I scowled. “I’m not going to let them fuck up my world,” I said, though I was fully aware those were big words for someone who could barely carry ten bricks up a hill.
“Perhaps that purpose and determination will make this—” He tapped the brick in my hand. “—lighter.”
“Nothing will make the burden lighter,” I replied. “But it sure as shit makes me more willing to bear it.”
“It is much to bear.” His eyes dropped to the sigils that were visible above the neckline of my tank top. For the first time his smile faded completely, as if a light had gone out. He lifted a hand toward me then paused. His face was unreadable, yet I could see in his eyes his need to touch the sigils and his loathing to do so.
I went very still, sensing the silent, motionless battle within him. My pulse thudded as I waited, and I realized I wanted him to touch the sigils, wanted him to really know what I went through.
He shifted his attention up to the trio of syraza on the tower, though his hand didn’t waver. His gaze stayed on them for half a dozen heartbeats, and I had a feeling there was a silent discussion going on between them.
Seretis looked back to me, eyes haunted. “May I?” he asked softly. Beneath the words I felt his hope that I’d say no.
I worked moisture into my mouth. “Yes.”
He shifted closer, pausing with his fingers barely an inch above the sigil on my sternum. Unbidden, the memory of the torture that fired this sigil flared. It is as though I am immersed in acid and my skin boils away as I scream and thrash. Clenching my hands into fists, I tried in vain to control the shudder.
Grief shadowed across his face as he absorbed the memory. He visibly shook, then sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening in brief horror as if the power that had formed the sigils reached for him. He recoiled hard enough that he lost his balance and landed awkwardly on his backside, breathing heavily, eyes never leaving the sigil.
I realized I was staring at him in shock, and I quickly controlled my expression as best I could. “Yeah, that’s usually the reaction guys have when they look at my boobs,” I said lightly, trying to break the bizarre tension and give him a chance to recover.
Seretis closed his eyes and drew three controlled breaths, clearly drawing on the pygah and possibly others. After a moment he exhaled and opened his eyes. The horror had faded, yet the revulsion and grief still remained. He shifted to a half cross-legged position with one knee up, similar to the kneel/sit that the syraza so often used, then raised his eyes to mine.
“I am so very sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper but with no less strength.
“It is what it is,” I replied quietly.
A soft smile returned to his face. He reached and brushed my cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers. “And you are here, forged in fiery torment,” he pulled his hand back, rested his forearm on his knee, “prepared to kick the ass, as Michael would say, of the Four Dickwads.”
A shiver of lingering terror raced over me, but I gave him the low chuckle he no doubt expected. I didn’t feel anywhere near strong enough to even look any of them in the eye, much less kick any asses.
He laughed, a beautiful sound that helped disperse my residual fears—and his as well, perhaps. “Trust me, you don’t want to look them in the eye. Ugly, the lot of them.” He stood smoothly and held a hand out for me.
I allowed him to pull me to my feet and gave him a more genuine smile. I didn’t even mind that he’d clearly read my thoughts. He kept hold of my hand, laughing eyes on mine as he bowed toward me and brushed his lips across my knuckles—sharp contrast to Jesral who hadn’t bowed at all, though I doubted Seretis was aware of it.
“And now, my sweaty, fiery summoner,” he said, releasing my hand. “I must take my leave of you as Mzatal awaits me again.”
“It was my pleasure to meet you, Lord Seretis,” I said, actually meaning it.
Seretis beamed. “And a delight to meet you, Kara Gillian.” He turned and began to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “You could surprise Mzatal and carry all the bricks down again.” He took two steps, then stopped again. “On reconsideration, surprising Mzatal is not always the wisest course of action.” He laughed and continued toward the palace, whistling.
Grinning, I watched him go, then looked over at the bricks.
Nope.
Instead I lay down in the soft grass in the shadow of the column, and took a nap.
