After nodding to his captain and casting a questioning glance at the prince, Scars left the cabin, closing the door behind him. A combination of anger and confusion crossed Tristan's face.

"What is this Isle of Sanctuary you are taking us to, eh?" he protested. "I, for one, have never heard of it!"

"You can still trust me, I swear it," Tyranny assured him. "Our bargain remains intact. The reason you have never heard of the Isle of Sanctuary is because it is a secret, known only to a very few."

"Enlighten me," he said shortly.

Tyranny took another sip of wine. "Please go to my desk and bring me back my charts."

Tristan skeptically did as she asked, placing the parchments on her lap. Rifling through them, she finally selected one and spread it out.

"We are here," she said, pointing to a section of the chart displaying open sea. "Or at least that's where we were when we were attacked. Dead on course for the delta, just as I had agreed. Our current position has no doubt changed a bit since we have been adrift. But not by much, since the winds have remained light. Anyway, the Isle of Sanctuary is not far off our direct course to the delta. Look."

Running one finger west toward the Cavalon Delta, she stopped it near a small island shaped like a long, crooked finger. According to the scale it was about four leagues long by two wide. Several natural harbors indented its coast. It was drawn in a darker ink, as if it had recently been added to her map.

"I give you the little-known Isle of Sanctuary," she said. "Scars added it from memory."

"But how is that possible?" Tristan asked. "And why must we go there?"

Sitting back, she looked him in the eyes. "You say that two of your wizards still live?" she asked.

"Yes. Wigg, the onetime lead wizard of the Directorate. And his friend Faegan, from Shadowood. What of it?"

"Because your Directorate, or should I say what's left of it, is supposedly responsible for the isle's existence," she answered cautiously. "Or so the legend goes."

Tristan sat back in his chair. "Even if what you say is true, why must we go there?" he asked. "Why can't we just set a course straight for the delta?"

Tyranny took another puff of smoke and let it out slowly. "There is still a great deal of sea between us and home," she answered. "Much of it is known to be infested with screechlings, as well as slaver ships. Provided we can pay the price, we should be able to procure both spars and sailcloth on the isle. Like it or not, we need those to get to the delta in one piece. Even with our layover, and taking into consideration the time it will take to make our final repairs, we will still arrive at the delta faster than if we simply continued to plow along in our current state. You must trust me on this. I know what I'm talking about."

Her face grew dark again, and she reached out, taking his hands into hers. It was the first time she had ever done so. "I don't like the idea of taking us there, either. I would never have given such an order unless it was absolutely necessary. Nor would Scars have suggested it, brave as he is. It's a very dangerous place. During previous visits there I have always lost good people-crew who chose to stay on the isle, rather than return to the sea with me. I wouldn't like to lose any more of them to that place, but those here with me are here of their own free will. What will be will be." She looked away for a moment. "But there is also a personal reason why I avoid visiting the isle…"

Seemingly resigned to her decision, she looked back at him. The commanding eyes of the daring privateer had somehow transformed into those of a lovely, desirable woman who suddenly seemed quite vulnerable in his presence.

"You must believe me," she said, gently but insistently. "At this point, everyone on The People's Revenge wants to get home as quickly as you do. But we must have the necessary sails to speed our ship, or we may never make it at all." A small smile crossed her lips. "Unless you'd like to row again, of course."

Tristan found his mood softening. Nonetheless, his mind was still full of unanswered questions. "But why do you say that this place has to do with the wizards?" he asked. "How could you possibly know that? Why is it so dangerous? Why did some of your men choose to stay there?"

She gave a short laugh. "You sound like a schoolboy!"

Tristan felt his face flush with embarrassment.

Suddenly the commanding, calculating expression returned to her blue eyes, and she let go of his hands. "No more questions now," she said. "The Isle of Sanctuary is but one day's sail from here, even in our current condition. You will have all of your answers soon enough. Now please help me up. I'm still dizzy, but I must get topside and look over my ships." The wry smile came again. "The crewmembers need to know their captain is still able to pull her own weight."

Standing, Tristan reached down to help her. As she rose to meet him, she winced at a pain in her left thigh and stumbled against him. For a long, uncomfortable moment, they stared into each other's eyes. Then he turned and helped her up the stairway to go look over her crippled ships.

It would be a depressing sight.

CHAPTER

Thirty-four

A s Wigg and Faegan followed the ancient watchwoman through the portal, they were engulfed in darkness again, save for the light that came from the Paragon hanging around Faegan's neck. Then the watchwoman stopped. Without turning around she raised one white, fleshless hand in a gesture of warning.

"Follow my footsteps exactly, and do not stray from the path," she ordered. "The fall on either side is endless."

She set off again, tapping her wooden staff against either edge of the stony path as she went along. Tentatively, the wizards followed behind her in single file. Fog loomed up on all sides, and the air was so cold that the wizards could see their breath streaming out before them. Although their minds were still brimming over with questions, neither of them spoke.

At one point, Faegan produced a gold coin from the pocket of his robe and tossed it over the side of the path. Using the craft, he trebled his wizard's hearing and waited for the sound.

None came.

After that, both wizards picked their steps with even greater care.

Finally the watchwoman stopped and indicated that it was safe for the wizards to come up alongside her. When they did, she raised her hands.

Radiance stones lining the ceiling immediately began to glow with sage light. As they grew in brightness, the light from the Paragon faded, until at last the jewel returned to its normal state.

Faegan and Wigg saw that they were standing in a very large cavern. Within the boundaries of its walls lay a small lake, its waters glowing with the hue of the craft. Fog steamed up from the lake surface and encroached onto the jagged shoreline.

All around the lake rose tall, black rocks whose slick sides shimmered in the glow from the lake. On the edge of the shore lay a small rowboat. There were no oars to be seen. A slight breeze rippled the water and rustled the wizards' hair; it felt good on their faces.

Looking out at the azure lake, Wigg was reminded of the azure waters he had seen in the Caves of the Paragon, just before he and Tristan had been bled and taken to Ragnar, Nicholas' servant. He wondered how it was that such waters could exist here, as well.

Without speaking, the watchwoman walked to the boat, pushed it into the water, and climbed into its stern. Raising her staff, she then beckoned the two wizards forward to join her. After exchanging a quick, questioning look with Faegan, Wigg stepped into the boat first. Then Faegan levitated his chair up and over the side, joining him.