When he finally landed on the balcony of his late mother’s rooms on the afternoon of the second day, Geldon was there waiting. Tristan walked the bird into the chamber, then dismounted and began removing the saddle and bridle. Geldon closed the balcony doors.
“You have become very good in such a short time,” the hunchbacked dwarf said with a smile. “But there is now business to attend to. The wizards ask for us.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Did they say what it was about?”
“No,” the dwarf answered. “Only that it was important. We are both to go to the antechamber that lies outside the Well of the Redoubt. Now.”
Tristan took a deep breath, shaking off the cold. Then he removed his gray fox coat and slung it over one shoulder. “Very well,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let’s go.”
Inside the chamber, Wigg, Faegan, Shailiha, and Celeste were seated at the ornate table. Behind them, a fire danced merrily in the familiar, light blue fireplace. The prince and Geldon took seats. As always, Tristan found himself acutely aware of Celeste’s presence and the way the fire showed off the highlights in her long, red hair. She smiled at him. Shailiha, on the other hand, looked anxious. Morganna was not with her. But before he could ask her what was going on, the door opened again.
Joshua walked into the room, looked around briefly, and then took a seat at the far end of the table. His hazel eyes took in the group gathered there, then settled on the princess. He smiled.
Faegan cleared his throat. “Now that we are all present, there is something of importance to discuss,” he said sternly. Abruptly he raised one arm, and azure flashed from the ends of his fingers. A wizard’s cage immediately formed about the young consul.
Joshua looked up first in horror, then in fury. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked angrily. “Have you lost your mind?”
Faegan pursed his lips. “No, I think not,” he replied softly. He leveled his gray-green eyes at the younger man. “Tell us, if you would, how it is that you were able to circumvent the death enchantments, considering the fact that you have been practicing the Vagaries?”
Faegan’s question hit Tristan like a thunderbolt. What in the world is the wizard talking about?
Joshua turned to look at Wigg. “What is the meaning of this, Lead Wizard? Surely you cannot be a part of this madness! Tell Faegan that you know me well, and that I have done nothing wrong!”
Wigg sighed long and hard. “You know I cannot do that, Joshua,” he answered. “For you also know that it is not the truth. I may be blind, but there are still some things I am able to see clearly.” He paused for a moment. “And my eyes have finally been opened regarding you.”
“What is it you are accusing me of?” the consul asked frantically, refocusing his attention on Faegan. “I have the right to know!”
“Simply put, you are in league with Nicholas, and we can prove it,” Faegan answered, his face dark. He was literally shaking with anger. It was as if the formidable power he controlled was about to burst forth at any moment in some incredible use of the craft.
“I am not a traitor!” the consul protested. “You have no proof!”
“Oh, but we do,” Faegan countered. “You have been instrumental in helping Nicholas drain the power of the stone. I am now as sure of this as I am my own name. But still, the most interesting piece of the puzzle is how you were able to deny the death enchantments. As a consul of the Redoubt who has willingly taken them upon himself, performing such acts of the Vagaries as I accuse you of would normally result in instant death. So the question remains. Or, put another way, how is it that you continue to live?”
At this, Joshua seemed to calm somewhat. Placing his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe, he lowered his eyes menacingly at the master wizard across from him. This was a Joshua that Tristan had never seen; it was as though something vile had just come over him.
“First show me your proof, cripple,” he shot back.
“Very well,” Faegan answered calmly. He turned to Shailiha. “Princess, if you please.”
As if in concentration, Shailiha lowered her eyes somewhat. And then, from the bookcase behind the table and directly across from the secret door leading into the Well of the Redoubt, came Caprice, Shailiha’s violet-and-yellow flier. She had apparently been hiding in the dark space that would have ordinarily been occupied by an unusually thick, tall volume. Pausing tentatively for a moment on the edge of the shelf, she launched herself into the air, coming to rest on Shailiha’s arm. From there, presumably at the princess’ silent order, the flier flew down to land on the center of the table, her wings opening and closing silently.
For what seemed to be an eternity, no one spoke.
Joshua looked hard at Wigg. There was venom in his eyes. “Is this your idea of a joke?” he snarled. “Do you really expect me to accept the absurd accusations of some perverted creature of the craft? Especially one without the power of speech, who can communicate only with a woman who has just been supposedly cured of the Chimeran Agonies? No, gentlemen—I’m afraid you’ll have to do much better than that.”
“It’s over, Joshua,” Wigg said softly. “The flier, or should I say the princess, told us everything. You have been helping Nicholas drain the power of the stone. In fact, you have probably been doing so since the process first started. We had long wondered why the rate of decay varied so much from one day to the next—almost as if there were more than one force at work. After you, Faegan, and I placed the stone in the Well, Wigg and I placed the flier here, to determine whether anyone would enter the Well of the Redoubt without authorization. From her hidden perch in the bookcase, Caprice saw you. When you left she informed Shailiha, who in turn informed us. Faegan then immediately came here to check. The rate of decay had been increased, and the only changed variable was your presence.”
“Even if all this were somehow true, it isn’t enough, and you both know it,” Joshua protested. “For all I know this is something the two of you made up—an elaborate hoax of some kind, designed to force me from the Brotherhood.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I have never, in my entire life, been to the Well of the Redoubt alone. The only time I have ever been there is with you.”
This seemed to be exactly what Faegan had been waiting for. “Really?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “We thought you might say something like that.” He turned to the prince. “Tristan,” he said, “please remove the consul’s right boot.”
Tristan stared at the old wizard in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Remove the consul’s right boot, and place it on the table in front of me,” Faegan answered calmly. “I have engineered the warp so that you might reach through it without harm. Except for his right foot, I will momentarily immobilize him so that he cannot resist you.”
Still nonplussed, Tristan nonetheless did as he was asked.
“Thank you,” Faegan said as Tristan walked back to his seat. “Now then,” the wizard went on. “Everyone please observe.”
At once the chandeliers in the room began to dim, until finally the only light came from the bars of the cage holding Joshua. In the eerie glow, Faegan turned his wheelchair toward the center of the room, then raised his arm. A glowing broom appeared and hovered silently in the darkness. Then it began to sweep the floor, until its sparkling, glowing bristles had covered it all. With that, Faegan caused the broom to vanish and the lights to come back up. Tristan looked down at the floor, amazed.
A set of very clear boot prints, glowing with the power of the craft, led to the secret wall panel guarding the Well of the Redoubt, and back again.