Rei’s jaw drops, the perfect picture of boggling, as Sara’s words ring in the air. This is why I’m leaving your party for the Magelord’s. I’m boggling too; I feel like there’s at least a few steps being skipped here, somewhat important ones. “Maybe,” I say with my face defaulting to its I have no idea what’s going on smile, “you could elaborate?”

“I have found your party convivial and will be joining you,” she says, and her voice isn’t as calm anymore. “Please do not make a habit of requesting that I repeat myself. I detest it.”

“I didn’t ask you to repeat yourself, and I’ll bear that in mind in the future.” I’m still giving her the somewhat absent smile-by-default. “Um. I take it that your obligations to Rei are fulfilled, as of… now? Or when he activates his pylon?”

“I’ll release ye now, obviously.” Rei is still making faces, but they’re different ones, ones not as obvious as to their meaning. “Ye cost me an’ Stella five stones apiece to Knives, Sara; I’d my money on ye waiting until after yer contract fulfilled.”

“Staying for the tournament,” Stella says with a sigh. I see her fish something out of a pouch and toss it to knives, and that’s when it clicks for me, as I remember what a stone is in context.

“You were betting on how long Sara would stay in your party?” I try not to laugh, and mostly succeed, especially once I look at Sara’s face. I can see frown lines across her brows and a clenching in her fists, and I nod at her. “Is there a way we do this that doesn’t involve the pylon, or is that our only option?”

“Knew she’d jump t’another boat the moment one showed with nice enough trim; it’s her way. Ye’ve a lot of problems, friend. Let’s add this one, eh?” Rei grins in what seems to be good humor, but the gleam of his teeth and the cheer in his face seems a lot less charming when he’s being quite so rude, so I just give him a slow nod. “Need the papers, girl.”

Sara reaches into her robes and produces a thin sheaf of parchment, covered over with narrow, tightly woven runework in black on the brown of whatever Cador is apparently using for paper. She hands it to Rei, whose face smoothes out into concentration, and I resist the urge to pull up the Visor; distracted for a moment, I almost miss the fact that she has what looks like those same glyphs inked or possibly scarred in some way onto her wrists. She shakes out her arms, letting the layers fall over her palms and cover up to the second joints of her fingers, and I look towards Rei.

He wraps the papers around his wrists where Sara’s have the matching tattoos or scars and shakes his head slowly, grimacing. “I knew I should have gone for higher quality runesheets.”

“Your stalling does you no credit.”

Rei winces at the cold bite in Sara’s response. “Yeah, and ye took it without more’n wincing. Ah well. Tim, I hope yer not leavin’ until we surface, but if ye are, appreciate if ye speak now.”

“I’ll stay that long.” Tim’s eyes are locked on Rei’s wrists. “You have my word I won’t make you do the last passage with only the three of you, if things go as they have been.”

“Good enough.” Rei’s voice smoothes out, and he looks over at me. “Adam. It’s been a pleasure.”

“What do you—”

Rei’s grunt of pain is deep and resonant, and it cuts me off. There’s a dull glow around his wrists, and it intensifies, provoking a hiss as his eyes close. Sara hisses too, and my eyes flicker over to her; I miss what I suppose is the climactic moment as a result, a flash of orange-yellow light that follows a choked-off scream from Rei. Her eyes are unlined and her body fully relaxed and at ease for the first time since I’ve seen her, and Rei, well, Rei is a mess. He’s bent over, shuddering, Stella supporting him under his shoulder, and my eyes flicker back over to Sara and my eyebrow goes up in a nonverbal question. She ignores me, or doesn’t notice, so I look over at Tim.

“It’s a contract severance.” He’s walking towards Rei and Stella and Knives, but he pauses and visibly searches for the right words. “Under Shemaya’s skies, or in any Temple other than this one, you can free a thrall or sever a contract with a prayer and a tithe. Here, or in a dungeon, there are no Gods to act as our stewards or agents. Mortal substitutes are unpleasant.”

“How do you get freed, then, or released, or whatever?”

“I already am.” Tim cocks his head at me. “How could I not be? The Lord Mayor doesn’t want a slaver’s upgrade to his Class. He carries with him the already-committed prayers to Shemaya and Seidr; unless he dies and the memory of his death is consigned to the depths, all those in his service are free. The others simply don’t know it yet.”

“Wait, wait.” I’ve got a sinking feeling in my gut. “A slaver’s upgrade?”

“Magelord, with all due respect, I have been awake and adventuring,” he says, letting enough feeling show on the word that I’m surprised he doesn’t spit to the side or something equally dramatic, “for some sixteen hours. In that time, I have not eaten. Ask your companions, old or new.”

