Okay, I know how stupid that is, I should have been giving thanks to Verra—who was, after all, only a couple of feet away—that I didn’t have their attention; but maybe I was temporarily nuts or something. No, I won’t say that. I won’t plead the excuse of being off my head. I remember clearly and coldly making the decision, and putting it into action.
My right hand left the vicinity of the Morganti weapon—which, powerful as it no doubt was, was certainly not going to do anything Pathfinder and Blackwand couldn’t do—and reached into my pouch. I made my motions small and smooth to avoid attracting premature attention and, almost immediately, my fingers found what I’d sent them after.
“Boss, do you know what you’re doing?”
“More or less,” I told him.
“Oh, good.”
It was, in fact, something that, years before, I had been warned in the strongest possible terms never to do again. But the first time I hadn’t had any choice. This time was different: this time I was irritated.
What I was about to do wasn’t like witchcraft: a focusing of the will, a concentration on desire; nor was it at all like sorcery: an almost mechanical application of known laws to achieve a precise result. When I’d done it before, years ago, it had been born out of anger, frustration, and desperation, and on top of it I had had my link to the Orb to provide the power to get it started. This time I had none of that—just the idea, which had been in the back of my head since my walk with Teldra, and the vague notion that I ought to do something.
But I did have a few things working for me: For one, the simple knowledge that I’d done it once before, which was by itself of incalculable value. For another, my memory, confused and imprecise, but there, of how that had felt, and where I had reached into myself, and how I had found those innate abilities inherited through the connection of my spirit to ancestors stretching back to when Sethra was young. And, for still another, I had the device in my fingers—a small, purple-blue stone, smooth as a pearl, which would act like the rendered goose fat that provides the basis of a good red pepper sauce.
I held it up.
Verra said, “Vlad!”
I remember her saying it, and maybe I was just concentrating too hard to permit myself to be distracted, or maybe I decided that this was a good time to ignore her. In any case, I reached into the stone, and into myself, and cut loose the moorings that held reality anchored to time that passes and the space that uses time, tried my best to give it some focus, and let it go.
I suddenly had the attention of all four Jenoine.
I smiled at them. “Hi there,” I said.
The two who were sitting rose to their feet far quicker than I’d have thought they could. I moved Spellbreaker, which was still spinning, a little to the side so it would be out of the way of whatever I was about to do, if I could do it. Something seized hold of the unreality between my fingers, and I felt it start to dissolve.
The two Jenoine moved toward me. I concentrated on them, imagined them dissolving into the raw, eternal, basic matter—or non-matter—of the universe, all coherence vanishing in light and shadow and formlessness.
“Vlad!” said Verra. “Don’t!”
So far, so good.
Suddenly, Aliera and Morrolan were free again—and I don’t know what had been done to them, but they didn’t like it much, because they both jerked back suddenly, as if simultaneously kicked in the chest. Morrolan sprawled on his back; Aliera managed to stay on her feet, but, to the extent that I could spare any attention for them, they didn’t seem happy.
Verra had stepped back from the one she faced, and was looking at me; Teldra emitted some sounds that I knew to be in the language of the Jenoine—her voice was even and level as it chirped and croaked and squeaked. Verra’s hands were up, and she was making gestures in my direction and Aliera and Morrolan were charging in again, and things got even more confused, as one of the Jenoine who had just risen said something in its own language, though it was hard to hear over the roaring sound that I realized had been steadily growing, and was coming from between my fingers, which was also the source of the reddish-golden light that was streaming out toward three of the Jenoine, who held their ground, their hands clasped together in front of them in a gesture of supplication, though no doubt it meant something else to them, and in the confusion, now that my little purple stone was entirely gone, and the light and the sound were fading, I drew the Morganti dagger to give them something else to worry about, but two of them were worrying about Verra, who seemed to have taken all the light into herself or at least she was glowing, and she seemed taller as one of them lifted its hands toward her, and another, who was still holding that odd tube, lifted it until it was pointed directly at the Demon Goddess, who said, “That was stupid, little Easterner; she couldn’t have hurt me with that thing.”
“What was stupid?”
“You okay, Boss?”
“What the-?”
“Welcome back, Vlad,” said Aliera.
“Back,” I repeated, at which point things came into focus, and I said, “Sethra! What are you—?” Then, “How did I get back to Dzur Mountain?”
“Over my shoulder,” said Morrolan.
“Damn,” I said. “I missed it, didn’t I? And I’ll bet it was fun, too.”
“It was successful,” said Aliera. “That is, we’re here.”
“How long has it been?”
Aliera said, “About an hour,” at the same time as Sethra said, “A week and a day.” They looked at each other, both started to speak, then looked at me.
I managed to say, “Never mind. My fault. I—what happen to my arm?”
Sethra hesitated, then said, “We aren’t exactly sure.”
“My arm doesn’t seem to be working,” I explained.
“I know,” said Sethra.
I felt my heart start to pound. Now was a hell of a time for it to start that. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I shouldn’t, then realized that it was all right after all. I made myself speak evenly. “I don’t know if I’m more frightened that my arm doesn’t work, or that Sethra isn’t sure why.”
“I hope to find out,” said Sethra.
I nodded. “Well, why don’t you tell me about it.”
Of course, Aliera and Morrolan started speaking at once, glared at each other, and so on. I waited patiently. Finally, Aliera said, “Do you want the short version, or the long version?”
“Just tell me what happened, all right?”
“We attacked them. There was a skirmish. You unleashed pre-Empire sorcery, which succeeded in freeing Morrolan and me from whatever was holding us, and also, it seems, broke whatever was keeping us from our gate. No one was hurt except you—”
“None of them?”
“No.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “They’re pretty tough, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” said Morrolan.
“Okay. What happened to me?”
Morrolan and Aliera looked at Lady Teldra, who nodded and said, “Yes, I saw it. You went forward toward one of them, holding the dagger—”
“—the Morganti dagger.”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “I don’t remember ... wait ... yes, I do. I remember drawing it and moving in.”
“Yes. Then one of them aimed some sort of weapon at Verra. You interposed yourself, and—”
“I what?”
“You interposed yourself between Verra and the weapon of the Jenoine, and were struck by it somewhere high on the left arm or shoulder.”
“I didn’t really.”
“You did, Boss.”
“You did, Vlad,” said Teldra.
“Why?”
Verra chuckled. Morrolan said, “I’d give my summer palace to know.”
“You don’t have a summer palace,” I said.