Текст книги "Touch of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

I stood and moved to retrieve a towel from the shelves. A wave of dizziness flowed through me and was gone, but as it retreated color leached from everything as an all-encompassing grey fog rose. Heart pounding, I went still as I struggled to make sense of the sudden, surreal shift.

Rhyzkahl appeared in the fog about ten feet from me, beautiful and terrible, wearing the same white and cream he’d worn during the ritual. I sucked in a shocked breath. Adrenaline dumped into my system, sending my heart pounding. He’s not really here, I realized, though that didn’t calm my racing pulse. It was a dream-sending. I knew from experience how real and potentially dangerous they were—an actual contact with the lord, not a product of my subconscious. This one had greater presence than any of the previous ones, like the difference between a black and white photo and one in color.

“Get the hell away from me!” I said, voice shaking.

He took a step forward. “Kara.”

“No. No!” I gasped, taking a reflexive step backward. “Get away from me!”

Rhyzkahl raised his hand, and I stepped back against an unyielding barrier of potency. “Kara, come,” he said softly. “It will be different.”

Sweat trickled down my sides as I fought back panic. “No you’ll makeme different!” I pressed back against the barrier. “Fuck off! I’m staying me!”

Rhyzkahl took another step forward. “Yes. That is what I am here to tell you. I will reverse all.” His eyes traveled over my scars. “ All.” His breath came heavily as though it challenged him to say this. “Come.”

His gaze felt like a foul touch. “I trusted you once,” I shot back with a curl of my lip. “Never again. You fucking torturedme.”

He stepped within a pace of me, aura surrounding me, suffocating me. “It can be undone,” he said with a shake of his head. “Dear one, it is not too late.”

“Yes it is!You can’t undo the fact that it happened, not without destroying me in the process.” My breath came in shallow gasps. He wasn’t even projecting terror at me in that way, but his presence alone brought it forth. “You’re the one who said it was too late, and now you sound like a psycho stalker.” I pressed back against the potency barrier. “I’m not going with you. I’ll nevergo with you. You can’t undo this.”

Another aura. Mzatal. I vaguely felt his arm across my chest, but it was as if he was the dream and Rhyzkahl the reality. Rhyzkahl sensed it too. He looked beyond me then snapped his focus back to my eyes and spoke with measured intensity, breath hissing. “You do not understand.” He caught my face between his hands. “Kara, all will be well. I will take you away. Away from here. Away from the realm. And you will be you and whole.”

Mzatal was there, somewhere—an invisible support. “No,” I said, baring teeth. “I do understand.” Though my heart still slammed, I gathered myself, gripped Rhyzkahl’s wrists and tugged, seeking to get his vile touch off my face. “I understandthat you would give me over to Jesral and those other fuckers. I understand you lied to me and betrayed me. I will never evergo with you. Get that through your blond head right now.”

A whisper passed through my mind, and I knew Rhyzkahl read the truth of my words. Good.

His breath quickened. He released my face and took a step back, hands lifted as though he still held me. A stricken look swept over his features, and he shook his head, looking strangely lost.

I felt Mzatal’s physical hold on me more clearly as well as his nonphysical touch. “Rhyzkahl. Leave me now,” I said as I took a step toward him, willinghim away.

He retreated another step.

A flush of determined anger seared through me. “Go! Leave me alone.”

Potency surged over me as he tensed and dropped his hands to his sides. “Ungrateful chikdah.” He spat the words and took another step back, visibly shaking in what could only be anger.

I blinked in true surprise at the slur. “Wow. Yeah, dude. A couple of pointers here if you want keep a girl. First, don’t torture her. Second, calling her ugly names is also a no-no.” I held steady to my core and the supporting presence of Mzatal. “Get away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“You think your savior’s hands are clean?” he asked with a short, cold laugh. “You will see me again. Soon.”

Mzatal’s encouragement to continue to resist and push came through clearly, and I did so with ferocity. I shook, there was no doubt about that. But I also had no doubt that I could and would push this fucker away. My fingernails bit into my palms as I rejected his presence with every fiber of my being.

Rhyzkahl took a forced step back and growled an angry curse. He turned his back on me, lifted his open right hand. “You had all within your grasp and cast it aside. You willbe mine.” He made a fist and ripped it forward, wrenching the dream-sending away.

I gasped and my knees buckled. Mzatal held me securely from behind, his left arm over my shoulder and across my chest until I could get my legs to support me again. I managed to do so, then pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Shit.”

