“I have known Rhyzkahl for millennia, and he has never shown 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 into the 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.”