by Amy Sumida
“Fact four; my brother is an idiot,” Aaro added.
“Which one?” Binx smirked.
“Oh, nice one!” Jago fist-bumped Binx again.
“The Inlonka fled the Zone,” I said over their banter. “That's a fact.”
“A fact which leads us to a reasonable assumption,” Slate said. “For the Inlonka to leave, down to the last man, woman, and child, they must have feared something terrible and they believed it would hurt them.”
“There's one other fact relating to the Inlonka,” Jago said grimly. “When Gargo attacked, they helped to defend the Zone.”
“So?” Binx huffed.
“So,” Slate growled at his brother, “whatever they foresaw, it scared them more than an invading army led by a God.”
That shut Binx up. Hell, it shut us all up.
Chapter Eight
“We need to know what the Inlonka saw.” Slate crossed his arms and stared at the other men as if daring them to suddenly start spouting prophesy.
“They're not the only seers,” I reminded him.
“I don't think we have another Felinae medium here,” Aaro countered.
“I meant the Felinae,” I clarified. “The Nagas are rather good at it too.”
“That's right,” Slate murmured. “It's something about being coldblooded. Cold like the dead. Most Naga psychics are mediums and seers.”
“Again, I don't think we have any,” Aaro noted.
“You're wrong,” Binx said but no one was listening to him.
“Nagas are more secretive about their gift,” I pointed out. “They only share it with a select few. You have to be invited to be read.”
“So, there could be a naga seer here that we don't know about,” Jago concluded.
“There is one,” Binx huffed.
Again, we didn't catch it. In our defense, most of what Binx says it useless.
“And if there isn't, I know where to find a Simban seer,” I offered.
“The one from the Beneather Bazaar who you mentioned earlier?” Slate asked.
I nodded. “One way or another, we'll find out what's coming for us.”
“I know a naga seer!” Binx shouted.
We all turned to stare at him in shock.
“What?” Binx huffed. “I have friends.”
Aaro chuckled. “Yes, but we're not sure we want to meet them.”
“Whatever,” Binx muttered as he headed for the privacy of the other end of the office. “Give me a minute to make a call.” He pulled out a cellphone and started dialing.
“Jago, put a team together and start searching for tunnels,” Slate ordered. “Start in public areas then move to private if you have to. And if you do have to go into people's homes, do so respectfully.”
“Of course.” Jago straightened his shoulders and strode out, tossing back a, “I'm a gentleman.”
Slate rubbed a hand over his face in an I'm-doomed manner. “I can't believe our best chance at figuring this out is contacting a psychic friend of Binx.”
“I could always call my father,” I offered. “Witches have some talented diviners too.”
“Gods, no,” Slate groaned. “The last thing I want is your father here, staring at me as if I'm failing his daughter. Again.”
“He wouldn't do that.” I chuckled.
“He does it constantly.” Slate eased up and grabbed my hip to pull me against him. “But it's okay; I get it. I'm the low rung on the totem pole.”
“There are no rungs on totem poles. You've been hanging around Binx too much; he's melting your mind,” I teased him. “And if you're low, it's because you do your best work at that level.”
Slate's laugh burst out of him; he threw his head back with it. When he met my gaze again, his eyes were still full of amusement. “Thank you for being here with me. I know you called Torin this morning to cancel your visit to Onyx.”
“As if I'd leave you in the middle of this,” I scoffed. “I'm here for as long as you need me. And Torin said he'd gather the guys and join us if you need them too.”
Slate grunted. “I'd rather not call in the cavalry quite yet.”
“I figured.”
Aaro cleared his throat, reminding us that although Binx was across the room, we still had an audience.
“Sorry.” I looked over my shoulder at Aaro and the other men.
“Not at all,” Aaro said graciously. “I just wanted to interject that we might need all the help we can get. Our troops are already thinned, what with the quarantine.”
“We'll be fine,” Slate said in a way that offered no room for discussion.
Aaro nodded but slid a wary look my way. I frowned at it; it seemed odd.
“We're in!” Binx declared as he strode up. “And he's willing to see us right now.”
“Good work, Brother,” Slate said then waved toward the door. “Lead on.”
Binx grinned; it was almost goofy, it was so proud. I suppose he didn't hear genuine praise from Slate very often. He led us out with his shoulders thrown back and chin lifted. I dearly hoped the praise was warranted.
Chapter Nine
Binx drove. I climbed in the back of his Jeep with Slate while Aaro took the front. The rest of the men Slate had been conferencing with were sent to check on the Gargoyle units stationed around the Zone. They were the lucky ones.
“Binx, I may be immortal, but I'd rather not experience a crash today,” I said dryly.
“Huh?” Binx glanced back at me and the whole Jeep swerved with him.
