The fifth sorceress, p.13
The Fifth Sorceress, page 13
The old wizard began to steel his mind for what he knew must come next. These wizards have been my friends for centuries, he thought sadly. How do I tell them this? I beg the Afterlife, how will the king react to such news of his own son?
Controlling his composure as best he could, he decided there was no other way to say it. Looking at each of them in turn, he simply said, ‘I am certain beyond a doubt that Prince Tristan has discovered and entered the Caves of the Paragon.’
First came a deathly silence. But soon after it was replaced by the highly uncustomary sound of disorganization as the five wizards urgently began to talk to each other in a loud confusion of various conversations. Wigg was about to raise his voice and silence them when suddenly the flat of Nicholas’s hand pounded so hard and loud upon the table next to the ax that the gruesome weapon bounced several inches into the air, then landed back on the table, silencing them all.
The king was trembling in a combination of rage and fear. His last reserve of patience regarding his son was obviously gone, at least for today. The room was once again awash in a tense silence that seemed to permeate everyone and everything in it.
‘Wigg, please tell me, how is it that you know this?’ Nicholas asked. His normally strong voice was a barely audible whisper.
‘Regrettably, Sire, there can again be no mistake. Even before I encountered the prince this afternoon, I could sense that something in his blood had changed, and the feeling became even stronger as the princess and I came closer to him. Then when he came out of the woods into full view I knew for certain. The azure glow is all about him, make no mistake, and it is a particular glow my eyes have not seen since the day of his birth. And until today I had not seen an azure aura that bright since the night I shattered the bowl to seal the fates of the sorceresses of the Coven.’ This is the first time the sorceresses have been openly spoken of among ourselves in over three centuries, he thought. How strange it all seems to have them suddenly thrust into our thoughts once again.
He looked at the other wizards and saw that tears filled the eyes of some. The two who remained the most composed, Maaddar and Tretiak, sat looking down at their hands, presumably to spare their king any further embarrassment. Wigg could always count on Tretiak.
Nicholas sat back heavily into his chair, and it was apparent to all that the weight of the world had just landed upon his shoulders. Inwardly Wigg winced at the thought of the additionally unsettling information that he must now put before them all. Salt into the wounds, he thought. He got up from his chair and stood behind it, placing his hand on top of the chair back where his name had been so intricately carved into the wood.
‘I am sorry to have to inform everyone here that there is still more to tell you.’ Anyone looking hard enough would have been able to see the muscles in his jaw clenching. ‘The prince’s clothes are stained in red. The red. Again, I am sad to say that there can be no mistake. I believe he has either bathed in or at the very least washed some parts of himself in the water of the stone pool. I need tell no one in this room that these actions are without precedent. We are truly walking into the unknown, and we have been innocently led there by one of endowed blood whom we all love very much.’ He paused and gazed directly at the king, so that Nicholas could not escape his meaning. ‘We must all try to remember that sentiment in the difficult days ahead.’ As he had hoped, he saw the king’s countenance begin to soften.
‘Unfortunately, we must also assume that Tristan has seen, if indeed did not also try to enter, the Tunnels of the Ones Who Came Before,’ he continued. His brow furrowed. ‘Have any of the members of the Directorate felt a disturbance in the wizard’s warp that guards the tunnels’ entrance?’ None of the wizards spoke. ‘Good. However, it must be said that this afternoon I myself felt a definite shudder against the warp at the gateway to the tunnel. Perhaps I felt it only due to my closer proximity to the Caves. But I can also tell you with certainty that the tunnel portal has not been breached. The Tome is intact.’
‘Wigg,’ Nicholas began again, ‘will the azure glow be about him always?’ There was both concern and a bit of uncharacteristic timidity in the usually commanding voice.
‘No, Your Highness,’ Wigg said with compassion. ‘I am pleased to say that the aura will be gone from him in a few days. I do not believe that it can remain without repeated visits to the Caves. And I’m sure everyone agrees that under no circumstances can the prince return there.’
