The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Sixty-two

A fter sleeping like the dead, Tristan opened his balcony doors to find that a beautiful day had arrived. While bathing and dressing, he realized how hungry he was-not only for a good breakfast from the gnome wives, but for the company of Celeste, as well. He was walking down a hallway contemplating a plan to find her after breakfast when he turned a corner and literally bumped into her, along with Abbey and Shailiha. Celeste was dressed in shiny black knee boots, black riding breeches, a white, low-cut blouse, and black riding gloves. She was holding a basket. Shailiha was pushing Morganna's ornate carriage. Caprice circled lazily overhead, in the spacious heights of the hallway. All three women smiled at him as if they all knew something that he did not. The moment he looked into their faces, he knew what it was.

Celeste had told her friends about the change in her relationship with him. One more thing for Shailiha to tease him about. Things would never be the same.

Celeste came closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The other two women grinned. Tristan blushed.

"I knew we'd find you on the way to the kitchens," Celeste said happily. She held up the basket. "So I took the liberty of putting some breakfast together for us."

Tristan's eyebrows went up. "Again? You're going to make me fat. Besides, I'm on my way to see the wizards. I want to know what they have discovered about the scroll."

"Yes, my prince, breakfast again," Celeste growled back comically, giving him her best look of feigned ferocity. "But a picnic this time. I thought we could go for a ride." Then her face darkened a bit.

"In truth, this was Father's and Faegan's idea," she admitted. "They knew you would be demanding answers as soon as you awakened, and they asked me to keep you occupied for a bit. They have released me from my translation duties, but they said that they would like to see us all on the balcony of your late father's quarters at midday. That's all I know."

"My father's balcony?" he asked, baffled. "Why in the world would they want to meet us there?"

Shailiha shrugged. "We don't know. But they are in a very somber mood-of that there is no doubt. I suggest the two of you get going. Be back by midday at the latest."

Tristan never had liked having his day arranged for him by others. But he had wanted to see Celeste, and his stomach was growling. Besides, if the wizards wouldn't see him, they wouldn't see him; that would be all there was to it.

Then he remembered Marcus and Rebecca. "What about the two children?" he asked. "Where are they?"

"They're in the combined company of Shawna the Short and a Minion overseer," Abbey told him with a quick laugh. "Rebecca is so sweet. But Marcus has proven to be quite a handful. He has already tried to make off with some of the palace silver. But you know Shawna. She put him back in his place quickly. I think he's more frightened of her than he is of the Minions." She smiled. "I don't think Marcus likes it here very much."

Sighing, Tristan gave Abbey a little nod of acknowledgment. Then he turned to Celeste. "Well, I suppose if we're going to go, then we should do so," he said. He relieved her of the basket and took one of her arms into his. Whatever she had packed smelled wonderful, and his stomach growled again.

After pursing his lips at Shailiha, he gave a patronizingly deep bow to his sister and the herbmistress and began guiding Celeste down the halls of the palace. Head high, he pretended he didn't see the wide grins on Shailiha's and Abbey's faces.

The walk to the stables was short and uneventful. Geldon was there as usual, tending to the horses. He saddled a bay mare for Celeste, while Tristan, his face somber, began a rather sad, quiet search for a new mount. When Geldon made a move to help him, Celeste touched the dwarf's arm and placed one finger over her lips. Sighing, Geldon nodded. Celeste was right, he realized. This was something Tristan would want to do-need to do-on his own.

Finally selecting a sturdy tan stallion, Tristan glumly avoided the familiar saddle and bridle he had always used on Pilgrim, and chose others instead. As he turned with the reins in one hand, he saw Celeste tying the basket to the back of her saddle. He looked at her quizzically.

"What's going to keep everything from breaking?" he asked as he mounted. "Or at the very least getting all mixed up?"

Smiling, Celeste gave him a wink. "Father enchanted the containers," she told him. Placing one boot into a stirrup, she easily mounted her horse, then grinned at him. "Want to race?"

Without waiting for an answer, she wheeled her mare around and galloped out of the barn, her red hair flying. Laughing out loud, Tristan spurred his stallion and went after her.

Tristan had never seen Celeste ride, and he was impressed by how confidently she sat her horse. She galloped hard across the stable yard and the palace grounds, then pushed her mare noisily up and over the drawbridge. Several Minion warriors gaped at her as she went by. Then came another quick, skidding left, and she went tearing off into the countryside, charging away so fast she nearly lost him.

Tristan's stallion was not as quick as Pilgrim; in truth, few had ever been. But the horse was surefooted, and it felt good to Tristan to be away from the troubles of the palace and feel the wind hitting his face.

