Somehow, impossibly, the thing with the long, pointed beak full of teeth smiled. “We want you,” it said softly.
With that, the other hatchling that was not holding the bowl walked over to take the inert body of the wizard into its claws. Using one of its powerful feet, the leader roughly pushed the prince down into the sand and curled its long, black claws around Tristan’s body. Struggling against the bird’s unyielding talons, Tristan used up the remainder of his strength.
Stretching their leathery wings, the hatchlings flew toward the horizon of the magnificent, azure sea.
As they did so, Tristan finally lost his battle to stay conscious.
21
Geldon looked down from his litter to see the lush Parthalonian countryside flying by. Joshua, in the litter next to him, still had his eyes closed. It made the dwarf wonder whether the younger man would ever get used to this form of travel.
Peering out into the distance, Geldon could pick out the island upon which the Recluse had stood before its destruction by the aftershocks accompanying the sorceresses’ deaths.
Tristan had given the Minions many orders that day, not the least of which had been for them to rebuild that terrible, imposing fortress. They had also been ordered to strip away any reminders of the Coven, such as the five-pointed star.
Not an easy task, Geldon thought. He squinted, trying to see the remains of the once-great structure. It will be interesting to see what they have done.
As they approached the Recluse, Geldon could not help but be reminded of his life of servitude there. He also thought of the coming of Tristan and Wigg to find Shailiha, who had been kidnapped and subverted by the Coven. Tristan had regained his sister, but he had lost his son. Geldon looked down at the moat surrounding the island and took a deep breath, making a decision.
The prince did not ask me to do this, he thought. But I could see the need in his eyes, and I will honor it.
Geldon waved to Baktar. The leader of the Minions nodded back, coming to fly alongside the dwarf’s litter.
“Drop us at the outside of the Recluse, near the moat!” Geldon shouted to him. “And then go on ahead without us! Please tell Traax that we will join him shortly!”
Baktar nodded. “As you wish!” he shouted back. With that he indicated to the warriors flying the litters of the consul and the dwarf that they should descend.
After a gentle landing, the dwarf and consul climbed out of their litters and, on rather shaky legs, watched the four warriors fly back up to join their brothers. The entire group wheeled around to fly over the broken walls and down into the midst of the Recluse.
“Why are we here, outside of the palace walls?” Joshua asked as he rearranged his robes. “I thought you wanted to meet with Traax.”
“I do. That’s what we ultimately came here for. But there is something I feel should be done first.” Geldon’s dark eyes searched the ground around the moat. “Walk with me,” he said to the consul.
The walk around the perimeter of the island took some time. Finally the dwarf saw what he was looking for. He began walking toward it, the flood of memories from that day coming back to him in a strangely reassuring torrent of both grief and joy.
The little grave lay undisturbed. The many stones still lay peacefully atop it, and a crudely carved marker of wood overlooked the spot. It was the grave of Nicholas, the unborn son of Tristan and Succiu.
Geldon looked down to the rough-hewn wooden marker, reading the words Tristan had carved there.
NICHOLAS II OF THE HOUSE OF GALLAND
You will not be forgotten
Not far from here, according to Tristan, Succiu had jumped from the castle walls, killing herself and the unborn child she carried. Tristan had excised the corpse from her womb to bury it, and Wigg had burned the second mistress’ body, to ash. Geldon’s hands went automatically to his neck, where he had worn the second mistress’s collar for over three centuries. Nothing whatsoever of her was left now, and the thought did not sadden him in the least. Finally, he turned to the consul.
“I have a thought,” he said tentatively. “It might be rather extreme, but—”
“To unearth the child and return his body with us to Eutracia for a proper burial with the royals and the Directorate,” Joshua said softly, finishing his sentence for him. “That is what you were thinking, is it not?”
“Yes,” Geldon answered, returning his gaze sadly back to the little grave. “How did you know?”
“Because it has been in my mind also, ever since the Chosen One asked us to come here,” Joshua answered. “Wigg told me the story, and he also believes it to be Tristan’s wish to eventually bury his son in Eutracia.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “But I have my misgivings,” he finally added.
“And they are?” Geldon asked.
“This child was Tristan’s, not yours or mine. The decision to do such a thing, and also the timing of it, should therefore be his and his alone.” Joshua looked into the dwarf’s eyes with a candor and simplicity of purpose that Geldon found hard to contradict.
“I suppose you’re right,” the dwarf finally said. He took a deep, resigned breath. “We should be getting to the Recluse. Traax will be waiting.”
Joshua peered around, as if looking for something. “Just a moment,” he said cryptically. He spied some orange and yellow flowers on a nearby bank and pointed his right hand at them. The stems obediently pulled their roots from the ground. Narrowing his eyes, Joshua caused the roots to be cut away. The colorful blossoms floated over to the grave, hovered there for a moment, and finally dropped gently down on the cairn.
“Thank you,” Geldon said, finding it difficult to speak.
Placing his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe, Joshua nodded. “Tristan is now my friend too,” he said quietly.
Turning away from the grave, the dwarf and the consul began walking toward the massive wood and iron drawbridge that would carry them over the moat and onto the island, into the scarred, broken castle known as the Recluse.
They have done well here, Geldon thought. They had traversed the great drawbridge, passed through the first portcullis, and were approaching the second. The partial rebuild of the castle could be seen rising within the center of the spacious courtyard.
Every sign of the Pentangle, the five-pointed star of the Coven, had been dutifully eradicated. The Minions had completely cleared away much of the original structure, though light blue marble had again been chosen as the Recluse’s color. The first floor was almost completed, and the circular towers at each of the corners were starting to take shape. The arched windows that would eventually hold heavy, leaded glass could be seen here and there in the walls.
Walking up the marble steps and into the open, still roofless expanses of the first floor, Geldon and Joshua were amazed at the level of activity here. The Minions were swarming over the place like a giant gathering of committed worker bees.
Seemingly thousands of them came and went, many of them shouting orders. The officers, Geldon presumed. Some of them gathered to huddle over drawings laid on crude wooden tables. Others carefully cut and fashioned marble, the dust from their labors flying into the air and occasionally choking off their breath. Still others had the tedious job of using pulleys and ropes to lift and place the magnificent stones into position. Light blue marble dust, noise, sweat, and the groans of physical labor filled the evening air. Some of the workers were lighting torches, to allow the work to continue throughout the night.
The warriors took little notice of Geldon and Joshua. The dwarf was unbothered by this. He realized that of the hundreds of thousands of their total population, many of them here would not know him. Then, he finally saw the Minion women.
He was greatly surprised to see Minion women among the workers. He had never seen one before. Until Tristan had commanded that the brothels be opened, and the women be allowed to take an equal place in Minion society, the females had been strictly relegated to the services of the males. Now they worked alongside the men, seeming quite sure of themselves in their new tasks. Only their awkward gaits—due to the deformities caused by foot binding—remained as a legacy of their previous cruel treatment. Geldon was pleased to see that, according to the prince’s orders, none of their feet were bound.