The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Sixty-five

W hen the strong, familiar knock came on the door, Wigg stiffened. Looking over at Faegan, he took a deep breath, then glanced back toward the doors again.

"Enter," he said simply.

The prince and Celeste walked in. For some unknown reason, Tristan seemed especially eager to see them. Removing his weapons from his shoulder, he slung them over the back of one of the chairs and took a place next to Wigg's daughter at the table.

Taking a deep breath, Wigg looked over at them. "I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. "We need to speak with you. There is something I must-"

"And I need to speak to you," Tristan interrupted excitedly. "Had you not asked for me, I would have sought you out myself."

"What is it?" Wigg asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I have an idea," Tristan answered quickly. "And I'm afraid that whatever you wanted to say will have to wait for the moment. What I have to tell you is vitally important. But first, please tell me-have the two of you found any possible way to stop Wulfgar?"

Sitting back in his chair, Wigg raised his eyebrow. "No," he said. "And time grows short."

Reaching into a pocket of his trousers, Tristan took something out. He gently placed it on the table. "This may be our answer," he said softly. "I was reminded of it yesterday, during our meeting on the balcony."

Faegan looked at the item on the table, then back over at the prince. "Of course we recognize it," he said, as he stroked Nicodemus. "But I still do not understand what you have in mind."

"You told us yesterday that the orbs cannot be coaxed out over the sea. And also that if we could keep Wulfgar's fleet of demonslavers from reaching the coast, we would have a much better chance of stopping him from destroying the Orb of the Vigors, correct?"

"Yes, that's true," Wigg answered, his curiosity growing. "But what are you driving at?"

For more than the next half hour, Tristan explained to Wigg, Faegan, and Celeste exactly what he wanted to do, and how he would do it. As he spoke, the wizards could hear the optimism rising in his voice. When he was done, the two mystics sat back in silence as they considered his plan. Long moments ticked by as the prince awaited their opinions.

"I'll admit that it has its merits," Faegan finally answered. Tristan could see the wheels turning in the old wizard's head. "But the logistics and execution would be daunting, to say the least. The timing would have to be perfect, and your idea carries with it absolutely no guarantee of success. Still, it's the best plan I have seen so far." He smiled at the prince. "Frankly, I'm impressed."

"I agree," Wigg said. "But tell me, does anyone outside of this room know of your idea?"

"No."

"Good," the lead wizard said adamantly. "Keep it that way. And leave what you brought here with us. We will consider your plan, and let you know if it is viable."

"If that's what you feel you must do, then so be it," Tristan countered. "But you'd best hurry. The warning from the Minion scout ships could come at any time, whether you're ready or not."

Satisfied for the time being, Tristan crossed his arms over his leather vest. "Now then," he asked politely. "What was it you wished to tell us?"

As was his habit, Wigg placed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe. "There are two things, actually," he began. "And they both have to do with the Scroll of the Vigors."

Tristan and Celeste both looked over to where the scroll was hovering in the air. The azure glow of the craft flowed from it, and it was partially unrolled to reveal the elegant, flowing Old Eutracian words and symbols inscribed on it. Its golden center rod and end caps gleamed in the light.

"What about it?" Celeste asked.

"Do you remember Faegan and I telling you about something the watchwoman of the floating gardens mentioned to us? She called it the River of Thought."

Tristan's brow furrowed. "Yes, I do," he answered. "But frankly, I had forgotten. You said little of it."

"That's because at the time, there was very little to say," Faegan replied. "We wanted to be sure the calculations for it actually existed within the scroll. And we finally found them."

"And just what does this so-called River of Thought accomplish?" Tristan asked.

"Used properly, it can stir certain feelings or sensations in one or more endowed persons at the same time," Wigg replied. "Faegan imbued its Forestallment into my blood only this morning, and I just used it for the first time."

"To do what?" Celeste asked, her voice a whisper.

"To call home all of the acolytes of Fledgling House," he replied. "The Redoubt has been empty for far too long. It needs to be used for the reason it was built-the further training and safe harbor of those who have devoted their lives to go forth in our name and perform good deeds of the craft. As you both know, whatever consuls may still exist have been freed of their death enchantments, turned to the Vagaries, and taken to the Citadel. Sadly, they are now all subject to Wulfgar's control. But they are not the subjects of our efforts." Pausing for a moment, he looked into their surprised faces.

"Instead, we have employed the River of Thought to summon the acolytes here, to what will be their new home," he went on. "What better place to harbor these valuable souls during such troubled times than the depths of the Redoubt? Their mission will be to take the place of the consuls who have betrayed us." He looked sadly at Tristan.

