The Fifth Sorceress, page 54
For a long moment Faegan stared out into space. ‘You said that the prince also played a part,’ he whispered eventually. ‘Tristan, what was it that you did?’ He turned, and his gray eyes seemed to be looking into the prince’s very soul. Tristan had the impression that Faegan was asking not only to learn about the death of his daughter, but for another reason as well. But the prince had no idea what that reason might be.
‘During Wigg’s application of the noose she continued to struggle, and I knew that the only answer was for her to die. I finished her with my dreggan,’ Tristan said simply. He felt sorry for Faegan, but at the same time was not ashamed of what he had done. The woman had been partly responsible for the slaughter of his entire family, and he would kill her again in an instant, if necessary. Faegan or no Faegan.
Faegan cast his gray eyes up to the dreggan and baldric that hung over the back of the prince’s chair. ‘Is this the sword?’
‘Yes.’
‘The same one that killed your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the same one you hope to use to kill the Coven and Kluge?’
‘Yes.’
Faegan lowered his head and closed his eyes as if lost in time for a moment. Without opening them again, he began to speak. ‘ “And the Chosen One shall take up three weapons of his choice and slay many before reading the Prophecies and coming to the light,” ’ he said.
‘A quote from the Vagaries?’ Wigg asked, puzzled.
‘Yes,’ Faegan said, looking at the dreggan as it hung peacefully behind the prince. ‘I can only assume that the second weapon mentioned is the collection of knives that hangs behind his right shoulder. But as to what the third one shall be, only time will tell. The Vagaries make occasional mention of many things that will come to pass. But only the Prophecies will tell Tristan the course of action he is to take. And only he is to read them.’
Faegan took both of the prince’s hands in his and looked at the angry red scars on his palms for what seemed to be a long time. ‘It is true, each of us carries his own kinds of scars. You, I am afraid, will be subject to a great many more before it is your turn to rest. As regards my daughter, the one you knew as Natasha, I forgive both you and Wigg for what you did. It was necessary, and in truth, despite how much I loved my Emily, Natasha was as far removed from me as any of the sorceresses could have been. I prefer to believe that the Emily I knew died that day in Florian’s Glade, despite what I now know to be the truth.’
Tristan was about to speak when one of the gnomes knocked on the door of the hallway from which they had entered the room.
‘Yes, Michael?’ Faegan asked.
Michael the Meager, the gnome elder, was about the same size as Shannon the Small, but appeared to be much older. Bald and rotund, he stood at the door holding a strange box with several holes in it. His face was intelligent, his manner sincere.
‘Begging your pardon, Master,’ he began, ‘but another has just come. We thought you would want to see it right away.’ After a nod from Faegan, Michael the Meager walked the box into the room and set it on the table in front of the crippled wizard. Tristan shot a quick, questioning look at Wigg, but it was evident the Lead Wizard was also puzzled about the strange container that lay on the table between them.
Faegan indicated to Michael to proceed. The gnome opened the top of the box, reached in, and produced a sleek-looking gray bird. Its wings were long and tapered, and it seemed to be quite content in the hands of the gnome, as if well accustomed to being handled. He automatically looked to the bird’s leg and saw that a scroll of oilcloth was wrapped around it; also, a cylindrical object had been tied around the bird’s breast with a leather string. One of Faegan’s enchanted pigeons, Tristan realized. A note from Geldon.
As if reading his mind, Faegan looked at Tristan and said, ‘Yes, it is what you think. The whistle tied to the bird makes a sound as it wings through the air to us, keeping flying predators away.’ He looked down at the pigeon and gave it an unexpected, short kiss on the top of its head. ‘This is the fastest of them,’ he said seriously. ‘The message must be important for Geldon to have risked this particular bird.’
Faegan untied the oilcloth from the pigeon’s leg and unwrapped it to reveal the parchment hidden inside. It was rolled into a scroll, and red sealing wax rejoined the end of the note to itself. Faegan quickly broke the wax seal, unrolled the note, and began to read.
