Just past midnight and with Styak's smokeless light banishing Parry's night blindness, they made their way to the workshop, careful not to wake anyone.

Parry's mind was racing, trying to anticipate the demon's intentions. Step Rituals open the soul, leaving it available to change. It's the most vulnerable moment in any magician's life--there's a reason spirits of all kinds use pick those moments to offer temptations. The circle is some protection, but it's not perfect. This time, the damnable thing would be right inside it with him, holding chalk: what was it planning?

"This is the dumbest thing I've done in fifty lifetimes."

"We have a saying: stupidity is opportunity."

Scratch and Sniff loped along beside them, the hi-lo dog inquisitive, looking for a treat, not reacting to the kitten.

Maybe he can't smell the demon? Or does he think it's part of me, since it's connected to my soul?

Parry banished idle speculation and pushed aside shop benches to expose the floor, peeling back the plies to uncover the circle.

"You can activate the Ritual of the Second Step yourself, no doubt."

He nodded, taking out his glove, slate and chalk. He began to chant.

The cat's tail fluffed, the air grew heavy.

"What is this, what are you doing, this is the fifth step?!"

"You said it yourself," Parry managed between verses. "I think big."

There was terrible danger in jumping rituals. Apprentices with less sense than patience have died skipping the count. The pressure on the spirit leaps orders of magnitude at each step. Climbing too high too fast will grind away any shallow mind unsupported by experience.

But Parry had experience to spare.

The plan of his soul appeared on the slate, just as he'd sketched it, complete with Styak's name and its bonds and connections.

"Why were you fooling about on the Second Step if you could go to the Fifth?" asked the incredulous kitten.

"Were you stronger I would run the Seventh and been done with it. You think I don't know all these Rituals? I've done them dozens of times, not that I'd let that slip to Father. Fifth is as far as I dare with your strength."

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Styak felt the drain on his power immediately. "If this fails, it kills me!"

"Really?" Parry managed blandly. "I hadn't considered. I suppose that makes sabotage unlikely."

Around them, the circle glowed and held. The moment it was stable, Parry began drawing a fresh line on the slate...then froze, unable to add another.

The demon clambered down to balance on the boy's forearm. "You get a line, I get a line. We began together, we end together."

Parry would have cursed aloud, except it might have destabilized the Ritual. Two minds in one circle clearly presented some strange restrictions. He couldn't edit his soul without some kind of contribution from the other. The power flowing from the demon dammed up until the Styak drew in a line.

"What are you sketching?"

"What are you sketching?!"

"Not your business."

"It is absolutely, positively my business."

Parry had chalked a line connecting the sigil for his eyes to Styak's name, then waited, glaring down at the cat.

"The eyes are acceptable. You may see what I see, I already see through yours." That paw--how did it hold the chalk?--linked their pain.

"I can deal with that. I hadn't planned to torture you anyway. I'm not sadistic."

"Of course not, Overlord Parry."

"Shut up."

Parry's turn, and he drew a single-line box around the demon's name...

...which Styak promptly erased.

...which Parry re-drew.

"I won't let you imprison me." A paw rubbed the box away.

"And I can't have you burrowing through my memories like a mole." His chalk hesitated over the slate. "We'll be at this until we're both drained. We need a solution."

"The solution is you trust me not to devour your memories."

Parry laughed, but only for a moment, the circle wouldn't hold up under more interference. "Not good enough."

Holding the chalk tightly, the boy drew a complex spiral over the demon's name.

Fear positively leaked from the demon: clearly Styak recognized it. "The Master's Bell. How do you know...? Never mind. What stops you from ringing it?"

"I guess you'll have to trust me."

Styak hissed.

"Your move."

Line by line they added and subtracted, slipping in ducts and putting up walls, diverting flows and connecting reservoirs.

Finally, the demon drew a strange drop-like shadow under the entire sketch. It was a single line, but fiendishly complex.

Parry watched, neutral at first, then baffled, then his jaw set.

"Inheritor's Will. That's what you wanted."

Styak's eyes were losing focus and it was breathing hard despite having no lungs, showing how far the Ritual had drained it. "You fail, we fail. You succeed, I get it all. What do you care, you'll have destroyed your Creator."

Parry held up the slate, considering carefully. After all that editing it was one tightly drawn compact design, the names almost obscured by the strokes.

"This will do. I'm ending the Ritual."

The demon was draped over his forearm, snoring.