Wulfgar smiled. "Indeed."
Then the Lord of the Vagaries leaned over, and placed both his hands upon the table. His single eye seemed to take everyone in at once. Even Serena found it unnerving.
"But hear me well," he added quietly. "The Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou are not to be killed. I have my own plans for my dear half brother and sister. Any of you who disobey this order will again find himself imprisoned in the sea-this time for all eternity."
The captain bowed his head slightly. "We understand, my lord," he answered. "All shall be as you order."
Serena watched as one of the Council lifted a goblet of wine in one skeletal hand and drank greedily. Some of the wine dribbled sloppily from his lipless mouth, running down his chin and onto his lap.
Unable to help herself, Serena continued to stare. He looked much like the others. Between the rents in his clothing and the spaces between his black ribs, she could see his esophagus undulate, and the swallowed wine swell his stomach. She watched transfixed as his dark heart beat, and his equally black lungs expanded and contracted with every breath.
Picking up a napkin from the table, he politely patted the wine from his teeth and chin. Amazed, Serena felt as though she was having dinner in a graveyard, with all of the interred risen from the ground, to join in the feast.
Wulfgar stood and trained his gaze upon the first of his captains.
"Come to me," he said.
The bizarre servant did as he was told.
"Kneel," Wulfgar ordered. The captain did so.
"Give me your sword."
The captain drew his weapon. It hadn't been freed for centuries, and it made a grating sound when it cleared its scabbard. Even so, the blade gleamed brightly in the lamplight. Bowing his head, the captain respectfully offered the weapon to his lord.
Taking the hilt in his good hand, Wulfgar held the sword to the light. Then he looked at those assembled at the table.
"So that your service to our cause shall have greater meaning for us all, I wish to know each of you by your family house," he said. He looked back down at his kneeling servant. "What was your family name, before your enemies condemned you to the sea?" he asked.
"Merriwhether," the captain answered.
Lowering the tip of the sword, Wulfgar pointed it toward the scabbard at the captain's side. Suddenly, a small, azure bolt of lightning launched from the tip of the weapon. Striking the scabbard, it etched the captain's family name into it. The script was elegant. The lightning disappeared, and Wulfgar raised the sword again.
"Arise, Captain Merriwhether," he said. "Welcome to the Council of Seven."
He handed the weapon back, and with a short bow, the captain stood and sheathed his sword.
As Serena and Einar watched Wulfgar repeat the process with each of the six other captains, Serena took care to remember their names: Merriwhether, Duggan, Sebastion, Grindoff, Cathmore, Ballard, and Garmane.
As they stood before her husband, Serena felt another twinge of her nerves. But this time, she knew, it was caused by her absolute certainty of the success of their mission, and her undying love for her husband. She knew that the Enseterat would return to her in victory.
Wulfgar raised his wine goblet.
"A toast," he said.
As Serena and Einar stood, all lifted their glasses.
"Tomorrow I shall order all of the demonslaver frigates into port, so that they will not interfere with your maneuvers," Wulfgar said. He raised his wine goblet higher.
"To the successful sea trials of the Black Ships!" he proclaimed.
As Wulfgar took a draft of wine, his Council of Seven cheered.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Beating his dark wings through the sky, Ox blessed the good weather. A dozen stout warriors made up the arrowhead-shaped formation flying in his wake.
Ox and his phalanx had been searching for several hours. So far, they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Truth be told, he wasn't really sure what he was looking for. Even Faegan hadn't been able to help very much when he gave the Minion his orders.
The wizard had done his best to explain, but the supposed existence of the Valrenkian community was not a simple concept to grasp, even for someone with a quicker wit than Ox. Faegan told him to scour the southern border of Hartwick Wood. Once there, he was to closely examine any villages or random groups of people he came across. If the warriors found a community that looked suspicious, they were to try to take a suitable prisoner. If the wizard's interrogation of him revealed nothing, he would, of course, be returned. So far, though, they had seen nothing unusual in the two hamlets they had searched. Only the Minions themselves were out of the ordinary: frightened citizens had scattered wildly when the warriors swooped low to take a look.
