Vivian nodded.
Wulfgar explained her new role as his spy here in the Redoubt. He taught her how to mask her blood signature with an image of her old one. He told her who Bratach was, and described his role in their cause. And he taught her how to use the grains of wheat to leave secret messages in the fountain. Satisfied, he had then taken his leave of her to go to the palace roof to confront the Orb of the Vigors.
Wulfgar had not succeeded in polluting the orb that night. But upon reading the first message left for her by Bratach, Vivian had been overjoyed to learn that her new master had survived, and that he would soon return.
Setting aside those memories, Vivian turned another corner to find herself in the roundabout, where the indigo of the coming night played deftly upon the fountain and its dancing waters. She walked to it and sat down upon its edge.
This time she didn't have to wait for the traffic in the roundabout to lessen. There was no one there to see her take the grains of wheat from her pocket, or notice the narrow bands of azure escaping from between her fingers.
The azure slowly died, and Vivian placed her hand into the water.
CHAPTER LIII
As the door hinges creaked, tyranny realized her mistake. In their haste to prepare an ambush for the approaching demonslavers, she and her little band had neglected to drag the dead slavers along with them. The monsters they had killed still lay sprawled across the stone room.
As soon as they opened the door, the arriving demonslavers would surely see their fallen comrades, and any hope for surprise that Tyranny might have had would vanish in a flash.
Tyranny looked desperately at Scars. He grimly shook his head, telling her that it was too late to do anything about it. Swallowing hard, Shailiha raised her sword a bit higher.
Suddenly they heard a slaver call out, from somewhere along the guard path.
"You, there!" the voice shouted. "No rest for your group yet! Get back to your posts and stay on patrol!"
Still as death, the little war party in the stone room waited and listened. Then they heard some grumbling, and the door was pulled shut. The slavers' footsteps retreated into the distance.
Lowering her sword, Tyranny let go of the breath she had been holding. She closed her eyes for a moment. Then she looked over at Shailiha and winked.
Shailiha uncoiled a little and shook her head, but though she tried to scowl, she couldn't hold back a smile.
Placing one finger over her lips, Tyranny cracked open the door and peeked out. Then she shut the door and turned to the others.
"Those slavers are back on patrol," she whispered. "Now is as good a time as any to get going!"
Shailiha shot her a look. "Don't tell me you still mean to take us into the Citadel!"
Tyranny nodded. "Indeed I do! But we can't remain there for as long as I'd hoped. If these dead slavers weren't due to go on duty quite yet, it certainly can't be long from now. Once someone finds these bodies, this whole place is going to erupt. We have to go now!"
She opened the door and cautiously ventured out. The others followed silently. Glancing at the sky, the privateer winced. The clouds had departed, and the three red moons blatantly cast the invaders' dark shadows across the guard path.
Their only option now was to have the Minion warriors fly Tyranny, Shailiha, and Scars down into the courtyard.
K'jarr hoisted Tyranny into his arms. Then he suddenly froze, and his eyes widened. In the haunting moonlight, Tyranny could see the blood draining from his face.
"What are you waiting for?" she whispered urgently.
Letting go with one arm, he pointed out to the ocean. "Look! Perhaps now you'll believe me!"
Twisting around, Tyranny gazed out over the moonlit water, and her own eyes widened in terror and amazement. "Get us out of here right now!" she ordered. "Over the ocean, not down into the courtyard!"
Snapping open his wings, K'jarr took several running steps and launched himself into the air. The others followed.
But as the Minions' shadows rolled across the guard path, one of the distant, patrolling demonslavers saw them. He shouted an alarm. In mere moments the Citadel erupted into pandemonium as armed demonslavers began to pour out of the buildings below.
K'jarr started to carve out a turn that would take them all back to the litter, but Tyranny stopped him.
"No!" she shouted urgently. Removing one arm from around the warrior's neck, she pointed down to the sea. "Take us there! We must see this!"
