Stunned, Dax quickly signaled to his warriors, and the three of them soared down to take a closer look.
There were no major cites in this part of Eutracia, but the Sippora's fertile banks were lined with small farming villages. The water table was notoriously low here, and wells had never been a viable option. But that had never mattered, because for centuries the majestic river and its hundreds of tributaries-supplied by the glacial runoff from the Tolenkas-had easily provided all the water these peaceful farmers could use, both for drinking and for irrigation. It had also granted excellent fishing and trapping, and its fast-moving branches could always be relied upon to turn the waterwheels that milled the farmers' hard-won grain. But now all that had changed.
Dax thought for a moment. If he and his escort swooped closer, he knew that they would frighten the people. But it couldn't be helped. He simply had to know more. Using hand signals, he ordered his warriors down. Buffeting the air with their dark wings, they came to land on the western bank of the river.
As the Minions set down, citizens screamed, scattering with their burdened animals as fast as they could. Dax had harbored a slight hope that he might speak with some of them. But it was clear that he wouldn't get the chance.
Accompanied by his warriors, he walked closer to the river and looked down.
The once beautiful Sippora had become a terrible sight. The water-if one could still call it that-had turned black. As thick as molasses, it moved at about one-third of its normal speed. At first its soft, pliable surface seemed unbroken. But occasionally it would crack open, hiss noisily, then send pent-up energy high into the air.
The Minions could easily feel the damaged river's intense heat, and see the steam that rose from it. Then the Sippora's awful stench reached them. It smelled like a cross between rotting fish and human waste. Everything the river touched, it turned black; the ground on either bank was scorched for quite some distance. In places where the banks had been dry, grass fires had ignited. Many still burned.
The river looked like death itself. Nothing could live in that, Dax thought. But what had caused this horror? Suddenly he understood.
The energy spraying from the ruptured orb had polluted the river, he realized. During the darkness of their night flight, he and his warriors hadn't been able to tell the difference. But in the light of day it was clear that the river's toxic flow was headed straight for Tammerland. When the stinking, superheated mass finally reached the capital, the entire city would go up in flames.
Dax made up his mind. He looked over at one of his fellow warriors and he pointed to the river.
"Arius, see if you can take a sample of whatever that is," he ordered.
"If possible, I want to take some of it back to the wizards. But be careful."
The warrior named Arius clicked his heels. He took up his water flask from one hip. Standard issue for each warrior, the flask was made of metal and had a leather strap. After dumping out its water, Arius walked to the river's edge.
The overpowering heat and stink nearly made him faint. He opened the flask and touched it to the top of the black, slowly moving mass. The flask began to hiss and melted away immediately; the strap burst into flames. Jumping back, Arius realized he had been lucky not to lose his hand.
As Arius walked back, Dax shook his head. Opening his own flask, he took a generous gulp of water, then handed it to Arius to replace the one that the river had just destroyed.
"I want you to fly back to camp and report this," Dax ordered him. "Tell the warriors to gather water only from the glaciers. Under no circumstances are they to approach the Sippora. Go now."
Arius clicked his heels again. "As you wish," he answered. He took several running steps and launched himself into the air. Climbing quickly, he turned northwest, back toward the camp. Soon he was merely a speck in the sky. Then he was gone.
As Dax looked back at the river, the refugees filed grimly past him and his remaining escort; their expressions cautious and hateful, they gave the warriors a wide berth. Many of them were wounded-either by the orb, Dax assumed, or by the strangely mutated waters of the Sippora. Some were hurt so badly that he doubted they would live to see Tammerland.
He shook his head. Tammerland was about to become a living nightmare. For a brief moment he wondered whether the refugees would blame this new calamity on the Jin'Sai as well.
There was nothing more the two warriors could do here. Dax nodded to his escort, and they both took to the air. As the Minion captain gained altitude, he cast his gaze southeast, down the length of the steaming, stinking river.
Even from this height, the refugees lined its banks for as far as the eye could see.
CHAPTER LIX
Deep inside the redoubt, Tristan sat once again at the inlaid table in the ornate meeting room. His dreggan and his sheath of knives hung over the back of his chair. Around him were the other members of the Conclave, a circle of long, discouraged faces.
The prince, Wigg, Celeste, and Jessamay had returned to Eutracia the previous day by way of Faegan's portal, which the wizard had been able to reopen once he had returned from Valrenkium. Tyranny's enchanted litter had finally reached the Reprise and then the group had eventually found the portal Faegan created for them. The return trip had been even harder on the privateer's already mangled flagship. Minion carpenters and Tyranny's crewmen were already hard at work to get her seaworthy again, but it would not be an easy job. The captured demonslaver they had brought back with them sat bound in a chair in another room, guarded by watchful Minions.
Exhausted and disheartened, Tristan wiped his face with his hands, then grabbed his wine goblet and took a drink. They had all been talking for a long time and it wasn't over yet. By now they had all told their various stories to one another, but they had come to no conclusions about what to do next.
Failee's grimoire of tooled red leather lay on the table before Tristan. He knew that Faegan was eager to plumb its depths, but so far the ever-curious wizard had managed to contain himself.
Tyranny sat on Tristan's left. Beside her sat Wigg and Abbey. Faegan-still wearing the Paragon around his neck-was next to Abbey. Adrian, Traax, and Shailiha rounded out the company. Everyone seemed unharmed, save for Traax, whose left arm was in a sling due to the dislocated shoulder he had suffered when some of the falling latticework struck him. Celeste sat quietly on the prince's right. The toddler Morganna sat nearby on the floor, gurgling and batting at some toys. Jessamay occupied what had been Geldon's chair, in between Celeste and Shailiha.
Tristan still couldn't believe that the hunchbacked dwarf was dead. Geldon had proved a good friend-staunch, loyal, and incredibly brave-and his death had left a hole in all their hearts that would be a long time healing. Tristan hadn't known Lionel the Little particularly well, but he knew the diminutive herbmaster would be sorely missed, especially by Faegan.
Faegan had told everyone of the assassin Satine: how she had managed to breach the palace walls, do her dirty work, and then brazenly walk right out again-or so they surmised. The prince was stunned not only by her creativity, but also by her daring and her skill. As he thought of her, his fingers tightened around the wine goblet. It would be pointless to search for her now, just as it would serve no purpose to scour Eutracia for the displaced Valrenkians. Shifting his thoughts back to the present, he looked over at Tyranny and Shailiha.
"You're both sure that it was Wulfgar you saw?" he asked.
Tyranny and Shailiha nodded.
"He was standing on the shore," the privateer said. "There was a woman by his side. She looked pregnant, but I couldn't swear to that. A man stood there, as well. He wore the traditional dark blue robe of a consul. Far more demonslavers guard the Citadel and crew Wulfgar's Black Ships than we ever knew existed. I'm also sorry to say that a substantial demonslaver fleet still exists, patrolling the waters around the island."