Shiri was still shaking when he returned them to Elusria City. It had only been a few brief minutes since the creature emerged from the sea to peer upon them. Ranvir, unsure how to comfort her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, alternately rubbing her upper back.
Thankfully, she wasn’t crying, which probably meant she was just shaken up and not actually distraught. Or maybe she was so distraught she’d entirely detached from her personhood. In which case, he couldn’t help.
“My feet are sore,” she said between sniffs. “And I’m cold.”
Cold, he thought, mentally examining his pocket-spaces. He had his uniform with him. Jacket included. She blinked as the aperture opened and he retrieved his dark coat.
“It might feel a little strange,” he warned her. “Having to make room for the wings and all.”
She grunted and glanced at his current coat before putting it on. “Thank you.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about your feet,” Ranvir said apologetically. “I only have Frija’s shoes and though you are small, you’re not that small.”
“Thanks anyway,” she said, leaning into him again.
“No problem.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, then his smile drooped. “Not really a fantastic date, though.”
Shiri was quiet for a moment, then took in a deep breath. “What did it want?”
“To examine me, I think. We were far enough from the capital and the ‘god-king,’ that it didn’t know who or what I was.”
“So there wasn’t actually any trouble?”
Ranvir shrugged. “So long as we stayed out of the water, I think.”
She took in a deep breath and nodded. “Far away, then.”
They walked in silence, their shoes loud against the cobbled streets. A fog had fallen over the city, obscuring the middle-distance into the washed out and ghostly. Globes of light appeared distant, resolving only into lanterns and people within a less than a hundred meters. Carriages and wagons trundle past, their sound dulled by the liquid haze that surrounded the city. They turned regular travelers into something otherworld and spectral. Carts looming out of the air too soon, their lanterns too high until their poles were revealed.
Tentatively, Ranvir opened his newest space a sliver. A shimmering wave of heat emerged behind them. Shiri gasped and looked behind her, seeing the small gash of purple light outlining the opening. The air shimmered from the heat surrounding the aperture; the fog diminishing in their immediate surroundings.
“That’s much better,” she said after a moment, leaning into him. “What did you put in there? A stove?”
Ranvir debated getting into the specifics of the mana objects within the items and how he’d harvested them. Glancing down, he saw the relaxed smile on her face. Perhaps this time, I keep it simple.
“Close enough.”
“It’s cozy. Like our own slice of summer.”
Ranvir smiled and rested a hand where she’d slung her arm through his.
“So…” she said after a moment of just soaking in the heat. “What now?”
Ranvir let out an exasperated sigh. “I had hired some musicians to play for us while we danced.”
For a moment, Shiri’s eyes widened before narrowing. “Had?”
“Yesterday, the singer got sick and has been losing his voice.”
“That’s not so bad.”
He gave her a weary look. “The fiddler got drunk yesterday, fell and broke his hand.”
“Goddess above! You are the most unlucky date planner ever, or singularly incompetent within the field.”
“I’d almost rather be bad than blame it on luck,” he said wistfully. “At least, then I know the Goddess isn’t aiming to knock me down a peg.”
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“I’d rather you get knocked down five than have your natural talent be this low.”
They began walking again, chatting and knocking against each other. The slice of summer hanging behind and keeping them cozy despite the wintry chill setting in.
Suddenly, Shiri spoke up, interrupting their previous conversation about the appropriate size of pets. In which her opinion was invalid. She liked horses. Horses. Notoriously one of the biggest animals, on Vednar at least. Even bigger than Menace and he was already too big a pet.
Thankfully, he’d avoided the subject of actually owned animals. Since Shiri hadn’t owned an animal since her father sold off their horses some years after she moved out. Meanwhile Ranvir had a three-hundred pound cat, a nearly nine-foot tall vulture, a locust swarm big enough to cover a square kilometer, a spirit of war — technically entirely without mass — that had rebelled from its hive mind and lived within his spirit, and currently had trapped its offspring within himself.
She was on the wrong side of pet sizes. A cat — house cat — was the only appropriate size.
“If you hired musicians, you weren’t planned on dancing in a bar, right? In that case, where were you going to take me?”
“I’ll show you.” He took them down a side street and soon had them on a straight path to the biggest and prettiest park.
“You’re so lucky they canceled.” Shiri clung to him, arms tight around his. Her blue eyes opened wide as she peered around the dark and fog-covered park. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
The unknown was clearly driving her fear, though she didn’t falter in her step. Ranvir couldn’t help but applaud her bravery. “Yeah, I didn’t foresee a fog settling in.”
