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As Tyra
Surmising that one of these two women-probably the redhead, she thought-must be the famous Celeste, Tyra
Later on, a gri
Now, his dreggan and throwing knives hooked over the back of his chair, Tristan told them everything. In between bites of food and cups of wine, he described in great detail his capture, his time rowing, and his meeting with Krassus and the herbmistress Grizelda. He went on to tell them of his rescue by Tyra
He did not, however, demand answers from them regarding the mystery surrounding the existence of Sanctuary, for he realized that the two secretive wizards would not wish to discuss it in the presence of two relative strangers.
Wigg and Faegan listened to his story intently. They asked questions from time to time, but for the most part they remained still. When Tristan finally finished, the room went completely quiet, the only sound the purring of Nicodemus, Faegan's blue cat. It was Wigg who finally broke the silence.
"It seems we have much to thank you for, miss," he said, turning to Tyra
Tyra
A look of recognition flashed over the lead wizard's face. "The Welbornes of Farpoint?" he said. "A very long time ago, I knew such a family. There was once a privateer, Isaac Welborne, who sailed in the service of the Directorate. But that was more than three hundred years ago, during the Sorceresses' War."
"Isaac Welborne was one of my ancestors," Tyra
It might have simply been the retelling of the story, or it might have been due to the lead wizard's recent, heart-rending experiences in the Chamber of Penitence, but for whatever reason, Wigg's eyes grew shiny. He wiped them with the sleeve of his robe.
"Tyra
He gave Geldon a nod, and the two of them left the room for a moment. When they returned, they were helping each other carry two rather unwieldy packages. Each was wrapped in bloody sailcloth and tied securely with ship's rope. They placed them on the table before Wigg, then sat down again.
The lead wizard raised an eyebrow. "What are they?"
"The only way you're going to know is by opening them," Tristan answered, a smile on his face. "As far as I know, even you and Faegan can't see through things."
From the other side of the table, Faegan gave one of his wry cackles. "Don't be so sure."
Wigg looked down at the crudely wrapped packages. He couldn't imagine what they might be. Nor could he remember the last time anyone had given him something, for that matter. Narrowing his eyes, he called on the craft. Almost immediately, the sailor's knots began to untie themselves. As they did, Tristan looked over at Tyra
As the sailcloth was unwrapped, it revealed a worn ship's wheel-the one Tristan had ordered taken from The People's Revenge just before she went down. The other package contained the wooden-and-brass plaque that listed not only all the names of those who had commanded the Resolve, but also the various other vessels the wheel had been passed down to over the centuries by the Welborne family.
Rather high up on the list, it said, wigg, lead wizard of the directorate of wizards. commander of the resolve. The last entry read, tyra
The wizard's eyes welled up with tears as he ran his ancient fingers over the engravings. He then looked up at Tyra
"My greatest thanks, child," he said softly, his voice cracking. "I couldn't possibly know how to repay you."
Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, Tristan looked over at Tyra
"And that would be?" Faegan asked suspiciously.
Tristan indicated to Tyra
As Wigg read the note, his eyes went wide. He remembered all that Tristan had just told them about his recent adventures, though, and his expression softened a bit. Still, he wasn't convinced that such a huge amount should be paid.
He finally passed the note over to Faegan, who sca
"Forgive me, Tyra
"No," Tristan interjected firmly. "It was all my idea." Then he smiled. "Still, I didn't think it would hurt."
Wigg shook his head adamantly. "Tristan, surely you must realize what a huge sum this is!" he countered. "I fully understand that it is the identical amount that was once offered for your capture, and as such it may therefore possess some small degree of justification. But such a sum is without precedent in the entire history of Eutracia! Such a reward would make Tyra
But Tristan wasn't about to back down. She had saved his life twice. And he had given her his word. A deal was a deal. Leaning over the tabletop, he looked Wigg directly in the eyes.
"Then it's a good thing we're all sitting in the Chamber of Supplication, isn't it?" he asked Wigg seriously. "What better place to grant such a request?" He leaned back in his chair and looked around the table again. "Besides," he said shortly, "there are other things I wish her to have, as well. Things that are now in our own best interests to provide."
"And just what might those be?" Faegan asked.
"I want the two of you to grant her letters of marque, just as you once did for Isaac," Tristan said. "These times we live in are no less dangerous than then-perhaps even more so. I want you to draw the papers up immediately. They are to validate her rights as a privateer to prowl the waters off the coast of Eutracia, and to attack and commandeer any demonslaver vessels she might run across, and any pirate ships that might have slipped away during our recent battle. Despite the efficiency of the Minion fleet, given the great scope and confusion of yesterday's confrontation I would be very surprised if at least several of the raiders' vessels hadn't eluded us. In return, Tyra