Chapter 28
I felt as if an entire new universe was opening up for me. Mzatal introduced me to the concepts of constructing floaters, starting me out with floor glyphs: chalk first, then transitioning to pure arcane energy. That alone took several days, which gave me plenty of time to get frustrated at my lack of success and apparent inadequacy. Mzatal, however, was the model of patience, though he sure as hell wasn’t always Mr. Nice Guy, and it was clear he had no intention of coddling me or easing me into training. As Idris had warned me oh-so long ago in our first conversation back on Szerain’s tower, Mzatal had no problem letting me know when I’d screwed up. Yet, he also was quick to offer deserved praise and stuck with me until I finally had my lightbulb-over-the-head moment of understanding.
The next couple of days flew by unnoticed as he led me through grueling preparatory practices of how to manage and channel the potency flows. Some of it was familiar—refinements on known techniques—and some completely new. But by the end of the week we were both satisfied that I was ready for the next step.
Mzatal had told me that the shikvihr could only be taught by a lord, and the same held true for floaters. I thought that simply meant it wasn’t allowed to be taught by others. I was wrong. A summoner required direct initiation from a lord to shape floaters. I could see, but not influence the needed potency strands. He explained that first, a summoner had to have an innate capacity to control potency combined with acquired skill. If those prerequisites were met, then it was simply a matter of fine-tuning what was already there, which was successful about half the time. I’d already been assessed through the first part, so all that remained was the second, which he accomplished in about ten minutes of holding my hands clasped between his. I didn’t feel any different, but I could sure as hell touch the strands afterwards.
He asked if I wanted to wait until the next day for the actual floaters since it was so late, but I knew the sooner I could get this shit down, the better, so I opted to forge ahead. Besides, I was pretty damned excited to try it. A couple of hours later, I had the kick-all-the-ass, mind-blowing “aha!” breakthrough on the floaters, and by dawn could lay consistent anchors and had a grasp on tracing multi-sigil series.
“And now it is time for you to sleep,” Mzatal told me, giving me one of his this-is-not-up-for-discussion looks when I began to protest that I was fine and could keep working. I closed my mouth, gave him a sheepish grin, and nodded assent instead.
“Come to the workroom at the mid-afternoon tone,” he said. “We will go to my nexus point and begin work directly related to recovering Szerain’s blade.”
I blinked in surprise. “I’m ready for that?”
“This is not the actual recovery, nor is it even part of the seeking,” he explained. “However, what we do will determine how we will construct those rituals in order to best utilize your unique energy signature.”
I wanted to quiz him more, but he turned me bodily and pushed me toward the bedroom. “Get in bed and sleep,” he ordered.
“Pushy fucker,” I muttered, but did as he commanded and was asleep within seconds of hitting the pillow.
After sound sleep, a bath, and plenty of food, I headed down to the workroom a little earlier than the appointed time so that I could practice all of the new stuff on my own. After about half an hour, Ilana came in and peered expectantly at me.
“You are ready?” she asked, her lovely chiming as soothing as ever.
I gave her a puzzled look. “Yeah, I guess. You’re working with us today?”
“Only to transport you to the
beach,” she said with a delicate flutter of wings. “Mzatal is still in the plexus and will be here momentarily,”
I nodded and finished the sigil I was practicing, then shifted my attention to her. “Ilana, what’s the deal with Zack AKA Zakaar? Is he as off-the-charts insane as Rhyzkahl?” He’d never shown any signs of treachery but then neither had Rhyzkahl before I’d arrived in his realm. The thought of Jill, Ryan, and Tessa at the mercy of a Rhyzkahl devotee gnawed at me.
Ilana shook her head. “Zakaar is demahnk—an Elder like Helori, like me. He is separated from Rhyzkahl for two reasons, one being that he stood resolutely against Rhyzkahl’s choices several decades ago.”
“And the other?” I asked. “Or is that something you’re not allowed to talk about?”
“He chose a guardianship, also because of Rhyzkahl’s actions.”