Obeying at once, K'jarr changed course. As they watched, a large area of the sea roiled and burbled. Then a dark crow's nest broke through the waves. The Black Ships were surfacing.
Amid upheavals of dark seawater, all seven vessels burst from the ocean at once. As one, their black sails snapped open and the warships lurched forward, bounding across the waves.
Her mouth hanging open, all Tyranny could do was to hold on to K'jarr and stare at the vessels, awestruck. K'jarr stopped to hover, and the warriors carrying Scars and Shailiha came up alongside.
Each of the deadly looking vessels was easily five or six times the size of the Reprise. White-skinned demonslavers poured over their decks. In her current condition, Tyranny's flagship didn't have a chance of outrunning them, and the privateer knew it.
"Get closer." As she and K'jarr neared, Tyranny got her first glimpse of one of the Black Ships' skeletal captains. He rode the bow of his surging ship, holding on to the rigging with one fleshless arm. His bones were as black as the vessel that carried him. His tattered uniform seemed somehow familiar, but she couldn't place it. His eyes glowed with an eerie green; his teeth were white against the black of his skinless head. The moonlight glinted off the blade of the shiny sword he held aloft.
The nighttime sky began to glow with azure for leagues in every direction, turning night into day. Swiveling her gaze back toward the Citadel, Tyranny squinted against the brilliant light.
Two men and a woman stood on the shore. From this distance Tyranny couldn't identify the obviously pregnant woman in the red gown, or the fellow in the dark blue robe. But she knew the other man-the one in the emerald-green silk jacket and matching trousers. It was Wulfgar.
The Enseterat's arms were raised, the glow streaming from his open hands setting the night sky wildly alight.
Before Tyranny could order K'jarr and the others to flee, Wulfgar pointed in their direction. A narrow beam shot straight at them. Tyranny had never seen a bolt of the craft launched from so far away.
The three warriors scattered frantically, the bolt narrowly missing them. As it roared past, Tyranny could feel its heat and wind tear at her hair and clothing. The force of the blast turned K'jarr over. With Tyranny holding on for dear life, he tumbled nearly fifty meters before stabilizing himself again. Trying to take stock of her surroundings, Tyranny saw that the other warriors still carried their passengers. Blessedly, none of them seemed to have been hurt.
More azure bolts coursed through the air. Tyranny could see that the unknown man and woman were adding their own magic to Wulfgar's. Soon the sky was full of the deadly streaking shafts.
"Get us out of here!" Tyranny screamed. "Back to the litter!"
With Tyranny, Scars, and Shailiha holding on tight, the three warriors turned and flew northwest as fast as their wings could take them. As they put some distance between themselves and the Citadel, the onslaught of azure bolts finally stopped.
Thinking that they might finally be safe, Tyranny sighed in relief. Then she looked down again, and a chill went through her.
The seven Black Ships were chasing them.
The pursuing warships sailed in a straight battle line. Their speed was amazing, but they were not quite able to maintain the pace of the flying warriors, and they slowly lost ground. At first Tyranny was elated. But even Minion warriors would eventually tire, she realized.
The Black Ships remained on course like a pack of dogs following a scent. Then she saw azure again-not in the sky, but upon the sea. The Black Sh
ips were glowing.
She watched in awe as the mighty vessels took on the color of the craft. The aura started at the vessels' sterns, slowly engulfing each ship as it moved toward the bow and replacing black with the most brilliant hue of the craft she had ever seen.
Tyranny had to admit that the vessels were magnificent. She looked over at Shailiha and Scars and saw that they were equally entranced.
Suddenly she heard a great rumbling. Louder and louder it became, until she realized that it was coming from the vessels.
The Black Ships were rising from the water.
At first she thought she was seeing things. She blinked her eyes and looked again, but the scene remained the same. Seawater ran from the ships' bottoms as they rose about ten meters above the waves. Their speed increased. Tyranny looked over at Shailiha. Her face grim, the princess shook her head.
