With all of this talk of Nicholas and the orbs, Tristan sensed a recent memory trying to float to the surface. He knew it had to do with the day he had visited the Caves of the Paragon, when Nicholas had not only revealed that he was Tristan's son, but also what his plans were. Finally Tristan took a quick breath of realization and looked over at Faegan and Wigg.

"You're not wrong," he said quietly to the table at large. "The destruction of the Orb of the Vigors is exactly what Wulfgar has in mind."

Wigg looked carefully at the prince. "And you are certain of this because…"

"Because Nicholas told me so himself, that day in the Caves when he first revealed to me who he really was, and why he had been sent here by the Heretics," Tristan answered. "He did not tell me of his orders to Krassus should he perish, or of the existence of Wulfgar. Those intricacies of his mission he must have wished to keep secret, should all else fail. But he did tell me of his eventual plans for the orb."

Closing his eyes, Tristan did his best to recall Nicholas' words of that day. As they came back to him, he spoke them aloud as best he could remember.

" 'After the return of the Heretics, we shall eliminate all the others of the earth… Our world shall become one barren of all human life other than that which is sufficiently gifted… Together we shall then destroy the Vigors and their orb forever, leaving only the true, sublime teachings of the Vagaries that we have so come to love…' "

"The other half of Nicholas' mission," he murmured. Not only to destroy the Orb of the Vigors, but also to kill anyone-other than the consuls he was corrupting-with a right-leaning blood signature, as well! But first Krassus needed two things, didn't he? He needed Wulfgar because of the quality of his blood and the fact that he has a severely left-leaning signature. Wulfgar was the perfect choice because he would be a far easier subject to turn than Shailiha or I, yet he still possesses the blood of Morganna, the mother of the Chosen Ones. And Krassus also required the Scroll of the Vagaries to provide him with the calculations for the Forestallments he needed to gift into Wulfgar's blood, the most important of which shall grant Wulfgar the ability to destroy the orb."

Wigg looked over to where Faegan was sitting, to see that his old friend's face had become a mask of grave concern. Then, sensing what the prince was feeling, he reached out compassionately and placed one hand on Tristan's shoulder. "From what you tell us, it seems we were right after all," he said softly.

"Indeed," Faegan replied. "This is one of the few times in more than three centuries that I can honestly say I am sorry my deductions have proven correct. But there is most certainly another reason why Wulfgar will come."

"And what is that?" Tristan asked, lifting his head.

"He will try to take the Scroll of the Vigors from us-if for no other reason than to keep us from gifting your blood signature with more Forestallments. The more power you gain, the greater the danger to him and to what he wishes to accomplish."

"And Grizelda and this Harlequin, whoever he was, were supposed to retrieve the scroll for him and take it to the Citadel," Wigg added soberly. "But they failed, and are both dead."

"What do these orbs look like?" Shailiha asked. "And what purpose do they serve? I have heard you speak of them before, but I don't really understand them."

"Nor do I," Celeste added. "What are they, exactly?"

"Magic is everywhere," Wigg answered. "Even though it cannot be seen. In this aspect it is very much like the air we breathe, constantly surrounding us but invisible. In truth, however, magic has substance and shape, as does the air. Let me be clear: I'm speaking of the craft itself, of what it really is. There is a true, interwoven consistency to its energy and its existence, and it can be literally seen, each of the two sides, both the Vigors and the Vagaries. This is the reason we asked you to meet us here on the balcony, rather than in the depths of the Redoubt. So we could show you this wondrous thing firsthand, that you might better understand what it is we must bend every effort to try to protect." Wigg then closed his eyes and raised his arms, as if in supplication.

The sky began to lighten. As it did, a gigantic glow began to coalesce before them in the air of the courtyard. Slowly it started to spin and turn on its axis. It was becoming a brilliant, golden orb, with offshoots here and there of the palest white radiating outward from its center. From time to time golden droplets of energy would trickle down from the revolving orb and fall to the courtyard, dissipating into nothingness. For the second time in his life, Tristan found himself looking in awe at the Orb of the Vigors.

Wigg raised his arms again, and a darker image began to form. As it grew in size to match the other orb, it too began to coalesce into an orb and spin, but rather than being beautiful and awe-inspiring, the dark orb gave off a distinctly menacing aura-frightening, even horrifying.

As they watched the dark orb grow to the size of the Orb of the Vigors, it began to try to push the other orb aside, as if attempting to make room for itself. It was as frightening as the Orb of the Vigors was beautiful. Droplets of dark energy dripped from its pitch-black, shining sides, and bright scratches of lightning shot through the ebony orb's center. The Orb of the Vagaries, Tristan thought. The dark side of the craft in all its ghastly splendor.

Completely entranced, the people at the table watched as the two great orbs began to move about the afternoon sky. They would slowly, repeatedly attract one another, as if somehow needful of each other. But then, just as they were about to touch, they would unexpectedly, violently repel one another, and the process would continue. In some ways it was almost a pitiful thing to watch, the never-ending attempts to join, only to be thrust apart, over and over again.

Wigg opened his eyes. "Each thing in nature has its opposite," he explained. "Male and female, light and dark. And so it goes through the entire scheme of the world as we know it. The two sides of the craft are no different. For as long as we have known of their existence they have been in this perpetual state of struggle with each other." Pausing, he looked around the table at the amazed faces.

"It is believed that the two orbs must never touch," he continued. "Should that happen, the result would be calamitous-a rent, or tear, if you will, in the fabric of each. If the tears were large enough, it is believed that their powers would be released, to join uncontrollably, and that such an occurrence would be the end of all we know. It is also believed that there are invisible corridors in the fabric of the craft that might one day be called upon to finally, safely join the orbs, and that until these corridors are traversed by one or more of the Chosen Ones, neither side of the craft, no matter how powerful it may seem to be individually, has even a smattering of the dynamism it would if properly joined with the other." Lifting his arms again, Wigg closed his eyes, and the two orbs began to dissipate, finally vanishing altogether.

"What will happen to the craft if Wulfgar is successful in destroying the Orb of the Vigors?" Abbey asked.

Reaching out for the cup of tea before him, Faegan thoughtfully took a sip and then replaced it on its saucer. "In truth we cannot be sure, for so many of the concepts of the craft we once thought to be inviolate now seem subject to review-such as our long-held theory that one side of the craft couldn't exist without the other, for example. But at the very least the Vigors would cease to exist. As will you, Wigg, Celeste, and myself, for our time enchantments are each supported by that side of the craft. Not a very happy prospect." He took another sip of the tea. "At the very least, the world would be plunged into the dark side of the craft, perhaps forever, with Wulfgar as its master."