CHAPTER IX
It is for my lost Fledglings that I fear the most. With Duncan’s death and the abandonment of Fledgling House, my precious girls might be anywhere. I am not the young girl I once was, and my remaining days grow short. My greatest hope is that I can somehow see my Fledglings again, before I go to the Afterlife.
STANDING ATOP ONE OF THE CITADEL’S BARBICANS, Serena looked toward the heavens. It was almost midnight, and the sky was angry. Dark clouds gathered ominously, blotting out Eutracia’s three magenta moons. The wind harassed her hair and gown, and the Sea of Whispers crashed mightily in its endless assault against the rocky shore. His hands clasped before him, Einar waited quietly by her side.
I will soon need to summon the craft to remain standing against this wind, Serena thought. The storm is gathering, just as the Heretics said it would.
The Heretics had again communed with her yesterday. As she remembered their words, the heavenly voices seemed as clear tonight as they had then.
“Although theJin’Saitravels with the Darkling, the Conclave plans to move against you,” the Heretics had told her.“You must summon your allies, so that the Citadel is unassailable while Einar and the Valrenkian visit Parthalon. Work the craft tomorrow at midnight, for there will be a great storm. If you fail, all that we wish to do might be rent asunder by the Conclave. We will grant you the proper Forestallment calculations needed to ensure your success.”
She had gone to her knees and lowered her head. There had been much more to their message; she had listened intently. When the Heretics had finished relaying their instructions, she’d told them she would obey.
At first, the combination of azure letters, numbers, and symbols had seemed incomprehensible. But as they had continued to enter her mind she’d started to recognize the elegant thread of genius winding through them. She’d quickly realized that she would need Einar’s help to impart them into her blood signature. It would have to happen soon.
After sending a handmaiden to summon Einar to the Scriptorium, Serena had walked there alone. The Scriptorium was a place of research, where many documents left behind by the Heretics lay in safekeeping. It was there too that she kept the consummately precious Scroll of the Vagaries. As she entered, several consuls in their blue robes nodded reverently, then returned to their work.
Ensconced high in one of the fortress’s corner turrets, the Scriptorium was built of tan stone. Bookcases lining the walls held hundreds of texts and scrolls, some still laden with centuries’ worth of dust. Several dozen desks sat in neat rows, their tops laden with more scrolls, texts, and tools of the craft. Golden candelabras, their candles enchanted to burn forever and without producing smoke, graced the desks’ working surfaces.
Because the hour was late, consuls occupied only a few of the desks. She knew that they would be compiling the results of today’s experiments. Other consuls were busy clearing away the physical remains of Einar and Reznik’s research. Blood could still be seen here and there on the floor. She clearly understood that Reznik had been right about his warning to her. What they needed could no longer be found on the island. The Heretics had been right in telling her to send Einar and Reznik to Parthalon.
She walked to a consul’s desk and looked down. The man quickly abandoned his work to stand before her. He bowed.
“Fetch me a fresh parchment,” she ordered.
The consul scurried to do his queen’s bidding. He opened one of the many desk drawers, selected a clean sheet, then hurried back. Lowering his head, he offered it up.
Serna took the parchment and walked across the room. By now every consul was watching her. Calling the craft, she caused the parchment to rise into the air.
She stepped closer, then shut her eyes as she recalled the magnificent formula. As the azure calculations started swirling in her mind, she concentrated harder, bringing them to the fore. When she was satisfied that she had summoned the entire formula, she pointed to the parchment. A thin azure bolt leaped from her fingertip to the paper. She opened her eyes.
The blank paper started to smoke as she burned the formula into it. Line after line seared its way into the sheet. When she finished, her small azure bolt disappeared. Smoke drifted lazily toward the open windows. Knowing that the consuls would be eager to view her creation, she looked over at them.
“You may approach,” she said. “Come witness some of the Heretics’ wisdom.”
The consuls quickly left their desks to crowd around her. Some gasped at what they saw. They had never imagined such a complex solution. It was like looking into the minds of the Heretics themselves.
“It is a beautiful thing indeed, Your Grace,” Einar said.
Looking up, Serena saw her lead consul approaching. He smiled at her. She smiled back.
“It is, isn’t it?” she replied. She looked at the lesser consuls. “Leave us,” she said. “Our discussion is not for your ears.”
After bowing, the consuls left the room. Einar read the hovering parchment, his dark eyes eagerly absorbing every nuance.
“Amazing,” he breathed. As he scanned the formula, Serena informed him of her recent communion with the Heretics.
He turned to look into Serena’s eyes. Despite his admiration for the calculations and the reasons for their use, concern showed on his face. Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands before him.
“Your Grace understands the risks involved when placing this formula into your blood?” he asked. “The Forestallment it will produce will be especially powerful. This could easily bring about your death, to say nothing of the exquisite pain.”
Serena did not answer. Instead, she turned away, and returned to the window, then looked out over the restless sea. She stood there for some time, watching and remembering. When she turned back, her expression had softened. She looked around the Scriptorium, then back at Einar.
“It was not so long ago-in this same room, in fact-that you infused a similar spell into someone’s blood. It was a spell that had also been gifted to us by the Heretics-one that also promised huge gains in our struggle against the Vigors. I’m sure I needn’t remind you further.”
A contrite look came over Einar’s face. “I remember, Your Grace,” he answered. “My only concern was for your welfare.” Yielding to her authority, he bowed.
Einar would never forget the night she had mentioned. At long last, the formula for the index of the Scroll of the Vagaries had been acquired. Once imbued into Wulfgar’s blood, it would grant him the ability to immediately search out and identify any of the thousands of formulas written on the scroll. It had been a huge leap forward in their understanding of the Vagaries.
The Forestallments Wulfgar’s blood carried were a direct result of theEnseterat allowing Einar to imbue the index formula into his blood. He could then choose whatever spells he wished, granting them to his queen. He had done so with great care.
Einar had seen Serena’s blood signature only once-the day that she had miscarried her child. Literally hundreds of Forestallment branches were evident. Coupled with her inordinately high blood quality, she was truly a living force of the craft. He believed that her gifts even surpassed those of Failee, the late First Mistress of the Coven of Sorceresses. Looking into her eyes, he saw the same unsatisfied hunger burning there that had once consumed Wulfgar.
Even so, Einar was hesitant. His similar use of the craft on Wulfgar had taken nearly all night; the intense pain had nearly killed Wulfgar. Worrying Einar even more was the fact that Serena’s blood quality-although inordinately high-was not her late husband’s equal.
Wulfgar’s death had been a horrible shock to them all. Serena’s majestic gifts, and her dead baby girl still
