She threw another pinch of herbs into the branch of flame, then reached for and opened the silver locket that hung around her neck. The usual dark locket of hair, the one belonging to the lead wizard, still lay inside as always. But now there was another with it. It was sandy colored, and secured around its center with a red ribbon.

It was Wulfgar's-the lock of hair that she had first seen in the Hall of Blood Records when Wigg had explained Wulfgar to them and shown them his blood signature. The lock of his hair that his grandmother had taken from him before her daughter gave him over to the orphanage, thirty-four years ago.

She removed the ribbon and divided the lock of hair into two halves, than dropped one half into the lower of the two flames and held the other half high. She was ordering her flame to find Wulfgar, even though he was in plain view.

She knew she was risking her life by doing so. She was only a partial, and so her attempt to find Wulfgar, one of those of the womb of Queen Morganna, would undoubtedly call forth the Furies-the same phenomenon that she had experienced that day in the courtyard when she, Faegan, and Shailiha had nearly been killed while trying to find the prince by employing a drop of his twin sister's blood.

But this time, she prayed, she had the answer.

A s the orbs and the Isthmus joining them glowed ever more brightly, Wulfgar smiled. Even though the Forestallment required to accomplish his task was immensely refined, the concept behind his mission was exceedingly simple. He could still hear Krassus explaining to him how it was to be done, as though it were only yesterday.

First, call upon your blood and conjure forth the Isthmus. When the Isthmus has appeared and the orbs seem stable, then use your mind to open the gate at the end connected to the Orb of the Vagaries, and allow its dark energy to trickle through. As it begins to reach the Orb of the Vigors, open the other end of the Isthmus and force the dark energy inside the Orb of the Vigors without allowing it to return to its source. The Orb of the Vigors shall therefore become polluted, while the Orb of the Vagaries shall remain pristine. When enough dark energy has finally been transfused, however, the cataclysm will wish to commence, and you must be exceedingly careful lest you risk the destruction of the world, for chaos is the natural order of the universe. But if done correctly, before the great cataclysm occurs the controlled nature of your work will cause the Orb of the Vigors to explode in a great ball of fire and light, and your mission will be complete. The Vigors will be no more, Wulfgar, and you may return to the Citadel and rule in splendor forever.

Closing his eyes, Wulfgar used his mind to open the floodgate at the end of the Isthmus touching the Orb of the Vagaries. As he did, its destructive energy trickled into the Isthmus and flowed down the length of its interior, making it darker as it went. Any second now, Tristan saw, the energy of the Vagaries would reach the Orb of the Vigors, and everything they treasured would be gone forever.

J ust as it had done that day in the courtyard, the top of Abbey's gazing flame began to swell. The viewing window also began to form, but that was not her main concern this time.

Looking at the parchment hovering in the air before her, she began urgently reading aloud the formula that Wigg and Faegan had found in the Scroll of the Vigors only days before-the formula that the community of partial adepts had for centuries whispered would countermand the action of the Furies and send the energy back to the subject a thousandfold.

With a great explosion her gazing flame burst, throwing her to the ground. But unlike the previous time, that was not the end of it.

Sheets of pure energy shot from the exploding flame, illuminating everything for leagues around. The night sky erupted in a cacophony of noise and light as the energy streaked down the hill, searching out the subject that was to have been viewed.

Wulfgar.

Sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, Wulfgar turned for a moment to look up the hill. As the light shards came nearer, his face contorted into a mixture of confusion and terror. Then the Furies, magnified a thousandfold, found him.

Ignoring the orbs, Wulfgar turned to confront the Furies in a desperate effort to save his life. Frantically he sent azure bolts against them. But to no avail.

As the bolts slammed into the energy cascading down the hill, they simply fizzled away against it, dissipating into nothingness. Unaffected, the Furies continued toward him. Tearing across the roof, they passed over the Scroll of the Vigors and headed unerringly for Wulfgar.

As they approached their target, they began to produce a whirling maelstrom that soon surrounded him, trapping him within its confines. As it closed in on him, Wulfgar could feel the intense heat it emitted. He knew that if he remained inside, he would die. For a few precious moments he turned his hateful gaze on Tristan and Shailiha.

They heard him scream insanely. Then the scream died away. The maelstrom closed in hard-and exploded.

As the force of the blast tore through the night air, Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny felt the searing heat and power of the dying Furies from the confines of Wulfgar's deteriorating warp. Trees from the nearby hill were uprooted and sent flying into the air, and parts of the palace roof exploded, sending marble pieces high into the sky. Then the warp finally vanished altogether, and Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny collapsed to the roof. Tristan could barely move. Craning his neck, he looked over to see that the two women were either unconscious or dead.

It was all the prince could do to look up at the glowing orbs of the craft. Wulfgar's Isthmus had vanished, and the orbs seemed to be undamaged. Suddenly, they were gone.

Using what strength he had left, Tristan looked over at the scroll. Blessedly, it still lay on the palace roof, where Wulfgar had left it.

In horror he saw that the Scroll of the Vigors-the only known document in the world that could provide the answers he so desperately needed about himself-was burning. He tried to crawl toward it. But his strength gave out, and he collapsed back down to the roof.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was his Minion troops finally landing on the roof beside him, and Traax and Ox running toward the burning document.

CHAPTER

Seventy-three

"I n the name of the Afterlife, hold still!" Wigg shouted at Rebecca. He had been extremely cranky for the last three days, and it seemed to him that every bone in his three-hundred-plus-year-old body still hurt.

"Tristan!" he growled softly, trying not to frighten the young girl any more than she already was. "Can you get her to calm down somehow? I simply cannot do this properly if she won't stay still!"

Smiling with one corner of his mouth, Tristan took Rebecca by the shoulders and gently pushed her back down onto the table. Then he whispered something into her ear, and she giggled. She promised to remain still as best she could, then gave Wigg a curious look and giggled once more.

Narrowing his eyes, Wigg called the craft and again started employing the process that would begin healing her clubfoot. As he did, Rebecca seemed to calm down. He cast a wary eye toward the prince. "What did you say to her?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," Tristan answered casually. "Just that whenever you become irritated, the vein in your forehead starts to throb. I suggested she watch it to pass the time, and count how many times it did before you finished."

Sighing, Wigg shook his head, then snorted a laugh and went back to his work.

Tristan, Wigg, Faegan, Abbey, Shailiha, Celeste, and Tyranny were all in attendance here, in Wigg's personal drawing room. The stained-glass windows had been swung open to let in the fresh morning air and the songs of the birds.