“Think,”Xanthus replied. “The answer you seek is hiding in plain sight.”
Tristan suddenly realized that Xanthus was treating him much the same way Wigg and Faegan often did, after he asked a question about the craft. They would sometimes keep the answer from him, forcing him to reason it out on his own. But despite the Darkling’s surprisingly quiet nature, this creature was no friend.
At first Tristan couldn’t imagine what the answer might be. Then Xanthus turned to him again, showing what little there was of his face. There was no skin, no bone, and no hair. The orbs floated hauntingly in the hood’s depths, accompanied only by teeth that were exposed whenever Xanthus opened his mouth. A mere spirit, he had said.
Tristan looked down at the Paragon hanging around the Darkling’s neck. Its deep, bloodred color had returned, signaling that it had accepted Xanthus as its new host. Suddenly the prince understood.
“You say your Darkling half is mere spirit,” he mused. “If that’s true then your spirit side likely contains no flesh, bone, or blood. If it has no blood, then your Darkling half cannot provide the host needed by the Paragon. That is accomplished only by your human side. That is why the Heretics gave it to you. Not because they wanted to, I suspect, but rather because they were forced to do so if you were to successfully take the stone.”
“And…?” Xanthus asked.
Tristan tried to make sense of Xanthus’ inference. He found sitting beside a campfire and talking craft theory with a mortal enemy maddening. It was like he was somehow being fattened up for the kill, and could do nothing about it.
“Your human half, even though I cannot see it, must coexist at all times with your darkling half,” he said. “If it did not, the stone would die.”
Tristan understood now. Xanthus’ human side sustained the stone, while his Darkling side-the side that he showed-provided the invincibility needed to carry out his mission. In turn, the stone provided the bait Tristan must follow, or risk the Paragon’s death. If that happened, magic would disappear forever.
Looking at the ground, he shook his head. The Heretics’ plan was elegant, foolproof. Like it or not, he had no choice but to follow this monster.
“But why must I go willingly?” he asked. “A being with your gifts could easily kidnap me, forcing me to come.”
The glowing smile appeared for a moment. “Like the way the misguided Coven abducted your sister?” Xanthus asked. “Only to warp her mind until it was nearly unrecognizable? And all so that she would do their bidding as little more than a common slave? No, Jin’Sai -the Heretics are not so crude. True, they wished for Failee’s success, for it would have furthered their overall cause. But brilliant as the First Mistress was, they easily saw the flaws in her plan-flaws compounded by her madness. Nor were Nicholas or Wulfgar successful against you, despite the Heretics’ guidance.”
Xanthus paused for a moment as he caused another log to land atop the fire.
“Even I cannot answer why you must go willingly,” he added. “But I suspect that it has to do with yourtrue nature, and why you are upon the earth. Only the Heretics know such things. When you finally stand before them, they will tell you.”
Tristan suddenly felt a rush go through his blood. His next words came only as a whisper.
“Do you mean to say-?”
“Yes,” Xanthus interrupted. “If you accompany me through the pass, you will finally come face-to-face with one of the two factions that know all there is about you and your sister’s existences. Neither is what you believe, Jin’Sai. Your wizards, although brilliant, have been wrong in many respects.”
His mind racing, Tristan stared into the fire. If he followed Xanthus through the azure pass, the many secrets he so longed to unravel might be his. But he also realized that if the Heretics wanted him in their midst, their reasons wouldn’t be benign. His blood, although still untrained, was supposedly of the highest quality the world had ever seen. As much as he wanted answers, surrendering his person to the same beings who had originated and perfected the Vagaries was unthinkable.
He had to devise some way to take the Paragon from Xanthus and escape. But what if he found no way to take the stone? Would he watch Xanthus disappear into the pass with it forever? Or would he follow him, giving both the stone and himself over to the Heretics?
Something told him that he must do what he had always done when faced with an enemy of the Vigors. He would fight against what they wanted, simply because they wanted it.
“I won’t follow you,” he said softly.
“The Heretics warned me that this would be your stance,” Xanthus said, “at least at first. I understand your need to kill me and to take the stone. That’s simply the nature of your blood. But again, you’re forgetting something.”
“What?” he asked.
“The Paragon’s theft was meant to induce you to follow me, at least at first,” Xanthus answered. “The Heretics have been watching you since your birth. They might know you better than you know yourself. They suspected that you would struggle against their wishes, simply because they worship the Vagaries. Your stubborn nature precedes you, Jin’Sai. ” Xanthus looked into the fire again.
“Let us be honest with ourselves,” he went on. “You will stay with me until we reach the pass because it is in the craft’s best interests for you to do so. But your heart tells you that when we arrive, you should refuse to go in with me. Why? Because you believe that your blood must not fall into the Heretics’ hands. The Heretics expected as much. They knew that another, even more potent inducement needed to be found. That is another reason for my Darkling side.”
“The atrocities,” Tristan whispered.
“Yes,” Xanthus answered. “There is a village near here called Everhaven. It will be our first stop. If you continue to resist going through the pass, what I will do there will be but the beginning.”
Tristan’s anger rose again. Even though he knew it was impossible, he wanted to kill Xanthus with his own two hands. How sweet it would feel to crush the Darkling’s throat and watch the blue light abandon his venomous eyes. Remembering that attacking Xanthus would prove pointless, he tried to calm himself.
“Why must the torture start tomorrow,” he asked hatefully, “when we have yet to reach the pass?”
“Yet another object lesson,” Xanthus answered. “As we go, you will be forced to see what horrors will occur until you consent. You must resign yourself to this, Jin’Sai. The wheels are in motion, and neither of us can stop them. There is no other choice.”
Tristan stiffened as he watched the Darkling reach into one duster pocket. What Xanthus produced was surprising. It was Tristan’s black ball mask, somehow magically ferreted away by Xanthus before they left the palace. The Darkling handed it to him. Not knowing what else to do, he took it.
“Why give me this?” Tristan asked.
“The Heretics have been gracious enough to offer it,” Xanthus answered. “I suggest that you respect their wishes. When morning comes, you may find that you want it-perhaps desperately so.”
“I still don’t understand,” Tristan protested.
“But you soon will,” Xanthus said ominously. “It will take us several days to reach the pass because we will be traveling on horseback, rather than by the craft. Unless, of course, you decide to honor the Heretics’ wishes. If you do, I promise you that the wonders you will behold will dwarf your wildest dreams. Consent and I will take us there in the blink of an eye. Refuse, and the atrocities will continue. As I said when you first awoke-how long it takes us to arrive, and what happens when we do, depend entirely on you.”
Tristan looked around. The river was still unmoving, the wind nonexistent, the night creatures silent. He looked back at the Darkling.
“Why does nature still in your presence?” he asked. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“The phenomenon has to do withK’Shari, ” Xanthus answered. “But that is a topic for another time.”
Tristan looked down toward the fire. He realized that he was still holding the mask, and shoved it beneath his vest. Soon another question occurred to him.
“If your Darkling half protects you from harm, yet you never show your human half, then how could an enemy possibly kill you?” he asked. “It still seems that you don’t need my protection.”
“I did not say that my human half is never shown,” Xanthus answered, “but there are only two reasons why it appears. Unlike my Darkling half, my human half needs food, water, and sleep to survive. My human half sleeps while unrevealed. But when we take our meals together, I must appear to you that way.”