Wigg laced his long, ancient fingers together upon the back of the chair. ‘It is also a good thing that no one other than myself will be able to discern the glow. Even the prince himself cannot see it. We should, therefore, be able to contain the secret among the men in this room. The unenlightened populace and even the rural wizards would never understand its meaning. And any explanation might cause only misunderstanding, perhaps even alarm and riot.’
Egloff had a question. ‘Does Tristan now illustrate an even greater interest in the craft?’ he asked. ‘For as long as I can remember, we in this room have been of the opinion that touching the water in an uncontrolled manner may unleash a desire to learn such as we have never seen. If I am not mistaken, I believe the Tome itself makes mention of it.’ A smallish man who was always concerned with details, Egloff placed the ends of his thumb and middle finger of one hand against either side of his long nose and closed his eyes, his mind already deep into his unparalleled memory of the Tome. After observing his knowledge and eccentricities for over 300 years, the other wizards knew it best to allow him to think without interruption. Egloff was known among them as the Master of the Tome, and if any one of them knew the answer to a question about the great book, it would be him.
‘Yes,’ he said, finally breaking the silence and opening his eyes. ‘I remember now. The Tome does indeed mention it in one of the later chapters of the Vigors. Tell us, Wigg, does the hunger burn as bright in his eyes as the Tome foretells?’
‘This, my friends, was the last thing that it was my unfortunate duty to tell you,’ Wigg said slowly. ‘Yes, his eyes are alive with it. Just as his mind is alive with forming questions and his tongue is equally alive with asking them. And given the nature of his birth, I fear that this, unlike the aura, will not go away anytime soon. He may become completely unmanageable. Perhaps he has even done irreparable harm to himself. Only time will tell.’
The Lead Wizard took a long, deep breath. Once again he searched the king’s face for a clue as to how Nicholas would deal with all of this. There was only one thing to do, of course, and each wizard in the room knew it.
‘Sire,’ Wigg said gently, ‘I feel it is time that we addressed Tristan directly. He is, of course, your son and your blood, but I believe I speak for the Directorate and for the nation as a whole when I say that Tristan must be forbidden to go near the Caves. We must also take the responsibility of watching him very carefully until the coronation.’
The path was obvious, but ultimately the decision had to be Nicholas’s. Wigg remained silent, as did the other wizards, waiting for the hopefully inevitable order.
Nicholas drew himself up in his throne once again, his regal posture reinstated, and looked Wigg in the eye.
‘Lead Wizard,’ he said quietly, ‘go and bring the prince to us.’
Without speaking Wigg stood, turned on his heel, and began walking to the door.
Still seated in the supplicant’s chair, Tristan wasn’t aware of anyone behind him until he felt the tap on his right shoulder. He turned around to see Wigg standing over him. He had neither heard nor seen Wigg’s approach. Most times, people never did.
‘Your father has summoned you to appear before himself and the Directorate,’ the wizard said. Tristan looked glumly up into Wigg’s unforgiving gaze, knowing there was no way out.
Tristan’s heart sank. ‘What about the inspection ceremony?’ he countered. ‘Don’t we all have to appear very soon in the Great Hall?’ It wasn’t much of an excuse to get out of the meeting, but it was all he could think of.
‘The ceremony can come later,’ the old one said. ‘And will, make no mistake. But this comes first. Besides, how do you think it could be held without you, your father, and the Directorate?’
Tristan glumly accepted his fate and rose to his feet. He had taken only one step toward the double mahogany doors when he heard the old wizard call out to him again.
‘We’re not going that way,’ Wigg said. He blatantly looked the prince up and down, noticing how much dirtier Tristan had become. Tristan’s appearance would do nothing to improve the king’s mood. ‘Follow me and be quiet. Try not to live up to any of our expectations.’ The wizard turned away from the direction of the double doors and began to walk out of the Chamber of Supplication in the opposite direction, with the glum-looking prince of all Eutracia in tow.
After crossing the rose-colored marble floor of the chamber, they entered the hall outside. People were still scurrying about in preparation for the ceremony, and upon seeing Wigg many of them lowered their heads and gave him a wide berth. But the Lead Wizard seemed to take no notice of anyone at all as he led Tristan farther and farther down the long marble hall, finally turning into an area that was relatively unknown to the prince.