I tugged a hand through my hair, grimacing. “Zack is close to a friend of mine. Is she safe with him?” That he was one of the elder syraza eased much of my concern, but I really needed to hear it straight from Ilana.
She moved in close and laid her hand on my arm. “If this is one he has chosen to protect, she could not be safer. Zakaar is the most resolute of us all.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks.” I still had plenty to worry about around my friends and family, but at least I could put Zakaar’s being a diabolical fiend on the back burner.
Mzatal entered, one hand behind his back and a document in the other. He wore all black today, a mid-thigh tunic-coat, pants, and boots. Strands of metallic gold woven through his complex braid were his only ornamentation.
“Afternoon, Boss,” I said, giving him a quick smile.
“Good afternoon, Kara,” he said, his eyes traveling over me in a quick assessment of who-knew-what as he moved close to Ilana. He held up the glyph-covered paper. “Today we will attempt the first ring of the beacon ritual at the nexus.”
“Cool.” I stepped in close. I’d done enough travel with Helori to know the drill. I felt no small relief that we were going to the beach this way, since I’d learned from Jekki and Faruk that the standard way down was by about a billion stairs along the cliff face.
A heartbeat later we arrived on a high beach of tumbled rock and black sand nestled in a curve of the cliffs just south of Mzatal’s palace. Ahead, more stairs led down to a lower sandy beach where I saw Idris kneeling in the light surf, splashing water over his head. I assumed he’d come down the cliff stairs, but why? About fifty yards to the right, the waterfall cascaded with a roar into a deep sea-pool. Off to the left stood a circular platform of basalt surrounded by eleven dark columns. Apart from color, it was a near match to the pavilion in Szerain’s courtyard. This was Mzatal’s nexus. He strode immediately toward it, glancing back at me with a jerk of his head to indicate I should follow. I did so. I didn’t have the faintest idea what I would need to do, but I was more than ready to do it.
I stepped up onto the stone next to Mzatal, then threw out my hands as a wave of vertigo struck. Whoa. It was like stepping into a slowly spinning vortex. Szerain’s nexus had felt like it was sleeping, but this baby was definitely awake.
Mzatal caught my arm and held it for the moment it took me to accustom myself to the energies. “This afternoon is about experimentation, determining the ideal configuration for the base ring of the beacon diagram,” he said, a bare hint of eagerness in his voice as though the task itself or the method excited him. “Come.”
I followed him to the center, mild uneasiness coiling through me, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.
He turned to face me. “I spent time in the plexus seeking any sign that Rhyzkahl has activated a ritual recently, but found none,” he said with a last glance at the paper he held before tucking it away in a pocket.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes. Very good. And as we progress, it will be our goal to minimize disruptions in the potency flow so that we do not alert him to our work until absolutely necessary. For now, Idris and I will monitor that aspect until you are ready.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said with a nod. I had no idea how to keep flows low-profile, but I was confident he’d teach me what I needed to know. Yeah, like I was confident Rhyzkahl would send me home? I shoved the thought aside. This was nothing like that. Right?
“As soon as possible, we will create the beacon here to locate Vsuhl,” he said. He turned a slow circle, his eyes traveling over the platform and the columns. “Now we must determine how best to integrate your unique energy signature into the calling. I have laid out the initial parameters.” He patted the pocket that held the paper.
I peered up at him. “And since that’s theory only, you want to know how it works in a live setting.” That made sense, though the part about integrating my signature spiked my uneasiness. Am I being as naïve about Mzatal as I was about Rhyzkahl? An insistent thread of doubt twisted through me.
“Yes,” he said with a nod and a quick smile. I had the feeling we were in his element, something he actually enjoyed. “We seek the bridge between theory and practical application.” He rapidly traced a line of eleven floaters in front of us. “What do you see as the commonality between these three sections?” he asked, indicating the sections, then glancing at me.
Damn. A test. I examined the series and, to my relief, found a small link. “Well, the lateral vectors correlate.”
