Reaching out, Shailiha took up one of the parchments on the table that held a blood signature. Sliding it beneath the tripod, she squared it up as best she knew how, then looked down again. Sure enough, she could see a slight tendency to the right. She raised her face back up to Wigg.
"And you have said that both my signature and Tristan's lean to the right," she mused.
"Correct," the lead wizard answered.
"And Wulfgar's blood signature leans as far to the left as you have ever seen."
"Regrettably, also correct. And his blood assay is one and one-half-equal to yours and second only to your brother's, which has a blood-quality rating of one. Wulfgar's blood, given these particular traits, is most probably the most dangerous in the world."
"Is there a copy of his signature registered here?" she suddenly asked.
Nodding, Wigg caused the appropriate drawer to slide open. But this time, instead of only the parchment floating over to the table, the entire drawer did. As it landed, Shailiha could see that it contained not only a copy of a blood signature, but a lock of sandy-colored hair bound together with a red ribbon.
She picked up the lock of hair. "This came from Wulfgar, didn't it?" she asked.
Wigg nodded. "It was taken from him the morning of the day your mother gave him up," he replied softly. "It was one of her most prized possessions, and she felt it rightly belonged here, alongside his blood signature."
"Wulfgar is the reason why the R'talis are being taken, isn't it?" she asked. "They are searching for him."
"Yes," Wigg said, "we believe so. In truth, they may already have found him."
"But why also take the unendowed?" Celeste asked, looking over at her father. "Or the endowed women, for that matter? If Wulfgar is the only one they seek, then what they're doing doesn't make any sense."
"That is still unknown," Faegan said. "But considering all of the effort it takes, they must have a reason."
"Why Farpoint?" Shailiha mused quietly.
"What?" Wigg asked.
"Why Farpoint?" Shailiha repeated. "Why would Krassus concentrate his search there, and not elsewhere?"
"We don't know that he has," Wigg answered. "But your question is a good one. For the moment, we can only suspect that Nicholas told him to search there, just before he died."
"And where did the demonslavers come from?" Celeste asked. "From what everyone tells me, their like has never been seen in Eutracia before now."
"Another unknown," Faegan answered. "But from what the princess and I saw that night in Farpoint, I think it safe to assume that though they appear to be a product of magic, they have no command of it. Much like the Minions, they represent only a blunt instrument-one that is most useful when wielded by others. They may be what remained of the consuls, mutated by Krassus. Or they may have sprung from another source entirely-conjured, perhaps. Be that as it may, it is abundantly clear that they serve only him." He paused and sighed. "Unfortunately, only time will answer your questions. And as I said, time is not on our side."
Something suddenly occurred to Shailiha. "Can Abbey locate Wulfgar?" she asked quickly. "If he has already been captured, perhaps he and Tristan are together."
Wigg raised an eyebrow. "Well done," he answered. He turned to Abbey. "Can you view Wulfgar from the blood dried on this certificate, or from the lock of his hair? I'm afraid it's all we have of him." He passed them over to her.
Abbey looked intently at them. "Perhaps," she answered. "How old are these samples?"
"Thirty-five years," Wigg answered.
Abbey sighed. "I won't know until I try. Blood tends to lose its vibrancy far more quickly than hair, so the latter will afford the better chance of success."
Gently touching the locket that hung around her neck, she gave Wigg a coy smile. A slight blush spread across the lead wizard's face.
"But as I said before, all of this is academic until I have a sufficient quantity of the right ingredients," she added.
Wigg looked at Faegan. "Clearly, our first priority must be to secure from Shadowood the goods Abbey needs to construct her gazing flame."
"There is something else that must be done," Shailiha said adamantly. "I want to lead a party of Minions to Farpoint. We'll turn the city upside down, if we have to, to find my brother and bring him home-if he's still there." Sitting back in her chair, she angrily folded her arms over her breasts.
