CHAPTER

Forty-one

F aegan, alone and desperately worried, sat in the small boat by the shore. The oppressive silence of the stone chamber only added to his anxiety. Ever since Wigg and the watchwoman had disappeared into the tunnel, Faegan had been overtaken by a nearly crippling sense of dread. A long time had passed since they had walked away and left him here-at least it felt like a long time. Here, alone in this tomb of rock, time had no meaning.

He looked back across the lake at the latticed floating gardens and the azure waters that flowed so peacefully down out of the wall above them. Such an amazing manifestation of the craft, he thought. But would Wigg survive his ordeal, so that they might finally go home and make use of the garden's secrets? Or would he never see his friend the lead wizard again?

Faegan turned back to face the tunnel entrance, and his sharp eyes finally caught some movement. He froze. It was the returning watchwoman. In her outstretched arms she carried the body of the lead wizard.

Faegan's breath caught in his throat. Wigg's face was blanched, and his arms dangled. His head hung to one side; his slack, open mouth was flecked with foam. Faegan immediately levitated his chair over the side of the boat and came to sit before the watchwoman. She laid Wigg down in the sand before him.

"Your friend lives," she said, "but barely. He is one of the very few to have ever survived the psychic price demanded. His regrets run deep, but his heart and blood are of great goodness. It was that goodness which sustained him through his travails."

Faegan reached down to touch his friend's cold forehead. Closing his eyes, he called on the craft. Wigg's heartbeat was faint, and his mind had gone deep. Faegan looked back up at the robed apparition.

"Will he recover?"

"His blood is strong," she answered. "In time, he should return to normalcy. But his soul will forever wear the imprint of what happened to him this day." Raising her hand, she indicated that Faegan should levitate the lead wizard back into the boat.

He did so, guiding Wigg's body to lie on one of the seats. Then, once Faegan also entered the boat, the watchwoman took up her place in the stern and used her staff to push the craft toward the opposite shore. She beached the vessel near the floating gardens and then turned to him.

"It is time to grant what you came for, wizard," she said calmly. "Leave your friend here, and follow me."

Levitating his chair, Faegan followed her as she slowly climbed one of the stone paths that wound its way up and around the latticed, glowing pools. He could hardly contain his excitement at the mesmerizing sight.

Every herb of the craft seemed to be represented here, plus a great many that he had never seen before. Looking closer at the surface of one of the pools, he saw such esoteric plants as muscle root, gingercrinkle, blossom of malcathion, and even a smattering of the very rare everscent. Finally the watchwoman stopped her climb beside one of the largest of the glowing ponds. Faegan lowered his chair.

"Was all this left here by the Ones?" he asked.

"All things of magic are a direct result of either the Ones or the Heretics," she answered simply. "Or of what came even before them-namely the two glowing orbs of the craft. The bright, golden Orb of the Vigors and the dark, sizzling Orb of the Vagaries forever power the twin but opposite sides of magic, always attracting each other, but never touching. Surely by now you have learned to call them into your presence, and have witnessed their majesty and power. Nonetheless there remains much for you to learn. Not only of the craft, but of those masters and their orbs who were here so long before you."

Faegan bent over to study the pool. "And the items I require to separate my herbs, roots, blossoms, and oils-are they here in this pool?" he asked. There were several beautiful plants lying atop the water. But despite his great knowledge, he had to admit that he had never seen any of them before. He could feel the water calling out to his endowed blood. Even as learned and disciplined as he was, he found its allure intoxicating, its entreaty irresistible. His breath coming quickly, his mind nearly overcome, he let his hand creep closer to the pool.

"Stop, you fool!" the watchwoman screamed, just as his fingers were about to break the surface of the water. With amazing speed and surprising strength, she grabbed his wrist with her white, lifeless hand. Stunned, he looked up into the dark, faceless hood.

"What's wrong?" he asked thickly.

Letting go of him, she raised the bones of her hand directly before his eyes.

"Tell me, wizard," she said caustically, "how do you suppose I came to be this way? Do you wish to suffer the same fate?"

And then he understood. The azure waters here in the Chambers of Penitence were so powerful that they were literally toxic, and eons ago her endowed blood had caused her to succumb to the same temptations he had just experienced. She had paid for her mistake with the flesh of her hands, perhaps even with that of her entire body. And so the Ones had somehow asked that she stay here for eternity, to help safely guide other supplicants in their quests.

Saddened for her and humiliated for himself, he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't understand."

"Nor did I, once," she answered back. For a few moments the only sound was the trickling of the water into the glowing pools.

"This is indeed the pool that holds what you require," she finally said. "But for obvious reasons, it shall be neither you nor I who harvest it."

She raised both her staff and her free hand into the air. "Come to me, my pretties," she ordered.

Faegan heard a grating sound coming from the wall behind them. As he turned to look, he saw that one of the holes in the wall had stopped pouring forth its water and was widening dramatically, until it was a full meter in diameter.

A bird popped its head out of the hole, cautiously looked around, and finally took to the air. Three more appeared, and they began to circle overhead. Faegan watched, spellbound. He had never seen anything like them.

The multicolored birds glowed with the azure of magic. Their necks were long and graceful, as were their wide, brightly feathered tails. They stood on long, spindly legs, like storks, but their shiny bodies were more compact, and their feet were webbed and yellow, like those of a duck. They had gullets beneath their long, wide bills, such as one might see on birds that lived near the ocean and fed on fish. The watchwoman slowly lowered her hands. As she did, the creatures landed gently, one by one, next to Faegan's chair and stood there obediently, as if waiting for the watchwoman to speak.

But she did not utter a word. Instead, she pointed to the pool and the birds walked into it and began to swim carefully through the plants, using their long, wide bills to harvest leaves and flowers and stems. Faegan marveled at their quiet, elegant efficiency.

Reaching into her robe, the watchwoman produced a glass vial with a hinged top. Opening it, she handed it down to one of the birds. The bird took it into its bill, the open side of the vial facing away from its head. Then it dipped the vial into the water, collecting the light green oil that lay in another part of the pool.

After a little while, the birds made their way back out of the glowing pool and, one by one, came to drop their treasures at the wizard's feet. With a sure, slow motion of its head, the bird that had collected the oil put down the vial and shut the lid with its bill.

Smiling broadly, Faegan looked back up at the watchwoman. "How is it that they are not affected by the waters, as you were?"

"Simple," she replied. "They are a product of the Ones, placed here for just this purpose. After my tragedy, the Ones conjured them and left them here to help me harvest the bounty of the floating gardens. They have been my only companions ever since." She then looked back at them and nodded.