The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Thirty-seven

"D rop anchor!" Scars shouted loudly.

The anchor went in with a splash, and The People's Revenge, all of her sails furled, drifted for a moment before coming to a halt. Not far from them, the other two ships in their little fleet likewise dropped anchor and came to a rest. Satisfied, Scars looked back to his captain and nodded.

Tristan stood on the bow next to Tyranny, wondering how she could be so sure they had arrived at the Isle of Sanctuary. It was midday, and the sun was high, but a dense fog bank blocked the view ahead of them. But then, through the salty sea air, he was surprised to realize he could distinguish another odor: the smell of land.

Tristan was not the only one who welcomed the chance to stand on firm ground again. Tyranny's crew seemed extremely anxious to go ashore. For some reason still unknown to the prince, Tyranny had ordered the slaves to stay aboard for the time being. A smattering of crewmen, chosen by lot, stayed behind to watch over the ships as they lay at anchor. The others were all joyously clambering into the skiffs hoisted along the length of the hull, lowering themselves down into the water as quickly as they knew how, and paddling off into the fog.

Tyranny stood watching her crew depart with a distinct look of concern on her face. The bandage Tristan had wound around her forehead yesterday had been removed, as had the ones on her hands. Only the cloth around her left thigh remained, since that wound had been deeper and still tried to bleed through from time to time. Tristan wondered what she was waiting for.

"Aren't we going ashore?" he asked her. On hearing his words she seemed to come out of some kind of personal reverie, and she turned her wide, blue eyes toward him.

"Yes, yes, of course," she answered rather absently. At a gesture from her, Scars walked to the gunwale and prepared to lower the captain's personal skiff into the sea. Tyranny started to join him, but Tristan gently took her by one arm, stopping her.

"I think it's time you gave me some answers about all of this, don't you?" he asked, jaw hard with determination.

Tyranny nodded. "You're right," she said simply. "Climb into the skiff, and I will explain on the way."

But as the skiff made its way into the gloom, Scars rowing, Tyranny was silent. The dense fog was cold and clammy against Tristan's skin, and so thick that he could barely see Tyranny next to him. If it hadn't been for the reassuring sound of the oars slicing through the sea, he wouldn't have known that Scars was there at all. Tristan scowled.

"What is it about this place that has unnerved you so?" he asked. "That isn't like you. And why do you seem so hesitant to go ashore, when the rest of your crew was so eager?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, and a short, rather sad smile crossed her face. "You're very observant," she answered. "I don't fear this place, Tristan. There is nothing in this world that I truly fear, including the screechlings that attacked us. But there are reasons why I do not wish to see this place again."

He edged closer and put an arm around her, not only to help ward off the cold, but also, he hoped, to inspire a sense of trust. She did not shy away from his touch. "May I know what these reasons are?" he asked.

"The Isle of Sanctuary is a haven for pirates," she said. "Not privateers such as Scars and myself, mind you, but true marauders of the seas. These men, and in some cases women, make their living by plundering the honest merchant vessels that ply the coast of Eutracia. Whenever they take a ship, those captives who refuse to join them are immediately put to the sword. Because of this practice, their ranks have swollen quickly. On discovering this island they made it their base. Even the name of Sanctuary that the wizards gave to this place suits the needs of the pirates. Ironic, wouldn't you say?"

But something else occurred to Tristan. "How is it possible that you know of the connection between this place and the Directorate of Wizards?"

"A great library was found here-only one of numerous structures. The texts within held the plans for the island. The Directorate was clearly the force behind it. The construction apparently began sometime just after the end of the Sorceresses' War. But although the buildings were finished, it seems they were never occupied."

Stunned, Tristan turned to look back out into the fog. For a moment his mind was teased by the idea that he might find the Scroll of the Vigors here, but then he quickly dismissed the notion. If the scrolls had been hidden here, Wigg and Faegan would surely know. He turned back to Tyranny.

"Tell me," he asked. "Are these records still intact?"

"As of my last visit here, yes," she answered. "The pirates have little use for such things. Many of them can't even read. But now I have a question for you. I have been sailing these waters all of my life, and I would bet my last kisa that despite the evidence contained in the library, this island did not exist until the return of the Coven. So how is it that it has so suddenly sprung up from the depths, so to speak, for the pirates to use?"

"I have no idea," Tristan replied. "All I can tell you is that the wizards often have their own inexplicable ways of doing things…" He shook his head. "But you still haven't told me your reasons for not wanting to come here," he reminded her gently.

"First of all, I always lose a number of good crewmembers to this place," she answered sadly. "The temptations here are too great for many of them to resist. That is surely the only reason my ships are allowed entry here-because I lose so many of my people to their cause. It profits the pirates to let me visit."

"If that's the case, then why do you let your crew go ashore at all?" Tristan asked.

Tyranny snorted. "It's easy to see you have never captained a sailing vessel, my dear prince," she scoffed. "Just what would you have me do to stop them, eh? You, Scars, and I certainly aren't enough to keep them from going ashore, are we? These are basically good people, Tristan, and when we are at sea, they follow my orders to the letter. But like all people they have their weaknesses, especially after having been out for weeks on end. When a vessel at sea is stopped by pirates, the crew is forced into service-they have no other option. But here, once a crewmember goes ashore and learns what Sanctuary has to offer, many of them join the pirates willingly. And the pirates are smart enough to know that someone who has joined them of his or her own accord will probably serve them better than one who has not."

Tristan shook his head. "And the other reason?" he asked gently, hoping to finally come to the heart of the matter.

"There is one here who is in charge of it all," she answered softly, sadly. "His name is Rolf of the House of Glenkinnon. At one time he worked for my father, in our fishing concern. That's how we met. Later on, he became not only my partner in my pursuit of the demonslavers, but my lover, as well. But once we found this place and he set foot ashore, all of that changed."

"Is Sanctuary really that alluring?" Tristan asked.

Tyranny nodded.

"I see," he mused. "So this man was persuaded not only to leave you, but to become an important part of what you despise. I'm sorry, Tyranny. That must have been difficult."

Turning to him, she placed a hand over his. "You must be very careful in this place, Tristan," she warned him. "My common crew are welcome, even accepted in this place. But needless to say, you look and act very different. Even though Rolf and I are no longer together, he can be insanely jealous, especially when he is drinking. We will not require his permission to buy our sails and spars from the tradesmen here. But he could just as easily tell them not to deal with us, should the mood strike him. And they would obey him without question. He rules by intimidation and is a quick and efficient killer-the best swordsman I have ever seen. So give him a wide berth, and let me do the talking. I want to be in and out of here as quickly as possible."

She allowed herself a small half smile. "Besides," she whispered, leaning in closer toward his ear, "you and I have business to conclude in Eutracia. I still haven't forgotten about my money, you know. I must admit that I gave serious thought to having Scars tie you up and then leave you aboard with the freed slaves until we could be done with our business here. That way I could have better protected my investment in you. But after coming to know you as I have, I decided that as Scars and I shopped for the things we need, we were safer with you and your strange sword than without you."

This time it was Tristan's turn to give a snort. Tyranny was nothing if not clever, he reminded himself. He turned his attention forward again. As he did, he thought he saw the fog start to thin. Then the skiff plunged headlong out the other side of it, and the Isle of Sanctuary suddenly lay before him.