"Do you wish me to send out search parties?" the warrior asked.

"No, no," Tristan said with a wave of one hand. "I think they've earned it, too."

"Then may I request a favor?" the warrior asked.

"What is it?"

"Whenever you finally tell the wizards, might I also be in attendance? The looks on their faces will be worth every bit of that thirteen thousand kisa."

Tristan laughed again. "Yes!" he answered. "But until then, this stays just between the two of us."

His mood turning more serious, Tristan turned and faced the door. "Are you ready?" he asked Traax. "From this moment on, so many things will change."

"Yes, my lord," Traax replied gravely. His face had suddenly become full of both respect and gratitude. "This is a great thing you have done, and I thank you with all my heart."

Tristan nodded at the two warriors flanking the doors, and they obediently opened them. Then the prince and Traax walked in and took their appointed seats with the others.

The magnificently carved table Tristan had ordered two weeks ago was ten sided, and a matching, high-backed chair sat at each station. An image of the Paragon had been beautifully inlaid in its center. Each chair held a person he cared for very much and who possessed, each in his or her own way, talents that would no doubt serve them all well into the future. Their seating arrangement alternated by gender. Their names had been carved into the tops of their chairs just as the chair of the ill-fated Directorate of Wizards had been. As Tristan looked around the table, he was reminded of why he had selected each of them.

Wigg and Faegan were here, of course, as full-fledged representatives of the craft. Wigg was wearing his golden ceremonial dagger around his waist, and from Faegan's neck hung the Paragon, its bloodred facets dancing in the light of the fireplace. Between them sat Abbey as a representative of the partial adepts, the mysterious men and women of the craft whom the prince still knew so little about, but hoped to learn so much more. On Faegan's left sat a very stunned Adrian of the House of Brandywyne, whom Wigg and Faegan had selected to represent the acolytes of the Redoubt. And on her left was Traax.

Next to Traax sat Shailiha. Caprice perched quietly at the top of her mistress' chair, gently opening and closing her violet-and-yellow wings. After her came Geldon, whose knowledge of Parthalon had no equal. At Tristan's right was Celeste, the love of his life.

And finally, on the prince's left, sat Tyranny. With the Minion fleet smashed, she and her small squadron of privateers now represented the only seaborne defenses Eutracia had.

Looking up, Tristan nodded to the Minion still waiting by the door.

The warrior walked into the hallway, closed the door behind himself, and took up his post.

"By my order, the Directorate is no more," Tristan said solemnly. "We are now the Conclave of the Vigors."