His mouth drew into a tight line, and his brow furrowed. Crap. That obviously wasn’t the answer he was looking for. I had a feeling my answer was about as dumb as saying that the commonality between a group of typed words was that the ink was black. With a pass of his hand along the line, he ignited the sigils, then moved behind me. “This may help you to see more clearly. Pygah with your eyes closed and feel the series. Then open your eyes and see what correlations you find.”
I felt as if I’d been handed an exam I hadn’t studied for, and it must have shown.
Mzatal laid his hand briefly on my shoulder. “This is not a test, Kara. I know that I am missing an aspect, and I want to determine what you can see in order to fill that gap.”
Well, that was a new one. With a slight frown, I moved to the exact center of the line of sigils and followed Mzatal’s instructions, very aware of his presence behind me. I extended my senses and felt into the series, then opened my eyes, finding it more vibrantly clear now. I smiled, feeling not only the common harmony between the sections, but the delicate relationships between individual sigils. “It’s not really about the sections. Each sigil is connected to every other sigil, some doubly so.”
Mzatal stepped up beside me, clasped his hands behind his back, and squinted at the line. “Show me.”
I saw Idris watching a couple of feet from the edge of the platform, frowning slightly, hair dripping seawater.
Was this part of some strange game Mzatal was playing? Except it sure felt sincere. I traced several of the sigil strands with my index finger. “See? These are the doubles. And here are the singles,” I said, as I pointed them out. “They have a different resonance that feels…off.”
Mzatal narrowed his eyes, leaned in, and examined the series for at least a full minute, deeply absorbed. With a sudden intake of breath, he straightened, nodding. “Yes. Excellent.” He made some adjustments to the line. “And now?”
I’d followed the feel of what he did and was already trying to figure out how to say in words what I sensed. I gestured to the sigil on the end. “That one,” I said, shaking my head, “is the wrong, um, hue?” Damn it. That wasn’t right.
The lord peered at the sigil, then shook his head definitively. “I do not see it,” he said. “It would clarify for me if I read it directly through you.”
I tensed involuntarily, though I knew it was the best way for him to see what I couldn’t explain. And at least he asked. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder, nothing more. “Now show me.”
I examined the sigil carefully
, feeling into the slight discordance of the hue. My nails bit into the palms of my clenched hands, though I couldn’t even feel a whisper of his presence. Apparently looking through me wasn’t the same as reading me.
Mzatal remained still for a bit, then muttered something in demon. A moment later he lifted his hand from my shoulder. “I have it,” he said. He made a quick adjustment, then spun the line into a ring around us. “You completed the series,” he said, turning fully to me with a smile.
I exhaled in relief that he was out of my head, and echoed his smile with a slight one of my own. But the mild discomfort twitched up another notch. I’d given him something he couldn’t get without me. He’d said he would use me. Was I falling into his trap? “Guess I’m not totally hopeless,” I said lightly.
“Kara Gillian, you are far from hopeless,” he said with a shake of his head. “Now you have but to ignite it.”
Right. Ignite it. I rubbed sweaty palms on my pants. This wasn’t Rhyzkahl. Mzatal and I had an agreement. Get over it, I told myself. So far there was nothing to indicate that Mzatal intended to screw me over. I took a deep breath, lifted my hand, and sent a focused burst of potency to the ring. Its resonance struck me in a dissonant wave as it ignited, off just enough to be uncomfortable.
Mzatal turned in a circle, examining the ring. “Perfect. This is our foundation,” he said, nodding approval. “Now, bring it into alignment and see if you can attain full resonance.”
I made adjustments and brought the alignment as far as I could. The resonance improved, but remained unsettling and definitely not right.
Mzatal had his shoulders drawn up; obviously, he enjoyed the discordance as much as I did. “More, Kara. Slide the anchoring until the harmonics align, then you will have it.”
I gritted my teeth and tried to make the adjustments, took it a little farther, but no. Grimacing, I withdrew from the series. “It’s not…” I shook my head. “No. It’s not right. It’s not working.”