Aeolus gently cupped his tea in one hand. His eyes held a faraway look.
“Despite my earlier misgivings, it seems that you are right,” he added. “Someone-or something, as you describe this Darkling-has also mastered the gift. It takes a lifetime to do so. If what you say about him serving the Heretics is true, then they must have excellent teachers among them.”
“Not necessarily,” Wigg said. “Faegan has reason to believe that Xanthus was giftedK’Shari by Forestallment.”
Surprised again, Aeolus put down his teacup. “Do you mean to say that Forestallments exist?” he whispered. “The Directorate’s best minds always considered them myth! Even Faegan was unconvinced!”
“Oh, Forestallments exist,” Wigg answered. “We continue to unravel their secrets little by little. What can you tell us that might help? I fear we haven’t seen the last of Xanthus. Not only does he commandK’Shari, but the craft, as well.”
“I don’t understand,” Aeolus said. “If he was such a threat, then why didn’t you, Faegan, and Jessamay combine your gifts to kill him there and then?”
“Because by then he had already stolen the Paragon,” Wigg answered sadly. “We were attending a masquerade ball and didn’t have a ready cave water supply, so killing him meant also killing the stone. Normally I would have had some in a vial, hanging around my neck. But as I said, it was a masquerade-the vial was in my chambers. I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself for that blunder. It will never happen again.”
“I see,” Aeolus answered.
“Why do the plants die whenever Xanthus appears?” Abbey asked. “According to witnesses, the wind also calms, birds and insects stop singing, and rivers refuse to flow.”
“Because when he calls his gift he projects a stillness so overpowering that it literally affects the forces of nature,” Aeolus answered. “It is the same with me.”
“Did Satine commandK’Shari?” Wigg asked.
Aeolus shook his head. “She knew about the legend, but even she did not know that I commanded the gift. Had she stayed with me, I have little doubt that Satine would have been the first to whom I would have gladly imparted the needed training. She was that good.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Wigg asked.
“Only thatK’Shari is an amazingly potent discipline,” Aeolus answered, “one that can be used to either save life or to destroy it. Clearly, Xanthus is a destroyer. If you face him again, my friend, use only the craft. Even you will not be able to defeat him physically.”
Abbey scowled. “What do mean by that?”
Aeolus looked at Wigg. “They do not know?” he asked.
“No,” Wigg answered. “I had planned on telling them before we left here-provided that you agreed to see me.”
“I understand,” Aeolus answered.
Standing, Aeolus walked to one wall. With unimaginable speed he grasped a short sword hanging there. His arm a blur, he threw it end over end, straight at Wigg’s head.
Shailiha gasped. Even Tristan couldn’t summon such quickness. If Wigg couldn’t bring the craft soon enough, he would die where he sat.
Raising his arms, Wigg held them wide. Then they all heard a sharp slap. Shailiha’s mouth fell open.
Wigg had caught the sword blade between his hands. As though nothing had happened, he calmly laid it beside him on the floor. Relieved but incensed, Shailiha immediately sprang to her feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Aeolus.
“How dare you!” she shouted. “That’s the First Wizard sitting there! Had he not been able to summon the craft in time he would have been killed! I could have you strung up from a lamp pole for less!”
Wigg winced at the princess’s rude behavior. “Please sit down,” he said.
Confused by Wigg’s calm acceptance of all this, Shailiha reluctantly did as he asked.
Aeolus smiled. “Excitable, isn’t she?” he asked Wigg.
The First Wizard sighed. “As is her brother,” he answered. “You have no idea.”
“I also demand that one of you tell us why that just happened!” Tyranny exclaimed. “We didn’t come here to be attacked!”
“Wigg was never in danger,” Aeolus said. “Nor did he use the craft to save himself. You see, it wasn’t needed.”
“It wasn’t needed?”Shailiha protested. “Of course it was! No one is that fast!”