It was nearly midday, and the skies were clear. To scan as much territory as possible, Ox had taken his warriors very high. It was cold at this altitude, and frost had begun to form in their beards and hair.
Looking down, Ox could see the gentle curve of the Vitenka River. From its mouth at the coastal city of Far Point, it meandered southwest along the edge of the forest. In the distant south lay Heart Square, the fertile plain that always yielded so much wheat and barley. To the west of Heart Square the Vitenka would eventually split, its two branches reaching south toward the lower reaches of the Tolenka Mountains.
Thinking of the Tolenkas, Ox's mind turned to the Orb of the Vigors. He was no longer able to see the broken orb, but he was fully aware that it was still blasting its way through the granite peaks. He wondered what had become of the Minion party he and Geldon had left there, to watch the orb.
Ottikar, Ox's second in command, advanced to his side and pointed to the ground. Ox looked down again and saw a large, jagged circle of sandstone bluffs. Their wide, flat, tan-colored tops reflected scattered deposits of quartz. Inside their walls sat a small village, its inhabitants mere fly specks at this altitude.
As Ox looked closer, he began to see why Ottikar had brought this place to his attention. As best he could tell, there was absolutely no way in or out of the community.
Examining the stark bluffs again, he saw people standing atop them. Ox recognized guards when he saw them.
"Tell others stay here and circle," he shouted to Ottikar. "Then come back. You and me go down and look."
Nodding, Ottikar flew to rejoin the group. Moments later, he was by Ox's side again.
"Follow!" Ox ordered his second in command. "It not normal have no way in or out, or have guards atop walls! We try find reason!"
Folding his wings behind his back, Ox rolled over into a nearly vertical dive. The wind tearing at his face, he pointed himself toward the village.
Ottikar narrowed his eyes. Snapping back his wings, he followed his commander down.
His name was Uther, and he prided himself upon being one of the most savage Valrenkians. Because of the very high quality of his goods, he was also one of the wealthiest. The care and expertise he commanded in the preparation of his dark wares was second only to that of Reznik. It was often whispered among the Corporeals that Uther had long wished to usurp Reznik's place as their leader, and that he was willing to do anything-including murdering the revered herbmaster-to accomplish his ends.
Everyone knew that Reznik was aware of Uther's designs upon his position. They also understood that the wily leader of the Valrenkians would not be easily killed. And so they waited and watched, to see which of the two would prevail.
The front room of Uther's cottage, like Reznik's house, was filled with beakers, bottles, and books. Numerous fluid-filled jars held human and animal body parts. Uther watched his young apprentice cutting the toes off a corpse that had just been taken down from one of the street gibbets and grimaced. The boy was doing a terrible job of it. Many Corporeals did not appreciate the value of a good brace of toes, but Uther did. He shoved the boy aside and snatched away the knife.
"You ignorant bastard! How many times must I show you?" He waggled the knife in the appre
ntice's face. The boy blushed.
"Take each toe off at the joint nearest the foot!" Uther instructed.
"Otherwise you run the risk of rendering the entire appendage useless! I didn't age this endowed corpse just so you could come along and butcher it! Now watch me again!" Muttering under his breath, Uther placed the razor-sharp blade against the lifeless skin.
Before he could begin, they heard a commotion outside. Looking out the windows, Uther saw people gathering in the street. That was unusual enough to warrant looking into it.
Uther dropped the knife. Running his hands down his bloody smock, he hurried out the door. His confused apprentice followed.
The crowd in the street was growing, talking, pointing up at the sky. Looking up, at first Uther couldn't see what was commanding their attention. Then two dark forms appeared, seeming to plummet right out of the sun.
Uther had heard of the winged ones who had accompanied the Coven upon its return to Eutracia. He also knew of the rumors claiming that these creatures were now under the command of the prince. But, like the others here, Uther rarely traveled beyond the walls of the bluffs and until this moment had never seen one of the Minions of Day and Night. A cottage door banged shut, and he turned to see Reznik run over to join the stunned crowd.
