Skylar's mind, which had been drifting dreamily for the briefest of moments, was shocked back to reality with violent force. He shook his head as if to clear cobwebs, and scowled up at the sky. Right. Don't know what got into me.
Shifting his weight slightly, he looked down at Amara, sleeping peacefully; a moment ago, she had looked angelic, but all he could see now was danger that was entirely too close to his tingtongs. With extraordinary care and caution, he shifted her off of his lap and onto the ground, leaving a flap of his coat between her cheek and the ground to keep her warm and cushioned; drawing his hand to his chin in thought, he focused on her slumbering face and tried hard to think rationally. I can't afford to get caught up in all this mushy crap. I need to keep myself alive and accumulate power and resources; sure, that probably means keeping her and the others alive as long as they're useful allies, but I've already had too many close calls where I tried to play hero or martyr and nearly got killed for my trouble. From now on, eyes on the prize at all times.
This is inadvisable on a bunch of fronts, not least of which that there are things she knows that I don't want to know until they're relevant. Also haha wow, what the other guy said. Skylar fished around in his pocket and pulled out the Kalativa, staring at his own reflection in the back for a few moments. I still don't know if I can use Weir on myself through my reflection, but it's kinda dangerous to mess around with my own brain. Still, there has to be something I can do that might help me in the future. He looked down at Amara's sleeping form and felt his jaw clench. Well, I guess I do know one thing.
Staring into his own eyes in the dim, star-lit image before him, he carefully formed a thought in his mind; he turned it this way and that in his cognitive space, inspecting it for flaws and mistakes from all angles. Then, when he was finally satisfied, he called forth the power of Weir and released it into the gaze of his own likeness as though he were enchanting another. He cast the ensorcellment outwards and felt it disappear out of his own mind; he waited a few moments, but felt nothing. Maybe it doesn't work. Or maybe it did and I'm just as unaware of it as a normal target would be. Whatever. Glumly, he looked around, wondering how much longer Amara would sleep; but to his mild surprise, she was already stirring, frowning and mumbling a little as her hands clutched for purchase against the grass. "Ngh... why'd you let me sleep so long?"
"I'm not really in charge of you, if you haven't noticed," Skylar commented acerbically. Her head snapped up, eyes full of hurt, but Skylar held her gaze passively without flinching. "Or am I wrong?"
There was a long pause, full of possibility where he saw her vacillating between one choice and another; but eventually, her shoulders slumped and she nodded. "No. I guess I'm still not doing a very good job of being fair to you."
Bait taken -- now to feed out the line. Skylar let his expression soften, and cast his gaze down to his shoes for a moment before looking somewhere in the vicinity of her left shoulder. "Look, we're both trying. Let's just focus on what's next."
Amara took a deep breath, seeming to waver slightly in his vision, then steadied; he wondered if he'd imagined it. I am pretty short on sleep. "The last time you used the Kalativa, it returned you to the timeframe you were in then -- if you use it now, you'll be able to return to this time later, which will be important."
Wait, I was supposed to be on the lookout for this. Skylar let an expression of confusion steal over his face. "Return to this time later? How does that work?"
Amara glanced down at the pocket of his coat where the little dial was nestled. "It has... rules is not the right word. Functions, I guess." She waved a hand tiredly. "Whenever a bearer uses it for the first time, it sends them to a distant time and place -- a second use returns them to the time and place where they were when they originally activated it. In other words, every second use undoes the previous use."
That's not exactly how the note said it... Skylar nodded, his expression dubious for multiple reasons. "Can you just keep using it over and over? Or is there a pause or a cooldown or something?"
At this question, Amara's eyes grew wary, and her gaze flicked sideways and downwards. "It's complicated. To you, I guess it would seem pretty capricious..." She put her chin on her fist and looked him up and down assessingly. "You can try to control it, if you know how, but only partially. And there are other things to know too." Abruptly, her form wavered again, and this time it was definitely not Skylar's imagination; she threw her head back and clenched her teeth as her body flickered like a badly-tuned television picture, eventually steadying again with an eye-twisting pulse of strange geometries. When she returned to solidity, she was panting and clutching the fabric of her pants with both hands. "Vark... we're... out of time..."
Interesting word choice. "It's okay. A little information is better than nothing," Skylar said in his best soothing voice. He raised his hand. "Until we see each other again?"
At this, Amara's eyes sought out his own; and again, there was something complex and unspoken there, full of strange insights that meant nothing to him but were clearly deeply significant. Then, without warning, she was gone; a little wind swirled across the meadow, rippling through the space where she'd been standing, and he was alone.
Skylar stood there for a few moments, contemplating everything that had just happened, then pulled out the Kalativa. Alright then. Let's see where this goes next.
Unlike the previous transition -- perhaps because he wasn't attempting to influence the artifact this time -- this transit seemed effortless and instantaneous much like his first few trips had been; it took him a moment to find his bearings, but eventually he recognized it as the pass beyond Garlon's Fork. Uphill, he glimpsed a trio of figures he thought might be Reine, Aymon, and Levan, carrying a slender and black-coated unconscious body. Oh, fratz, I'm in my own immediate past. I'll have to be careful not to get spotted. Cautiously, he ducked behind a rock and observed the others; but they were so far away that he had no trouble staying out of sight until they had crested the next hill, after which point he was able to scurry after them unseen. It was tiring, but he'd at least had some rest recently, and he found he was able to keep up without too much difficulty.
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In such a manner, he followed their movements up the mountains and around the switchback to Gavispar proper; the jeweled light of the mountain city, seen on approach, was even more beautiful than the first time he'd seen it; he was annoyed to think that it was all going to be destroyed in a few days. Pain in my grak. Eventually, they arrived at a heavily-guarded gate and were admitted; Skylar hung back, thinking carefully about how to proceed, as they crossed through a pair of great stone doors and disappeared into the mountain's interior.
I actually don't want to get involved with my past self here at all, since I don't remember seeing my past self here until the battle of Elmat's Well in three days. Should I leave and come back? Or try to get into the city, then lie low until the attack? He pondered his options, but eventually realized that entering the city would be difficult while still dressed in all black; if I recall, the people of Gavispar weren't too keen on wearing black, especially monochromatically. Unless I can get other clothes -- or find a better way to hide my appearance -- I'd better steer clear.
Reluctantly, he turned away from the city; making his way a little down the mountain path, he spied a small cave that he thought might grant him at least a little protection from the elements. He scouted it cautiously, expecting a bear or other dangerous animal to have already claimed it, but it appeared to be completely empty; an Ubara-hide rug marked it as a place where someone else had rested at least once, but the place was deserted and the rug was so threadbare and moth-eaten that he knew it had to have been abandoned for at least a few months, if not longer. Good enough. I need sleep very badly. He scavenged a few rocks, piled them up across the entrance as best he could, and laid down with his folded arms beneath his head; in moments, he was asleep.
As before, his dreams were outlandish and mystifying; he chased copies of himself through shadowy rooms, gave speeches in languages he didn't speak to crowds composed entirely of disapproving Reines, and fled in terror from a relentless, implacable figure without a face that held a featureless white spear. As the dreams continued, his terror burgeoned, but then began to strangely recede; the unsettling imagery grew less and less mysterious as his awareness slowly became less muted, until he was watching a weird patchwork of events -- all representing anxiety about some aspect of his life or another -- and felt supremely bored. "This is so basic," he complained in his dream to no one in particular.
"Would you prefer it be acidic?" a voice purred in his ear mockingly; he jumped, then scowled at the empty air next to him.
"Timurus? Is this another dream visitation?" He crossed his arms and looked around pointedly. "I don't get enough sleep to be wasting it talking to nothingness."
Obediently, the air next to him twisted and contorted sinuously, disgorging a black-clad vision of insidious evil; a lithe and serpentine form, clad in leather, leered with great mad eyes out of a gaunt face with black lips and hollow, sunken cheeks. "Poor baby," the Devari crooned, coiling around him and caressing his face with sharp, clawed fingers. "Is this better?"
Skylar rolled his eyes. "Can we not? I assume you want something from me, so let's just cut to the chase."
"You're no fun." There was a strange blur -- movement and motion and smeared perception all in one -- and he found himself standing on a cold mountaintop next to Timurus's male form, clad as before in a dapper suit and spectacles. "You never just want to play along," the Devari complained in its feminine voice.
"You don't know how to play right," Skylar retorted, sitting down on the imaginary ground and glaring up at the moon. "If you want to pretend to be Corsica and get into my pants, you picked the wrong night; I'm too tired to drotz. Otherwise, let's hear the pitch."
There was a moment's pause; the wind within the dream grew cold, and Skylar shivered. When he looked for the Devari next to him, he received a shock; where the effeminate man had stood a moment before was a blasphemous, elephantine spider-like creature, limbs twisting and undulating mindlessly around a core like a great lidless eye. You forget your place, the Devari's soundless voice thundered through Skylar's brain; he fell over, screaming and writhing, but the agony would not cease. I may not demand servitude from you, my cultist, but I will receive respect.