Wigg looked over at her. “Aeolus is right,” he said quietly. Standing, Wigg pulled back each robe sleeve. As the craft’s familiar glow surrounded him, then faded away, the three women couldn’t believe their eyes.
A serpent lay tattooed on Wigg’s right upper arm; a sword tattoo had materialized on his other. As the azure glow faded, the tattoos vanished. After rolling down his sleeves, Wigg sat down.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Shailiha simply stared at him. “Satine’s arms carried those same symbols!” she breathed. “They can mean only one thing-you’re also a graduate of the Serpent and the Sword!” Turning leftward, Shailiha glared at Abbey. “Did you know about this?” she demanded.
Pursing her lips, Abbey crossed her arms. “No,” she answered, “I did not. It seems a certain First Wizard has some explaining to do when we return to the palace.”
Shailiha looked back at Wigg. Sometimes it seemed that the longer she knew him, the less she understood him. Wizards and their infernal secrets!
“I don’t know which question to ask first,” she said to him. “Where, when, or why?”
“The ‘when’ took place several hundred years ago,” Wigg answered. “The Sorceresses’ War had recently been won. I had just returned from banishing the Coven upon the Sea of Whispers. I’m not ashamed to admit that those were emotional times for me-for all us wizards, in fact. During the Directorate’s early days we members made more than our share of mistakes. The newly formed Directorate had just ordered me to cast the traitorous Coven adrift forever. Failee, Succiu, Zabarra, and Vona-I can still see their defiant faces as they stood there on theResolve ’s pitching deck, just before I ordered them into that fragile skiff.
Pausing for a moment, Wigg scrubbed his face with his hands. Shailiha touched him on one arm.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You needn’t tell us if you would rather not.”
Wigg shook his head. “I knew this would be wrenching, but it was one of the reasons I brought you three here.” Collecting himself, he sat up a bit straighter.
“As I said, it was a difficult time for me,” he said. “Then I found Abbey and my happiness briefly returned. But when the Directorate foolishly voted to banish all the partial adepts to the countryside, I had another choice to ponder. I could either go with Abbey and start my life over, or stay on as a Directorate wizard and continue to serve the Vigors. I chose the second path. But before watching Abbey go I secretly granted her the time enchantments.”
Looking at the herbmistress, he finally produced a brief smile. “It was a decision that I never regretted,” he added softly. Smiling back at him, Abbey nodded her thanks.
“Anyway, by then Aeolus was not only a respected Directorate member but also a martial master in his own right,” Wigg added. “During that time I needed a newfound serenity that I couldn’t find in politics or in the craft. Aeolus agreed to teach me. For the next decade he trained me in the Redoubt, during whatever spare time we could muster.”
Wigg looked respectfully into Aeolus’ eyes. “I thank you for that,” he said. “It was you and your training that helped me to find my spirit again. When I saw Satine’s tattoos I realized that she was one of us. I was shocked, but I also knew that I needed to come and see you-not only for the Vigors, but for personal reasons as well.”
After taking a deep breath, Wigg continued. “I know how you came to feel about the craft, Aeolus, but times have changed. We must change with them. I don’t suppose that you could be enticed into joining the Conclave, could you? Our meeting table still has an empty chair-the one my daughter once held. Full-fledged Vigors wizards are few and
far between these days. We could surely use your help. Like Faegan and Jessamay, it would be good to have you at my side again.” Pausing for a moment, Wigg turned to look at Shailiha, then back to Aeolus.
“I do not presume to speak on the princess’s behalf,” he added, “but in theJin’Sai ’s continued absence I believe she would heartily accept your membership. The Vigors desperately need our services again. Since the Coven’s destructive return and subsequent defeat, our obstacles have been legion. All we hold dear is again in great peril.”
For several moments Aeolus looked at the floor. When he returned his eyes to Wigg’s, the four visitors could see how much he still respected the First Wizard.
“Thank you, Wigg,” Aeolus said. “But my life is here. If I accepted, what would happen to my school? I have over fifty male and female students. Some have devoted their entire adult lives to my teachings, and live in residence here with me. I simply can’t pack up and leave.”
