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Over and over, I stabbed into the silence.
No response.
Are you stupid, too? Do you even understand how pathetic you are? Oh, you talk tough enough when a lord is holding you, but once they send you away, you’re stuck there in the dark. You’re nothing more than a glorified letter opener, imprisoned in a desk drawer.
Heat flickered through my scars. My mouth stretched into a feral smile. “I feel you, you obsolete shard of cheap tin,” I murmured. Aww, it’s like a warm hug. Is that the best you can do? A butter knife made out of cardboard could do better.
The heat wavered and shifted, scars prickling now with the faint resonance of Xhan like an assassin’s whisper. Without hesitation, I sent out another hate spear, seeking the pathway Xhan had used to reach me, and tracing it back toward its source.
While I maintained a barrage of taunts as a distraction, I worked my true purpose under their cover. The prickling flared, and I pressed my palm against my chest. Mzatal, I called.
Though he didn’t answer, I sensed him, like feeling the presence of someone in the room with you, even though they remain silent and out of sight. Yet my elation faded within the span of a heartbeat. It was Mzatal, but not as I’d ever felt him before. Subdued. Watery rather than molten earth fiery.
It was an abomination. Ilana. Ilana had reduced him to this, dimmed the light of his essence. My rage could have scorched the seas, but that wasn’t what I needed. Instead I poured my love and my heart into the thread of connection.
Mzatal. You are Mzatal. I am here. We will not let those bastards win.
I repeated it over and over as a mantra of will and truth, all the while taunting Xhan in order to keep the channel open and alive.
Hundreds or thousands of iterations in, the ghost-touch of Mzatal fluttered through my consciousness. His touch faded within a heartbeat, but one word remained.
Zharkat.
One word, one concept, one truth that none could strip from us. One word that told me he’d received and embraced my message.
A mantle of peace settled over me like a soft fall of leaves, and I drifted into sleep.
Chapter 33
My alarm dutifully went off at two a.m., and I forced myself out of bed before I could even consider the merits of more sleep. In a perfect world I’d have grabbed a quick shower to finish waking up, but I settled for dunking my face in a sink full of cold water. Same effect in a fraction of the time.
Pellini was already awake when I went to rouse him, and agreed to meet me at the nexus in ten minutes. After a brief search, I found Michael dozing on the back porch swing with Turek laid out at his feet like a giant six-legged alligator. I felt a brief stab of guilt that Michael wasn’t in a proper bedroom, then I saw the blanket tucked around him and realized there was absolutely no way my security people would have allowed him to sleep outside unless he’d expressly wished to do so. Besides, it was a lovely cool night, and he had Turek watching over him.
I crouched by the demon. “Any news?” I asked quietly.
He lifted his head, eyes luminescent violet in the shadows. “Michael glimpsed Szerain, but dwelt not long in the vision. We await your direction.”
“Will you be able to contact Szerain once we pinpoint his location?”
“Our essence bond is strong,” he hissed. “I will reach him.”
“Dak lahn, honored one.” A knot of tension unwound. “If you could wake Michael and bring him to the nexus in the next few minutes, we’ll begin.”
“It shall be done, summoner.” Turek’s manner and tone left no doubt that it would, indeed, be done.
With my compatriots awake and making ready, I limped across Rhyzkahl’s orbit. He sat with his back against the grove tree, eyes closed, and softly dappled with moonlight filtered through the leaves. The effect softened his features, making him look less imposing and more approachable. Though he didn’t so much as twitch when I stepped onto the nexus, I didn’t assume for an instant that he was asleep.
The super-shikvihr undulated with softly shifting colors around the center of the nexus, reassuring in its steady strength. I moved to the opposite side of the tree from Rhyzkahl and placed both hands on its trunk. The other times I’d come to the tree, I simply basked in the grove aura to absorb the subtle energy and often intangible benefits. My approach this time was far more direct.
Rho, honored grove, I need your support to reach Szerain. Whatever aid you offer, I receive with gratitude.
Warmth flooded my hands, flowed up my arms and through my body, driving off the slight chill. The pain in my knee eased from barely tolerable to nonexistent, and an unequivocal sense of support suffused me. With a wordless expression of gratitude, I stepped back, surprised to see that Rhyzkahl had retreated to the patch of irises near his house, and Pellini, Michael, and Turek were standing in the grassy ring beside the nexus, obviously waiting for me to be ready.
I grimaced. “How long was I standing here?”
“It’s been three days,” Pellini said. “We were getting hungry.”
I laughed and gestured toward the sky. “I call bullshit. The moon phase hasn’t shifted one tiny bit.”
