"Please forgive the intrusion," he said, "but the others asked me to come and tell you that all has been made ready. Everyone is gathered and waiting."
Nodding, Tristan took a deep breath. "Tell them we will be there momentarily," he said.
"Very well," Shannon answered.
As the gnome walked away, Tristan shut the door. He looked across the room at the two wizards.
"It's time," he said softy. Then he looked at the demonslaver. "What about him?"
"There's nothing more that he can tell us," Faegan answered. "There is only one thing to do."
He looked at Wigg. "Do you agree?" he asked.
Pursing his lips, Wigg nodded.
"And does the Jin'Sai agree?" Faegan asked.
Tristan nodded. "But make it painless," he commanded. "Not long ago, this bastardization of the craft was a fellow Eutracian."
Wigg shook his head. "I cannot do this in any fashion-painless or otherwise. You're forgetting my vows."
Tristan nodded. He had forgotten the vows that had been made by all the members of the Directorate.
"Faegan," he asked, "will you-"
"Yes," the old wizard answered.
Faegan pointed at the demonslaver, who continued to stand there placidly, his mind still under the First Wizard's control.
There is something very wrong about this, Tristan thought. But he had to admit that there was also something satisfying-even righteous-about it. As he watched, the slaver's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor.
Saying nothing more, the three friends left the room, each aware that their next task would be equally unpleasant.
Tristan quietly shut the door behind them. Tristan, Faegan, and Wigg emerged at the back of the palace. It was a clear night, and the three moons cast their combined glow across the ground. The air smelled clean and sweet, but the prince knew that it wouldn't stay that way for much longer.
By prior order of the Jin'Sai, the wounded had been moved out of the spacious rear courtyards. The other members of the Conclave stood waiting. When Celeste saw Tristan she gave him a sad but encouraging smile. Pursing his lips, he nodded back at her. The rest of the area was filled to overflowing with Minions; more of the winged warriors circled silently in the sky above, their numbers sometimes blotting out the moons.
The Acolytes of the Redoubt were also here, as were all of the palace gnomes. Crude wooden stands had been constructed for the gnomes to stand upon, so that they wouldn't become lost in the massive crowd. The ever-protective Shawna the Short held Morganna close.
A clearing had been preserved in the middle of the courtyard. In its center stood two tall funeral pyres, with a ladder against each. Geldon lay upon one pyre, Lionel upon the other. Around them, hundreds of standing torches had been lit, adding to the sense of solemnity.
The necropsy that had been performed upon Lionel's body had revealed it contained the same substances that Geldon's had: human brain matter, human yellow bone marrow, human red bone marrow, root of gingercrinkle, and oil of encumbrance. The only difference had been that Lionel's blood showed traces of honey, rather than derma-gnasher venom.
It was clear that despite the different ways in which Geldon and Lionel had taken their own lives, they had been poisoned by the same assassin. Every person here-human, Minion, and gnome alike-wanted the killer dead. For Satine, Eutracia was about to become a very small and dangerous place.
Traax walked slowly forward, holding a flaming torch. Going down on bended knee, he handed it expressionlessly up to the Jin'Sai.
Tristan took the torch and turned to face the crowd. The thousands of Minions suddenly went to one knee in the soft, dewy grass.
"We live to serve!" came the thunderous oath, its power so great that it seemed to shake the earth. Lifting his hands, Tristan beckoned them all to stand.
The prince knew that it had long been Minion custom that no eulogy should be given before the traditional lighting of the pyres. Like the Minions themselves, the philosophy behind the ritual was both solemn and simple. A disgraced warrior was never granted honorary immolation. The fact that these two bodies lay upon pyres tacitly told everyone all they needed to know.
Still, as he walked to the pyres Tristan found himself torn about whether to speak. He hadn't known Lionel well, but Geldon had been a close friend. His eyes filled with tears as he remembered the first time he had met the hunchbacked dwarf in the Ghetto of the Shunned in Parthalon. Physically, Geldon had been small. But the goodness of his heart and the quickness of his mind had more than made up for it.
Standing before the pyres, Tristan made his decision and raised the torch. Better to let everyone say goodbye in his or her own way.
Tristan touched the torch first to Geldon's pyre and then to Lionel's. The fire caught quickly, and he lodged the torch in Lionel's pyre before stepping back.
As the flames roared into the night sky, an idea came to him. There is indeed one last thing that we can do to honor you, he thought.
Tristan reached back and drew his dreggan, its curved blade ringing as it slid from its scabbard. Raising it high, he pressed the button on the sword's hilt. With a deadly clang the blade launched forward. Knowing what would happen next, the Jin'Sai kept his weapon high as he looked over his legions.
Thousands of dreggans immediately left their scabbards, the combined ring of their blades filling the courtyard. With one heart, the warriors all triggered their blades, the clang nearly deafening. His jaw set, Tristan looked back to the pyres.
We will find the one who did this to you, he silently swore. And she will pay with her life.
CHAPTER LXIV
Two hours later, Celeste stood at the window of her personal quarters. Despite the sadness of the immolation ceremony, the night still seemed beautiful, peaceful. She silently blessed the fact that her view did not overlook the flaming funeral pyres.
The cool evening wind wafted gently into the room. The stars twinkled down at her as though she were the only person in creation. Normally these things would have given her great pleasure, but not just now. Another wave of awful pain came over her, and she was forced to go sit on the bed.
The first attack had come during the lighting of the pyres. The grinding, exquisite pain felt like thousands of tiny needles stabbing into the very essence of her being. It had lasted only a few moments, but that had been an eternity. As the pain recurred, she had done her best to hide it from the others, and she believed that no one had noticed.
As this latest attack subsided, her hands shook and she was bathed in sweat. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed that no one would see her like this-at least not for a while. If these attacks worsened with the progression of her illness, she knew she would not be able to keep them secret for long.
She had told Tristan only part of the truth about why she wanted to visit these rooms. As his new wife, she would take up residence with him in his quarters. She had told him that she needed to come here to collect some of her things. The rest could be delivered by the Minions later, she had said.
Her real reason was that she needed time to think. She was acutely aware of how guilty Tristan already felt about her condition-and how intensely worried he was about all of the other troubles plaguing the nation. She knew that if these attacks continued, soon there would be no way she could keep him from seeing them. Before that day arrived, she wanted to sort things out for herself-especially before she left with Tristan and her father to search for the Scroll Master. Once they departed the palace, she might never have the luxury of another private moment.
Standing on shaky legs, she walked back to the window. An idea had been brewing in her mind ever since she and Tristan had been told about her condition. She was aware that he was trying to be as supportive as he could. But each of them knew that it was what they did not say that somehow always seemed to negate whatever assurances they gave one another. A dark cloud hung over them that could be banished in only one of two ways: if they found the Scroll Master soon and he agreed to help them, or if she were to die.