Lowering his hands, Faegan sadly looked around. The enchantment for theIllendium ’s self-destruction had worked well. Although he had killed every Blood Viper aboard her, he felt little sense of accomplishment. Shouting out a new set of orders, he told his bearers to take him and Shailiha to the palace as quickly as he could.
From his place by the river’s edge, Khristos watched the unexpected explosion with mixed emotions. He had lost many vipers this night, and he had failed to take theIllendium for his own. But the Conclave he so hated had lost much more. Many of their warriors had been slaughtered; one Black Ship was destroyed, and fires still raged aboard the other. Had he also known that the woundedJin’Saiou lay near death, he would have judged the night a near total success. Smiling, he walked down the riverbank and entered the Sippora to join the rest of his forces waiting downstream.
Moments later he was gone.
CHAPTER XXXVI
AS TRISTAN FOLLOWED THE FOUR WOMEN DOWN THE elaborate hallway, his mind reeled with unanswered questions and tempting possibilities. Having lived his entire life in the royal palace, he was well acquainted with opulence. But that had been in Eutracia, and this was a different world. The farther he walked, the more he realized that nothing in his experience could have prepared him for Shashida.
The room in which he awakened was amazingly luxurious, and he guessed that it was only a brief taste of the splendor he would find elsewhere. The floor was made of solid onyx and the walls were built from an unfamiliar blue stone that sparkled with a life of its own. The bed had been fitted with sumptuous silk sheets, and a diaphanous canopy was stretched from its four marble posts. Fluted pilasters adorned the walls and an elaborate fountain graced the center of the room, its tumbling water creating a wonderfully soothing sound. Dappled sunshine streamed in through skylights in the gilded ceiling overhead.
After Tristan rose from the bed, the four women graciously asked that he follow them. On leaving the room, they began walking down a long hallway. The women had not told him what purpose this wondrous building served or where they were headed, only that he was being taken to their masters. As he walked, he was glad to realize that the dizzying effects of the vortex were gone and his eyesight had returned to normal. Eager to finally come face to face with the supreme masters of the Vigors, he dutifully followed the mysterious women onward.
Each of the women sent to fetch him was young and beautiful, with long black hair that hung down to her shoulders like strands of pure silk. Colorful long-sleeved embroidered robes wrapped their bodies and reached all the way to their ankles. Open-toed wooden thong sandals graced their feet, and their faces had been lightly brushed with a pale powder. Tristan found their appearance immensely attractive, and he admired their polite but commanding behavior.
The hallway down which they trod was opulent. The walls were white and the elaborately patterned carpet dark red, its luxurious fibers so thick that it seemed he was walking on soft grass. Golden candelabra graced the walls every few meters, and an enticing aroma of fresh-cut mint hung in the air. Tristan hoped to see more Shashidans along the way, but aside from himself and the four women, the hallway was deserted.
After a long walk they reached an intersection where eight hallways joined. On one side stood a pair of tall black lacquered doors, their intricately carved panels adorned with representations in gold of exotic birds and animals the likes of which Tristan had never seen. On reaching the doors, the four women turned and bowed.
The one who had addressed Tristan earlier stepped forward to look at him. Her large, dark brown eyes seemed full of mystery.
“They await you,” she said simply. “On behalf of all Shashidans, we welcome theJin’Sai into our midst. We have anticipated your coming for aeons.”
With a wave of one hand she called the craft, and the lacquered doors swung open. As they did, she stepped back among the other women, and they again bowed.
Still unsure of how to behave in the women’s presence, theJin’Sai bowed in return. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Eager to learn what lay beyond, he walked into the room, and the doors closed behind him. The moment he stepped into the magnificent chamber he knew that he was about to learn the answers to his many questions.
The room was large, about twenty meters square. In its center stood a magnificent round table fashioned from exotic wormwood. Twelve men and women sat there. Several more chairs stood empty.