I flush a little, and hold from my tongue all of the witticisms and savage retorts that cycle through my mind. He’s turned already, anyway, and he collects the single bag marked with the wand sigil almost absently. His pylon, all of their pylons, are dark; at some point while I was talking with Amber, they must have collected their winnings, their prizes, whatever those might be.

“I hope they got what they were looking for,” I say idly, making conversation. They, Rei’s party, were standing in a circle in a position that looked no different from any other, but - ah. Gone in a heartbeat, gone without any chance for the eye to see a transition; instantaneous, or at least faster than a millisecond or two, transportation. I feel a pang of something like angry curiosity, resenting that I won’t know what was in their bags, but I know full well that if we run into each other again in this Temple we might well be fighting each other instead of working together; neither of our parties is going to tell the other what new cards we have to play. “Rei needed, what, Kazir and … Shamaya?”

“Kazir and Khasaf.” Amber murmurs the words into my forehead.

“Huh. What does he get from… Khasaf?” I look over at Sara. “Do you know, and if so, can - might you share?”

“A sense of value, he said; imprecise language from an imprecise man.”

I wince. She says it like an absolute condemnation, and at the same time I can’t help but imagine him having done that on purpose, which was a condemnation in its own right. “He didn’t seem to be… particularly kind, for all that he was very nice.”

“You found him sexually attractive, which is impairing your judgment.”

“Yeah, he was really pretty.” I grin at her. “I’m not very good with subtleties, when it comes to people. I’m going to very much appreciate your bluntness and honesty.” I pry myself out of Amber’s arms, standing smoothly and taking the steps back to the pylon marked as mine in now-eager strides. I’m not sure where my excitement is coming from, but it’s there, and I’m determined to enjoy it for as long as it lasts. “Let’s do this, I guess! Oh. Huh.” I bring my hands up to cradle the crystal pane I’m staring into, smiling. “Well, that’s new. And as usual, I hate it.”

“Magelord?”

“That’s Zidanya’s line. You should get a different one.” She doesn’t say anything to that, which, fair, it’s not really worth responding to.

Create Reca - Spirit-Witch / Shallow-Rooted / Third-Tier / Curse Specialist / Skilled

Create Reca - Temple’s Choice / Tracks Level Until Up To Fourth Tier / Master

Bind Spirit - Rakhava / Imprint / Tracks Level Until Up To Fifth tier / Grandmaster

Bind Human - Sara Evetheri / Arcane Prodigy / Second-Tier / Paragon

“My lord?”

My face is an open book, so I really shouldn’t be so surprised that Amber can read it. Shouldn’t be surprised that it’s her who speaks up when I stand there, staring at the pylon, for a little longer than is reasonable. “I mentioned I hate this, right? Sara, actually, what’s your preferred form of address? We use mix, which using your alphabet I’d probably spell ehm-ecks, and I’m really glad that I picked up Omniglot. What a trip, just … knowing how to spell things.”

She doesn’t say anything for a bit, and when I turn to look at her, I can see the tension in her hands and face. I almost ask again, or ask whether I’ve given offense, but I remember at the last moment what she’d said earlier about choosing her words, and turn back to the pylon to give her some space and time. “Miss Evetheri is appropriate for strangers or for peers being formal,” she says eventually to my back. “It would be an appropriate mode for your subordinates to use.”

“Do you want me to use it? We’re still strangers, to some extent.”

“No, sir.” That was obviously the wrong thing to say, because her tone goes from explanatory to frigid. “We are not, and I do not.”

“Sara, then, I guess.” There’s no response, so I go on. “Bind is a funny word, isn’t it. Sara, you are literally just now free. Why do you want to be bound again?”

“Nobody trusts someone smarter than they are, unless they have an external reason to do so.” There’s a pause, and a slow breath in, and I stay quiet to see if she’ll say anything more. Eventually, she does. “I have no means of demonstrating my good faith other than my willingness to accept whatever terms you choose to enforce.”

I can’t help it; I laugh, hearing the mirrored bitterness and also the freedom in the sound. “Nobody, huh?” I grin at the pylon, and I feel my brain finally start to really kick in for the first time in a long while. “Alright. Sara, let’s see how this goes.” [Conjure Visor] takes seven seconds to turn the world into numbers and programs, and while I wait, my grin sharpens as my voice drops to a murmur. “Seidr, Seidr, Seidr. You might be a God, but if so, I’ve only got one prayer to offer you.

“I’ll build a better order.”