The Lord of the Vagaries walked to the open section of the wall and went down on his knees. He lifted his face to the heavens. As he did, the beautiful choir of voices came to him once more.
You have done well, the Heretics told him. You have raised the Black Ships, and you have conjured the beasts that will help you lay waste to the lairs of our enemies. It is now time for you to raise your other endowed servants from the depths. Of the hundreds condemned by the Coven of Sorceresses, only seven remain strong enough to rise and serve you. The calculations required for this feat are to be found within the Scroll of the Vagaries. To secure them, employ the index forestalled in your blood. Once your servants are among you, you may begin your campaign to rid the world of the Vigors and all those who would practice them.
I will obey, Wulfgar responded silently.
For the rest of the night, the Enseterat searched. Activating the proper Forestallment, he mentally scanned the scroll's index. Thousands of glowing numbers and letters floated before his mind's eye. Finally he found the ones he was looking for. Now knowing the locations of the calculations in the massive scroll, Wulfgar read them aloud while Einar recorded them on a piece of parchment. As he looked out over the sea, Wulfgar held that same parchment in his hand. After more than three hundred years of imprisonment, the onetime servants of the Coven would rise to serve him.
Serena touched her husband's good arm.
"Forgive me, my lord," she said. "But what is it that the Heretics have asked you to do? You have yet to tell me."
Wulfgar smiled. Then he looked down at the parchment.
"Watch and learn, my love," he said and began to recite the calculations in Old Eutracian.
As the sea before them began to burble and roil, Serena thought she must be seeing things. She looked over at Einar, but her husband's lead consul said nothing.
Then ghoulish faces appeared, rising to the surface of the sea and Serena understood. They were the Necrophagians-the Eaters of the Dead. Wulfgar paused in his incantation and lowered the parchment.
Seven faces lay just beneath the surface of the waves. Their skin was a putrid gray-green. Their eyes and mouths were no more than dark holes in their faces. The faces were covered with boils, and the awful moaning they made was the most plaintive sound Serena had ever heard. It was as if they were in some form of mortal agony and begging to be released from it. Wulfgar raised the parchment once again and resumed reading the calculations aloud.
The heavens began to tremble and azure lightning ripped across the morning sky. Thunder tore through the air. The wind howled, causing the sea to crash against the shore. The Enseterat dropped the parchment to the ground and raised his hands to the sky.
Lighting bolts shot down to strike the faces in the sea. The shoreline began to shake, and the waves crashed even harder. Fearing for her unborn child, Serena placed a hand over her abdomen and stepped back.
As the wind raged and the lightning cascaded across the sky, the faces in the water slowly submerged. Then the heavens quieted and an eerie calm descended. The Sea of Whispers became as smooth as glass. The seven Necrophagians were gone.
Serena stepped back to her husband's side. "What has become of them?" she asked. "Are they dead?"
Wulfgar did not take his eyes from the sea. "Quite the contrary," he said. "In fact, they are even more alive than before. And they owe it all to me, their new lord. Behold."
He walked to the very edge of the water and raised his arms again.
"Come to me," he said.
Seven heads broke the surface of the sea. Each wore a long, arched, black hat, folded up along one side and adorned with a long red feather that pointed rearward. Below the hats the heads were mere skulls, the bone blackened. Some showed cracks here and there. Their lidless eyes glowed an eerie green. Below the eyes, nasal cavities lay exposed. Lipless mouths showed teeth of the purest white, in sharp contrast with the rest of the macabre faces.
Bodies rising from the sea, they stepped silently onto the shore, the tatters of what looked like ancient military uniforms flapping in the breeze. Their boots and long capes were black, their breastplates tarnished silver. Each wore a sword, a dagger, or both.
They came to stand in a line before their new lord. Then they dropped to one knee and bowed their dark, dripping heads. With a shudder, Serena turned to her husband.
"They look like the officers of some long-defeated army," she said.
Smiling, Wulfgar looked over at his queen. "Well done, my love," he answered. "That is exactly what they are."
He turned back to his new servants. "You may rise," he said. They stood.
As the seawater dripped from them, Serena wondered what purpose these creatures were to serve. She knew her husband would tell her in his own good time.
With a menacing smile on his face, the Enseterat turned and led his wife, his consul, and his new officers back to the Citadel.
CHAPTER XXXIII
All of his senses alert, Wigg tentatively walked into the large inner chamber. It smelled damp and musty, as though its door hadn't been opened for centuries.
There were more tables and bookcases, and tools of the craft lay scattered about. At least two dozen small alcoves lined the walls. Within each, a raggedly clothed skeleton hung chained to the wall, its bones slumped to the floor in an awkward posture. Wigg could not be sure what had killed these poor souls, but he had a fair idea of who had been responsible. Then he heard the pleading voice once more.
"Wigg…is that you?"
He walked deeper into the room. In an alcove in the far wall lay a chained woman, curled into a fetal position, shaking. Her once colorful gown had long since become faded rags, and her blond hair was snarled. She was filthy, but not emaciated. From the ceiling, a cone of azure light shone down upon her, bathing her in its glow.
Wigg finally recognized her and tears welled up in his eyes. He slowly went to one knee and looked into her face.
"Jessamay?" he said. He reached out to touch her.
"No!" she shrieked.
Like a cornered animal, she retreated farther into the alcove. She shook harder. She pointed to the cone of azure light.
"If the boundaries of the glow are improperly violated, I will die!" Lowering her head, she began to cry.
After a time she raised her face. "Please, you must believe me," she whispered.
Still stunned, Wigg sat back on his heels. "Jessamay, it is really you?" he asked softly. The woman nodded.
"But how-why are you here?" he stammered. It was all he could do to get the words out. "The Directorate thought you dead."
"Death would have been preferable," the woman said. "Failee brought us here. We were the subjects of her experiments. I am the only one who survived."
On all fours, she carefully inched closer to the edge of the azure light. As if still unable to believe who she saw, she searched his face again.
"Wigg…," she whispered, "after all this time… You look much older than I remember. But it is you, just the same." Then she suddenly bolted upright and panic stormed over her face.
"You must leave here at once!" She looked frantically around the room. "If the Coven finds you, they will kill you on sight!"
Wigg smiled. "It's all right," he said. "The members of the Coven have been dead for many months. Their ashes lay just beyond this door."
At first she looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Then, realizing he spoke the truth, she smiled and tears of joy ran down her face.