AS A HANDMAIDEN PULLED A TORTOISESHELL HAIRBRUSHthrough Serena’s dark ringlets, the queen of the Vagaries looked down at her dressing table. Her withered red rose lay before her. Raising her head to stare out her sitting room window, she saw that the dark sea was calm as its waves gently lapped against the rocky shore. The sky was clear, its endless stars twinkling brightly.
But she knew that this peacefulness would soon change. A war was coming-one that would finally end the Vigors for all time. Its stentorian call would come the day the Conclave sailed for the scroll. They had no choice but to try.
She smiled. The prize the Conclave sought was no longer on the Citadel’s shores. They would waste their efforts, their forces, and their Black Ships, giving Einar and Reznik more time to succeed in their orders. For now she would obey the Heretics’ orders and remain on the island to guard the Citadel and her lifeless child. Looking into the mirror, she reached up to touch the handmaiden’s wrist.
“That will be all,” she said. “You may retire.”
The servant placed the hairbrush atop the dressing table and bowed. “As you wish, mistress,” she said. Leaving the queen’s chambers, she closed the door behind her. Serena again looked out over the sea.
As she thought about Wulfgar, tears came. She had loved him more than life. Even though she was the Citadel’s undisputed ruler and she commanded many souls, she felt desperately alone. These chambers had provided her and her husband with many happy moments. Clarice had been conceived in these rooms. But now these chambers represented only loneliness. Instead of a family’s laughter, only silence reigned.
The fact that all those living on the island with her were mere servants only added to her isolation. They were needed to achieve her goals, but they meant nothing more to her than that-especially the crude Valrenkians. She looked forward to the day when the Heretics’ triumph would be complete, and she could kill the inferior partial adepts. There would be no room for half-breeds in the new order. But until then she needed them, so she would wait. Victory would also bring the Heretics’ total dominion over the known world, and they had promised that she would rule all the lands east of the Tolenkas. Eager for her prize, she relished the possibilities such an august position offered.
Even so, with Einar, Reznik, and all her envelopers gone, she had growing concerns about how her island was to be defended. The Heretics had told her that when the time was right, she would be informed. But it had been days since they last revealed themselves to her mind. Their continued silence increased her restlessness.
Thinking, she lovingly took up the dead rose. The Citadel’s defense would be explained to her soon, she knew. Until then she had to be patient, and trust in the Heretics’ infinite wisdom.
She detested this benign calmness before the storm, for it did nothing except accentuate her solitude. On Wulfgar’s death, at first her heart believed that what little they had shared would last a lifetime. Their love had been that strong, that deep, that rooted in common goals. At first, she had been right.
But as her life became taken up with honoring the Heretics’ wishes, other needs resurfaced. She soon missed more than Wulfgar’s leadership. She yearned for the commanding way that he had always taken her. Her psyche needed it, longed for it, and demanded it. But there was no one here worthy of granting such intimacies to a widowed queen.
Then she remembered the spell that Einar had told her about, just before leaving the Citadel. Because of its highly intimate nature, at first he hadn’t known whether to speak of it. After careful thought he’d decided that Wulfgar would want her to have it, to do with as she pleased. And so it was with no small measure of trepidation that he had visited the queen’s private chambers to discuss it.
At first Serena was shocked by Einar’s forthrightness. He went on to say that he had happened on the unique calculations among the thousands of other spells, during his perusal of the Vagaries scroll. As she heard him out, her objections gradually softened. In the end she finally accepted the small parchment bearing the elegant symbols and numbers.
Honoring Wulfgar’s memory, she had never read the parchment. Doing so would somehow be adulterous, disrespectful, she reasoned. But as another night passed with no one to comfort her, she found herself tempted. Perhaps she would only read the formula. Surely that could do no harm. She lay down the rose and opened her inlaid jewelry box. She called the craft, then levitated the wrinkled document within into the air. With a turn of her wrist she caused the paper to unfold itself.
Bathed in the candlelight, the Old Eutracian formula appeared to have been written by a female hand. As she sat reading the calculations, she marveled at the synchronicity of events that had delivered this wonder to her.