Mzatal muttered something in demon as he half-carried me back into the bedchamber and settled me in his chair. He dragged the sheet from the bed and draped it over me, then crouched and peered up into my face.

“What was that?” he asked, naked concern etched in his features. “I could only peripherally sense it.”

I grimaced as my head throbbed. “Dream. A dream-sending from Rhyzkahl.”

“That was no dream. This has happened before?”

“Yeah, shit. A bunch of times on Earth,” I replied, rubbing my temples. “This time it was way stronger than before though. When I died, the link was broken, but he hooked it right back up next time I summoned him. The bastard.”

Mzatal laid his hands over mine at my temples and eased the headache, then drew my hands down into my lap and held them there. Without taking his eyes from mine he called out to Gestamar. “Have Idris prepare a purification now, with the last quadrant open. I will need to specialize it.”

I heard Gestamar’s acknowledging grunt from the other room. Mzatal squeezed my hands. “It would have been useful to know of this sooner.”

I gave the lord a sour look. “Well, he hasn’t done it in a long time, and I figured you’d tromped through my head enough to know every fucking thing about me. I mean you know what goddamn brand of tamponsI use.”

Mzatal closed his eyes and shook his head. “And understandable to draw that conclusion. But this is something I could not detect, and even when active, I could not follow it.”

That didn’t sound good. “Can you get rid of it?”

“I gathered enough during the contact to localize it,” he said, opening his eyes again and looking into mine. “I willdeactivate it.”

So far he’d followed through on what he said he’d do. No reason not to trust him in this as well. I managed a weak smile. “I guess training will come later?”

“Priorities. This first. Definitely this first.” He gave my hands a final squeeze then released them. “Tell me what happened,” he said, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

And I did. By the time I finished, a slight frown curved his mouth, and he seemed deep in thought.

“What is it?” I asked.

Mzatal shook his head. “He is dangerous in a new way. He has shown signs of true jealousy. I witnessed it clearly during the ritual, and it colored much of your interaction in the dream-sending.”

“He’s possessive,” I agreed “What’s so bad about that? I mean apart from it being totally psycho that it’s directed at me.”

“I have known Rhyzkahl for millennia, and he has nevershown jealousy,” Mzatal said with a slow shake of his head. “Possessive power displays between qaztahl, yes. That is normal for all of us. Personal jealousy such as he has shown is alien. It is not our nature.”

I took that in, though it was hard to get my head around the idea of the lords not being jealous. “Well it sure as hell looks like his nature now,” I said, scowling. “He seemed to lose it when I told him I would never go with him.” I put the puzzle pieces together. “You’re saying he’s an unknown because you don’t have a precedent for it, and therefore he’s dangerous. More dangerous.”

Mzatal nodded. “Yes, and we will need to take that into account.”

“What did he mean when he said, ‘You think your saviour’s hands are clean?’” I asked, watching him carefully.

Mzatal exhaled. “I have lived millennia, Kara, and done much that would revolt you. My hands are not clean.”

I realized I didn’t really want to know the details right then, not with everything else I already had to deal with. The fact that he hadn’t tried to dance around the question was sufficient—for the moment. I didn’t hold any illusions that he was a saint; he was a demonic lord, and I’d had a glimpse of his darker side.

I nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough, for now.”

He stood. “Go bathe, then come to the summoning chamber, and we will disengage this link. Gestamar will stay with you.”

I looked up at him and nodded, tension leaching out of me. He gave me a quick smile and departed, hands clasped behind his back. I watched him go, grateful to him on innumerable levels. Though I was the one who’d pushed Rhyzkahl away, I wasn’t sure if I could have done it without Mzatal’s support—at least not yet. I owed him big time. Again.

Was he keeping score? And if so, what would the payoff be?

Chapter 26

I tried to avoid thinking about the coming ritual as I made my way to the summoning chamber. It’s a purification, I told myself sharply. Not even as dangerous as a summoning, and I’ve done a kajillion of those.Didn’t help. The curl of tension still sat like a rock in my chest.

I stopped before the double doors, heart suddenly pounding a mile a minute. I didn’t reach for the handle to pull the doors open. I didn’t want to go in there. Bad things happened in summoning chambers.

He held his hand out, and I stepped forward and took it. He smiled down at me. Pain. Blood.