Like the room where Tristan had awakened, this room had a high gilded ceiling pierced with skylights through which dappled sunshine streamed. The walls were of flecked alabaster, and the floor was made of highly polished interlocking hardwood strips. The entire far side of the room was an open colonnade, revealing a courtyard that held winding garden paths, exotic plants, meandering streams, and burbling fountains. Exotic paintings hung on the walls, along with ornate tapestries. Gold vases and other priceless decorative items also adorned the room, and crystalline wind chimes hanging in the garden trees sent a soothing melody into the chamber. It seemed apparent that this room served as a meeting place.
As if they were of one mind, the twelve strangers stood and bowed deeply to him. Tristan counted six men and six women. Each was dressed in an elaborate robe much like his own, with two exotic-looking swords held against their waists by silk sashes. The swords were unlike those he had seen on the wrecked ship, reaffirming that the armor and weapons he saw there had been Rustannican. Most of the people looked very old, with gray hair and deeply lined faces, but two of them looked his age.
Still unsure of the proper etiquette, Tristan bowed in return. As eleven of the people sat down, one of the older men remained standing. Their leader, Tristan guessed.
The man’s hair was stark white and pulled back from his forehead to form a short queue secured with a gold ornament. A large white mustache graced his upper lip, its ends drooping downward past his chin. The deep lines carved in his weathered face spoke of a fully experienced life. His body appeared muscular and lean, and his blue eyes gleamed with wisdom.
He was dressed differently from the others, his more elaborate clothing further suggesting his status as their leader. His magnificent silk robe was deep red with bright yellow cranes embroidered into its fabric. Over the robe he wore a sleeveless long black silk tunic, its wide, pointed shoulders extending past his body on either side. Like Tristan he wore dark socks with open-toed wooden thong sandals.
The two swords secured at his left hip were beautiful creations. The upper sword was short, and the lower one longer than its brother by about one-half its length. Each gently curved wooden scabbard was lacquered in black and adorned with intricately painted red butterflies resting on delicate tree branches. The swords’ oblong hilts were made of onyx, and their ivory handles were slim and intricately wound with black cord. In the spaces among the crisscrossed cords lay small, finely crafted gold ornaments that Tristan guessed would allow for a better grip and tell the sword’s owner when his hands were properly situated for fighting. As the man looked at Tristan, he smiled warmly.
“Welcome, Jin’Sai, ” he said reverently, his voice strong and firm as an old oak tree. “My name is Mashiro of the House of the Yellow Cranes. So that you can understand us, while in your presence we will speak only your native Eutracian dialect. Like your fellow countrymen we have chosen to recognize ourselves by mentioning our family house, even though those living in Rustannica have long since abandoned that custom. In the name of our people, we twelve humble Vigors mystics welcome you to Shashida. Collectively, you know us as the Ones Who Came Before. You have endured much to reach us, and you and your two friends are the first from your side of the world to do so. We are immensely grateful for the suffering that you have endured to help ensure the survival of the Vigors.”
Tristan was about to reply when the doors behind him swung open. Turning to look, he saw Wigg and Tyranny enter the room. Each of them was dressed as he was. When they stepped into the room, their faces quickly mirrored the same a
we and wonder that Tristan’s had shown when he first entered.
Relieved, he hurried toward them. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently.
The First Wizard and Tyranny nodded. “Yes,” Wigg answered for both of them, “but it took time to overcome the effects of the portal. I have never experienced such an overpowering use of the craft. When we awoke we were dressed in these clothes. Then some women escorted us here. It also seems that my pain is gone and my burns are fully healed.”
After looking around the room, Wigg’s eyes settled on the twelve people at the great table. “Are we in Shashida?” he asked reverently. “Are you the Ones Who Came Before?”
Mashiro bowed. “You may call us that,” he answered, “although we prefer another name for our humble group. You have our apologies, my friends. We understand that you are unaccustomed to our higher uses of the craft, but once you reached the channel’s dead end, our portal was the only safe way to help you complete your journey. It is much like the portal your wizard called Faegan uses, but ours is infinitely more powerful. We also took the liberty of treating the First Wizard’s injuries.”
“You know who we are?” Wigg breathed. “How can that be?”