Horns honked and people screamed. Binx straightened the Jeep as the rest of us clung to whatever we could reach.
“Watch the damn road!” Aaro shouted.
“Yeah, yeah; I got it,” Binx grumbled and pulled into a parking spot. “We're here anyway.”
I climbed out, thankfully in one piece, and considered kissing the sidewalk. Before us stood a three-story building painted sunshine yellow. Detailed designs had been carved into the stone to create borders around windows, between the stories, and in an arch over the front door. The front yard had an overzealous garden reined in by an iron fence, its foliage creeping through the black bars like prisoners reaching out of their cells. I frowned at that imagery. I was obviously too distracted to enjoy the bright blooms or the peppery fragrance that wafted from them.
Binx strode up the central walk, leaving the iron gate open for the rest of us, and headed to the front door. He rang a brass bell instead of knocking, which resulted in immediate movement within the house. Movement spotted through open windows that not only had their drapes parted but also had the panes lifted to bring in the fresh air. I saw a Nagini—a female Naga—walk calmly but quickly to the door. She opened it and bowed to Binx, and he—surprise, surprise—bowed back.
“Welcome, Lord Binx,” she said with a shy glance at his face. She bowed to Slate and Aaro next. “And to you, Zone Lord and Lord Aaro. I am Achira.”
Achira was lovely. Her ebony hair trailed behind her in glossy splendor, stark against a pale blue gown with enough gold embroidery to make walking difficult. The color also went well with her toffee skin and dark eyes. Eyes that kept wandering to Binx. Huh. I guess there really is someone for everyone.
“Thank you,” Slate said. “This is my girlfriend, Elaria.”
“The Spellsinger,” Achira added the title and bowed to me too. “Please, come in. Daha is prepared to receive you.”
Achira stood back and waved us inside. After quietly closing the door, she led us through a vibrant space of lush fabrics, polished brass, and woven reed carpeting. We went down a hallway and into a sitting room; a sitting room with no one sitting in it. I note that since I'd kind of been expecting the seer.
“He will be with you momentarily,” Achira said as she left.
We settled on the low couches then Binx reached for the refreshments laid on an equally-low coffee table. A silver vase of marigolds perched amid plates of sweets and a pot of tea. Binx went for the sweets and stayed away from the tea. I
grinned as I did the opposite.
Then a Naga walked in.
This one was in his Weresnake form; an interesting combination of snake and man. A cobra hood draped his head, emerging from his forehead smoothly. Skin became scales at the border of his face, in a line from temples up to crown but from his temples down, the snakeskin hung like the fabric of an ordinary hood, down to his collarbones where it reattached. A wide neckline, bordered with gold embroidery, laid along the fold. Within the hollows of the hood, waves of dark hair hung to the man's shoulders and the graceful column of his throat stood bare. He looked human if you disregarded his hood and golden snake eyes.
“Welcome to my home.” The Naga inclined his head. “I am Daha.”
“Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” Slate said. “We have an urgent need for clarity.”
Daha smiled serenely. “Yes, I imagine you do, Zone Lord. There is unrest in our home.”
“You could say that,” Slate agreed.
Daha took a deep breath, his stare traveling over all of us. It widened slightly on me. “But I will not read you, Zone Lord.”
“Excuse me?” Slate growled.
Daha held up one elegant hand. “I will see Elaria Tanager. Alone.”
I blinked in surprise then looked at Slate. He scowled but nodded; seers could be weird, it's kinda their thing, and it's best to just go with it. I stepped forward.
“Achira will attend the rest of you while I meet with the Spellsinger,” Daha declared. “Your Majesty.” He held an arm out to me.
I glanced at Slate again, shrugged, and laid my hand on Daha's forearm.
Chapter Ten
“Please.” Daha waved his hand toward a wide, low chair; heavily carved to the point that it resembled a throne and padded with a thick cushion.
He'd taken me upstairs to the second floor and into an airy room with a plant-laden balcony that let in a cool breeze and lots of light; both of which were manufactured but nonetheless felt natural. There, the carpets were plush, detailed, layered, and scattered with pillows. Potted plants crept in from the balcony to take up the few spaces of bare floor. Daha chose another throne-like chair, set at a right angle to mine, for himself.
Then he stared at my chest.
I frowned and cleared my throat.
Daha shook his head slightly. “I'm so sorry, but I'm drawn to your pendant. May I ask, what is it?”
My hands went to the collection of pendants that hung from a gold chain around my neck. Two were Shining One amulets; my travel stone was a piece of clear, polished crystal whose depths swirled constantly with light and my contact charm was a piece of barite shaped like a cone but with a natural formation on the wide end that looked like the petals of a rose. Lastly, there was a simple, unpolished chunk of onyx whose purpose I'd yet to discover.
