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"Now that I have your full attention, let's try again, shall we?" he asked quietly. "What is the name of your family house?"

Lowering his face slightly, Marcus scowled and placed his greasy hands on his lap. "Stinton," he finally answered. "The House of Stinton."

"And where are you from?"

"Ilendium."

Wigg raised an eyebrow. "And the girl you travel with. She's your sister, is she not?"

Marcus nodded. "Rebecca." He added softly, "I call her 'Becca."

"I see," Wigg said a bit more compassionately. "And your parents. What of them? They must be worried about you."

"They're both dead. Killed by the great birds that came one night. 'Becca and I are orphans."

On hearing about the "great birds," Wigg looked at Tristan and Faegan. They nodded back. Marcus had to be referring to Nicholas' hatchlings, the winged beings that had so ruthlessly destroyed the city of Ilendium just before the construction of the Gates of Dawn.

"I'm sorry," Faegan said softly from the other side of the table. He was beginning to have genuine admiration for the brash young man, even if the boy was a thief. Master Stinton was nothing if not resourceful, he decided.

"How was it that the two of you were not also killed?" Faegan asked.

" 'Becca and I had gone fishing at the head of the Sippora River. We used to like to do that sometimes. And it was helpful, especially when father wasn't doing so well. But the fishing had been good, and we were very late getting home that night. By the time we did, everything was gone."

"I'm sorry, too," Wigg said earnestly. "But what did you mean about your father not doing so well? What was his trade?"

Marcus smiled again and puffed out his chest with pride. "My father was a pickpocket-the best in Eutracia. He could slip one hand into your drawers and come back out holding your private parts if he chose to, long before you felt the draft. And I'm just as good, if I do say so myself."

Sighing, Wigg placed one hand over his forehead, closed his eyes, and leaned his elbow on the table. He shook his head slowly.

Tristan tried hard not to smile.

"And where did you get the scroll?" Wigg asked without looking up.

"We found them in one of the broken marble sections, left over from the destruction when those monuments, or whatever they were, fell to the ground," Marcus answered simply. It was clear he did not understand the importance of the site he and his sister had visited.

"Everything there stayed so hot, it took a week before 'Becca and I could do a proper search of the place," he went on. "We were on our own by then, and looking for food." Then he smiled again. "But that wasn't what we found."

Wigg's face shot up. "You said 'them'. Do you mean to say that both scrolls were there when you first went in?"

"Yes. But they were so heavy I could only take one. And there was no way 'Becca could handle the other, especially with her bad foot. Later I came back for the other scroll, but it was already gone. Somebody beat me to it."

"How did you get the scroll to Tammerland?" Tristan asked.

"In the rowboat we always used to fish out of. It was my father's. On the way down the Sippora we fished, so as to eat. Kept us alive."

"And was it always your intention to sell the scroll?" Tristan asked, his admiration for Marcus also growing.

"Of course. What would I want to keep the damned thing for?"

Tristan smiled. "And how did you find the artifacts dealer?"

"I asked around. It wasn't hard. I had an appointment with him today, to finally exchange the scroll for the kisa. He was the only one I trusted. But he won't be doing any more business, will he? From that point on, you know the rest." Then Marcus' face darkened. "I'm sorry about your horse," he added.

"Thank you," Tristan replied. "So am I."

Wigg had apparently heard all he needed. He stood and walked over to one side of the kitchens, to give a tug on a velvet pull cord. In a few moments, a Minion warrior appeared.

"Take this young man to the princess' quarters so that he may rejoin his sister," Wigg ordered. "See to it that he is cleaned up and given some decent clothes. I want one of you to keep an eye on him and his sister at all times. They seem to have an unusually high predilection for larceny."

The warrior clicked his heels together. "As you wish."

Wide-eyed at his first glimpse of a Minion, Marcus was slow to rise from the table. Before leaving, he turned around and looked back at Wigg.

"I'll make a deal with you," he said.

Sighing, Wigg shook his head again. "I am the lead wizard of the Directorate," he answered. "And I am not in the habit of dealing with pickpockets. Especially young ones."

"Can you cure 'Becca's clubfoot?" Marcus asked. "For as long as I can remember, it has been her dream to come into your Chamber of Supplication and request an audience for your help. If you cure her, I'll even let you keep the bags of kisa."

"As I remember, you no longer have the money," Wigg answered. "It rests with us now. But leave it to you to bargain with something you don't have. However, I did notice Rebecca's foot. If it is within our powers to help, we will. But right now I want you to go, Marcus. We have urgent business to attend to." Wigg then nodded to the Minion, and Marcus was escorted from the room.

"I'm assuming our urgent business is now with Grizelda," Faegan said.

"Indeed," Wigg answered. "And it should prove most interesting."

The three of them stood from the table and headed for the Redoubt.

O n the way Tristan requested that they go by the Great Hall, the room into which Faegan's warp and Krassus' destructive beams of light had been tossed. He was very curious about how much damage had been done. As they approached the room and walked in, the sight before them was disheartening, to say the least.

Krassus' powerful light shards had caused the walls to crack and tumble in many places, and the ceiling was torn by a number of great, ragged holes through which the encroaching night sky could be seen. Glass, dust, and smashed furniture lay everywhere. A work party of male and female Minions was already going about the business of trying to return the room to its former glory, but that would take time, Tristan realized, if it ever came about at all.

Wigg walked slowly through the rubble, bits of glass crunching beneath his boots. With a great sigh, he shook his head and turned back to Faegan and the prince.

"Such a shame," he said. "But at the time it was all I could think of to contain the lights. Even then I had no way of knowing whether Krassus' enchantments might take the entire palace down. In a way, we were very lucky."

"The power behind his spell was great indeed," Faegan added thoughtfully. "And very cleverly wrought. Your solution worked. Had the shards impacted anything softer than stone, the results would have been catastrophic." After a last look around, the three of them finally proceeded to the Redoubt.

As they came to stand before the doors, Faegan called the craft and unlocked them. Inside, Grizelda was still trapped within the azure wizard's warp. When she saw them enter, her lips turned up into a sneer.

Tristan looked at the herbmistress. She had changed little since that day on Krassus' flagship. He took in the long, dry, gray hair that hung haphazardly down around her weather-beaten face; her long, hooked nose; and the tattered, dirty brown robe wrapped around the gaunt body. She glared back at the prince with venom in her eyes.

"Good evening," Tristan said politely. "I hope you find the accommodations to your liking. At least here we don't force anyone to row. But should you prove uncooperative, I'm sure something like it could be arranged."

"So you escaped after all." Grizelda sneered. "My compliments. But your capture of me won't do you any good, Chosen One. I will never give up the things you so desperately need to know. I have a new lord now, and I won't betray him. Your days are numbered, and are dwindling rapidly. Soon I shall be free again, and you are in wizards' warps." To emphasize her point, she spat wetly against the inside of her cage.