Celeste pointed her mare across an open meadow, Tristan following. The tall grass teased the bottoms of their stirrups, and they left two lanes of crushed grasses in their wake. Then she leapt directly over a section of broken rail fence, splashed unerringly across a small stream, and ran along its opposite bank for a time. As she approached another bend in the river, she stopped, her mare panting hard.

Tristan pulled up next to her. Her chest heaving, Celeste leaned one arm down on the pommel of her saddle, looked at him, and laughed lightly.

Jumping down, Tristan held her reins as Celeste dismounted. She untied the basket from her saddle, and he walked the two panting horses to the stream, allowing them to drink a small sip of water. Later, when they'd cooled down, he'd allow them to drink their fill. After tying the horses to two trees that were a good distance apart, he walked back to Celeste. By then she had removed her gloves, laid out a plaid blanket, and set out the food.

Tristan removed his weapons, tossed them to the ground, and sat down on his heels next to her. He saw spotted quail eggs again-hard-boiled this time-fresh fruit, cheese, dark bread, and what looked like unfermented mintberry juice.

He took an egg and began to peel away its shell. As he did the morning breeze came up, the stream burbled, and they could hear the songs of the triad larks. Looking around at the idyllic scene, Tristan wished he could stay here with Celeste forever, with no wizards, magic, or enemies to interfere with their lives.

"You spoil me," he said quietly. "I could become quite used to this." He popped the tiny egg into his mouth.

"Good," she replied, as she handed him a cup of the light green juice. "Spoiling you is one of my favorite pastimes, you know. Besides, someone has to do it. You're still too thin from your time in captivity."

Seeing his face darken, she immediately regretted her remark. She reached out and touched his hand in apology. Silence passed between them for a time.

"It was awful, wasn't it?" she asked finally, softly.

Turning his face away for a moment, Tristan looked out over the meandering stream. "Yes," he replied simply. "It was. But I was one of the lucky few. I was saved. And what I suffered does not begin to compare with your treatment by Ragnar." Then he remained quiet for a bit longer.

"You were the one thing on my mind as the demonslaver whipped me, just before I passed out," he continued softly. "I will always carry these scars on my back. But I had vowed that I wouldn't scream, and I didn't. Without knowing it, you helped me accomplish that."

Celeste lay down on the blanket, her beautiful, dark red hair splayed out around her face. Tristan lay down on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. He heard the wind rustle the tops of the trees, and he could smell the myrrh in her hair.

Reaching up, she toyed briefly with the laces of his vest. "What is going to happen to us?" she asked. "Do you really believe Wulfgar is coming with his demonslavers?"

"I don't know what to believe about a brother I have never met," he answered thoughtfully. "Much less one who has supposedly been turned to the Vagaries. But I do know one thing: If there is a way out of our troubles, your father and Faegan are the ones to find it. You helped them with the translation; is there anything about the scroll that you can tell me?"

"I wish I could," she answered sadly. "But the truth is that the translations I did for them were nothing but gibberish to me. They were almost exclusively calculations of the craft. I couldn't understand them. My translations only made their more important work go faster. I not only fear whatever it is they might tell us today, but I am also at a complete loss as to what it might be."

He was about to tell her of his conversation with her father the previous night when Celeste placed her fingertips gently across his lips. As she looked up at him, her face slowly changed. She placed one palm alongside his cheek, and the lids of her sapphire eyes lowered slightly. Her breathing came a bit harder. Her lips parted as her eyes searched his face. Tristan's heart beat faster. He was sure he had never seen such a beautiful woman in his life.

Celeste raised up a bit and kissed him on the lips. As she did, one hand slid down and touched him.

"Please," she asked him softly.

Leaning gently over her, Tristan ran one hand into her thick hair and gazed sharply into her wide, blue eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"More so of this than anything else in my life," she answered. Her mind made up, a look of needful surrender crossed her face.

"Please, Tristan… my love… please teach my desire to fly… to fly on the wings that you alone bring…"

Leaning down closer, he touched his lips to hers.

The wind wafted through the trees, and the birds sang.

L ater, Tristan awakened to find the plaid blanket covering them both. Celeste's naked body felt warm as she slumbered beside him with her head on his shoulder. What had passed between them had been more wonderful than he could ever have imagined.

It was then that he first noticed the soft, azure glow of the craft quietly surrounding them. But it was gone before he could really focus on it. Perhaps he had imagined it, he thought sleepily. It must just have been a dream.

He closed his eyes and felt himself begin to drift off again.