He smiled. Although Shailiha and Caprice were oftentimes inseparable, the princess had chosen to leave the flier behind when she left on her mission with Tyranny.
"I know," Faegan said. "I miss her, too."
The wizard sat on the balcony overlooking the aviary of the fliers of the fields. This was perhaps his favorite place in the world. He often came here to be alone and to think. Located in the depths of the Redoubt, the aviary was more than three stories high and filled with soaring fliers of all the colors of the rainbow. Oil sconces on the light-blue marble walls gave the chamber a soft, welcoming feel.
Faegan gave the violin a gentle shake, and Caprice launched herself into the air to rejoin her fellows. As she went, Faegan's sadness returned.
He hadn't come here to punish himself, although that was what sitting here alone had come to feel like.
He was worried for all of those who were now so far afield. Geldon's note, which had arrived the previous night, had done nothing to assuage his fears about the rampaging orb. He feared for Wigg, Tristan, and Celeste, as they probed the depths of the Recluse. But he was most concerned about the welfare of Shailiha and Tyranny, and all of the other brave souls aboard the Reprise.
He knew that the theory behind transporting something so large was basically sound. He was also reasonably sure that his calculations for the ship's destination in the Sea of Whispers were accurate-at least to within a league or so. But when the portal had swallowed up the ship, his blood had run cold.
He had never known the vortex to make any sound whatsoever, much less the terrible screeching noise he had heard that day. He had come to the conclusion that this had been because of the portal's unusual size, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it for the time being. But still he worried. Sending the ship through a portal had been his idea.
On top of all those concerns, something even worse gnawed at his conscience and his sense of personal honor.
Because he had broken under Wulfgar's torture, the Scroll of the Vigors had become damaged. And as long as Wulfgar-who, he was sure, still lived-possessed the Scroll of the Vagaries, their trials and tribulations might never end.
He looked down at the simple black robe that covered his partially destroyed legs and memories of the excruciating pain Wulfgar had caused them came flooding in. A lone tear traced its way down his cheek. Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the fliers again.
He suddenly sensed familiar, endowed blood on the other side of the doors behind him. Sitting up a bit straighter in his chair, he cleared his throat and quickly wiped the tear from his face.
He heard the doors open. Swiveling his chair around, he found Abbey standing there. Her face was white and her hands trembled. She had been crying.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Abbey took a few tentative steps. She kneeled down and took one of his gnarled hands into hers. Her hands still shook.
"You must prepare yourself, for I bring terrible news," she said, her voice breaking.
Faegan swallowed hard. Rather than ask her again he simply waited, his heart in his throat.
"Geldon is dead," she said.
For several long moments the wizard sat there in his chair, frozen in the moment.
"How?" he asked at last. It had been a struggle to get the word out.
"Was it the orb?"
Abbey shook her head. "No. I think you had best hear the tale from Ox. Even after witnessing Geldon's death, the Minions don't understand what happened. It seems to be a puzzle that only a full-fledged wizard or sorceress might unravel." She paused. "But I'm afraid there is even worse news," she said softly. "And this does have to do with the orb."
Not altogether sure that he could bear any more bad tidings, Faegan looked back out over the aviary. His hands tightened around the violin. "What is it?"
"Ox says that the orb has changed course," she answered. "It has struck the Tolenka Mountains and is heading west. It is literally carving a pass through the peaks. If it burns all the way through to the other side-"
"I am well aware of the prophecy," he answered, cutting her off. His voice was little more than a whisper.
He covered his face with his hands. Then, taking a deep breath, Faegan did his best to gather himself up and speak again. But in the end all he could do was nod. Without a last look at the fliers, he gave his chair a push and followed Abbey down the hall. after Ox told Faegan of Geldon's strange and terrible death, the wizard gathered up Abbey, Adrian, Ox, and Duvessa in a special room in the Redoubt. Also present was Vivian of the House of Wentworth, Adrian's assistant in the sisterhood.
Vivian was rather short, with curly blond hair and a kind, intelligent face. The dark red robe of her office fell loosely over her slim body. Faegan was not well acquainted with the young woman, but what he knew of her he liked. Given the nature of the tragedy, he thought it fitting that she join them.
Faegan had gathered them here because he knew that a grisly service would have to be performed. With Wigg in Parthalon, only he would be able to do it.
The room in which they stood was called the Cubiculum of Humanistic Research. Here, the consuls and the late Directorate of Wizards had done extensive study of the human form and how it related to the science of the craft. Due to their understandable worry regarding the ethics involved, the Directorate had debated for nearly a decade before finally voting to build it. When construction was done, a strict policy had been established that the research conducted here was to take place only upon subjects who had already died, and only for the explicit benefit of the Vigors.
The room held several examination tables. Side tables bearing metal instruments stood next to many of them. Glass cabinets lined the walls. The floor was brilliant white. Everything sparkled with cleanliness.
On the table before Faegan lay Geldon's dead body, covered by a black sheet. Ox had immediately ordered it packed in ice from one of the mountainside glaciers. He had then had it flown back to the palace as fast as possible. That had been good thinking and Faegan had told him so. Now, narrowing his eyes, Faegan used the craft to activate an azure field around the table that would preserve the corpse for as long as necessary.
Faegan sadly looked up at Ox. Minion warriors supposedly never cried-at least that was one of the legends they chose to propagate. But on more than one occasion today Faegan had seen the tears in Ox's eyes, and he understood. Ox just nodded back.
Faegan found the tale of Geldon's death as difficult to believe as everyone else. For Geldon to suddenly commit suicide was completely out of character-especially since his coming to live with them here in Eutracia.
"Are you quite sure that he seemed perfectly normal before he killed himself?" the wizard asked.
Ox nodded. "He worried about orb, but all of us be. We eat and drink much. Then he go to sleep in tent. Ox fall asleep by fire. But when Geldon wake up in middle of night, he be crazy. He come out of tent, waving knife. He say many bad things-things Ox never hear him say before."
"And then?"
"Then he stab himself with knife. Geldon must want die that night. Ox swear as Minion warrior."
Faegan managed a slight smile. "No one doubts your word, my friend."
Frustrated, he rubbed his face. After levitating his chair to a more appropriate height, he grabbed one corner of the sheet, then paused and looked over at the others.
"You might want to prepare yourselves," he said gently. Then he slowly pulled the sheet away from the corpse and let it fall to the floor.
There was no disputing that the naked body was Geldon's, or that the hunchbacked dwarf was dead. Ox had wisely left the knife undisturbed, its handle still protruding from the ravaged eye socket. Vitreous fluid and blood had dried splattered upon Geldon's face. The body was white and cold.