Isaura watched the man and waited for him to agree. She had studied the spells that had to be worked to transform a being into one of her mother’s elite. While they could be worked on someone who was reluctant, that reluctance blocked them from enjoying their full power. A sullanciri created by Neskartu, as was evidenced by Ganagrei and the other lesser sullanciri, would not be as powerful as those transformed by her mother. Myrall’mara, Nefrai-kesh, Nefrai-laysh, Neskartu, and Ferxigo had been blessed among her generals and fashioned by her hand alone. The lessers had been worked in concert with Neskartu, but Spyr’skara would be the first he had done without her.
And this is why he needs me. While Neskartu was extremely powerful, his core humanity hampered him. Though he had learned much since his transformation, certain concepts about dealing with the Aurolani school of magick eluded him. Isaura, whom Chytrine had tutored personally for decades, had grown up understanding that system. She could work the grander spells that would contain and reinforce the transformation.
As she had been taught, magick itself flowed through reality in a massive, surging river with eddies and currents, rapids of varying severity and deadly sinks that could suck down even the most careful of mages. Human magick did not recognize the river for what it was, but thought magickal energy just a pool from which the substance to work spells could be drawn. Human mages did recognize dangers in dipping magick from the pool, so their spells were arranged to be a series of handholds and belay lines that would prevent them from slipping too far into the pool and drowning.
While their prudence doubtlessly saved many a foolish mage, it also prevented them from accessing deeper, purer power. A thirsty man might settle for any water, but given a choice would go for cooler. Human magick never allowed its practitioners a chance to find that cooler water and, hampered as they were, they remained unable to truly grasp that they were dealing with a river.
The elves and urZrethi had progressed enough to know that the pool did have motion in it, and that some energy was better than others, but still the idea of the river escaped them. Neskartu had learned enough to perceive motion and different currents of different values, but the vastness of the river escaped even him. Isaura suspected he was afraid of how much power could be had, and afraid that he might just dive into it and never surface again.
That latter fear was one she had known when she first had her eyes opened to the true nature of magick. Her mother allayed that fear by showing her how to read the river. Isaura now could follow the flows. She could look forward and back, spot eddies and sinks. With a thought here or there she could navigate across the flow to reach those currents she required to perform her magicks.
The Azure Spider lifted his head. “I accept.” He glared sidelong at the pirate queen. “I move beyond you.”
The blue energy flared, and the man’s clothing instantly combusted into an azure flame. The man writhed, though the fire he breathed in so seared his throat that he could make no sound. He fought for a moment, then the flame closed around him in a tight blue shroud. His feet rose, his arms came in. For a moment or two his elbows, head, heels, and knees stretched the shroud, then the shape solidified and flowed into something akin to an egg, retaining the blue hue and exhibiting a spiderweb pattern in black over the surface.
The egg hovered in the air and Vionna pulled back. “What are you doing to him?”
That which will please my mistress. That which will allow him to fulfill her desires. Neskartu shifted his gaze to Isaura by floating his eyes around to the left side of his head. You know your part, Princess.
Isaura drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then closed her eyes. She invoked a simple spell that allowed her to see things in the realm of magick. By this sight, Vionna did not register at all. Neskartu appeared to be much the same as always, and the Thaumatorium glowed green with the residual effects of countless magicks.
The man inside the egg had taken on the grey of ash. Stepping forward, Isaura invoked another spell. She reached her hands up, and they passed through the sides of the shell as if it were not there. Had she desired to do so, she could have reached into the Azure Spider’s chest and with the brush of a finger stilled his racing heart. She knew that could be done because she had seen it done with animals, but her mother had only done that so Isaura could learn to set it to beating again before the soul had left the body.
With her hands in place on his head and heart, she concentrated and felt the river flowing around her. There was little for her to see and less to hear, but currents raced past, teasing and buffeting—at times playful and at others resentful. The most violent she let slip past, then found one that suited her needs. Isaura drew it into her, then projected it into the man.
Pure magickal energy flowed into him, dissolving his physical nature as quickly as boiling water dissolves inkstone powder. The energy flooded into the shell, roiling and rising, fighting the confines. Surges shot to the apex, then dripped back down again, unable to escape and seeking a place to run.
A surge of energy from Lord Neskartu injected itself into the mix. It provided direction through a complex series of spells. Isaura caught hints of urZrethi magick, but since the object was transformation, that hardly was a surprise. Other bits and pieces, elven and human, swirled past, then odd things joined them. Neskartu had clearly been fashioning some magicks of his own. They came from human roots, but had been woven differently and were unrecognizable.
Is this the betrayal my mother fears?
Though no answer came to that question, the magicks the sullanciri employed did their work. The Azure Spider shook and twitched. His spirit clawed at the new shape in which it was imprisoned. She could feel the man’s outrage and shock, but she did not pity him. She could understand fear, but she knew the rewards her mother would grant for serving her. In the world free of southern tyranny, he would be among the most grand heroes, worshipped for all time.
It is done, Princess.
Isaura nodded and drew her hands back, then returned to her place. She I blinked, canceling the spells she’d cast, and slowly smiled at Vionna. “It went well.”
The pirate queen had paled and stared wide-eyed at the floating egg. , “What did you do?”
One last burst of power flowed from Neskartu and toward the egg. The floating ovoid blazed blue, then began to shrink. From the size of a man’s torso, it shrank slowly and silently to something barely larger than a hen’s egg. At the last it drifted to Vionna and she cupped it in both hands. The magickal cord connecting it to the sullanciri snapped and she almost dropped the egg.
He will rest now. You shall keep him close to you, nestled against you, for warmth—his, not yours.
She shook her head. “I am not some hen to incubate an egg.”
Neskartu’s thoughts lashed her. You are what my mistress wishes you to be. And not a hen, a courier. Spyr’skara is required in Meredo a day hence.
Vionna frowned. “Impossible. That journey would take months.”
My mistress knows you fail at the possible, so she would not set before you the impossible. You will be conducted there. When you are, open the egg and release him.
“Will it be safe?” The pirate queen looked at the egg. “He was not pleased with me before, and I suspect he will be less so now.”
He will do as bidden and, for now, he is bidden not to harm you. You have a more important task, for you shall take the princess with you.