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“All right.” I gave a grudging nod. “It’s obviously a complicated relationship, but I’ll trust you to trust him for me.” I angled my head. “Speaking of complicated things, are you going to give me some sort of training or FAQ on how to use Vsuhl properly?”
Mzatal went still, and I felt the connection between us thin slightly as if it had grown distant. “Beloved, Vsuhl was not recovered for your use,” he said in a quiet, grave voice. “It is Szerain’s blade.”
The odd change in his mood had me baffled, but I forged on anyway. “I know that,” I said. “But I’m its bearer now. Wouldn’t it be safer if I knew how to actually use it while I have it?”
“No,” he said firmly, brows drawn together. “You are safe when it is
away. You are not Vsuhl’s bearer. You are its custodian. It is Szerain’s blade.” His aura flared with each sentence, as if to punctuate it. “Too much for a human.”
I’d taken a step back without realizing it. “Right,” I said. “Okay.” My throat felt tight, and I took another step back, feeling the sting of the rebuke. Had I said or done something wrong? Maybe I’d messed up when I used the blade the day before, and he was mad about it? “I . . . I’d better go work on the shikvihr,” I said and turned to go, bewildered and hurt.
He reached out and caught my shoulder, pulled me to him. I didn’t resist and let him hold me close. Tension kept his body rigid, and though he said nothing, I felt his pain and regret that he’d upset me.
I sighed against him, did my best to not be a ninny. There was obviously a lot more he wasn’t telling me, but now wasn’t the time to push the issue.
“Yaghir tahn,” he finally said, voice soft. Forgive me. “The matter is complex and fraught.”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” I looked up at him and forced a smile. “I’d better get started on the seventh ring.”
He hesitated briefly, then released me and stepped back. “I will be there to culminate it when you are ready.”
I nodded, turned and departed, smile slipping as I headed outside and to the column. The connection Mzatal and I shared was incredibly intimate, amazing and profound, yet it did nothing to balance the massive difference in the power dynamic between us. It wasn’t an issue of one of us being more “in control” of the relationship than the other. This was a flat and simple: “He’s super powerful and can read my every thought, and I’m . . . really good at feeling what he needs and helping him be super powerful.”
I reached the column, began some basic warm-up movements. No, it wasn’t a flat and simple anything, I realized. Our partnership benefited us both, and the shikvihr was a perfect example of it. Learning it from him with the added input I gained through our bond, I understood nuances of the creation process that would be impossible to grasp from words and demonstration alone. I knew it on a deeper level, which ultimately enhanced it. Yes, I still had to create it and weave the sigils in their rings completely on my own, but what I ended up with was simply awesome.
With my psyche thus soothed, I began to dance the shikvihr. The first six rings flowed out of me without hesitation, igniting perfectly and carrying the deeper resonance that showed they’d been culminated by a demonic lord—like hitting the enter key on a computer. They drifted in slow rotation around me, a foot above the ground, colors shifting and sparkling.
The seventh ring poured from me effortlessly as well, each sigil joining harmoniously with the next as I traced and danced. I felt the grove activate with Kadir’s arrival, but I ignored it, utterly focused. Nine sigils, ten. I’d never played sports, but I knew now what it meant to be “in the zone,” because I was dead center. Even the awareness that Mzatal watched from beyond the outer ring didn’t faze me. I had this shit.
I traced the eleventh and last sigil in the ring, ignited the series, then looked over at Mzatal with a proud and silly grin on my face. “Pretty, ain’t it?”
He moved carefully through the rings, hands behind his back as he assessed. “Well done, zharkat,” he said with a warm smile.
“Thanks,” I said, exultant. I wiped sweat from my face with my sleeve. “Now hook ’em up so you can send me to Earth.”
He chuckled low. “We must work on your lack of assertiveness, beloved.” He kissed me lightly then moved behind me, draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. I leaned back and carefully followed his method as he wove the rings together. Without this step, the seventh ring was little more than a pretty circle of sigils.
“Now ignite the whole,” he murmured.
I took a moment to savor the accomplishment I’d worked toward for months, then ignited the unified rings in a flare of potency that left me dizzy even as it infused me. Mzatal held me to his chest and rewarded me with a rare delighted laugh that echoed through our connection.
“That’s even prettier,” I said with a grin as I shifted to face him.
“So it is.” He held me close and gave me a toe-curling victory kiss, then broke it reluctantly, and nuzzled my cheek. “The ritual will be ready in less than two hours. Ilana will bring you to the nexus at that time.”
Still smiling, I kissed him soundly then dispelled the rings. “I’d better go bathe and pack.”
Chapter 4
I returned to the rooms I shared with Mzatal to find that Faruk had already carefully packed my duffel. To my delight and relief, the sweet faas had not only included my Earth clothing, but she had also selected a variety of the lovely garments made for me here in the demon realm by the clever little demons called zrila. After thanking Faruk effusively for saving me the trouble, I tossed in one or two little keepsakes, then made a quick trip to Idris’s room.
The faas had straightened up, made the bed, and put clothing away, but otherwise everything in the room was the same as Idris had left it four months ago. I found his hairbrush in the bathing chamber and pulled a few dozen blond and curling hairs from it, then put them and his toothbrush in a small cloth bag. Arcane power was cool and awesome, but DNA testing was pretty damn neat as well, and I intended to find out once and for all if Idris was my cousin.
I put the cloth bag in my duffel, then had nothing to do but wait with zero patience for the ritual. At long last all was prepared, and Ilana transported me down to the black sand beach near the nexus, saving me the walk down the bajillion stairs that hugged the cliff face. Running up them had become an almost enjoyable mind and body clearing ritual. However, it also cleared the pores with gallons of sweat, and since I didn’t really want to arrive back home a sodden mess, I expressed my deep gratitude to Ilana once we arrived on the beach. Though I didn’t see her, I knew Eilahn was somewhere close by, watching.
To the right the waterfall ended its five hundred foot plummet into a deep sea pool. To the left stood a large raised circle of basalt surrounded by eleven dark columns—Mzatal’s nexus. Unlike the utilitarian nexus Rhyzkahl and Jesral had created in the rainforest, this structure had stood for millennia as an augmented arcane hotspot that capitalized on a convergence of power flows. Eleven was the “magic” number for arcane work in the demon realm, based on the eleven lords, the qaztahl, who kept it all flowing. Above the surface of the nexus a hundred or more floaters of brilliant colors twisted and drifted, while Mzatal and Kadir stood on the far side, deep in a debate over the best means to finalize the section of sigils before them.
I felt the readiness of the ritual, the thrum of potency. Cold fear threatened to pry its way in, warning me of the perils of entering a ritual, especially one that had been formed by one of the Mraztur. I trust Mzatal, I reminded myself. Besides, there was no fucking way I was going to show fear in front of Lord Creepshow.