Wigg looked at Faegan. They had been expecting something like this from her, and they also knew that under no circumstances could they allow it. In the first place, should Tristan already be dead, it was vital that they not put Shailiha in harm's way. And second, it might well be exactly what Krassus wanted: the opportunity to capture the second of the Chosen Ones, and perhaps to take the palace, which would be far too vulnerable without sufficient Minion guards to protect it.
Taking a deep breath, Wigg placed his hands flat on the table and calmly explained to the princess why they could not go through with her plan. As he did, it was easy to see the anger and frustration build in her face once more.
For a long time she sat there seething. Looking down, she gently touched the gold medallion lying around her neck. Then she finally spoke.
"Very well," she said softly. "But I refuse to sit here and do nothing while my brother is out there somewhere, and in danger." She looked at Abbey, and the herbmistress felt Shailiha's hazel eyes go straight through her.
"Give me a list of things you need, and I'll go to Shadowood myself," the princess said. "I've already been there once-the gnomes know me. The journey is safe enough. Even you and Faegan can agree with that much, I should think!"
"And I will go with her," Celeste announced enthusiastically. "Together we will be stronger."
A slight smile came to Shailiha's lips.
"Absolutely not!" Wigg thundered. He glared at the two women as if they were completely mad. The telltale vein in his right temple had begun to throb again.
"I can use my gift to protect us, if need be," Celeste said quickly. "And if we employ Faegan's portal, we won't be gone long at all. What could be safer?" Smiling, she mischievously tugged the sleeve of her father's robe-a gesture she knew always softened his heart.
"You'll never even miss us, especially given the fact that you now have an old friend here to keep you occupied, so to speak," she added coyly. At that reference to Abbey, Faegan grinned widely.
Wigg blushed, and the vein in his temple throbbed even harder. "You still do not know how to use your gift effectively!" he argued.
"Really?" Celeste asked. "I already used it once to save your life, didn't I?"
Wigg looked beseechingly at Faegan. "And what say you to this madness?" he asked.
Faegan smiled. "Actually, I say 'yes.' Abbey and I will send along a list of our needs to Lionel the Little, the caretaker at my mansion, along with a letter of permission from me to give what we need to the ladies. You will be bringing back only dried herbs, not fresh ones. If time permits, we may send you back for fresh herbs later."
"Why do you want only dried herbs?"
"With rare exceptions, herbs must be dried before they can be of use in the craft," Faegan answered. "And unlike the process used by ordinary cooks, the drying of herbs for magic can be long and meticulous in its stages-and our needs are immediate. In addition, dried herbs are far easier to mix. I'm sure once you reach Shadowood, Lionel will be happy to tell you more. He can be amazingly talkative."
For the first time in days, Shailiha grinned.
"Very well," Wigg said reluctantly. "But this little errand of yours should take no more than a single day. If the two of you do not come home on the appointed hour, I am coming to Shadowood myself to get you. Understood?"
Sighing, the lead wizard sat back in his chair and looked at the two women who had just bested him.
CHAPTER
Fourteen
T he woman on Wulfgar's bed looked him up and down in his robe, her eyes filled with hate.
"I see you're alrea
dy dressed for the occasion," she said nastily. "Just do whatever you want to me, and get it over with." Her voice was defiant.
Wulfgar looked at her. Despite the fact that her sea voyage had made her thin, she remained beautiful. Dark ringlets curled down over her breasts. Her taffeta gown-no doubt supplied by Janus-was stunning, and the yellow complemented her deep blue eyes. Given her situation, he might have expected her to cower before him. But she did not. Only anger showed. He immediately found himself respecting her for it, and wanting to know more about her.
"No harm will befall you here," he said quietly. "I'm a slave, just like you."
She let go a short, derisive laugh. "Don't lie to me, as well as abuse me." She looked briefly around the room and then shook her head. "No slave has quarters such as these."
Taking another step, Wulfgar pulled down the left shoulder of his robe. At first she recoiled, but then she saw the brand-the exact duplicate of her own. Her mouth dropped, and she began to relax a little.
