"So now we know," he said in a soft voice. "Still, this was a terrible way to have to find out."

Shailiha looked to Wigg. "There is absolutely no word of my brother?" she asked. "None of the Minion search parties have turned up anything?"

The lead wizard shook his head. "I am sorry," he answered sadly. "But they continue to search, and they won't give up. Several days ago we sent Geldon and Traax to Parthalon, to activate the Minion fleet. They have been on patrol since, plowing the Sea of Whispers in an attempt to intercept Krassus' supposed fleet and recover the Chosen One. We have yet to hear from them."

Shailiha and Celeste looked wide-eyed at the two old wizards. "So you sent the fleet out anyway?" Celeste asked incredulously. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because you weren't needed, and there wasn't time for us to endure yet another of your blatant pleadings to go along with them," Wigg said, trying to keep his tone light. "You are both very strong, valuable allies, and we thought your considerable talents might be better used for other things. As it turned out, we were right."

Shailiha glared at the wizards as she tried her best to be angry with them. But in the end, she couldn't. She and Celeste had been so sure they had manipulated them, but in truth it had been the other way around. She was once again reminded that there was always more to dealing with Wigg and Faegan than first met the eye.

"So what do we do now?" she asked the table in general. Morganna cooed, and the princess gave her a little hug.

"Abbey and Lionel shall eventually go back to Shadowood to try to unravel the riddle of the herbs and the oils," Faegan answered. "The bulk of the Minion forces will remain here. After all, we cannot be sure that Krassus and his demonslavers aren't still in Eutracia. We must make sure the castle and the Redoubt are well protected." He paused.

"There is something else I wish to tell you all," he added after a moment, "and this must come first, before anyone returns to Shadowood. I have been doing research into the Tome, to see if I might come up with something more to help us with these problems of the herbs and oils. And after hearing your story, I am most glad that I did."

Raising one arm, he commanded the Tome to come to him. It rose into the air and floated across the room to come to rest on the table. Narrowing his eyes, he employed the craft to open it to a particular section of the text. Then he looked back up at the lead wizard.

"Tell me," he asked Wigg, "have you ever heard of the Chambers of Penitence?"

"No," Wigg answered skeptically. "What are you talking about?"

"At first I did not remember the phrase either," Faegan replied. "But when I used my gift of Consummate Recollection to scan the Tome for the words 'herbs' and 'oils,' a strange thing happened. I also kept seeing the words 'Chambers of Penitence' in my mind. Not just once, mind you, but over and over again, until they started to crowd everything else out. It was as if the Tome was desperately trying to tell me something. Heretofore the text had only been a silent, static entity. But now it was as if it had suddenly come alive, just as the Paragon has its own otherworldly form of existence. It was astounding. So I decided to actually read the pages, rather than simply rely on my memory. And when I did, further references to these chambers kept popping up, taking me to other related pages in the text. And after crisscrossing back and forth in the text this way, I was finally led here, to a specific volume of the Vigors. By itself, the passage would be confusing. But now, after having been led here from its many sources, the meaning is becoming more clear."

"And just what does the passage say?" Wigg asked.

Faegan looked down at the page. " '… And there shall be discovered many Chambers of Penitence, which shall both help to guide their way in the craft, and also ensure the existence of the Vigors. Each chamber shall be different in its secrets than the last, but each shall reveal aspects of the craft so complex that they must be hidden within the earth. But be forewarned, for the psychic price of such knowledge shall be dear, perhaps even mortal.' "

Faegan looked up from the great book. "Do you see?" he asked excitedly.

Wigg leaned forward, intensely interested.

"Let me show you," Faegan went on. Narrowing his eyes again, he commanded more of the pages to turn to another part of the text. Running his finger down the page, he finally found what he was looking for.

" 'If it be of the herbs and oils of the craft that one seeks guidance, it shall be found in one of the Chambers of Penitence. Within the chamber they shall find the Floating Gardens of the Craft, eternally guarded by the watchwoman of the waters. But the cost of such knowledge shall be dear indeed, and it should be searched out only in times of great distress, for the risk is great. At the base of the Woman of Stone, one shall begin to find the answers. But only with the help of the Paragon, for it alone shall light the way.' "

"The Woman of Stone?" Celeste asked. "What is that?"

"The Woman of Stone is a rock formation on the coast, not too far from here," Wigg answered, rubbing his chin. "Over time, the waves have carved the profile of a woman into the rock wall overlooking the Sea of Whispers. It has supposedly existed for eons. Long enough, it would now appear, for the Ones Who Came Before to know of it as well, and use her as a landmark by which to leave one of these so-called Chambers of Penitence." Pausing for a moment, he looked back over to Faegan.

"But what of these floating gardens?" he asked. "And who is this watchwoman who is supposedly eternally guarding them? And what does the Tome mean by the 'psychic price to be paid'?"

"We won't know until we go there, will we?" Faegan cackled. His expression and posture reminded Wigg that nothing so entranced his old friend as an unexplained secret of the craft, especially if he was the only one to possess the answer.

"I think we should depart first thing in the morning," Faegan added.

Wigg looked over to Abbey to see a hint of disappointment in her eyes. It seemed they would be separated again, after all. Then he looked back at Faegan and sighed.

He hoped the master wizard was right.

CHAPTER

Twenty-four

R aising his sword high, Tristan narrowly parried the sharp strike from the demonslaver's blade. The guard had rushed from the deck above to confront him, even before he had ascended the last two steps of the stairway.

Struggling against the ceaseless blows, he somehow made it topside and gained some badly needed maneuvering room. As his opponent raised his sword yet again, Tristan finally sensed an opening. Sliding in on the balls of his feet, he swung the blade around in a flat, perfect circle. The tip of the sword sliced the slaver's abdomen open, and the monster fell to the deck.

Trying to ignore the desperate pain in his back, Tristan stole a precious moment to get his bearings. There were five ships involved in the struggle. The Wayfarer and the Stalwart lay next to one another in the water. Two of the still-unidentified frigates flanked them. The third lay before their bows. The three mysterious frigates had employed heavy grappling hooks to pull all the ships together and hold them there. There was nothing for the monsters to do but stand and fight. All five of the vessels' decks swarmed with combatants.

Many of the slave ships' sails were torn and hanging down, while their masts had fallen, shattered, to the decks. Rigging lay everywhere, making fighting all the more difficult. Small fires had broken out here and there, dark smoke rising to blur vision.

Suddenly Tristan realized what was wrong about it all.