"Only by flying in," he answered thickly. "But people can't fly. Only birds, insects, and your grotesque servants can fly." The smile came again.
"Tell me about the sandstone maze," she asked. "Do you know the way in and out?"
"Of course."
"The safe route is committed to your memory?"
"Yes."
Abbey nodded at Adrian. The acolyte walked to the desk and put down the basket she carried. She removed the writing items and set them before Uther. She opened the ink bottle and placed the quill into it. Then she unrolled the parchments and flattened them out. As though Adrian didn't exist, Uther gazed at nothing. Adrian returned to Abbey's side.
"Free his arms," Abbey ordered.
The warriors freed his arms but passed several coils around Uther's chest before reknotting the rope. Even so, the Valrenkian didn't move.
"There is now paper and ink before you," Abbey said.
Uther looked down dumbly at the items lying there. He nodded.
"Draw a map showing the safe way in and out of the stone maze," she said. "Leave nothing out. Do you understand?" Hoping against hope that he would comply, Abbey held her breath.
"Very well," Uther answered.
Numbly, he took up the quill and began to draw.
For Abbey and Adrian, the time passed with agonizing slowness. Trying to rid herself of nervous energy, Abbey walked to the other table and poured herself a glass of wine. They waited impatiently, listening to the scratching of Uther's quill. Finally he put it down and stared blankly into space once more.
"It is done," he said.
Abbey and Adrian walked to the table and stared down at the drawing. Sure enough, it was a map of the maze-complete with arrows pointing toward the passageways that would presumably lead one safely into the village. After blowing on the map to dry the ink, Abbey rolled it up and asked Uther, "How do I know that your map is valid?"
"I would stake my life on it."
For the first time since entering the room, Abbey smiled. "That's not a bad idea," she mused. She turned to the guards.
"Go and find Ottikar. I want him and an entire phalanx of armed warriors ready to depart at once." She pointed to Uther. "And bring the captive along. I have something special in mind for him."
The warrior nearest them snapped his heels together and untied the prisoner. As the two women walked to the door, Adrian asked Abbey, "You're bringing Uther with us? True, my spell still affects him, but I thought you told me that your potion wouldn't last very long."
Abbey gave her a wink. "Unless I miss my guess," she said, "it won't have to. In fact, I'm counting on it."
More confused than ever, Adrian followed Abbey down the hall.
CHAPTER LII
As Vivian approached the far end of the palace courtyard, she nodded to the warriors guarding the drawbridge. Even though she was in a hurry, she kept her pace slow and deliberate. The warriors smiled and snapped to attention as she walked by.
Pulling the hood of her red cloak up over her head, she exited the grounds and wended her way down one of Tammerland's busier streets. Only when she knew she was out of sight of the palace did she change direction and pick up her pace.
This time she would have both good and bad news for Bratach. He would be pleased to hear that Lionel the Little was dead, but Satine's identity had been revealed, and Vivian could see no end to the trouble this news might bring. Who could have imagined that one of the Valrenkians would be captured and interrogated? Silently cursing, she hurried on.
It was now late afternoon, the sun just low enough to play hide-and-seek among the higher rooftops. Shafts of fading sunlight sliced down into the alleyways, and the air felt warm and humid. Some of the food vendors were busily closing up their carts as they stopped work for the day. Little by little, enticing aromas faded from the air.
But for each cart that departed, a tavern lamplight came alive, signaling the change of venue for the pleasure-seekers who frequented this part of town. Soon the mood in the streets would turn even more drunken and dangerous, she knew.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for hours. She stopped to buy a bag of freshly boiled peanuts from a crippled, blind vendor about to close up his cart. Two blocks later, her fingers covered with oil and her belly quieting, she found herself reminiscing about how she had met Wulfgar. Even though their meeting had been brief, she had immediately become his-heart, mind, and soul.
Like the other women of her kind, she had been silently called to the Redoubt through a process of the craft known as the River of Thought. At that time the wizards, the Jin'Sai, and the Jin'Saiou had been locked in mortal conflict with Wulfgar and his forces. Like the other women of her sisterhood she had immediately felt the River's irresistible call, telling her to end her current duties and make her way to Tammerland. The women had been ordered to gather in the Hall of Supplication. Wigg and Faegan were already there, waiting for them. After showing the wizards the tattoo of the Paragon on her shoulder, each sister was asked to perform some small act of the craft. Next, their blood signatures were compared to those in the palace records and examined for any evidence of Forestallments or other tampering. Only then did Wigg induct them all into the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt. Finally they were shown their new home-the magnificent secret hallways and chambers lying deep below the palace.
Vivian had been overjoyed. To gather with her sisters to study and practice the craft had long been her greatest dream. But then Wulfgar had come to her. He had introduced her to a totally different dream-one for which she would willingly discard her previous vows. Suddenly, the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt had become the object of her undying hatred, something that she would now do anything in her power to destroy.
The meeting between Vivian and Wulfgar had occurred on the night Wulfgar's demonslavers attacked the palace. The royal residence was in turmoil, and those Minion warriors remaining were clearly losing the fight. Tristan, Shailiha, Wigg, Abbey, and the bulk of the warrior forces were away, trying to hold off Wulfgar's fleet. Of those able to wield the craft, only Faegan, Celeste, and the acolytes remained behind.
Frantic to help, Vivian and the other sisters had left the Redoubt to go to the aid of the warriors. Vivian had been hurrying toward the door of her chambers when it suddenly opened of its own accord. Strangely, no one stood on the other side. Shaking her head in confusion, she started to leave. That was when Wulfgar materialized before her. The magnificent Scroll of the Vigors also appeared, hovering gently by his side.
On trembling legs she retreated into the room, almost falling as she stumbled against a nearby chair. The imposing man walked purposefully into the room, the Scroll following him. Without looking back, he caused the door to close. Then Vivian heard the lock turn over, telling her that she was his prisoner.
She had no idea whether the man before her was friend or foe. He was tall, with long, sand-colored hair and commanding hazel eyes. She tentatively decided that, since he had access to the Redoubt and was obviously in possession of the Scroll, he must be some unknown ally of the wizards. She couldn't have been more wrong.
The man smiled at her. His mesmerizing gaze seemed to look right into her soul.
"Who…who are you?" she asked.
The man clasped his hands together. "I am Wulfgar," he answered. "I am your new lord."
At the mention of his name, Vivian's blood ran cold. The enemy of the Vigors that everyone was trying to vanquish stood here, in her personal chambers! But why?
Stunned, she took another step back. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Finally, she found her tongue.