“Mzatal,” I replied with a slight nod.

He moved toward me, and for the barest instant I had the bizarre impression that he was going to hug me, but then he clasped his hands behind his back in standard Mzatal-pose. “You seem more yourself.”

“I’m…better.” I still didn’t feel totally like me, but at least I knew who me was. “So what now?”

Mzatal opened the door without touching it. Convenient trick, I figured, since he had his hands behind his back so much. “Come. The plexus is stable.” He glanced back at the spinning orb, then headed out. “We can talk of what is to come next in more comfort.”

I cast one last glance at the orb thingy, then followed him.

Chapter 24

We went back down the corridor and entered the archway of the solarium. The high ceiling as well as the wall opposite the archway were constructed of glass. It reminded me of Rhyzkahl’s arboretum without the trees. The glass doors stood open to the balcony and the expanse of sea beyond, and fresh air touched with salt flowed over me. The side walls alternated wide vertical bands of the natural dark stone and softly gleaming gold, embossed with scenes of demons and humans. Near the balcony waited two low, comfortable-looking chairs with a table between. It felt as though they’d been arranged for this moment.

Mzatal gestured to one of the chairs. I sat, nerves beginning to set in as he took the other. Shit was about to get real.

“How was your journey?”

“It was very interesting,” I said, smile twitching briefly. Somehow I doubted that Mzatal would have approved of the more dangerous parts. “And I don’t feel like I’m about to break into a million pieces anymore.”

Mzatal smiled—the most genuine smile I’d ever seen on him. “I can feel it. You will be able to move forward now, no longer mired.”

I sighed. “Helori explained why it isn’t in my best interests to return to Earth right now, and how I need to be better prepared, better able to protect myself and others, before I can go home.” I still hated it, but I understood it. “He also says that you can be trusted to abide by your word.”

He gave a quick nod. “I do not break my agreements with summoners.”

I spread my hands on the cool wood of the table. “Then why don’t you start with the terms you desire, and then we can go from there.”

“A simple framework,” Mzatal began. “A five year agreement to provide summoning services from this realm and from Earth, as required and specified in the agreement. One full year of training here before assessing the possibility of return to Earth. You will take no action that is against my best interests—which, by the end of a year, you will know how to discern. I will provide full training—all that you are able to absorb.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Five years?” I asked, incredulous. “No way. Nothing more than three years, and we will decide together the possibility of my return to Earth after six months. And in the event of an impasse, Helori will make the final decision.”

A frown touched his mouth at my counter-offer, but I had a feeling he’d deliberately asked for a larger amount of time, knowing I’d bargain it down. “Consideration at six months or beyond only on the condition that you have passed the shikvihr initiation.”

Shikvihr. I frowned. Where had I heard that before?

From Rayst, I suddenly remembered. “How far along is she in the shikvihr?” he’d asked Rhyzkahl. That ritual foundation thing.

“I can’t agree to that when I have no idea how long that typically takes to master.” I leaned back and folded my arms. “For all I know you could be placing this condition on a skill that takes decades to learn.” Helori said I could trust him at his word. He hadn’t said a damn thing about the part that came before actually swearing the oath.

“Calvus Atilia passed the shikvihr initiation in seven months. The longest any has taken to pass it is eighteen months.”

Well, eighteen months sucked. So I’ll study my ass off, I told myself. “Very well. I also want to be able to send and receive messages from home, via whatever agents you might have in place on Earth or by my own means.”

“It can be arranged,” he said, eyes on mine. “Through me.”

I pursed my lips. “Will you respect my privacy?”

Mzatal inclined his head. “As you will be in agreement to act only in my best interests, yes.”

I steeled myself for the next point I wanted to raise. Rhyzkahl had sworn not to harm me—on Earth, which hadn’t done me a fat lot of good. “I—” My voice cracked. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I want to discuss what would happen in the event that I were to fall into the hands of another lord.” I met his eyes. “I don’t want to become anyone’s thrall.”

He leaned forward. “First, I will do all within my ability to keep that circumstance from arising,” he said. “There are possibilities of implants for recall and such, though there is always the chance of those being detected.” He paused. “There are other, more drastic options.”

I spoke as quietly and calmly as possible, though my voice still had a slight quaver. “I expect you to do all in your ability to keep such a situation from arising and to extricate me should precautions and safeguards fail. I expect you to do me no harm at any time during our agreement, regardless of location, realm, dimension, or other locale, with the sole exception of a scenario where, in your best and most honorable discretion, you believe that I would prefer death, or a scenario in which the lives or fates of innocents would be spared by harming or killing me.”

Mzatal listened carefully. “Define harm.”

“Shit that hurts that I don’t want done to me!” I snapped, then winced at my outburst. “Sorry. I…I mean physical injury or maiming as well as any sort of arcane torture. And no mental harm either. Or memory stripping.” Damn it, I knew I was missing stuff. What good would this agreement do me if I fucked it up? I dropped my hands into my lap and clutched the fabric of my shirt beneath the table.

“There must be conditions,” Mzatal replied calmly, “otherwise training will be impossible. One would be to do you no willful or nonconsensual harm. Accidents can occur in training, as well as times when harm may be a part of the process.” His expression was reassuring. “In other ways, I will not seek to harm you.”

“R-right. Yeah. No willful or nonconsensual harm.”

There was more after that, though nothing anywhere near as unnerving or fraught; details and fine tuning concerning training and protocols, that sort of thing. Nothing leaped out at me as being onerous or untenable, and after what was probably a couple of hours, the sun set and papers were drawn up in English and demon, with Ilana and Helori verifying that the translation was precise. We signed in ordinary ink and then swore to it, with about as much drama as the times I’d been sworn in to testify in court. Yet I had no doubt that the oath was just as binding as if we’d chanted naked and signed in blood. Probably far more so, actually.

With the agreement signed and sworn on, I felt oddly at loose ends, though relieved to have the details out of the way. I pushed down the niggling fear that I’d missed some loophole that Mzatal could use to take advantage of me, and held onto Helori’s assurance that Mzatal was true to his word.

“So what now?” I asked.

“First, the balcony.” Mzatal stood and picked up a wine bottle and glasses from the side table. I followed him out into the pleasantly cool night. He exhaled softly, appearing to relax as soon as he was in the open air. It didn’t seem as if he disliked the indoors, but more as if he craved something that could only be found in wide open spaces. Even sitting behind the glass of the solarium seemed to confine him. Or maybe I was reading far too much into it.