"No," she replied. "She awaits within. I am but one left by those you call the Ones Who Came Before. I oversee the first of the tests required to successfully enter and leave this Chamber of Penitence. Do you wish to enter?"
The lips closed again, and the amazing azure eyes continued to regard the two wizards in silence.
Fascinated, Faegan floated closer to the beautiful, dark face. "Yes," he said simply. "We wish to enter."
The stone lips parted again. "And do you both know that there is a psychic price to be paid for what can be learned here? Be warned, for it may be a demand that your human minds find too dear to survive."
"What is this psychic price?" Faegan asked.
"That is not my place to say," she answered softly. "The watchwoman of the gardens will tell you more, should I deign to let you enter."
"And how may we enter?" Wigg asked.
"You must pass my test," she answered. The beautiful face remained expressionless. "I must first be sure that you are not practitioners of the Vagaries. The knowledge kept within must never be allowed to pass into the hands of those who would prefer to practice the darker aspects of the craft."
For the first time she showed emotion, her lips turning up slightly at the corners. "There is still so much neither of you understand about the craft, or the true history of this land," she answered softly.
His eyes gleaming with curiosity, Faegan leaned forward in his chair. "Tell us more," he implored. "I beg you."
"No," she answered. "Educating you is not my mission. It is now time for you to be tested."
"What is it we must do?" Wigg asked.
"Nothing," she answered. "I shall do it all. Each of you please expose one of your wrists."
Wigg and Faegan did as she asked. Almost immediately the familiar, azure glow of the craft coalesced around their bare wrists. In each, a small incision appeared painlessly, allowing a single drop of blood to escape. As the incisions closed and the azure glow disappeared, the two blood droplets, hovering in the air, immediately began twisting into their respective blood signatures.
The eyes in the black face then narrowed slightly, and the glow of the craft appeared again, this time surrounding the two blood signatures. The signatures began to enlarge, until each of them was about two meters across in length.
Spellbound, the wizards stared in awe until the huge blood signatures faded and then disappeared.
"Clearly, you are both of the Vigors," the Stone Woman said. "So now it is time for you to decide. Do you still wish to enter this Chamber of Penitence?"
Faegan turned to the lead wizard. Wigg took a deep, apprehensive breath, then nodded. Faegan looked back into the lovely, azure eyes.
"We do," he said.
"Very well," she answered. "Behold."
Her mouth opened wider, exposing perfect, white teeth. Farther and farther her lips parted, until the opening was about two meters high. Only fathomless darkness could be seen beyond, its depths occasionally interrupted by haunting, eerie flashes of azure light, like lightning across a night sky. Then her eyes closed, and she remained still.
Faegan again looked at Wigg, who responded with a raised eyebrow. Without speaking further, the two wizards glided forward, entering the Chamber of Penitence.
From where they stood on the sea cliffs above, Ox and the other Minions of Day and Night watched in horror as the wizards disappeared into darkness and the lovely stone mouth closed behind them.
CHAPTER
Twenty-seven
"I 'm afraid, Marcus," Rebecca said quietly. "I've never done anything like this before. Are you sure this is going to work?"
She shivered in the cold of the early morning, as she held tightly onto her brother's strong, comforting hand. Her stomach growled again. She hadn't had enough to eat this morning, and this place Marcus had led her to scared her. Hoping her brother knew what he was doing, she limped alongside him through the human carnival known as Bargainer's Square.
With the demise of the Royal Guard, Bargainer's Square had become a hotbed of vice and crime. It seemed to Marcus as if all of the wicked of Eutracia had for some reason suddenly descended on this single spot. It had been Bargainer's Square where he had accidentally found himself the night he had narrowly evaded the old harlot and her partner, running for his life down the dark, lamplit street. But from that wayward experience had also come an unexpected blessing: the rug shop where he had finally stopped running to catch his breath.
He had taken little notice of it at the time, but now, two days later, he had suddenly realized how the little shop might be of great help with his problem regarding the scroll. And so he had visited the shop once it was open and had formulated his plan. Yesterday he had brazenly stolen the contents of the canvas bag now slung over his shoulder. Today he would act. Looking into 'Becca's trusting brown eyes, he gave her an encouraging smile.
"I know it's scary here," he said as he led her through the bizarre maze of people, noises, and vice. "And I'm sorry. But you must trust me. I haven't steered us wrong yet, have I? Now stay close to me, keep your head down, and try not to talk. We don't need any undue attention."
Nodding and biting her lip, Rebecca tried to smile.
Bargainer's Square was actually a huge, circular plaza, paved with cobblestones. A great many streets opened onto the gathering place from various directions.
Shouting, cursing, and the smells of bad food and cheap liquor wafted on the breeze. Street vendors, each of them trying to holler louder than the next, filled the area. Virtually all of the men and many of the women were armed in some fashion. Seeing two children walking alone in this part of town was highly unusual, and many furtive, lecherous glances came their way. Whores, pimps, and male prostitutes stood on the corners, their leering smiles tacitly promising sex for money. Cockfights and dogfights could easily be found in the alleyways, with men and women crowded around them, eagerly throwing their money away.
Marcus gripped Rebecca's hand tighter, and they continued on.
When they reached the rug shop, he guided Rebecca to the other side of the busy street and into the opening of a relatively quiet alleyway. Peering out, he verified that the store was indeed open for business. From what he could see through the parted double doors, the shop already had a smattering of patrons inside, which he considered a good thing. When the time came, he would need all the distractions he could get.
Kneeling down before her, he pointed to the store. "That's it," he whispered. "I'll go inside first, while you wait here. After a few moments, if you don't see me come back out, walk in and begin doing as I instructed you. Keep one eye on me. When you see that I have gone, make your way out and meet me where I told you to, all right?"
Trying to be brave, Rebecca nodded. Giving her a final, encouraging smile, Marcus started across the street.
He approached the shop casually, and entered as nonchalantly as he could. Inside, the proprietor was going from one patron to another, eagerly explaining to them why he or she simply could not live another moment without one of his beautiful, most certainly inexpensive rugs. He was a stout man whom Marcus was sure wouldn't be able to run very well-yet another plus for choosing this place.
Marcus ambled over to a pile of rugs in one corner, his eyes going to the back of the shop. There was a short counter that ran partway across the back, leaving a space for access to the rear door. A brief smile crossed his lips: everything was in perfect order.
The rear door of the shop was wide open to allow a cooling morning draft for the heavy, already sweating proprietor, just as it had been the last time Marcus had visited here. The owner, it seemed, was nothing if not a creature of habit. Feeling the weight of the bag across his shoulder, Marcus thought of its contents and smiled again. Then, turning his head toward the door, he saw 'Becca enter the shop. She looked scared to death.