"I understand," the privateer said. "We may be few in number, but with the Minions and the acolytes aboard, we will give the demonslavers a reception they will never forget."
"What about the rest of us?" Shailiha asked.
"You are to stay here and help Jessamay and me. And you can pray that Wigg and Tristan arrive home in time. Without the Jin'Sai and the First Wizard, everything else we do will be for naught."
CHAPTER LXXVII
With Celeste still unconscious in his arms, Tristan followed the Scroll Master down the brilliant azure hallway. Wigg walked beside him. The prince's shoulder hurt desperately, but he refused to give Celeste to her father. If he should lose the love of his life this day, he wanted to remember that it had been he who had carried her. The only sounds were their footfalls as they followed the hovering boy.
Soon, though, they began to hear strange sounds as they walked. The sounds, which seemed to be a bizarre mix of moaning and sobbing, grew louder and more distinct, and at first Tristan thought he was imagining things. He looked over at Wigg. The First Wizard nodded; he heard it also.
Another intersection loomed up ahead. It was circular, with still more hallways branching off from it. Dense, gray fog filled the space where a floor should have been and spilled out over the narrow walkway around the edge of the room. A white marble railing ran around the edge of the walkway.
As he entered the intersection, Tristan's nerves coiled up. Now he could recognize the sounds for what they were: the combined wails of a host of human beings. Not since the day of his ill-fated coronation and the attack of the Minions upon Eutracia had Tristan heard such a chorus of human suffering. But he could see nothing save for the marble walkway, gray fog, and circular railing that lay several steps beyond.
The young Scroll Master stopped and turned to face them. His face was serene, his manner calm.
"You may put the woman down," he said. "She will survive for the time being. There is something I must show you. If you follow my instructions, you will be safe. Disobey me, however, and harm will befall you beyond even my control."
Unsure of what to do, Tristan looked over at Wigg. The First Wizard nodded. Tristan gently lowered Celeste to the floor.
"Come with me," the boy said. "Under no circumstances are either of you to violate the boundaries of the rail."
Doing as they were told, they followed the boy to the rail. As they did, the rising gray fog slowly wound around their feet. Tristan looked down.
The breath rushed from his lungs, and for several long moments the prince was sure that he would become ill. Then his nerves began to quiet. As he had suspected, there was no floor beneath the fog. The circle was far larger than it had first appeared. Tristan now guessed it to be at least one hundred meters across. But how can this be? he wondered. Somehow, the normal rules of space and distance do not apply here.
About five meters down, billowing waves of black fog washed to and fro. They looked bottomless. The wails and cries were much louder now.
From amid the waves of fog, naked human beings rose and fell. Blood ran from their eyes. As if trying to save themselves from drowning, they fought their way to the surface, only to be sucked back down into the churning, swirling chaos.
As they cried out, sometimes they would claw, strike, and bite one another in their never-ending attempts to rise free. Some of them would scrabble at the smooth glassy walls, only to fall prey to the grasping fog once again and disappear. Their bleeding gazes stabbed their way into the prince's heart.
Tristan turned to the Scroll Master. "Is this the Afterlife?" he asked, horrified.
The young boy shook his head. "This is the Abyss of Lost Souls," he said. "It is for neither the living nor the dead. It is, rather, the place in between. Only certain souls suffer the misfortune of imprisonment here. Each of them is of endowed blood, and once one is cast into the pit, his life and his suffering become eternal. Those you see here died over the course of aeons in your world, but they did not successfully cross over into the Afterlife."
"I don't understand," Wigg said.
"The answer is as simple as it is complex, as crude as it is elegant," the boy said. "You see, each of these lost souls-were they one time of either the Vigors or of the Vagaries-once possessed Forestallments. But when they died-their blood signatures dying shortly thereafter-in your world no thunder rumbled across the sky, and no wind rose. They simply went into the void, to end up here."
"Why?" Wigg asked.
"Because their Forestallments were not collected successfully," the boy answered. "That is why they bleed from their eyes. You have by now learned that blood runs closest to the surface of the body in the white of one's eyes, have you not? And that if properly trained, one of the craft is able to detect the lean of a blood signature simply by looking into a subject's eyes?"
Wigg nodded. The boy turned to look at Tristan.
"You, Jin'Sai, will be the first human in all of history to willingly give up his Forestallments," he said. "Ridding you of the Forestallments that Succiu imparted to your blood is the only way that your blood can be changed back to red."
Stunned, Tristan looked back down into the Abyss of Lost Souls. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked. In his heart he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the Scroll Master say it.
"It is important that you see and understand this place," the Scroll Master said, "because if your Forestallments are not collected successfully, your body and soul will be condemned to this place for all of eternity. If that happens, then being the Jin'Sai will no longer have any meaning."
Tristan looked back down into the writhing mass of tortured souls. Closing his eyes, he hung his head as he contemplated such a fate. But, he knew, there could be no going back now.
"You say that his Forestallments are to be 'collected,' " Wigg said. "What do you mean by that? When a Forestallment dies, it simply vanishes into nothingness. Isn't that so?"
"No," the boy answered. "But I may only share the answer with the Jin'Sai-or the Jin'Saiou, should that become necessary. I am forbidden to reveal it to any other. Should Tristan survive, he shall become part of one of the most hallowed, most intricate of the many processes left behind by the Ones Who Came Before. He shall also be witness to one of their greatest constructs. They knew his blood might turn to azure should he somehow fall into the wrong hands. I was placed here aeons ago to help him should such a fate befall him."
"Are you one of the Ones Who Came Before?" Wigg asked.
"No," the boy said. "I am but one of their servants." He looked at Tristan again.
"What say you?" he asked. "Are you prepared to come with me?"
Tristan did not look up. "Yes," he answered softly. "There is no other choice."
He turned toward Wigg. "If I never return, tell Celeste how much I loved her," he whispered. "And tell Shailiha to be brave, for with me gone she will have to carry on the struggle to unite the two sides of the craft."
Tristan walked over to Celeste and took her into his arms. She felt cold and lifeless, as though she were already gone. A tear escaped from one of his eyes to land upon her wrinkled cheek. He kissed her gently on the lips.
"Goodbye, my darling," he said softly.
He carried her over to Wigg and placed her into her father's arms. Saying nothing, he touched Wigg gently on the shoulder and went to stand next to the boy.