She selected one dart, carefully opened the vial, dipped the tip of the dart into the poison, and then closed the vial again. She placed the dart into the near end of the tube and replaced the tube on the ground. She was nearly ready.
She took up the fourth item. It was a small, forked twig cut the day before from a hinteroot tree. She placed it on the ground just forward of her head. She looked back down into the campsite. Blessedly, nothing had changed.
She took the branch and pushed one end of it into the ground. The Y-shaped fork pointed upward. Closing one eye, she then twisted the branch in the ground until it was facing just right. She reached back for the tube and gently placed its far end into the crook of the upright branch. Her target sat just beyond.
Finally ready, Satine closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths and then she held the last one in. She placed her mouth against the near end of the tube, took careful aim, and waited for the wind to abate.
The grasses surrounding Satine stopped swaying. Her time was at hand. She remained immobile, lying as silent as death as she sighted the blowgun on her victim. Using everything she had, she expelled the air from her lungs into the tube.
After a final look, the Gray Fox smiled. Then she collected her things and began slinking back the way she had come. When he felt the bite Geldon instinctively reached up and slapped himself on the side of the neck. Looking down at his hand he saw a small bit of his own blood and the remains of smashed insect wings. Scowling, he wiped his hand down the length of his trousers and then looked over at Ox. The Minion was still eating.
"I've just been bitten again," Geldon grumbled.
The side of his neck began to itch, and he scratched it. He could feel the usual bump on the skin begin to rise. He had been bitten several times since coming to live in Eutracia, and he found it annoying.
"What is it that they call these things again?" he asked.
In between bites of the venison, Ox grinned.
"They be derma-gnashers," he answered. "They be pesky, but they not be dangerous."
"Wigg and Faegan should rid the land of these nuisances," Geldon groused as he settled back down against the log. He scratched his neck again. Attempting to ignore the bite, he turned his attention back to the warrior playing the lyre and reciting the love poems.
As he did, a warrior walked up and tossed another log upon their fire. Geldon said good night and retired to his tent. Full of meat and swill, Ox happily fell asleep by the fire. Several hours passed as the moons chased each other across the sky.
But when the screaming started the entire camp came alive.
Ox was on his feet immediately. He turned around, frantic, unable to find the source of the noise. Then Geldon came tearing out of his tent. His eyes bulged; his face was so red Ox thought it might burst. In his hand he held a dagger, which he waved all about like a madman. He was only half clothed.
Glaring at the warriors, he began screaming vulgar, insulting epithets at them. Ox and the others simply stood there, staring at him. Never in their lives had they seen anyone in command of the Minions act this way. It seemed that the dwarf had suddenly gone insane.
Geldon's rantings became even more abusive. He waved the knife faster. Uncertainly, Ox took a tentative step forward. Holding the knife higher, Geldon backed away like a cornered animal.
"What be wrong?" Ox asked, holding out his hands. He looked Geldon up and down again. "You be ill?"
"No, I'm not ill, you winged moron!" Geldon snarled at him. Reaching up, he wiped some of the sweat from his face. A bit of foam dripped from one corner of his mouth. Then a wicked smile came.
"And none of you abominations of the craft can stop me! If any of you come closer, I'll kill you all, I swear it!"
More confused than ever, Ox searched Geldon's face. It was the face of one who had lost all reason.
"What you want do?" the great warrior asked.
Geldon lowered the knife for a moment and a brief look of calm passed over him.
"All I want you to do is watch, you ignorant bastards," he hissed.
"Watch and remember."
Before Ox could move, Geldon raised his dagger and plunged it into his own right eye.
He didn't scream, tremble, or complain. As the fluid from his injured eye snaked down his cheek, the other eye closed, and he began to fall forward.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
CHAPTER XXIX
Tristan watched anxiously as the black iron door, creaking on its hinges, grudgingly opened in response to Wigg's azure bolts. Complete darkness reigned on the other side. No sound came from the depths.
The prince, Alrik, and Celeste waited for Wigg to lead them in, but the wizard showed no signs of moving. Tristan narrowed his eyes to try to see into the room beyond, but nothing was visible in the inky darkness. Awaiting their orders, the rest of the warriors stood staunchly behind them in the knee-deep ash. Wigg finally turned to face everyone.
"I suspect that there will be enchanted lamps in there, just as there were here," he whispered. "After I light them I will go in first-followed by Celeste, then the prince, and finally the warriors." Tristan started to object, but Wigg quickly raised his hand, cutting him off.
"If I am correct and these were once Failee's personal research chambers, then there are bound to be safeguards of some sort. I want Celeste to follow me because of her prowess with throwing azure bolts. Magic will be far more effective in this place than any metal weapon ever made, I assure you!" Then he looked past Tristan to his daughter.
"Sheathe your sword," he whispered. "It will only interfere with your use of the craft." Celeste did as she was told.
Wigg turned back to face the darkness. Raising his arms, he called the craft again. Light slowly began to build on the other side of the door and gradually flooded out over the dark gray ash. Wigg carefully walked through the door. The others followed close behind.
Tristan felt as if he had been here before. But that was impossible, he thought, as he looked around. Then he realized why it all felt so familiar: the place was like a miniature version of the Archives of the Redoubt.
The room was large; its ceiling very high. Several closed doors were visible in its stone walls. The many wall sconces Wigg had illuminated burned brightly, giving everything an eerie, almost sterile feel.
Lining the walls were tall bookcases packed with texts, scrolls, and parchments. Worktables sat here and there littered with tools of the craft: tubes, beakers, and charts of esoteric symbols. The air was dusty and dank.
Walking over to what had apparently been Failee's desk, Wigg sadly ran one of his long fingers across the wood. His fingertip traced a telltale line in the dust. He sighed, and a distinct shininess appeared in his eyes. But, true to form, he collected himself. Placing his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robes, he lifted his head and resumed his examination of the room.
Tristan couldn't quite escape the feeling that there was something wrong about the room, as if significant parts of the puzzle were still missing. He lowered his dreggan and, accompanied by Celeste, walked over to Wigg.
"Are you thinking the same thing that I am?" he asked.
Wigg pursed his lips. "If you're saying that there must be more to all of this than just what we see here, then, yes, I am," he said. Wigg looked over at one of the closed doors in a far wall. "Our search for this so-called Scroll Master may prove to take far longer than we imagined-if he is here at all. There is no telling how large this place might be."
Suddenly, with a great bang, the door they had used to enter the room swung shut. Several warriors ran to it and tried to pry it open again, but even their combined strength couldn't budge it. A terrible stench filled the air.