Faegan took hold of the knife handle and, with a quick, sure pull, removed it from Geldon's head.
The wizard held the bloody knife to the light. Turning it over, he examined it closely. Try as he might he could find nothing out of the ordinary about it.
"Was the knife his property?" he asked Ox. "Or did it belong to someone else?"
"It be his," the warrior answered. "He bring it from Parthalon."
"I see," Faegan answered. "This is all so puzzling. What I can tell you is that this knife has not been charmed in any way. This weapon is only the instrument of Geldon's death, not the underlying cause." He placed the knife on a side table.
"Before he died, did he complain of anything?" Faegan asked. "Was he ill in any way?"
Ox shook his head. "He complain about derma-gnashers," he said. "He be bitten on neck. I laugh at him. But that close to forest, we all be bitten."
Faegan nodded. Turning the dwarf's head to one side he saw the small lump indicative of a derma-gnasher attack. The area was red and swollen, and he could see where the dwarf had scratched it.
Faegan then closely examined Geldon's nails and the inside of his mouth; he saw nothing untoward. Shaking his head, he looked down at the bite again. He asked Abbey to come closer and pointed to the bite.
"As a practicing herbmistress, do you see anything unusual there?" he asked.
Abbey bent over to look.
"No," she said flatly. "The bite seems to be of no consequence."
"I agree," Faegan answered.
"May I examine the wound?" Duvessa asked. Faegan nodded.
Coming around the table, Duvessa put her hands behind Geldon's head and raised it upward. She placed one eye very near the damaged socket and examined it closely. Finally she placed the head back down upon the table.
"There is nothing inconsistent here," she said. "I have seen it before. Death is instantaneous. Still, none of this answers the larger question-just what possessed him to do it?"
"What indeed?" Faegan repeated. He looked back over at Abbey, Adrian, and Vivian. His face was stern.
"In order to learn more I will be forced to do a necropsy," he said.
"Since I have not done one since the Sorceresses' War and Wigg is not here to help, assisting me has now become your job. Abbey, I want you to keep an especially sharp lookout for anything of the organic facet of the craft that seems to be unusual, especially regarding Geldon's unendowed blood. Duvessa, you will assist me with organ removal. Every cut you make must be clean and sure, if we are to ever find the answer to this. As for Adrian and Vivian-well, let's just say that this shall be the sisterhood's induction into this particular art of the craft." Then he looked back down at the corpse and laid one hand tenderly upon Geldon's shoulder.
"Are you all with me?" he asked. "Given his many sacrifices for us, we owe it to him to find out what truly happened." Without hesitation each of the women agreed.
"I have request," Ox suddenly said.
"What is it?" Faegan asked.
"On behalf of other warriors, I ask you grant him Minion funeral pyre when you done. He deserve it."
Faegan thought for a moment. "Very well," he answered. "But only after we have finished-and not before the other members of the Conclave have returned to the palace and paid their respects."
Ox nodded. "Minions thank Faegan," he said.
Faegan reached over to a nearby table and took up a small, razor-sharp knife. Its blade glinted in the light. Looking back down, he suddenly remembered the first crudely written note he had received from Geldon by way of a Parthalonian racing pigeon. He remembered how it had excited him to have finally found a friend from across the sea. Tears came again, and he brushed them away with a forearm.
Reaching down, he placed the blade of the knife against the cold, white flesh. less than an hour later, Vivian walked alone through the palace halls. She had told Faegan that the necropsy had made her ill and that she needed to get some air. Understanding, he had granted her permission to leave.
Quietly she made her way up out of the Redoubt and through the Hall of Supplication. As she walked among the healing stations, the midday breeze wafted pleasantly through the open windows. She continued on through the great room and out into the courtyard beyond. Pausing, she took a deep breath. She hadn't really been ill, but the fresh air rejuvenated her just the same.
Many Minion tents still stood here to shelter the wounded. More often than not, the stricken citizens looked up at her with gratitude as she walked among them. Unlike the way many of them felt about the prince and the rest of his entourage, they all seemed to have great respect for the kindly women in the red robes. To keep up appearances she stopped to speak with several of them before walking to the drawbridge.
As she strolled under the portcullis and started over the moat, the warriors standing guard came to attention and smartly clicked their heels. The assistant to the First Sister was an important person, after all.
She nodded back politely and pulled the hood of her robe up over her head. Turning right onto the nearest street, she continued on her way and became one with the crowd.
Most of the bodies had been removed from the streets, but an odd sense of fatalism lay over the city, combined with an atmosphere that was almost festive. It was almost as if everyone was waiting for the rampaging orb to reach the capital and destroy everything in its path, a dread anticipation that brought with it a sense of abandon.
This once-fashionable, quiet section of the city was deteriorating into another Bargainers' Square-complete with whores of both sexes, drunkards, and scoundrels of every kind. Had she not possessed her skills of the craft, Vivian would have been reluctant to venture here alone. Peering out from the shadows of her hood, she walked on.
The street ended in a roundabout surrounding a small fountain. A number of people loitered there, but she could afford to be patient. She sat down on the ledge of the pool to wait for the right moment.
At last, she slipped one hand into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a small handful of wheat grains taken from the palace kitchens. She kept her hand closed tightly around them and closed her eyes.
The faintest hint of azure escaped from between her fingers, then faded. Shifting her weight slightly, she released the grains into the water and smiled.
The dwarf was dead, the method of his death stymieing even the wizard Faegan. Clearly, Satine had succeeded with the first of her sanctions. Soon Bratach and Ivan would know, and would send Satine toward her next target. Then their master and his army would return from across the sea, and everything would change.
Her task here complete, the acolyte stood and stretched. As she started back to the palace, she smiled. Truth be known, she had been intrigued by the necropsy. Perhaps she would watch the rest of it after all.
CHAPTER XXXII
Wulfgar, Serena, and Einar stood together at the western shore of the Isle of the Citadel, the rays of the rising sun just beginning to emerge at their backs. As he cast his gaze out over the Sea of Whispers, Wulfgar thought of the orders the Heretics of the Guild had imparted to him the previous evening.
He had been with his beloved queen. It was early evening at the Citadel and the stars were just coming out. Seated in the throne room, the two of them had been happily considering names for their unborn daughter. Then the familiar feeling had come over him. Without speaking the Enseterat rose from his throne. Understanding what was happening, Serena watched in awestruck silence.