to turn away as the monster sent its tongue sliding over first one of her cheeks and then the other, exploring them, tasting them. Finally the awful tongue retreated into the waiting mouth.
Knowing that Sigrid was beaten, the thing finally let go. Pointing to the front door of the shop, it hissed again. There could be no question about what it wanted, Sigrid realized. She was to leave the shop as his prisoner. Like Valda and the other Night Witches, she would soon be impaled at the viper master’s pleasure.
There was only one more weapon available to her. It was one that all Minions were born with, one that they carried forever after, and one that Sigrid knew how to use with deadly expertise. It was her last hope, but she was too close to the beast to use it. Everything depended on her gaining some distance from the monster, and the timing had to be perfect.
She nodded submissively, suggesting her surrender. The monster smiled and pointed toward the door, silently ordering her to go first. Clearly he had no intention of turning his back on her. Putting on her best look of defeat, Sigrid shuffled past the beast, then quickly put some precious distance between them. The man-serpent hadn’t counted on her marching to her death so quickly, and that was just what Sigrid had hoped.
When she was about two meters away she abruptly stopped, then turned to the right, placing her at right angles with her captor. Summoning every bit of strength remaining, she snapped open her right wing.
The man-serpent never saw it coming. As Sigrid’s wing flew open, its hard-boned leading edge caught the monster directly across the throat. At first the thing just stood there, gasping and retching. Sigrid immediately retracted her wing and repeated the blow. This time it struck the beast in the forehead. As the light went out of its eyes, its neck made a cracking sound. The thing’s head fell rearward to dangle at an unnatural angle. Then the man-serpent collapsed like a house of cards, dead before it hit the floor.
Cradling her left arm, Sigrid hurried for the rear door. Hoping against hope, she grasped the rusty door handle and gave it a turn. Blessedly, it opened.
The alleyway beyond was dark, dirty, and deserted. Wasting no time, Sigrid ran a few quick steps, then did her best to launch into the air. Her left arm didn’t matter-nothing did, save for getting away. As she struggled to gain altitude she heard another of her Night Witches scream out.
As she curved her way south toward Tammerland, this time her watery eyes were not caused by the passing wind.
CHAPTER XVII
AFTER TAKING A SIP OF ABBEY’S ROBUST TEA, TYRANNY stabbed another cigarillo between her lips and lit it with a match. The Conclave meeting had been going on for some time and she doubted that it would conclude soon. As she casually blew the smoke out her nose, she turned her skeptical gaze toward Faegan.
“We’re listening,” she said drily. “By all means, amaze us with your acumen.”
Tristan smiled. He knew that Tyranny’s sarcasm was in jest. But like Tristan, she accepted nothing on faith, and she was quite comfortable with challenging the Conclave mystics and their theories.
Faegan let go a little laugh. “Very well,” he answered quietly. “I will try to do that very thing.”
Pushing away from the table, he wheeled across the room to a mahogany cabinet. He opened one of the cabinet doors and produced a cylindrical object. Cradling it in his lap, he returned to his place, then gently set the strange item on the table for everyone to see.
Tristan leaned forward to look. The glass jar was about a foot high and six inches in diameter. Its top was sealed with red wax, and it was nearly filled to the brim with subtle matter. The flickering firelight seemed to bring the microscopic bits to life. Such a wondrous and beautiful thing, he thought. I suspect that my venerable mystics have yet to unravel all its secrets.
Faegan pointed at the jar. “As best we know, this is all the subtle matter that exists on our side of the world,” he said. “There is no known way to produce more. But we have learned a little about how to use it.”
“This is the same material that formed the maps of Rustannica and Shashida, and the formulas and the written words that hovered below them,” Shailiha mused. “How did it get into the jar?”
“After the rest of you left the room, Wigg and I stayed behind talking,” Faegan answered. “To our surprise, something else started happening. For the last three days we have done little but try to unravel its secrets. We have made some meager progress, but there are many more riddles about subtle matter that are far from solved. But one use for the amazing substance has come to light.”
“And what is that?” Traax asked.
Wigg leaned forward over the tabletop. “A way to help us cross the Azure Sea,” he answered.
The room went silent. It seemed that no one wanted to ask the obvious question for fear that doing so might make the answer disappear. Finally Tristan placed one hand atop Wigg’s.
“Tell us,” he said softly.
Wigg pointed at the glass jar, causing it to slide toward him. He picked it up and regarded it with great reverence. Then he looked over at theJin’Sai.
“Before now, we believed that only three things could truly employ the power of the craft,” he said. “Can you name them?”
“Certainly,” Tristan answered. He looked at the jewel dangling against Wigg’s chest. “One is the Paragon.”
“And the others?” the First Wizard asked.
“Endowed blood and the red waters of the Caves,” Tristan answered.
Wigg gently placed the jar back atop the table. “Correct,” he said. “Our recent discovery of subtle matter makes four such things. These are indeed days of great importance in our understanding of the craft. But subtle matter holds rare properties that even the Paragon, endowed blood, and cave water do not.”
“What do you mean?” Shailiha asked.
“As you already know, the Paragon and endowed blood are tools by which the power of the Vigors and the Vagaries are made available for certain human beings to use,” Jessamay said. “This power comes from the two opposing orbs. But even the Paragon and endowed blood are mere conduits. Simply put, subtle matter is a unique form of pure magic that has been captured rather than simply empowered. Normally we do not see the magic itself, only its results. But this is magic that can be literally held in one’s hand. The treatise confirmed our suspicion that it is the light of an azure bolt, changed into a different physical form. It is no oversimplification to say that if there is such a thing as enchanted dust, this is it.”
Tristan again stared at the mysterious powder. How incongruous, he thought. So powerful a substance, trapped inside such a fragile vessel. He looked back at Wigg. “Is it alive like endowed blood?” he asked.
Faegan shook his head. “No,” he answered. Then he thoughtfully tugged on his beard, thinking. “Or perhaps I should say that it is not ‘alive’ by any definition of the word that we understand,” he added. “We now command one of its uses, but most of the others still escape us.”
“How did it become trapped in the jar?” Shailiha asked. “Was that the strange happening that you referred to?”
Wigg nodded. “Faegan and I watched in horror as the subtle matter unexpectedly scattered, breaking apart the map, the associated formulas, and the treatise. The subtle matter then coalesced into a cloud and began careening around the room. At first we couldn’t imagine why. Was it about to form another message, perhaps? The longer it flew about, the more it seemed to be searching for something. When it found what it wanted, we got our answer.”
“And what was that?” Tristan asked.
“It needed a resting place,” Wigg answered. “When it neared this ordinary glass jar sitting atop one of the Archives shelves, the jar magically emptied. It previously held several scrolls of small importance. As the scrolls drifted to the floor, the subtle matter immediately flew inside. The red wax seal formed immediately after.” Wigg raised an eyebrow. “It was an interesting process to behold,” he added. Wigg’s talent for understatement was far from lost on him, the prince smiled.
“What then?” Traax asked. “How did you come by all this newfound knowledge?”
“Part of the information hovering below the map was a craft treatise written by the Ones,” Faegan answered. “My guess is that it only scratches the surface of this particular discipline. Only a few uses for subtle matter were