“Which one?” I asked Daha.
I had assumed his attention had been caught by the swirling light of the traveling charm. It could be distracting which was why I usually kept it tucked down my bodice. The pendants must have fallen free when I'd sat down, catching the seer's attention. But Daha focused on the flat-black of the onyx amulet, pointing at it to be absolutely clear.
“Oh. This is the result of...” I frowned as I searched for a way to explain it.
“Great magic,” Daha finished for me.
“Yes, great magic,” I confirmed. “Two friends and two lovers helped me create this. We didn't set out to; I was training and ended up uniting our magic. When our magic combined, it formed this. It was originally one large chunk but Lucifer, one of the friends who helped create it, separated the onyx into smaller pieces so each of us could have one.”
“What have you used it for?”
“So far, I haven't used mine for anything but Torin's stone saved his life. My husband was attacked and his pendant absorbed the magic. It was, unfortunately, destroyed in the process.”
“Fascinating,” Daha whispered.
“Would you like to hold it?” I asked when he continued to stare at the amulet.
“I would be honored.”
I slipped the chain over my head and offered the entire thing to him. Daha took it reverently, laying all three pendants in his palm. He stroked the Shining One charms absently then slid them down to hang from the chain as he closed his fingers over the onyx. Daha's breath shivered out of him and a smile full of wonder stretched his lips.
“There is God magic in this stone,” Daha whispered. “And also music and fire and... love.” He smiled at me. “You've created something that has never existed before, Elaria; a collection of magic that shouldn't be able to unite. You have made the dissonant into something harmonious.”
“That was probably the Spellsong,” I said lightly.
“No, it was everything you are,” he protested. “You are the pitch that focused their voices. The note that made the magic into music. You did that.”
After an awkward pause, I asked, “Can you see what it can do?”
Daha pondered the amulet. “It's not a charm like these other two; it doesn't have a specific purpose. This is raw magic; it's potential is limitless. It just needs you to direct it.” He offered it back to me.
“Thank you.” I took the necklace and put it back on my neck. “I've just been waiting for it to do something but now I know that it's been waiting for me too.”
“Exactly.” Daha smiled softly. “Are you ready?”
I nodded and he held out his hand expectantly. I knew the routine, I'd seen a Naga prophesy before. I laid my hand in Daha's palm.
Daha's eyes closed. His hood shivered like a rattlesnake's tail and he took a sudden, deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were glowing to the point where he appeared blind.
“You fight against yourself,” Daha intoned. “There will come a time when you must surrender; it is inevitable when you are both opponent and defender. And the victor is inevitable when one side has all the weapons.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked in a hushed tone. “This has nothing to do with why I'm here. Fight against myself? What does that even mean?”
“Just listen and remember, Elaria,” he chided me but it was with a resonant voice that held no censure. “If you want to even the odds, go to the Witches; they will help you fight.”
“You're talking about the Rooster Spell, aren't you?” I whispered. “About how I'm trying to stop its need for more lovers?”
Daha nodded. “It has become more important to you than any other magic, even that which you have been reunited with. It must be dealt with, even in the midst of this.”
“What is this?” I asked urgently. “What's happening in the Zone?”
“So many things. More than you think. More than you can possibly expect.” His expression went sad. “The Zone bleeds and so will you if you're not wary.”
“Can you be more specific?” I grumbled.
One uniting truth about seers; they speak in riddles. I don't think they do it on purpose; their prophecies seem more like a recitation of what they're told or possibly their best description of what they're shown. This seer, at least, was doing better than most. I'd actually gotten a straight answer from him, and he seemed inclined to offer more. Fingers crossed.
“You have the answer already,” Daha declared to my immense disappointment. But then he went on, “You have seen the infection yourself; your magic has followed it into the depths of the Zone. Vengeance now rises.”
“Is it Gargo? Is it his spirit?”
“It is and it is not.”
“Damn it!” I hissed. It was practically the same thing I had said after singing, but I still didn't know what it meant. Perhaps the visions seers received were similar to the ones I got from my magic. In which case, I could hardly get mad at Daha for his lack of specificity. Still, I couldn't help a little whine, “That isn't helpful, Daha. Can you see who or what it is?”
“It is blood.”
I froze. Blood. How's that for a straight answer? And Daha was right
; I had been given the answer already, I just couldn't understand it until now. Gargo but not. Not his spirit, but his blood; physical essence opposed to metaphysical. When we went to destroy Gargo's body, it had fought back, even without his soul in residence. His body had been formed from magic and had a certain sentience; basically, a knee-jerk reaction of divine proportions. We had to resort to some drastic measures to subdue it before we could burn it to ash. Measures that inflicted numerous wounds on Gargo's enormous body, releasing a virtual tidal wave of his blood.
