“We considered that,” Faegan said. “But there were too many ways for what you suggest to go wrong, and we couldn’t take any more chances than were absolutely necessary. First of all, we did not know what the use of Shailiha’s Forestallment upon the Minions might bring about, and we desperately needed their services to stave off the hatchling legions. Added to that is the fact that you are the Minions’ lord, and this entire plan had to be done without your knowledge. We felt that if we used the Minions for this purpose, they might not have accepted the fact that their lord remained uninformed, even tricked, if you will. Therefore, the Minions might have felt duty-bound to tell you of our scheme. That could have easily ruined everything.”
“You are quite right, wizard,” Traax said sternly from the other side of the room. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “Had we been told, we would have considered it our sworn duty to inform our lord.”
Tristan nodded, beginning to understand. “And so Shailiha had my hatchling leave the battle and fly to Shadowood, hoping that both the Minions and the hatchlings would follow.”
“Correct,” Wigg said. He raised his index finger for emphasis. “But we also knew that you must not leave the battle too early, nor too late. If done too soon, it might not have appeared as a full-fledged retreat, signaling the beginnings of the trap that it eventually turned out to be. And if done too late, there would not have been enough of your warriors left to be effective once you reached Shadowood. You were beginning to lose badly.”
“But I still do not understand why you did not inform me,” Tristan countered. “I could have led us there easily, without all of the subterfuge.”
“True,” Faegan answered. “But we did not know what plans Nicholas may have had for you. Remember, he was still hoping that you would join him in his cause. For all we knew at the time, he might even try to force you to do so. Had this been the case, and had Scrounge and his hatchlings been under orders to abduct you, all Nicholas would have had to do was test the quality of your heart to find his answer. We simply couldn’t risk that.”
“And so you had Shailiha order my bird to fly straight down into the canyon,” Tristan mused. He ran a hand through his dark hair, thinking. “You took a great risk, did you not? The canyon is invisible except to those trained to see it. Clearly, the Minions and the hatchlings were not. How did you know they would follow?”
Wigg smiled. “We didn’t. But we thought the odds were in our favor. We hoped the Minions would follow you into the canyon out of loyalty. Especially after they saw you disappear, rather than crash to your death into the earth. And as for the hatchlings, well, after they saw all the rest of you so mysteriously vanish, they no doubt believed you were escaping.”
“And the gnomes, with the Minions you had brought to Shadowood, trapped them with nets,” Tristan answered. “While the Minions that followed me were left free to hack them to pieces.” He smiled to himself. For as long as I live, the wizards will continue to impress me. Suddenly very tired from all of the talk, though, he laid his head down on the pillow.
“Are you all right?” Shailiha asked.
“Yes, Shai, I’ll be fine,” he answered. “But it’s going to take a while.” He looked back to Wigg. “Are the hatchlings all dead? The entire force?”
“Yes,” Traax answered proudly from the other side of the room. “Every single one. The birds and their leader will trouble us no more.”
Tristan uncoiled a little, glad to know that Scrounge was finally dead.
“Ox kill many bad birds,” the giant Minion said, interrupting Tristan’s thoughts. The great warrior stood to the side of the room with his chest puffed out proudly. “Ox enjoy that much.”
Tristan smiled at the two warriors who, despite their part in the pillaging of his nation, had impossibly become not only his servants, but also his trusted friends.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“But there is still a great deal more to tell, isn’t there?” Shailiha asked the wizards. As Traax had done, she crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that clearly said she would not be denied. “And I want to hear all of it, right now.” At the sight of her characteristically defiant posture, one corner of Tristan’s mouth came up impishly.
“The answers as to why the prince still lives, why his son Nicholas does not, and why the Gates of Dawn seemed to self-destruct are far more complicated,” Wigg began. “The best way to tell you all is to take you into yet another room.” He gestured to Traax and Ox. “If you please, help the prince to follow me.”
With that, Wigg narrowed his eyes. With his use of the craft, a hidden panel in the far wall began to turn on a pivot, revealing another room beyond.
Traax and Ox went to Tristan’s bed and helped him stand. With his arms over the shoulders of the two warriors, he managed to stumble into the room. Celeste and Shailiha followed.
It was very spacious, constructed of shiny, rose-colored marble. Its unusually high number of oil chandeliers gave it a bright, almost sterile look. A large table with many chairs sat in the center. An even larger table sat nearby, covered with books and scrolls.
Off to one side sat something large, covered by a sheet of cloth. There was another object, similarly covered but differently shaped, on a rather long but narrow table. And still another table lay nearby with nothing on it.
“What is under the sheets?” Tristan asked as Traax and Ox helped him down into one of the comfortable chairs.
“That question shall be answered later,” Wigg said once everyone was seated. “Now then, to answer your many other inquiries. First, to explain the death of Nicholas.” He paused for a moment, looking around the table. His aquamarine eyes finally landed on the prince.
“You killed Nicholas, Tristan,” he said softly. “You, Succiu, and Failee.”
“What are you talking about?” Tristan exclaimed, taken aback. “Succiu and Failee are dead. You burned their bodies yourself, in Parthalon.”
“Quite true,” Faegan said from the other end of the table. “A fact we are all certainly glad of. But please listen to what Wigg has to say.”
Wigg extended one hand toward the table covered with papers, and a scroll of parchment rose into the air and floated to his grasp. He unrolled it and held it up for Tristan’s inspection. “Do you recognize this?” he asked the prince.
Tristan looked down at it. “Of course,” he said. “It is Nicholas’ blood signature.”
“Correct,” Wigg answered. “Now I want you to run your fingers over the signature, and tell me if you feel anything unusual.”
Reaching out, Tristan drew the parchment to him. He placed the tips of his first two fingers on the azure signature and began tracing over it. He felt nothing other than the light scratchiness of the dried blood that one might expect to feel.
“I don’t feel anything,” he answered, withdrawing his hand.
“Precisely,” Wigg answered. “Now, please give me that same hand.”
Tristan did so. Wigg closed his eyes. Almost immediately their joined hands became bathed in the glow of the craft. Tristan felt a slight tingling, but it was not painful. Wigg opened his eyes, and the glow of the craft vanished. Tristan took back his hand.
“What did you just do?” he asked, puzzled.
“I have employed the craft to temporarily enhance the feeling in your fingertips.” The wizard smiled. “Now then, retrace them over the signature. Stop when you feel something unusual. And by the way,” he added, giving the prince a strange smile, “it might help if you close your eyes.”
Tristan placed his fingertips once more on the blood, closing his eyes. He began to retrace the path he had taken earlier.