"If you must know, it is ground root of canckleberry, sliced blossom of synthia, and boiled water. It will help you to recover your strength. It will also aid the spell of accelerated healing that I granted over your wound. Out here in the wilderness, it was the best I could come up with."
Tristan took a gulp of Wigg's potion; it tasted awful. He winced.
"Your cure is worse than my injury," he said.
Smiling, Celeste bent to kiss him. "We were so worried about you," she said. "For a time, I thought I was going to lose you forever."
Tristan smiled back and gingerly raised himself up onto his elbows.
Suddenly it all came flooding back. Satine, the fight in the meadow, his wound, her death…He twisted to look down at his left shoulder. The arrow shaft had been removed. Bandages had been wound around the joint, and spots of azure blood dotted the fabric. The front of his black leather vest was streaked with dried azure blood. Pain momentarily overwhelmed him, and he settled back down upon his makeshift bed.
"It was Satine," he said.
"We know," Wigg answered. "Her body matched the description given to us by Uther. We buried her in the meadow. I found some interesting items hidden in the lining of her cloak. Faegan was right about her methods of killing. I found something even more interesting in one of her boots," he added wryly.
"And what was that?" Tristan asked.
"A list," Wigg answered. "I haven't made complete sense of it yet, but I think it might be a list of safe houses. I recognize many of the names matching the addresses-all onetime Consuls of the Redoubt. It appears torn at the bottom, as though she wanted part of the list removed for some reason. I suppose we'll never know."
"She hesitated," Tristan said, more to himself than to the others. Then he looked up. "She had me dead to rights, and then she hesitated. Why would she do that?"
Wigg shook his head. "Perhaps it was a sudden lapse in resolve. Who knows? In the end, all that matters is that you survived and she did not."
"How did you find me?"
"I wake up by fire to see you gone," Ox said. "Other warriors say they see you go off to horses. I go to find you. Just as I first see you, you kill Satine. I call out for wizard and other warriors."
"What time of day is it?" Tristan asked.
"Midafternoon," Wigg answered. "Do you feel well enough to travel in a litter? We're losing valuable time."
Tristan raised himself up again. "I'll ride."
"Oh, no," Wigg answered adamantly. "I can't take the chance of your wound opening up again. Besides, we're down to Shadow and one other horse." He gave Tristan a critical look. "You managed to get my mare killed, remember?"
Tristan nodded. "Very well," he answered. "And I'm sorry about your horse."
"If Tristan travels by litter, then so do I," Celeste announced.
"Very well," Wigg said. "Let's go."
Wigg looked over at Ox. "Tell the warriors to strike the camp," he said.
As Ox went to follow his orders, Wigg and Celeste helped the prince to his feet. Three hours later, Tristan looked down from his minion litter. They were traveling through the flat grasslands of Farplain, as they had been for the last two days. Wigg's spells had helped his shoulder greatly, but it still throbbed from time to time. As a precaution he periodically flexed his muscles to keep them from stiffening. The exercise hurt like the blazes, but he knew that later he would be glad he had done it. His weapons were back in place over his right shoulder. At least the arm I rely on the most was spared, he thought.
Ox flew alongside the litter. He looked over from time to time, as if he were expecting the prince to do something foolish-like dive out to the plain below, perhaps. One corner of Tristan's mouth curled into a smile. After the scare he had given them all last evening in the meadow, he really couldn't blame Ox for being so protective.
Celeste lay asleep on the floor. Her hair was completely gray now, and her skin was lined with wrinkles. Her face had an unhealthy pallor, and it was growing difficult for her to move. Even so, he loved her as much as ever.
Down on the ground and slightly ahead of the flying Minion cohort, Wigg led the way on Shadow.
Tristan cursed softly. He hated traveling so slowly-especially when every moment was so important to Celeste. He knew that Wigg felt the same way, but what else could they do? Every time Wigg tried to charge ahead, he lost the spell-only to have it return when he slowed. It was an agonizingly frustrating way to travel.
His thoughts again found their way back to Satine. She had perhaps been the best adversary he had ever faced, and he knew that he was lucky to be alive. On their way from the camp, he had seen the simple stone marker that Wigg had erected at her fresh grave. He had used the craft to inscribe the single word "Satine" into its face, along with the date of her death. It was all that they really knew about her. Who was she, and who trained her so well? the prince wondered. He would probably never know.
Below, Wigg brought Shadow to an abrupt stop. For several moments the wizard did not move. Then he looked up and waved the warriors down.
Tristan's heart fell. The sun was setting, and the wizard had chosen this spot to camp for the night. This was the only reason they could be stopping-because there was nothing but grasslands for as far as the eye could see.
He looked down at Celeste as they descended, and closed his eyes against the pain he felt for her.
The Minions and their litters landed. Celeste stirred and sat up. Running one hand back through her hair, she blinked. Tristan helped her from the litter, and they walked over to Wigg. Her gait was even slower now, her limp more noticeable.
The wizard dismounted, handing Shadow's reins to a waiting warrior. He looked perplexed.
"What is it?" Tristan asked.
At first Wigg did not answer. He simply stared out over the vast grasslands as if searching for something.
"I've lost it," he said softly.
"Lost what?" Celeste asked.
"The River of Thought," Wigg answered. "Its pull upon me has vanished."
"But how can that be?" Tristan protested. "You weren't traveling fast enough to lose the spell."
Wigg sighed. "There can be only two explanations," he said. "The first is that the spell has been broken somehow-which would mean that we may never find the place we are searching for."
"And the other answer?" Tristan asked.
"The other possibility is that we have arrived, and the pull from the River of Thought is no longer required."
Tristan looked around. All he could see was waving grass.
"But how could this be the place?" he asked. "There's nothing here."
Wigg was about to answer when they all heard a rumbling. Almost simultaneously, the ground began to shake. Shadow and the other horse reared up and whinnied in fear. As they looked around, the warriors of the Minion cohort automatically drew their blades.
The rumbling sound grew louder and the earth shook more violently, making it difficult to remain standing. Tristan was about to order everyone into the air when he saw a pinprick of azure light form in the grass. He pointed it out to Wigg and Celeste. As the light grew in size and intensity, everyone stepped back.
Something emerged from the ground. At first they could see only azure light, but then another form started to take shape. It was like an arrow, with four sides extending down from its pinnacle. On and on it came, thundering up from the soil and tearing fresh sod loose as it grew. Its azure light was nearly blinding. Then it came to a halt. The rumbling sound died away, and the ground stilled once more.