Leaning forward, Wulfgar smiled. "Sometimes less is more, wouldn't you agree?" he asked Faegan. Eyes glazed over, the crippled wizard tried to lift his head, but couldn't.
"I will… never tell… you," he said thickly. "No matter what you do… to me."
"As you wish," Wulfgar answered casually. The Enseterat narrowed his eyes, and the serrated edge of the knife moved closer to Faegan's calf.
Then it began to slowly scrape its way down along the raw, exposed flesh and nerves of Faegan's leg.
Faegan screamed. His eyes bulged and the cords in his neck knotted, standing out in sharp relief. Then the blade stopped about halfway down, and Wulfgar pursed his lips. Crying and babbling incoherently, Faegan's head slumped forward onto his chest.
Wulfgar sighed. "I may have to enter your mind after all," he said casually. "Even though that was not my first choice. I now ask you for the last time: Where is the scroll?"
Slowly opening his eyes, all Faegan saw was a blur sitting across from him. Blinking hard, he desperately tried to get his mind working again. He had been holding out for as long as he could. But he feared that if he rebelled much longer, Wulfgar would walk through his mind, trying to discover the location of the scroll. And if that happened now, weak as Faegan had become with the torture, all of their planning would be for naught. For then the bastard brother of the Chosen Ones would possess a secret far more precious than even the Scroll of the Vigors. The secret that he, Wigg, and Abbey had discovered and wished to keep hidden no matter the cost.
He would do his best to endure one more use of the azure knife, he thought drunkenly. And then he would give Wulfgar the scroll. That was what Wigg and Abbey would want-to sacrifice the scroll in order to keep the secret.
Raising his head, Faegan did his best to look into Wulfgar's eyes.
"No," he said bluntly. "Do your worst." Gathering up all of the saliva he could muster, he spat it directly into Wulfgar's face.
Calmly wiping away the spittle, Wulfgar gave Faegan a menacing smile.
"As you wish," the Enseterat said softly.
Narrowing his eyes, Wulfgar caused the knife blade to press up against Faegan's right leg, and the crippled wizard cried out insanely. As the blade made its slow, torturous way down, waves of hot, searing pain shot through his nervous system. The wizard knew that if the torture continued, he would be only a few heartbeats away from death. That was when he finally allowed himself to beg.
"Please," he sobbed. His voice was little more than a whisper. "I'll tell you… just don't do that any more… I beg of you…"
The knife stopped and moved over to one side. Wulfgar smiled. "That's more like it," he said quietly. Leaning forward, he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm waiting," he whispered.
"The far wall," Faegan answered. "At the end of the bookcase… The three variegated swirls in the marble… Touch them all at once…"
Wulfgar stood and walked to the wall. He reached up with his right hand and placed his first three fingers on the smooth, cool spots Faegan had described. As he did, the azure glow of the craft surrounded the area.
With a soft click, a section of the marble wall revolved on a pivot to reveal a deep, square vault. The Scroll of the Vigors lay inside, one end pointing toward him. Carefully, almost reverently, Wulfgar pulled it from its resting place.
He cradled the scroll triumphantly. He did not need the Scroll of the Vigors for his personal use. His only need was for the Scroll of the Vagaries, and the secrets it contained. But by keeping this scroll away from the mentors of the Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou, he could keep Tristan and Shailiha perpetually untrained.
And in doing so, he would ensure that he would rule supreme forever.
He turned to look back at Faegan, another smile crossed his face.
"When the Orb of the Vigors is destroyed, the life enchantments sustaining you and the lead wizard will vanish, so I must now bid you a final good-bye. I shall leave my warp in place, so that you don't run off anywhere."
On his way out of the room, Wulfgar turned back. "Before I go, please let me ask you one final question," he said courteously. "Tell me, traitor, how does it feel to have betrayed everything you once held so dear?"
Without waiting for a reply, Wulfgar smiled again, and the azure glow of the craft surrounded him. Then the glow disappeared, and both he and the scroll were gone. After a few moments the door to the Hall of Blood Records opened, then closed again.
Sobbing, Faegan looked over at Celeste. Then he looked at the empty vault in the wall, its door still open and yawning at him. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he lowered his face in shame.
CHAPTER
Seventy-two
B y the time Tristan's litter and its accompanying Minion forces reached Tammerland, night was falling. Little had been said during the trip, and it had seemed to the prince that for some reason Wigg and Abbey had remained especially distracted. But he had to admit that he, Shailiha, and Tyranny had all been quiet as well, their hearts heavy with concern about what might have become of Faegan and Celeste.
Tristan was about to give the order to take them down when Wigg leaned out of the litter and looked around. After a time, it seemed he had found what he was searching for. "Have the Minions land us on that rise coming up!" he said firmly. "There is something we must do before going any farther!"
Scowling, Tristan glared at the wizard. "Are you mad?" he shouted. "Celeste and Faegan might be fighting for their lives for all you know! We have to get to the palace!"
"No!" Wigg shouted back. He reached out and took Tristan by the shoulders. "You must trust me! There are things that Faegan, Abbey, and I have not told the rest of you!" For a moment Tristan actually thought that the wizard might go so far as to use his powers, if need be, to enforce whatever he had in mind.
"Now do as I say!" Wigg shouted. "And have them land the litter on that rise below us! And don't send your troops into the fight until I have done what I came here for!"
His jaw clenched in anger, Tristan looked out of the litter and shouted some orders out to Traax. Almost immediately the litter and the Minion host started toward the rise. As they reached the top, the palace grounds came into view below. Tristan looked down and took a short breath. The blood and bodies of both Minion and demonslaver alike littered the palace grounds. The survivors were still battling. The Minions, greatly outnumbered now, were clearly losing this fight. Most of them had been forced into the courtyard, their backs up against one of the inner walls as the demonslavers rushed them time and time again.
Some of the demonslavers were also dying, but it seemed that for every one of them that went down, two or more Minions died just as quickly. There were so many demonslavers upon them that the Minion warriors could not even take to the air.
His heart full of rage, Tristan spun around and glared at Wigg with angry, beseeching eyes as they landed.
"What's wrong with you?" Tristan shouted as he thrust one hand out, pointing at the ongoing massacre. "Can't you see that if I don't release my warriors, the ones down there will be cut to pieces?"
Wigg grabbed him by the shoulders again. "What I am about to do must be done!" he said harshly. "There is no time to explain! You simply must trust me! What do you want to save the most, eh? Some of the Minions who have sworn to defend you, or the very craft itself?"