As if suddenly possessed, she turned and looked southeast, over the roofs of the houses. Tammerland, she thought. The royal palace was there. She felt compelled to go to the palace. She had never been so drawn to anything in her life.
But visiting the royal residence was forbidden to acolytes. The wizards' punishment for such a transgression was said to be severe. But how could something her heart of hearts was so desperately telling her to do be so very wrong? She didn't know, for what she was experiencing went against every iota of her training. But the urge was irresistible, and she realized that if she did not go, her heart might burst from the longing.
As if in a dream, Adrian found herself turning her horse around and pointing him down the road leading to Tammerland.
She could not know that all her sisters in the craft were experiencing the same thing-being drawn to Tammerland, the country's capital and seat of the craft.
E xhausted, Wigg opened his eyes and lowered his arms. It was just after dawn, and he and Faegan had been working through the night, trying to make use of one of the calculations they had found in the scroll. The lamps of the Redoubt burned brightly, and the Scroll of the Vigors hovered nearby, partially unrolled, glowing with the power of the craft.
"Is it done?" Faegan asked quietly. He sat at a nearby table, in his wheeled chair. Nicodemus lay across his lap, purring contentedly.
"It is as done as I can make it, old friend," the lead wizard answered tiredly. Shuffling his way around the table, he took a seat next to Faegan. "Only time will tell whether it will truly work."
Faegan decided to change the subject. "Have you talked to them yet?" he asked. "Have you told Tristan and Celeste about the warning we found this morning?"
"No," Wigg answered with a sigh. "Frankly, I don't know how to bring myself to do it. They love each other so much…"
Faegan's face darkened, and he rolled his chair a bit closer. "You cannot wait any longer, Wigg!" he said sternly. "You know it as well as I! I will do the deed for you, if you cannot. But either way, they must be told. I know it will break their hearts, and that they have already suffered far more loss than any two people should ever have to endure. But we owe it to them, nonetheless."
The lead wizard looked down at his hands, as if wishing to somehow avoid the issue entirely. A tear came to one of his eyes. Tristan and Celeste had both been through so much already, he thought. How could he do this to them? Still, for the good of the craft, he had to.
Finding his resolve, Wigg stood. He walked over to one corner of the room and tugged resolutely on a velvet pull cord. In a few moments the expected knock came on the massive, double doors. With a word from Wigg they opened, and a Minion warrior appeared. Upon entering the room, he clicked his heels together.
"I live to serve," he said.
Wigg looked back at Faegan, but knew he would win no reprieve from his old friend. Faegan glared back at him sternly and nodded. His mind finally made up, Wigg turned back to the obediently waiting warrior.
"Bring the Jin'Sai and my daughter here at once," he said simply.
The warrior clicked his heels again and promptly left in search of the prince.
Wigg walked sadly back to the table, sat down heavily next to Faegan, and waited in silence.
CHAPTER
Sixty-five
W hen the strong, familiar knock came on the door, Wigg stiffened. Looking over at Faegan, he took a deep breath, then glanced back toward the doors again.
"Enter," he said simply.
The prince and Celeste walked in. For some unknown reason, Tristan seemed especially eager to see them. Removing his weapons from his shoulder, he slung them over the back of one of the chairs and took a place next to Wigg's daughter at the table.
Taking a deep breath, Wigg looked over at them. "I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. "We need to speak with you. There is something I must-"
"And I need to speak to you," Tristan interrupted excitedly. "Had you not asked for me, I would have sought you out myself."
"What is it?" Wigg asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I have an idea," Tristan answered quickly. "And I'm afraid that whatever you wanted to say will have to wait for the moment. What I have to tell you is vitally important. But first, please tell me-have the two of you found any possible way to stop Wulfgar?"
Sitting back in his chair, Wigg raised his eyebrow. "No," he said. "And time grows short."
Reaching into a pocket of his trousers, Tristan took something out. He gently placed it on the table. "This may be our answer," he said softly. "I was reminded of it yesterday, during our meeting on the balcony."
Faegan looked at the item on the table, then back over at the prince. "Of course we recognize it," he said, as he stroked Nicodemus. "But I still do not understand what you have in mind."
"You told us yesterday that the orbs cannot be coaxed out over the sea. And also that if we could keep Wulfgar's fleet of demonslavers from reaching the coast, we would have a much better chance of stopping him from destroying the Orb of the Vigors, correct?"
"Yes, that's true," Wigg answered, his curiosity growing. "But what are you driving at?"
For more than the next half hour, Tristan explained to Wigg, Faegan, and Celeste exactly what he wanted to do, and how he would do it. As he spoke, the wizards could hear the optimism rising in his voice. When he was done, the two mystics sat back in silence as they considered his plan. Long moments ticked by as the prince awaited their opinions.
"I'll admit that it has its merits," Faegan finally answered. Tristan could see the wheels turning in the old wizard's head. "But the logistics and execution would be daunting, to say the least. The timing would have to be perfect, and your idea carries with it absolutely no guarantee of success. Still, it's the best plan I have seen so far." He smiled at the prince. "Frankly, I'm impressed."
"I agree," Wigg said. "But tell me, does anyone outside of this room know of your idea?"
"No."
"Good," the lead wizard said adamantly. "Keep it that way. And leave what you brought here with us. We will consider your plan, and let you know if it is viable."
"If that's what you feel you must do, then so be it," Tristan countered. "But you'd best hurry. The warning from the Minion scout ships could come at any time, whether you're ready or not."
Satisfied for the time being, Tristan crossed his arms over his leather vest. "Now then," he asked politely. "What was it you wished to tell us?"
As was his habit, Wigg placed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe. "There are two things, actually," he began. "And they both have to do with the Scroll of the Vigors."
Tristan and Celeste both looked over to where the scroll was hovering in the air. The azure glow of the craft flowed from it, and it was partially unrolled to reveal the elegant, flowing Old Eutracian words and symbols inscribed on it. Its golden center rod and end caps gleamed in the light.
"What about it?" Celeste asked.
"Do you remember Faegan and I telling you about something the watchwoman of the floating gardens mentioned to us? She called it the River of Thought."
Tristan's brow furrowed. "Yes, I do," he answered. "But frankly, I had forgotten. You said little of it."
"That's because at the time, there was very little to say," Faegan replied. "We wanted to be sure the calculations for it actually existed within the scroll. And we finally found them."
"And just what does this so-called River of Thought accomplish?" Tristan asked.