I startled as Mzatal placed his hands on my shoulders from behind, and I realized I’d been standing in one place, staring at the doors for what had to have been at least ten minutes, so absorbed I hadn’t even felt his approach. Yet he didn’t say anything, simply held my shoulders and let me know he was there.

“I’m sick of trying to be strong,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m not. I’m not strong at all. I fake it and pretend to be tough, but I can’t do this.” I shook my head in a sharp motion, eyes on the doors. “I…I can’t go in there.”

“In there or out here,” Mzatal said in quiet, resonant tones, “it is the same. It is a horrific ghost that haunts you, wherever you are. What you carry, what you fear, is as potent on this side of the door as it is within the chamber, though its manifestation is clearer there.” His gave my shoulders a light squeeze. “Your victory is in facing the ghost where it manifests strongest. Turn from it now, and Rhyzkahl triumphs, and you, and those you care for, no longer face a ghost but a certainty. Face it now with me beside you, and you are a step closer to banishing the ghost forever.”

I breathed out a curse. “Oprah needs to have you on her show,” I said sourly, feeling the truth of his words. I hated it, yet I also knew I had to accept it.

Steeling myself, I grabbed the handles and yanked. They opened far more easily than I expected, and only Mzatal’s hands on my shoulders saved me from toppling back on my ass. I grimaced. Yeah, this was a great way to start things off.

I headed through the antechamber and into the chamber itself. Idris was already there, standing by a much simpler and smaller diagram than the one that had been used on me previously. Mzatal moved past me to inspect the diagram, but I stayed where I was, near the door. Sigils twisted and glimmered a foot off the floor in ordered rings, mesmerizing even unignited. I tried to breathe normally and not like a hyperventilating chihuahua, but I could feel sweat pricking the small of my back.

“Do I need to do anything?” I asked Mzatal when he looked my way.

He shook his head. “There are no special preparations needed.”

I raised and eyebrow. “Really? No being led around hooded, and scary thrumming, and all of that? Really?”

“There will be thrumming during the process itself, but not before,” he said. “There is no purpose for that now, nor for a hood.”

Slick motherfucker.Now I understood. He pushed buttons as part of the damned assessment. Yeah, he’d needed to purify me when I first arrived, but the rest of it was all to see how I’d react. I leveled a scowl at him. “Is there anything in our agreement that says I can’t call you names?”

He crouched and added a few touches to the diagram. A very faint smile curved his mouth. “No.”

My own mouth twitched. “So, hypothetically, if I were to call you an asshole, there’d be no reprisals?” I asked with an innocent look. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Idris glanced up sharply, then hissed and drew back his hand as the sigil he was working on stung him.

“Nothing of that sort is covered by the agreement,” was Mzatal’s mild reply.

I chuckled under my breath. “I think I’ll just call you Boss.”

He glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow. I smiled sweetly in response. Mzatal straightened, turned fully to me, hands behind back and head lowered slightly, and still with the faint hint of a smile. “There could be consequences.”

I shrugged, still smiling. “What fun would it be if there weren’t?”

Mzatal lifted his head. “None whatsoever,” he said, his face betraying a hint of amusement as he moved to the center of the diagram.

My smile faded as he turned to face me. Somehow I’d forgotten the pesky detail where I had to go intothe diagram.

He held out his hand to me. My mouth went dry. Rhyzkahl had done this same thing—stood in the center of the diagram, invited me to cross over, to walk gullibly to my own doom.

My gaze snapped to the door of the chamber as I looked for the sigil that would seal it. No, it’s Mzatal’s chamber, not Rhyzkahl’s.Almost identical. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Stop being such a fucking pussy!I railed at myself.

Opening my eyes, I looked to him. He waited patiently, exuding calm and stability. I moved jerkily forward, like an automaton that hadn’t been oiled, but I made it to the diagram and passed through the sigils. I took his hand, all too aware that my own was probably gross and sweaty and clammy right now.

He gave my gross, sweaty hand a squeeze and ignited the diagram with a flick of his fingers.

“Thanks, Boss,” I whispered.

His eyes met mine, deep, ancient, and intense. “You are most welcome, Kara Gillian.”

He helped me down to lie on my back, then retreated from the circle. I closed my eyes and waited for the shit to start.

The next thing I knew, someone called my name and a hand squeezed my shoulder.

“Mzatal?” I blinked awake to see the lord crouched beside me, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. “It’s done?”

“Yes. The link has been cleared.”

