This was the Forestallment Krassus and the consuls had worked so long and hard to find in the depths of the scroll-the same one Wulfgar would soon unleash upon his unsuspecting enemies.
"What say you now, Eaters of the Dead?" Wulfgar asked calmly.
"Are you truly the Enseterat?" the voices asked reverently. "Has he finally come to us?"
"He who was to have been the first Enseterat is now dead," Wulfgar answered. "He was the son of the Chosen One. I am the brother of the Chosen Ones, and have inherited both the mantle and the glorious, unfinished work of the Enseterat."
"What would you have us do in return for our freedom, Enseterat?" the voices asked.
For several long moments, Wulfgar explained his mission and the rewards he would give them for traveling in his service. Another long silence followed.
"We will serve you, Enseterat," the Necrophagians finally whispered with one voice.
Wulfgar turned to look over at the forty cowering, shivering slaves. "Will you be requiring the offering I brought?" he asked.
"That will not be necessary this time," they whispered back. "For we now have a new master, and where we are going, there shall be many such offerings. If we succeed, we shall no longer need them. And if you fail we shall soon consume all that you are, in any event."
"Very well," Wulfgar answered. Raising his arms again, he levitated himself back aboard.
With the new bargain struck, the hundreds of foggy hands released the ships, and the temperature returned to normal. Wulfgar ordered the fleet's sails unfurled. They snapped open to the easterlies and began moving the ships forward. The terrified slaves were ordered chained belowdecks once again.
As the fleet plowed through the sea, the screechlings, the slitherers, and the Eaters of the Dead, all under the command of the Enseterat, followed dutifully behind in its wake. Wulfgar gazed west, toward the sacred home of his prize.
Everything was going according to plan.
CHAPTER
Sixty-two
A fter sleeping like the dead, Tristan opened his balcony doors to find that a beautiful day had arrived. While bathing and dressing, he realized how hungry he was-not only for a good breakfast from the gnome wives, but for the company of Celeste, as well. He was walking down a hallway contemplating a plan to find her after breakfast when he turned a corner and literally bumped into her, along with Abbey and Shailiha. Celeste was dressed in shiny black knee boots, black riding breeches, a white, low-cut blouse, and black riding gloves. She was holding a basket. Shailiha was pushing Morganna's ornate carriage. Caprice circled lazily overhead, in the spacious heights of the hallway. All three women smiled at him as if they all knew something that he did not. The moment he looked into their faces, he knew what it was.
Celeste had told her friends about the change in her relationship with him. One more thing for Shailiha to tease him about. Things would never be the same.
Celeste came closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The other two women grinned. Tristan blushed.
"I knew we'd find you on the way to the kitchens," Celeste said happily. She held up the basket. "So I took the liberty of putting some breakfast together for us."
Tristan's eyebrows went up. "Again? You're going to make me fat. Besides, I'm on my way to see the wizards. I want to know what they have discovered about the scroll."
"Yes, my prince, breakfast again," Celeste growled back comically, giving him her best look of feigned ferocity. "But a picnic this time. I thought we could go for a ride." Then her face darkened a bit.
"In truth, this was Father's and Faegan's idea," she admitted. "They knew you would be demanding answers as soon as you awakened, and they asked me to keep you occupied for a bit. They have released me from my translation duties, but they said that they would like to see us all on the balcony of your late father's quarters at midday. That's all I know."
"My father's balcony?" he asked, baffled. "Why in the world would they want to meet us there?"
Shailiha shrugged. "We don't know. But they are in a very somber mood-of that there is no doubt. I suggest the two of you get going. Be back by midday at the latest."
Tristan never had liked having his day arranged for him by others. But he had wanted to see Celeste, and his stomach was growling. Besides, if the wizards wouldn't see him, they wouldn't see him; that would be all there was to it.
Then he remembered Marcus and Rebecca. "What about the two children?" he asked. "Where are they?"
"They're in the combined company of Shawna the Short and a Minion overseer," Abbey told him with a quick laugh. "Rebecca is so sweet. But Marcus has proven to be quite a handful. He has already tried to make off with some of the palace silver. But you know Shawna. She put him back in his place quickly. I think he's more frightened of her than he is of the Minions." She smiled. "I don't think Marcus likes it here very much."
Sighing, Tristan gave Abbey a little nod of acknowledgment. Then he turned to Celeste. "Well, I suppose if we're going to go, then we should do so," he said. He relieved her of the basket and took one of her arms into his. Whatever she had packed smelled wonderful, and his stomach growled again.
After pursing his lips at Shailiha, he gave a patronizingly deep bow to his sister and the herbmistress and began guiding Celeste down the halls of the palace. Head high, he pretended he didn't see the wide grins on Shailiha's and Abbey's faces.
The walk to the stables was short and uneventful. Geldon was there as usual, tending to the horses. He saddled a bay mare for Celeste, while Tristan, his face somber, began a rather sad, quiet search for a new mount. When Geldon made a move to help him, Celeste touched the dwarf's arm and placed one finger over her lips. Sighing, Geldon nodded. Celeste was right, he realized. This was something Tristan would want to do-need to do-on his own.
Finally selecting a sturdy tan stallion, Tristan glumly avoided the familiar saddle and bridle he had always used on Pilgrim, and chose others instead. As he turned with the reins in one hand, he saw Celeste tying the basket to the back of her saddle. He looked at her quizzically.
"What's going to keep everything from breaking?" he asked as he mounted. "Or at the very least getting all mixed up?"
Smiling, Celeste gave him a wink. "Father enchanted the containers," she told him. Placing one boot into a stirrup, she easily mounted her horse, then grinned at him. "Want to race?"
Without waiting for an answer, she wheeled her mare around and galloped out of the barn, her red hair flying. Laughing out loud, Tristan spurred his stallion and went after her.
Tristan had never seen Celeste ride, and he was impressed by how confidently she sat her horse. She galloped hard across the stable yard and the palace grounds, then pushed her mare noisily up and over the drawbridge. Several Minion warriors gaped at her as she went by. Then came another quick, skidding left, and she went tearing off into the countryside, charging away so fast she nearly lost him.
Tristan's stallion was not as quick as Pilgrim; in truth, few had ever been. But the horse was surefooted, and it felt good to Tristan to be away from the troubles of the palace and feel the wind hitting his face.
Celeste pointed her mare across an open meadow, Tristan following. The tall grass teased the bottoms of their stirrups, and they left two lanes of crushed grasses in their wake. Then she leapt directly over a section of broken rail fence, splashed unerringly across a small stream, and ran along its opposite bank for a time. As she approached another bend in the river, she stopped, her mare panting hard.