Go vark yourself, Skylar tried to manage, but he couldn't force words through the howling of his torment; the pain and suffering redoubled, but he clung grimly to his recalcitrance like a drowning man trying to stay afloat. I have to distract it somehow; my brains will be pulverized to jelly at this rate. He choked on his own excruciation, wishing he could black out, but the dream stubbornly persisted and preserved him; after a few moments, the agony eased, and he found that he had limited capability of speech again. "Weird fratz... like... two of me running around... and you're... worried about... respect..." he gurgled, gasping for air while marveling that he still thought he needed to breathe in a dream. "Obedience... from force... is... weakness."
There was a pause; he felt something unseen and deadly poise for a killing strike, and he cringed while gritting his teeth and clenched his entire body in preparation of death. But, after a moment, the nebulous threat somehow withdrew, and he found himself seated across a small table from Timurus's female form. "You're really committed to the bit, aren't you," Timurus marveled in its male voice. "You'd actually rather risk certain death at my hands than show me a little courtesy."
"You don't want courtesy," Skylar scoffed. "You want to play games, drotz with my head, that kind of thing. You want to trap me in bad situations and then offer me korskak help so that you can talk about how magnanimous you were to pull me out of a problem you created." He rolled his eyes with the maximum amount of disdain he could muster, which was quite a bit. "I got your number, krepnak. You want me to resist you, to defy you, and to try to manipulate you, so you can feel smart when you catch me, and then feel capricious and powerful when you indulge me or punish me or do whatever the skek you decide to do." Standing up, he leaned across the table to put his face within a few inches of the Devari's avatar's. "Sorbnek tell me I'm wrong. Do it."
There was an instant's pause, as Skylar quivered with indignation and Timurus's eyes went wide; then the table flew out of the way as the slender female body leapt forward to grasp Skylar's face with both hands and wrench his mouth to hers. Skylar gasped for breath quickly before the kiss descended upon him, violent and aggressive; the demigod's forked and snakelike tongue plunged down his throat greedily, and it was all he could do to not fall over -- he couldn't even close his eyes, such was the intensity of the osculation. For an acuminous eternity, he endured; then, finally, the Devari released him, licking its lips in satisfaction. "Exquisite," the female body purred in a man's deep voice. "Still you do not disappoint."
"Yeah, well, whores get paid," Skylar panted, staggering backwards to flop back into his chair; they appeared to be in a charming bistro now, though all food, waiters, and other patrons were only shadows. "Give me a way into the city. I can use Weir to get past the guards, but I'll stand out too much dressed like this, and I'm not getting rid of my sweet enchanted coat. Surely there's something you can do, considering you probably want me in there anyway for whatever game you're playing."
"Mmm... I suppose," the Devari agreed, taking a rough slurp from a dainty cup that looked full to the brim with boiling shadows. "There are many things I could do, but each comes with its cost. I may grant you no further Arts, for one."
"You could grant me an Anticuary for another Art," Skylar countered immediately. Aqu already gave the game away on that one, or will, three days in your future. "Or you could just give me more information about what it is you actually want me to do, instead of prodding me repeatedly so I run blindly in random directions."
The female form made a show of considering, then shook her ebony-tressed head. "No, I think I like you running around blindly; it keeps you humble." Small, very white teeth flashed in a flickering smile that was gone almost before it registered; one dainty fingertip traced the rim of the cup in a grotesque parody of girlishness. "Perhaps if you told me why you wanted to enter the city... but no. Keep your own secrets; it is more fun when you think you have the advantage."
The dreamscape shifted again; this time, Skylar found himself before a great black gate, beyond which dark stars writhed; before him were two altars, side-by-side, each bearing a delectable-looking fruit of a different color. "You love games," the Devari teased -- now male-bodied and female-voiced again -- "so let us play another one. To your left, the blue fruit represents information only: I will provide you a path to the city, undetected by any foes and armed with knowledge to protect yourself in such a situation. The path will be difficult and fraught with peril, but of limited consequence should you succeed." Timurus gestured to the other altar. "To your right, the red fruit represents power -- I will grant you an Anticuary to change your appearance physically, so that you may move among others undetected. This will benefit you greatly and increase your capabilities tremendously, but also cause you a great deal of suffering in your future." Skylar started to question how the Devari would know this, thought of at least three non-exclusive explanations, and changed his mind. "So... which will you choose?"
WHAT'S THE BEST CHOICE?
