Then he looked over at Abbey. "I want you to remain here," he ordered her. "You've done all you can for now. The rest of you come with me! We have to get to the stables!"

But Tristan had a question, and he urgently grabbed Faegan's arm. "What about the Minions? Shouldn't they help?"

"No," Faegan said thoughtfully. "This must be done very carefully." Pausing for a moment, he looked over to Shailiha to see that Caprice was still perched on her forearm. Wasting no time, he quickly beckoned the princess to him.

Faegan whispered something to her. Shailiha raised the arm holding Caprice and closed her eyes. After several moments the flier launched herself into the air and flew away.

Abbey watched in silence as Wigg, Tristan, Shailiha, and Celeste sprinted from the courtyard. Faegan levitated his chair again and went soaring along beside them. In mere moments they had rounded the corner of the partially destroyed palace and were gone.

Completely exhausted, Abbey stared out over the hissing rubble and tried to fathom what had just happened. No quick answers came. Turning back, she looked apprehensively toward the corner where her friends had disappeared.

Slowly, tiredly, she began making her way back to the palace.

CHAPTER

Fifty-seven

A s Tristan sat atop Pilgrim at the edge of the Plaza of Fallen Heroes, a sense of foreboding crept over him. Finding the scroll was going to be difficult at best, and for all he knew Krassus might also be here. Searching the sky he finally found Caprice as she soared gracefully above, all of her senses on alert. Ordering any of the fliers this close to ordinary citizens was always a risk, but Faegan obviously thought the stakes were too high not to employ her talents.

On the way to the plaza, Faegan had shouted out his orders. Tristan, Wigg, Celeste, and Faegan would approach the square from different directions, then wait quietly on horseback at its outer edges. Shailiha would walk calmly to the center and wait. From above, Caprice would have an excellent view of the scene and, it was hoped, would silently inform Shailiha when she spotted the scroll. When Shailiha moved, the rest of them would quickly follow her, and converge on the scroll from different directions.

Assuming it was still here, Tristan thought.

He could just make out Wigg, Faegan, and Celeste as they waited nervously atop their horses at different spots on the plaza's outer edges. They were wearing dark blue consuls' robes to help hide their identities. To the wizards' great consternation, Tristan had refused to wear one, claiming it would interfere with quick access to his weapons.

He glanced back at Faegan, and one corner of his mouth came up in admiration. Since their battle with the demonslavers at the docks, Tristan had learned that it was very painful for the crippled wizard to sit a horse. But somehow Faegan was able to partition his mind and control the pain. And the prince knew that the inquisitive wizard wouldn't have missed being here for the world.

As he stared out across the plaza, his jaw hardened. This wasn't much of a plan, he thought. Then again, there hadn't been much time to formulate one.

Reaching behind his right shoulder, he grasped the hilt of his dreggan and gave it a short tug, making sure its blade would not stick if called upon. Then he did the same with the first three of his throwing knives. As Pilgrim shifted his weight beneath him, Tristan leaned one arm down on the pommel of his saddle and glued his dark eyes on his sister.

A re you ready, piglet?" Marcus asked Rebecca encouragingly. He could see that she was very afraid.

In truth, Rebecca wished that Marcus would just forget about the silly old scroll. But she also knew that this was the day he had worked so hard for, and when his mind was made up, it was made up.

Leaning against the brick wall of the alley, she took the weight off her clubfoot and looked down at the old wheelbarrow. In it lay the scroll, wrapped once again in the rug that Marcus had stolen. Maybe this was for the best, she finally thought. At least after today she wouldn't have to watch it glow anymore. She looked tentatively up into her brother's hopeful green eyes.

"I guess I'm ready," she said softly. "What do you want me to do?"

Marcus smiled. "That's my girl," he said. He pointed out into the plaza, to the booth where he had purchased the bird for her to release.

"Do you remember that stand?" he asked her. "And the bird I bought for you?"

Biting her lip, she nodded.

"Very soon now, a man will lead a horse over next to it. He's big and fat, and has a white mustache. There will be several bags tied to the saddle. Once I think he is alone, I will walk out with the wheelbarrow, speak with him for a little bit, and then exchange the horse for the wheelbarrow. That will be all there is to it. But when I leave the plaza with the horse, you must do something for me. From where you will be standing, you must watch and see if anyone is following me. If you're sure they are, I want you to run to me straight away. I'll hoist you up on the horse, and we'll make a run for it. But if no one is behind me, then we'll meet later, in our usual spot. Do you understand?"

Rebecca nodded. Her foot ached, and she just wanted all of this to be over. "Where do you want me to stand?" she asked quietly.

"Do you remember the place I showed you earlier this morning? The one by the corner?"

"Yes."

"Stand there. From that spot you should be able to see everything."

Marcus glanced out into the plaza. Time was getting short, and if the artifacts dealer was truly coming, he would be here soon. Only within the last hour the scroll had glowed again, and Marcus found himself as anxious to be rid of it as 'Becca was.

Bending down a bit, Marcus took 'Becca by the shoulders and looked into her frightened brown eyes.

"You can do this for me, can't you, piglet?" he asked as he searched her face. "Your part is awfully important. I couldn't do it without you, you know."

Looking up at her brother, Rebecca did her best to smile.

Marcus looked nervously out into the plaza again. "I think you should go now," he said. "And try to remember everything I told you. Very soon this will all be over, and we'll be free."

Taking a deep breath, Rebecca stood away from the wall and limped out into the sunlight. After taking only a few steps, she turned and looked back at her brother for a moment. As she did, Marcus held his breath.

Then she turned back to the teeming plaza and kept on going. He watched the back of her tattered plaid dress for as long as he could, until it finally melted away into the crowd.

His breath coming quickly now, Marcus leaned against the wall, closed his eyes tight, and desperately hoped that he had just done the right thing. Turning back to the bird booth, he fingered the spring-loaded knife in his pocket and waited.

G rabbing Mr. Worth by his expensive, sweaty collar, Janus slammed him up against the nearest wall of the empty artifact shop. Worth shook with fear. Grizelda smiled.

Then the painted freak looked down at the three heavy canvas bags lying nearby on the otherwise barren floor.

"It's time," he whispered nastily. "Time for me to obtain what I came all this way for." As he smiled, his red mask crinkled up at the edges.

Reaching down to his belt, he removed the twin iron spheres and held them up before Worth's frightened eyes.

"I am deadly accurate with these," he hissed. "Emphasis on the word 'dead.' And my friend and I won't be far away. So don't get any bright ideas about double-crossing me, or your head will soon be lying all by itself on the bricks of the plaza." He smiled. "You could then be called one of the Fallen Heroes! How deliciously ironic! Do you understand my instructions, you fat bastard?"