"You must believe me," she said, gently but insistently. "At this point, everyone on The People's Revenge wants to get home as quickly as you do. But we must have the necessary sails to speed our ship, or we may never make it at all." A small smile crossed her lips. "Unless you'd like to row again, of course."
Tristan found his mood softening. Nonetheless, his mind was still full of unanswered questions. "But why do you say that this place has to do with the wizards?" he asked. "How could you possibly know that? Why is it so dangerous? Why did some of your men choose to stay there?"
She gave a short laugh. "You sound like a schoolboy!"
Tristan felt his face flush with embarrassment.
Suddenly the commanding, calculating expression returned to her blue eyes, and she let go of his hands. "No more questions now," she said. "The Isle of Sanctuary is but one day's sail from here, even in our current condition. You will have all of your answers soon enough. Now please help me up. I'm still dizzy, but I must get topside and look over my ships." The wry smile came again. "The crewmembers need to know their captain is still able to pull her own weight."
Standing, Tristan reached down to help her. As she rose to meet him, she winced at a pain in her left thigh and stumbled against him. For a long, uncomfortable moment, they stared into each other's eyes. Then he turned and helped her up the stairway to go look over her crippled ships.
It would be a depressing sight.
CHAPTER
Thirty-four
A s Wigg and Faegan followed the ancient watchwoman through the portal, they were engulfed in darkness again, save for the light that came from the Paragon hanging around Faegan's neck. Then the watchwoman stopped. Without turning around she raised one white, fleshless hand in a gesture of warning.
"Follow my footsteps exactly, and do not stray from the path," she ordered. "The fall on either side is endless."
She set off again, tapping her wooden staff against either edge of the stony path as she went along. Tentatively, the wizards followed behind her in single file. Fog loomed up on all sides, and the air was so cold that the wizards could see their breath streaming out before them. Although their minds were still brimming over with questions, neither of them spoke.
At one point, Faegan produced a gold coin from the pocket of his robe and tossed it over the side of the path. Using the craft, he trebled his wizard's hearing and waited for the sound.
None came.
After that, both wizards picked their steps with even greater care.
Finally the watchwoman stopped and indicated that it was safe for the wizards to come up alongside her. When they did, she raised her hands.
Radiance stones lining the ceiling immediately began to glow with sage light. As they grew in brightness, the light from the Paragon faded, until at last the jewel returned to its normal state.
Faegan and Wigg saw that they were standing in a very large cavern. Within the boundaries of its walls lay a small lake, its waters glowing with the hue of the craft. Fog steamed up from the lake surface and encroached onto the jagged shoreline.
All around the lake rose tall, black rocks whose slick sides shimmered in the glow from the lake. On the edge of the shore lay a small rowboat. There were no oars to be seen. A slight breeze rippled the water and rustled the wizards' hair; it felt good on their faces.
Looking out at the azure lake, Wigg was reminded of the azure waters he had seen in the Caves of the Paragon, just before he and Tristan had been bled and taken to Ragnar, Nicholas' servant. He wondered how it was that such waters could exist here, as well.
Without speaking, the watchwoman walked to the boat, pushed it into the water, and climbed into its stern. Raising her staff, she then beckoned the two wizards forward to join her. After exchanging a quick, questioning look with Faegan, Wigg stepped into the boat first. Then Faegan levitated his chair up and over the side, joining him.
Still silent, the watchwoman began using her staff to pole them across the fog-shrouded lake. After a time the fog parted, and the wizards could see the far wall of the cavern, where it plunged down into the azure lake. Seven circular openings had been carved into it in a row, each filled about halfway with water. A light breeze emanated from each of them, softly disturbing the surface of the water.
The watchwoman carefully guided the little boat into the center opening and began pushing them down a long, dark tunnel. She paused only to raise her skeletal hands to illuminate the radiance stones that lined the roof of this place, as well, but though their light was very bright, they revealed little. It seemed to be a stone passageway, nothing more.
At last Wigg thought he could see an azure glow that signified the end of the tunnel. The watchwoman stopped poling the boat, and it slowly came to rest.
"You search for the way to untangle the herbs and precious oils of the craft, you say?" she asked in her raspy voice.
As Wigg turned around to face her, he saw that there was still nothing but empty darkness within the depths of her hood. "Yes," he answered.
"Very well, then," she replied. Pushing down on her staff, she levered the boat forward again. "Behold," she said.
As they exited the tunnel, the wizards were faced with a vision of such serene majesty that it nearly made them weep.
The square, stone chamber was huge, stretching at least one hundred meters in all directions. There was no fog here. The waters of the tunnel spilled out into yet another large lake of glowing azure, this one so bright that its light filled the space and streamed across the stone walls and ceiling.
As they approached the far end of the chamber, a sloped, earthen embankment could be seen stretching completely from one of the side walls to the other. Its surface was covered with variegated vines and dark, strong-looking roots. The sharply sloped embankment rose upward in layered, horizontal tiers. Each wide, flat step of earth held what looked to be dozens of small pools of azure water. Water flowed from holes in the rock wall above the highest tier to tumble gracefully from one pool into the next, all the way down to the lake.
In each pool grew plants of the craft, their stems and blossoms rising just above the surface to create individual, floating gardens. These plants were bursting with every possible color, a vibrant rainbow of living energy. As the brilliant water coming from the wall above ran down and into each of the tiered pools, it burbled happily, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and the surface of the lake.
As the wizards stared, entranced, they became aware of the incredible scents in the air. Each mingled with the next, yet was somehow also singularly distinct to the nose.
If these gardens were not what they once had been, Wigg could not even conceive of what they might have looked like in their prime. As it was, their beauty was so great it made his heart ache.
"The floating gardens of the Chambers of Penitence," Faegan breathed, hardly able to contain his joy. "The Tome was right. They really do exist!" But his delight faded as the watchwoman began pushing their boat away from the gardens, rather than toward them.
"Where are you taking us?" he asked anxiously. "What we require is back there, is it not, in the tiered gardens?"
"Indeed," the watchwoman answered quietly, as her macabre hands continued to steer the boat toward the sheer rock wall to their right. "But before I give you what you need, one of you must pay the price. Then, and only then, am I allowed to grant you entrance to the gardens and provide you with what you seek."
Wigg and Faegan looked at each other tentatively, but they said nothing.
Approaching the shore near the far wall, she gently beached the boat and indicated that they should disembark. Then she began walking along the rocky shoreline. The wizards followed.
She soon came to stand before a plain, square doorway carved into the rock wall. There she turned to them. The darkness within the hood of her robe was as impenetrable as ever.