“Ka’s side. What you’d call the Concurrence.” He scratches at his scraggly beard as he examines the triangle, then spots my blank look. “Veridius didn’t tell you about the Concurrence? Who we’re fighting? Why you’re here?”
“No. I told you, he didn’t send me. I’m a student at the Academy, and he’s the Principalis. That’s all.” Not quite the truth, but close enough.
“Oh.” Caeror studies me. “Oh.” Not quite dismayed, but definitely taken aback.
He reaches around and presses the obsidian in his hand against the base of his skull, immediately exhaling through clenched teeth and bracing himselfagainst the wall, the motion allowing me a view of the delicate inscribed lines on the triangle’s surface. Writing? Too small to properly make out, but it looks like a series of glyphs rather than letters. Reminiscent of Nyripkian script, I think, but I’ve not had enough exposure to the language of the far north to be certain.
Caeror takes his hand away, back still to me. The obsidian remains embedded in place, no blood, as he straightens, ignoring my concerned look and moving to the edge. Peering downward.
“So this is probably all a bit of a shock,” he says eventually.
I cough a laugh, still a hint of pain in the use of my lungs. “Something like that.”
“What do you actually know about all this, then, Vis?” Continuing to peer over the edge.
“Not much.” He finally glances around at me. “Almost nothing.” He doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes. “Well, I knew there was a place called Obiteum.”
Caeror stares, then gives a soft, incredulous laugh of his own. “Then why in thegods’ gravesdid you run the Labyrinth? I’m going to assume it wasn’t for fun. Or by accident.” He pauses. Thoughtful. “Though, that would be onehellsof a story.”
“I was trying to figure out what happened to you, actually.” He leans and gazes out toward the ground again, and I shuffle apprehensively, eyes fixed on his nape. Is it my imagination, or is the writing on the obsidian there glowing a faint green?
Abrupt movement tears me away from my inspection; a four-foot-wide circle of polished black stone appears just outside the triangular entrance, snapping into place level with our passageway. It’s inscribed with those same Nyripkian-like glyphs, larger but no less enigmatic to me. It emits a barely audible, rhythmic whine as it hovers.
Caeror watches it and then, apparently satisfied, gestures accommodatingly toward the floating disc. As if politely offering me to precede him through a doorway.
I look at the reflective sliver balancing a thousand feet above the ground, then back at him. “No thank you.”
“It’s safe.”
I bare my teeth in resistance, but he raises an eyebrow and points until Iscowl a reluctant accession, moving grudgingly over to the new, and very small, extension to the ledge. “This isn’t a Will platform.” Caeror’s eyes have remained a calm, clear brown as he watches me.
“Not as you would think of it.” He taps the triangle on his neck. “From the war with the Concurrence. It really is safe. And just to reiterate, we don’t have anenormousamount of time,” he adds, the hint of a concerned edge to his voice.
Vek.
I crouch. The platform’s surface seems to tremble slightly under my examination. The ground I can see beyond is distressingly, breathtakingly distant.
Vek, vek, vek.
I’ve trusted Ulciscor’s brother this far, I suppose.
I place a steadying hand against the slanted doorway, then one cautious foot onto the circle before glancing back, still half hoping I’ve misunderstood. Caeror just nods me on cheerfully. I brace myself and gradually shift my weight forward, until it’s clear that the obsidian isn’t going to move beneath it.
Heart in mouth, I step fully on.
Out from the protection of the passageway, the wind immediately threatens my sense of balance; as soon as I’m completely on the disc I carefully sit, facing away from the exit to give Caeror room, lungs burning again from the close-to-panicking breaths I’m having to take. The surface beneath my palms is cool, uncomfortably smooth except for the furrows of the inscriptions.
A moment later, I feel Caeror’s back settling against mine as he joins me.
It’s only when I finally pluck up the courage to twist, glancing over my shoulder, that I realise we’ve already begun our descent. The shadowed pyramidal hole is twenty feet above us now. A red glass wall fills my vision, curving away, infinitely more vast than my memory of it.
“Don’t forget, Vis. The skies on your side are your responsibility.” Caeror’s voice is taut with concentration as he senses my shift.
“What am I looking for?”
“Gleaners.” He remembers who he’s talking to. “Enemies. Really,reallyunpleasant enemies. Who can fly. So if you seeanything, even just a dot on the horizon, you let me know.”
I face forward again and fix my eyes on the blank blue expanse. “Even if it’s just a bird?”
