At that moment, Tristan understood that he had never truly loved before. Certainly not in just this way, nor ever with so full a heart.

"And just what do you suppose your father will have to say about all of this?" he asked with a little laugh.

"I have no idea." She laughed, too. "But I know I love you with all my heart, and nothing in this world will ever change that, I promise you."

"And I, you," he answered softly.

Taking a deep breath of self-discipline, she tore herself away. "I have to leave," she said. "And you need to clean yourself up!" Her sapphire eyes seemed to stab right through his heart. "I will see you in the courtyard."

With a final smile of good-bye, she walked to the door and left him alone with his thoughts. Long after she was gone, he could still smell the myrrh in the air.

Tristan walked back out to the balcony and looked down at the remains of the breakfast she had brought him, and then stared out over the peaceful countryside. Realizing his lips still held the memory of her kiss, he slowly grazed his fingertips over them. It was then that the long-awaited understanding finally came whispering its way into his mind.

And so it begins.

CHAPTER

Fifty-six

B y the time Tristan had bathed, dressed, and finally reached the courtyard, the sun was nearing its zenith. Abbey, Wigg, Faegan, and Shailiha were already there, waiting for him. Caprice, Shailiha's violet-and-yellow flier of the fields, was perched calmly on the princess' outstretched arm. Shailiha had left her daughter in the care of the gnome wives, Tristan assumed. As he joined the group, he gave Celeste a knowing smile.

Seeing Tristan, Wigg scowled and loudly cleared his throat. "And now that we're all finally here…"

Tristan paused in midstride. Glancing at Wigg, he sighed and pursed his lips.

The lead wizard turned to Abbey. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Running one hand worriedly through her thick salt-and-pepper hair, the herbmistress nodded. "Perhaps this time our luck will hold." She looked over at Faegan. The Paragon, hanging around his neck, sparkled in the sun.

"But given the fact that we still do not completely understand the Furies, I suggest we take some protective measures," she added. "We have postulated that the Furies arise only when the blood of the Chosen Ones is involved in this process, but we also must admit that our understanding of this remains limited. I have no desire to relive what happened the other day. To that end, I have a suggestion."

Faegan looked up from his chair. "Indeed," he replied. "What is your idea?"

"Can you use the craft to fashion something to contain my gazing flame?" Abbey asked him. "Something that would be strong enough to shield me from the Furies, if need be, but that my hands and my gifts might also be able to actually reach through, so that I still might accomplish my work?"

Faegan nodded. "There is a variation of the wizard's warp that should do."

Raising his arms, he called the craft. As he did, the familiar azure glow appeared. Then the glow coalesced into a gleaming, transparent cube sitting silently before them on the grass of the courtyard. Open at the top, it was about five meters high, and another five meters across on each side.

Tristan guessed that Faegan had left the cube's top open purposely, so that if the process erupted the force would go upward, harmlessly releasing its power into the sky.

Faegan lowered his arms. "That should suffice," he said thoughtfully. "I have fashioned it to be as strong as I know how, yet also accommodate your other demands. But what you need to understand is that whenever a warp is constructed so that one may pass any part of his or her body through it, by necessity some of its inherent strength is lost." He went quiet for several moments. "I certainly hope it will be enough," he added casually, his sense of understatement not lost on the others.

"Then it is time for me to begin," Abbey said quietly. She held one of her arms out toward Faegan. "The herbs I specified?"

Faegan untied the leather cinch bag from around his waist and handed it over to Abbey. Then the herbmistress turned to Wigg. "And the fragment from the Scroll of the Vagaries?"

As Wigg took the vellum from within his robes, he looked down at it, and a look of concern crossed his face.

"Tell me, Abbey," he asked her. "Do you need all of the vellum to view the other scroll?"

"While the relative size or quantity of the matching item is important, it is not so critical to the process as the quality and quantity of the herbs," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because if this thing blows up in our faces, I would prefer that we only risk half of the vellum, rather than all of it. Do you think you could be successful using only one half?"

"Perhaps. We won't know until we try."

Nodding, Wigg looked over at Faegan. "What say you?" he asked.

"I think we should proceed," Faegan said knowingly. "But we must also tell them the other reason we wish to divide the vellum in half."

"And what might that be?" Shailiha asked quizzically.

"Consider the following," Faegan said as he pushed his chair closer. "While it's true that Tristan brought us the vellum, and that we believe it came from the Scroll of the Vagaries, we still have no way of knowing who put it into his boot. Or even why, for that matter. Since only Krassus and the woman Tristan describes as Grizelda supposedly had access to the scroll, logic would dictate that it had to be one of them. But why would they do such a thing? They certainly do not wish to aid us in our search for the Scroll of the Vigors. But there is one thing Krassus and his herbmistress very much would like to see us accomplish on our own," he added wryly.

"And what is that?" Celeste asked.

"To die," Tristan said softly, half to himself. He looked over at the wizard in the chair. "That's what you're getting at, isn't it? You and Wigg believe that Krassus and Grizelda have somehow enchanted the vellum to destroy us, should we try to use it to view the other scroll. An enchantment set to enact with the onset of Abbey's flame." Angrily, he shook his head. "How could I have been so blind!" he groaned. "I might have gotten us all killed."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Wigg said, laying one hand on the prince's shoulder. "Faegan and I came to this hypothesis only hours ago ourselves, as we were examining the vellum."

Tristan scowled as he thought about it all. Then he suddenly realized that part of the wizards' theory made no sense. "But how could he know I would escape?" he asked.

"From the story you told us, there was no way he could have," Faegan answered. "But you're a very resourceful individual, and your reputation precedes you. We believe he may have enchanted the vellum and then placed it into your boot as an additional strategy, should you somehow actually find your way out of your predicament. Think about it. Why else would Krassus show you the scroll? As anyone in your position would do, you immediately associated the piece in your boot with it, and tried to bring the vellum back to us as quickly as you could." Pausing for a moment, Faegan cast his ever-curious eyes over at the vellum Wigg still held in his hand.

"If you failed to escape, it wouldn't matter," he continued. "If you did, he was prepared. Given the desperate nature of our situation, he is no doubt counting on the fact that we will hurry in our attempts to employ his little gift without first considering the consequences." Faegan took a deep breath. "And he was very nearly proven right."

Deeply discouraged, Tristan shook his head. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

"We do what we came here for," Wigg answered. "Provided, of course, that Abbey is still willing to try. After everything she has just heard, we can hardly condemn her, should she choose to decline."