He had not personally created the giant butterflies, for they had become endowed more than three centuries earlier, due to their accidental consumption of the waters of the Caves of the Paragon. But it was he who was responsible for the amazing attribute that set them apart from all the other creatures of the world, save man himself. For these butterflies were able to communicate with humans.
One of the first things Faegan had done upon arriving at the Redoubt was to construct an aviary for his winged treasures. He had spent several days conjuring it from one of the larger rooms. The chamber in which he now sat was over three stories tall, made from light blue marble, and lit by numerous glowing oil lamps. A balcony provided a wonderful view of the entire space.
Inlaid into the floor of the room were two very large, black marble circles. One contained the letters of the Eutracian alphabet, fashioned in white. The other contained the numbers one through ten, all fashioned in red. Recently Faegan had been busy trying to teach the butterflies the basics of the Eutracian numerical system. Wigg had originally been rather critical of the elder wizard spending so much of his time in this manner, but he had finally relented when Faegan had explained.
We may have great need of these friendly, beautiful creatures, the master wizard had said. And perhaps much sooner than we would like to think.
So far Geldon had been their only link to the outside world. They had briefly considered sending one or more of the gnomes out into the city to collect information, but they were afraid that would only invite undue attention, since none of their kind had been seen in this part of Eutracia for over three centuries. Therefore it was Faegan’s plan to eventually use the butterflies, who could fly unseen—at least at night—and reach places the gnomes and Geldon could not. Using the two wheels in the floor, they could then report their findings.
He laid his violin gently down on his lap. Then he raised a hand, and a particularly beautiful flier of violet and yellow came to rest upon his forearm. It remained there calmly, slowly opening and closing its great, elegant wings. They sat there, man and butterfly, regarding each other.
Faegan knew of Wigg’s impending presence long before he saw him. Wigg approached slowly, coming to stand next to the elder wizard’s chair. He admired the fliers as they soared about the room.
“And how does it progress?” he asked.
“They are coming along well, but are still not yet ready,” he replied. “I fear they still need more time than we may have, especially since we are unsure of the dangers that seem to be gathering against us.”
Wigg leaned his long, lanky frame against the balcony rail. “Do you have any more thoughts about Joshua’s flying creatures?” he asked hopefully. “I have been endlessly scouring the libraries here for a clue, but I have not yet found anything to enlighten us. Other than the fact that they are of the Vagaries, they remain a complete mystery.”
Faegan scowled. He had not been able to produce more insight into the situation other than his initial, cryptic quotation from the Tome. He slammed his free hand hard on the arm of his chair in frustration. Startled, the yellow-and-violet flier flew away. “You realize, Wigg, that we are looking in the wrong places,” he said. “If we truly wish to solve this riddle, there is another, far more valuable source where we must seek the answer. Perhaps when Geldon returns, he can tell us it is safe enough to venture out.”
“Yes,” Wigg said sadly, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “Perhaps.”
Each knew what the other was not saying: that the truth of whatever was behind both Joshua’s birds of prey and the mysterious disappearance of the consuls could most probably only be found in the Tome, somewhere within the volume of the Prophecies—the only volume Faegan had not read. But the Tome was deep inside the Caves of the Paragon. Faegan sighed. The Caves might as well have been a thousand leagues away, for all the good they could do them right now.
“And how is Joshua?” he asked.
“He is better. Now that he is eating properly, his strength continues to improve. But despite my continued questioning, he has been able to add little to his original story. It appears that everything happened so fast, much of it is still just a blur to him. Perhaps it always will be.”
The two wizards remained quiet for a time, lost in their individual thoughts as they watched the fliers soar about the aviary.
At last Faegan decided to force himself free of his depression. Carefully placing the violin on the floor, he called on the craft and suddenly levitated his chair up and over the brass rail, joining the fliers. Laughing raucously, he whirled about the room, chasing the magnificent butterflies.
Wigg simply scowled. Placing his weight upon one foot, he folded his arms across his chest, shook his head, and arched his right eyebrow sarcastically. Despite his mastery of the craft, he can be such a child! he thought, irritated. There was a task they both needed to attend to, and now was not the time to be frolicking with butterflies.
“You really must try this!” Faegan exclaimed as the giant butterflies careened and swooped about him. “Come on, Wigg!” he shouted. “Don’t be such an old curmudgeon!”
Smiling widely, the wizard in the chair soared to the brass rail directly before Wigg and hovered there. Two brightly colored fliers came to land, one upon each of Faegan’s shoulders. As far as Wigg was concerned, it only made the entire situation more ridiculous: Faegan looked more like some bizarre vendor at a Eutracian province fair than the most powerful wizard in the world.
“You take life far too seriously!” Faegan exclaimed, grinning at the imperious lead wizard from the other side of the rail. He pursed his lips, thinking. Then he smiled.
“I can make you participate, you know,” he added cryptically. “I’m more powerful than you are.”
Wigg narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!”
That was all Faegan needed to hear. Narrowing his eyes, he caused Wigg to levitate. Wigg struggled to fight it, but it was no use. Faegan’s gift was too strong. He took Wigg higher, over the rail, to join him and the fliers in the aviary.
Faegan promptly turned Wigg upside down, so that his robes fell over his face, blinding him, and revealing bare legs that kicked futilely at the air. Faegan snickered like a schoolboy who had just dipped an unsuspecting girl’s braid into the inkwell. Or worse.
“Put me down, you fool!” Wigg shouted from within the folds of his robes, arms waving wildly.
Faegan smiled. “Say please,” he shouted back.
“Never!”
“Suit yourself,” Faegan answered happily. Leaving Wigg alone in his distress, he resumed soaring about the massive room in his chair.
“She awaits us!” Wigg finally shouted, his voice oddly muffled by his robes. “Or have you forgotten, most powerful one?” he added sarcastically.
“Yes, very well,” Faegan answered, turning his chair away from the butterflies. Waving his arm, he righted Wigg, whose face was more red from anger than from his time spent upside down. They both floated back to the balcony.
“Do you have some water from the Well of the Redoubt?” Faegan asked, his mood having turned serious again.
Still angry, Wigg gave him a nod. Saying nothing more, Faegan retrieved his violin and wheeled his chair out of the chamber and into the adjoining hall, acting for all the world as if he thought Wigg had nothing better to do than follow him wherever he went.
Wigg let out an exasperated sigh. With a thought, he commanded the doors to the aviary to close silently behind him as he followed his eccentric but benevolent tormentor.