For several moments the room went still. Wigg looked over at Shailiha. Understanding his intent, she smiled back, then returned her gaze to Aeolus.
“You could relocate the school to the palace,” she offered. “The Redoubt already hosts academies for the consuls’ gifted children and for the Redoubt acolytes. The Serpent and the Sword would make a welcome addition!”
Shailiha smiled broadly at her next thought. “From what I’ve seen, perhaps you and your students could even teach the Minions a thing or two about the combative arts!” she added. “That would be a scene worth watching!”
Tyranny smiled. “It would indeed,” she muttered under her breath.
A quizzical look came over Aeolus’ face. “I know about the Consuls’ Nursery,” he said. “But who are the Redoubt acolytes?”
Sighing, Wigg smiled. “Like I said, many things have changed.”
Thinking, Aeolus rubbed his chin. “I will consider your kind offer,” he said. “In the meantime, there is one way I might be able to help.”
“What do you have in mind?” Wigg asked.
“You said that Faegan has found the formula for grantingK’Shari directly to one’s blood signature?” he asked.
Wigg nodded.
“Amazing,” Aeolus said. “I know nothing about Forestallments. But it occurs to me that simply placing the spell into one’s blood might not be enough. K’Shari mastery is immensely complex; some purely physical training might also be needed to properly hone the gift. Should you grant it to someone’s blood, be sure to send him or her to me before sending them into battle. I would be honored to polish their technique.”
Wigg smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to the three women sitting by his side. “It’s time to go,” he said. “We have imposed on Aeolus’ hospitality long enough.”
Wigg came to his feet; Shailiha, Tyranny, and Abbey did the same. Wigg opened the sliding door and escorted the ladies into the hallway, then back to the school’s street entrance. Aeolus followed them. As Aeolus opened the front door he turned to face Wigg. The look on his face was thoughtful.
“If you can someday forgive me for your friends’ deaths at Satine’s hands, I might just accept that Conclave seat,” he said. “You’re right-times have changed, and we must change with them. Until then, journey safely, and give my regards to Faegan, Jessamay, and theJin’Sai. ”
For several long moments Wigg embraced Aeolus. Holding him by the shoulders, the First Wizard looked him in the eyes.
“You’re already forgiven,” he said, “just as I hope you can forgive me for breaking our accord. And the offer stands.”
Leaving the school, the four visitors walked to the carriage. After watching them board the coach and ride away, Aeolus shut the door, then walked back down the long hallway, entered the same room as before, and sat down on the straw mat. The school was quiet, the hour late.
Picking up his teacup, the martial master thought about his old friends, and what it might be like to serve on the Conclave.
CHAPTER XXXII
“BEFORE WE TELL YOU WHY WE BROUGHT YOU HERE, we must first explain Xanthus’ part in all this,” Hoskiko said to Tristan. Sitting back in her chair, she looked across the table at the Darkling. Tristan saw admiration in her eyes.
“Despite what you were led to believe, he is not evil,” she said, “at least not in his present form. When he returns to the Imperial Order they will probably kill him for failing to deliver you. He will tell them that you were lost to him in the raging Borderlands, but that story may not save him. Even so, he accepted this fate when he agreed to help us. As I said before, you owe him your life.”
Tristan again looked around the glistening chamber. He was quickly learning that the Crysenium was a maze of well-kept secrets, and his presence was the key that might finally unravel its many mysteries.
After looking into the Envoys’ faces, he cast his gaze back to Hoskiko. The prince had no reason to believe that she was lying to him. But Xanthus’ terrible atrocities made it impossible for Tristan to believe that the Darkling could somehow be his ally. He regarded Hoskiko skeptically.
“Please go on,” he said simply.