Hungry for a word, a scrap of information, anything that he might learn about his sister, Tristan tried hard to decipher the look in the crippled wizard’s eyes. But as he did so, his heart sank. He watched Faegan’s hopeful expression change rapidly to one of extreme worry and concern. Faegan then raised his eyes from the note and looked at the prince. ‘I think you had best read this for yourself,’ he said sadly.
Tristan eagerly snatched the note from the hands of the wizard and barely noted the odd, rather exotic handwriting as his eyes tore across the page:
Master Faegan,
I wish with all of my heart that there was some other way to inform you of this, but what we have feared most has come to pass. Princess Shailiha has finally been turned. The last of the three Chimeran Agonies have successfully rid her of her past life, and she now believes herself to be one of the Coven. In fact, in many ways she has quickly become the worst of them all. To the delight of the others, she has already committed several acts of voluntary depravity. Her hunger knows no bounds in its quest for both the Blood Communion and the Reckoning, and her thirst for her training to begin as a sorceress is without equal. Mention is often made of her soon becoming their leader. Her unborn could come at any time, another innocent of endowed blood for the sorceresses to corrupt.
You told me that once there was a fifth sorceress, Failee would need nine days to mentally prepare for the Communion. I can only assume that at least three have passed since the releasing of this bird. That leaves only six. Time is of the essence.
As you have told me, the possibility is great that instead of being performed correctly, the Reckoning may be compromised and the entire world may perish. After 300 years of slavery, I must confess that sometimes I do not know which of the two outcomes I would prefer.
I await your word. Whatever you choose to do, Master, it must be soon.
Geldon
Speechless, Tristan dropped the note to the table in front of Wigg and rose from his chair, once again walking to the open balcony doors that faced the Sea of Whispers. Shailiha is a sorceress of the Coven, he thought in disbelief. All is lost. Even if we could get to her, there is no way to stop what she is doing, or what she has become. Once I thought that if I went to her and she was at least still one of us, we would have a chance. But not now. Her torture began the instant she watched her husband murdered on that dais. And although she does not know it, her torture will now continue for all of eternity. He wiped a tear away from one eye. Only six days left. No one other than the sorceresses has ever sailed farther than fifteen days into that sea. And even worse, we have no way of knowing how long the complete journey takes.
The sound of Wigg’s commanding voice brought Tristan’s mind back into the dining room. He turned to see that the Lead Wizard had apparently read the note and was handing it back to Faegan. ‘What is it that Failee must do to prepare herself for the Blood Communion?’ Wigg asked. ‘Geldon’s note speaks of nine days.’
Scowling, Faegan worriedly rubbed his hands together. ‘She will go into virtual seclusion, except for making a daily visit to the place in the Recluse where the Blood Communion is to take place. It is she who must call the light from the sky that passes through the stone, thus beginning the process. The preparation of the incantation is very complex, and demands total concentration for that number of days before she is able to call forth the light.’ He looked over at Tristan.
‘I tend to forget that the only members of the Coven you have actually seen are Succiu and my daughter Emily, or as you knew her, Natasha. I know you have witnessed some of the evil that they are capable of. But make no mistake, even though you are the Chosen One. Despite what you have seen from Succiu, she is nothing compared to Failee. Not only is Failee the most powerful of them because of her mastery of the Vagaries, but she is also quite mad, and is largely the cause of all of this. Without her, there would have been no Coven, and no other sorceresses to follow her.’ At these words, Wigg’s countenance became quite dark, and Tristan made a mental note to ask the usually secretive Lead Wizard to tell him more about the history of the Coven one day. That is, he reflected, if we have many more days left.