I squinted at him as I sat up, my eyes feeling oversensitive to the light. “You okay? I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

He gave a quick nod. “With a triple pygah set above you, you would have found it challenging to stay awake, and I needed the stillness of your mind.”

“Well, it worked,” I said as I watched Idris clear the last of a support diagram that hadn’t been there when the ritual started. “It was hard?”

His mouth curved in a faint smile. “Rhyzkahl does not relinquish his treasures easily.”

“I bet he doesn’t.” I met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” He stood and held his hand out to me. “I searched for anything else that had been integrated using rakkuhrand found nothing.”

I pushed aside the thought of Mzatal digging through my head before it could weird me out. It had to be done. As I straightened my clothes, I found myself looking down at the deactivated glyph in the center of the floor. I frowned. There’d been a pair in the center of Rhyzkahl’s ritual. One had been Rhyzkahl’s mark, and the other one naggingly familiar though I couldn’t place it.

I nodded toward the glyph. “Is that your mark?”

He crouched and passed his hand over the glyph, igniting it to a soft blue glow. “Yes, with a few variations for this specific ritual.” He traced around a section with his finger. “Here is the core of it.”

“So any ritual you do has your mark in it?”

He looked up at me and nodded. “Yes, the qaztahl’s mark is the hub of any ritual in the demon realm.”

“In…in hisritual, his mark was there along with another. I didn’t realize it then, but it had to have been a qaztahl’s mark as well. Probably Jesral’s, right?”

“Yes, Jesral’s mark was there,” he said. He stood slowly, eyes on mine. “What troubles you?”

“It looked so familiar.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to place it. “I didn’t have time to think about it then though, y’know? But I’ve seen it before. On Earth.” I struggled to remember. “Shit.”

“Pygah,” Mzatal said, reminding me to use my resources. “That you’ve seen Jesral’s mark on Earth is significant.”

I called the pygah and breathed, but the connection still eluded me. “Damn it,” I said, knowing I neededto remember. “Can you, um, help?”

He smiled a bit, probably amused that I asked him to do something I’d so strenuously resisted before. “Yes. A simple prompt, nothing more.”

A second later, I knew. I could hear the water drip in the shower, smell the soap, feel the humidity of steam. “Tattoo,” I said. “On one of Katashi’s senior students. Tsuneo.” A smooth-faced Japanese man a few years younger than me who’d been studying with Katashi for five or six years. I didn’t know much more about him. Katashi didn’t have more than a few students with him at any time, and his more senior students tended to live and practice elsewhere, only coming to Katashi’s mansion for summonings. “It was down by his hip where no one would normally see it,” I continued, “but I walked in on him in the bathroom. It was small, but I knowit was the same.”

Mzatal went still, only the muscle in his jaw shifting as he ground his teeth.

“Why would one of Katashi’s students have a tat of Jesral’s mark?” I asked, not liking any of the answers I came up with.

Mzatal remained silent for another moment, and when he spoke, power boiled behind the words. “Only if Jesral has influence in Katashi’s enclave.”

Everything about that was disturbing. Jesral with a foothold in Mzatal’s Earth presence held implications beyond my puny knowledge, but I knew enough to label it a Really Bad Thing. “I guess it’s too much to hope that Tsuneo simply found it in a book and thought it would make a cool tat?”

Mzatal took my hand in a firm grip and strode toward the doors. We passed through the antechamber, crossed the corridor and exited onto the balcony.

He breathed deeply and closed his eyes as he released my hand, undoubtedly calling up the pygah. “A chance that he came upon it by accident? Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “Likely? No.”

I leaned on the rail and rubbed at my temples. “Shit gets more and more fun,” I said with a sigh. “So when do you start training me? I think I’m going to need it, and soon.”

He stood beside me, looking out to the sea and sky. “You need everything I can teach you, all that you can absorb,” he said, voice still brimming with power. “Meet me at the column at midday wearing clothing suitable for working out.”

I straightened and regarded his profile. The set of his jaw betrayed his deep turmoil. “You got it, Boss,” I said, laying my hand briefly on his shoulder before I turned and departed.

Chapter 27

Workout clothing? An ilius—Tata, I think—coiled out of my way as I passed through the main room and into the bedroom. To my utter shock, I found a tank top, something that looked very much like a sports bra, socks and shorts. Apparently the zrila had been busy sewing like, well, demons. I quickly threw the clothing on, then spent several frustrating minutes looking for my sneakers, finally finding them in the insane location known as the-bottom-of-the-wardrobe-where-they-belong. Crazy faas!

