Elidyr made several more trips to visit Sinnoch over the years, both before and after he graduated from Morgrave. And when he developed the idea of finding a safe way to employ symbionts as living weapons, he’d returned to the Nightwood and asked Sinnoch to help him. The dolgaunt was skeptical at first. Why should he wish to help humans when they despised his kind so much, when they took every opportunity to hunt aberrations down and destroy them?
“Because it’ll be more interesting than sitting here alone in your cave,” Elidyr had said.
Sinnoch thought over these words for a time before finally nodding.
The dolgaunt wasn’t his friend-Elidyr had no illusions about that. But there was an understanding between them, a connection that Elidyr was hard-pressed to define but which was real nevertheless. Sinnoch’s motivation for helping with the project was simple-he found the idea of an army of impure princes amusing, and he found the challenge of creating such an army intellectually stimulating. Nothing more. But it was enough to gain his assistance, and without his intimate knowledge of Xoriat’s chaos energy, Elidyr would never have been able to construct the Overmantle. So what if the others didn’t trust Sinnoch? Elidyr didn’t blame them in the slightest. After all, he didn’t fully trust the dolgaunt himself.
Sinnoch moved toward the Overmantle. One of his shoulder tentacles snaked out from under his robe and stretched toward the device. The tentacle tip began touching the crystals, seemingly at random.
“There are no guarantees, Elidyr, especially when dealing with the forces of chaos. You know this. We could perform a dozen successful tests of the Overmantle and still fail to safely open a portal to Xoriat the next time. The best we can do is to fine-tune the crystals and hope for the best.”
Elidyr sighed. He knew the dolgaunt was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Then I suppose we should get to work.” He reached for a thaumaturgic rebalancer and got started. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lirra sat before her dresser mirror, staring at her reflection in the dim glow of the candlelight without really seeing it. She was thinking about what had occurred in the testing chamber that day … and what might occur there the next.
She’d changed out of her uniform and into a roomy white nightshirt that stretched down to her ankles. It wasn’t the most flattering of outfits but it was comfortable and, more importantly, warm. Summer nights in Karrnath weren’t nearly as cold as winter ones, but they could get chilly enough.
A soft knocking came at her door. She rose, crossed the small bedchamber, and quietly opened the door.
Rhedyn stood there, still dressed in his uniform.
“I couldn’t sleep. Can I come in and talk for a while?”
“Of course.”
Rhedyn entered, and she closed the door, once again careful to do so silently. Rhedyn stood in the middle of the bedchamber, looking around.
Without thinking, she said, “It’s not as if you haven’t been in here before, you know.”
He looked at her and smiled sadly. “True, but it has been some time since my last visit.”
Lirra instantly regretted her words, but she couldn’t take them back, and she didn’t know what to say to relieve their sting. A single candle resting on the nightstand illuminated her room, and in the soft light the shadowy cast that always covered Rhedyn’s form appeared even darker. It was an eerie effect, made the more so because she knew he was minimizing it. If he wished, he could draw the darkness around him like a cloak and virtually vanish in the shadows.
“I wanted to talk with you about tomorrow,” Rhedyn said. “About what it might mean for us.”
Lirra frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Rhedyn took a step toward her, and without meaning to, Lirra took a step back. She regretted doing so, but she couldn’t bring herself to move any closer to Rhedyn.
He gave her a sad smile. “I’m talking about what you just did. Things haven’t been the same between us since I bonded with my shadow sibling. You have difficulty looking at me sometimes, and you can’t bring yourself to touch me. Even being physically close to me makes you uncomfortable.”
She opened her mouth, intending to tell Rhedyn it wasn’t true, but she respected him too much to lie, so she remained silent.
Rhedyn continued. “I don’t blame you. How can I, when I understand better than anyone the nature of the creature I’ve joined with? I knew when I volunteered to receive a symbiont that it might end our relationship, but I chose to go ahead anyway … chose to do my duty.”
As his superior officer, Lirra knew she shouldn’t ask this next question, but as his former lover, she couldn’t stop herself. “Do you regret your choice?”
“As a soldier, no. But as a man …” He took another step toward her. “Very much so.”
Lirra didn’t move away this time. She gazed upon Rhedyn’s features, and in the candlelight, the perpetual shadow that cloaked them didn’t seem as unnatural. And if the candle was out, she thought, his shadowy aspect wouldn’t be noticeable at all. She almost reached out to touch his hand, but the thought of the cold, oily way his flesh would feel stopped her.
“You said you wanted to talk about tomorrow,” she reminded him. “What of it?”
“If Elidyr’s experiment proves successful tomorrow, it will provide an opportunity for us.”
Lirra frowned. She had no idea where this was leading.
“I cannot-will not-give up my shadow sibling. As an impure prince, I can serve Karrnath in ways others could never hope to. And as long as I remain bound to a symbiont, I will repulse you physically.” He paused. “But if you were to accept a symbiont …”
Suddenly, she understood.
“You believe that if I was bound to a symbiont, I would no longer fear your touch, and we could be … close once more.”
“Yes. At least, that is my hope. I would never ask you to attempt to bond with a symbiont naturally. The process is … difficult in ways that I cannot easily communicate.”
Lirra thought of her earlier conversation with Osten in the lodge’s great room and how he described being bonded with a symbiont. “I think I understand … at least a little.”
“But if your uncle succeeds and we’re able to control the bonding process so that the host remains dominant, then being bonded with a symbiont is no different than carrying any other weapon.”
“Except a weapon isn’t fused with one’s flesh,” Lirra pointed out.
Rhedyn ignored her comment. “I’m not suggesting you volunteer to join with a symbiont tomorrow. But if Elidyr’s machine works …” He reached up and gently took hold of Lirra’s arms.
She drew in a sharp intake of air at his cold, clammy touch, and despite herself, a look of revulsion passed across her face. Rhedyn held her for a second longer before letting her go.
“Just think about it. Please.”
Then he moved past her, careful not to come too close, and departed the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Ksana stood outside Vaddon’s bedchamber, hand raised to knock on the door. But she hesitated. Not because she felt uncomfortable disturbing him at that hour. It wasn’t all that late, and despite a lifetime of military service that had trained him to rise with the day’s first light, Vaddon was something of a night owl. No, the cleric hesitated because she wasn’t sure if she should interfere. She’d been Vaddon’s friend for several decades and had fought by his side on numerous occasions, and she knew that the general valued her counsel. But she was always careful not to force that counsel upon him too often. Still, Vaddon had been the one to request that she serve as healer for the Outguard, and he knew that Ksana wouldn’t limit her contributions to simply repairing wounds and relieving illness. She smiled. So if what she had to say was going to make Vaddon angry, he was only getting what he’d asked for.