"Hello, Abbey," the man said gently. "It's been a long time. Please pardon my intrusion, but I very much need your help."
Abbey, her eyes locked on his face, staggered toward a chair and sat down clumsily. It was difficult for her to speak, to think, or even to breathe as a flood of conflicting emotions coursed through her.
Wigg waited, maintaining an outward calm. But inside, he, too, was bubbling with unexpected emotions. But as he watched, her expression changed from one of astonishment to anger.
Finally Abbey pointed to the woman in the bed. "Who is she?" she asked. She was chagrined to hear her voice crack. "After all these years, why are you here?"
At first Wigg did not answer. He pointed to the basket and the plants lying on the stone floor. The scattered clippings rose into the air and floated over to the basket, where they fell into a neat, contained pile. The refilled basket floated up to the table beside the stunned herbmistress and came to rest. Wigg took another long breath, letting it go slowly before placing his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe.
"Her name is Celeste," he answered softly. "She is of endowed blood, and has been adversely affected by the craft. In all my years I have seen this phenomenon occur only one other time-quite recently, in fact-to another woman who means just as much to me. The other woman, however, managed its effects much more handily. I cannot be sure, but I think it was because of the greater strength of her blood. In any event, this woman needs our help. I have been unable to awaken her by myself, and I fear that if she does not return to consciousness soon, I may lose her for all time. Will you help me?" The wizard's eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
Abbey stood and walked to the bed. First she looked into each of Celeste's eyes; then she cautiously examined her strangely scorched fingertips.
"Her mind has gone deep. For the moment she is stable," the herbmistress told Wigg cautiously, "but she is in a bad way. Although I am not sure how much help I can be, I will do what I can. But hear this first, Lead Wizard." Her gray eyes bored directly into Wigg's. "What I do, I do for her, and her alone. Not for you."
"Thank you," Wigg said gratefully. "And I cannot blame you for the way you feel." Silence reigned for a moment.
"First I want to know who she is," Abbey said. She wanted to prepare a tea, but the fire had gone down. She walked to the hearth and bent over to stoke the flames. But before she could, Wigg pointed, and the logs blazed again. Then two more from the nearby pile rose into the air and floated over to fall upon the ones already burning.
Abbey sighed. "I had almost forgotten how much easier life can be for certain trained males," she commented as she began to prepare some tea. One corner of Wigg's mouth came up: He could hardly disagree.
"I asked you a question," she added without turning around. "Who is she?"
"She is my daughter," the lead wizard answered softly, knowing the effect his words would have.
For several long moments Abbey stopped what she was doing. "So you finally remarried," she said softly, once more busying herself with the teakettle. Wigg thought he heard her voice crack again.
"No," he answered gently. "Failee was apparently pregnant when she left me. Celeste was protected by time enchantments and is nearly as old as you and I." He paused. "A great many things have transpired in our land since we were last together. Much of which, I'm sure, you remain unaware of. It would be a very long story."
Abbey, her face emotionless, placed two cups of tea on the table and took a seat. She beckoned Wigg to join her. "You and I are each blessed with the enchantments granting eternal life," she said flatly. "I think we can spare the time."
Wigg's mouth came up into a short smile.
As succinctly as he could, the lead wizard told her of the workings of the Paragon. He also described the Tome and its several volumes. After explaining the importance of Tristan and Shailiha, he then told her of the unexpected return of the Sorceresses of the Coven, and how he and Tristan had ventured across the Sea of Whispers to defeat them in the previously unknown land of Parthalon. He told her everything: the story of Nicholas, Ragnar, and Celeste, and the destruction of the Gates of Dawn.
Abbey listened intently, searching for any scrap of information that might help her unravel the secret to helping Wigg's stricken daughter. He explained the recent discovery of the Forestallments in the blood signatures of Shailiha, baby Morganna, Tristan, and Celeste. These spells took the form of crooked branches leading away from the main pattern of the blood signature, and had apparently been placed into their blood by the Coven-for what purposes Wigg and Faegan could only guess and would likely never know. It had been such a Forestallment that had resulted in Shailiha's highly unusual ability to commune with the fliers of the field. And the Forestallment he had unwittingly helped activate in Celeste had enabled her to save their lives by killing the saber-toothed bear.
At the mention of Celeste's Forestallment, Abbey's eyes lit up. She stood and walked quickly back to the bed. Lifting Celeste's hands, she again examined her blackened fingertips and broken nails.
"You say the bolt she sent against the bear-this 'Forestallment,' as you call it-was unusually strong?" she asked. "And that it happened just after she began to convulse?"
"Yes," Wigg answered. "Her bolts were the most powerful I have ever seen; they literally ripped the creature apart. Then she collapsed. And now…" He paused, one eyebrow rising, "I think I know why."
"Explain," Abbey said, returning to the table.
"You just said it yourself," he replied. "Her first use of a Forestallment came quickly, immediately after its activation, so her blood had no time to adjust to its new state. No doubt it was Failee's intention to activate Celeste's gifts one by one, and train her in their use gradually, in a controlled environment. But given the desperate situation, Celeste acted instinctively. This proved to be too much for her untrained blood, and plunged her into this deep, twilight state." He turned sadly, looking back over at the bed. "There is another wizard with me at the palace. His name is Faegan. He would have been able to help, for he is also an herbalist. But your cottage was much closer."
"And so you brought her here," Abbey answered skeptically. "But what were the two of you doing in these woods to begin with?"
"We were coming to see you about a different matter," Wigg said rather apologetically. "I was hoping, after all of these years, to gain your help. Eutracia needs you."
Abbey shook her head slowly. "It seems you suddenly require a great deal of help, Lead Wizard," she replied stiffly. The herbmistress thought for a moment. Then she leaned closer, her face dark.
"Tell me," she said sternly, "after more than three hundred years of surviving without my services, how is it that the lofty nation of Eutracia suddenly needs one of those who was so summarily banished?"
Trying to think of a way to broach the subject, Wigg looked around the unkempt cottage. Bottles lay overturned and shelves had been torn down; much of the glassware that should have contained Abbey's hard-won treasures was conspicuously empty. His eyes went back to the herbmistress. "I don't remember you being such a poor housekeeper," he said simply.
"What does that have to do with anything?" she shot back.
"This mess is not like you, and we both know it," Wigg said gently. And then he took a breath and asked, "He was here, wasn't he? The man in the two-colored robe. And he had a woman with him-a partial adept, possibly trained both as an herbmistress and a blaze-gazer. They took much from you, didn't they? Not the least of which was a sizable portion of your rather infamous pride."
The herbmistress' hard shell seemed to crack a bit, and a tear came to one eye. Taking a chance, Wigg placed one of his hands over hers. Surprisingly, she did not pull away.