Still taking in the grandeur of her surroundings, Adrian was startled when the lead wizard called out her name.
"Adrian of the House of Brandywyne, please approach."
Standing, Adrian took a deep breath and ran her palms down her robe, smoothing it out. Then she walked to the table and looked down at the lead wizard. Not knowing what else to do, she gave him a slight curtsy. The lead wizard smiled.
"Please sit down," he said. "And do not be afraid, my child. No harm will come to you here, I promise."
Adrian took a seat in the high-backed, upholstered chair across the table from the lead wizard.
Rifling through the pile of parchments, Wigg finally pulled one out and placed it before him. After examining it, he looked back up at Adrian and smiled.
"Welcome, my dear. I knew your father. He was one of the best of the consuls."
Was, she thought. The single, harsh word went straight through her heart. "Begging your pardon, Lead Wizard, but do you mean to say that-"
"Forgive me, Adrian," Wigg interjected quickly. "I do not mean to imply that your father has died. In truth, we do not know. But more of that later. Now then, how many years have passed since you graduated from Fledgling House?"
Somewhat relieved, Adrian let go the deep breath she had been unconsciously holding. "Nine," she answered.
"That would make you one of the first class to do so, would it not?"
"Yes."
"Have you married?"
"No, Lead Wizard."
"Do you have children?"
"No."
"Please show us your tattoo, if you would."
With a nod, Adrian slipped her left arm from the sleeve of her robe and lifted it to show Wigg the Paragon on her shoulder, just as the other acolytes before her had done. After the lead wizard nodded, she placed her arm back into the robe.
"And now, please demonstrate some small use of the craft," Wigg asked her. "If the azure glow appears, that is permissible. But as a test of your talents, please try not to produce it."
Adrian looked around the room. Seeing the cold fireplace along one wall, she raised her arm and spread her fingers. The logs immediately jumped ablaze. No azure glow was evident. She closed her fist, and the fire went dead. She turned back to the lead wizard just in time to see one of his eyebrows arch up thoughtfully.
"Well done," he said. Beside him, Faegan smiled and stroked his blue cat.
"Please extend one wrist," Wigg said, placing a blank piece of parchment on the table.
Adrian did so. Wigg caused a small, painless incision to form in her skin, and a single drop of her blood fell onto the parchment. Almost immediately the droplet began to writhe its way into her familiar blood signature. For some time the two mystics compared it to the document Wigg had pulled from the pile. Finally, the lead wizard nodded his approval.
Reaching out, he pulled the odd-looking device toward him. It seemed to be a tripod, with a glass lens mounted at its top. Placing it directly over Adrian's blood signature, he looked down through the lens. After a few moments he nodded again, and passed the entire affair over to Faegan, who went through the same process. When the crippled wizard nodded, Wigg looked up at her and smiled.
"Welcome, Adrian," he said to her. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Were your father here, he would be very proud. As one of the first class to graduate Fledgling House, your senior status will be very much appreciated. Please take a seat with the others of your sisterhood."
With a nod, Adrian walked to the side of the table and joined those upon whom the two wizards had already passed judgment.
It took close to two hours for Wigg and Faegan to interview the remaining women. In the end, all were accepted.
Then Wigg stood and spoke to them as a group. He told them a brief history of the return of the Coven of sorceresses, the destruction of the Gates of Dawn, and how and why he had summoned them here. Prince Tristan had wished to greet them personally, Wigg said, but was on urgent business elsewhere. He also told them not to fear the menacing-looking Minions of Day and Night, whom they would soon see in and about the palace.
When he had finished, Wigg placed each hand into the opposite sleeve of his robe. His aquamarine eyes seemed to see right into the hearts of the assembled women.
"From this day forward, you are no longer to be known as the acolytes of Fledgling House," he said solemnly. "You are now the acolytes of the Redoubt, and your place is here, with us. You are hereby accorded all the rights and responsibilities associated with your new positions. As more of your sisterhood arrive, they will be examined as you have been. If they are found to be true acolytes, their blood also unpolluted by the Vagaries, they too will be blended into the fold." Then the lead wizard smiled.
"Welcome, ladies," he said with obvious feeling. "This moment has been too long in coming. It is truly a historic day."
CHAPTER
Sixty-eight
A s Tristan paced back and forth across the deck of his flagship, his mind was overcome with concerns both new and old. The scout ships had gone farther east into the Sea of Whispers days earlier, but still their patrolling warriors had little to tell. There was nothing to see but water, they kept on reporting as they tiredly returned to their vessels.
Have I ordered us all out here for nothing? he found himself wondering. Had the herbmistress Grizelda lied to them, simply to throw them off track? And if she had, then where was Wulfgar? Were Wigg and Faegan even correct in their assumption that his bastard brother was out to destroy the Orb of the Vigors?
The prince had gone to join the fleet as soon as he had learned that two of his warriors had gone missing. Although their disappearances proved nothing, he could sense that Wulfgar was out there somewhere. Soon, very soon now, things would come to a head.
It felt good to be at sea again. His newly acquired love of sailing was truly a part of him now-a part he hoped he would never have to give up completely. As the brisk westerlies moved through his hair, he casually grasped a line of rigging and leaned against the gunwale, his mind lost in thought.
Wigg, Shailiha, Traax, Abbey, and the warrior K'jarr were all here aboard the Savage Scar with him. Two days had passed since Wigg had accepted the acolytes into the Redoubt. Geldon had been left in charge, to greet any others of the sisterhood who might also make their way to the palace. Shawna the Short and a Minion warrior continued to watch over Marcus, Rebecca, and Morganna, while Ox and the remainder of the Minion forces had also been left behind as a palace guard. Faegan and Celeste, too, remained at the palace, in case their gifts were needed to protect the Scroll of the Vigors. These measures gave Tristan a modicum of comfort. But as he continued to look out over the deep blue sea, the prince was both anxious and worried.
Traax came to stand next to Tristan. The Minion second in command laced his fingers and leaned his muscular forearms on the gunwale. As the Savage Scar cut through the waves, for several long moments neither of them spoke.
"Where in the name of the Afterlife are they?" Tristan finally breathed, his gaze still locked on the waves. "Are Wulfgar and his fleet of slavers really on the way, or is this all just some kind of elaborate ruse designed to draw the bulk of our forces away from the palace? Could they have already gotten by us?"
Looking for answers, he finally turned and searched the warrior's face. He valued Traax's opinion greatly, and he needed to know his thoughts.
"I do not know, my lord," Traax answered solemnly. "All I can say is that if the roles had been reversed, I would be doing exactly what you are now. Only time will tell. As Wigg said, we have no choice but to believe what the dead herbmistress told us, because it is far too dangerous not to."