aeons ago-Wigg said so himself. What if it is no longer true? What if thePon Q’tar is out there waiting for you instead? What if-”
Tristan gently placed his fingers against her lips. “There can be no more ‘what ifs,’” he said. “I’m going and that’s that. Of course I’ll do my best to return. But if I do not, you must be prepared to rule Eutracia. Value the advice of the remaining Conclave members, but make each decision your own. They’re not always right, you know.” Smiling again, he wiped away one of her tears.
“Besides,” he added, “as you said, they certainly like to bicker!”
“Yes,” Shailiha added, “especially Wigg and Faegan.”
Tristan reached out to take her medallion into his hand. “Don’t forget this,” he said reassuringly. “You can see me whenever you want. But remember-do not overuse the spell, and be sure that the medallion remains in your possession at all times. When Miriam charmed our medallions, she warned me of these things. Always keep them in mind.”
Tristan let the medallion fall back onto Shailiha’s chest. “Have the Viper Lord and his followers been sighted?” he asked.
Shailiha shook her head. “Even the Night Witch patrols cannot find them. It’s as if they dropped off the face of the earth. How can a force that large simply vanish?”
Tristan shook his head. “They might be using the craft to help them hide,” he offered. “But it would seem that even a wizard as powerful as the Viper Lord would eventually tire and reveal his position. I admit that it’s puzzling. When you find them, let Faegan help form your plan. But when it comes to the very real and dirty business of fighting, take your advice from Traax. You can rely on his judgment completely. In many ways I wish he was coming with me. But because only two phalanxes sail with my group, he will better serve us here.”
Deciding that the time had come to say goodbye, Tristan smiled at his sister as best he could. “If I don’t come back-”
“Don’t say that,” she insisted. “I just know that-”
Just then another knock came on the double doors. Wondering who it might be, Tristan rose from his chair.
“Enter,” he called out softly, trying not to wake Morganna.
The doors parted to reveal Aeolus standing there. Tristan beckoned him inside. After Aeolus paid his respects to the princess, Tristan bade him sit down. The mystic’s expression was serious.
“Forgive the intrusion, Jin’Sai, but I wanted to speak with you privately before you leave tomorrow,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Tristan asked.
Aeolus gave Tristan a weary smile. “Do you mean aside from Eutracia being overrun by beings of the Vagaries and you and half the Conclave sailing off into the unknown tomorrow?” he asked. “Truth be told, before you leave I want to talk to you about your gift ofK’Shari. ”
Suddenly the wizard’s expression darkened a bit. “If this is a private moment, I will gladly return later,” he added quietly.
Tristan smiled. “Whatever you would say to me you can say in Shai’s presence as well,” he answered. “There are no secrets between us.”
“Good,” Aeolus answered. He poured a glass of wine and took a discerning sip, then looked into Tristan’s eyes.
“I wish we had been able to train together longer,” he said. “Even so, I have come to understand that you are the real master and I the student. Always remember that yourK’Shari will be stronger than mine because your blood is much more powerful. During your travels, should you need to call on your gift, you must be careful. Do not become overconfident, and take nothing for granted.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Before answering, Aeolus set his glass on the table. “The beings you might meet on the other side are presumably far more advanced than we-especially in the science of the craft,” he said. “Moreover, the forestallment formula that granted youK’Shari was found in one of the Scrolls. That means that they had the gift long before we did. If you must fight, always remember that your opponent might commandK’Shari too-and to a higher degree and with greater experience than you possess. Furthermore, your gift is called forth automatically, while mine is not, and only your sword glows with the color of the craft. Despite many hours of searching for an answer, Wigg, Jessamay, and I still cannot explain it. You must trust in your gift, for that is all you can do. Do not fight the feeling when it comes over you, and let your actions flow through your body naturally. Only then might you defeat an enemy on the other side with equal talents.”
Tristan appreciated Aeolus’ advice. During the battle to retake the Recluse, fighting techniques both armed and unarmed had come to him unexpectedly and effortlessly, allowing him to do wondrous things. And his sword had indeed glowed with the color of the craft.
Later in Crysenium he had fought and defeated Xanthus, his first opponent who also commanded the gift ofK’Shari. The battle had raged like some desperate war between two titans. Whenever Tristan’s dreggan or Xanthus’ axe missed its target and struck something else, they had utterly destroyed it. Tristan had never felt such power, and he had to admit that a part of him was eager to experience it again. But until now he had not considered the dangers that Aeolus was describing. Like Wigg and Faegan, sometimes Aeolus could make him feel very small.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t looked at it that way. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Aeolus answered. “And now I will take my leave.”
As the mystic stood, Tristan stood with him. “Please watch over my sister while I’m away,” the prince said. “I’m relying on you two to destroy the Viper Lord and his servants.”
Aeolus gave Tristan reassuring wink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered. After saying good night to Shailiha he let himself out, the doors closing quietly behind him.
Tristan continued to gaze at the closed doors for several moments, thinking.
“He’s a good man,” he finally said. “Despite what our mystics might say about the quality of your blood and mine, we’ll never fully appreciate everything they’ve gone through for the sake of the Vigors. Sometimes I have to force myself to remember that each of them is more than three centuries old.”
Shailiha looked back at Morganna to see that her daughter was still fast asleep. When she looked back at her brother, her expression was sad but resigned.
“It’s late and we should go,” she said. “Just promise me that you’ll return.”
Tristan stood, as did his sister. He gave her a short smile.
“Such a promise would be unfair,” he answered. “But I will do my best. In your absence make sure that Shawna looks after Morganna. You could never find a better nanny, despite how ornery she can be!”
Shailiha’s laugh sounded brittle and forced-as if she wanted to let go but couldn’t find it within her to do so. Grabbing the lapels of Tristan’s worn leather vest, she tugged on them and gave him a ferocious look.
“Just come back,” she ordered. “Don’t force me to come to Shashida and find you!”
The princess went to take Morganna into her arms, the child grumbling softly before settling back down into a deep sleep. On reaching the doors Shailiha gave her brother a final, lingering look, then she was gone. Sighing deeply, Tristan sat down again and sipped his wine.
Goodbye, my sister, he thought. May we each find what we’re searching for.
As it happened, he would not sleep that night, but sat on the balcony until dawn, lost in his thoughts.
Robert Newcomb
Rise of the Blood Royal
III
MAGIC ANDGOLD
CHAPTER XXIII
