Abbey picked up the parchment. The blood signature was "complete," meaning that it showed evidence of both the mother and the father. Therefore, whoever had possessed this signature was of fully endowed blood. She placed the parchment back on the table.
"I mean no disrespect, but what you are saying is quite impossible," she argued. "Blood simply cannot be changed from unendowed to endowed."
"It wasn't," Faegan answered. "But that does not mean it cannot carry the signature of another for a time, if they are mixed somehow. Take a look at this list of foreign matter I found in Geldon's blood." He unrolled another parchment and handed it to her.
"Please read it aloud," he asked.
Abbey looked down the page. "This list shows human brain matter, human yellow bone marrow, human red bone marrow, derma-gnasher venom, root of gingercrinkle, and oil of encumbrance. There are also a few other trace elements mentioned here." With a puzzled expression, she looked back up at Faegan.
"How on earth did he manage to get all of these ingredients into his bloodstream?" she asked. "I have never come across such an unusual concoction in all my life."
"He didn't put them there," Faegan answered. "Someone else did. Geldon was poisoned. I don't have quite all of the pieces to the puzzle yet, but I'm close."
"But what makes you think he was poisoned?" Duvessa countered.
"After all, they were a long way from home. Isn't it possible that through some quirk of fate he ingested these things naturally?"
Adrian shook her head. "Gingercrinkle, perhaps," she said. "And even the oil of encumbrance. But human brain? Bone marrow? Impossible." The First Sister of the acolytes looked at Faegan.
"It was the derma-gnasher attack, wasn't it?" she asked. "It had to be. He consumed what the others did. These things couldn't have been in the food or drink, or they would all be dead. And the derma-gnasher puncture was the only insult to his body-other than the damaged eye, of course."
Faegan nodded. "Well done," he said. "When I did the necropsy, you may remember that I took a crosssection of tissue from the area surrounding the bite mark. The ingredients listed on the parchment were found in far higher concentration there than anywhere else in his body. The bite was therefore the poison's point of entry."
"So what does all this mean?" Abbey asked. "That we have a swarm of infected derma-gnashers infesting Eutracia? With everything else that is going on, I cannot believe that Geldon's death was so random an act."
"Nor do I," Faegan agreed. "This is what I think happened. I believe this potion was concocted by someone of the craft. The blood signature that appeared in Geldon's blood was obviously not his, as his blood was not endowed. Given the bite on his neck, the derma-gnasher venom was to be expected. I still don't know what the actual delivery system was. It may have been an enchanted derma-gnasher, trained to do its master's bidding. Or it could have been something else entirely-like a blow dart, for instance, disguised with the venom to throw us off. But coming that close to a Minion camp unseen would take skills of the highest order." The ancient wizard paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts.
"The entire mixture was enchanted," he went on, thinking out loud.
"And if the brain and bone marrow came from a person who had committed suicide, then a special enchantment might well revive a desire to take one's own life. Transferred to a living host, the poison then becomes active. The subject goes mad, and he or she commits suicide involuntarily."
"But why include the oil of encumbrance?" Abbey asked. "That would only seem to weaken the potion, rather than strengthen it."
Placing one hand under his chin, Faegan thought for a moment. "True," he said. "But oil of encumbrance's true nature is to delay the effect of other ingredients. For example, if you wish to make a slow-acting medicine, oil of encumbrance would be the perfect additive."
"But why would the assassin wish to slow the process?" Duvessa asked.
"For one reason only," Faegan answered. "To allow him time to get away. Just imagine how perfect it all is! First, the victim is surreptitiously poisoned. The poison goes to work slowly. Several hours later the victim is seen raving like a lunatic and commits suicide before a group of witnesses. Foul play is never suspected. The entire event is chalked up to madness, and by then the assassin is long gone. The only other mark on the body is the derma-gnasher attack, and everyone else near him also has those." More amazed than before, Faegan sat back in his chair.
"It's as monstrous as it is brilliant," he breathed. "And it means that there is an assassin of the highest order lurking about Eutracia. One who is in league with someone of the craft. Or these two vast talents may reside within a single person. Either way, we are now forced to assume that the members of the Conclave have been marked for death."
"But how would he or she possibly know who the members are?" Adrian asked. "All of our meetings have taken place here in the Redoubt. And the Conclave was formed only several months ago."
Faegan looked back at her with knowing eyes. "Tristan's meeting with the citizens in the Hall of Supplication," he said. "If you remember, he not only introduced each of us, but he also went so far as to explain our various roles. I would not be surprised to learn that Geldon's killer had been sitting there the entire time, sizing us up."
He let go a deep breath, then looked back over at Geldon's corpse again.
"Our enemies have planned exceedingly well," he said. "But who is this assassin, and who of the craft is he in league with? This formula was mixed by an expert, I assure you."
Suddenly Abbey stared at the wizard as though she had just seen a ghost.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"Do you suppose…," she said softly.
"Suppose what?"
As if not knowing how to begin, Abbey took a deep breath. "Fifty years ago-long before Wigg brought me back to Tammerland-a badly wounded man stumbled onto my cottage. He had been savagely tortured, and he was delirious. Several of his fingers had been cut off. I took him in. But by then a massive infection had set in, and there was little I could do for him. Still, he told me a few things before he died."
Faegan leaned closer. "What did he say?"
"He told me that he was a Valrenkian," she said.
Faegan sat back in his chair. "Did you believe him?" he asked.
"At the time I thought it was his delirium talking," she answered. "But as the years wore on, I came to believe it. It was a deathbed confession. Why would he lie?"
"Why indeed," Faegan mused. Then his expression changed and he looked sternly at her. "Why didn't you report this to the Directorate?"
Abbey pursed her lips. "You don't know what things were like then," she said defensively. "You were still in Shadowood. The partials had been banished for nearly three hundred years. Worse yet, before I left, Wigg granted me the time enchantments. That was strictly against Directorate policy. Had I suddenly returned, they were sure to find out. He would have lost his seat on the Directorate, or worse. Despite what he had done to me I still loved him. So I stayed away."
Faegan gave a little smile of understanding. "Did this man say anything else?"
"He wanted to repent," she said. "When he wished to leave that life, they refused. They told him that once you were accepted into their midst, you were a Valrenkian until death. They tortured him, but somehow he managed to escape. But he did also say that he was sorry for the things he had done. And then he whispered the most telling thing of all."
"And that was?"
"That they were a secret society of partial adepts. The last thing he said to me was that they were of the Vagaries, and that they used human and animal body parts in their work. They survive by selling their dark wares throughout Eutracia. Sometimes they kidnap citizens, and other times they rob graves for their raw materials."