The Black Ships were gaining on them. Tyranny knew that the litter couldn't be far away now. But if she caused it to glow, the ships' captains would surely see it. If the Black Ships destroyed the litter, not only might they lose the remaining Minions, Micah, and the captured slaver, but the enchanted sextant would be lost as well. Worse yet, they still had to return to the Reprise well ahead of their pursuers, and Faegan's portal would be leagues away from there, if it opened at all.
Then she remembered something she had so glibly asked all of the others not so long ago, back inside the demonslaver guardhouse. If the Jin'Sai were here, she wondered, what would he do?
Panic gripped her; she had never been so unsure of herself in her life. Turning, she gazed forward and searched for the tiny litter.
Suddenly she remembered the last command in Old Eutracian that Faegan had written down for her. He had told her to use it only in the direst of emergencies, for it would be difficult to control and he couldn't guarantee how long it might last. Now it seemed their only hope. But first they would have to reach the litter well ahead of the Black Ships. Behind them, she could see the dark hulls looming ever closer.
The chase was on.
CHAPTER LIV
As Faegan sat alone in the chilly, subterranean room, he pulled the shawl closer around his shoulders. One night and much of the next day had passed since he and his group had been trapped here in Valrenkium, and he could still see no way out of their troubles. The blue-tinted blocks of ice standing against the walls twinkled back at him, only adding to his sense of outrage and disgust.
He had ordered the entire village searched once more. This time, Reznik's cellar had been discovered. Now one of Reznik's handwritten texts lay open in the wizard's lap. He was hoping that he might find notes to guide him in removing the strange stone lattice that entrapped them. So far, he had had no luck.
Faegan was beginning to develop a feel for Reznik and his ways. Like Satine, Reznik was not only ruthless but also an expert in his chosen field. There would have been nothing, Faegan realized, that Reznik would have loved more than to add another insult to the wizard's defeat.
In his haste Reznik had been unable to take everything. It was Faegan's guess that he had hidden much of what remained here in this cellar, where he hoped it wouldn't be found. As Faegan examined the grisly treasures of the craft, he was forced to admit that despite how much he hated what had gone on here, the tools and texts of the Valrenkian's various subdisciplines were fascinating. If Faegan and the warriors could escape this place, he had every intention of taking Reznik's possessions back to the Redoubt for further study.
The wizard sighed. This room-nay, this entire village-was a gigantic shop of horrors. He hadn't seen this much evidence of twisted, secret torture since the Sorceresses' War, and he hoped he would never have to again. Worse yet, he had not succeeded in his goal of wiping out the Valrenkians.
He would give anything to know where these abusers of the craft had fled. He knew that there were greater problems in the realm to worry about, but no matter how long it might take, he would personally hunt down the Corporeals and kill them all. Not only because of their crimes against humanity, but also for their crimes against the craft.
But first he and his warriors had to escape this place.
He frowned as he remembered the old wizards' axiom about survival. Popular during the Sorceresses' War, it was called the Rule of Threes. Even wizards and sorceresses could survive without air for only three minutes, without water for three days, and without food for three weeks. Had he brought the right tools of the craft with him, he might have been able to conjure some food. But as it was, it seemed they were to remain desperately hungry. Fortunately, they had found a working well at one end of the square, so at least they would be spared dying of dehydration.
The stone lattice still spanned the entire village. He didn't dare venture into the trap-filled maze, the only other way out of this madhouse. Some of the warriors had volunteered to brave it, to see if they could make it to the other side. The offer had been tempting, but in the end the wizard's heart couldn't allow it.
But what worried him the most were his fellow members of the Conclave who were no longer in Eutracia-Tristan, Wigg, and Celeste in Parthalon, and Tyranny and Shailiha somewhere out upon the Sea of Whispers. By now they might all desperately need his help to return home, and he couldn't give it.
Finally his frustration got the better of him. In a rare display of anger he threw the text he had been reading across the room. When several of Reznik's macabre bottles shattered, it did his heart good.
"I surrender!" a voice boomed from the other side of the cellar.