I raked my hair back into a ponytail as I headed out and reached the column just as the midday tone resonated through me. I looked up. It rose three stories or so, about ten feet in diameter at the base, narrowing gradually to a flat top that was half that. Though of the same ubiquitous basalt of the area, its polished surface glimmered in othersight as though coated with a thin layer of potency. As good a place to meet as any I supposed. What the heck did the lord have planned for me that required workout clothing? Exercise? The Arcane? I sucked equally at both.

A few minutes later Mzatal approached down the long path from the palace. I allowed myself an appreciative smile at his appearance. Barefooted and bare-chested, he wore loose pants of deep blue low on his hips, and a sleeveless and flowing knee-length open tunic in a fabric that shimmered impossibly between gold, maroon, and dark green. His braid hung over his right shoulder, though calling it simply a braid did little justice to the intricate weave. It had to be at least a dozen strands, wound through with cords of silver, gold, and bronze. He looked damn good.

As he neared I gave him a grin. “Nice duds, Boss. Looking sharp.”

With a glance and faint smile, he continued past me and to the column. Placing his right hand on the surface, he murmured something too low for me to hear, then clasped both hands behind his back and turned to regard me, smiling enigmatically.

I gave him a wary look. “What’s the plan for today?”

“This is where it begins,” he said, voice rich and intense, “and this is where it ends. The Primary Initiation.”

“Okaaay,” I said, totally baffled. “And what does that mean?”

“This segment of training begins now and ends when you survive the execution of a perfect shikvihr atop the column.”

Survive??I tipped my head back to look at the column. How the hell was I supposed to climb that thing?

I dragged my eyes from the column and back to Mzatal. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

His smile didn’t waver. “No, I am not. It is an arduous undertaking, and one that will serve you well.”

I frowned. Clearly I was missing something incredibly obvious. I hated weird challenges like this, because I always seemed to miss the really obvious thing. “Okay, lemme make sure I have this straight,” I said. “I have to climb this smooth, really high column and then do a shikvihr? I don’t even know what that is yet.”

“The shikvihr is a full pattern lay, consisting of eleven rings with eleven sigils per ring,” he explained patiently. “It is a ritual foundation that greatly enhances ability to control and focus potency. When done properly, it flows like a harmonious dance. The column will adapt to the level of your preparedness. Step back ten paces, and I will demonstrate an initiate level shikvihr.”

Yeah, I was off to a great damn start. I backed up the requisite distance.

Mzatal turned to the column and placed both palms on it, murmuring low again. As I watched, the surface of the column began to flow and change. Ridges and footholds appeared and disappeared in an undulating rhythm. He ascended with a grace to make Nureyev weep, shifting effortlessly from each protrusion to the next as they ebbed and flowed around him. Some of the ridges couldn’t have been more than an inch or two deep, yet Mzatal seemed to glide up the column like a rock climber in zero gravity.

I craned my neck back as he reached the top and began what looked like a dance, or kata. He flowed around the perimeter of the top, a hair’s-breadth from the edge at times, laying sigils in a flowing chain, with movements so beautiful it made my heart ache. With a final sweep of his hand he ignited the sigils, sending a resonant tone through the column that vibrated my teeth in an impossibly good way.

Another wave of his hand dissipated the sigils. He descended as beautifully as he’d ascended, then placed a hand on the column again. It shimmered and became dormant. He turned and beckoned for me to approach.

“This was without the distractions that accompany the final trial,” he said with a slight smile.

I suddenly felt like a fifth grader who’d been handed a calculus test. Only a few weeks ago I’d been so damn confident in my summoning abilities, yet now there was no denying there were majorgaps in my knowledge base.

Throat tight, I gestured to the column. “I don’t even know how to begin, to get to…” I shook my head. “I don’t know anyof this.”

“It is why we are here,” he said, exuding calm. “It is why we are training. You willknow it. You willunderstand it intimately. You willbe able to dance the shikvihr even though the world breaks apart beneath your feet. It is your foundation. It is your salvation.”

Clearly, he’d never seen me dance. “Okay, fine. What do I do first?”

“You climb,” he said, placing his hand on the column again. It shimmered and then a narrow stair spiraled around it to the top.

Nice that the column has a “kindergarten” level, I thought. “Just climb?” I asked him.

“To the top. Go.”

I gave him one last doubtful look, then started up the stairs. I fully expected them to start shifting beneath my feet, but they remained stable, though they seemed to narrow considerably the higher I climbed. I kept my back pressed against the column and took my time, and finally eased up over the edge.

