“Well met, Prince,” the male said, a spotted tail undulating over his shoulder. “I’m?—”
“Trophonios.” Tristan breathed the name in a reverent whisper, and his hope soared. The inventor of Delirium was themost legendary scientific mind on the continent. If he was part of the movement…
Trophonios turned to Ione. “He looks shocked to see me. Why is he shocked to see me? Did you not brief him on anything before you brought him here?”
“We took a little detour,” Ione answered, grabbing Tristan’s wrist and breaking him from his stupor. “May we come in?”
“Of course, of course.” Trophonios stepped aside and allowed Tristan and Ione to enter.
The ceiling soared above the eroded second floor, and metal shelves filled with glass jars lined the walls. The larger jars contained lumps of tissue suspended in liquid in increasing states of decay. Wormy trails of flesh swayed above the more deteriorated specimens. Tristan discouraged himself from guessing at the contents.
Three long tables ran parallel to the shelves, each brimming with polished tools and well-maintained contraptions.
At the back of the room, a blazing fire crackled in a large hearth, heating the room far more than necessary given the climate. Tristan wiped his brow, sweating even more profusely. Above the fire, several heavy iron pots released a variety of aromas—some earthy, some chemical, some iron-rich. A few were so pungent they stung his nostrils. He wondered if it was wise to spend a long amount of time in here.
As if sensing Tristan’s discomfort, Trophonios chuckled, then opened a window. “Apologies. I’m used to the smells by now.” He gestured to a worktable—the furthest from the hearth, praise Anaemos. “Come see what I’ve been working on. We made some wonderful progress while you were gone, Delphine. Just finished up the last of these beauties today.”
Tristan jolted at Ione’s title. The Delphine. The Goddess-blessed representative of Adelphinae on Ethyrios. He was reminded, yet again, of how much they still needed to discuss.
Trophonios plucked up a thin, silver cuff embedded with two specks of stone. One was a fire opal, the other a deep violet gem. Hundreds of similar cuffs gleamed from atop the table and in several barrels beside it.
“What do they do?” Tristan asked.
Ione glanced at Trophonios, raising a questioning eyebrow, and he answered, “By all means.”
Ione nodded, then turned back to Tristan. “A demonstration is in order.”
She snapped the cuff onto her delicate wrist, then placed a second on Tristan’s before pulling him out of the workshop. As soon as they stepped into the sun, Ione disappeared in a flash of rainbow light.
Join me.
Her voice penetrated his mind and hummed through his body—far richer and clearer than any windwhisper.
He glanced at the cuff and saw the violet stone emanating a soft glow. “How?” he said out loud. “I don’t even know where you are.” His voice reverberated along his limbs, the gem pulsing with the cadence of his words.
Top of the hill just ahead of you. Imagine arriving there, then tap the fire opal.
Tristan closed his eyes and gently tapped the ice-cold opal.
Suddenly, that piercing sensation stabbed his chest and he was pitched forward, his eyes dragging open.
The world fractured.
Rainbow shards swarmed him, then reformed abruptly as he found himself standing atop a large hill overlooking the jungle. He didn’t feel as ill this time, likely due to the short distance of the jump.
The canopy was thinner here, and fingers of brown water snaked through the greenery all the way to a shadowy mass uponthe horizon—a portion of the Icthian Mountains, crawling along the Dordenne.
Tristan lifted his wrist. “What are these?”
“We needed a way to quickly move our forces throughout the continent. So Trophonios made us some new tools. And came up with the ingenious idea to add mentrite, so we can use them like commstones.” Ione tapped the violet stone speck on his cuff. “The silver’s conductivity increases the energy of the stones a hundredfold. That’s why only small stones are needed. Trophonios has crafted enough to distribute throughout our forces.”
“How many members do you have?”
“Fighting members? Thousands. Plus a silent majority within two of the major territories—Cernodas and Akti—who have pledged their support once we’ve achieved our ultimate goal.”
“Which is?”
Ione squared her shoulders, a dazzling smile gracing her immortal features. “Taking Delos. And returningyouto the Crystal Throne.”
