hasseen the prince. But I still have my doubts.” He handed the letter to Faegan. “In your opinion, did Tristan write this note? If the person Kratos saw is some kind of impostor, he could be ordering us right into a trap.”
Faegan held the page to the light. “I can’t tell from this alone,” he said. Then he seized on an idea and he cackled softly. “But there’s a way to find out.”
Reaching across the table he took up a piece of blank parchment. Then he closed his eyes. Everyone wondered what he was up to, but knew better than to interrupt. With his eyes still closed, Faegan lifted the parchment higher. The Conclave members were surprised to see words start forming on the page. After several lines had appeared, Faegan opened his eyes.
Faegan grinned. “I just called on my gift of Consummate Recollection,” he explained. “As you know, I am able to perfectly recall everything I have ever seen, heard, or read. I used the gift to reproduce one of the many parchments the prince has signed of late. I then used the craft to duplicate it onto this fresh sheet. This document has to do with recent taxes levied against the province of Ephyra. But it’s not the text that interests me.” Then the wizard smiled again. “It’s the prince’s signature I’m after.”
Faegan lifted the two pages, then held them side by side to the light. After a time he nodded, then placed them on the table. “As best these old wizard’s eyes can tell, the signature on Shailiha’s letter is genuine.”
As Shailiha looked around the table, she saw that everyone seemed convinced except Wigg. “What’s wrong?” she asked him.
“You seem to have forgotten our conversation while we were on the way to the Serpent and the Sword,” Wigg answered. “I told you that if Tristan came home, we would have to take measures to ensure that he wasn’t under the influence of the Vagaries. That possibility still concerns me. But out here at sea, there is no way to tell.”
Faegan thoughtfully cast his eyes to the bottom of Tristan’s letter, then smiled. Wigg knew that look. This time it worried him. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m looking at these instructions Tristan left for Shailiha,” Faegan said. “I believe she should follow them.”
“And I don’t!” Wigg shot back. “The last time we saw Tristan he was being taken away by a creature of the Vagaries! There’s no telling what sort of disaster these instructions might produce! For all we know the entire fleet could go up in flames!”
Faegan looked over at the princess and gave her a wink. “What say you, Your Highness?” he asked. “Will you give it a go?”
She reached out and took up Tristan’s letter. As she reread the instructions, she had to admit that she couldn’t guess what might happen. Do as I ask, Tristan had written, and my reason will become clear. It seemed that he was referring to the craft. She had not been trained in the craft and possessed but one usable Forestallment, allowing her communion with the fliers of the fields. But she desperately wanted to believe that it was Tristan who had penned this note, so she decided that she would try.
She looked at Wigg. “I’m sorry,” she said,” but I agree with Faegan.” After putting the letter on the table she closed her eyes.
Following Tristan’s instructions, Shailiha imagined the gold medallion hanging around her neck. Then she imagined Tristan’s medallion hanging alongside hers. To her surprise they combined to form one disc. Shailiha heard people around the table gasp. Worried that Wigg had been right, she opened her eyes.
At first she thought nothing had happened. Then she saw everyone looking at her chest. When she looked down her mouth fell open. A soft, nearly undetectable glow was seeping out from beneath her medallion. She picked it up and turned it toward her face.
The medallion’s underside had changed amazingly. On its surface she saw Tristan sitting in his palace quarters. Abbey and Aeolus were there with him. All three seemed to be waiting for something. The Paragon lay around Tristan’s neck, but his medallion did not.
Suddenly Shailiha saw her brother’s face light up. He just noticed that we’re watching, she realized. He has placed his medallion across from him, so that we can see him and the others. Our medallions can reach across space and time! How marvelous! But how, why…?
She saw Tristan stand. Entranced, Shailiha watched as he came closer to his medallion. Then he held something up for her to see. It was small, made of gold, and twinkled brightly. He smiled at her and nodded. Understanding, Shailiha smiled back. Having seen all she needed, she ended the spell the way the letter’s instructions suggested.
“Amazing,” she breathed. She dropped the gold disc back to her chest.
“Indeed,” Wigg said. “The medallions you and your brother wear have been enchanted in some way. But what did you see when you turned yours up to your face? At that point, the rest of us could no longer view the scene.”
Shailiha smiled again. “I think he was counting on that,” she said. “I also have no doubt that it was truly him.”
“Why?” Faegan asked.
“He showed me a gift that I gave him when he graduated from his Royal Guard training,” she answered. “Since then it has been our little secret. Even our parents never knew about it.”
“What is it?” Wigg asked.
“A small, golden image of Pilgrim, the stallion mother and father gave to him on the same occasion,” Shailiha answered. “I would recognize it anywhere.” Smiling, the princess looked around the table.
“As soon as Duvessa’s scout patrol returns,” she said, “we’re going home.”
CHAPTER LV
AMID THE PLAINTIVE SCREAMS OF THE DYING, SERENAturned to look at Actinius. She smiled.
“I want all the remaining lepers brought here from the Ghetto,” she said. “If we’re forced to continue feeding all of our servants in one place like this, we will need them. We might even be forced to gather up citizens from the countryside. But that doesn’t matter. Parthalon holds enough souls to satisfy our needs.”
Night had fallen several hours ago. Serena and Actinius stood on the guard path atop one of the walls surrounding the Recluse. The Eutracian moons shone brightly down on the lake and the land surrounding the huge castle. As more screams filtered up to their ears, the two mystics looked down at the grisly spectacle.
Shrews and envelopers by the thousands were voraciously feeding on lepers brought from the Ghetto. It was vitally important to keep the beasts alive, even if the Conclave fleet had been destroyed. Once Serena’s mission was fulfilled, the shrews and envelopers would serve as her taskmasters, just as the Minions had done for the sorceresses of the Coven. She wanted them to know who was in control, and that it was she who satisfied their needs.
Like Failee, she worshipped the Vagaries and ruled the Recluse with an iron fist. But there would be vital differences between her and Wigg’s late wife. Serena would directly serve thePon Q’tar. And her power would dominate two nations, rather than just one.
Only minutes ago, several hundred lepers had been herded through the castle’s entryway, across the bridge spanning the lake, and onto the surrounding land. Naked and terrified, at first they had huddled together like they could somehow find safety in numbers. Little had they known that this was the worst thing that they could have done, for it only simplified the beasts’ feeding frenzy.
Sensing prey, shrew herds had surfaced from their hiding places in the lake surrounding the castle, and from the nearby bodies of water that had sprung into being after the sudden deaths of the Coven sorceresses. Not to be outdone, envelopers by the thousands abandoned their camouflage and left their hiding places in the air and against the castle walls to join in the frenzy.
In moments the gorging had reached an insane crescendo. Serena knew full well that there weren’t enough victims for all her creatures to feed on at once. In fact, she had planned things this way.
After launching the vast tidal wave, Serena had every confidence that the Conclave fleet had been destroyed. But if by some miracle it had not, she wanted her servants hungry, and eager to act at a moment’s notice. She had also given instructions that the victims be proffered naked, so as to minimize evidence of the atrocity. The shrews and envelopers left clothing, bones, and footwear behind. After each feeding Serena’s consuls were ordered to
