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.”
Mzatal exhaled, and though I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his eyes on me. “Take it down,” he said.
Annoyance and frustration seared through me, and a zillion thoughts consumed my mind, even though I knew most were irrational. Why the hell couldn’t I do this one stupid little thing? And who the hell gave these lords the right to fuck with my life? My life. Everything had been fine until the asshole lords got involved.
I grounded the ring, then dispelled it with several arm sweeps that felt more like attacks than artistry. At least I could do that much right. Without looking at Mzatal, I turned and stalked to the edge of the platform, then stepped down onto the sand.
Idris hurried over. “It’s okay,” he said. “You almost had it.” He gave me a you’ll-get-it-next-time smile that made me want to slug him, but I knew none of it was his fault. Except that I was here at all. Yeah, that.
I gave him a tight smile and moved off a bit. All I wanted was to be by myself. Hugging my arms around me, I stared out at the ocean, unsettled, annoyed, and angry.
“Idris,” Mzatal said from somewhere behind me. “Proceed with the stabilization of the nexus in preparation for the full foundation. I do not know when we will be ready, though, ideally, by the next full moon on Earth.”
Didn’t know when we would be ready because I couldn’t do my part. Fuck.
“Kara, we will return home and continue our work tomorrow,” he said with irritating calm. “Take the stairs. Stop at each switchback and count to one hundred twenty-one, then continue.”
Blinking in disbelief, I turned fully on him. He stood with his hands locked behind his back and face set in impassive judgment. “Not my home,” I retorted, damn near snarling it. “And count? Like, count out loud to one twenty-one?” I looked over at the stairs that zigzagged up the five-hundred foot cliff. Punishment for messing up the ritual thing. I hate this shit.
“It is not necessary to speak,” he said. “It is necessary to acknowledge each number.”
“Sure,” I said tightly. “No problem.” Yeah, this was turning into a lovely shittastic day.
“End the count with a pygah,” he added, then turned and strode toward Ilana. I stared at his back and bit back a choice reply. Idris walked the perimeter of the nexus over and over, oblivious to the bullshit taking place in my world.
I pivoted and stalked to the stairs, looked up and shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. They rose steeply, cut from the basalt itself or built out where needed. Narrow. No rail. Great.
I started up, thighs complaining even before I reached the first switchback. Back home, stair climbing was pretty much limited to my basement and porch steps, with all others avoided unless absolutely necessary. Upon reaching the turn, I stopped and did the stupid count and pygah, then peered over the edge. It was already a looong way down. Idris, shirtless now, traced in the center of the nexus, surrounded by a growing ring of sigils. Damn, but he made it look so easy.
Up. And more up. On the fourth switchback, I stopped to catch my breath, hands on my hips, thighs burning like crazy. I looked up and immediately realized that ignorance was indeed bliss. Still a helluva long way to the top. Shit! I tried to nurse the anger, but it slid away to a simmer, my body demanding the lion’s share of my attention. A glimpse of blue caught my attention from a couple of switchbacks up. Possibly a faas heading down, I figured.
I leaned back against the cliff, both to rest a bit and to keep well away from the edge since, at this point, it was like being on a ledge of a twenty-story building. I had a healthy respect for though not a particular fear of heights, but this was definitely pushing the envelope.
I took a deep breath, did the count and the pygah. When I opened my eyes, Faruk hopped down the last few steps to my switchback and stood vibrating before me, a plastic sports bottle—very obviously from Earth—clutched between its hands.
“Tunjen for youuuuuuu, Kara Gillian,” the faas said, holding the bottle out to me.
“Thanks,” I said with an unsteady smile, realizing how much I really needed this right now. Faruk hopped up and down, teeth bared, then ran up the stairs on all six legs as though running on flat ground. For a second, I considered sitting, then decided against it. The way this day was going, it’d be against the rules, and I’d have to do the whole thing over or something stupid like that. Sighing, I lifted the bottle to drink and saw it had my name painted on it in delicate gold letters. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at that.
Reluctantly, I shoved off the wall and tackled the stairs again, thighs seriously shrieking. Walking tomorrow was going to be fun. I hate this shit.
On the last switchback, I sat heavily on a step, panting. My legs were shredded, so sitting and counting really slowly felt like the best plan. Screw the consequences. To my great annoyance, as I finished my count and pygah, Idris bounded up from below, grinning and sweating.
