No. And you have my word on it.
All right, said Kashkari. I trust you.
And I am putting our lives in your hands. Listen closely. This is what I need you to do.
Before this Helgira could pulverize him, Titus sank to one knee. Mlady, I bear a message from my lord Rumis.
He had studied Helgiras story closely before he first set out to battle her. Following his ignominious death at her hand, he had tried to forget all about her. Now, however, certain important details dropped back into his head.
Such as that for years, Helgira had carried on a secret, platonic love affair with the great mage Rumis.
Helgiras expression softened into amusement. My lord Rumis has quite the sense of humor then, sending his manservant into my bedchamber unannounced.
He has an urgent request and no time to lose.
Speak.
He asks that mlady outfit me with a steed and send me on my way.
Since he had entered this copy of the Crucible via a portal, the same rules applied. He must physically travel to the exit. A wyvern would ensure speed.
Helgira sighed. Tell your master that although his request makes little sense, I trust him too much to delay you with questions.
Thank you, mlady.
You may rise. I will have a wyvern waiting for you. Removing a cuff from her wrist, she placed it around his. And this token from me will grant you safe passage through my lands.
Titus came to his feet. Thank you, mlady. I take my leave of you.
As he reached the door, she asked, Is your master well?
He turned
around and bowed. Very well, mlady.
And his wife, healthy as ever, I suppose?
Rumiss wife was said to have outlived both Helgira and Rumis. Yes, mlady.
She looked away. Go then. May Fortune be at your back.
Her expression so reminded him of Fairfaxs that he couldnt help stare one more moment. My master sends his most fervent regards, mlady.
The wyvern was swifttoo swift.
In a few minutes Titus would arrive at his destination. And perhaps in a few more minutes, he would use the execution curse on the Inquisitor.
A ruling prince was required to master the execution curse. If he sentenced any subject to death, he was to perform the deed himself, so that he must look the condemned mage in the face as he took the latters life.
Titus had never thought he would use the curse. He was a liar, a schemer, and a manipulator, but not a murderer.
Not like his grandfather.
For Fairfaxs safety, he was willing to give up his life. But was he also willing to give up what remained of his soul?
The wyvern landed on the meadow. He pushed aside his agitation to concentrate on what needed to be done. Under normal circumstances, when a mage exited the Crucible, it did not matter whether he had filled his pockets full of objects from the tales. Nothing could be brought out; the slate was wiped clean. But using the Crucible as a portal changed all the rules. The book would not close, so to speak, if he left with something that belonged inside.
He had already decided he would keep Helgiras cuff on his person. Should he escape the library of the Citadel unscathed, he would need a ready steed, and he could not find a better one than Helgiras. All he needed to do to keep the wyvern in place and waiting, her groom had informed him, was to take the stake at the end of the long chain attached to the beasts leg and push the stake into the ground.
The wyvern, however, did not seem to like the spot Titus had selected, on the bank of the stream that bisected the meadow. It bellowed plaintively, its claws clutching at the edges of Tituss tunic.
What is the matter? Do you smell something?
Wyverns had extraordinarily sensitive noses and could smell prey from miles away.
You cannot be hungry, can you? I thought they fed you fresh meat all the time.
The wyvern hissed.
I would not worry. Nothing menacing ever comes to the meadow. Not that I have seen, in any case.
Then again, he had never before physically inhabited the Crucible and did not know how it behaved in this state. He looked around. Everything was familiar enough, including Sleeping Beautys castle on the hill.
Or was it? The castle glowed not with the usual coppery light of torches and lamps, but with something akin to the blue-green luminescence of deep-sea creatures.
This copy of the Crucible had been his grandfathers. It would seem Prince Gaius had made changes. While one could not alter the underlying thrust of a storySleeping Beauty, for example, would never come downstairs on her own and help her rescuer battle the dragonsalmost all the incidentals of a story could be modified.
Turning Sleeping Beauty into Fairfax was only the latest of the changes Titus had made in his particular copy of the Crucible. There had not been wyverns in the great hall when the Crucible first came to him. Nor had the pair of dragons that guarded the castle gate been colossus cockatrices.
The changes Prince Gaius had made, however, felt more unsettling. But Titus could not pay much attentionnot when he had murder on his mind.