A swell of potency engulfed me like an emptiness needing to be filled. I dropped to my knees, fighting the surge of panic as I realized the top of the column wasn’t solid. I knelt on a perimeter about a foot and a half wide, but in the middle was a two foot diameter…hole? I didn’t know what it was. Deep blackness radiated potency like a ravenous maw, and whatever it was, I knew I didn’t want to step on it. Or touch it. Or be anywhere near it.

Panic continued to claw at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, called up a stupid pygah, and focused on my breathing. I didn’t have to see the hole to feel it, and even shifting out of othersight didn’t do much. It still lurked there, dark and unknown, sucking at me, tugging with questing fingers.

I had no idea how long I was up there doing my impression of a treed cat, but at long last I cracked my eyes open and peered down at Mzatal.

“Can I come down now?” I called, damn near pleading.

Eyes on me, he nodded. Getting back onto the narrow stairs was the hardest part of the climb, but I managed to crab my way down. By the time I reached the ground I was drenched with sweat.

Scrubbing at my face, I trudged back to Mzatal. Look at me, I couldn’t even stand on the top.Trust me to flunk kindergarten.

Yet when I looked into his face, he was smiling. “Many do not make the climb,” he told me. “Some who make the climb cannot step onto the top. It is a start. Your body rebels more than your mind.”

My spirits lifted a fraction of a smidge. “You mean I didn’t fail?” I had a hard time believing that I managed to get through something others couldn’t, especially as fucked up as I currently was.

He shook his head. “You did not fail, and it was indeed a trial, its outcome determining the course of your training.”

I snorted. “You needed thisto find out I don’t know shit?”

His mouth twitched. “That I already knew. I needed to know something more of your heart and your mettle.” He looked up toward the column. “The void can consume the resolve of even the most stalwart.” He returned his attention to me. “And now we train your body.”

He stepped into a wide stance—one arm stiff to the side, wrist flexed, and the other straight out in front, palm forward—and beckoned for me to copy it. I did so, though a thousand times klutzier. From there he led me through a kung-fu-tai-chi-yoga type of routine that left me sweating and shaking. At first everything in me screamed that it sucked—it was exercise, after all—but it was so freeing that by the time we were done, I was almost sorry it was over. Almost.

I felt the grove activate as we finished. “Someone’s coming.”

Mzatal went still. “It will be Seretis. He is early.” He straightened, adjusted his tunic. He wasn’t sweating or even breathing hard, the bastard. Luckily, I was doing enough for both of us.

Though I’d never actually met Seretis, I remembered the lord’s quick smile as he’d passed me on the way to deal with the anomaly at Rhyzkahl’s palace; seen a glimpse of his character as manifest in the residence he shared with Rayst. And Michael Moran had certainly spoken highly of him after our snowball fight. “Why is he here?”

“He asked to meet with me concerning a matter raised at the conclave.” He looked past me, down the steep, rocky slope that dropped from the far side of the column. “Do you see the pile of bricks at the bottom of the hill?”

I peered that way and saw a stack of dark basalt bricks about twenty-five yards away. “Yeah.”

“While I am gone you will move ten of those bricks from the pile to the base of the column.”

I blinked in astonishment and almostasked him if he was fucking kidding, but managed to hold it back. He wasn’t. Not one little bit.

“Sure thing, Boss.” I scowled and picked my way down the hill while he turned toward the grove. Yeah, and I intended to sing “It’s a Small World” in my head the next time his mind-reading-ass was trying to concentrate.

The bricks weighed probably about ten pounds each, which wouldn’t have been too bad to carry over flat terrain. But the hill had a slope of about forty-five degrees, and ranged from rubble to thigh high “steps,” which meant that this particular exercise suuuuuuucked.

Gestamar landed by the column as I reached the top of the hill. “Heya, Gestamar,” I said breathlessly.

He rumbled in what I suspected was amusement. “Greetings, Kara Gillian.”

As much as I liked Gestamar, I didn’t want to waste breath with casual conversation. He simply continued to watch while I lugged brick after brick. The uneven footing and the climb over the big shelves made the whole thing one big pain in the ass. By the ninth brick my muscles were pure jelly. I was sogoing to hurt tomorrow.

“A long bath in the hot pool will serve you well tonight,” Gestamar said, rumbling louder, and this time I knew damn well he was laughing.