remained skeptical, despite the wonder hovering before her.
“As is the case with the vast variety of Forestallment formulas, an index spell will be needed,” the lead cleric answered. “Our researchers say it should be finished soon, and that it will rely on chronology and subject matter. For example, should one wish to see a subject’s adolescent memories relating to his father, the index will select the appropriate time frame from the subject’s life, then search for images showing the subject’s father. Then the index will sift though the scenes until the requested memory is found. Even without an index, I can give you a nonspecific demonstration here and now. I have but to select a memory chamber, then call forth one of its thousands of scenes.”
Xanthus had become so entranced that he had almost forgotten his dire situation. If what they said was true, the gleaming chambers held his entire life’s story. But which part was it about to show?
Suddenly one of the nautilus’s smaller chambers glowed, and its patterned colors started whirling. Then an azure light shone from the chamber. As the light streamed into the room, a scene formed in its depths.
Xanthus did not remember the particular occasion that was being shown, but he could identify the people in it. One of them was him, around the age of nine or ten. He walked hand in hand between his paternal grandfather and grandmother. The old man’s face was kindly, weather-beaten. The woman looked slightly younger. They were strolling through a lively forum. The sun was high, the sky clear.
Xanthus was dumbfounded by what he saw. His grandparents were long dead, and had been named Aaron and Esther. He had loved them with all his heart. By that time in his life he had become an orphan, his parents killed in the seemingly never-ending War of Attrition. It had been his parents’ tragic deaths that had eventually convinced him to join the Imperial Order. As he watched the strangely familiar people walk along, he started hearing sounds come from the scene. With this last enhancement, the image took on an eerie life of its own.
The bustling forum was colorful and alive with energy. Hundreds of stalls enticed the many passersby. Each stall’s proprietor called out loudly to the shoppers, trying to get them to stop and admire his or her wares. Stern- looking Imperial Order officers strolled watchfully, looking for anyone who seemed out of place. Young Xanthus admired their golden uniforms and the short swords hanging at their hips.
Smiling, Aaron looked down at Xanthus. “Would you like a treat?” he asked.
The boy nodded eagerly. After paying for a candy, Aaron handed it to him. Xanthus placed the whole thing into his mouth. Smiling widely, he looked up at his grandmother, then-
The lead cleric waved one hand. The image vanished, and the azure light fled back into the nautilus’s compartment. The compartment’s riotous colors stopped whirling. Suddenly brought back to reality, Xanthus returned his gaze to the shroudedPon Q’tar clerics. The amazing respite into his past had been brief but welcome.
“Do you remember that day?” the lead cleric demanded. Unlike Aaron’s voice, the cleric’s held no compassion.
“No,” Xanthus answered. “But that does not mean it didn’t happen. The two elderly people were Aaron and Esther, my paternal grandparents. They raised me after my parents died in the war.”
“We know,” the cleric answered drily. Lifting a leather-bound notebook from the tabletop, he held it up for Xanthus to see. “It’s all here in your file. You were once a respected member of the Imperial Order. You even rose to become Faxon’s personal assistant. He trusted you enough to choose you to bring us theJin’Sai. But you turned traitor and let Tristan escape. What we cannot understand is why you brought him so far, only to let him go. We have spoken to Faxon. Like us, he is beside himself with anger at your betrayal.”
“And I keep telling you how wrong you are!” Xanthus protested as he angrily strained against his bonds. “I am no traitor! I saw theJin’Sai die in the red desert with my own eyes! It was not I who conjured the Borderlands! If anyone is responsible for theJin’Sai ’s death it is you!”
“Mind your tongue!” one of the female clerics shouted. “There was an army of Ones advancing-we did what we had to! How dare you question our wisdom! We are not some gaggle of low-ranking Imperial Order officers for you to berate! We are members of thePon Q’tar! Any one of us could kill you with a single thought!”
Xanthus’ mouth turned up into a sneer. “But you won’t,” he answered sarcastically. “You need to learn whether I’m telling the truth.”
The lead cleric had heard enough. “Guard!” he shouted.
Double doors immediately opened in the wall behind Xanthus’ chair. Light streamed in, hurting his eyes again. Two high-ranking Imperial Order officers quickly entered the room. The azure bands binding Xanthus disappeared.
“Take this traitor back to his hole!” the lead cleric ordered. “As punishment for his insolence he is to be denied food for the next two days.” The two officers promptly manhandled Xanthus from the room. As the doors shut behind them, the darkness returned.
“When will the index spell be ready?” one of the clerics asked.
“Within another moon,” the leader answered. “Then we will have our answers. Even so, theJin’Sai has escaped us. But if Serena succeeds, Tristan and his sister will be of little consequence.”
“We have just proven that one’s blood signature holds the entire account of its owner’s life,” he added. “Even we clerics at this table would never have believed that possible. It is often said that the eyes are the window to the soul. But after witnessing the nautilus effect, now I say that the true window to the soul is one’s blood signature, in all of its amazing splendor.”
“Do you still believe that Xanthus is a traitor?” another of them asked.
Several quiet moments passed before the lead cleric answered. “Only time will tell,” he said. “If he is, he will be killed. If not, we might find another use for him after all.”
After picking up Xanthus’ file from the table, he squired the other clerics from the room.
CHAPTER LIII
AS SHE AND HER WARRIOR SCOUTS SAT ATOP PART OFthe smashed deck, Duvessa raised her eyes to the sky. Her heart fell as she realized that the coming darkness would drastically impede her search.
It was early evening of the day following the attack on the fleet. Even the famous Minion battle with Nicholas’ forces high over Farplain had not caused so many casualties. As she looked down at the floating wreckage, the premier warrior-healer fervently hoped that she might find some fellow warriors still alive.
Wigg had been right. Had she ordered a search party aloft yesterday, they would not have gotten far before tumbling into the sea. It would have been a Minion suicide mission, pure and simple. Even so, Duvessa knew that there would have been no shortage of volunteers.
As her group had traveled farther east, they had all realized that not even Traax could have stayed continually aloft for this long. Any survivors would be in the ocean, and that only lessened their already meager chances for survival. As she and her warriors had focused their attention on the waves, they found Black Ship wreckage. Each piece had to be investigated. Eventually she and her scouts had landed on a section of aft decking to take a rest.
At first Duvessa had been surprised to see wreckage of any kind. To her mind, the wave had been so tall and strong that no part of either lost Black Ship should have reappeared. But after giving the matter some thought, she understood. After engulfing the ships and breaking them apart, the wave had sent debris tumbling east, down its backside. The trough’s impetus had then carried the wreckage even farther.
As Duvessa surveyed the flotsam, she realized that she had no idea from which ship it had come. Not knowing somehow added to the forlornness of it all. It was strange to see it like this, as it wandered the sea by itself. The deck boards were broken or missing in many places and most of the ship’s wheelhouse was gone. Sections of tangled rigging still lay about. Finding this wooden island had come just in time, for the tired patrol had been nearing the point of no return when they spotted it. Although it held no sign of Traax’s group, the respite it granted was welcome.
As Duvessa tried to decide what to do, she looked at her exhausted male and female warriors. Each had eagerly volunteered. As their commander she had every right to force them eastward until they plunged to their deaths from exhaustion. Despite how much she loved Traax, that was not an order she was prepared to give. If they turned around now, with any luck they would make it back to the fleet. But even the current was against her.
