The wizard dismounted, handing Shadow's reins to a waiting warrior. He looked perplexed.
"What is it?" Tristan asked.
At first Wigg did not answer. He simply stared out over the vast grasslands as if searching for something.
"I've lost it," he said softly.
"Lost what?" Celeste asked.
"The River of Thought," Wigg answered. "Its pull upon me has vanished."
"But how can that be?" Tristan protested. "You weren't traveling fast enough to lose the spell."
Wigg sighed. "There can be only two explanations," he said. "The first is that the spell has been broken somehow-which would mean that we may never find the place we are searching for."
"And the other answer?" Tristan asked.
"The other possibility is that we have arrived, and the pull from the River of Thought is no longer required."
Tristan looked around. All he could see was waving grass.
"But how could this be the place?" he asked. "There's nothing here."
Wigg was about to answer when they all heard a rumbling. Almost simultaneously, the ground began to shake. Shadow and the other horse reared up and whinnied in fear. As they looked around, the warriors of the Minion cohort automatically drew their blades.
The rumbling sound grew louder and the earth shook more violently, making it difficult to remain standing. Tristan was about to order everyone into the air when he saw a pinprick of azure light form in the grass. He pointed it out to Wigg and Celeste. As the light grew in size and intensity, everyone stepped back.
Something emerged from the ground. At first they could see only azure light, but then another form started to take shape. It was like an arrow, with four sides extending down from its pinnacle. On and on it came, thundering up from the soil and tearing fresh sod loose as it grew. Its azure light was nearly blinding. Then it came to a halt. The rumbling sound died away, and the ground stilled once more.
Tristan gazed at it in amazement. A shimmering azure pyramid stood before him, its smooth shiny sides reflecting the dwindling daylight.
"I think it's safe to say that we have arrived," Wigg said softly.
Tristan was about to answer when a brilliant white door appeared in the pyramid's wall. The door slowly moved to one side, and a soft blue light spilled out over the threshold and onto the grass. Tristan looked over at Ox.
"Make camp here," he ordered. "Wigg, Celeste, and I are going inside. There is no telling how long we might be gone-or whether we will return. Under no circumstances are you or any of your warriors to follow us inside. You will simply have to wait for our return. Do you understand?"
Ox's face fell, but he knew his duty. "I live to serve," came the standard reply. "Luck with you."
Tristan looked over at Wigg and Celeste and they nodded back. He took each of them by the hand, and together they walked into the magnificent structure. After several steps, by silent, mutual agreement the three of them stopped, breath held, eyes wide with wonder. The inside of the structure was far larger than its outside had led them to believe. Stunned, Tristan looked over at Wigg.
"How can this be?" he asked.
"Nothing is impossible within the purview of the craft," Wigg answered. "But I must admit that this comes close."
They stood in the middle of a huge foyer that branched off into several seemingly endless halls. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all constructed of what looked like azure glass. Soft light of the same color illuminated the place, radiating from everywhere, yet originating from nowhere. The only other color was a bloodred image of the Paragon, inlaid in the center of the floor. Silence reigned.
"What do we do now?" Celeste asked at last. Her voice, brittle and dry, echoed down the halls. Tristan took her withered hand.
"There can be only one answer," Wigg said. "We pick a hallway and begin walking. It seems to me that-"
He stopped in midsentence.
"What is it?" Tristan asked.
Eyes glued dead ahead, Wigg pointed. "Look," he said.
Another pinprick of azure light was forming in the air. As it grew in intensity it spun, and a form started to take shape in its midst. The form grew longer and wider until it was clearly identifiable as a boy. He glowed softly with the color of the craft. Tristan guessed him to be no more than nine or ten Seasons of New Life.
His hair was dark, his eyes were large and expressive. Completely naked, he stood there before them without shame.
Staring, Tristan realized that he could actually see through the boy, as if the boy was made of azure fog. It was like looking at a ghost. Perhaps that is exactly what he is, the prince thought. Suddenly the apparition knelt.
Not knowing what to do, Tristan looked over at Wigg and then back at the boy. "You may rise," he said awkwardly.
"So it is true after all," the boy said. "The Jin'Sai really is of this world. That must mean that the Jin'Saiou-she who was prophesied to be your twin sister-must now also have mortal form. Is that not true?"
"Yes," Tristan answered simply. "But how could you know?"
The boy pointed to Tristan's wound. "The dried azure blood on your vest. It is said that the true Jin'Sai or the Jin'Saiou might possess such blood." He paused. "So you have come to me at last."
He looked at Wigg. "It is also said that the watchwoman of the Chambers of Penitence recently oversaw the requisite trials of an ancient wizard who wore the Paragon. And that as a result of his trials, she provided his friend with herbs and oils that would help them in their struggle against the Vagaries. It was the reenactment of your greatest regrets that she oversaw, was it not?" he asked.
Stunned, for a moment Wigg couldn't find his voice. His time in the Chamber of Penitence was not long past, and it had taken all his strength to survive his experience there. Finally he spoke.
"That is correct," he answered. "But how did you know?"
"First of all, you wear the stone," the boy answered. "It was the nearness of the stone that alerted me to your presence and activated the structure in which you now stand. And, secondly, the watchwoman and I serve the same masters. We have done so for aeons. They see all."
"The Ones Who Came Before," Wigg said.
"Yes."
"But you are so young," Tristan said. "If what you say is true, then how is that possible?"
"I am aeons old, but for your benefit I have taken a form that your minds could understand and that you would find pleasing," the boy said. "But if this form doesn't suit you, I can take on another appearance.
"It is my task to watch over this place, this wonder left behind by the Ones. It is also my duty to serve those who come here bearing the stone and wishing to serve only the Vigors.
"There is far more history about our land and the craft than you know. Many others who have worn the stone have visited here, long before you. I helped them as well. Even so, our struggle against the Vagaries seems to know no end."
"Are you the one known as the Scroll Master?" Tristan asked.
The boy smiled. "Yes, among other things."
"And what is this place?" Wigg asked. "Is this the Well of Forestallments?"
"Yes," the boy answered. "But as is true with so many other wonders of this world, it too has another name, and another purpose."
"And what is that?" Celeste asked. Her voice was faint, and she clung weakly to Tristan's arm. The prince held her close.
"It is also known as the Abyss of Lost Souls."
"I don't understand," Wigg said.
"The craft is a vast universe, of which you have charted but a little," the boy said. "But you will understand far more by the time you leave here."
The boy gave Celeste a puzzled look. Gliding closer, he examined her, then looked at Wigg again.
"She is of your seed," he said. "And she is dying. What is left of her blood signature is vanishing as we speak."
"That is true," Wigg answered anxiously. "But how could you-"