Even after his painstaking examination of the bird while it had remained unconscious, he still had serious doubts as to his plan. So had Wigg. After hearing of Faegan’s idea, he had instantly blustered and argued, finally saying he could not give his blessing to such a thing. He had instead gone off to meditate, trying to envision how he could somehow come to a compromise with Faegan. But in his heart Wigg knew it would probably have to be all or nothing. Half measures certainly would not work, and might prove to be even more dangerous.
Faegan could easily understand Wigg’s concern, for such a thing had never been attempted. Their knowledge of this particular branch of the craft was still very much in its infancy. But these were extraordinary times, he had told Wigg, and they needed to make use of any advantage they could think of. Even one this tenuous. And they needed to do it quickly.
Faegan again put the violin beneath his chin and started to play, going over in his mind the few facts that he had become relatively sure of regarding the bird. The hatchling had not spoken, but the wizard believed it was able to. When Faegan had first produced the instrument and begun playing it, the bird’s red eyes had widened, and it shuffled back and forth as if in surprise. It had started to form a word but had then closed its beak. It was no doubt under orders to remain silent if captured, Faegan realized.
He was quite sure that the hatchlings were a product of the Vagaries, since they were not only used for destruction but also seemed to relish their work. He knew that the spell needed to conjure such beasts was very intricate indeed, and had most assuredly been given to Nicholas by the Heretics via Forestallment. This last point, he reasoned, was the worst of the problems.
As he played, the unfazed hatchling continued to stare hatefully at him from between the glowing bars of its cage.
Faegan heard the massive door open and knew without turning that it must be Wigg. He put aside his violin to lead his old friend to a chair.
After a very long sigh of resignation, Wigg spoke. “Are you sure there is no other way to accomplish your idea?” he asked. “This is so risky I don’t even know how to begin to broach my many concerns! Such a thing has never been tried before, and we still know so little about Forestallments! And it is her very life we are talking about, not just her mind. Are you sure there is no other way?”
“We have been over and over this,” Faegan answered gently. “If you have a better plan, I am ready to listen. But as we sit and do nothing, every moment that passes Nicholas grows stronger, and we weaker. I checked the Paragon again today, and more than half of its color is now gone. I’m sure that you, like me, have sensed the acute reduction in your powers. Not a very pleasant experience, is it? It is time, Wigg. Like it or not I feel we have to proceed, before we both become powerless. And as the stone weakens, so does my warp that holds the hatchling at bay, and it’s far too valuable to kill.” He smiled coyly, though he knew Wigg couldn’t see the expression. “Do you really want it running loose through the palace, Lead Wizard?”
Scowling, Wigg ignored Faegan’s sarcasm. “But do you really believe the strength of her blood will prevail?” he asked. Uncharacteristically, he wrung his hands. “I know the theory proves itself on paper, but there is still so much about Nicholas and his spells that we do not know, not to mention the Heretics . . .”
“I too have grave doubts,” Faegan said. “It is true that again exposing her mind to the Vagaries, especially after her vicious treatment by the Coven, may be the end of her. But I believe her Forestallment, coupled with the nearly unparalleled quality of her blood, will overcome. Provided she agrees I feel we must push forward. Did she accompany you here?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Wigg answered. “She waits in the hall. Given the nature of the situation, I requested that she leave the baby with Martha. I have explained nothing of this to her. But if we are to do this, there is something I must insist upon. She must know everything involved—especially the reasons for this and the accompanying risks. Only then can I consent. May the Afterlife grant us success.”
“The Afterlife is precisely the problem, is it not, old friend?” Faegan asked, unknowingly echoing Wigg’s thoughts of the previous day. “Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, I love her too.”
Wigg nodded resignedly, tacitly giving his consent.
Faegan rolled himself to the door and opened it, then ushered Shailiha in.
This was her first time to see the hatchling, and on noticing it she took a step back, looking nervously from one wizard to the other.
“It cannot harm you,” Faegan said gently, motioning her to a chair.
“Is this the creature that Tristan brought to the Redoubt?” she asked, coiling up a little as she sat in a nearby chair.
“Yes,” Wigg said.
Shailiha stared at it a moment longer, then turned to the wizards. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked. “What is it that you desire of me?”
In careful, measured tones, Faegan and Wigg began to explain their plan to her. At first she did not respond. But as they finally described the most important part of it, she shrank back farther into the chair. They told her that what she was about to do must be of her own free will, but that it was not just for the sake of her brother that she would be making the attempt, but also for the survival of her entire nation. And then they told her why it must be done. Upon hearing this, her eyes went wide. They went on to say what she must do should the process be successful.
“There is another fact you need to know,” Wigg said softly. “It is entirely possible that you could die in this attempt. We believe the spell used to conjure the hatchling will be very powerful indeed, having come directly from the Heretics themselves. Given your relative weakness from the Chimeran Agonies, we cannot be sure your blood will be able to stand the strain. But we feel its virtually unsurpassed quality will win out.”
Shailiha nodded her understanding.
“And one last thing,” Faegan added. “Perhaps the most difficult of all, in fact, given how much you love the prince. Should you be successful, no one outside of this room is to know what happened here. No one. No matter the circumstances. Especially Tristan. And for the good of us all, we will eventually be forced to tell him a lie. A lie that he must believe totally, and without hesitation. It will become imperative that you join with us in this. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” she said quietly, staring at the awful thing in the cage.
“Come to me, Princess,” Wigg said.
Shailiha walked to him. He felt for her hands and took them in his own. “What say you?” he asked. “Will you do this thing?”
She turned to look at the beast in the cage. The hatchling stared hatefully back at her with its grotesque, red eyes.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I owe you, Faegan, and Tristan my very existence. And I love you all more than my life. I also know that you mean only well in all of this. Therefore, I will try.”
“Very well,” Wigg replied, his voice cracking with emotion. He turned toward the other wizard. “Faegan, if you please,” he said.
“Of course.” Narrowing his eyes, Faegan encapsulated the bird’s body in an additional manifestation of the craft. At first the beast tried to struggle, but in the end it settled down, unable to move in any way.
Shailiha walked slowly toward the glowing cage. Stopping before it, she looked back to Faegan for a sign of support. Smiling slightly, he nodded to her.
Shailiha took a deep breath and tentatively slid one of her hands into the cage.