"No, no. You must listen to me," she protested. "You must examine my blood signature again."
Wigg took one of her hands into his. "There is no need," he said. "Don't you remember? I already examined it, and I am convinced. What's the matter?" he chided. "After all of this time, have you somehow managed to forget who you are? I certainly haven't."
Jessamay began shaking her head violently. She tried to rise up from the bed. "You don't understand!" she insisted. "You must reexamine my signature now, this instant! And this time use Failee's signature scope! I must know if it's true! The very future of the craft depends upon it!"
Wigg pushed her back down onto the bed. "Very well," he said, "if that's what it takes to make you lie still. But after that, you must get some rest."
Narrowing his eyes, Wigg caused another incision to appear in Jessamay's wrist. A single drop of blood rose from it, and then the wound closed. The blood drop came to hover in the air before the wizard, where it twisted itself into the same blood signature they had all seen before. Wigg looked up at the prince.
"Please see if there is any parchment in that desk," he asked.
Tristan walked over and he looked through the newly made drawers. He found a small piece of parchment and placed it on the desk.
Staring at the hovering blood, Wigg commanded it to glide over to the desk. It gently landed upon the parchment. Leaving Jessamay's side, the wizard walked to the desk and sat down.
Confidently, Wigg casually positioned the tripod directly over the blood signature, then looked down through the lens secured at the top.
He took a quick breath. He looked in shock at Jessamay. Upon seeing his reaction, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry even harder.
Wigg's face was blanched and his jaw was working. But in his completely astonished state, no words came. Finally he found his voice.
"But this is impossible…," he said, so softly that Tristan and Celeste could barely hear him. "This violates every established precept…"
With shaking hands, Wigg readjusted the scope. He looked again. His expert eye remained glued to the lens for a long time. As Jessamay watched in fear, her sobbing continued unabated.
CHAPTER XXXVII
As Serena sat among her husband's new servants, she felt a shudder go through her. Were they dead, alive, or something else, she wondered. Even given her immense skills of the craft, she could not tell.
But at least she could understand Wulfgar's vision of the future-the vision that had been imparted to him by the Guild of the Heretics, and that he had at last explained to her.
The meeting room was large and well appointed. Ten sat at the table: herself, Wulfgar, Einar, and the Council of Seven, as her husband called his new servants. A pair of armed demonslavers stood guard on the other side of the closed double doors. Two candelabras on the table threw their flickering light over a sumptuous spread of food and wine. In the far wall, a fire danced merrily in the hearth. Its smoke smelled familiar and comforting.
Taking up her wine glass, Serena refocused her attention on Wulfgar's words.
"…each of you will captain a Black Ship," he was saying. "You will command not only the Earthshakers assigned to your vessel, but also several full legions of demonslavers. Tomorrow you shall practice the sea maneuvers that you once carried out centuries ago, albeit for a very different cause. I wish to be sure that the legends of your prowess are still true." As he spoke, the ravaged half of his face contorted grotesquely.
"When we finally launch the war against Eutracia, several of you shall march your forces north to ensure the continued self-destruction of the Orb of the Vigors," he went on. "That is our chief concern. The rest of you shall aid me in the attack upon the royal palace. We shall destroy the Conclave of the Vigors, my half brother's Minions of Day and Night, and the Redoubt of the Directorate. When our victories are secure we will then turn our attention east, toward Parthalon. Compared to Eutracia, Parthalon will collapse like a house of cards."
"A question, my lord," one of the seven captains said.
It was the first time Serena had heard any of them speak, and it surprised her. Like the others, his glowing eyes and white teeth shone in his black skull.
"And that is?" Wulfgar asked.
"Are we to assume that any opposing force nearing the orb-especially that which might be commanded by the wizards or the Jin'Sai-is to be obliterated?" the captain asked.
Wulfgar smiled. "Indeed."
Then the Lord of the Vagaries leaned over, and placed both his hands upon the table. His single eye seemed to take everyone in at once. Even Serena found it unnerving.
"But hear me well," he added quietly. "The Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou are not to be killed. I have my own plans for my dear half brother and sister. Any of you who disobey this order will again find himself imprisoned in the sea-this time for all eternity."
The captain bowed his head slightly. "We understand, my lord," he answered. "All shall be as you order."
Serena watched as one of the Council lifted a goblet of wine in one skeletal hand and drank greedily. Some of the wine dribbled sloppily from his lipless mouth, running down his chin and onto his lap.
Unable to help herself, Serena continued to stare. He looked much like the others. Between the rents in his clothing and the spaces between his black ribs, she could see his esophagus undulate, and the swallowed wine swell his stomach. She watched transfixed as his dark heart beat, and his equally black lungs expanded and contracted with every breath.
Picking up a napkin from the table, he politely patted the wine from his teeth and chin. Amazed, Serena felt as though she was having dinner in a graveyard, with all of the interred risen from the ground, to join in the feast.
Wulfgar stood and trained his gaze upon the first of his captains.
"Come to me," he said.
The bizarre servant did as he was told.
"Kneel," Wulfgar ordered. The captain did so.
"Give me your sword."
The captain drew his weapon. It hadn't been freed for centuries, and it made a grating sound when it cleared its scabbard. Even so, the blade gleamed brightly in the lamplight. Bowing his head, the captain respectfully offered the weapon to his lord.
Taking the hilt in his good hand, Wulfgar held the sword to the light. Then he looked at those assembled at the table.
"So that your service to our cause shall have greater meaning for us all, I wish to know each of you by your family house," he said. He looked back down at his kneeling servant. "What was your family name, before your enemies condemned you to the sea?" he asked.
"Merriwhether," the captain answered.
Lowering the tip of the sword, Wulfgar pointed it toward the scabbard at the captain's side. Suddenly, a small, azure bolt of lightning launched from the tip of the weapon. Striking the scabbard, it etched the captain's family name into it. The script was elegant. The lightning disappeared, and Wulfgar raised the sword again.
"Arise, Captain Merriwhether," he said. "Welcome to the Council of Seven."
He handed the weapon back, and with a short bow, the captain stood and sheathed his sword.
As Serena and Einar watched Wulfgar repeat the process with each of the six other captains, Serena took care to remember their names: Merriwhether, Duggan, Sebastion, Grindoff, Cathmore, Ballard, and Garmane.
As they stood before her husband, Serena felt another twinge of her nerves. But this time, she knew, it was caused by her absolute certainty of the success of their mission, and her undying love for her husband. She knew that the Enseterat would return to her in victory.
Wulfgar raised his wine goblet.
"A toast," he said.
As Serena and Einar stood, all lifted their glasses.
"Tomorrow I shall order all of the demonslaver frigates into port, so that they will not interfere with your maneuvers," Wulfgar said. He raised his wine goblet higher.