Wigg finally stopped before a heavy wooden door decorated with brass trim. The old wizard narrowed his eyes, and Tristan could hear the insides of the door lock turn over once, then twice more. Wigg opened the door and walked through, beckoning Tristan to follow him into what appeared to be a large oak-paneled library, complete with many book-lined shelves and writing desks. Each of the desks held an oil lamp and was surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs. It occurred to the prince that he had never seen this room before, but then again there were many in the huge palace he had not seen. He shrugged. To him, it was just one more that he could cross off his list of unknowns. The old wizard shut the door and once again narrowed his eyes as the prince heard the lock secure itself. Somehow the knowledge came to Tristan that probably only a wizard could ever open that door.
Wigg crossed the stone floor to one of the many decorative oak panels that lined the right-hand wall. He reached up and placed the first two fingers of each hand upon four knots that Tristan had taken to be part of the decorative woodwork. The old one closed his eyes, then almost immediately opened them again and stepped back from the wall. To Tristan’s amazement the entire paneled section began to revolve slowly and silently on a pivot that apparently ran vertically through its left side, revealing a dimly lit entranceway.
‘Don’t just stand there with your mouth open, or you’ll catch dragonflies,’ the wizard said in a castigating tone. ‘Follow me.’ Wigg walked into the entranceway to the right of the pivot and was gone.
Tristan crossed the library and looked into the entranceway. There he saw Wigg impatiently waiting for him in yet another oak-paneled room. Lit by a single wall sconce containing an oil lamp, the room was only about the size of a scullery maid’s broom closet. After testily beckoning Tristan forward, Wigg reached to his right and pulled a tasseled velvet cord that hung through a hole in the corner of the ceiling. The revolving door dutifully swung shut.
Almost immediately the prince felt his knees buckle slightly. He had the distinct feeling that he was falling, although looking down he could see that he was still standing firmly upon the floor of the little room. But despite the fact that neither he nor anything else in the room seemed to be moving, he was still sure he somehow detected the presence of motion. He smirked at Wigg. ‘More magic, Lead Wizard?’ he asked.
Wigg could not help but let a small smile escape past his prickly demeanor. ‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘Rather, this is a new invention, courtesy of the Directorate. It works on hydraulics. Water power, not magic. One of Wizard Maaddar’s hobbies. He likes to call it the gravitating chamber.’ His smile faded as he gave Tristan a more controlled look. ‘As I might have thought you would have learned today, magic isn’t the answer to everything. True, we are moving. Downward. Several stories below the level of the palace.’ He paused. ‘You are sworn to secrecy about anything and everything you may see or hear from this point forward, including the presence of this moving room.’ He turned his attention once again forward to the paneled door before them.
‘But there is nothing below the first floor in this section of the palace,’ Tristan said. ‘All of the subterranean floors such as the kitchen, the sculleries, and the servants’ quarters are elsewhere, far from here.’ He was sure of it. He had, after all, lived here all of his life.
Just after he finished speaking, the strange sensation of moving without going anywhere suddenly stopped, and the oak-paneled door began to pivot open again.
As it opened wider, the old wizard gestured toward the opening and blandly said, ‘Nothing below this section of the palace, eh? Really? Why don’t you try telling them that?’
Tristan found himself staring through the open door into a world he had never known existed. He was dumbfounded. He looked back at the wizard in dis-belief, but the old one simply walked out through the door ahead of him, motioning for the prince to follow.
They were standing in some sort of circular underground courtyard. It was constructed of the most beautiful light blue Ilendium marble he had ever seen. It appeared to be some sort of central crossroads for at least a dozen or more seemingly endless hallways that led off it at regular intervals like spokes from the hub of a wagon wheel. It was amazing. And the place was full of wizards. There were young ones, old ones, thin ones, and fat ones, but he noticed that although they were all dressed in the customary plain gray wizard’s robes, none of them had the wizard’s tail of braided hair that usually fell down the back of the neck.
