Faegan pursed his lips. "It would explain much," he answered. "Still, that may not be the case."

"Why not?" Celeste asked.

"We believe that Wulfgar received his gifts through Forestallments," the old wizard answered, "the calculations for which came by way of the Scroll of the Vagaries. It is possible that he could also have granted Forestallments to one or more of his consuls before he came to Eutracia to destroy the orb. It could have been one such consul aboard that frigate."

He turned to Tyranny. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear," he said. "Even Wigg and I might not have been able to find that vessel, once she had vanished. Still, all of this doesn't answer the greater question, does it?"

"Why Wulfgar or one of his emissaries is really here," Shailiha said.

"It must have to do with the ruptured orb."

Despite all of their concerns, Faegan's impish, familiar smile returned. He loved nothing so much as a good riddle, especially when he was the only one holding the answer.

"Oh, really," he teased Shailiha. "And why must that be the case?"

"He has come here to complete the job he started, has he not?" Shailiha asked. "Or he is dead, and his consuls are carrying on in his stead. Either way, they mean to finish destroying the orb."

Suddenly, Tristan knew what it was that Faegan was getting at. He looked over at his twin sister.

"They don't need to destroy the orb, Shai," he said. "Don't you see? As the Orb of the Vigors continues to drip its energy across the land, it will eventually die on its own."

He looked first at Faegan, and then at Wigg. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.

"In truth, we do not know," Wigg answered. "This is a calamity that we never thought we would have to face. We cannot be sure the orb will die, or whether the energy inside of it that sustains the Vigors will replenish itself.

"Either way, Faegan and I fear that without the energy of the orb to sustain the Vigors, our side of the craft will soon cease to exist," he went on. "After all, isn't that what Wulfgar wanted all along? So you see, now the real questions become not only whether he lives, but if he does, whether he knows about the continued draining of the orb."

Looking down at the table, Wigg laced his long fingers together. A grim silence fell over the room.

Tristan looked to Faegan. "What can you tell us about the orb that might help us heal the rupture?" he asked. Despite his exhaustion, his mind was alive with questions.

But Faegan was not ready to answer. "With your permission, I think we should adjourn," he said. "Everyone is exhausted, and Wigg is injured. Besides, he and I need to research this further, if we are to give you a proper answer."

Reluctantly, Tristan nodded. "Very well," he said. "But I want everyone with the exception of Geldon to stay in the palace for now." He looked at Traax. "And I want those search parties sent out immediately. For all we know, the orb could be bearing down on Tammerland this very moment."

Traax nodded. "I live to serve," came his traditional reply.

Tristan gave Tyranny a short smile. "I trust you will not mind accepting our hospitality for a while longer," he said. Not knowing quite what to say, Tyranny smiled back.

"I have one other request," Tristan announced. He looked first at Shailiha, then at Abbey and Adrian.

"The three of you have been treating the wounded in the courtyard and the palace," he said. "Have you gotten any sense of the general feeling among them?"

"We have," Adrian answered. "Most of them remain distrustful of both us and the Minions. Frankly, I can't say I blame them."

"Precisely," Tristan said. "But I think we might be able to turn this awful situation to some useful purpose."

"What are you talking about?" Wigg asked.

"Tomorrow morning I want Shailiha, Abbey, and Adrian to try to convince as many of the refugees as possible to meet with us in the Chamber of Supplication," Tristan said. "They need to be told that the heir to the throne still lives, and that I care about them. This tragedy belongs to all of us, and I want to use it to bring us all back together again, if I can. If we can convince even a few, the word will spread. I realize it will only be a small beginning, but we must try. I want everyone in this room to be there with me."

Wigg and Faegan exchanged smiles.

"Then we are adjourned," Tristan said.

As Tristan led the way from the meeting room, Faegan silently indicated to Wigg that he wanted the First Wizard to stay behind. Wigg nodded back, and then whispered to Abbey that he would meet her later in her private quarters. Abbey was reluctant to leave him, for she was anxious to examine his wounds more closely, but she knew better than to try to change his mind.

When the two wizards were alone, Faegan came straight to the point.

"There is only one way to save the orb, you know," he said.

Wigg nodded. "The Tome states that only the Jin'Sai may heal such damage," he said. "To do that, he must first be trained. And in order for him to be trained, his blood must first be returned to its original state. Why didn't you tell him?"

Faegan sighed. "It wouldn't have been fair," he answered. "I think we owe it to him to inform him in private. I know one thing for sure, old friend. There is far more to all of this than first meets the eye."

"Wulfgar?" Wigg asked. "Do you think he is still alive?"

Faegan sat back in his chair. Wigg could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"I wish I knew, First Wizard," Faegan answered softly. "I wish I knew."

One of the hearth logs slipped down in the grate. Slowly it collapsed into charred ash while the two ancient mystics sat in silence.

Tristan entered his personal quarters, celeste right behind him. She watched fondly as he unbuckled his sword belt and baldric, and tossed his weapons onto a chair. Then the knee boots came off. In stocking feet, he walked to the windows and closed the draperies.

Celeste smiled. He was filthy from head to toe, and a dark growth of stubble covered his face, yet even so disheveled, he was still the handsomest man she had ever seen.

Returning to her side, he took her in his arms and he kissed her. Closing her eyes, she let herself luxuriate in his presence for a moment. How good it felt to have him back.

"Your time with the orb-was it as awful as Father said?" she asked. Then she saw his face fall, and she immediately regretted her question. His dark eyes looked down into hers with a terrifying sadness.

"Yes," he answered. "It was more horrible than you could possibly imagine. Even after seeing it with my own eyes, I still find it hard to believe. Right now, however, more discussion about the orb is not what I desire."

Celeste smiled mischievously. "Just what might you desire, my lord?" she asked. "Something that I, your humble servant, might be able to provide?" Then she remembered that the wizards had forbidden them to be together in that way.

"Sleep," Tristan answered, his eyes half closed. "I want to sleep for one hundred years."

He walked over to the huge four-poster bed and collapsed upon it, dirty clothes and all. Holding one arm out, he beckoned to her, and she went to lie beside him, her head on his chest. In the silence of the room, she could hear the comforting beat of his heart. Then she realized that there might be no better time to tell him what she must.

"Tristan," she whispered. "There is something that you need to know." Raising her head, she looked into his face. His eyes were already closed.

"Tristan?" she asked softly.

No answer came. Her prince was asleep.