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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.