“Best view ever!” he said as he dropped into a squat beside me and began a quiet and methodical count.
“Yeah. Great view,” I muttered, giving him a doubtful look. With a groan I couldn’t suppress, I heaved myself to my feet and continued up the last section. I kept close to the wall, thankful that there was only a light breeze and no gusts. Holy shit, but this was seriously high.
“Kara! Hug the wall,” Idris called out from below. “I’ll be passing on the left.”
“Yeah. No problem there, dude.” I pressed my back against the wall to make absolutely sure I was out of the way, not at all liking the thought of getting knocked off these stairs.
Idris, the bastard, dashed up the steps, sometimes two at a time, obviously familiar with their varying heights. He passed me with a stopwatch in his hand and his face set with fierce determination and focus.
Frowning, I watched until he reached the top, my emotions churning between admiration and feeling even more inadequate. My throat went horribly tight. I sank to sit on a step and looked out over the ocean. I tried to hold it back, tried not to be a baby, but I couldn’t. There was too much. I gave in and let it flow in a full blown sob-fest. Lonely. Homesick. Missing everyone. Totally stressed out. Betrayed. Recovering from torture. Stuck here. Unsure of where I stood. All of it came up.
After several minutes I finally got my shit somewhat together and wiped my eyes. Letting out a long sigh, I dragged myself up and somehow managed to finish the climb, subdued and with everything hurting. To my dismay, as I reached the top, I saw Idris hurrying toward me. My eyes burned and felt swollen. Damn it. I sighed and plastered on a smile. Maybe it would pass for just being flushed from exercise.
But no. He moved in close, brow deeply creased with worry. “Um, Kara, you okay?”
“I’m good,” I said, plodding up the trail toward the palace without stopping. “Tired. That’s all. Lots of stairs, and I’m an out of shape clod.”
“Yeah. It’s a lot of stairs. You did great making it to the top!” He hovered beside me, a spring in his step as if he hadn’t recently bounded up, what, fifty plus stories?
I knew he didn’t mean it to be as patronizing as it sounded, but damn. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” I managed. “So, uh, Mzatal does this kind of thing a lot? Assigning exercise?”
“Yeah, he did at first for me,” Idris replied with a shrug. “I pretty much do it on my own now, though he’ll still come up with stuff sometimes.”
“You look like you’re in pretty good shape.” My legs didn’t want to move, but I trudged on. I didn’t want to lose what little momentum I had.
“I wasn’t when I got here,” he said. “I mean, I wasn’t a slug or anything since Katashi kept me moving, but it really took off once I came to the demon realm.” He peered anxiously at me. “You wanna sit down for a bit? There’s a bench up ahead, and the sunset’s gonna be awesome.”
Even as wiped out as I was, I still had enough perception to know that sitting down with Idris and watching the sunset would probably send the wrong message. “No. Thanks. If I stop, I’ll never get moving again. I just want to get back and collapse.”
“Um, yeah. Sure,” he said, visibly losing a little of his spring and looking crestfallen. “It’s not much farther.”
“Thanks,” I said. I really wished he would go on without me, but I couldn’t come up with a damned thing to say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
Idris continued at my side, almost saying something several times, then, thankfully, not. Once we reached the atrium, he finally showed signs of going his own way. “I, uh, guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Yeah. Thanks for walking with me.” I gave him a tired smile. “See ya, Idris,” I said as I turned for the stairs. More goddamn stairs. Yay.
“Bye, Kara,” he called out, and I could feel his eyes still on me.
I gave a final unenthusiastic wave without looking back and sighed in relief as I got out of his sight. And, even better, in another minute I’d be able to Stop Walking.
Mzatal sat at the table in the main chamber of his rooms, leafing through a journal. He’d changed from the black into a roomy blue brocade coat, and looked totally refreshed, his braid hanging over his shoulder now wound with silver instead of gold. The fucker.
He set the journal aside as I closed the door and gave me a gentle smile. “A long soak will feel good. Food will be waiting when you are finished.”
