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Wulfgar took another step closer.

"Do not fail me, Merriwhether," he added with menace. "It was I who plucked you and your brothers from the icy depths of the Sea of Whispers, and I can just as easily oversee your return."

Merriwhether bowed his dark head. "Have faith, my lord," he answered. "Everything shall be as you order."

"Good," Wulfgar said. "Go now, and may luck be with you."

Merriwhether walked to the first of the great vessels and boarded, barking out orders. As Wulfgar watched, six of the massive ships slowly righted themselves. Their black sails snapped open and their hulls rose into the air, heading south over dry land, toward Tammerland.

Soon they were gone from sight, leaving the Enseterat with one ship, one captain, and a host of demonslavers. The remaining captain was Cathmore. As his dark heart beat within the tattered folds of his uniform, he smiled at the honor of escorting his savage messiah to the pass in the Tolenkas.

"Make way," Wulfgar ordered. "We leave at once."

As the ship lifted into the air, Wulfgar and Cathmore levitated themselves onto her black decks. Her sails snapped open and she turned toward her mission and her destiny.

CHAPTER LXXV

Why does my shoulder hurt so much? he wondered. can't they just leave me alone? I wish they would stop talking and let me sleep. Don't they know that I'm the Jin'Sai?

With a groan, Tristan opened his eyes. At first everything was out of focus. Soon things became clearer. Celeste's lined face looked down at him, and her gray hair brushed against his cheek.

Wigg and Ox's faces appeared behind her. Celeste and Ox smiled broadly. Wigg wore the typically condescending scowl that seemed always reserved for castigating him.

"So you have finally decided to return to us," the First Wizard said. "By the time we reached you, you had lost a great deal of blood. How do you feel?"

Tristan tried to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder forced him back down. He was in his tent, lying on several Minion blankets.

Wigg pressed a wooden cup against the prince's lips. "Drink," he said.

"What is it?" Tristan asked thickly.

"If you must know, it is ground root of canckleberry, sliced blossom of synthia, and boiled water. It will help you to recover your strength. It will also aid the spell of accelerated healing that I granted over your wound. Out here in the wilderness, it was the best I could come up with."

Tristan took a gulp of Wigg's potion; it tasted awful. He winced.

"Your cure is worse than my injury," he said.

Smiling, Celeste bent to kiss him. "We were so worried about you," she said. "For a time, I thought I was going to lose you forever."

Tristan smiled back and gingerly raised himself up onto his elbows.

Suddenly it all came flooding back. Satine, the fight in the meadow, his wound, her death…He twisted to look down at his left shoulder. The arrow shaft had been removed. Bandages had been wound around the joint, and spots of azure blood dotted the fabric. The front of his black leather vest was streaked with dried azure blood. Pain momentarily overwhelmed him, and he settled back down upon his makeshift bed.

"It was Satine," he said.

"We know," Wigg answered. "Her body matched the description given to us by Uther. We buried her in the meadow. I found some interesting items hidden in the lining of her cloak. Faegan was right about her methods of killing. I found something even more interesting in one of her boots," he added wryly.

"And what was that?" Tristan asked.

"A list," Wigg answered. "I haven't made complete sense of it yet, but I think it might be a list of safe houses. I recognize many of the names matching the addresses-all onetime Consuls of the Redoubt. It appears torn at the bottom, as though she wanted part of the list removed for some reason. I suppose we'll never know."

"She hesitated," Tristan said, more to himself than to the others. Then he looked up. "She had me dead to rights, and then she hesitated. Why would she do that?"

Wigg shook his head. "Perhaps it was a sudden lapse in resolve. Who knows? In the end, all that matters is that you survived and she did not."

"How did you find me?"

"I wake up by fire to see you gone," Ox said. "Other warriors say they see you go off to horses. I go to find you. Just as I first see you, you kill Satine. I call out for wizard and other warriors."

"What time of day is it?" Tristan asked.

"Midafternoon," Wigg answered. "Do you feel well enough to travel in a litter? We're losing valuable time."

Tristan raised himself up again. "I'll ride."

"Oh, no," Wigg answered adamantly. "I can't take the chance of your wound opening up again. Besides, we're down to Shadow and one other horse." He gave Tristan a critical look. "You managed to get my mare killed, remember?"

Tristan nodded. "Very well," he answered. "And I'm sorry about your horse."

"If Tristan travels by litter, then so do I," Celeste announced.

"Very well," Wigg said. "Let's go."

Wigg looked over at Ox. "Tell the warriors to strike the camp," he said.

As Ox went to follow his orders, Wigg and Celeste helped the prince to his feet. Three hours later, Tristan looked down from his minion litter. They were traveling through the flat grasslands of Farplain, as they had been for the last two days. Wigg's spells had helped his shoulder greatly, but it still throbbed from time to time. As a precaution he periodically flexed his muscles to keep them from stiffening. The exercise hurt like the blazes, but he knew that later he would be glad he had done it. His weapons were back in place over his right shoulder. At least the arm I rely on the most was spared, he thought.

Ox flew alongside the litter. He looked over from time to time, as if he were expecting the prince to do something foolish-like dive out to the plain below, perhaps. One corner of Tristan's mouth curled into a smile. After the scare he had given them all last evening in the meadow, he really couldn't blame Ox for being so protective.

Celeste lay asleep on the floor. Her hair was completely gray now, and her skin was lined with wrinkles. Her face had an unhealthy pallor, and it was growing difficult for her to move. Even so, he loved her as much as ever.

Down on the ground and slightly ahead of the flying Minion cohort, Wigg led the way on Shadow.

Tristan cursed softly. He hated traveling so slowly-especially when every moment was so important to Celeste. He knew that Wigg felt the same way, but what else could they do? Every time Wigg tried to charge ahead, he lost the spell-only to have it return when he slowed. It was an agonizingly frustrating way to travel.

His thoughts again found their way back to Satine. She had perhaps been the best adversary he had ever faced, and he knew that he was lucky to be alive. On their way from the camp, he had seen the simple stone marker that Wigg had erected at her fresh grave. He had used the craft to inscribe the single word "Satine" into its face, along with the date of her death. It was all that they really knew about her. Who was she, and who trained her so well? the prince wondered. He would probably never know.

Below, Wigg brought Shadow to an abrupt stop. For several moments the wizard did not move. Then he looked up and waved the warriors down.

Tristan's heart fell. The sun was setting, and the wizard had chosen this spot to camp for the night. This was the only reason they could be stopping-because there was nothing but grasslands for as far as the eye could see.

He looked down at Celeste as they descended, and closed his eyes against the pain he felt for her.

The Minions and their litters landed. Celeste stirred and sat up. Running one hand back through her hair, she blinked. Tristan helped her from the litter, and they walked over to Wigg. Her gait was even slower now, her limp more noticeable.