Wigg stood, walked to the window where the prince was standing, and put an affectionate hand on Tristan’s shoulder. ‘I see no way to continue,’ he said quietly. ‘I know this is not what you wanted to hear, but it is in Shadowood that our journey apparently ends. The Sea of Whispers is probably much more than fifteen days’ sail, even if we knew the secret to getting across. And we don’t. I fear, without help, that we have failed. I can see no way to get to Shailiha, and that is obviously what must be done.’ Tears were starting to come to his eyes. ‘I have failed you, Tristan. And your father. Please forgive me, but I see no way that our quest can be accomplished.’
‘You were always too much of a pragmatist, Wigg,’ Faegan suddenly said from his chair at the end of the table. The strange, dark blue cat was once again in his lap. ‘That is why I became the more powerful of the two of us. Sometimes you just have to let your imagination flow.’ He smiled at them both as he stroked the contented cat.
‘What are you trying to say?’ Wigg asked, his infamous left eyebrow arched.
‘I can send you to Parthalon. Both of you. Immediately. And I suggest you let me, because each second that ticks by is one more second closer to the Communion.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Tristan demanded. He walked back over and sat down. Wigg followed. ‘If there is a way to get to Parthalon, I suggest you tell us right now.’
Faegan relaxed and took a deep breath. ‘Listen carefully, both of you, to what I am about to say. There is a portal that can be summoned, but only by me. Even Failee does not know of it. Remember when I said that she does not possess all of the teachings of the Vagaries?’ He sat back in his chair, still holding Nicodemus. ‘This portal I refer to is just that – part of the teachings she still knows nothing of. Had she suspected such a thing could exist, I would have been dead hundreds of years ago.’ He smiled. ‘By the way, it is also the reason that Nicodemus is blue. Think to yourself, Tristan,’ he asked, pursing his lips. ‘Have you ever seen a blue cat before?’
‘What in the name of the Afterlife are you talking about?’ Tristan snarled. ‘You talk the way a drunkard walks – in every direction save the one in which he should truly be going! And as far as your cat is concerned, I doubt that very little could surprise me anymore. Certainly nothing that involves a wizard.’
Faegan raised an eyebrow at Wigg. ‘Stubborn, isn’t he?’
‘More than you could ever know,’ Wigg returned. ‘But if there truly is a quicker way to Parthalon, we must know of it now.’
Faegan smiled. ‘Very well. Tristan, I’m sure you remember me speaking of an aura that surrounded you at your birth. What color did I say it was?’
‘Azure.’
‘When Wigg killed the screaming harpy that day in the palace courtyard, what color was the wizard’s cage that he employed?’
‘Again, azure.’
‘And when Wigg was forced to kill Emily, what was the color of the wizard’s noose?’
Tristan narrowed his eyes. ‘Azure, of course. What of it?’
Beginning to catch on, Wigg entered into the questioning. ‘That day on the mountain, when you first discovered the Caves and I killed the blood stalker, night fell and I used a powder to illuminate our way back down. What color did the path become?’
Tristan frowned. ‘Azure, of course. You know that as well as I,’ he said.
‘And what does that tell you?’ Faegan asked.
‘What I have always known. That when a wizard employs the gift, an azure color is created.’
‘Not quite,’ Faegan corrected. ‘Have you seen Wigg or any of the others of the Directorate use their power and not create this color?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then your answer needs to be modified.’
Tristan thought for a moment, and then suddenly looked at them both. ‘When a wizard employs a great abundance of his power, or the action he is attempting to undertake is particularly difficult, the azure glow is created in one form or another. But if the action taken is relatively easy to perform, then it is not.’
‘Well done,’ Faegan said. ‘And what does this tell you about Nicodemus in relation to the portal I have mentioned?’
Momentarily confused, Tristan sat back in his chair, wondering. He had never seen a blue cat before, but this line of reasoning was maddening. He looked up at the smiling, crippled wizard and wanted to wrap his hands around his throat, forcing the answers out of him. A quick glance at Wigg told him that he was to do this Faegan’s way. Realizing he had no choice, Tristan grudgingly resolved to play the wizard’s game. Then, suddenly, the answer came to him.
