She knew that they weren't ready for their rites of ascension. She also knew that not a single woman who had volunteered for these special phalanxes would give up until she had completed the course.
Looking wearily out over the training field, Duvessa understood how much every woman here aspired to wear the red feather-and serve under her command. It would be a heavy responsibility, but one that she welcomed.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see Abbey until the herbmistress was standing right in front of her.
Abbey sat down on the stone wall. During her time here at the palace, Duvessa had come to like Abbey very much, and to respect the talents of the kindly partial adept. As she looked at her now, she could see that the herbmistress was concerned.
"What is it?" Duvessa asked. She immediately thought of Traax.
"Has there been word from Tyranny?"
Abbey shook her head. "Not that I know of," she answered. "Faegan wishes to see you, me, and Adrian in the Redoubt. He told me that it is important." She gave Duvessa a short smile. "I'm afraid your breakfast will have to wait."
Duvessa stood. After a last look at the phalanxes-in-training, the two women began the walk back. As Faegan sat waiting in the cubiculum of humanistic research, he was overcome by several separate but equally compelling emotions. The first was an overwhelming sense of sorrow over Geldon's death. The dwarf's body, preserved by the craft, still lay on the examination table under the black sheet. The necropsy that Faegan had performed had been painstaking. More than once the wizard had been forced to stop what he was doing, wipe away his tears, and force himself to continue.
Another emotion stirring within him was pure, unadulterated wonder. The necropsy had revealed a great deal about the nature of Geldon's death. He knew he had to share what he'd learned with those Conclave members who remained at the palace. As an experienced herbmistress, Abbey's counsel might be particularly helpful.
A third emotion had crept in as his examination progressed. It was a deep sense of anger directed toward whoever had done this to his friend. He still did not know why his friend had been killed, but he meant to find out.
When the three women filed into the room, they could all sense Faegan's outrage. The wizard was without question the greatest living scholar of the craft, and they knew him for his kindness of heart. But this seemed to be a different Faegan. This Faegan wanted revenge, and he clearly meant to have it.
"Please forgive the hour," he said. "I know it is very early. What I have to tell you simply couldn't wait."
Faegan beckoned Duvessa, Adrian, and Abbey to sit at a nearby table. He wheeled his chair over to join them.
Several texts and scrolls lay there. Two other tools of the craft sat next to them. One of them was a blood criterion, used for measuring the quality of endowed blood. The other was a signature scope. Its purpose was to identify the lean of a blood signature. When the women were seated, Faegan placed his gnarled hands flat upon the tabletop.
"I know what killed Geldon," he said.
"You mean why he committed suicide?" Abbey offered.
"No," Faegan answered flatly. "I mean what killed him. Geldon was murdered."
"How can that be?" Duvessa asked. "Several dozen Minion warriors saw him plunge the knife into his own eye. Surely you don't think they are lying?"
"No, no, of course not." Faegan shook his head. "Geldon used the knife, all right. But he was compelled to do it. As I suspected, the craft is afoot here. This particular use of magic is one of the most devious and clever that I have ever seen. So clever, in fact, that I nearly missed it."
"What are you talking about?" Adrian asked.
"When faced with such a difficult problem, it is always best to start with what one knows," Faegan answered. "Geldon was of unendowed blood. Despite all of the problems we are wrestling with, he seemed to be happy. He was one of the most resilient men I ever knew. He had to be, to survive as long as he did in the clutches of the Coven. Suicide was simply not in his nature."
He took up a parchment and laid it flat. The paper held an unidentified blood signature.
"Despite the fact that he was unendowed, this showed up in his blood," he said. "He acquired it just before he died. When I first saw it, I couldn't believe my eyes."
Abbey picked up the parchment. The blood signature was "complete," meaning that it showed evidence of both the mother and the father. Therefore, whoever had possessed this signature was of fully endowed blood. She placed the parchment back on the table.
"I mean no disrespect, but what you are saying is quite impossible," she argued. "Blood simply cannot be changed from unendowed to endowed."
"It wasn't," Faegan answered. "But that does not mean it cannot carry the signature of another for a time, if they are mixed somehow. Take a look at this list of foreign matter I found in Geldon's blood." He unrolled another parchment and handed it to her.
"Please read it aloud," he asked.
Abbey looked down the page. "This list shows human brain matter, human yellow bone marrow, human red bone marrow, derma-gnasher venom, root of gingercrinkle, and oil of encumbrance. There are also a few other trace elements mentioned here." With a puzzled expression, she looked back up at Faegan.
"How on earth did he manage to get all of these ingredients into his bloodstream?" she asked. "I have never come across such an unusual concoction in all my life."
"He didn't put them there," Faegan answered. "Someone else did. Geldon was poisoned. I don't have quite all of the pieces to the puzzle yet, but I'm close."
"But what makes you think he was poisoned?" Duvessa countered.
"After all, they were a long way from home. Isn't it possible that through some quirk of fate he ingested these things naturally?"
Adrian shook her head. "Gingercrinkle, perhaps," she said. "And even the oil of encumbrance. But human brain? Bone marrow? Impossible." The First Sister of the acolytes looked at Faegan.
"It was the derma-gnasher attack, wasn't it?" she asked. "It had to be. He consumed what the others did. These things couldn't have been in the food or drink, or they would all be dead. And the derma-gnasher puncture was the only insult to his body-other than the damaged eye, of course."
Faegan nodded. "Well done," he said. "When I did the necropsy, you may remember that I took a crosssection of tissue from the area surrounding the bite mark. The ingredients listed on the parchment were found in far higher concentration there than anywhere else in his body. The bite was therefore the poison's point of entry."
"So what does all this mean?" Abbey asked. "That we have a swarm of infected derma-gnashers infesting Eutracia? With everything else that is going on, I cannot believe that Geldon's death was so random an act."
"Nor do I," Faegan agreed. "This is what I think happened. I believe this potion was concocted by someone of the craft. The blood signature that appeared in Geldon's blood was obviously not his, as his blood was not endowed. Given the bite on his neck, the derma-gnasher venom was to be expected. I still don't know what the actual delivery system was. It may have been an enchanted derma-gnasher, trained to do its master's bidding. Or it could have been something else entirely-like a blow dart, for instance, disguised with the venom to throw us off. But coming that close to a Minion camp unseen would take skills of the highest order." The ancient wizard paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts.