A thoughtful look came into his eyes for an instant, but then he gave me a reassuring smile. “I will help you learn to accommodate the grove flows,” he said. “It will be a powerful tool in our arsenal against Rhyzkahl and those who stand with him.”
“He’s not going to give up,” I said. “We need to get the damn beacon set for Szerain’s blade.” I thought back again to that last time on the beach. The discordance. I hadn’t trusted myself or Mzatal enough to push through and set the resonance properly. “I know I can do it now.”
“Yes, of this I have no doubt,” he replied, expression showing nothing but utter faith in me. He paused with an air about him as though deciding whether or not to continue, then drew a deep breath. “When I had you stand before the statue of Elinor,” Mzatal said quietly, “when you sank so deeply into her memories, you know that I came within a heartbeat of killing you.” He paused while my breath caught at the reminder of those moments of terror. “What would I have wrought had I slain you?” His expression briefly shadowed. “And what would have happened later had my focus not shifted to exploring your potential?”
“A world without me would suck, that’s for damn sure, and I’d be here haunting your ass,” I said with a touch of heat, but then shook my head. “Everything we do has consequences. Everything.” I looked up and met his gaze. “You had no right to do all the shit you did to me, but after going through what I’ve been through, and how we are now, I’m ready to live for this moment and the future.”
Mzatal exhaled, and his shoulders dropped a smidge as if a measure of tension unwound. “Everything has consequences,” he echoed, and I had the feeling the words touched far beyond the current topic. He shook his head as though to rid himself of whatever it was and gave me a smile.
“What made your focus shift?” I asked, watching his face for signs of anything he wasn’t speaking.
“With the Elinor memories, it was that you had the presence and will to extract yourself from them. Beyond that, I cannot tell you the precise instant, nor the trigger,” Mzatal said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as though trying to recapture a distant moment. When he looked back to me, his expression held a measure of respect. “In a very short time, I came to know that you held a great love of life and possessed admirable tenacity. Both of these I acknowledged as highly desirable for a summoner, as well as useful for the retrieval of Vsuhl. But there was something…more.” He went quiet with brow furrowed, seeking words for the rest.
“I get it,” I said with a straight face. “You needed someone with devastating skills and mastery of the arcane in order to challenge Idris to move beyond the paltry efforts he’s shown thus far.”
Mzatal smiled. “This is a measure of your magic,” he said, eyes crinkling, “your ability to truly lift my spirits. It is a precious gift. And there was—is—a sense of potential beyond my known parameters. I did not, and do not, choose to lose it. Or you.”
I met his eyes with a serious gaze. “Mzatal, I promise you now that I will always be the person you can count on to bug the crap out of you and call you on your bullshit.”
“And I will hold you to that promise, Kara Gillian,” he said. Then, to my surprise, he let out a low laugh. “In reconsideration, perhaps I do know of two moments when I truly began to reassess everything about you.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him in question.
Smiling, he lifted his hand to his throat, middle finger extended. “When we were last at Szerain’s palace, after your injury, you touched the collar thus and said that you knew your place. I had no choice but to leave the room or laugh outright, completely dissolving my carefully maintained demeanor.”
I grinned. “And the other?”
“After I told you of Elinor’s energy signature. When you referred to it as,” his smile spread a bit wider, “‘Elinor’s magic kidney,’ again it was all I could do not to laugh.”
And here I’d thought he was a humorless fuck. “What can I say? I have a unique outlook.”
“One I would not trade for anything.”
I turned and leaned on the railing to look out at the sea. Distant clouds shrouded the horizon, and flying creatures swooped along the cliff edge. A breeze brought the taste of salt and warmth. Mzatal moved to stand next to me, hip grazing mine.
I flicked a glance his way. “So, when do we go back to finding this stupid knife?”
A hint of amusement curved his mouth. “Vsuhl is far more than a stupid knife.”
“I’m not going to call a knife by a name. Especially one as silly as ‘Vsuhl,’” I teased with a roll of my eyes, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there anything else you name?”