‘You sent him through!’ Tristan exclaimed. ‘The cat has been to Parthalon and back! That is the only thing that could explain his color! But why did he stay that way?’
‘Excellent,’ Faegan said happily. ‘But the truth is I have no idea why he changed color. Perhaps it was because the cat is a less intelligent being, or because he obviously has no endowed blood. Either way, he has stayed that way.’
‘Why did you do it?’ Tristan asked.
‘To be sure that the portal worked, of course,’ Faegan said. ‘Then I would open it again, and Geldon would put Nicodemus back through from the other side, with a note confirming that the transference had indeed happened, proving Nicodemus had not simply been wandering about somewhere in between.’
‘Tell me more about the portal,’ Wigg asked cautiously, taking another sip of wine. ‘The Directorate tried long and hard to find such a way to travel, especially during the war, but we were never successful. How does it work?’
Faegan smiled. ‘I open the portal, you walk in, and in a matter of seconds, you are there.’
‘That’s impossible!’ Tristan objected. ‘Traveling across the Sea of Whispers is the only way to Parthalon, if such a place even exists. No one can travel that distance in a matter of seconds! You’re insane.’ But Faegan just continued to smile.
Wigg put a finger to his lips in thought, now obviously intrigued. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ he said to Faegan politely. ‘How does the portal work?’
The crippled wizard picked up his cloth napkin and laid it flat upon the dining room table. Pointing one of his long fingers at the center of the left half of the napkin, he burned a small hole in it. He then pointed to the center of the right half, doing the same thing.
He indicated the hole on the left. ‘This hole represents Shadowood,’ he said. Then gesturing to the hole on the right side, he added, ‘This hole represents Parthalon.’ He then picked the napkin up at each end and held it out stretched out flat, parallel to the table. ‘The way the portal works is by temporarily compressing the space between the two places.’ He brought the ends of the napkin together until they touched, the folded center of it dropping in the middle toward the table. The holes were up against each other and could be seen through. ‘Once this has been accomplished, all one has to do is walk through to the other side and arrive at his destination.’ He let go with one hand and unceremoniously poked a finger through the two holes. ‘A distance of hundreds of leagues crossed with only a few steps, proving that the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, but rather, no distance at all.’ He smiled while scratching one corner of his mouth. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask Nicodemus.’ He opened the napkin and put it back down flat on the table as it had been before he started, then stared at them as though he had just discussed something as simple as what he had eaten for breakfast that morning.
Tristan looked up to see Wigg looking spellbound. ‘Amazing,’ the Lead Wizard said quietly, his gaze trans-fixed by the sight of the burned napkin that lay before him. ‘We had been working on the problem, but this solution never occurred to us. Closing the distance between two points by eliminating the space between them, rather than crossing the distance itself. Ingenious.’
‘As I said, Wigg, you were always too pragmatic.’
Tristan stared at the two of them, stunned. ‘Do you actually propose to have the three of us go through this portal?’ he asked.
‘Two,’ Faegan said calmly. ‘And the sooner the better.’
‘Then perhaps you could be so good as to tell us where it comes out on the other end, how we are supposed to know where to go, and what to do once we get there?’ The prince defiantly sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘And I take it you will not be accompanying us?’
‘No,’ Faegan said, serious now. ‘I cannot.’
‘And why not?’ Tristan was becoming more suspicious by the second.
‘There are two reasons. First, if I were to go with you, who would then reopen the portal on this side for our return? I can only hold the portal open for an hour or so at a time, and I have never had the strength to do so more than once a day. We must have a prearranged time each day that I will open the portal, so that you can be in a position to return if you are able. And second, look down at my legs, Tristan. Have you forgotten? Even I have been unable to undo the damage that the Coven caused, despite over three hundred years of trying. You and Wigg pushing me around Parthalon in this chair isn’t going to prove to be much of an advantage.’