He of course was familiar with all of the wizards of the Directorate, just as everyone in the kingdom was, even if only by name. But other than Wigg he saw none of them in this room. He could only reason that since he had never seen any of these other men before and because they had no wizard’s tails, they therefore must be the lesser rural wizards from around the realm that Wigg had mentioned. But he had no idea that there had ever been so many of them, and had no clue what they were all doing here. Each seemed to be quietly going about his own business, some in hushed conversation, and some simply passing through on the way down to another hall. None took any particular notice of the visitors except for the occasional bow of respect to Wigg.
‘Wigg, where are we?’ Tristan asked, his voice barely audible. He stood transfixed. Never in his life had he experienced such an amazing day as this. He wasn’t sure that he ever wanted to again.
‘We are now standing in the crossroads of the Redoubt of the Directorate. It is a secret place of learning and respect for the craft, and for the past. I suggest you behave accordingly.’ Wigg motioned for Tristan to walk with him down one of the great hallways, and continued to speak as they went.
‘This place was constructed at the end of the Sorceresses’ War, and its purpose is the furtherance of the craft via the teachings of the Vigors.’ He turned his hawklike gaze upon Tristan. ‘You do remember the Vigors?’ he asked unnecessarily.
‘At the end of the war, the nation was in shreds,’ he went on. ‘Famine, pestilence, and crime were rampant. The legions of the Royal Guard had been virtually decimated, as had the population of wizards. At that time there was much more that needed to be done than the newly formed Directorate could accomplish on its own. The Redoubt was established by the Directorate in order to train and dispatch wizards to help bring peace and order once again to the countryside and the cities in a compassionate, rather than martial, manner. And this practice of sending forth wizards has continued ever since.’ He pushed the errant braided tail of gray hair back over a shoulder as he walked.
‘The wizards you see here have all been trained in the craft and taken the vows of the Vigors in this center of learning. When a male of endowed blood wishes to learn the craft he must always do so here, under our tutelage, so that we may make sure he is taught the Vigors only, and with the proper amount of self-control and respect for the past.’ The infamous eyebrow rose again. ‘Two things that you seem to have a distinct lack of lately.’ His gaze shifted back to the long hallway as they walked along.
‘Once they have accepted the vows and the death enchantments, they are trained in the craft. Anyone refusing to take the vows is summarily rejected. Those who do go through training are sent back into the countryside dressed as peasants. They are empowered to perform as many good deeds as they deem appropriate for the benefit of the populace at large – all within reason, of course. They must go about the rest of their lives without alerting the citizens to the fact that they are wizards. A benevolent secret society, if you will. They have nowhere near the power of a wizard of the Directorate, and it is purposely planned to be this way.’
‘But can’t the Vigors be used for selfish reasons, too?’ Tristan asked innocently. ‘Haven’t any of them ever tried?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Wigg sighed. ‘No system is perfect. But the number of consuls is very large now. When they are out in the field, they see each other often in the scheme of things. The abuse of the Vigors by one would probably come to the attention of the others. And those, in turn, would inform us – or so we would hope. Such things were known to happen in the early history of the Brotherhood, but are now very rare.’
Wigg clasped his hands behind him and looked down at the rich marble floor as they continued on along the seemingly endless hallway. ‘They are not protected by time enchantments, Tristan. They live and die just as any normal citizen of the realm would. Such wandering rural wizards are called the consuls of the Redoubt. By sending them forth in this way everyone, endowed or common, has something to gain from the craft.’
Wigg sighed, for the question was one the Directorate had long struggled with during the formation of the brotherhood of consuls. ‘To understand why we did not give them time enchantments, one must have lived through the period of war that we had,’ he answered. ‘A harsh decision – perhaps too harsh. But we were very afraid of the craft being used against us once again. Right or wrong, we of the Directorate felt that, for the safety of Eutracia, both the higher applications of the craft and the gift of the time enchantments should be kept strictly among ourselves – among only those we knew we could trust. As to whether the consuls desire time enchantments, or resent not having them, well, the only thing I can say is that if that is their motivation for joining, they join for the wrong reasons. Those who do join us, knowing the limitations about to be placed upon them, do so with a purity of heart. In short, they know the rules going in. And the Directorate may expel any who seem unfit.’
