"A great library was found here-only one of numerous structures. The texts within held the plans for the island. The Directorate was clearly the force behind it. The construction apparently began sometime just after the end of the Sorceresses' War. But although the buildings were finished, it seems they were never occupied."

Stunned, Tristan turned to look back out into the fog. For a moment his mind was teased by the idea that he might find the Scroll of the Vigors here, but then he quickly dismissed the notion. If the scrolls had been hidden here, Wigg and Faegan would surely know. He turned back to Tyranny.

"Tell me," he asked. "Are these records still intact?"

"As of my last visit here, yes," she answered. "The pirates have little use for such things. Many of them can't even read. But now I have a question for you. I have been sailing these waters all of my life, and I would bet my last kisa that despite the evidence contained in the library, this island did not exist until the return of the Coven. So how is it that it has so suddenly sprung up from the depths, so to speak, for the pirates to use?"

"I have no idea," Tristan replied. "All I can tell you is that the wizards often have their own inexplicable ways of doing things…" He shook his head. "But you still haven't told me your reasons for not wanting to come here," he reminded her gently.

"First of all, I always lose a number of good crewmembers to this place," she answered sadly. "The temptations here are too great for many of them to resist. That is surely the only reason my ships are allowed entry here-because I lose so many of my people to their cause. It profits the pirates to let me visit."

"If that's the case, then why do you let your crew go ashore at all?" Tristan asked.

Tyranny snorted. "It's easy to see you have never captained a sailing vessel, my dear prince," she scoffed. "Just what would you have me do to stop them, eh? You, Scars, and I certainly aren't enough to keep them from going ashore, are we? These are basically good people, Tristan, and when we are at sea, they follow my orders to the letter. But like all people they have their weaknesses, especially after having been out for weeks on end. When a vessel at sea is stopped by pirates, the crew is forced into service-they have no other option. But here, once a crewmember goes ashore and learns what Sanctuary has to offer, many of them join the pirates willingly. And the pirates are smart enough to know that someone who has joined them of his or her own accord will probably serve them better than one who has not."

Tristan shook his head. "And the other reason?" he asked gently, hoping to finally come to the heart of the matter.

"There is one here who is in charge of it all," she answered softly, sadly. "His name is Rolf of the House of Glenkinnon. At one time he worked for my father, in our fishing concern. That's how we met. Later on, he became not only my partner in my pursuit of the demonslavers, but my lover, as well. But once we found this place and he set foot ashore, all of that changed."

"Is Sanctuary really that alluring?" Tristan asked.

Tyranny nodded.

"I see," he mused. "So this man was persuaded not only to leave you, but to become an important part of what you despise. I'm sorry, Tyranny. That must have been difficult."

Turning to him, she placed a hand over his. "You must be very careful in this place, Tristan," she warned him. "My common crew are welcome, even accepted in this place. But needless to say, you look and act very different. Even though Rolf and I are no longer together, he can be insanely jealous, especially when he is drinking. We will not require his permission to buy our sails and spars from the tradesmen here. But he could just as easily tell them not to deal with us, should the mood strike him. And they would obey him without question. He rules by intimidation and is a quick and efficient killer-the best swordsman I have ever seen. So give him a wide berth, and let me do the talking. I want to be in and out of here as quickly as possible."

She allowed herself a small half smile. "Besides," she whispered, leaning in closer toward his ear, "you and I have business to conclude in Eutracia. I still haven't forgotten about my money, you know. I must admit that I gave serious thought to having Scars tie you up and then leave you aboard with the freed slaves until we could be done with our business here. That way I could have better protected my investment in you. But after coming to know you as I have, I decided that as Scars and I shopped for the things we need, we were safer with you and your strange sword than without you."

This time it was Tristan's turn to give a snort. Tyranny was nothing if not clever, he reminded himself. He turned his attention forward again. As he did, he thought he saw the fog start to thin. Then the skiff plunged headlong out the other side of it, and the Isle of Sanctuary suddenly lay before him.

CHAPTER

Thirty-eight

A s Wigg followed the watchwoman of the floating gardens down the dark, cramped tunnel, his apprehension grew. He was the lead wizard, his knowledge of the craft second only to Faegan's. As such, he normally had little to fear. But now Faegan was no longer by his side, and Wigg was alone with this strange, dark-robed creature. As she led him along he felt a sense of dread shooting up his spine, coupled with a cold, nervous sweat. As he thought about it, he didn't know which was worse: having to wait to endure the nature of the psychic price he was about to pay, or facing the possibility of dying alone in this strange underground world should he fail to withstand it.

Finally the watchwoman stopped. Coming up beside her, Wigg could see that he was at the exit to the tunnel, standing on a stone landing. A circular stairway led from the landing to a large, simple room below. The radiance stones here provided unusually soft light, making it difficult to see.

The watchwoman beckoned him onto the top step and raised her hands. Almost immediately the circular stairway started to revolve, lowering itself with each turn like a corkscrew disappearing into a cork. As he and the watchwoman neared the floor, Wigg could see that the room was carpeted in skeletons.

They lay everywhere, in no particular order. All human, of different sizes, and probably genders. And, he saw as he looked closer, they all shared one strange characteristic: every single sternum bone had been completely destroyed, as if it had been forcefully blown apart from within. In many cases the ribs had also been rent asunder, even scattered about the room, leaving gaping holes.

"What happened to them?" Wigg asked as he carefully followed the watchwoman through the shining, white skeletons.

"The answer is simple, wizard," she replied. "They failed."

"But how did they fail?" Wigg asked, hoping to gain some precious insight that might help him survive. "Did their hearts burst because they were not strong enough to withstand the regrets you forced them to relive?"

Finally, after having guided him through all of the bones, she stopped and turned to him. "I didn't force them to do anything," she answered sternly. "They came here of their own free will, hoping to acquire certain herbs and oils of the craft so that they might better protect the Vigors against the never-ending wrath of the Vagaries. And they ended up forfeiting their lives. Just as you may. And also like you, they understood that chaos is the natural order of the universe, the very principle upon which the Vagaries thrive. In their cases, chaos prevailed. You are all alike. Those of you who come here always believe that what you are about to endure is a test of the strength of your hearts. It isn't."

Puzzled, Wigg narrowed his eyes. "Then what is it that is being tested?"