"This was your mother's lifelong dream," he added softly. "Equality for women in the craft. Faegan and I wanted to call the acolytes home sooner, but until we learned of the River of Thought, there was no practical way of doing it. Now there is. We are about to make Morganna's vision for the future come true. The circle shall be complete again, for the first time in more than three centuries."

Tristan stared at the two wizards, then smiled broadly, happy beyond words that they had finally arrived at this crossroads in history. But then another thought came to him. "This is wonderful news," he told them. "Still, how will we know they are who they claim to be? Anyone can acquire a red robe. Couldn't there easily be traitors among them? This seems like a very dangerous time to be taking strangers into the palace."

"First, of course, they will all be women," Wigg answered, "the oldest of whom should be no more than thirty Seasons of New Life. And, as you point out, each of them should also be wearing the dark red, hooded robe of her station. But clearly, those things alone are not sufficient proof. We shall therefore also be checking their blood signatures against our records for final confirmation before any of them are shown the secrets of the Redoubt. We shall also check them for the presence of Forestallments, to see whether their blood has been tampered with. There should be none. But if any of the acolytes are found to posses them, those women will be segregated and held for questioning." Pausing for a moment, the lead wizard laced his long fingers together.

"Tristan, with your permission I want to order the Minions now stationed before the palace entrance to move their campsites immediately," he said. "I want them out of sight. I think we can safely assume that few of the acolytes have ever seen one of our winged friends before, and I don't want to scare the women away. Their hearts will already be filled with enough trepidation about what they are doing as it is. For all they know just now, they are breaking their vows simply by coming here. We can only hope that the River of Thought is strong enough to overcome those feelings in them and keep them continuing on the path home. They will be very conflicted when they arrive. They must feel welcome, and know that it was we who called them here."

"Forgive me, Father," Celeste began, "but are you sure this is a good time to be doing this? What about Wulfgar and his fleet?"

"Now is the best possible time," Faegan answered. "In other ways, it is also the worst. And Wulfgar is the reason behind both. If he truly is on the way, we want to get the acolytes to safety as quickly as we can, before he can influence them. And if Grizelda was lying and Wulfgar is not advancing on us, then why wait? Your father and I thought long and hard about this, and finally decided to go ahead."

Tristan looked over at Wigg, and the lead wizard's face darkened. "And the other thing you called us here to discuss?" Tristan asked. "What is it?"

Ignoring Tristan's question, Wigg looked sternly at both of them. "We are sorry to have to ask you this, but we must know if the two of you have been intimate. And if you have, how many times this occurred."

Tristan and Celeste stared at him, shocked. "How could you ask such a thing?" the prince demanded. "Besides, this really isn't the time for-"

"Just tell us," Wigg interrupted sternly. "Trust me when I say that we have our reasons. It is vitally important that we know."

Had any other man asked him this, Tristan might well have knocked him down. But these were Wigg and Faegan, and the wizards always had their reasons. Still, he scowled.

"Once," he answered. Annoyed, he crossed his arms over his chest. Celeste blushed.

"When was it?" Wigg asked.

"Yesterday morning."

"And during your time with one another, did either of you see an azure glow form, then disappear?"

Tristan looked over at Celeste. He took her hand, then looked back at Wigg. "I may have," he said tentatively.

"That's not good enough," Wigg shot back impatiently. "Either you did, or you didn't."

"I was half asleep," Tristan answered. "And that's the best answer I can give you. Even now I cannot be sure whether it was a dream or whether it was real."

"What is all of this about?" Celeste asked anxiously. "Is there something wrong?"

Wigg's expression softened a bit, and he held one hand out to her. "Please stand, and come to me," he asked her quietly. She did so.

Wigg looked to the table at large. "Everyone please be still," he asked. "What I am about to do is very important."

Reaching out with his free hand, he placed his palm onto Celeste's lower abdomen and closed his eyes. Silence reigned as Wigg gently moved his long fingers to and fro, as if searching for something. After a time he removed his hand, opened his eyes, and bade Celeste to sit back down.

Faegan leaned anxiously over the table and looked at Wigg. "Well?" he asked.

A sad look overcame the lead wizard's face. "I can't tell," he answered softly. "My attempts were blocked, exactly as the scroll said they would be."

Wasting no time, Faegan wheeled his chair over to where Celeste sat. Placing his hand upon her as Wigg had just done, he also closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his face registered an equal look of surprise.

"Do you now see?" Wigg asked him sadly. "Just as I told you. Inconclusive. And to my knowledge, this has never happened before."

"But how can that be?" Faegan whispered, half to himself.

Cleary frustrated, Wigg ran his hands down his face. "I have no idea," he answered slowly. "But the influence of Tristan's presence has clearly been at work here. Did you sense it? It was almost as if our powers were being overcome somehow. It seems that once again, as has also been true with so many of the questions concerning his azure blood, we can find no clear-cut answer."