At the last possible second, the two plunging forms abruptly pulled out of their dives. Snapping their wings open, the Minions leveled out and soared through the streets. The Valrenkians began to scatter.
Uther and his apprentice turned to run back to the cottage. But the apprentice tripped over his robe and Uther went down on top of him. As he hit the ground, he felt his ankle snap.
His apprentice scrambled his way out from under him and, with no regard for his master, ran into their cottage and slammed the door. Uther heard the lock in the door turn over. He looked frantically back to the sky, but saw nothing. The street had become deathly still.
Uther rose to stand on his good foot. Then he saw the two dark shadows tear across the ground toward him. He tried to run, but his bad foot collapsed painfully under him and he landed in the dirt again.
Uther watched in abject terror as the warriors soared down. In perfect unison, they leveled out on either side of him and expertly scooped him up, each holding one of his arms. Uther screamed, and tried to break free.
The next thing he knew was a meaty fist smacking into his face-and then nothing.
Finally seeing that it was safe, Reznik and a few others tentatively left their houses. They watched as the dark forms in the sky grew smaller, finally disappearing in the northeast. No one needed to tell Reznik who had sent the Minions, or where they were off to.
As he looked back down to the street, he couldn't escape the feeling that Satine was somehow the cause of this. Then he looked back to the sky, and another disturbing realization crossed his mind.
The wizards knew about them now, and they would be back. When they came, Valrenkium would have to be ready for them.
CHAPTER XXXIX
"The pollution that shall ravage the land will be never-ending, unless the Jin'Sai or the Jin'Saiou can summon the power to stop it. For the calamity shall be of the craft, and far beyond their wizards' abilities to control." -PAGE 333, VOLUME I OF THE PROPHECIES OF THE TOME
Tristan shot Celeste a quizzical look, then walked over to Wigg. An eerie silence still commanded the room. Wigg's eye was still trained upon the lens at the top of the signature scope as though he thought that if he stared at the blood signature long enough, he might somehow change what he was seeing. Tristan placed a hand upon the First Wizard's shoulder.
"Wigg," he said quietly, "are you all right?"
Wigg looked up at the prince. It was plain to see that he was overcome.
"What's wrong?" Tristan asked.
"It's her blood signature," Wigg breathed. He looked over at Jessamay. "You knew, didn't you?" he asked. "That's why you wanted me to use the scope."
Jessamay nodded.
Sensing Jessamay's pain, Celeste walked over and put her arms around the older woman. Jessamay gave Celeste a startled look. Then she looked back at Wigg. A strange mixture of sadness and surprise had suddenly come over her face. Celeste held Jessamay closer.
"What did you see through the scope?" Celeste asked her father.
Wigg sighed. "Do you remember my telling you that blood signatures lean either to the left or to the right?" he asked. Tristan and Celeste nodded.
"If the signature leans to the right, then its owner is induced to practice the Vigors," Tristan said as if reciting a lesson. "And if it leans to the left, the Vagaries. The lean is determined at birth, and it is immutable."
Wigg nodded, then shook his head in wonder. "Jessamay's signature displays no lean whatsoever," he said.
Tristan scowled. "But you said that was impossible!"
"That's right," Wigg said. "And until this afternoon, that's what I believed. But the proof is right here, on this table."
He went to sit on the bed. As Celeste moved aside, he took one of Jessamay's hands.
"Failee did this to you, didn't she?" he asked. "It was part of her experimentation."
Using her free hand to wipe away her tears, Jessamay nodded.
"It was so horrible," she whispered. "I was the only one who survived. Even so, Failee hadn't quite finished her work."
"What do you mean?" Tristan asked.
"Failee was trying to convert her signature from right-leaning, to left," Wigg answered for Jessamay. "But you killed the First Mistress before it was done."
