Shawna let go another exasperated sigh. Then she busily smoothed out her stark white apron. Her slate gray hair was tied in the back in its usual unforgiving bun, and she wore square, no-nonsense shoes, their laces tied with double knots so that they wouldn't come undone.
When Shawna's infamous ire was up, her attitude usually stayed that way for some time. By now nearly everyone in the palace could attest to that fact.
Normally, Shailiha and Celeste found Shawna's antics comic. But given recent events, they were unnerved to their very core, and neither of them found Shawna particularly amusing.
Ever since Tristan's absence on his quest to destroy the Gates of Dawn, Shailiha and Celeste had become very close, especially in their shared love for him. They both missed him terribly, and hoped against hope that he would return to them, just as he had done so many times before.
For Celeste, the pain ran deep. Not only was the love of her life missing, but her father, as well. Each of these men had only recently come into her life, and she couldn't face the thought of losing them both.
Unable to sleep, the princess and Wigg's daughter had been up all night, trying to console each other and keep fear at bay. When dawn broke, a Minion warrior brought them a message. Faegan was calling an emergency meeting of the Conclave in two hours-whether Tristan, Wigg, and Traax had returned or not. The two women could only guess at what Faegan wished to say. They doubted the news could be good.
Shailiha grasped the gold medallion hanging around her neck and held it tightly-as if doing so might somehow bring her closer to her brother, wherever he might be.
"Are you quite sure that neither of you will eat anything?" Shawna pressed, bringing the princess back to the present. Shailiha shook her head. Celeste followed suit.
With a sorrowful look, Shawna walked over and placed one of her small, gnarled hands over Shailiha's. The princess could feel the calluses on Shawna's palms, garnered from centuries of hard, honest work.
"They'll be back, just you wait and see," the gnome wife said softly. Then she thought for a moment. "Shall I take Morganna with me?" she asked. "The child will need to eat soon. And knowing how Master Faegan likes to go on and on, the meeting could be a long one." A hint of a smile crossed Shawna's face. Shailiha found herself unable to return it. But she looked over at her daughter and nodded.
"That might be for the best," she agreed.
Turning, Shawna went to the stroller and reached up to grasp its handle. It was nearly as tall as she. When she was gone, a sad silence descended.
The chamber was spacious, constructed of a beautiful light blue marble with dark blue veins running through it. Artwork decorated the walls and patterned rugs warmed the floor. The small crackling fire in the hearth gave off a comforting aroma. But the true centerpiece of the room was the massive meeting table sitting in the middle of the floor.
Constructed superbly by Minion craftsmen on Tristan's orders, the table was Eutracian mahogany, inlaid in the center with an image of the Paragon. Each of the ten luxurious, velvet-upholstered chairs surrounding it had the name of its owner carved into its high, curved back.
Shailiha ran one hand over the highly polished tabletop, reflections from the fireplace dancing between her fingers, but she was blind to its beauty. Then she felt Celeste's hand on her arm, and she looked up.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I am not with child," Celeste said shortly.
"I see," the princess said. "How long have you known?"
"Only since this morning. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I knew how upset you already were, and I didn't want to add to your burdens. I wanted Tristan to be the first to know, but I needed to talk to someone. Do you think he will forgive me for not telling him first?"
Shailiha did her best to give her a reassuring smile. "Of course he will," she answered. "Until you tell him, it shall remain just between us."
Celeste knew that Tristan would have mixed reaction to the news-as she herself had. Both of them knew that any child conceived now, before Tristan's blood was changed back to red, would be grotesquely deformed. But they both also yearned to bring a child into the world, to love and to care for. Perhaps one day, she thought. They could not lose hope.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at Shailiha, only to see that the princess' expression had darkened.
"But you must tell him as soon as you can," Shailiha said. "Then your father, and Faegan. I think you know why."
Celeste knew what the princess was really trying to tell her. The azure glow of the craft had appeared just after she and Tristan had first lain together. Since she wasn't with child, the glow must have meant something else-something only the wizards would be able to unravel. Worry stabbed her heart and she shuddered.
Tyranny was fuming. as she stomped down the spacious halls of the Redoubt following behind Ox, the heels of her knee boots echoed loudly against the marble floors.
Her encounter with the slaver frigate had so angered Tyranny that she had cowed even the stalwart Ox. That anger had lasted throughout her journey back to the Redoubt in the personal litter Tristan had given her. The muscles in her jaws clenching, the privateer continued to seethe.
The demonslaver frigate had somehow escaped all twelve of her ships. How? She'd had the enemy vessel dead to rights. Escape should have been impossible.
There could only be one answer to how the warship had eluded her grasp, yet her mind shied away from the awful conclusion. She needed to talk to Faegan, and she needed to do it now.
When she and Ox reached the double doors of the meeting room, the two Minion guards standing on either side snapped to attention. At a nod from Tyranny, Ox left her, and the guards swung open the massive portals.
Hoping for the best, Tyranny squared her shoulders and walked in. She was immediately disappointed. Tristan, Wigg, and Traax were not there.
The other six permanent members of the Conclave waited in their respective seats. Faegan was speaking. Upon seeing her come in, he politely stopped, looked at her, and nodded. When Tyranny glanced around the room, she saw sadness and concern on every face.
Tyranny went to embrace Shailiha, Celeste, and Abbey, and did her best to offer them support. Then she took her seat.
She was painfully aware of the empty chairs on either side of her. Normally, Tristan would sit to her right and Wigg to her left. Having no one on either side gave her a strange, isolated feeling, despite the presence of the other people in the room.
Tyranny trained her wide blue eyes on the wizard. Faegan looked tired and drawn. The bloodred Paragon hanging around his neck twinkled brightly in the light of the chandelier.
She saw that both the Tome of the Paragon and the Scroll of the Vigors had been brought here, presumably for safekeeping. The massive, white leather-bound Tome sat in one corner upon a black marble pedestal, its gilt-edged pages lying open. The scroll hovered beside it in the air, spelled there by Faegan.
The scroll was half a meter wide and about one meter long unrolled. A gold rod, with knobs on either end, ran through its center. A gold band engraved with Old Eutracian secured the tightly rolled document at its middle. Tyranny winced when she remembered how much of the precious document had been burned, that night on the roof of the palace. Large sections of the fine vellum were charred and flaking. Even so, it remained magnificent. Finally she looked back at Faegan.
"There is still no word of Tristan, Wigg, or Traax?" she asked.
"No," Faegan answered. "But they are three highly resourceful individuals-especially when they are together. We must not give up hope."