reason, Wigg again poked at the fire.
“There are other things to consider,” he said, “things that easily eclipse our storming of the Citadel, or whether the calculations we seek to breach the pass can be found in the other scroll.” He looked over at Tristan again, then back into the fire.
“And they all have to do with the amazing revelations about you, your brother, and your destinies,” he added.
Shailiha nodded. “The things that the Scroll Master told him,” she offered.
“That’s right. When Tristan explained them to me just before he finally destroyed theEnseterat, at first I couldn’t believe my ears. We are still trying to come to grips with what they might mean. His training should start soon, but Faegan, Jessamay, and I would much prefer to see his heart lighten before we start. His full attention and willingness to learn will be crucial. But there is no telling when that might be.”
Turning from the fire, Wigg looked at Shailiha. “You know how stubborn he can be,” he added.
Shailiha understood Wigg’s worries. During his time with the Scroll Master, Tristan had learned not only where Forestallments came to reside after a blood signature’s human host dies, but also that there had been many otherJin’Sais andJin’Saious who had arrived long before he and she. Every one, the Scroll Master said, had failed in their attempts to unite the two sides of the craft.
The Scroll Master also told Tristan that Celeste-despite how much Tristan loved her-was not his destiny. Had she lived, he would have been forced to leave her for the good of the craft. Another love would come to him, and it would be a love like no other. When Tristan saw her he would know. It would be she who would become his true love, and bear his children. And when she arrived to take part in his life, she would not be what he expected.
Shailiha knew that Tristan did not want to believe that. Nor did the First Wizard, she guessed. But the word of the young Scroll Master was not to be doubted. Despite how much he had loved Celeste, Tristan found himself having to accept these painful facts.
When Tristan finally finds this new woman, will he be able to love her in the way that the Scroll Master foretold? Shailiha wondered. Or will Celeste’s memory continue to so crowd his heart that there will be no room for anyone else?
Perhaps most important, in a painful application of the craft the young Scroll Master had used the spells given him by the Ones Who Came Before to change Tristan’s blood back to red. He would now be able to wear the Paragon and start translating the Prophecies-the third and final volume of the Tome that only he or Shailiha were destined to read.
But before that process started, the wizards and Jessamay had agreed that the consular safe houses needed to be wiped out. Each time they approached one it had been all they could do to convince the prince not to go charging in, trying to kill every consul he could find. Since Celeste’s death he seemed to possess an even deeper, more blinding hatred of all things connected to the Vagaries, and he mercilessly acted on it with every opportunity.
Shailiha often wondered what her late parents would think of her and Tristan helping to round up and sometimes kill former Redoubt consuls. Sometimes she felt like their parents’ spirits were looking down on her and her brother, watching them struggle to fulfill their destinies.
She looked back at Tristan. His silhouette dark in the moonlight, he continued to hone the already razor-sharp blade. Sensing his pain, Shailiha closed her eyes.
CHAPTER III
SECRETS AND GIFTS, SHE THOUGHT AS SHE QUIETLYwalked the corridors. That is all I have left of what my lord so graciously bestowed upon me. But the secrets and gifts that remain in my heart and in my blood signature shall be enough to pluck my revenge from the ashes.
As she walked, she clutched a withered rose to her breast, and a tear came to one eye. The droplet slowly traced its way down one cheek.
Soon, my love, she thought. Soon I will avenge your death.
Serena walked slowly down the Citadel hallways, her black silk gown rustling pleasantly as she went. Dark ringlets lay on her shoulders. Although her blue eyes were tinged with grief, they also carried a commitment to see the Heretics’ goals attained. She would struggle until her efforts ended either in the death of theJin’Sai, or in her own. Wiping the tear from her face, she walked on.
Two months had passed since Wulfgar’s unsuccessful invasion of Eutracia. The rose that he had bound to his life force before departing the Citadel had told Serena his fate. If the rose withered, she would know he had died, and she would be the new ruler of the Citadel.
When the impossible had happened, and the rose had died before her very eyes, she had been in her private chambers, taking tea. Her grip had faltered, and her teacup had smashed upon the floor as she cried her grief to the heavens. Without a doubt, she knew: TheEnseterat was dead.
At that very moment, a searing pain had racked her belly, its strength so great that she was sure she would die as well. The first of the horrible contractions came quickly as her endowed blood surged hotly through her veins. Then she felt something inside her slip.
Collapsing to the floor, she began to bleed and give birth. Just moments before she fell unconscious, she managed to place an azure field around the little corpse that lay there beside her like a bloodied doll.
Summoned by her screams, her servants soon found her. Teetering on the cusp of death, Serena lingered under the care of her worried consuls for two more days.
On the third day her consciousness sensed the Heretics of the Guild for the first time, as their voices roused her from her nether-sleep. Opening her eyes, she commandingly raised one arm to order her shocked servants from the room. After they had gone, she closed her eyes again.
“Serena,”she heard.
“I am here,”she thought, innately understanding that she would not need to speak to make her thoughts known. Then her losses stabbed her heart again, hurting so badly that she could hardly bear it.
“My husband and child are dead,”she told them.
“We know,”the choir of voices answered.“In his twisted eagerness to rule the craft, the Jin’Saikilled them both.”
Serena took a quick breath.“How?” she asked.
“He used the Orb of the Vigors to destroy Wulfgar,”they answered.“The unexpected might of their clash had been underestimated-even by us. It had been aeons since your world witnessed such a titanic struggle of the craft. But the Ones cannot commune with the Jin’Saiagain, for the Forestallment required to do so is lost to his blood.”
“What of my child?”Serena asked.“I still do not understand.”
“When theEnseteratdied, your blood could withstand it; the vulnerable blood of your unborn child could not. But take heart. Wulfgar granted you many Forestallments before he died. You are a fully empowered sorceress, and your blood is strong. Any additional Forestallments required for your purposes can be gleaned from the Vagaries scroll. If you act soon enough, victory can still be ours.”
She smiled for the first time since the death of her family.“What do you wish of me?” she asked.“My life is yours.”
“We know, Daughter,”they responded.“Your mission will be a complicated one, and must be accomplished in steps. Listen as we tell you what to do first.”
As she lay near death, Serena was astounded by what she heard. Nonetheless it all made perfect sense. The task before her would be enormous. But the rewards would be, as well.
When the Heretics had finished speaking to her, she bid them good-bye. From that moment on, her strength and vitality had returned quickly. That had been seven weeks ago. She had accomplished much since then.
Reaching her destination, the queen of the Vagaries stopped before a pair of tall twin doors. A wreath of flowering red cat’s paw hung on each one. She pointed an index finger. At her bidding the heavy locks turned over and the doors parted. Serena walked into the room. The doors shut heavily behind her.
