guardians of the Citadel, devouring many in our cause. But fear not, for with their deaths has come the release of the centuries-old Forestallments we employed to make them our servants. Because of this, the Conclave fleet will probably not last the night.”
Still on her knees and her eyes closed, Serena smiled.“The Conclave’s destruction will be welcome indeed,” she answered.
“Not all of our news is heartening,”the voices added.“For reasons not yet fully understood, the Darkling has failed to deliver the Jin’Saiinto our hands. Xanthus was able to tempt him to the Tolenkas’ other side but apparently unable to imprison him there. This might be because we were forced to temporarily summon the Borderlands. If the Darkling returns to us, we mean to have our answers. But for now the Jin’Saihas somehow managed to return to Eutracia. He has enlisted the aid of others, and he wears the Paragon. But he poses little threat. With the imminent destruction of the Conclave fleet, even he will be unable to affect the outcome of our mission.”
“What of Einar’s and Reznik’s research?”Serena asked eagerly.“Does it progress well?”
“Yes,”the voices answered.“They have found Failee’s unfinished spell and have started their work. Even so, we order you to stay at the Citadel. Should the Conclave somehow survive, only you can protect the island and its ancient treasures. Your journey to the Recluse will come soon enough.”
Although she was disappointed, Serena understood.“Very well,” she answered.“I will do as you say. But my eagerness to be apprised of our progress knows no bounds.”
“We understand, our child,”the voices said.“To that end, we are about to grant you a formula of the craft. As you see the azure numbers and numbers start to swirl in your mind, do not be afraid.”
Serena saw a craft formula appear against the darkness of her closed eyes. The calculation was elegant. As she knew, craft formulas always stemmed from one or more of the Paragon’s many jeweled facets. Although this new spell’s use escaped her, she recognized it as being one from the Temporal facet.
“Recite the spell, Serena,”the voices said.“Do not be afraid; it will not harm you. Bring it forth while thinking of Einar and Reznik and behold its wonders.”
Serena recited the spell while doing her best to envision Einar and Reznik. For several minutes she concentrated that way. Finally she opened her eyes.
At first she didn’t see the pale azure light, and she feared that she had failed. But as the light materialized, it slowly overtook the room. Standing, she turned to look toward one of the crypt’s four corners.
The light was forming into a glowing star. Without warning it flashed brightly, then spread out to become an azure cube. Entranced, she stepped nearer.
It was unlike anything she had seen. The newly formed cube was about one meter square and hovered at shoulder height. The blurred scene it displayed was tinged with azure. Just then sounds started coming from it, and its imprisoned image came into sharper focus. As Serena took a quick breath her eyes widened with surprise.
She was seeing and hearing Einar and Reznik as they went about their grisly work in the depths of the Recluse. Starting to understand, she stepped nearer. The scene was ghostly. She was looking through the cube rather than at it. Traces of the crypt’s marble wall showed through from the opposite side of the cube.
“It’s a miracle,”she thought, relaying her wonderment to her masters.
“There are no miracles of the craft, our child,”the voices answered.“There are only things that you have not yet learned. Behold, and view but one of the Vagaries’ many wonders.”
Einar, Reznik, and Actinius were standing in a stone room. Research materials lay scattered about, as did variously shaped bottles and vials. The magnificent Vagaries scroll hovered in one corner. To one side, a naked man lay atop a stone table. His skin pallor told Serena that he was dead.
Looking further, she saw that a craft formula hovered in the room and its azure numbers and symbols glowed brightly. It was the most elegant and complex series of calculations she had ever seen.
“Is that Failee’s lost spell?”she asked her masters.“The one that you say Einar and Reznik found?”
“Yes,”the voices answered.
After carefully measuring out some of the contents from two bottles into a shallow mortar, Reznik ground them with a pestle. When he was satisfied he poured some of the mixture onto a pair of weighted scales. After removing several pinches of the mixture and casting them aside, the trays balanced to his satisfaction.
“What’s different about your potion this time?” Serena heard Einar ask. His voice was so clear that he might have been standing alongside her.
“The last subject’s liver sample made me suspect that ground savannah twig might aid Failee’s spell,” the herbmaster replied. “It’s rare, and has long been known as a potent stimulant. It also warms the blood, making it good for frostbite.”
Reznik walked to another table. Taking up a piece of cured leather, he grasped a pair of scissors in his other hand then cut a crude circle from it. He quickly threaded a leather thong around the circle’s circumference. He knotted the ends of the thong and pulled on them to create a simple leather bag. Taking up his herbal mixture, he poured it into the bag, drew the thong tight, and knotted the bag closed.
“What is that?” Einar asked.
“It is called an herbmaster’s sachet,” Reznik answered. “They have many uses, most of them medicinal. In some cases they can be used as protective amulets. But no partial adept has ever put one to such an important a purpose as we.”
Reznik walked to the corpse and placed the string around the dead man’s neck so that the sachet lay atop his breastbone. He looked over at Einar.
“You may start,” he said. “I will call a spell allowing everyone to hear the results.”
Looking to the hovering formula, Einar started reciting the incantation. As he did, Reznik started reciting one of his own.
Almost immediately the sachet quivered atop the dead man’s skin. Wispy smoke started snaking its way free from the bag. Reznik was converting the herbal mixture to a vaporous form, Serena realized. The image was so clear and bright that she thought she could almost smell Reznik’s burning concoction as it climbed into the air.
Fascinated by the process, Serena watched as the wispy smoke collected to a place just above the dead man’s heart. The collecting smoke started whirling into a funnel shape. Its bottom point became no larger than a pinhead, and its top stretched about six inches across. Then the maelstrom’s point seemed to somehow penetrate the man’s skin, and the whirling funnel disappeared into his body without leaving a wound. Within seconds it was gone.
Reznik removed the sachet from around the man’s neck and cast it aside, then started reciting another incantation.
Einar finished his reading and turned away from Failee’s unfinished formula to look at Reznik. Moments later, Serena and the others heard the welcome telltale sound. Her heart was overjoyed.
In the silence of the stony room, the dead man’s heart was beating again. His lungs started to rise and fall in jerking, staggered lurches. One quivering finger rose from his right hand, then fell again. As the methodical thumping of the man’s heart filled the room, Reznik looked up from the corpse to smile at Einar. Serena’s lead consul smiled back.
Suddenly the man’s eyes opened wide, and he breathed a desperate gasp. His heartbeat stopped. Sighing, Reznik removed his spectacles and scrubbed his face in frustration.
Einar shook his head. “Another failure,” he said.
Reznik looked up and arranged the glasses on his face. “To you, perhaps,” he said. “But I see it as a success. The subject’s heartbeat lasted longer this time, and he raised one finger. I believe the addition of the savannah twig brought his motor skills alive-something to remember for next time. We haven’t reached our goal, but we’re on the right track.”
Einar looked over at Actinius. “Bring us another one. The day is young.” He then regarded Reznik. “I suggest that you do what you can to strengthen your potion. The queen will be here soon. She has a personal stake in this process, and will expect nothing less than complete success.”
With a nod, Reznik walked to consult a leather-bound volume while Actinius heaved the corpse over his back. Actinius carried the corpse from the chamber. Although her mystics’ success had not lasted, Serena was encouraged.
“Our servants continue to advance their knowledge,”she said to the Heretics.“I am pleased. But time is of the