The amusement increased, and he raised an eyebrow right back at me. “I have names for many things. But to answer your question, we begin as soon as Idris prepares.” He shifted to drape an arm over my shoulders. “But for now, I wish to enjoy the view. And the company.”
Smiling, I slipped an arm around his waist and leaned in to him. “They’re both pretty damn nice.”
Chapter 38
My favorite faas in the whole world crouched by the side of the bed with a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. I grinned and threw off the covers. “Oh, Jekki, if you weren’t already taken…”
Jekki tilted his head and gave me a confused burble. “Don’t mind me,” I said with a laugh as I pulled on a robe. “I’m punchy because I actually got a full night’s sleep. And here you are with coffee, ready and waiting!” The last couple of weeks had been psycho busy with training and ritual preparation, but thanks to a progress-halting snag yesterday, I had the luxury of much needed sleep. Okay, it kinda sucked that we’d run into a snag, but, damn, I actually felt halfway rested.
I glanced through the doorway to see Mzatal still sitting at the table in the outer chamber tracing sigils and making notes—exactly where he’d been when I went to bed. I snorted. “Let me guess. He’s been there all night and hasn’t eaten since, what, yesterday morning? The day before?”
“Ate bits, some, morning two days,” Jekki said, holding the coffee out to me.
I took the mug and sipped, then exhaled in pleasure. Jekki knew how to stay on my good side. “Right. Could you please bring a plate of fruit, some cheese, and a fresh jug of tunjen for him?” I asked. As Jekki turned to go, I added, “And a bowl of that honey custard stuff he likes.” If nothing else, maybe he’d eat that.
I followed the faas out into the main chamber. Mzatal glanced toward me with a faint smile as I set my coffee on the table and moved behind him, but then immediately returned his focus to the sigil before him.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and began to massage the tight muscles. “Take a break, Boss.”
Mzatal set the sigil spinning, then let out an exasperated sigh. “I still cannot determine the sequitur of this final series for the beacon, and we cannot proceed without it. All else is complete.” He scrubbed his hand over his face in a very rare gesture of frustration.
“Yeah, well, take a break and maybe it’ll come to you,” I said, continuing with the massage. “You sure as hell won’t figure it out when you’re tense and hungry and cranky.”
He exhaled a that-hurts-but-don’t-stop breath and dropped his head back to look up at me. “Tense, admittedly. Hungry, undeniably.” His expression turned doubtful with a hint of a smile. “Perhaps methodical, calculating, and focused. But cranky?”
I laughed. “Well, I rescind the cranky label for now, but only if you rest and eat,” I said. “I know you’re a big bad lord, but you still need food every once in a while.” I dug my thumbs into knotted muscles. “Cripes. How long have you been sitting here?”
“Since we concluded last night,” Mzatal said. He looked back to the floating sigil, dissipated it with a violent sweep of his arm, then sighed. “I should send for food.”
“Way ahead of you.” I smiled as Jekki and Faruk hopped in with a tray and jug. I gave his shoulders a final squeeze, then helped the two faas get the food onto t
he table. “Eat.”
Mzatal gestured toward my mug as he poured tunjen for himself. “And what of you? You have only had coffee again,” he noted.
“Coffee is the food of the gods,” I retorted as I snagged some cheese and a couple of grape-things.
“You do much enjoy it,” he said, selecting slices of fruit for his plate. “It is ubiquitous to Earth, yes?”
Taking a sip, I nodded. “It’s a huge industry, and there are shops devoted to little more than the sale of coffee in a variety of forms.” I let out a dreamy sigh. “Heaven.”
“It was relatively new to your world at the time of the cataclysm,” he said, “with only a century or so of any significant distribution. Once the ways opened again, I had not considered it until I noted your obsession, then discovered its use to be widespread.”
“It’s not an obsession,” I said, grinning. “It’s an addiction. Get it right.”
Mzatal smiled. “Obsession with an addiction.” He reached over the cheese for the custard. “My favorite,” he said, raising the bowl slightly to me. “Dak lahn.”
I returned the smile, glad to see him eating. “I know.”
