The Scroll Master raised one arm. "Behold," he said.
The glow of the craft appeared in the center of the circle. It slowly grew brighter and denser, then abruptly vanished, to reveal a shimmering, pure white marble altar.
Tristan shuddered. It was very much like the altar upon which Succiu had raped him and imbued his blood with Forestallments. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to push away the awful memories.
"What is it?" he asked. "Why is it here?"
"I told you that the Scrolls of the Ancients hold the spells for nearly every Forestallment in creation," the boy said.
"Yes."
The boy ran one hand lovingly over its polished surface, then looked back at Tristan.
"This structure contains the rest of them," he said, "those that are not contained in the Scroll of the Vigors. They are the most powerful of all Forestallments. Only the descendants of Queen Morganna might have blood strong enough to accept them. Unfortunately, Wulfgar carries two of them already, gleaned from the Scroll of the Vagaries."
"One of them must be the ability to summon the orbs and to move them about at will," Tristan mused. "But what is the other?"
"The second Forestallment allows him to commune with the Heretics," the boy answered. "This has been of great advantage to him as he has pursued his most recent plans."
"These potent spells of the Vigors were placed here in safekeeping by the Ones, in hope that their Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious would find me and make use of them. They considered these spells too valuable and powerful to be loosed upon the world, but the Heretics did not. The Heretics believe that chaos, not compassion, is the overriding principle of the craft. They placed all of their spells into the Scroll of the Vagaries, regardless of how powerful or destructive they might be. That scroll remains in Wulfgar's possession. Once identified, any number of Forestallment calculations may be imbued in his blood by his consuls. If you are successful in stopping the Enseterat, your next duty must be to recover the other scroll for the good of mankind. Our world will depend upon it."
"But Wigg and Faegan can also summon the orbs," Tristan countered. "And neither of them has visited this place before today. How can that be?"
"Your wizards unraveled the necessary calculations themselves," the boy said. "Despite their other errors, this was truly a great accomplishment. The wizard Faegan is particularly adept at such things, especially with his gift of Consummate Recollection. But they still have not deciphered the entire spell. They can call the orbs, but their lesser blood cannot move them at will. That was clear when you and Wigg nearly died in that litter as the Orb of the Vigors destroyed Brook Hollow, remember?"
Tristan nodded. Many things that had long puzzled him were beginning to make sense.
"You're going to do more than simply heal my blood, aren't you?" Tristan asked. He looked over at the altar once more. "You're going to rid me of my present Forestallments-the ones Succiu forced on me. Then you will replace them with others gleaned from within the altar." He looked back at the Scroll Master.
"I'm right, aren't I? And if my present Forestallments do not successfully transfer to these shelves, then my soul shall forever reside in the Abyss."
"Yes," the boy answered. "The Ones have said that it should be so. Still, unlike the Heretics, they also recognize and respect your free will. You have the right to refuse. Without you, your wizards and Minions stand no chance of defeating Wulfgar's forces. And Celeste's blood signature is now all but gone. When it finally vanishes, so shall her time enchantments. You know what that means. But even if successful, the process will invariably take a toll upon your body and your mind-and you may carry these burdens forever.
"And remember that of all the Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious who have walked the earth, only you possess azure blood. What I shall attempt in your name has never been done before. The chances of failure are very high."
He looked at Tristan. "It is time to decide, Jin'Sai."
"There is no decision to be made," Tristan said harshly. "This is one of the reasons I was placed upon the earth. We have to go forward. Our world requires it, no matter what happens to me." Pausing for a moment, he took a deep breath. "Do what you must," he said.
"Very well."
The boy pointed at the altar. A thin beam of light shot from his hand to strike its top. The boy moved his hand slowly. As he did, the beam of light cut a long, narrow slit in the marble. The light slowly vanished, and the boy lowered his hand.
Tristan heard a scratching noise. What looked like a sheet of transparent azure glass rose from the slit. Hundreds of Old Eutracian words and symbols were finely etched into its surface. It was immensely beautiful as it twinkled in the light.
"This glass tapestry holds the Forestallments meant only for the Jin'Sai and Jin'Saiou," the boy said. "I am not at liberty to tell you which of them will be granted to you until your blood has been healed. But what I can tell you is that one of them is the formula required to change your blood back to red, so that you may finally be trained in the ways of the craft, wear the Paragon, and read the Tome." Looking back over at the altar, the boy paused for a moment.
"The other Forestallments that I grant you shall last for only two days," he said. "Then they will disappear. It has been this way for every Jin'Sai and Jin'Saiou I have aided. Your nation is in crisis, and you must make the best possible use of them quickly, before they are no more."
Tristan walked over to the magnificent sheet of glass and reached out to touch it. It felt smooth and cold, like ice. He turned back to the boy.
"Why would the Ones wish their Forestallments to perish so soon?" he asked.
"Because of the quality of Jin'Sai and Jin'Saiou blood," the boy answered. "The Ones professed that granting a permanent Forestallment to one of you who has not yet been trained would be too dangerous. Should the lean of your blood signature be turned to the Vagaries, for example, the results would be disastrous."
Tristan closed his eyes for a moment. "As is the case with Wulfgar," he said.
"Yes," the boy said. "Now you are beginning to understand. But there is more-much more-regarding your destiny that we do not have the leisure to discuss now. It is time."
Tristan nodded. "Proceed, then," he said softly.
"Very well."
The Scroll Master pointed to the prince. Tristan felt a wizard's warp envelope him. He still stood but he could not move. Wondering what would happen next, he broke out into a cold sweat.
The boy pointed to the sheet of azure glass. The etchings representing the first of the four spells lifted silently from the glass to hover near the prince's head. His breath caught as they sparkled above him.
Tristan felt the soft, cool touch of the boy's palm on his forehead. Then waves of unrelenting pain coursed through him, and he screamed.
CHAPTER LXXXII
Faegan on thsat in his chair e palace roof, his heart saddened beyond measure. Jessamay, Shailiha, Abbey, and the remaining acolytes stood by his side. Duvessa, Dax, and a large host of Minion warriors were there as well. Safe in her nursery, Shailiha's daughter, Morganna, was being tended by the ever-protective Shawna the Short.
Faegan had called the group together because he would need all of their services if his plan were to have any hope of success. But the early optimism he had felt as a result of his research in the Redoubt was dampened by what he saw from the rooftop.
Tammerland was burning
It was well past midnight. The southwestern side of the city was engulfed in flames. The once-beautiful capital had become a raging inferno. Faegan could smell the stink of the polluted river and the smoke that was rapidly filling the sky. The terrible spectacle was almost more than he could bear.
The unexpected speed of the fire would make his group's task much more difficult-perhaps even impossible. If he underestimated the pace of the fire's progress, then all of their work would be for naught-as it would be anyway if Tristan and Wigg did not return soon.