"We may have to be slaves for them, but we don't have to be for one another," he added gently. He gestured to the silver table full of food. When he did so, her eyes greedily followed his.
"Would you like something to eat?" he asked. "You look very hungry."
She nodded, but it was abundantly clear that she wasn't ready to trust him.
Sensing that she might feel less threatened out on the spacious balcony, Wulfgar walked over to the breakfast cart and pushed it out into the sun. Sitting down in one of the upholstered chairs, he gazed out over the ever-restless ocean.
"Come and eat," he said casually. "I promise not to harm you."
She stood tentatively and walked to the balcony. After a cautious look at him, she stared straight down over the balcony wall. Then she raised her eyes and looked out to the west, toward Eutracia, and tears began to form. For some time she stood still, the only movement the gentle swaying of her ringlets in the salty sea breeze.
"Please sit down," Wulfgar said. He fixed a generous plate of food and handed it to her. Before she had even sat down, she snatched it from him and then bent over her prize protectively, the way a starving animal might, tearing into it as though she hadn't eaten for a lifetime. Smiling slightly, Wulfgar waited. As she continued to look warily at him in between bites of cheese, warm rolls, and fruit, Wulfgar poured her a cup of tea. She took it from him greedily. Still trying to gain her trust, he smiled again.
"What is your name?" he asked. "Where are you from?"
"I am Serena," she answered cautiously. Another bite of roll went quickly into her waiting mouth. "Of the House of Winslow."
"Winslow?" Wulfgar asked. She nodded.
"From Farpoint?"
Another nod.
Uncrossing his legs, Wulfgar leaned forward in his chair and looked intently into her face. "Is your father by chance Simon Winslow, the animal healer?"
Surprised, she stopped chewing for a moment. "Yes," she answered. Then her eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"
"I know Simon well," he said, smiling. "We do business. His practice is on the west side of town, is it not? On Baylor Street. I take horses there whenever I am unable to cure them myself. Your father is very good at what he does-the best in the city, as far as I am concerned. My parents are Jason and Selene, of the House of Merrick."
Finally starting to believe, she stopped chewing and put her plate down for a moment. Her eyes searched his face. "The Merrick Stables?" she whispered incredulously.
"Yes," he answered. "I am their son, Wulfgar."
She relaxed a little. "My father has spoken often of you," she said. "He respects you and Jason greatly."
Wishing he could talk to her forever, a sudden, darker thought crossed Wulfgar's mind. Standing and walking from the balcony, he went into the bedroom to fetch the hourglass Janus had left behind. It was the only gauge he had to tell him when the painted freak and his monsters would return. When Serena saw it again, her face hardened.
"Why are we here?" she asked. "And how is it that you are being treated so differently from the rest of us?"
"I don't know," he answered. "They made a great fuss over me when they took my blood at the pier, and then I was immediately brought here. They are waiting for someone called Krassus to arrive. Apparently he will tell me more." He thought for a moment.
"Tell me," he said. "How much of this building have you seen? Did you notice any way out?"
"I'm sorry, but I saw no exits," she answered honestly. "And I viewed little, compared to the gigantic size of this place. I have heard some of the slavers refer to this structure as the 'Citadel.' All of us with this R'talis mark, the men and women alike, are kept in gigantic cages. They give us just enough food and water to keep us alive. New R'talis prisoners arrive every day. We have no idea where the people with the other kind of brand are being held, or even if they still live. Every morning Janus and his slavers come and take a different selection of us away. Those taken never return. It is all very strange."
Wulfgar looked at the hourglass. More than half of the contents of the top globe had already spilled down.
"What happened this morning?" he asked.
"Janus came to us early. I now know that it was to select one of the women for you," she said ashamedly. "But none of us knew that then. We thought that he was simply taking more of us away. When he chose me, I was terrified. He had me taken to other quarters, rather like these. This gown was laid out on the bed, and there was a room for bathing." Then her face lowered.
