For several long moments Abbey stopped what she was doing. "So you finally remarried," she said softly, once more busying herself with the teakettle. Wigg thought he heard her voice crack again.

"No," he answered gently. "Failee was apparently pregnant when she left me. Celeste was protected by time enchantments and is nearly as old as you and I." He paused. "A great many things have transpired in our land since we were last together. Much of which, I'm sure, you remain unaware of. It would be a very long story."

Abbey, her face emotionless, placed two cups of tea on the table and took a seat. She beckoned Wigg to join her. "You and I are each blessed with the enchantments granting eternal life," she said flatly. "I think we can spare the time."

Wigg's mouth came up into a short smile.

As succinctly as he could, the lead wizard told her of the workings of the Paragon. He also described the Tome and its several volumes. After explaining the importance of Tristan and Shailiha, he then told her of the unexpected return of the Sorceresses of the Coven, and how he and Tristan had ventured across the Sea of Whispers to defeat them in the previously unknown land of Parthalon. He told her everything: the story of Nicholas, Ragnar, and Celeste, and the destruction of the Gates of Dawn.

Abbey listened intently, searching for any scrap of information that might help her unravel the secret to helping Wigg's stricken daughter. He explained the recent discovery of the Forestallments in the blood signatures of Shailiha, baby Morganna, Tristan, and Celeste. These spells took the form of crooked branches leading away from the main pattern of the blood signature, and had apparently been placed into their blood by the Coven-for what purposes Wigg and Faegan could only guess and would likely never know. It had been such a Forestallment that had resulted in Shailiha's highly unusual ability to commune with the fliers of the field. And the Forestallment he had unwittingly helped activate in Celeste had enabled her to save their lives by killing the saber-toothed bear.

At the mention of Celeste's Forestallment, Abbey's eyes lit up. She stood and walked quickly back to the bed. Lifting Celeste's hands, she again examined her blackened fingertips and broken nails.

"You say the bolt she sent against the bear-this 'Forestallment,' as you call it-was unusually strong?" she asked. "And that it happened just after she began to convulse?"

"Yes," Wigg answered. "Her bolts were the most powerful I have ever seen; they literally ripped the creature apart. Then she collapsed. And now…" He paused, one eyebrow rising, "I think I know why."

"Explain," Abbey said, returning to the table.

"You just said it yourself," he replied. "Her first use of a Forestallment came quickly, immediately after its activation, so her blood had no time to adjust to its new state. No doubt it was Failee's intention to activate Celeste's gifts one by one, and train her in their use gradually, in a controlled environment. But given the desperate situation, Celeste acted instinctively. This proved to be too much for her untrained blood, and plunged her into this deep, twilight state." He turned sadly, looking back over at the bed. "There is another wizard with me at the palace. His name is Faegan. He would have been able to help, for he is also an herbalist. But your cottage was much closer."

"And so you brought her here," Abbey answered skeptically. "But what were the two of you doing in these woods to begin with?"

"We were coming to see you about a different matter," Wigg said rather apologetically. "I was hoping, after all of these years, to gain your help. Eutracia needs you."

Abbey shook her head slowly. "It seems you suddenly require a great deal of help, Lead Wizard," she replied stiffly. The herbmistress thought for a moment. Then she leaned closer, her face dark.

"Tell me," she said sternly, "after more than three hundred years of surviving without my services, how is it that the lofty nation of Eutracia suddenly needs one of those who was so summarily banished?"

Trying to think of a way to broach the subject, Wigg looked around the unkempt cottage. Bottles lay overturned and shelves had been torn down; much of the glassware that should have contained Abbey's hard-won treasures was conspicuously empty. His eyes went back to the herbmistress. "I don't remember you being such a poor housekeeper," he said simply.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she shot back.

"This mess is not like you, and we both know it," Wigg said gently. And then he took a breath and asked, "He was here, wasn't he? The man in the two-colored robe. And he had a woman with him-a partial adept, possibly trained both as an herbmistress and a blaze-gazer. They took much from you, didn't they? Not the least of which was a sizable portion of your rather infamous pride."

The herbmistress' hard shell seemed to crack a bit, and a tear came to one eye. Taking a chance, Wigg placed one of his hands over hers. Surprisingly, she did not pull away.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, looking down. "But the woman knew exactly which herbs and compounds she wanted. Many of them were among my most prized. I cannot say for sure whether she was a gazer, since she practiced no such art in my presence. But given her knowledge of my stores, she was certainly an herbmistress. The man was ill with some disease of the lungs. He put me in some kind of bizarre, glowing cage, and I couldn't stop him. All I could do was watch as they destroyed a lifetime of work." She raised her face back up. "But how did you know?"

"His name is Krassus, and he was once first alternate to the Directorate of Wizards," Wigg answered. "Ironically, I appointed him to that position myself. He is now apparently a full wizard of some power, his gifts perhaps imbued by Nicholas through Forestallments. But we do not know who the woman is. Krassus claimed she is a blaze-gazer, but we have no proof of that. He came to the palace demanding information. He searches for a man named Wulfgar. His other quest is for something called the Scrolls of the Ancients. Tell me, are you familiar with either?"

"No."

"When I could not answer his questions, he beat me and violated my mind," Wigg said angrily. "He also gloated about having been here, and leaving you in a bad way. Then, after promising to kill Faegan and me, he left. I simply had to come, to see if you were all right. But I must admit that I had other reasons for visiting you."

"I knew you lay ill," she said unexpectedly.

Wigg's eyes sharpened at Abbey's unexpected statement. "What?" he asked.

"After they left, I went to my gazing flame and searched for you," she answered. "I admit that it was not the first time I have done so. You were lying in a bed, with people standing around you whom I did not know."

"So you have a gazing flame here?" Wigg asked.

Abbey nodded.

"But what is there of mine that you could possibly have kept all of these years?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Don't you need something personal of your subject in order to properly view the image?"

Abbey reached for the locket around her neck and opened it. Curled up inside was a short braid of dark brown hair. She placed it on the table. Wigg's eyes went wide.

"Mine?" he asked. "But how could that be?"

"I took it from you in bed one night, more than three hundred years go," she answered, placing the braid back into the pendant and locking it again. "You always slept so deeply." A slight smile finally appeared on her face: the coming of some memory, perhaps. But then it was quickly overtaken by another look of anger.

"And then you voted with your brotherhood to banish all the partial adepts," she whispered angrily. "Yet another of the Directorate's knee-jerk reactions to anyone or anything of the craft not directly controlled by them." She turned her face away. "You hurt me deeply, Wigg. You hurt all of us with partial blood. To this day I am not sure I will ever be able to forgive you. It was so unfair…"