He lifted his eyes to mine, held the gaze for a moment. A sense of true appreciation came through to me before he started on the custard. “Idris has completed his work and now awaits me.” He shook his head. “I am no nearer a solution than I was last night.”
“Still on the final series for the beacon?”
He nodded. “The last three sigils are inharmonious, and I have yet to determine the cause.”
“Can’t you take a day and do something else, give your mind a break?” I asked. “You could come out and harass me by the column. I’m soooo close to finishing the damned first ring of the shikvihr.”
“It is likely you would were we to devote the day to it,” he said with an approving nod, then grimaced. “But time is short. If the beacon is not set within the next two days, we will be delayed another month, and that is unacceptable. All else is ready except this last series.”
I frowned. “Another month? Why?”
“The Earth full moon is four days hence,” he said. “The greatest chance of locating and binding Vsuhl is on that day, and the beacon must be completed and tended for at least two days prior in order to be optimally effective.”
I gave him my best utterly-baffled look. The high level of potency in the demon realm meant that rituals weren’t dependent on the moon cycle, and certainly not on the Earth moon cycle. “That makes no sense,” I said, perplexed. “What am I missing?”
He finished the custard and set the bowl aside. “Szerain is unrivaled in arcane innovation,” he said, tone shifting to one of casual conversation, as if he’d decided to discuss the weather. “Should he choose to hide something, it would not only be very cleverly hidden, but also linked to him. It would…resonate with him.” He reached for his mug of tunjen, took a long drink.
“Ohhh,” I said as comprehension dawned. Vsuhl was Sze rain’s blade. “So to track Vsuhl we’re purposefully coinciding with Earth’s highest potency time because Szerain is there.” Because of the stupid oath, Mzatal couldn’t come right out and say Szerain is on Earth, but I could. “Got it.”
“To correlate with the lunar full, I must complete this series today,” he said, a hint of the earlier frustration coloring his tone.
“That’s one hell of a time crunch,” I said with a grimace. “I wish I could help more.”
“You spent half the day yesterday working on it with me. This time it is my aspect that is not aligning,” he said with another deep sigh. But then he gave me a smile. “And today, you have fed me and eased the significant tension in my shoulders. That is much help, Kara.”
“Well I’m going to help even more by grabbing a bath now,” I said. “If Idris is free, I’ll make him run me through the first ring of the shikvihr until I get it. I’m ready to nail that thing.”
“Complete it,” he said with a warm smile, “and I will leave this accursed series to culminate the ring for you.”
I grinned. “Deal, Boss. That’s one way to get you to take a break.”
“Until then, though,” he said with a shake of his head, “I must refocus on this.” He traced a sigil and began adjusting strands on it. I didn’t remember it being in the series we’d worked on yesterday, but it wouldn’t be the first time I had less than a Full Clue.
I stood, picked up my cooling coffee, and took a long sip as I headed off toward the bedchamber. Something about the sigil nagged at me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Yet I could feel, with increasing unease, every modification Mzatal made to it. Heart pounding unevenly, I turned and walked back to the table, set my mug down. Each adjustment of the sigil brought it closer and closer to—
I didn’t ask permission, simply reached out with a shaking hand to shift the axis of rotation of the sigil, then detached an outer strand and set the whole thing into a wobbling spin.
The sigil brightened and issued a low, throbbing tone that sent an itch through my bones. The air crackled palpably and audibly as though with static. Wrenching shoulder pain. The bite of the blade. The cold mask of his face.
Mzatal sucked in a sharp breath, stood and backed away so abruptly that he overturned his chair. I cried out as pain like fiery needles flared across my abdomen.
He swept the sigil away with a pass of his hand. The pain vanished but I still clutched at my belly, my breath coming in ragged bursts.
“It burned,” I managed to get out.
Mzatal moved swiftly behind me, dropped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me back against him. His other hand slid beneath mine to press against my abdomen where the scars of Jesral’s glyph still tingled.
