had been fascinated byK’Shari ever since first hearing about it years ago, during his Royal Guard training. Then he had taken his unexpected journey with Xanthus and returned home to meet Aeolus-the same man the fable described. These two unexpected events had only heightened his need to know.
More important, he had seen firsthand the kinds of things that Xanthus and Aeolus could do, and he wanted those skills for himself. But he fully understood Wigg’s concerns. He gave the old wizard a reassuring smile.
“I would think that as an accomplished graduate of Aeolus’ teachings, you’d understand how badly I want this,” he chided Wigg.
Wigg stopped walking and looked into Tristan’s eyes. “That’s just it,” he answered. “I understand the need all too well. But that doesn’t mean that gainingK’Shari this way is a good idea. We can’t be sure about what the spell will do to you. We can’t even know whether it’s something the Envoys of Crysenium would object to.” One of the wizard’s eyebrows went up. “They expect you to return, you know.”
Tristan put a hand on Wigg’s shoulder. “Thank you for your concern,” he said. “But this is going to happen, with or without your blessing. Let’s join the others, shall we?”
Knowing that Tristan wouldn’t change his mind, Wigg finally gave in. Walking on, they took one of the many staircases down into the Redoubt and eventually arrived at Faegan’s quarters. Tristan knocked on the door; then he and Wigg walked in.
As Tristan had requested, only Faegan, Shailiha, and Aeolus were waiting there. They were sitting at a table and talking in hushed, worried tones. Two rolled-up parchments lay atop the table. The prince was relieved that the entire Conclave membership was not present. If theK’Shari Forestallment proved painful, there was no need for the others to see him suffer.
Shailiha came to him and took his hands in hers. Her expression was worried, nearly desperate.
“Please don’t do this!” she breathed. “I know how badly you want it, but what if something goes wrong?” As she searched his face, tears came to her eyes. “I might lose my only brother,” she added softly. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“You won’t lose me, I promise,” he answered. Then his eyes took on a knowing, faraway look. “Something tells me that it will be all right…”
He looked over at Faegan. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Faegan nodded. But like the others, he seemed worried. “Yes,” the wizard said. “But I must protest this hurried use of-”
Raising a hand, Tristan stopped him in midsentence. “We’re going to do this. I assume you want me to be seated?”
“Yes,” Faegan answered. Reaching across the table, he took up the two small scrolls and unrolled them. He handed one to Wigg.
Tristan walked across the room. After removing his weapons and placing them on the floor, he sat in an upholstered chair. He looked at the two wizards.
“I suggest that you bind me,” he said.
Faegan nodded. At once azure bands secured the prince’s limbs to the chair’s arms and legs. He tested the constraints to find that they were as unforgiving as iron manacles.
“You may start,” he said.
Before Wigg and Faegan could act, Shailiha returned to Tristan’s side. Her eyes had become tearful again.
“Is this worth the risk?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tristan answered quietly. “No matter how much pain it might cause me, I want this.” He nodded at the wizards; then he looked at Aeolus. Aeolus nodded back.
He understands, Tristan realized, even if the others do not.
“Good luck,” Aeolus said. Then he gave Tristan a wink. “If this works, you and I will share a unique bond.”
By earlier agreement, Wigg would first read the calculations summoning the gift ofK’Shari. Then Faegan would call the spell allowing the Forestallment to be placed into Tristan’s blood. Because they had never granted a Forestallment before, the wizards did not know what to expect, or how long the process might take.
As Wigg started his incantation, Shailiha reached out to take Tristan by the hand. He gave her a reassuring smile, then closed his eyes.
At first Tristan felt nothing, prompting him to wonder whether something had gone awry. After finishing his part, Wigg lowered his scroll. It was Faegan’s turn. As the crippled wizard called his spell, pain started roiling up in the prince.
Suddenly every nerve in Tristan’s being came afire, and he started to scream. Soon his body was dripping sweat and convulsively dancing like a marionette at the end of unseen strings. His spasmodic jerking became so violent that the chair literally jumped up and down against the floor. Foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes drifted shut. As the pain went through him he gripped Shailiha’s hand so strongly that she feared he might break her fingers. But she refused to let go.
Then it was over. Tristan had gone unconscious, and his skin had turned a pale, ghostly white. As his grip slackened, he slumped forward in his chair.
Desperately worried, Shailiha looked beseechingly at the wizards. All three mystics ran over to Tristan. As Faegan ended the spell binding the prince to the chair, Aeolus reached out and caught him in his arms.
“Put him on the bed!” Faegan shouted.
As Tristan lay on the bed, his breathing became desperately ragged and his head lolled to one side. Drool ran from his mouth to fall on the pillow. Wigg placed a palm on Tristan’s forehead, then closed his eyes. After a time he removed his hand and looked at Shailiha.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There has been a great disturbance in his blood,” Wigg answered. “With the supposed addition of the Forestallment, his blood pounds through his veins quickly, and hotly.”
“Will he live?” Shailiha whispered.
Wigg shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Shaking with worry, Shailiha looked down at her brother with tearful eyes. “I told you not to do this,” she whispered angrily, barely able to get the words out.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“The only thing wecan do,” Wigg answered. “We wait.”
THREE HOURS LATER, WIGG, SHAILIHA, FAEGAN, AND AEOLUSwere still waiting for Tristan to regain consciousness. With every passing moment, Shailiha became more worried. Knowing that not one of them would leave until they knew more about Tristan’s condition, Shawna had brought food and drink. But Shailiha and the mystics had eaten little.
Turning to look back at her brother for what seemed like the hundredth time, Shailiha brushed away a tear. Faegan placed a hand over hers.
“Can’t you do anything more?” she asked. “He looks so helpless lying there.”
Faegan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “As we told the prince yesterday, with the granting of our first Forestallment, we have sailed into uncharted waters. His fate rests with the Afterlife. All we can do is pray, and hope that Tristan hasn’t forced us to make a horrible mistake.”
Plainly worried, Aeolus placed his hands flat on the tabletop. Since joining the Conclave, his martial uniform had been replaced by a simple, dark green robe.
“We must shoulder some of the blame for allowing it,” Aeolus said. “But one thing is certain. Even without the benefit ofK’Shari, he is the fastest learner I have ever taught. I believe that his natural abilities surpass even those wielded by Satine. If he survives and the gift ofK’Shari becomes his, he might become the greatest weapons and hand-to-hand combat master the world has ever seen. I daresay his gifts would quickly dwarf mine.” After thinking for a moment, Aeolus gave Faegan a questioning glance.
“Something just occurred to me,” he said. “Did theK’Shari calculations hold only the ability allowing Tristan to call it forth? Or was a predetermined ability to perform martial techniques incorporated into the formula as well?”
Despite the grave circumstances, Faegan managed a brief smile. “I thought you’d never ask,” he answered. “The calculation that Wigg recited did indeed hold weapon and hand-to-hand techniques. As I perused the spell,