Who was she, Serena wondered-this woman from aeons ago who had decided to add such a unique formula to the scroll? Although they speak to me, there is still so much I do not know about the Heretics. But this brilliant lady from another place and time has somehow reached out across the ages to offer up this teasing nostrum in my hour of need. Did she ever use it? Had she tragically lost her lover, as I did? Does she somehow watch me from the Afterlife even now, as I consider this temptation?
Increasingly seduced by the intriguing calculations, the queen of the Vagaries took a deep breath. Standing, she grasped the parchment from the air, then looked to the sea again. Finally she decided. Forgive me, my love, she thought.
After memorizing the formula she placed the parchment back into the box, then walked to her bed to lie down. As its lace crinkled against the bedcovers, she was reminded that she still wore her black mourning gown. Taking a deep breath, she summoned the spell.
She watched as the room’s light started to change. Unafraid, she willingly embraced the violet hue washing over her. Music came to her ears, its melodious strains permeating her psyche. Her mind started drifting pleasantly, her need quickly strengthening while her guilt at having enacted the spell strangely faded away. Soon she was possessed by a hunger even more irresistible than before.
The unexpected stirring in her loins started slowly, warmly. She wanted to reach down, but then stopped herself as she realized that there was no need, for the magic washing over her grew more enticing by the moment. As the sensation swelled she could almost feel Wulfgar holding her, taking her, whispering in her ear.
Soon her urgency reached a crescendo. Aching to be taken by it, she let the spell enslave her. The result seemed never-ending as she fell into its rapturous embrace. Crying out, she lost all track of time. It seemed the overpowering contractions might never end.
Then the spell slowly left her. The music stopped, the violet light vanished, and her heartbeat slowed. Wondrous, she thought.
The queen turned her head to one side and fell into a deep sleep.
“SERENA,”SHE HEARD THE VOICES CALL AS SHE LAY SLEEPING.“Awake to do our bidding. There is much for you to learn.”
Stirring from her sleep, she looked around. Several hours had passed, and the room’s candles had nearly burned to their bases. Calling the craft, she brought flame to three fresh ones in various places about her chambers. She left the bed and went to her knees, then bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“I am here,”she responded silently.
“The Conclave is nearly ready to sail,”the Heretics’ voices said.“Circumstances demand that you be shown how to defend the Citadel. Rise, and do as we say.”
She came to her feet.
“Go to the lowest Citadel region,”the voices commanded.“You know the place. Go alone.”
“As you wish,”she answered. She left her chambers and entered the hallway.
There were few consuls or Valrenkians about at this late hour, save for those standing guard. Her appearance surprised them. Our queen is restless this night, some thought as she walked through the shadows.
Serena entered the moonlit courtyard and trod down one of the many covered porticoes before coming to an old door. Made from solid oak, its iron cross braces were deeply layered with crimson rust. Calling the craft, she caused it to open. Its hinges protested loudly. Once she was on its opposite side she closed it again.
Remembering what the Heretics had said about coming alone, she locked the door from the inside with an especially convoluted spell. She brought light to the oil lamps lining the steps. Lifting her skirt, she started down.
Although the curved stairway seemed interminable, Serena was not afraid. She and Wulfgar had come here once before. They had been out exploring the Citadel one day soon after their marriage. On reaching the bottom they had found only an abandoned stone room. In the end their search had given them nothing but a good laugh. Unable to imagine why the Heretics would want her to go there, she dutifully continued on.
Reaching the last step, she looked around. The nondescript room was just as she remembered. Square and spacious, it was carved from the surrounding rock. There was no other way in or out besides the stairway she had exited. The room was barren save for several oil lamp sconces hanging on the four walls. A shiny metal light reflector lay attached to the wall behind each one. Waving an arm, Serena brought the lamps to life, flooding the room with a golden glow. She waited.
“Well done,”the voices said.“Walk to the wall facing you.”
She walked across the room to stand before the far wall. Like the other three, its surface was unremarkable.
“Touch the wall,”the voices said.“As you do, enact the same spell you would employ when using a visage board.”