I dropped my head back against his shoulder. “I saw that sigil, in Rhyzkahl’s ritual,” I said, my voice shaking. “It was directly in front of me, in the inner ring.”
“And it affected you now,” he said, pressing slightly with his hand. “Jesral’s glyph only?”
I closed my eyes and assessed myself just to be sure. “Yeah, that’s the only one that flared,” I said, slowly easing. “And it’s okay now, like it never happened.”
Mzatal remained silent and still, likely making his own assessment.
I swallowed. “I guess they aren’t just scars after all.” Helori had said as much, but denial had been a lot more comfortable.
“They are not what they were created to be,” he said quietly, “but they are not quiescent, and I do not know what they are.”
“Well ain’t that goddamn peachy,” I said, new apprehension settling in atop the old. I turned around so I could look up into his face, not wanting to dwell on any thoughts of the fucking scars. “I’m sorry I messed with the sigil.”
“Admittedly, such could be dangerous and ill-advised,” he said. “However, in this case, quite useful. The adjustments you made were an adaptation for rakkuhr that I did not know, but that resonates with what has been out of sync in the final ring.” He gave me a slight smile. “As impulsively reckless as your action was, I now have enough insight to complete the series.”
I snorted. “Go me!”
Mzatal laughed, placed his hands on my shoulders, then leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. “Go you, indeed. Now bathe and prepare. We will begin the beacon midday at the nexus.”
Smiling despite myself at the unexpected sound of his laughter, I headed off to bathe and prepare. But my smile faded as I reached the bath chamber. The scars were clearly more than scars, yet no one seemed to know what the hell they were.
I scowled as I slipped into the tub. It’d been a big deal just to get my ears pierced, and now I had arcane scarification. Fuck you, Rhyzkahl. Fuck. You.
Chapter 39
The sun hung low over the sea in an increasingly glorious display of fiery orange and purple, casting the black sand of the beach in shifting hues that reminded me of the album cover for Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album. The mild sea breeze wound around me
, cooling the sweat that plastered my shirt to my body as I lay sprawled on my side on the large flat boulder. I smiled wearily. That album would be a pretty nifty soundtrack for this particular scene.
Rippling waves of power pulsed from the active ritual diagram that was set within Mzatal’s nexus point. The low crash of surf against rock mingled with the sub-audible hum of the ritual in a strangely rhythmic discordance, both lulling me into a stupor and keeping me from actually drifting off.
Events moved swiftly once Mzatal knew how to tune the series of sigils. That afternoon, he’d brought us back out here to create the ritual to seek out the blade. This was like a message signal, a “Hey, wake up!” to the blade, combined with a way to lock onto it once it was found. And then, assuming that was successful, we would relocate to Szerain’s palace and create a new ritual—the final one, where, if all went well, I would actually call it into my hand.
For three days we worked on this diagram, first in the creation and then taking turns tending and maintaining it. In between periods of work on the beacon, we trained and studied and prepared for the next ritual. And, occasionally, Idris and I grabbed naps on blankets spread on the sand. Needless to say, I was damn tired and more than ready to sleep in a real bed. I’d had my fill of camping out during my time with Helori. An outdoorsy chick I was not.
Adding to my fatigue was the fact that the creation of this beacon required a fair amount of bloodletting on my part, since I was the one who would make the final call to the blade. I had no problem with the actual shedding of blood; I’d been taught to summon with a diagram formed of chalk and blood, and I wasn’t squeamish about making the cut. However the amount needed in a summoning was never more than a few tablespoons. I figured I’d dumped about a pint for this one so far.
The diagram thrummed and flared on the pavilion, and I smiled in weary satisfaction. In some ways it was similar to the beacon I’d used to call Tessa’s essence back to her body, though on a vastly larger scale. Rhyzkahl gave me that beacon. I mused on that. I’d developed my storage diagram from it, which made it possible for me to summon whenever I wanted instead of being limited by the phase of the moon. No doubt there was some significance to the fact that Rhyzkahl had given me the parameters to a beacon similar to this one, but I was far too tired to explore it now. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t retrieving the blade for his punk ass anyway.