“Tristan,” Wigg said. “Go to the boot prints, and look closely at the right heel. Tell us what you see.”
The prince rose, and went to study one of the prints. In the center of the glowing heel mark was a dark letter “J.” He bent down, just to be sure, then turned back to the table and reported what he saw.
“Now,” Faegan said, “if you would also be so kind as to turn over Joshua’s boot.”
Tristan walked to the table and turned over the boot. In the center of the heel had been carved the letter “J.” The exact duplicate of the one upon the floor, it stared back silently at him, a clear testament to what had transpired here.
Speechless, Tristan turned to Faegan. “How?” he asked. “How was this done?”
“A little-known use of the craft,” Faegan replied, turning his chair around and staring directly into the eyes of the consul. “I created an elixir that when spread across the floor subsequently vanishes, but can later reveal the tracks of anyone who walks upon it. Because only his boot prints appear in that area, only Joshua has entered and exited the Well of the Redoubt since I poured the elixir onto the floor. As for the mark on the heel, well, ‘J’ obviously stands for ‘Joshua.’ It was carved there by Shawna the Short. She slipped into his chambers while he was asleep, and did the job for me.” Faegan smiled knowingly into the consul’s face.
“But suppose others had gone there, even for innocent reasons?” Celeste asked from the other side of the table. “Or he had used an accomplice? How would you know who they were?”
Faegan grinned impishly. “Because Shawna did everyone’s boots and shoes.”
Reaching down, Tristan quickly removed his right knee boot and carefully examined the heel. Sure enough, a small “T” had been carved into it. He shook his head. As he put the boot back on, he looked over at the fuming consul in the glowing wizard’s cage. And just what will become of him now?
“What made you suspect him?” Shailiha asked.
“First of all,” Wigg answered, “there was the fact that he has been the only consul to ever make it back to the Redoubt alive. Think about it. Didn’t that ever strike you as strange, given the fact that there were roughly three thousand of them out there? Surely if he could escape the hatchlings and make it to safety, so could at least a few of the others. It is our belief that Joshua traveled from squad to squad as Nicholas’ agent, helping the hatchlings to capture the consuls. We had often wondered how the birds could find the squads so easily, and why it was that the consuls’ powers were completely useless against them. It just made no sense. In both cases we believe Joshua used a superior spell given to him by Nicholas, perhaps even placed into his blood by way of Forestallment. A simple blood signature will tell us that. His emaciated condition and dislocated shoulder were a nice touch, as well. A small price to pay for authenticity and sympathy, wouldn’t you say? And so he came to us, at Nicholas’ orders, to tell us his sad story, infiltrate the Redoubt, and begin helping to drain the Paragon.” Wigg paused, collecting his thoughts.
“And then there was the fact that Joshua would not let Geldon unearth Nicholas’ grave in Parthalon, or at least talked him out of it,” he continued. He looked in the general direction of the dwarf, giving him a short, compassionate smile. “Geldon wanted to bring the body here for you, Tristan, so that you might bury it in the grave site of your parents. He thought that as long as he was there, he would do you a kindness, saving you at least that part of the grief. But Joshua couldn’t allow that, because there was no body to bring back, was there? And finally there was his suggestion that we use Ox as your bodyguard. An idea Faegan and I eventually embraced, ordering Tristan to accept. Fiendishly clever, I’ll give the consul that much. We never told you that it had been Joshua’s idea, but it was.”
“I still don’t understand,” Tristan said. “What has Ox got to do with all of this? Is he a traitor, too?”
“No,” Wigg said, shaking his head. “Ox’s heart is pure, and he would gladly die for you. Nicholas wants you protected, for he still hopes that you will join him in his madness. The poison he ordered placed into your system by Scrounge, as he told you himself, provides the ultimate incentive to do so. Things are starting to make more sense, but I’m afraid there are still far more pieces to the puzzle.”
Tristan stared at the consul, stunned that he could be a traitor. “But what about placing the stone in the Well, and you retaining your powers?” he asked. “How could Nicholas do that?”
“No doubt via one or more of the Forestallments placed into his blood by the Heretics,” Wigg answered. “Perhaps even the same Forestallment that allows our ‘friend’ Joshua to help Nicholas accelerate the decay of the Paragon. As I said, a simple test of the consul’s blood signature will reveal much. For if he is innocent, his signature will contain no Forestallments. Isn’t that right, Joshua?”
The consul stayed silent, his lips drawn into a thin line, his eyes seething with hate.
“Assuming Joshua was our culprit, we needed to be able to prove it without a doubt,” Faegan continued. “I assumed he needed to be near the stone to help with its decay. He was occasionally in my presence as I wore it, but not always. By having him help us place the stone in the Well of the Redoubt, we gave him the opportunity—and the temptation. Wigg and I replaced the Paragon around my neck this morning, after Shailiha informed us of Caprice’s observations.”
“But we still have questions, Joshua,” Wigg said. “Questions that you shall answer—one way or another. How was it that Nicholas was able to defeat your death enchantments? And, even more importantly, is there a way by which we can return the power to the stone?”
Joshua produced an evil, twisted smile.
“Very clever, Wigg.” He nodded. “Yes, I have always been his, right from the moment he first revealed his mind to me, even while he was still a child. Even then his power and knowledge of the craft dwarfed anything you and the cripple have ever seen. But why, you are no doubt wondering. Why is it that a trusted consul would do such a thing? I’ll tell you why, you pompous old man. Because Nicholas promised me the one thing you and your vaunted Directorate would never share with any of us who wear the dark blue robes: power. And with that a complete understanding of the craft, especially the darker side. The adept has promised me things that you could never, in your exclusive, infantile practice of the Vigors, ever conceive of. And I wanted them. Oh, yes, Lead Wizard, I wanted them badly.” The wicked smile again contorted his face.
“And there is something else,” he hissed, so quietly his words were almost inaudible. “There are a great many more of the Brotherhood of Consuls just like me—brothers who went over to Nicholas’ cause willingly. A greater number of us than you could ever imagine. The master removed their tattoos so that they could never be identified.” He paused to stare menacingly at Tristan. “But your son didn’t tell you any of that, did he, Chosen One? No. For you see, there is still far more to all of this than any of you can imagine. But you shall never understand it all, for very soon now shall come the Confluence, and you shall all be quite dead.”
Wigg looked as if he had seen a ghost. Darkness passed across his face like a thunderstorm across the sky, and tears welled up in each of his useless eyes. But Faegan seemed less daunted by what he had just heard. Quickly wheeling his chair closer, he faced the consul directly.
“You said ‘the Confluence.’ What do you mean by that?” he demanded urgently.
“It makes no difference whether you are told, for you cannot possibly stop it now, anyway,” Joshua gloated. “The Confluence is the combination of four separate, but equally necessary elements. First comes the azure blood of the Chosen One, which my master already possesses. Second: a sufficient quantity of the blood of endowed children—blood that is gifted, but still malleable. He now has that, too. Third, waters from the Caves of the Paragon. And finally the power of the Paragon, transferred into the willing, azure blood of just one individual—an individual who is completely devoted to the teachings of the Heretics. The individual the Chosen One himself so conveniently took from the womb of the sorceress Succiu and left behind in Parthalon. As I said, it is the Confluence. Through the unique combination of these elements, the Guild of the Heretics will be allowed to return to the earth, to rule once more.”