Tristan looked quizzically at Celeste, then back to the wizards. "What in the name of the Afterlife are you two talking about?" he asked. "What were you doing to Celeste?"

"The two of you have done nothing wrong," Wigg said compassionately. "But you have been caught up in something not of your own making, and there are things that must be said. Things the two of you will find very difficult to hear. And they have to do with the scroll." Turning to Faegan, the lead wizard nodded. Faegan nodded back.

Wheeling his chair away from the table a bit, the old wizard raised his arms in the direction of the hovering scroll. Almost at once a short section of text in Old Eutracian lifted itself from the body of the scroll and came to hover over the center of the table. It glowed magnificently.

Looking over at Celeste, Tristan saw that she was reading the text. Then a sudden look of horror overcame her, and the blood ran from her face. She placed her hands over her eyes, as if looking at it had somehow become unbearable. Not knowing what else to do, Tristan put an arm around her.

"In the name of the Afterlife, will one of you please tell me what is going on here?" he shouted at the wizards. "Can't you see you're upsetting her?"

"Perhaps the best way is to read the passage for you, since you cannot do so for yourself," Faegan answered him softly. Turning his chair, he looked up at the glowing, hovering script and began to read aloud.

" 'And should the Chosen One make use of his gifts before he is trained to do so, the ordeal shall alter the nature of his blood, changing it from red to azure. But with this change shall come a price. For should his seed then mingle with that of any female, the child they might produce would be horrible beyond description, for the blood of the Jin'Sai shall be tainted. And no endowed female in the world, except for the twin of the Jin'Sai, shall carry a blood signature strong enough to keep such a child from possessing the left-leaning signature that shall without question emerge. Such shall always be the case, until the blood of the Jin'Sai can be returned to red. Thus, no seed of the Jin'Sai may be allowed to walk the world at any price, and no practice of the craft shall be able to determine whether the Jin'Sai's mate is with child. Only nature's way of revealing the answer shall be available to those who shall both worry, and wonder…' "

His mind stunned and drifting, Tristan slumped down into the chair. Finally, slowly, he looked over at the wizards. Their faces were very concerned.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" he breathed, scarcely able to get the words out. "We could have prevented this… That's why you were examining her, isn't it? You needed to see if she was carrying my child." He paused tentatively for a moment. "Is she-"

"We don't know," Wigg interrupted softly. "We only discovered this message in the scroll this morning, and then called for both of you straight away. It was the best we could do."

"But I thought the scrolls were only a compilation of Forestallment formulas," Tristan countered softly. "Do you mean to say that they speak of other things, as well?"

"Yes," Wigg answered. "The scrolls are much more than they appeared to be at first glance. Not only are they the repository of the Forestallment calculations, but they are informative, as well, much like the Tome of the Paragon."

"And you are unable to use your gifts to tell us if she is with child?" Tristan asked.

"That's right," Faegan answered. "It is just as the scroll said it would be. The only way we shall know is by the appearance of the traditional, natural signs. And that will take some time. I also regret to say that until Tristan's blood is somehow returned to normal, the two of you must refrain from physical intimacy. I'm sorry, but being of the craft sometimes also means making sacrifices. For now, that is how things must be."

Faegan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Aside from the impending arrival of Wulfgar, it now seems that our most pressing concern is the search to unravel the mystery surrounding Tristan's blood." Pausing for a moment, the brilliant wizard thought quietly.

"Who knew?" he asked. "Who knew that Tristan's answer to defeating the Coven of sorceresses-the only answer available to him, and achieved with such great self-sacrifice-would in turn somehow become the greatest, most dangerous riddle of the craft?"

Finally removing her hands from her face, Celeste looked out over the table. Tristan fully expected to see her eyes full of tears, but they weren't. Instead, a look of grim determination had overtaken her. Reaching out, she took both of Tristan's hands into hers and held them tight.

"There has to be a way to remedy this, and we shall find it," she said softly. Despite the gentleness of her tone, her voice carried so much weight that her words sounded like an oath. She looked deeply into Tristan's eyes.

"If I am carrying our child, we shall find a way to safely bring it into this world, regardless of what the scroll may say. I swear it to you, my love," she added.

Tristan tried to speak, but was so overcome he found he had no voice. Narrowing his eyes against the coming tears, he simply nodded.

Then the familiar, hated feeling for his azure blood crept up on him again.

He looked away for a moment, his jaw hardening. And now, it seemed, his blood had caused pain not only to Tristan, but to the woman he loved, and to the child she could be carrying.

His eyes full of tears, he took Celeste into his arms and held her for what seemed forever.