“Xanthus is a binary being. He was once completely human, and an officer of some rank in the Imperial Order. That is how he and Faxon came to know each other. His makeup was especially altered by the Heretics so that he might successfully bring you to them,” Hoskiko said. “As I told you, it was their intention to take you prisoner, thereby keeping you from your destiny. To help protect his human side and the Paragon’s life during his mission, the Heretics also granted himK’Shari. ”
Despite his august company, Tristan was becoming impatient. “With all due respect, some of this I already know,” he said.
Recognizing Tristan’s eagerness to learn, Hoskiko smiled. “What youdon’t know is that when the rebel Heretics at this table first approached us, they secretly brought Xanthus with them, and a plan was born,” she said. “Before sending him on his mission we drastically changed his blood signature rightward. This way we might convince him to doour bidding, rather than follow his original orders. Moreover, the atrocities he committed would be less extreme, yet also satisfy the Heretics’ expectations. Our idea worked.” Pausing for a moment, Hoskiko again looked at the Darkling.
“The Heretics would be closely watching his progress after he entered Eutracia, so he had to do exactly as they expected to maintain our charade,” she added. “Although the Heretics still believe that Xanthus is following their orders, he serves us. But as he went about his atrocities, the guilt consuming his human half became overpowering. Therefore he started flagellating his back. This was his doing, not ours. His reasons were twofold-he wished to pay a deeply felt penitence for the terrible things he was doing, and to trick the Heretics into believing that his self-torture was an act of ritual devotion to the Vagaries. Such rites of self-mutilation are not unheard of in the Heretic culture. It all had to be real, because the Heretics were watching his every move.”
Tristan looked across the table into Xanthus’ eyes. “You agreed to bring me here,” he whispered, “even when you knew that your original masters would likely put you to death?”
Bending forward a bit, Xanthus placed his hands flat atop the table. “Yes,” he answered. “The Vigors’ cause is too dear to allow one life to endanger it. I have done my part; now I have but to return to the Heretics and meet my fate. You will soon learn your role in this great undertaking. It will be far more difficult and dangerous than mine ever was. I humbly ask that you accept it and fulfill your destiny. Please do not let my death-and the deaths of those innocent Eutracians I was forced to kill-be in vain.”
As he realized how wrong he had been about Xanthus, Tristan turned to Faxon. “Must he be returned to the Heretics?” he asked. “Isn’t there some way that we can save him?”
Faxon shook his head. “Not and maintain our charade,” he answered. “As it is he must return soon, or his tardiness will arouse added suspicions. Wh
en he arrives without you at his side, the Imperial Order will be suspicious enough.”
“But if they enter his mind, won’t they learn everything anyway?” Tristan asked. “In the end, what purpose will all this subterfuge have served?”
“You forget that I am a high-ranking officer of the Imperial Order,” Faxon answered. “They trust me implicitly. When I was told by my superiors about their wish to bring you to them, Xanthus’ conversion became my idea. From the beginning, it was my plan to secretly bring him to Crysenium. When I take him back, I can help with his fate, but not much. Nor by then will I probably wish to do so. He will be their servant again, and a danger to our cause.”
“I don’t understand,” Tristan said. He turned quickly to look at Hoskiko then back to Faxon again. “Don’t you feel any guilt about creating him, only to use him then watch him die some horrible death?”
“We do,” Faxon answered. “But to ensure that our gambit works we must do even more to seal Xanthus’ fate. Before we allow Xanthus to return to the Heretics we will change his blood signature back to what it once was, then wipe his memory clean of everything we do not want the Heretics to learn. In their place we will provide him with an entirely new host of memories-those that support our subterfuge. In this the Borderlands’ appearance, although unexpected, will serve us well. Not only will your unfortunate wandering in the Borderlands explain his being overdue, but they will also provide a plausible explanation for your supposed death. Xanthus will tell them that you fell prey to a great sinkhole, and that your body was unrecoverable. At first they will believe that despite his best efforts, Xanthus simply failed. It wasn’t he who activated the Borderlands, after all. Wiping his memory clean will also protect Crysenium’s existence.”
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