Touch of the Demon

vertex. We will construct the binder here.” He swept his arm in an arc a few feet from the thing. “Set a quadrant of portal anchors. That will be very useful.”

Portal anchors. I could handle that. Maybe. I mean, I was pretty sure I could, though I’d never done them in a quadrant before. I started to turn toward the perimeter, then grimaced. “Wait, I can’t.” Sighing, I tapped the damn collar. “I can’t touch the arcane.”

Rayst snorted softly, reached and slid his hands around my neck, then slipped the collar off.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling in relief as my sense of the arcane flowed in. “But you know I have to blame that on you as well, right? I’ll throw you right under the bus, I’m warning you now.”

“Since it is already done, agreed,” he replied, eyes flashing with humor.

With the collar off I could see more of the anomaly. In the light phase, brilliant rays flashed from it. In the dark phase, all light sucked into it, and even the room dimmed. I moved to where Rayst had indicated and began to puzzle out how to do a quadrant of anchors. I finally set it up in the way that made the most sense to me, yet after a few minutes I had to wonder if I was doing it wrong. I felt as if I was wrestling six octopuses at once. Was it supposed to be this difficult?

“Ah, Rhyzkahl comes, and he is not pleased,” Rayst said, smiling as if that was a good thing. With a few flicks of his hand he set sigils around my quadrant, though I thought I caught a slight frown as his gaze took in how I was holding the anchors. “Now set a basic ktirem to hold it stable, and we have our foundation.”

“A…what?” I could barely hold the anchors. How the hell was I supposed to do something else, assuming I even knew what it was?

“A ktirem,” he repeated. He quickly traced an unfamiliar pattern and anchored it to the quadrant. “You can hold it, yes?

Gulping, I shook my head, oddly embarrassed at my fumbling efforts. The quadrant had been bad enough, but now I felt like I was trying to sprint while wearing a loaded backpack. “I don’t know how,” I gasped. “I’m sorry.”

Rayst exhaled, brow furrowing as he took in the structure of my anchors. “Why do you have it—” He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished, but I had a feeling it was something like “Why do you have it in that godawful fucked up configuration?” or something similar. I had to be doing something wrong. Why else would I already be so wiped out?

But obviously Rayst didn’t have time right now to teach me how to do it properly. He quickly laid strands of potency on each of my anchors, then gathered them and passed them to me. “Now hold that like you would a veil for a portal. All you need do is not let go.”

I gathered the strands to me, relieved and ashamed, feeling as if I’d just been handed training wheels. Rhyzkahl entered with long strides, angry cast to his face as he took note of my presence. He stopped across from me and began to add to Rayst’s pattern. “You were not to move,” he said, eyes going from me to Rayst.

“He forced me,” I said breathlessly, jerking my chin toward Rayst and giving him a slight wink.

Rhyzkahl began to speak, but Rayst cut him off. “How far along in the shikvihr is she, Rhyzkahl?” Even as exhausted as I was, I could tell it was one of those probing questions like “So, what sort of books does your child read?”

Rhyzkahl’s face went dark and dangerous. He began to trace fluidly, merging his work with Rayst’s, but with a distinctly harsh edge. He lowered his head and spoke in demon to Rayst.

The other lord shook his head and raised an eyebrow as he replied, eyes still on Rhyzkahl. Meanwhile I wondered what the hell a shikvihr was if asking about it could piss off Rhyzkahl so much. And I couldn’t even wonder that for long. The two lords were definitely having an effect on the anomaly, but each yank of their pattern sent my own strands wavering. I continued to hold, but I was fast approaching the point of not being able to do much of anything.

Rhyzkahl made a slashing gesture that sent a wave through the pattern, accompanied by a single word that I had a feeling was Enough, judging solely by tone and body language.

Rayst replied with two words, and I didn’t have to know demon to know it was something awfully close to Fuck you.

The two lords worked in tense silence. I wanted to watch, see Rhyzkahl in action, but I didn’t dare pull any focus away from my own pattern.

Without any warning, the anomaly disappeared with a crack.

My pattern collapsed along with it. I took a staggering step to the wall and slid down it. Sitting felt like a really good idea at the moment. How the hell could Idris do all this stuff so easily? What the hell am I doing wrong?

Rhyzkahl straightened, gave a slight nod to Rayst in what was probably effusive thanks, considering his current mood, then said a single word and held out his hand, palm up. Rayst pulled the collar out from within his robes. My heart sank at the sight of the damn thing. I hated it. Hated. These past few minutes had been glorious, even though I clearly didn’t know what the hell I was doing. How could I possibly go back to being so muzzled?

But to my surprise, Rayst paused before setting it in Rhyzkahl’s open hand. “Why the need for the collar, Rhyzkahl?”

Rhyzkahl snatched it from Rayst’s grasp. “Because there are eight other qaztahl in my domain,” he practically snarled. “And I do not care to have her touched.”

“Ah, yes,” Rayst said. “A valid concern most assuredly. Then why not simply add an addition to the guest oath specifying that she is not to be deeply read?” He smiled. “I will gladly offer mine first.”

Well, this was interesting. I stayed very still and quiet and did my best not to draw any attention to myself.

Rhyzkahl’s gaze remained intense upon Rayst. “Then offer it,” he snapped, followed by a phrase in demon. I frowned. Why couldn’t Rhyzkahl have done this from the start so that I didn’t have to wear the collar?

Rayst repeated the sentence in demon while swirling the fingers of his right hand against his left palm, coalescing a marble-sized sphere of potency. He offered it to Rhyzkahl with another few words that sounded formulaic. Rhyzkahl took it and said something back, then tightened his hand around the glowing ball. When he opened his hand again the ball was gone.

Apparently satisfied, Rayst glanced back to where I sat oh-so-elegantly against the wall. “Kara, you need rest.”

I gave him a weary smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna sit for a bit first.” Rayst took a step toward me.

“I will tend my summoner,” Rhyzkahl nearly snarled as he moved swiftly to my side and crouched.

“Sorry,” I said with a grimace. “I guess I overdid it a bit.”

“You did well, dear one,” he said, touching my cheek before lifting me smoothly in his arms.

I looked over at Rayst with a warm smile. “Thanks,” I said, meaning it on several levels.

“Rest well, Kara Gillian,” he replied, then turned back to clean up the residuals of the anomaly while Rhyzkahl departed with me.

As the distance from Rayst increased, the tension in Rhyzkahl faded, leaving me wondering if the two had some sort of antagonistic history. Rayst seemed perfectly nice to me, but I’d been fooled by an easy smile before. There was every chance I was only seeing what he wanted me to see.

I leaned my head against his chest, enjoying the warm feeling of being carried and cared for. Rhyzkahl cradled me close, murmuring something in demon as he walked.

“Why didn’t you have the lords swear from the beginning not to read me so I wouldn’t have to wear that stupid collar?” I asked.

A measure of the tension returned to his neck and shoulders. “The collar was far safer for you and for my interests,” he said, then exhaled. “Yet I sensed how deeply you despise it, which is why I accepted Rayst’s compromise. The lords will still be able to read your surface thoughts, but none will dare delve once I have secured their oaths.”

“Thanks,” I said, relieved. I was damn glad to see the last of that stupid thing. “What’s a shikvihr?” I asked, unable to hold back the yawn.

He didn’t answer for several heartbeats. “A shikvihr is a ritual foundation,” he finally said.