“It has to be luck,” she muttered. “You cannot plan for this.”
“I could disperse the fog?”
She glared up at him and tugged his arm closer, his over-sized coat hung loose around over her shoulders. “Why? Do you think it’s annoying that I’m clinging to you?”
“No, I like it.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Ranvir flushed.
“Oh.” Shiri flushed as well, then set her face. “Good,” she pulled extra hard on his arm. “Go on, show me.”
He took her to a small gazebo hidden away behind mostly bare hedges, their branches still thick enough to give cover.
“Here. They’d start with ‘Rose in the Morning Wind’ and then move on to other songs in that style.”
“Could you sing for me?”
“No.”
“Wait, can you dance?”
“I can sway.”
“Show me.”
Ranvir gave her an exasperated look. He took her in his arms, hands around her waist. She lifted hers to his neck. A figure approached the hedges, turning the corner in a moment.
Blinking, Ranvir spun to put Shiri behind him, eyes narrowing on the opening. He wasn’t particularly tall, dark-skinned and lean. Veins in his temples could be seen clearly, even through fog and darkness. His hands, poking out from under a baggy coat, were similarly striated.
“You noticed me coming?” he asked, stopping abruptly at seeing Ranvir’s attention. He had an Ankirian accent. “Impressive.”
If not for Ranvir’s Perception combining with spatial awareness, he wouldn’t have noticed the man until he stood before the gazebo. His spiritual presence wasn’t muted, it was gone. Hidden.
Other presences approached then. Two dozen. Half were space-generators, the other half warp-tethered.
“If you move, they will attack her,” the man said, his native presence appearing like a minor divot to Ranvir’s own senses. “I might be forced to attack as well.”
“Ranvir? What’s going on?”
Behind them, one of the space-generators shouted in Kisi, his voice tense and angry.
“Close your space,” the man said, his voice even. “And the girl won’t have to be hurt.”
Ranvir contemplates his options. He was faster than the tethered surrounding them. Even a dozen of them. He could’ve gotten away with ease. Bringing Shiri would only be slightly more difficult.
But the man. The imprint he left was small, a divot fit for a middling first-stage, yet he was easily in his late-thirties. And the density within that tiny imprint. Ranvir was still gathering details. Twin Master, likely higher.
“You’re Dhaakir al-Khatib.”
“A little brain is rattling around up there, it would seem.” He nodded to his men. Space lashed out and Ranvir didn’t stop them. “Can’t have you interfering until I’m ready to take you on in good time.”
----------------------------------------
Unable to sense the specifics of their workings, Dhaakir could only tell that the dozen space-generators were working hard to seal the ‘man’ away. Whatever he was, it wasn’t a tethered.
Sure, he had elements of a space-manipulator, but the wings and other energy types? Dhaakir shook his head.
“Ready, sir.”
“Proceed.”
Warp flashed up and into their working. And that’s how you deal with—
Purple light flashed, space rippling and changing. Control, not creation. Dhaakir dashed back, avoiding the working. Whatever it was, he wanted no part. Most of the warp-tethered managed the same. Only one space-generator.
“What happened?” he hissed at the man.
“When we attacked, he… I don’t know how. He punched through our layers and snapped us up, sir.”
“So they’re not dead?”
“No, sir.”
“Is he sealed?”
“For now, sir.”
“For now? Can he or can he not break free?”
The soldier gave an unsure shrug. “He shouldn’t have been able to punch through, not while protecting the girl and himself from warp attacks. Maybe. For a time, at least.”
Dhaakir nodded. “We won’t take too long, then. Get me out of the city.”
The generator nodded, and space flashed around Dhaakir. Managing teleports made their army much faster and subtler than any, even the Sleeping Sons, could account for. Space dispelled into sparks of purple, revealing the ritual circle within which he’d been sent.
“Prepare to send me to the camp,” he ordered. “Join me when you can.”
Stepping into a much larger and more ornate circle, Dhaakir minimized his native presence as much as he could. Six space-generators stepped into their respective circles and began the working. Traveling from the Elusrian capital to the school required too much power for anyone of them to manage. Combining it through the ritual, they launched him through space.
The world turned to a purple blur, hazy lights of other colors occasionally shooting through the gallery of lavender lights. Dhaakir settled in to wait. Over vast distances such as these, it could be twenty or more minutes to arrive.