"And now I must bid you good-bye," he said. "Enjoy her, Wulfgar," he added. "I must say I envy you." He gave them both a short, sarcastic bow.

With that he turned and walked purposefully out of the room, the twin spheres at his side clinking together ominously, the demonslavers behind him. As the massive marble doors closed with a decisive thud, Wulfgar heard the bolt slide into place on the other side.

Turning, he looked at the beautiful woman on the bed.

CHAPTER

Twelve

"Y ou had best be successful this time, Grizelda," Krassus said sternly. "I am growing tired of your failures."

Swaying on her knees, the haggard herbmistress looked up at Krassus. As she did, her stomach lurched again.

She had been seasick for the last four days, and even a dose of nerveweed had not helped. But she was not too ill to understand that the next few moments could mean either the continuance of her life, or a torturous death at the hands of the wizard, should she displease him.

After vomiting into the nearby bucket for what seemed the thousandth time, she slowly wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her tattered robe. Regaining her composure, she surveyed the shifting deck of the Sojourner, her lord's flagship, as she made her way east across the Sea of Whispers. Alabaster-skinned demonslavers hurried about their duties, crewing the ship and keeping the hundreds of slaves chained belowdecks under tight control. Sojourner's bright, white sails were full, and seawater occasionally splashed up over her decks as she pitched up and down in the restless sea. Two other frigates, the Wayfarer and the Stalwart, followed in her wake.

After the herbs and potions Krassus and Grizelda had stolen from Abbey's cottage had been loaded aboard, the three ships had departed Farpoint. They were making good time running before the steady, westerly winds.

Krassus turned to the demonslaver standing next to him. The monster immediately came to attention.

"Make sure all the crow's nests remain manned upon each of our vessels," Krassus ordered. "Signal them to continue keeping an especially sharp lookout, not only on the sea, but also in the sky. With the capture of the prince, I have no doubt that the wizards have sent their Minions after us. I believe we are already well beyond their flying range, but Wigg and Faegan are nothing if not resourceful."

The demonslaver nodded curtly. "My lord," he answered with a bow. He then left to fulfill his orders. Krassus returned his attention to the woman on her knees.

He and Grizelda were on the aft deck, the mizzen sail having just been furled. This would reduce their speed somewhat, but it couldn't be helped. What Grizelda was about to attempt was hazardous, especially with a full sail directly overhead: an uncontrolled fire on board ship in the middle of the Sea of Whispers was something to be avoided at all costs. Besides, performing these rituals in the confines of the chambers belowdecks was unthinkable.

When Tristan had been rendered unconscious in the alley by the slavers, he had been immediately taken to Krassus, then placed aboard the Sojourner. There Krassus had induced a deep sleep over him, and the prince was being force-fed liquid nourishment. The beard Faegan had conjured for him had since disappeared, and in its place there was now a shorter, two-day growth of dark, natural stubble. Still dressed in his usual clothes but his weapons gone, he lay peacefully belowdecks in a windowless stateroom guarded by demonslavers.

Krassus smiled. Capturing the prince had been an unexpected treat-a gamble risked and won. Satisfied, he took a deep breath of the nighttime sea air. But the cold, clear saltiness was too much for his lungs, and he let go a small cough. Several droplets of his blood spewed forth to hit the deck, where they immediately began twisting their way into familiar signatures. Sighing angrily, he wiped them away with the sole of his boot.

Thinking, he turned again to look out over the whitecapped ocean, where waves danced continually in the moonlight. Although Tristan was still untrained in the ways of the craft, Nicholas had warned Krassus that the prince's blood-the strongest in the world-possessed Forestallments that had been placed there by Failee, the failed first mistress of the Coven.

Krassus had been well trained by Nicholas in the art of imbuing Forestallments. The powers imparted thusly into the blood were delayed, or "forestalled," to be brought to life later, either activated at a predetermined time or catalyzed into being by the performance of certain specified acts by their possessor. If the Forestallment was time activated, there was no way to know when it might show itself, unless one knew the nature of the spell to begin with. If it was event activated, it could manifest at any time, provided that the correct action or sequence of actions had been taken by the person in whose blood the Forestallment had been placed. Krassus had no way of knowing the nature of the Forestallments that Failee had placed in Tristan's blood. Her did not want to accidentally activate one of those as-yet-untapped gifts. He would have to be exceedingly careful in his handling of the prince.

His plans were proceeding well, but he could not afford to become complacent. The two ancient wizards of the Redoubt remained very powerful. To defeat them and also accomplish his other goals, he would have to be very clever indeed. And he would have to get his hands on both the Scrolls of the Ancients and Wulfgar, Morganna's bastard son.

True, he still did not have the Scroll of the Vigors, and leaving Eutracia without having found it gave him great pause. But he had the Scroll of the Vagaries, and the work of his consuls back at the Citadel needed to begin. Besides, once his herbmistress was finally able to view the other scroll, he could always instruct his demonslavers to retrieve it for him, wherever it might be.

"The prince continues to sleep belowdecks?" Grizelda asked, breaking into Krassus' thoughts.

Krassus placed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his blue-and-gray robe. "Yes," he said. "Although untrained, he can still be quite dangerous, as he has so adeptly proven a number of times. As a precaution, I have decided to have him transferred to one of the other ships. Under no circumstances shall the Chosen One and the Scroll of the Vagaries be allowed to continue sharing the same vessel. Should the scroll fall into the hands of the wizards in Tammerland, our cause might be lost."

He smiled again. "I wonder if the good prince knows how to row," he added nastily. Suddenly impatient, his dark gaze bored its way into her.

"Now then," he said. "I suggest you get on with it."

Krassus smiled. He was gradually finding himself a reluctant admirer of the old woman's talents. Before finding her, he had located several partial adepts, but none had the particular combination of talents he hoped would help him fulfill his oath to Nicholas. As a precaution, he had killed them on the spot. He wished he had killed Abbey, too. But he hadn't dared, fearing he might need her as leverage with Wigg. Should she ever cross his path again, he swore, he would not make the same mistake twice.

In order to accomplish his goals, he needed to find Wulfgar. In addition, there was no telling what other persons or things of the craft he might need to collect while on his path to victory. For this, only a well-trained partial adept would do. He immediately set out to locate one.

He had finally discovered Grizelda in the city of Warwick Watch. She had been doing sleight of hand and other, lesser aspects of her arts for the amusement of the crowds, apparently living on whatever meager offerings they might deign to throw into her bowl. He had watched her for some time, then closed his eyes and reached out to her blood with his specialized senses. Finally sure, he waited until the small crowd had dispersed and the shadows of the day were beginning to lengthen. Picking up her meager things, the haggard woman counted her coins carefully, then tied them up in a dirty rag and scurried into the depths of a nearby alley.