Given his tenuous but hopeful new hypothesis, he had immediately gone to the Archives to do research. It had taken some time, but he eventually found the rather esoteric calculations he was looking for. Then had come several hours in one of the Redoubt laboratories, laboring to get the mixture just right.
Due to his reduced powers, it had taken him far longer to accomplish this than normal. The hard-won result was the glowing fluid he now held.
“Are you really sure that this is going to work?” Wigg asked, ever the skeptic.
“What’s wrong, Wigg?” Faegan retorted impishly. “Do you no longer trust my abilities?” His experience of being back in one of the laboratories again, even though difficult, had energized him. Just as it always did. Research, followed by the successful physical application of its results, were his favorite aspects of the craft.
“Let’s see,” he continued, feigning an air of ignorance. “First it was the Forestallments I had to convince you of. You fought back hard on that one. And then came the bond between Shailiha and the hatchling. You were highly skeptical about that one, too. But I was correct on both counts, I believe. Will you never be able to admit that I sometimes get things right?” His gray-green eyes twinkled, and he dangled the beaker tauntingly at Wigg, even though he knew his friend could not see him doing so. “Would you like to try for two out of three?”
Unwilling to join into the game, Wigg simply sighed. “Has Shawna the Short done her part in this foolishness?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Faegan said happily. “She informed me this very morning that she was quite finished. And she took great relish in it, I can assure you. It took her the past two evenings to finally accomplish her mission without raising suspicion. She has, of course, absolutely no idea why I would request something so bizarre. She has also been sworn to secrecy regarding her actions.” Faegan smiled. “She certainly loves a good mystery. Almost childish about it, in fact.”
She’s not the only one, Wigg thought. “Let’s get on with it,” he growled.
Closing his eyes, Faegan levitated Wigg in his chair. Then he levitated himself, chair and all, in the same fashion, and carefully removed the stopper from the beaker. He slowly poured the azure fluid out into a small, glowing puddle on the floor of the room.
His expression became more serious, and he closed his eyes in concentration. Almost immediately the fluid began to spread across the floor, finally progressing from wall to wall and corner to corner. Not one scintilla was left uncovered. And then, after several moments had passed, the fluid completely disappeared.
Faegan opened his eyes, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Time to go, Wigg,” he said softly. “Our work here is done.”
With that, the single door at the opposite side of the room swung open by itself and the two wizards floated from the room, coming to rest on the floor of the hallway outside.
The great mahogany door closed firmly upon its strange secret as the two ancient friends made their way back down the hallways of the Redoubt.
42
Tristan sat with Faegan, Wigg, and Shailiha behind closed doors in the Archives of the Redoubt. As usual, Morganna slept in the sling across Shailiha’s chest. It had taken the prince some time to relate his experiences in Parthalon.
The wizards’ expressions had become far graver when they heard the macabre tale of the Necrophagians.
“We simply cannot allow the armada to cross,” Faegan said. “The Necrophagians’ bargain was with the Coven, and the sorceresses are all dead. We have no way to know whether the bargain would still be honored, and we can’t risk losing all those warriors for nothing.” He thought for a moment. “We must send Ox back to Parthalon immediately, with written orders from Tristan to belay the sailing.” He stroked his blue cat as it contentedly purred in his lap. “It seems I shall just have to speed up my efforts to find a way of both widening the portal, and holding it open longer.” He sighed deeply. “But it shall not be easy.”
Tristan looked to Shailiha. She seemed more pale somehow, and weaker. “Are you all right?” he asked earnestly. “Did something happen to you while I was away?”
Knowing how much she cared for her brother and how difficult it was for her to lie to him, the two wizards held their breath, hoping against hope she would say the right thing. Shailiha stifled the urge to bite her lower lip, a dead giveaway whenever she was unsure of herself.
“I’m fine, little brother,” she said reassuringly. She reached out, gently touching the gold medallion that hung around his neck. “No need to worry. I think I’m just tired from all of the excitement.” She saw the wizards uncoil a little. Deftly changing the subject, she took up Tristan’s right hand. “Was it bad?” she asked, referring to his second convulsion.
“Yes, Shai,” he said quietly. “I have never experienced such pain in my life. My right arm is now somewhat weaker, and very sore. Had Ox not been with me, I might have swallowed my tongue and suffocated. I still can’t get used to the fact that a Minion has become one of my friends.” He turned to the wizards. “I don’t suppose there is any point in my asking whether you two are any closer to finding a cure?”
Faegan shook his head slowly. “But we do have something else for you,” Faegan added. “A surprise! Something that I believe will cheer you up.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” he asked skeptically.
“For the answer, you must follow us to the upper levels,” Faegan answered cryptically. Without waiting for Tristan’s response he began wheeling toward the door. “Shall we go?”
Tristan dutifully followed the two wizards and his sister out of the Redoubt and up into the broken, looted palace rooms above. He eventually found himself standing before the doors that once barred entrance to his mother’s private chambers.
“And just what is it that you all think is so interesting here?” he asked. One corner of his mouth came up.
“Why don’t you open the door and see for yourself?” Wigg asked him. The smile was one of the few Tristan had seen on the lead wizard’s face in weeks, and it only added to the deepening mystery. The prince took a breath and then turned the doorknob, walking purposefully into the once-sumptuous room.
Considering the fact that the wizards were involved, he could have witnessed any number of bizarre things in these rooms, and he knew it. But what stood before him now was the last thing he had ever expected. Especially here, in his mother’s chambers.
The hatchling he and Ox had captured stood in the center of the room on its strong rear legs. Seeing the bird was for some reason free of its wizard’s cage, Tristan began to reach for his dreggan. But then he saw that the bird was calm, and was regarding him with only mild interest.
Faegan cackled. “You won’t be needing your sword. I suggest you take another look.”
Tristan carefully examined the beast. Something about it was clearly different. And then, recognizing why, he immediately understood what was going on.
They’ve broken it, or trained it somehow! he realized.
The bird made no move to escape out the open balcony doors behind it. Tristan’s eyes immediately went to the odd-looking saddle and stirrup combination that had been cinched to the hatchling’s back, and then to the bridle and reins. His eyes widened with sudden realization.
They actually expect me to ride it! Ride through the sky!
He turned back to the three of them, his jaw slack, to see that they were all smiling from ear to ear. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Not at all,” Wigg replied. “But in all fairness we have some explaining to do.”
“An understatement, I’m sure,” Tristan muttered. He turned to his sister. “I assume you knew about this,” he added.