"He watched the entire time as I bathed myself and changed into this dress," she whispered. "All the while he was smiling, and clinking those strange spheres of his in one hand. It sent shivers down my spine. Then he and his slavers brought me here. Along the way I saw many dark hallways, lit by torches, and a very large, open courtyard. But most of the time was spent navigating stairways. The walk was very long, and hundreds of demonslavers filed by us in the halls. I also saw a few of the men in the dark blue robes. I can tell you that this place, this Citadel as they call it, is very well guarded."
Wulfgar's heart fell. If there was any way to escape, he still hadn't found it.
"There was something else about my walk here," she added softly, taking him away from his thoughts. "Something horrible."
"What?" he asked anxiously.
Serena closed her eyes. "The screaming," she whispered.
"Please go on," he said. He could tell she was upset, and a part of him hated having to press her further.
"One of the halls we went down was lined with huge marble doors," she said, shaking her head. "From the other side came horrible, insane screaming, from men and women alike. It went on and on, until we finally rounded the corner and it faded away. It didn't seem to bother Janus at all." She paused to wipe away a tear. "I can't begin to imagine what was going on behind those doors."
Silence passed for a time. When Serena felt like talking again, they spoke of Farpoint and told each other more about their families. They ate a bit more, and sipped more tea.
When Wulfgar turned to look at the hourglass, he saw that very little time remained. He looked into Serena's eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked urgently.
For a moment she hesitated, then seemed to decide. "Yes," she finally said.
"Good," he answered back. "You were brought here to please me. And Janus said that if you did not, he would punish you. I can't allow that to happen."
"Come with me!" he ordered. Then he stood and led her back into the bedroom, where he pushed her gently onto the bed.
Going back to the balcony, he retrieved the hourglass and replaced it on the table in the bedroom where Janus had left it. Then he pushed the food cart back into the room. Hurrying back to the bed, he sat down next to her and looked into her eyes.
"If you want to survive this day, you must do as I tell you," he ordered. "Stand up!"
Wulfgar quickly pulled the bedspread and silk sheets apart and purposely tangled them. Then he mussed up the pillows. "Turn around!" he
ordered.
To her surprise, he quickly began unlacing the back of her gown. After it was partially undone, he whirled her around to face him. Then he grasped the bodice of her gown with both hands and tore it down the front, partially exposing her breasts. Ordering her to lift first one foot then the other, he removed both her slippers and tossed them aside. He ran his hands through her ringlets, making a mess of them. Then he did something even more unexpected.
Reaching down, he quickly captured her right hand tightly in his. Then, before she could protest, he placed her fingernails hard against his left cheek and scratched himself. Drops of blood began running from the three scrapes, and he purposely did not wipe them away.
Horrified, Serena looked up into his face. Tears came to her eyes once more. Taking her by the shoulders, Wulfgar shook her, trying to get her to focus on what must be done. He felt her suddenly go limp, as though she had almost given up.
"Listen to me!" he whispered. "Your life depends on it! The bolt on the other side of the door will slide open at any moment. When it does, I'm going to kiss you. Kiss me back like you mean it! Don't stop until I do, and then let me do all the talking! Be surprised by nothing I do or say! Do you understand?"
Slowly, the strength he had first seen in her eyes came back. She nodded.
Wulfgar took her into his arms and held her tightly. Untying the sash of his robe, he let it fall open, pressing his naked body against her. He tried as best he could to give her a smile of encouragement.
Turning to look at the hourglass, they both saw that the last few grains of sand were sliding into the lower globe. For several moments the room went silent, the only sounds the beating of their hearts and the waves crashing on the rocky shore below.
Right on time, the bolt on the other side of the double doors began to scratch its way across. Wulfgar turned to look into Serena's eyes a final time. They both held their breath.
Just as the doors opened a crack, he bent her deeply beneath him and put his mouth down on hers.
The Scrolls of the Ancients tcobas-3 Page 16
