That is a question that has plagued us ever since the discovery of blood signature lean and the terrible realization that it easily induces us into vastly opposing actions and beliefs,” he answered. “Shashidan philosophers have spent aeons trying to learn the answer to that question but to no avail. I cannot say whether the Vagaries practitioners should be forgiven any more than we should be, for what they believe are the many transgressions that we perpetrated on them. But what I do know is that it calls into question the conflicting natures of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Perhaps this is what Krassus was trying to tell you. Can one exist without the other? I don’t know. But like the two sides of the craft, it seems that they at least need one another, if for no other reason than to justify their existence. Perhaps the true answer will only be found if everyone’s blood signatures are altered to the vertical. With the full and lasting return of free will, if people freely choose to practice the Vagaries and to hurt and enslave others, perhaps only then might they legitimately be pronounced ‘evil,’ and rightly punished for their deeds. But until that day, all this is simply a matter of semantics. Before our dreams can come true, Vespasian must be stopped. If not, we and the Vigors that we so cherish might well perish from the earth. Should we fail, at the least Rustannica’s ability to continue this monstrous war will be prolonged, perhaps interminably so. And because we believe that if one side of the craft perishes, then so too will the other, we fight from a unique perspective and for a far different goal than do the Rustannicans. Unlike them, we do not fight to destroy the opposite side of the craft, but to save both sides.”
“How do you plan to stop Vespasian’s advance?” Tyranny asked.
“Our forces are gathering to meet them as we speak,” another female Inkai answered. “The only reason that we haven’t engaged them yet is because we learned that a reigning Jin’Sai was finally crossing the Azure Sea. With you in our midst the entire nature of the battle plan must be changed. Now that you are here, our new plan can begin in earnest—provided, of course that you agree to help us defeat Vespasian. Contrary to what you might have guessed, so far we have purposely not provided his forces with much resistance.”
“Why not?” Tristan asked.
“Because the place from which he must take our gold is unique and also the best place in which to trap his forces,” she answered. “Vespasian surely knows this, but because he needs the gold, he has no choice.”
Tristan looked across the table at the Inkai whom Mashiro had introduced as Haru of the House of Eagles. She seemed younger than the other elders, with dark hair that was streaked with gray. Her sky-blue robe bore white embroidered eagles. She was an attractive woman with piercing blue eyes.
Tristan gave Haru a curious look. “Why would your choice of a battle plan depend on my participation?” he asked. “I remain untrained in the ways of the craft. The powers of my Conclave mystics do not begin to rival yours, and my Minions are but a paltry few when compared with your reputedly immense forces. We will of course do all that we can to help. But how can such less powerful souls as we possibly make any difference in this struggle?”
Renjiro leaned forward and looked directly at Tristan. “You and Vespasian possess the highest quality endowed blood in the world,” he answered. “His blood is the full equal of yours. Your crossing paths this way is earth-shattering in its importance to the craft and the world that it governs. Had you not been born when you were, Vespasian and his forces would surely defeat us. It is highly unlikely that a confluence of such amazingly powerful opposing bloodlines will ever occur again. You two have the potential to become the world’s greatest leaders and warriors—you of the Vigors and he of the Vagaries. Thanks to Gracchus’ teachings, Vespasian will soon reach his full potential. But you have not had such training, and it will be our task to ready you at last. What follows will surely be the final battle for dominance. Either we will win and both sides of the craft will flourish for the good of all mankind, or Vespasian and his forces will defeat us and the craft will cease to exist, plunging the world into never-ending darkness and chaos.”
His gaze growing sterner, Renjiro locked his dark eyes onto Tristan’s. “For you see, Jin’Sai,” he said, “Vespasian has been carefully groomed and trained all his life by the Pon Q’tar to serve only one purpose—to lead them to final victory over Shashida. We suspect that his blood holds gifts of which even he is not aware—gifts that his Pon Q’tar masters will unleash at the right moment. Vespasian believes that he is their ruler, and in some ways that is true. But he is also their puppet and their ultimate tool of war. If you agree, we will train you in the same fashion, for only you can lead us to victory against the human abomination that the Pon Q’tar has produced. The result will be a battle between titans such as the world has never seen. In this way your fabled destiny will finally come to fruition.”
Shocked yet again by Renjiro’s words, for several moments Tristan sat in silence. Finally he found his voice.
“But Vespasian has had a lifetime to prepare for this struggle!” Tristan protested. “What you suggest seems impossible. How can you train me so fast?”
“By making you Vespasian’s equal,” Renjiro answered sternly.
“But how…?” Tristan asked.
“We must to do the very things that we have so
come to dread,” Renjiro answered quietly. “Because of their supreme quality, only your blood and his are strong enough to survive what must be done to them to achieve ultimate power in the craft. Some among us consider our plan to be the ultimate abuse of the craft, but we have little choice if we are to survive.” Pausing for a moment, Renjiro gazed again into Tristan’s eyes.
“Just as the Pon Q’tar did with Vespasian, we intend to imbue your blood signature with forestallments that have long been banned because they might literally mean the end of the world.”
CHAPTER XL
RISING FROM HER SEAT AT THE WAR TABLE, PERSEPHONE walked to the command tent flap and gazed outside. The day had grown late, but aside from the lengthening shadows, the view had changed little since Vespasian and Lucius had departed to inspect the battle zone. Gracchus had grown weary of waiting for Vespasian’s return and went to attend to other matters. Saying that she was tired, Julia Idaeus had gone off to rest in her private tent chamber. Persephone was glad to have some quiet time alone.
As she looked down the long slope, she saw that it was still blanketed with row after row of legionnaires marching to the front. This was the empress’s first foray into war, and although she took no part in the fighting, she believed herself to be an important part of this campaign. Vespasian wisely relied on the advice of all his counselors before making important decisions. But Persephone had always been his greatest confidante and most trusted friend, and in many ways he valued her opinion above all others. Although her experience afield was limited, her schooling in military tactics and the history of war was every bit as comprehensive as her husband’s. One look at a war map was all she needed to sum up a situation and give Vespasian a valid and well-conceived opinion.
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