Wheeling his chair around, Faegan saw Traax descend the steps. There was an unexpected smile on the warrior's face. Faegan scowled.
"It would be a shame to kill me, wizard, for I bring good news!" Traax said. When he reached the dirt floor, he planted his hands on his hips and his smile widened.
"What is it?" Faegan asked skeptically. His gray-green eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you've found a way out of this zoo!"
"Perhaps! Abbey, Sister Adrian, and Ottikar have found us! The captured Valrenkian Uther is with them! He must certainly know how to navigate the maze!"
His heart leaping, Faegan tossed the shawl aside, levitated his chair, and sailed up and out of the cellar. Traax quickly followed.
The scene in the square was jubilant. It was midevening, and the torches were lit. The warriors had gathered on one side of the square, and they cheered as they looked up through the stone latticework. Duvessa and Ox beamed at Faegan and Traax as they approached. Looking up, Faegan smiled. He couldn't have hoped for more.
Just beyond the latticework, Abbey and Adrian stood in a Minion litter borne aloft by six stout warriors. The women were smiling broadly. A phalanx of warriors surrounded them, and off to one side, Ottikar and another warrior held Uther between them by his wrists.
Apparently the Valrenkian hadn't been given the comfort of a litter. He dangled precariously, the torchlight showing his face red with anger and embarrassment. The warriors in the village shouted invectives at him, many of them calling for his head. For the first time since entering the village, Faegan smiled.
"This seems a fine mess you've gotten everyone into!" Abbey shouted down at him. Despite the seriousness of the situation she couldn't resist poking some fun at him. "Do you mean to say that even your powers cannot break these stone bars?"
Folding his arms over his chest, Faegan scowled. Levitating his chair he soared as close to Abbey and Adrian's litter as the lattice would allow.
"That's exactly what I mean!" he answered gruffly. Then his face registered concern. "Have you heard from Tristan and Wigg, or Shailiha and Tyranny?"
The women's faces turned grim. "There is no word from them," Abbey answered. "But that does not mean that there is reason for alarm." Then she bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands.
Sensing trouble, Faegan leaned forward and peered through the latticework. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"
"I am sorry. There is no other way to say it. Lionel the Little
is dead."
A hush went over the crowd. Duvessa looked to Traax, who took her hand. Ox raged silently, his face red.
Stunned, Faegan sat back in his chair, staring out at nothing. Then he closed them. First Geldon, he thought, and now Lionel. No one on either side of the stone lattice said a word.
Finally Faegan balled his hands into fists, pounded on the arms of his chair, and opened his eyes. His entire body trembled with fury.
"Satine?" he whispered.
Abbey nodded. "We believe so. We won't be sure until you perform the necropsy. Before we left the palace, Sister Adrian conjured a preservative field around the body. Lionel's symptoms were the same as Glendon's-madness followed by apparent suicide. If it was Satine, she crept right by the Minion guards and somehow poisoned Lionel in his sleep."
Several more moments of silence passed.
"How did he die?" the wizard asked at last.
Abbey took a deep breath. "He hanged himself."
Uther began to laugh out loud. His jaw hardening, Faegan turned his deadly gaze toward the Valrenkian. Ottikar and the other warrior struggled to hold on to the prisoner as pandemonium erupted on both sides of the latticework and several free Minions tried to attack the Valrenkian.
"Stop it!" Faegan shouted. "Don't you see? We need him!"
Realizing that his raspy voice was being drowned out by the incensed warriors, the wizard extended one hand and sent an explosive bolt skyward, shooting between the stone bars. The warriors gradually calmed.
Faegan glared at them, then pointed at Uther.
"We need his knowledge of the maze!" he shouted. Then he leveled his iron gaze on the Valrenkian once more. "But once we are free," he added, "I just might hand him over to you."
Uther sneered haughtily at the wizard. "No, you won't! It's common knowledge that every member of the late Directorate took a vow against murder! Stop bluffing! It will do you no good!"
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