He shook his head. "Jessamay and the others were here the entire time we were. They were only two rooms away, and we never realized it. If only we had known…"
He looked back down at the terrified sorceress. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Failee wished to convert disciples of the Vigors to willingly serve the Vagaries by altering their blood signatures," she said.
"Had she completed her work, our world would be a far different place. During her last session with me, she bragged about how close she was."
"Who were the other subjects in the alcoves?" Celeste asked.
Wigg's mouth suddenly fell open and he covered his face with his palms. He shook his head gently.
"They were my other female officers of the Black Watch, weren't they?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hands.
Jessamay touched Wigg's face. "Yes," she answered. "She never told us what became of the male Black Watch officers she captured. Killed, presumably. We females were brought here by Succiu, when she returned from her raid on Eutracia. Failee gloated about it, telling us that she now possessed not only us, but the Paragon and the Jin'Saiou, as well. She said that nothing could stand in the way of her creating her fifth sorceress. Katherine, Jessica, Phaedra, Mallory-" Her voice broke. "Not all of us, but many. You and the other wizards no doubt thought us killed in battle. But we were here, suffering under Failee's hand. The bones of my Black Watch sisters lie in the alcoves below."
"What is the Black Watch?" Tristan asked.
Wigg rubbed his face. "The Black Watch was an elite fighting force formed during the height of the Sorceresses' War," he said. "Each officer was endowed. They were trained in the craft as best we knew how during those early days of the war-and all were devoted to the Vigors. They commanded handpicked Eutracian citizens who had volunteered for hazardous duty. Using hit-and-run tactics, the Black Watch came to be the scourge of the Coven." He paused for a moment, looking up at the prince.
"As the commander of all the forces fighting the Coven, I also oversaw the Black Watch. Jessamay was my most accomplished commander. We fought side by side many times. She saved my life twice."
He looked back down at Jessamay. "There is still something I do not understand. That was more than three hundred years ago. In between your capture and Succiu's bringing you here, where were you kept?"
A dark look came over Jessamay's face. "We were held prisoner in individual sorceress' cones, deep in the
Caves of the Paragon," she answered. "For nearly three hundred years we lingered there, under Failee's charms of endurance. During the Coven's banishment, we were watched over by a mad, half-human, half-blood stalker named Ragnar."
For several long moments no one spoke. Tristan took Celeste's hand. They had both been scarred by Ragnar, but his treatment of Celeste-three hundred years of abuse and torture-was by far the worse.
Another sudden look of understanding crossed Wigg's face. Staring out at nothing, he slowly nodded his head. Then he balled his hands up into fists.
"Of course!" he whispered. "So that is how Nicholas managed it! I should have guessed sooner!"
"What?" Tristan asked.
"Nicholas' conversion of the consuls," Wigg answered. "We were never sure how he enticed them to the Vagaries. Now we know."
Tristan nodded. "Failee must have finished her research at some point, and recorded the calculations in the Scroll of the Vagaries," he mused. "But I obviously killed her before she could complete the spell upon Jessamay-or Shailiha and me, for that matter. Then the Scrolls somehow came into Nicholas' possession. He used the same calculation to convert the consuls, before he hid them in the Gates of Dawn."
"During my time with her, Failee talked about the Scrolls, and the science of Forestallments," Jessamay said. "Where are the Scrolls now?"
Tristan exchanged glances with Wigg. "The Scroll of the Vigors is safe in Eutracia," he said. "But the Scroll of the Vagaries is in the possession of…other forces. And I fear we have not heard the last of its new owner."
Jessamay took hold of Wigg's robe. Her eyes searched his face.
"I must speak to you alone," she said. "It is vital. I mean no disrespect to the Jin'Sai or to your daughter, but you must grant me this request."
Wigg smoothed her hair. He nodded.
"Very well," he said, "if it means that much to you."
Wigg looked over at Tristan and Celeste. Tristan nodded, and escorted Celeste from the room. Then Wigg turned back to his old friend.
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