Having spent much time in the Citadel Scriptorium, she was familiar with visage boards. Reaching out, she touched the granite wall and called the proper spell.
At once the wall’s right side started to change. The stone morphed into a smooth black visage board. As she watched in wonder, four separate formulas written in Old Eutracian rose from its depths. The azure symbols twinkled brightly against their dark background.
“Good,”the voices said.“Summon the first spell, then the second one. But never bring the third or fourth ones unless told to do so.”
Marshaling her concentration, Serena employed the first spell. Without waiting to see the results, she then called forth the second one.
“Back away from the wall,”the voices ordered her. She immediately obeyed.
The wall’s entire left side started changing. The rough granite vanished to show another dark panel, its right edge bordering the visage board. Larger than the first, this one stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Then the second spell took hold. As the black panel became transparent, a bright light appeared, illuminating the area on the panel’s opposite side.
Stunned, Serena took several steps backward. Her hands flew to cover her gaping mouth. What she saw was impossible. She was looking directly into the Sea of Whispers.
The vision before her was wondrous, overwhelming. She suddenly realized that the lengthy stairs she had descended had brought her to a place far below the ocean surface. The seafloor partly pressed against the panel’s opposite side. As the second spell brightly illuminated the depths, she stared in wonder at the sea’s untold mysteries.
The water was a brilliant blue. Fish and other exotic sea creatures swam, crawled, and scurried across the ocean floor. Their strangeness both fascinating and beautiful, most were alien to her.
Like they were being caressed by some unseen hand, undersea waves gently undulated the colorful foliage. Multicolored coral grew in abundance. Starfish and shellfish trudged slowly across the sandy bottom, while shadows created by fish swimming overhead crawled over the scene, adding to its mysterious elegance. The occasional fish, eel, or other sea creature would sometimes approach the panel and seem to stare blankly at her, only to turn and swim away again. Entranced, Serena could have stood there watching for hours.
“Four years, Serena,”the Heretics said to her.
“I don’t understand,”Serena answered.
“It took us four years to create the wonder you see before you. That is what you were wondering, is it not?”
Surprised, Serena nodded.“Yes,” she answered.
“Summon the third spell.”
Serena did so. At once the seascape started changing. The ground outside the panel rushed toward her, like she had somehow gone into the water and was sailing over the seafloor. As the journey quickened she became dizzy, even though she herself did not move. Finally the onrushing landscape slowed, then stopped to show a different underwater scene.
The seafloor had become dark and highly irregular. A high underwater cliff lay before her, its leading edge facing west. It seemed as tall as the Citadel itself before sharply dropping off into a dark infinity. Confused by what she saw, she could only look and wonder.
“The ledge you see is many leagues west of the Citadel,”the Heretics said to her.“Listen closely as we explain what happens with the fourth spell’s onset.”
As Serena listened she became astounded. Could such a thing be possible? she wondered. How could I, a far weaker craft practitioner than the Heretics, ever summon such power?
“When the time comes, all you must do is summon the last spell,”the Heretics answered.“It will then perform all that is called for to defend the Citadel. The fourth spell has never been enacted. Even so, it is as strong as the day it was first conceived. Now you may rest easier, knowing how your island home will be protected. If the time comes that the spell is needed, we will tell you.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Command the first three spells in reverse,”the voices ordered.“Return everything in this room to what it once was.”
Serena walked back to the visage board and cast the first three spells in the opposite order from which they had been summoned. The seascape rushed back to its original place on the ocean floor. Then the bright light illuminating the ocean went out and the viewing panel disappeared. Finally the visage board vanished. In their places the granite wall reappeared.
“Do you fully understand your duties?”the voices asked.“The Vagaries’ future and the Citadel’s defense might soon depend on you performing these deeds properly.”
“I understand,”she answered.“If needed, all will happen as you have ordered.”
Walking back to the stone stairway, Serena turned to take one last look. Everything about the room was just as it had been when she first arrived. Astounding, she thought.
Waving one hand she extinguished the wall sconces and started up the stairway.