“No,” Viz says, checking a note on a piece of parchment before shoving it back in his pocket, “but he asked me to fetch Quill too, so it must relate to the security breaches.”
“Quill would’ve heard from the patrols if there’d been any more visitors to the lake,” I point out. The Morphos never used to need any security the keepers couldn’t provide, but after the souls started going missing and the keepers spotted unknown figures at its edges, I set up a guard to check the perimeter regularly.
“True, but maybe he’s come up with a way to keep the lake safe on top of the patrols,” Viz reasons. “Shoring up our defenses might be a better use of our time.”
I know his game, and it’s a struggle to keep from rolling my eyes.
“You mean, a better use of our time than trying to go after the ephilium for whatever they’re up to.”
“It just doesn’t seem like the Strata visit went all that well,” he says. His jaw probably aches from holding back a smug smile.
“It wasn’t a waste of time,” I snap. “We found smiting marks. Five. Spread over two locations. And the locals didn’t know what the buildings in question were being used for.”
Viz is already scribbling everything I say down, but now his pencil pauses. “And her injuries?”
I grit my teeth. “I made a mistake.”
It was difficult to control my anger around her. Every time I looked at that bruise or saw her wince from the slash in her side, it tore at me. I’m still furious with myself for being so stupid. I of all demons should’ve remembered that humans can be fragile.
“But I’m going to rectify it,” I say firmly. “We’ll make sure she’s stronger before we send her out again.”
Viz lifts his eyes to study me instead of his parchment. “I imagine it was unpleasant, possessing her while she was attacked.”
“Yes,” I say, searching for the words and not finding them. It’s not that I was in pain, precisely. I didn’t actually feel like my own skin was being sliced, nor did I experience the sensation of a fist colliding with my jaw. But I didfeelit on some level. A kind of internal damage, raw and tender, that rattles me even now when I think about it. “It was…vivid. Much more so than witnessing violence in normal circumstances.”
Viz is looking at me sympathetically, but his pencil is still hovering expectantly over the piece of paper in his hand.
“You’re desperate to write that down, aren’t you?” I say, huffing a laugh mixed with a sigh. “Can I have a single revelation without you wanting to document and cross-reference it?”
“Well, it’s interesting!” he says, defending himself. “Most demons don’t experience a possession link this strong. It must be the binding spell those sorcerers used.”
“Yes,” I say, deciding not to protest when he starts writing again. “That must be the reason.”
But I’m going to make sure I don’t have to feel that way again.
I push the thought aside for now as we arrive at the edge of the Morphos. Quill is already there, prompt as ever. He straightens when he sees me approach, though he stops short of a full salute. It took me decades to train that habit out of him. I had to keep reminding him that I’m his lord, not his general, no matter how long he served in Kaliban’s army.
Yealey’s slight frame makes an interesting contrast to the burly soldier as he wades to shore.
“My lord,” he says, holding up a hand in greeting. “Thank you for coming. Quill, Chamberlain Vizmodeus,” he nods to the others.
“Don’t thank me, Yealey,” I say. “You know I’m keen to hear any updates on the lake. How’s it doing?”
Yealey pulls a face. He’s lost weight recently. This is a hard time to be a keeper, something he’s always described as more of a vocation than a profession.
“Not well, I’m afraid. The waters are troubled, and the souls within them even more so. I fear that if things continue, they may refuse to rise.”
“That can happen?” Quill asks.
“It hasn’t for close to a millennium,” Viz jumps in, eager to share. “But records show that therehavebeen periods of stagnation for the Morphos in the past. Decades when no one rose after too much unrest in Infernum or Strata.”
“At least we know now what’s causing the upset,” Yealey says. My head turns sharply toward him.
“We do?”
“I don’t knowwhoexactly is responsible, but it’s clear now why some of the souls are getting lost. The other keepers and I have been working on some calculations, testing the waters with runic meters.” He locks eyes with me, his hands twisting with worry. “Some of it is missing.”
“Missing?” I repeat.
