"Order the litter to the cliffs, and wait for us there," he shouted against the sound of the sea. "There's no telling how long we might be. If the provisions in the litter run out, order some of the warriors back to the palace for more, or hunt for what you need. But I want at least enough of you here at all times to carry the litter when we come back out."

Wigg looked back to the edifice, and his jaw hardened. "If we come back out, that is."

Nodding, Ox turned away to carry out his orders. The cold, salty wind continued to whip at the wizards as they hovered just feet above the angry waves. Wigg looked at the Woman of Stone again.

The face was large-at least ten meters high and another four or five meters across-and impressive. Beautiful, but at the same time commanding. Long strands of stone hair hung down past the shoulders to descend into the sea, and the huge eyes lay peacefully closed behind heavy, seductive lids. The nose was slim; the lips were both sensuous and inviting; the cheekbones were high and elegant. Black as night and polished to a smooth luster by the sea, she seemed the very picture of serene, detached femininity.

Whether a face of such elegance and detail could have been carved naturally from the waves had been a great subject of debate for as long as Eutracia had existed. There was a distinct minority who insisted she must be a purely natural phenomenon-a freak of nature, as it were. Most, however, argued that she was far too refined, far too perfect to be an accident, and must therefore be the result of some arcane use of the craft from eons earlier. Wigg was entirely convinced it was the latter.

Wigg looked over to Faegan to comment on the beauty of the face, and stopped, stunned.

The Paragon was glowing.

The square-cut, bloodred jewel of the craft lying about Faegan's neck had always seemed to have a life of its own and tended to be faintly luminous no matter the time of day or the circumstances surrounding it. But this was incredible. The jewel was glowing with blinding red light.

Suddenly, without warning, two narrow, perfectly straight beams shot from the Paragon and tore toward the Stone Woman's eyes. Wigg and Faegan hovered, speechless, wondering what would happen next.

Then, as abruptly as they had appeared, the beams vanished, and the jewel returned to normal. Baffled, the two wizards looked at each other, then back at the Stone Woman.

The eyes were beginning to open.

Slowly, the huge, heavy lids parted, revealing piercing eyes of the most intense azure. The eyes regarded them calmly for a few moments; the lids gently blinked. And then the lips began to move.

"You are of the craft," the Stone Woman said, her words coming to them quite clearly over the pounding waves. Her voice was compassionate, yet strong. "You carry the Paragon, and so you may see me for what I truly am. Welcome, and well done."

Wigg found his voice first. "Who are you?" he asked. "Are you the watchwoman of the floating gardens?"

"No," she replied. "She awaits within. I am but one left by those you call the Ones Who Came Before. I oversee the first of the tests required to successfully enter and leave this Chamber of Penitence. Do you wish to enter?"

The lips closed again, and the amazing azure eyes continued to regard the two wizards in silence.

Fascinated, Faegan floated closer to the beautiful, dark face. "Yes," he said simply. "We wish to enter."

The stone lips parted again. "And do you both know that there is a psychic price to be paid for what can be learned here? Be warned, for it may be a demand that your human minds find too dear to survive."

"What is this psychic price?" Faegan asked.

"That is not my place to say," she answered softly. "The watchwoman of the gardens will tell you more, should I deign to let you enter."

"And how may we enter?" Wigg asked.

"You must pass my test," she answered. The beautiful face remained expressionless. "I must first be sure that you are not practitioners of the Vagaries. The knowledge kept within must never be allowed to pass into the hands of those who would prefer to practice the darker aspects of the craft."

For the first time she showed emotion, her lips turning up slightly at the corners. "There is still so much neither of you understand about the craft, or the true history of this land," she answered softly.

His eyes gleaming with curiosity, Faegan leaned forward in his chair. "Tell us more," he implored. "I beg you."

"No," she answered. "Educating you is not my mission. It is now time for you to be tested."

"What is it we must do?" Wigg asked.

"Nothing," she answered. "I shall do it all. Each of you please expose one of your wrists."

Wigg and Faegan did as she asked. Almost immediately the familiar, azure glow of the craft coalesced around their bare wrists. In each, a small incision appeared painlessly, allowing a single drop of blood to escape. As the incisions closed and the azure glow disappeared, the two blood droplets, hovering in the air, immediately began twisting into their respective blood signatures.

The eyes in the black face then narrowed slightly, and the glow of the craft appeared again, this time surrounding the two blood signatures. The signatures began to enlarge, until each of them was about two meters across in length.

Spellbound, the wizards stared in awe until the huge blood signatures faded and then disappeared.

"Clearly, you are both of the Vigors," the Stone Woman said. "So now it is time for you to decide. Do you still wish to enter this Chamber of Penitence?"

Faegan turned to the lead wizard. Wigg took a deep, apprehensive breath, then nodded. Faegan looked back into the lovely, azure eyes.

"We do," he said.

"Very well," she answered. "Behold."

Her mouth opened wider, exposing perfect, white teeth. Farther and farther her lips parted, until the opening was about two meters high. Only fathomless darkness could be seen beyond, its depths occasionally interrupted by haunting, eerie flashes of azure light, like lightning across a night sky. Then her eyes closed, and she remained still.

Faegan again looked at Wigg, who responded with a raised eyebrow. Without speaking further, the two wizards glided forward, entering the Chamber of Penitence.

From where they stood on the sea cliffs above, Ox and the other Minions of Day and Night watched in horror as the wizards disappeared into darkness and the lovely stone mouth closed behind them.

CHAPTER

Twenty-seven

"I 'm afraid, Marcus," Rebecca said quietly. "I've never done anything like this before. Are you sure this is going to work?"

She shivered in the cold of the early morning, as she held tightly onto her brother's strong, comforting hand. Her stomach growled again. She hadn't had enough to eat this morning, and this place Marcus had led her to scared her. Hoping her brother knew what he was doing, she limped alongside him through the human carnival known as Bargainer's Square.

With the demise of the Royal Guard, Bargainer's Square had become a hotbed of vice and crime. It seemed to Marcus as if all of the wicked of Eutracia had for some reason suddenly descended on this single spot. It had been Bargainer's Square where he had accidentally found himself the night he had narrowly evaded the old harlot and her partner, running for his life down the dark, lamplit street. But from that wayward experience had also come an unexpected blessing: the rug shop where he had finally stopped running to catch his breath.

He had taken little notice of it at the time, but now, two days later, he had suddenly realized how the little shop might be of great help with his problem regarding the scroll. And so he had visited the shop once it was open and had formulated his plan. Yesterday he had brazenly stolen the contents of the canvas bag now slung over his shoulder. Today he would act. Looking into 'Becca's trusting brown eyes, he gave her an encouraging smile.