If I ever get back to Earth, I thought with a sudden burst of homesickness. I did my best to push it aside while I allowed Faruk to coil my hair up into something cool and intricate. By the time I finished preparing and stepped out into the main room, Mzatal had returned and was patiently waiting for me.
“I’m ready,” I said, doing my best to keep at bay the insistent trepidation of being in the chamber with a ritual, any ritual. Fucking Rhyzkahl.
His eyes traveled over me, assessing. “You are indeed.” He took my hand. “Come.”
Mzatal’s hand felt good in mine. Strong, comforting, and simply present. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I was grateful for the contact. Some of the tension within me eased as we exited and headed to the summoning chamber. I didn’t have to participate, simply observe. That was safe enough.
Idris crouched in the center of an impressive pattern. He looked up as we entered and gave me a quick smile before returning his focus to the diagrams.
Mzatal gently disengaged from my hand to go examine a nearby section of the pattern. I crouched and peered at the tracings, fascinated by their beauty and complexity. I understood some of the sigils now, saw how they linked together. No way could I lay a pattern like this yet, but it was wonderful to start seeing that there really was a pattern.
“Dude. This is amazing.”
Idris’s gaze jumped to me and then back to the diagram as a proud smile spread across his face. “Thanks.” He made a final tweak to a section, then stood. “My lord, it is ready.”
Mzatal rose fluidly to his feet. “And well done,” he replied with an approving nod. He began to add an overlay of tracings with impressive speed and elegance. I retreated to the wall to watch and stay out of the way, while I struggled, with a modicum of success, to follow what he was doing.
Mzatal glanced over to me. “To summon from here requires the addition of patterns not accessible to summoners.”
“So a demon-side summoning is, by its nature, a partnership?”
“It is most definitely a partnership,” he said, continuing an outer perimeter of tracings. “You will feel the shift in the energy as I lay the over-pattern. It becomes more central and focused.” With that he touched it, igniting the entirety of the already glowing pattern into a glittering, flickering, utterly beautiful construct.
It also reminded me way too much of Rhyzkahl’s initial diagram, even though the patterns were different. Palms sweating, I quickly looked away, found a spot on the opposite wall to focus on while I breathed deeply in an effort to slow my racing pulse.
“Idris,” Mzatal said, “go prepare. We will summon upon your return.”
Idris nodded and departed. As soon as he was gone, I dropped to a crouch and pressed my forehead to my knees, holding my fisted hands on top of my head. I shook and cursed under my breath, trying to focus on how much I hated Rhyzkahl instead of how much the patterns freaked me out. I’m a summoner, damn it, I railed at myself. I can’t do that, can’t protect myself if I can’t stand to be near a ritual.
I felt Mzatal’s presence, but he didn’t move to rescue me, for which I was strangely grateful. Simply knowing he was there and aware of me was enough for the moment. After a few minutes I lifted my head and forced myself to stare at the pattern, to look at the actual sigils and identify their purposes. Hey, look, I was getting better at this whole not-panicking thing.
Idris returned, dressed in black jeans, boots, and a black silk shirt. Confidence seemed to shimmer off him. This was his turf. There was no doubt he felt most comfortable working a ritual diagram. Gestamar entered behind him and crouched silently near the doors.
“We will bring Katashi in,” Mzatal said, “and I will assess him.” His voice remained intense, verging on scary. “Once the perimeter is down, Gestamar will escort him to secure chambers” He held his hand out for me, and I took it, grateful. After drawing me to his side, he headed around the diagram, pausing to lay a hand on Idris’s shoulder for a heartbeat before continuing to the opposite side of the pattern from him.
As soon as we were in place, Idris began. Mzatal spoke to me in a low voice as Idris initiated the call and proceeded through the ritual, explaining precisely what Idris was doing and why, and detailing the aspects that were different from Earth-side summonings. I listened intently, not only for the knowledge but also because the running commentary helped remind me that this ritual was nothing like the one I’d endured.
Idris anchored the portal with a smooth precision that impressed me deeply. Mzatal lifted a hand, focusing the diagram, continuing to explain what he was doing and why. Idris glanced up at Mzatal, saw that he was set, then made the call for Katashi.
My hand tightened convulsively on Mzatal’s as the diagram flared. I quickly relaxed my grip, embarrassed at my reaction, but Mzatal simply kept his hand firm on mine.
A heartbeat later Katashi sprawled in the center of the diagram. The glowing pattern faded, leaving the room in comparative darkness.
Mzatal set a sigil alight in the ceiling, casting the room in a pale yellow glow. In the circle, Katashi struggled to his hands and knees, breath rasping. Despite everything, a whisper of sympathy stole through me. I knew how much summonings hurt.
Jekki bounded into the room as if on cue, slipped through the floor tracings to hold a basin and towel out for Katashi. He took it with shaking hands, murmuring thanks.
I shot a glance at Mzatal to see his eyes narrowed to slits. On the other side of the diagram Idris smoothly gathered the flows and sealed the conduit, a look of pleased satisfaction on his face. Mzatal released my hand to stand with his hands clasped behind his back, and I moved a few feet away to let him do the full Lord thing.
Katashi finished wiping his face and stood with the help of the faas. He turned to Mzatal and gave a formal bow. “My Lord Mzatal,” he said, voice shaking slightly, which surprised me. I’d never known the old man to show even the slightest bit of worry or strain. Across the diagram I could see Idris frowning, so apparently it surprised him as well. Well, what have you been up to, old man?
Mzatal lowered his head. “Katashi.” His voice was potent and terrifying, much like when he’d first summoned me.
Katashi flinched under the Scary Voice. “What is your will, my lord?” he asked, voice shaking even more. Crap. Was he about to have a heart attack? If so, I sure as hell wasn’t going to do CPR on him. But right now he looked guilty as hell about something.
Mzatal snapped his gaze to Idris. “Drop the perimeter.”
Idris quickly complied. Eyes still narrowed, Mzatal lifted his right hand and beckoned Katashi forward with a twitch of his index and middle finger.
The old man straightened as calm seemed to settle over him. His gaze flicked briefly to me, lit with a strangely desperate intensity. My cop-sense woke up. He’s about to do something.
Unfortunately, my brain was too slow to listen to my cop-sense. In the blink of an eye, Katashi lunged and clamped his hand on my left wrist in an iron grip. I let out a startled yelp and backpedaled, but an instant later recovered and slammed a fist into the old man’s face. Eilahn would be so damn proud. But Katashi was a lot tougher than he looked, and even though my punch caused him to stagger back half a step, it didn’t budge his grip. He bared his teeth and tightened his hold.
I hauled off to slug him again, but faltered as a too-familiar tugging sensation shot through me from his hand on my arm. A recall! Panic flared. I opened my mouth to cry out for Mzatal to help me, but he clearly sensed it as well. With a sharp flick of his hand, he whipped out a tether of potency to loop around Katashi’s forearm. He dropped back into a wide stance and yanked viciously on the strand, severing the wrist with a hissing sizzle. Katashi opened his mouth to scream as I staggered back, but in the next instant he was gone.