Then the consul approached Wulfgar and bowed. Wulfgar nodded.

"Permission to continue, my lord?" the consul asked.

"Of course. When you are finished, you all may leave."

After a low bow, the consul returned to the tables. With a wave of his hand, the bindings holding the newly created demonslavers vanished. As they did, the beings sat up and came to stand on the floor. They were directed to the large pile of clothing in the far corner of the room, which they used to dress themselves. Then the newly minted slavers filed quietly out, presumably to take up the weapons that were still being constructed in the forge. The consuls and senior demonslavers followed in their wake, leaving Wulfgar and Serena alone in the great room.

Rising from his chair, Wulfgar walked over to one of the open stained-glass windows and looked out. Lost in thought, he took a deep breath and leaned against the window frame. The three rose-colored moons were up, and the sea below was calm.

Concerned for him, Serena stood and went to join him, linking her arm in his. "Tell me, my love," she asked, hoping to take his thoughts away from whatever was troubling him. "What is Krassus' part in all of this to be?"

Wulfgar took a deep breath. "For now, we still need him," he answered, his eyes still leveled on the Sea of Whispers. "But not for much longer. I believe Nicholas only meant for Krassus to be a tool, an instrument of victory as it were, rather than to preside over the victory himself. That is to be our task. As Krassus said himself, very soon now he will be dead. And when he is, we alone will be left to carry the battle to the Chosen Ones, and prevail against their practice of the Vigors."

He turned away from the window and looked around the deserted room. "Very soon now, all of the remaining slaves will have been transformed, and the struggle can begin. But what concerns me the most is that we are still not in possession of the other scroll. Nicholas and Krassus have deemed it important that we have them both in order to ensure our victory. And still I do not know why."

She could see the worry in his eyes. "Krassus asked us to join him for dinner, did he not?" she asked. "Perhaps tonight you will finally get the answers you seek."

Wulfgar nodded his silent agreement and escorted her from the room.

The walk back to Krassus' quarters was pleasant, and the new master and his pregnant queen talked of many things as they walked along, arm in arm. The Citadel was quiet now, the only sounds coming from the lighted fountains as they danced and played in the manicured gardens of the inner ward, and the quiet, careful footfalls of the demonslavers on patrol. Finally arriving at the door to Krassus' private quarters, Wulfgar knocked lightly once, then twice more.

An armed demonslaver let them in. Krassus was sitting alone at an elaborately decorated table, his back to them as he gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Enticing aromas drifted up from the sumptuously laid table.

Turning to look at Wulfgar and Serena, Krassus smiled. There was genuine admiration in his eyes for these two magnificent beings of the craft he had been so privileged to help create. Lifting one hand, he beckoned them nearer.

"Come in, my children," he said softly. "Sit with me this night, and we shall talk of the wondrous things to come."

As Wulfgar and Serena took their places at the table, the demonslaver bowed once more. Walking out the door, he closed it behind him and took up guard in the hall outside.

CHAPTER

Fifty-three

"I still can't believe you're actually here!" Shailiha squealed happily to her brother for what seemed to him to be at least the hundredth time. She gave him yet another affectionate hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him and causing him to spill his wine. On the prince's other side sat an equally ecstatic Celeste, who had embraced him closely when he descended from the litter.

The hour was late, bordering on dawn, Tristan guessed, and he was tired beyond all measure. Still bloodied and exhausted from the recent fighting, he had already eaten several healthy portions of the gnome wives' wonderful cooking, washed down with a serious amount of red wine.

Not ones to stand on ceremony, Tyranny and Scars had done the same, Scars eating so much so quickly that the diminutive cooks had been forced to make five separate trips back and forth to the kitchens just for him. Of course the territorial little women had fussed worriedly over everything, but Tristan knew that deep down they were secretly delighted.

Looking around the massive oak meeting table in the Hall of Supplication, the prince realized what a disparate group of people had been gathered here. It included himself, Shailiha-with Morganna playing on the floor close by-Celeste, Abbey, Geldon, Wigg, Faegan, Tyranny, and Scars. Or, put another way, he thought wryly, the group consisted of a prince, a princess, an herbmistress, a hunchbacked dwarf from Parthalon, two irascible wizards, a three-hundred-year-old beauty, a female pirate captain, her giant first mate, a baby, and Faegan's blue cat, of course.

Tristan shook his head. Telling everyone his story would probably last well past sunrise. And he needed to hear of all that had transpired while he was gone, as well.

The Chamber of Supplication was the great hall in which Tristan's father and the late Directorate of Wizards had from time to time heard special, urgent requests from the populace. Sometimes, if the petition was worthy and within the wizards' ethical and magical purview to provide, it would be granted. The chamber was made of dark blue Ephyran marble. Patterned rugs adorned the floor, and light flooded the room from wall torches and the great oil-lamp chandelier that hung over the table.

When Wigg and Faegan had suggested this room in which to talk, Tristan had quickly agreed. He knew that the wizards would not want strangers poking about in the Redoubt below. And despite the fact that he trusted the pirate captain and her first mate implicitly, Tristan went along with the wizards' request.

Tristan's arrival by Minion litter had been joyous, to say the least. Upon reaching the coast, he had ordered K'jarr to fly ahead and tell everyone they were coming. As a result, every person in the palace had come running out to greet them at once, including as many Minions, male and female alike, as could wedge their way into the courtyard.

Being the first one out of the litter, Tristan had been immediately pounced upon by Shailiha and Celeste. Then Ox had taken him up in his great arms like a vise, hugging him tightly and lifting him high off his feet. As he did, the other warriors cheered. Tristan could scarcely breathe.

"Ox so glad to see Chosen One!" the huge warrior bellowed. "Ox worried!"

Geldon exited next, followed by Tyranny and Scars. When the sea captain and her first mate appeared, things became a bit awkward, to say the least.

First there had been the issue of Scars. Tristan had known for some time that he had earned the giant's grudging respect, and with that had come a certain attitude of protectiveness. When Scars saw Ox go for Tristan, his first instinct had been to free him. Caught in Ox's arms, Tristan had barely managed to wave Scars off.

But once Ox had put Tristan down, the two giants had begun menacingly sizing each other up. Not knowing what else to do, Tristan had impetuously stepped directly between them and made the necessary introductions. When both backed off, Tristan was greatly relieved. He could scarcely imagine the outcome had these two giants actually gone after each other.

And then Tyranny had stepped from the litter. Seeing her rather provocative striped pants and short, low-cut leather jacket; her dark, urchinlike hair flying every which way in the breeze; her gold hoops dangling from her ears; and her sword slung low down over one hip, Shailiha and Celeste raised skeptical eyebrows. Shailiha's mouth puckered slightly, and she gave her brother a quizzical, not altogether approving glance. Celeste simply crossed her arms over her breasts and began tapping the ground with one foot.