"Of course," Satine answered. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. She was eager to leave. She wanted to be safely through the sandstone maze by nightfall.
"In that case our business is concluded," Reznik said. He gestured to a pot that sat upon another wood-burning stove. "Unless you would like to join me in a bowl of bone soup?" he offered. "I made it fresh this morning. Some company would be welcome."
Satine felt her stomach turn over. She couldn't imagine eating anything in this place, much less wanting to know what kind of creature the bones had come from.
"Uh, er, no-no, thank you," she answered stiffly. "I need to be going."
"Suit yourself," the herbmaster said. Sitting down, he took up a broad soup ladle. He gave her another look.
"Goodbye, Satine," he said. "Until next time."
"Goodbye," she answered.
Walking out the door, she climbed upon her gelding and wheeled him around to begin her journey back. She took a final look at the brick cottage that held so many awful secrets.
And good riddance, she thought.
Prodding her horse forward, the Gray Fox began her ride back through the winding streets of Valrenkium.
CHAPTER XVIII
Saddened and angered by what he saw, Tristan walked slowly among the wounded still filling the palace courtyard. The Orb of the Vigors had done this, and it infuriated him to be waiting here rather than taking some kind of action to stop it.
The sun had just started to set over the western wall of the palace. The songbirds had quieted, and the turquoise of the sky had slowly faded into the deeper indigo of evening. The stars and moons would be out soon, and with them would come the comforting chirps of the night creatures.
All about him, torches were lit, their soft glow throwing shadows across the walls and grounds. Minion healers continued to work hard tending the wounded. He had walked by Duvessa only moments ago, and they had nodded to each other. Her white cutter's smock had been covered with blood.
By now, some of the wounded had left their care. Others whose injuries made it impossible for them to travel had stayed behind. To the prince it seemed that the palace still overflowed with them. Tents had been erected for those well enough to sleep outdoors in the courtyard. They gave the entire place the chilling look of a military field hospital. In many ways, he supposed that it was.
He had tried to converse with some of the patients. A few spoke to him, but most only looked up at him in anger and distrust-as though he had somehow trapped them here on purpose. Eventually he gave up and walked on, his head lowered.
He desperately wanted to hear from Geldon, but no word had come. Tristan worried about both the dwarf and Ox. Each had saved his life more than once, and he owed them more than he could ever repay. He couldn't stop wondering where the orb had traveled after its deadly assault on Brook Hollow. Had more of his people been killed?
A sudden breeze came up, bringing with it the familiar scent of myrrh.
Smiling, he turned to see Celeste approach. She wore a light blue gown with matching slippers. A strand of freshwater pearls lay elegantly around her neck. The glow from the torches created highlights in her long, red hair. But as she came nearer, Tristan's smile dissolved. It was clear that something was wrong.
Finally reaching him, she took him in her arms and held him close. When they parted, he saw that her eyes were shining with tears. She wiped them away with one hand.
Tristan ran one of his palms across her cheek. "What is it? Has something happened?"
Shaking her hair back over one shoulder, Celeste composed herself. "Shailiha told me I might find you here," she said softly. "I need to speak to you. Is there someplace we might go to be alone?"
"Of course."
He led her around one side of the palace, through a manicured gap in a tall witherblossom hedge, and then on into another yard. They sat together on one of the marble benches that lay along the edge of the grass.
This had once been his mother's private gardens. None of the wounded were here. The gardens had long been in disrepair. Still, just being here and away from the depressing courtyard almost made Tristan forget his troubles.
When he looked back into Celeste's eyes, her anxiousness crowded in on him again. "What is it?" he asked.
Taking both of his hands into hers, she looked him in the eyes.
"I am not with child," she said.
Looking down for a moment, Tristan took a deep breath. "I see." Reaching up, he placed one palm upon her cheek. "How long have you known?"
"Three days," she answered. "I wanted to tell you sooner. But you and Father had already gone searching for the orb." She looked away.
"I'm sorry, my love," she said so softly he could barely hear her. "In truth, I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed-I suppose it is a little of both. But at least for now, it is not to be. And perhaps, worst of all, we still do not know if we can ever be intimate with each other again." She paused.
"I miss you in that way," she whispered then. "More than you could ever know."
Reaching out, he lifted her face back to his. "And I you," he said. "Have you told your father?"
Celeste shook her head. "Only Shailiha," she answered. "I needed someone to talk to while you were away. We have become close, she and I."
The moonlight showed a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Shailiha tells me that you used to be quite a handful when you were growing up," she said. "But now between your twin sister and me, you don't stand a chance of misbehaving."
Tristan smiled back. "How true."
He took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. As he held her, he could feel her body rise up to meet his and hear her breathing quicken.
Then, summoning his will, he took her by the shoulders and gently moved her away. As he did, her head arched back, exposing her lovely throat to the moonlight. The anger he felt about his azure blood began to boil over again, and with a long sigh, he forced it back down. Eutracia needed both his and Celeste's gifts right now. Protecting his land and the craft had to take precedence over personal needs.
Bending over, he gave Celeste one last kiss-a brief one, almost chaste. Then, his arm around her waist, he walked her from the private gardens and on toward the twinkling lights of the palace.
CHAPTER XIX
"It is time to bring them, Wulfgar, and to board them onto your Black Ships. Then only the coming of the ships' captains shall be required to launch your invasion. Bring the beasts now, and witness the majesty of their power. For they will destroy both the palace and the Redoubt of the Directorate, that vile seat of the Vigors. Load them onto the Black Ships, our son of the lower, lesser world. We will be watching."
Sleeping soundly, Wulfgar at first heard the words as if in a dream. Startled awake by the clear choir-voiced message, the Enseterat blinked open his good eye.
He immediately understood. Yesterday he had employed yet another of the Forestallments granted him by the Scroll of the Vagaries. It allowed him to conjure the great beasts into the world. As their gigantic shapes had taken form, even he had been awed by their splendor.
He rolled over in bed and looked into the face of his sleeping queen. Her dark ringlets were spread out across her pillow, and her face was the very picture of contentment. Beneath the elaborate quilt, he could see the swollen, impending promise of their child.
Serena, Wulfgar found himself thinking. How aptly she was named, and how much he loved her. He would soon be forced to leave her side. But this time he would return in triumph.
Wulfgar slid from the bed, put on a silk robe, and walked to the balcony. The day had broken clear and fresh, and the seabirds sang to one another as they coasted effortlessly over the waves below. Stretching the sleepy muscles in his back, he inhaled the bracing air.
He would indeed load the amazing beasts today, just as his fathers and mothers of above had ordered him to. Then he would perform the only other task remaining, and set out to make both Eutracia and the craft of magic his own.