Mashiro smiled again. “In truth, we know all about you,” he answered, “and we are intimately familiar with the many trials you have suffered. There is much to discuss, and at long last your questions will be answered. Please come and sit at our modest table.”
The three visitors did as they were asked, with Tyranny sitting on one side of Tristan and Wigg on the other. Tristan looked over at Tyranny to see that for the first time since he had known her, she seemed truly dumbstruck.
As Mashiro took his seat, Tristan wanted to pose question after question, but he realized there was no hurry. He had finally reached Shashida, and his heart told him that everything he so hungered to know would come to light soon enough. Forcing back his need to speak, he looked around the table.
Regardless of age or gender, the twelve ultimate masters and mistresses of the Vigors were immensely imposing. Mystics like Wigg, Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay all projected a sense of calm power. The Ones were also august, Tristan realized, but far more so. Ten of them looked immensely old, like Mashiro, but one woman and one man looked more like Tristan’s age. As Tristan focused his attention on the younger-looking woman sitting across from him, he took a sharp breath.
She was a truly arresting creature. Parted on one side, her hair was long, straight, and black, lying atop her shoulders in undulating waves. Her face was sensual, with even features and a strong jawline. Sleek eyebrows rested above dark brown irises that lay partly hidden beneath their upper lids, and her lips were full and finely drawn. Rather than cheapening her natural beauty, her faint blue eyeshadow and deep red lipstick accentuated her loveliness. The light blue robe that crisscrossed the swell of her breasts was embroidered with graceful images of multi-colored flower blossoms.
“Forgive me, Jin’Sai, ” Mashiro offered. “I must introduce you and your friends to the other members of theChikara Inkai. Because we usually speak an advanced dialect of Old Eutracian, our names will no doubt sound odd to you.”
“This group is called theChikara…Inkai?” Tristan asked.
Mashiro nodded. “In your dialect it means Vigors Council. Just as you have your Conclave and the Rustannican Empire has itsPon Q’tar, we have ourChikara Inkai, or simply theInkai. One or more members of the council can also be referred to asInkai. The people you see here are the world’s greatest Vigors mystics, duly elected by the Shashidan populace to oversee the nation and to conduct the War of Attrition. Shashida is divided into ten provinces that we govern. Each of the people here represents one such area, and the designs you see on their robes portray something for which their prefectures are particularly well known.”
As Mashiro introduced eachInkai member, the names did seem strange to the three visitors. When the time came to name the beautiful woman sitting directly across from Tristan, Mashiro called her Hoshi of the House of Lotus Blossoms, and he said that she was the supreme commander of the Shashidan armies. The young man seated beside her was introduced as the first admiral of the Shashidan armada.
At first Tristan was surprised that younger people held such important posts. Then he reminded himself that in the maze that was the craft, one’s perceived age was meaningless. When Hoshi was introduced to theJin’Sai, she bowed slightly, but she did not speak.
As if suddenly embarrassed, Mashiro’s expression darkened. “Forgive me, Jin’Sai, ” he said. “You and your fellow Conclave members must be hungry and thirsty. Would you like to dine as we talk?”
Not wanting to delay the conversation, Tristan shook his head. “We can eat later,” he answered. “But we could do with some wine, if it please you.”
Smiling, Mashiro nodded. “We have something better,” he said.
Mashiro clapped his hands and three servants appeared through a side door. Two men and one woman entered, each dressed in a silk robe and bearing a silver tray laden with silver pitchers and handleless cups. As they served everyone, Tristan noticed that the liquid they poured was steaming. Tristan picked up his cup and smelled its contents to find its aroma deeply pungent and unlike anything that he had smelled before. After everyone was served, the servants left the room as swiftly and quietly as they had come.
Tristan looked over at Mashiro. “Might I ask what this is?” he inquired.
Mashiro smiled. “It is calledumake, ” he said. “It is a distilled spirit that is laced with seasonings and best served hot. One must be careful of its potency, especially at first. Our blood is accustomed to umake, but yours is not.”
Tristan, Wigg, and Tyranny each gingerly took a sip of the heady liquid. Closing his eyes, Wigg swallowed hard. Despite her love of spirits, Tyranny coughed outright, producing smiles from some of theInkai. But Tristan, accustomed as he was to drinking harsh Minion akulee, found the brew to his liking.
