bows would face into the prevailing wind coming off the Sea of Whispers. Each massive spine measured just over one hundred meters long and curved skyward for fifty meters at each end. Huge timber braces curved away from the spines at regular intervals and also rose upward for fifty meters. Buttresses made of more stout wood stood angled against the braces, their opposite ends shoved deeply into the earth for support.
Wigg had searched high and low for the original Black Ship plans, and he had finally found them buried among the countless other documents that had been scattered about in the Archives of the Redoubt. With the plans at their disposal, Jessamay and the Minion engineers could ensure a perfect fit when the four Black Ships finally came home to roost. The aft ends of the cradles were left open so that the huge stern doors of the ships could be easily lowered for the loading and unloading of supplies, weapons, and troops.
Tristan would be greatly relieved to have the vessels stationed so near to the palace rather than moored at the Cavalon Delta. With the ships constantly supplied and their Minion crews and acolyte pilots always at the ready, the ships could be ordered airborne at a moment’s notice. Tristan had read Tyranny’s sea trials report and he had accepted her suggestion about permanently assigning the four Minion phalanxes to Black Ship duty. He had also told the acolytes Astrid, Phoebe, and Claire that they were to be the ships’ permanent pilots. But Tristan believed that Sister Adrian was too valuable to be assigned to the flagshipTammerland on a permanent basis. When Adrian returned with the fleet he would order her to select and train another acolyte in her place.
Tristan laid down his sledge and turned to look at Ox. “I’ve had enough of pounding these spikes for a while,” he said. “Shall we go and see how Jessamay is doing?”
The giant warrior smiled. If ordered by Tristan, he would gladly swing his heavy sledge until his heart gave out. He gave hisJin’Sai a wide grin.
“Ox glad to quit,” he said. Reaching down, he retrieved Tristan’s weapons from the ground and handed them to him. As Tristan strapped his sword and throwing knives into place, Ox looked around the construction site.
“Minions do well here,” he said. “Me hopeJin’Sai be proud.”
Tristan smiled and laid one hand atop the warrior’s shoulder. Ox had saved his life more than once, and there were few souls in the world that he trusted more.
“Since entering my service that fateful day in Parthalon, the Minions have always given me pride,” he answered, “and sometimes you above all.”
As though Tristan had just given Ox the keys to the kingdom, the warrior puffed his chest out with pride. Without further ado the pair started over to where Jessamay was working.
Cutting the thousands of trees needed to build the ships’ cradles had been a daunting enough task. But carefully heating and bending the massive, freshly laminated braces so that they would exactly conform to the Black Ships’ hulls was another matter entirely. Tristan knew that given enough time, the Minion warriors could probably have done the job. But he wanted ships home soon, so he had decided to speed the process via the craft. Intrigued by the challenge, Jessamay had eagerly volunteered. For the last three months she had done little else but toil on the massive cradles.
The Vigors sorceress stood about thirty meters away, occasionally waving her arms and shouting out orders to the warrior engineers assigned to help her. With her long blond hair tied behind her back and dressed as she was in leather trousers, scuffed knee boots, and a simple white linen peasant’s blouse, she looked more like a Eutracian commoner than a valued member of the Conclave. Tristan smiled as he approached. Jessamay was many things, but commonplace wasn’t one of them.
The warrioress Duvessa was standing by Jessamay’s side and barking out orders with equal verve. As Minion Premier Healer and the leader of the cadres of female combat warriors, she commanded great respect. Traax’s wife was an attractive Minion with green eyes. As it was today, her black hair was often tied into twisted braids. A pair of crossed feathers was embroidered into the breastplate of her leather armor. The white feather showed her rank as Premier Healer, and the red one signified her command of the female warriors who participated in combat.
A crude worktable stood before the two women, its top strewn with parchments and diagrams. A stout canvas lay stretched atop wooden poles, shielding the women and the ancient documents from the sun. As Tristan and Ox gratefully took advantage of the shade, the women looked up.
“How is it coming?” Tristan asked.
“We’re nearly done,” Jessamay answered. “There’s just one more brace to shape and install.” She raised her arm and pointed toward the construction site.
Tristan looked out from the shade to see several dozen horses being led their way by Minion warriors. Taken from the palace stables, the thirty-six steeds were harnessed in pairs to a huge, flat cart that had been built solely for moving the massive uprights. Despite the powerful horses, the cart and its odd-looking load neared with agonizing slowness. Realizing that this last brace measured a good fifty meters long and another ten meters around, Tristan couldn’t begin to imagine how much the thing weighed.
As the sweating horses finally pulled the cart to a stop, Jessamay scooped up one of the parchments from the table and went to inspect this last brace. Tristan, Ox, and Duvessa followed.
Like its brothers, the brace was a wondrous example of Minion craftsmanship. The warriors had selected Eutracian oak because of its great strength and high resistance to inclement weather. The massive brace was actually a series of smaller and thinner oak slats that had been carefully cut to size, then glued together. Just now the brace was as straight as an arrow, but that would soon change.
Jessamay spent much time looking at the brace, then consulting her diagram, then looking back at the brace again. She then produced a long measuring string from her trousers and used it to confirm her findings. Finally satisfied, she nodded and returned the string to her pocket.
“It’ll do,” she said simply.
Tristan smiled as he anticipated the next part of the process. He had seen Jessamay do this several times before, and each time it had amazed him. Because of the great length and thickness of the laminated braces, even Jessamay could only bend them a little at a time. This brace would be no exception.
The Vigors sorceress ordered the Minions to unharness the horses and lead them away; then she asked that Ox, Tristan, and Duvessa come and stand behind her. As the three spectators moved into place, Jessamay raised her arms.
At once the far end of the massive brace started to glow. As the azure hue intensified, Jessamay concentrated harder. Soon the near end of the beam began to curve, and hissing steam rose from it to disappear high into the air. When the sorceress was satisfied, she dropped her arms and the azure hue vanished. Taking up her parchment and her string again, she went to check on the first stage of what would be a long and arduous process.
For the next two hours she fussed, measured, and employed the craft to repeatedly force the length of the beam into the proper shape. The curve had to be just right, lest the last cradle become misaligned and cause its Black Ship to sit crookedly. Worse yet, if one beam was misshapen, the others might not be able to withstand the added strain, causing the entire cradle to collapse.
Once the beam cooled, she would order the Minions to ferry it to the last cradle. The warriors would then use great cranes and pulleys to lift it into place and immediately buttress it with side shores. They would then pound spikes into it to join it to the spine, just as Tristan and Ox had been doing. Finally the hundreds of needed crossbraces would be added to strengthen the cradle and to hold the entire framework together.
Glad to be done with her work, Jessamay walked tiredly back to the makeshift shelter. Taking a bottle of claret and several wooden cups from a nearby picnic basket, she placed them on the worktable. By the time the others joined her, all four cups were filled.
Raising her cup, Jessamay watched the others follow suit. She then looked out at the four massive cradles sitting side by side on their stone foundations. Lined up that way, they took up a huge area. Once the Black Ships lay in them, the sight would be even more impressive. Proud to have been a part of this effort, she returned her attention to the others.
“To the Black Ships!” she toasted. “May they take us far and always bring us home again!”
Everyone smiled at that. After draining his cup, Tristan refilled it. But just as he was about to take another drink, he noticed an odd tingling in his blood. He looked up to see that everyone was staring strangely at him. He soon realized that they weren’t looking at his face, but at the gold medallion lying around his neck. He looked down to see that the medallion was glowing.
Tristan was delighted. This was the first time that Shailiha had called on her matching medallion to
