"What do you want of me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Where are Faegan and Celeste?"
Wulfgar smiled. "I have just come from a meeting with them," he answered. "After the application of some rather inventive persuasion, the wizard finally gave up the hiding place of the scroll. Celeste tried to resist me, and for that she paid dearly."
Vivian's knees buckled and she half-sat, half-stumbled into the chair. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Are they dead?" she asked.
"The wizard is alive, but very much the worse for wear. As for Celeste, I have no idea. Nor do I care. I do not wish to speak of them. I wish to discuss you and your future in the craft."
"What are you talking about?"
"I have sought you out for a particular purpose," he answered. "You should be honored. Tell me, what is your name? Do not lie, for I shall know."
As if it could somehow grant a modicum of safety, she retreated a bit more into the chair. "Vivian," she answered. "Vivian, of the House of Wentworth."
For a moment Wulfgar searched her face. Then he smiled again.
"As I walked in invisibility through the Redoubt, I searched for unusually gifted blood," he said. "That is what brought me to your door, Vivian. Do you know that the quality of your blood is quite high? Whosoever of the acolytes would become my servant must have the quality of blood equal to the tasks that shall be asked of her. Sister Adrian-your would-be leader-would have been my first choice. But she is already above ground, among the others of your sisterhood. And for obvious reasons, what must be done to turn you to my cause can only occur in private. You are my second choice, Vivian."
As she began to understand Wulfgar's horrible plan, her fear was slowly replaced by anger. She raised an arm and pointed at him. A narrow beam of the craft shot from her fingertips and barreled straight for his heart.
Slowly, Wulfgar smiled and raised one hand. The azure beam crashed against his palm. The beam fizzled, then dripped harmlessly to the floor. Wulfgar lowered his hand.
"Do not try that again, Vivian," he said. "I have taken pains to find you, and my time grows short. Soon I must complete my business with the Orb of the Vigors. I do not wish to kill you, but if you try my patience again, I will not hesitate to do so."
"What do you want of me?"
Wulfgar pursed his lips in thought.
"I believe that my plan for the orb will succeed," he said. "But if for some reason it should not yet I survive the day, I wish to leave someone here who is loyal to my cause. Such a person could be of great help to me in the future. The recently departed son of the Jin'Sai knew the value of an alternative plan, should his first one fail. His was to leave the Scrolls of the Ancients in the base of the Gates of Dawn. This very moment one of them floats by my side, while its mate is safely ensconced elsewhere. So you see, my child, Nicholas' lessons were not lost upon me."
He took another step closer. Vivian cringed.
"The small legacy of the craft that I plan to leave in my wake will be you, my dear," he added.
Wasting no more time, Wulfgar pointed at her and enveloped her in a wizard's warp. She struggled to break free, but it was hopeless.
He walked closer. Placing his hand upon her forehead, he smiled down at her. She tried to scream. She couldn't.
"There, there," he cooed softly. "Do not fear, my child. You are about to receive the greatest of gifts. I shall redeem you from the twisted mire that is the Vigors, and deliver you to the light." Wulfgar closed his eyes. An azure glow surrounded them both.
Exquisite pain coursed through her, and her body jangled like a marionette's, dancing convulsively upon some unseen master's strings. Her blood pounded so hard through her veins that she could hear her own heartbeat. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and foam dripped from one corner of her mouth. The torment was unrelenting and all-encompassing. Finally it stopped. Wulfgar removed his hand from her forehead and the glow disappeared. She was drenched in sweat, but otherwise felt unharmed.
"Rise and face your new lord," he said.
Vivian smiled as she stood up from the chair. She had never before felt so alive. Raising her arms over her head, she stretched her lithe body like a cat. Wulfgar saw that her gaze held nothing but adoration for him.
"Whom do you serve?" he asked.
"Only you, master."
"And which side of the craft do you cherish above life itself?"
"Only the Vagaries."
"Extend one arm. I must be sure of my work. Do not be afraid. I will temporarily enhance your vision, so that you might see what I see."
Vivian held out one arm. Narrowing his eyes, Wulfgar caused a small incision to form in the soft underside of her wrist and a single blood droplet to well from it. The droplet hovered in the air and immediately began to twist itself into her blood signature.
As she watched it revolve before her eyes, Vivian gasped. Her blood signature had been altered. It now tilted slightly to the left, indicating her new proclivity to practice the Vagaries.
Satisfied, Wulfgar caused the blood signature to vanish and the incision to heal. Vivian stared at him with rapt admiration.
"How is this possible, master?" she breathed.
"In truth, I cannot take the credit," Wulfgar answered. "Your conversion was accomplished via a little known but immensely powerful Forestallment, handed down by Failee, Wigg's deceased wife. Ironic, wouldn't you agree?"
Vivian nodded.
Wulfgar explained her new role as his spy here in the Redoubt. He taught her how to mask her blood signature with an image of her old one. He told her who Bratach was, and described his role in their cause. And he taught her how to use the grains of wheat to leave secret messages in the fountain. Satisfied, he had then taken his leave of her to go to the palace roof to confront the Orb of the Vigors.
Wulfgar had not succeeded in polluting the orb that night. But upon reading the first message left for her by Bratach, Vivian had been overjoyed to learn that her new master had survived, and that he would soon return.
Setting aside those memories, Vivian turned another corner to find herself in the roundabout, where the indigo of the coming night played deftly upon the fountain and its dancing waters. She walked to it and sat down upon its edge.
This time she didn't have to wait for the traffic in the roundabout to lessen. There was no one there to see her take the grains of wheat from her pocket, or notice the narrow bands of azure escaping from between her fingers.
The azure slowly died, and Vivian placed her hand into the water.
CHAPTER LIII
As the door hinges creaked, tyranny realized her mistake. In their haste to prepare an ambush for the approaching demonslavers, she and her little band had neglected to drag the dead slavers along with them. The monsters they had killed still lay sprawled across the stone room.
As soon as they opened the door, the arriving demonslavers would surely see their fallen comrades, and any hope for surprise that Tyranny might have had would vanish in a flash.
Tyranny looked desperately at Scars. He grimly shook his head, telling her that it was too late to do anything about it. Swallowing hard, Shailiha raised her sword a bit higher.
Suddenly they heard a slaver call out, from somewhere along the guard path.
"You, there!" the voice shouted. "No rest for your group yet! Get back to your posts and stay on patrol!"
Still as death, the little war party in the stone room waited and listened. Then they heard some grumbling, and the door was pulled shut. The slavers' footsteps retreated into the distance.