Putting down his cup, Mashiro looked at the three visitors. To Tristan’s surprise, theInkai leader’s expression had grown serious.
“Before we tell you of our world, we must inform you of recent developments in Eutracia,” he said. “What you are about to hear will disturb you, but that cannot be helped.”
Immediately concerned for those he left behind, Tristan stiffened. “How can you know what happens on our side of the world?” he asked. “Are you in communion with one of my mystics?”
Mashiro sadly shook his head. “No, Jin’Sai, ” he answered. “At this moment none of your mystics possesses the needed forestallment. Like thePon Q’tar, we have an Oracle in our service. What the Orb of the Vigors sees, she also sees. It has been this way since the earliest days of the War of Attrition.”
Intensely interested, Wigg leaned forward. “What is an Oracle?” he asked.
Mashiro smiled. “I appreciate your curiosity, but there will be ample time to discuss matters of the craft,” he said. “First you need to hear us out. I am sorry to tell you that one of your Conclave members has been wounded and another has been killed. You have our deepest condolences.”
Tristan felt his stomach lurch. Shailiha, he feared. After quickly turning to look at Wigg and Tyranny, he cast a worried gaze back toward Mashiro.
“Who are they?” he breathed.
“TheJin’Saiou has been gravely injured, but she lives,” Mashiro answered. “The Viper Lord attacked your capital city of Tammerland. She was struck in the face by viper venom and blinded in one eye. Of greater worry is that the venom still runs through her bloodstream. Your wizards Faegan and Aeolus are tending to her as we speak, but her fate remains uncertain.”
Heartbroken, Tristan buried his face in his hands and fought back his tears. After several quiet moments passed he took another much-needed swallow of umake, then looked back at Mashiro.
“Who was killed?” he asked, his voice little more than a raspy whisper.
Mashiro sadly turned his gaze toward Wigg. “Abbey of the Ho
use of Lindstrom died while fighting off the Blood Vipers,” he said quietly. “We are deeply sorry, First Wizard. EachInkai member knows how much you loved her.”
For several moments Wigg’s eyes widened and his jaw worked up and down, but no words came. As his eyes welled with tears, he suddenly cried out and reached for Tristan, burying his face in theJin’Sai ’s shoulder. Tristan held the ancient wizard as Wigg’s tears came freely and his body shuddered with the terrible news. Stunned by what he had just heard, Tristan turned to look at Mashiro.
“What of my sister?” he asked. “Will she live?”
“That is unknown,” a female voice said from across the table. “It is only because of her extraordinary blood quality that she still clings to life. But hope remains, however dim.”
Tristan looked across the table at the woman who had just spoken. He remembered Mashiro introducing her as Midori of the House of Snowy Mountains. Her white hair was long and her green eyes kind, and her dark brown robe was embroidered with snowy mountain peaks resembling the Tolenkas. Like Mashiro, expressive lines creased her ancient-looking face.
Trying to collect himself, Wigg looked blankly around with tear-filled eyes. He still trembled, but now the cause was pure rage.
“Did Abbey suffer?” he asked.
“I will not lie to you, First Wizard, because that is not our way,” Midori answered sadly. “Yes, she suffered before dying. Even so, you can be assured that the vipers that killed her suffered far more before your Minion warriors ended their lives. But I regret that there is more to tell you. We possess these facts because I am the Oracle to whom Mashiro referred earlier.”
“What is an Oracle?” Tristan asked again.
“Aeons ago and long before the War of Attrition started, twin baby girls of right-leaning blood were born here in Shashida,” Mashiro answered. “Like your wizard Faegan, they were born already possessing a very rare gift of the craft. In Faegan’s case, it is his gift of Consummate Recollection. Here on this side of the world, the twin girls were born as seers, or Oracles. What the Orb of the Vigors overlooks, the Oracles also see. But their visions do not occur constantly. They happen only when an important use of it is made, for it seems that the orbs are drawn to such occurrences.”
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