Something about the cover of the journal gave me a déjà vu memory moment, but I couldn’t place it and was too damn tired to try to figure it out right then. I gave Mzatal a faint nod and headed straight to the bath chamber, shedding my clothes along the way. I sank to my neck in the deliciously warm water of the pool, then pulled myself onto the shelf that served for lounging and rested my head in the smooth dip made for that purpose. I didn’t want to fall asleep, I told myself as I closed my eyes, just rest a bit.
I jerked awake to my name being called and a hand on my shoulder. Mzatal. “Shit.”
Mzatal crouched at the edge of the pool, holding a towel spread before him, ready for me.
“Shit,” I said again as I willed my jellified muscles to drag me out of the bath. Mzatal wrapped the towel around me as soon as I stepped out, then picked up another.
“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry.” I gave him a rueful smile as he dried my shoulders and arms then scrunched the towel through my hair. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. That was stupid.”
“You are tired and have had a challenging day,” he said gently, not seeming in any way annoyed. “Come.” He put his arm behind me and very lightly urged me toward the bedchamber.
I didn’t resist. “Challenging.” I snorted. “Yeah, that’s a word for it.” I clutched the towel around me as he guided me to the bed and pulled the covers down. I frowned, wearily casting my gaze around the room. “I don’t know where my night things are.”
“They are in the dresser,” he said. “Though you may be more comfortable sleeping as you would at home. I will bring something for you to eat.” He turned and exited to the main room.
I blinked at his back, wondering how the hell he knew how I slept at home. Then again, probably not much of a stretch considering he knew plenty of other intimate details about me. I set the towel on the end of the bed. Screw it. He’d seen me naked plenty of times already, and I slept much better in the nude. I groaned as I crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up. Tomorrow would be a day of hurrrrrrt.
Mzatal returned a moment later carrying a plate of the yummy cat-turd-looking things and some sliced fruit, and a glass of tunjen juice. I sat up and tucked the sheet around me as he held the glass out for me. “Drink at least half now,” he said as he set the plate on my thighs and smiled. “You will sleep deeply tonight.”
I obediently took a long drink of the juice. “I’m sorry I messed up the ritual.”
Mzatal shook his head and sank to sit on the edge of the bed. “You completed the first series, saw that which I could not, and you ignited the ring. The rest will come.”
I peered at him. “Oh. I thought you were…” I trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Mad” wasn’t right, but I was too tired to figure it out.
He met my eyes evenly, and I wondered if it had really been judgment I saw earlier in his face or simply my distorted perception. “I was—am—deeply pleased that you were able to work so intuitively with the sigils,” he said. “That ability is a vital element of this.” He laid a hand on my right ankle over the covers. I sighed in relief as the healing warmth spread up my leg. Though of course it did him no good for me to be crippled for a couple of days, so it made sense for him to make sure I could walk tomorrow.
“If we ever do get this blade, what happens then?” I asked. “I mean, to me.”
He tilted his head slightly and lifted a finger toward the glass of forgotten juice in my hand. “We will retrieve Vsuhl. After that, you continue to train. We have an agreement.”
I drained the glass and set it on the side table. “But what about the blade? You’ll have two of them.”
“It is my intention to hold it for Szerain,” he said, then moved his hand to my other ankle.
“Oh. Right. Makes sense.” I nibbled some of the food. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I knew I needed to eat something. “By the way, where do you sleep? I haven’t noticed you crawling into bed here,” I said.
“Qaztahl require far less sleep than humans,” he explained. “Usually only a night every ten days or so. Great potency drain or disruption also requires sleep for quickest restoration.” He glanced to the big comfy chair near the bed. “I slept there the night after your healing, and I’ve not required more.”
I gave a slow nod. When he woke me from the nightmare the other day, he’d been working in that chair, watching over me. “I feel guilty for putting you out of your bed,” I told him.
He gave my ankle a light squeeze and lifted his hand. “Such guilt is wasted,” he said as he stood. “Do try to eat more. You need it.” He poured more tunjen juice into my glass, then touched my shoulder briefly. “Sleep well, Kara.” With that he turned and departed.
I watched him go. He seemed to give an actual crap about me. But then again, so had Rhyzkahl. I sighed and ate a couple of pieces of fruit, then snuggled down under the covers. Mzatal needed me and wished to use me; he was quite clear on that point. It was his ultimate motives that I wasn’t too sure about.
I tried to push my doubts away, but even as tired as I was, it was a long time before I could sleep.