He was very pleased that Tristan and Celeste had married. But his heart was troubled over his daughter's worsening condition. He could see the changes rapidly taking place, and it was breaking his heart.

He had much to worry him. Jessamay had told him all she knew about the Well of Forestallments, but it wasn't much. The two of them had pored over parts of Failee's grimoire to learn the secret of Jessamay's altered blood signature, an aberration they were sure was of immense importance to the craft. And in his heart he was equally sure that the Orb of the Vigors continued its rampage across Eutracia. He could only hope that Faegan and the other members of the Conclave were having a better time of things.

He shook his head. It was all such a great riddle-the craft, Eutracia, Parthalon, the two orbs, and most certainly the possibility of Wulfgar's survival. Some of these puzzles were new, and some far, far older than he. He had already lived for more than three hundred years, been instrumental in the victory in the Sorceresses' War, and personally overseen the births of the Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou. Even so, sometimes he felt much more like a pawn in this amazing confluence of riddles than he did a figure of any great importance.

He finally reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the first room. The silence was deafening. He stopped in the second room and looked around. He was relieved to see that everything was as he hoped it would be.

He produced the parchment and read aloud the incantation recorded on it in Old Eutracian, copied from Failee's grimoire.

A haunting azure cloud began to form in the air before him. When he finished the recitation, he rolled up the parchment and put it away.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the First Wizard took a deep breath. This would have to be done very carefully. He removed the canteen from around his neck.

The cloud beside him, Wigg set about his work.

"Bind his hands," Abbey ordered. "we can't afford to trust him."

She looked respectfully at the two Minion warriors who had volunteered to enter the maze with the Valrenkian. Many had stepped forward; choosing two who might well be going to their deaths in the maze had not been a pleasant task. She hadn't been around their race for long, but she knew one thing for certain: the Minion warriors-both the males and the females-were the bravest, most selfless souls she had ever encountered.

Sister Adrian stood next to her before the entrance to the bluffs. Wall torches lit the hall into the maze, their combined glow streaming out of the square-cut entrance and into the night. The Minion phalanx that had accompanied the two women to Valrenkium stood nearby, watching, alert.

One of the warriors bound Uther's hand behind him. The Valrenkian seethed quietly.

When Abbey was satisfied that Uther was bound securely, she called for an unlit torch. A warrior came running with one and she handed it to the first of the volunteers.

"The torches in the maze are supposedly enchanted to burn forever," she said, "and Uther cannot use the craft. But take this along, just in case. Do you have flint and steel?''

The warrior nodded.

"Then it's time to go. Faegan and your fellow troops await you on the other side. Don't forget to make a distinct mark on the wall at every turn." She gently touched each Minion on the arm. "May the Afterlife be with you both."

The two volunteers nodded. With a dark smile, the first drew his dreggan and placed the tip against Uther's back.

"Move," he ordered gruffly.

But Uther turned to look at Abbey and Adrian. "Goodbye, you bitches of the Vigors," he snarled. "When we meet in the Afterlife, beware of me. I'll be waiting."

Abbey hesitated for a moment. Uther's words were unsettling-even more, she thought, than he intended them to be-but there could be no turning back now.

"If for any reason he refuses to do as he's told, kill him," she told the warriors.

The one holding the dreggan nodded. Then he poked Uther in the back, and the three of them entered the maze.

Abbey and Adrian walked to the entrance and watched the Valrenkian and the warriors grow smaller as they headed down the wide, high tunnel. When they arrived at the first intersection, Uther turned right. Nothing happened. The warrior without the sword used his dagger to mark the wall, and all three disappeared around the corner.

Adrian looked anxiously over at the herbmistress. "Is this really going to work?" she asked.

Abbey shook her head. "I have no idea. But it's too late to second-guess ourselves now." She cast her gaze toward the litter nearby. "Time for us to go back to Faegan," she said. Then she thought for a moment.

"Leave a dozen warriors here," she ordered Ottikar. "If Uther should somehow come back out the way he went in, I want him intercepted."

Ottikar clicked his heels. "As you wish," he answered.

Abbey and Adrian got into the litter. From where they sat they could hear Ottikar relaying Abbey's orders. Twelve warriors stepped forward to guard the entrance to the maze.

Bearers took up the litter and lifted it into the night sky. As the rest of the phalanx took flight, Ottikar led everyone back to the opposite side of the bluffs. the warrior holding the sword to Uther's back was named Agrippa; the other was Flavius. They had been following the Valrenkian for nearly an hour, and so far everything had been quiet. Uther had not turned around or spoken since they had entered the tunnel, and he had successfully negotiated more than a dozen intersections. Flavius had marked the wall at each turn.

It was deathly silent here, the only sound that of their boot heels echoing against the cold sandstone floor. The enchanted wall torches were spaced about every twenty meters and gave off a deceivingly welcoming glow. As he wondered how many more intersections might await them, Agrippa shook his head. Asking the Valrenkian would do no good, for lying was his way of life.

As the three of them approached another intersection, Uther paused and looked around. There were seven different tunnels to choose from this time. Each branched off in a different direction, their torchlight enticing the travelers to enter.

Uther finally made his choice and began walking down one of the tunnels. The warriors held their breath. Nothing happened.

Agrippa gave Flavius a nod, and they continued on. "what's taking them so long?" Adrian asked. from her place atop the bluffs she looked down through the latticework at Faegan. "Do you think something has happened?"

Taking a deep breath, the wizard shook his head. "I can't be sure, but I doubt it," he answered. "I think that if the craft were to strike them, it would by necessity be strong enough that we would either hear what was happening or see flashes of azure. As for how long it is taking, remember that they are walking a maze. By definition a maze takes much longer to traverse than if one were simply walking in a straight line. We must be patient."

Faegan rubbed his face with both hands. He was trying his best not to show it, but he was worried. If the Valrenkian failed them in negotiating the maze, how could the accuracy of his map be trusted?

It was nearly midnight, and the cloudless sky was filled with countless tiny stars. Other than when someone spoke, the only sounds were the calls of the various night creatures. Faegan found the stillness and the waiting frustrating.

Shifting in his chair, he sighed and looked up at Duvessa. Smiling as best she could, she placed one hand upon the ancient wizard's shoulder. Flavius and Agrippa walked side by side behind uther. Agrippa still held his sword, while Flavius clutched his dagger and the unlit torch. Two more hours had passed, during which Uther had successfully navigated at least eighteen more intersections. Since they had entered the maze, he had neither turned around, nor spoken to them. At every turn, Flavius had dutifully marked the walls.