26.9

In a cozy, dimly lit private room at the back of a trendy restaurant in the Harbor District, Draven and Zyrdicia sat at a small table draped in black silk. The only door in it opened directly to the kitchen. No one out in the restaurant's front room had any idea they were there.

One by one, small plates containing tiny, beautiful sculptures of food appeared. Each contained only a bite or two, but each was complex and delicious. Many years ago, a different chef had invented this kind of presentation - which had long become known throughout the world as a hallmark of Lyrian cuisine - entirely for her. The city's restauranteurs had learned that no matter how good the food was, Zyrdicia tended to take a few bites of something, then lose interest. Thus a brilliant chef pleased her by presenting her with only a few bites of each dish - and making it beautiful enough that destroying it amused her. The technique had caught on long ago, and now every good restaurant in Lyr still prepared food that way.

It was a nice change from the food in Karteia. In Castle Blackpool, the cooks often heaped plates with piles of gamey meat and starchy karpaccas. Karteian food was heavy, and there was nothing delicate about it.

As she swallowed a few morsels, she realized that Draven was right about the grounding effect of eating. The sensation of not quite being rooted inside her body gradually left her.

She found Draven to be a soothing mortal companion. She was still too shaken by her experience with Andireon to carry a conversation, but Draven was adept at filling the conversational space without being annoying. He told her a few stories about his days as an apprentice at Lyr's Magic Guild, and how he had ended up in Nevehna after his banishment from Lyr. Listening to him pulled her slowly back into her mortal self.

He entertained her with banter about the consternation he had caused by merging two Nevehnan guilds to create a sorcerer-supported army for hire. He talked freely about his success in marketing his new guild's services, his plans to expand it, and the money he had made while the Lyrian magic guild had been paralyzed with its intra-guild fighting. He shared details about his scheming to keep the Lyrian guild fighting as long as possible.

Zyrdicia listened curiously, and she found that she liked this stranger. He was fearless and funny. As she began to feel better, he drew her into a long conversation about travels to magical worlds, spell-casting theory, and the perils and advantages to forcing minor demons to do one's bidding. Zyrdicia was surprised not only with his knowledge, but also his creativity.

After a long conversation, he finally said, "You'll forgive me if I mention the business that brought me to you tonight?"

She frowned then, disliking the shift in topic. She had just begun to enjoy his company. "I detest the old prophecies. And they're all wrong. Every single one of them."

She suddenly remembered the last of the prophecies she had read - the fairy-tale like story she had left in Karteia for Dirk. That one had been the most wrong of all. She felt terribly foolish for having thought, even for an instant, that there might be some grain of truth to it. She also felt enormous gratitude to Andireon for having freed her from that magic-induced idiocy.

Undaunted, Draven continued, "One of the prophecies mentions that you have siblings. Have you ever pondered whether it could be true?"

Zyrdicia's eyes narrowed. After her recent conversation with Andireon, this subject made her uncomfortable. "Why would I?" she asked icily.

"A brother, for example."

Zyrdicia's frown turned slowly into a sneer. She snapped, "My mother had but one child-me."

"What if there were another like you, from a different mother?"

"The Sephiroth believe the entire Twilight hinges on me alone."

"I'm sure you're right. You have access to resources for information I cannot even imagine," he said deferentially. She saw a trace of irony in his eyes. Her uneasiness grew.

"What makes you think you have information about some non-existent sibling?" she demanded irritably.

Draven peered at her curiously, weighing his next words. He said, "Not long ago I came across a man who looks like your twin."

"Coincidence," she scoffed. "Or perhaps a Sephiroth trying to trick you. I know of at least one of them who pretends to be mortal from time to time."

"This was no Sephiroth. He's stark raving mad, and a rather pathetic creature. But the resemblance is uncanny."

Zyrdicia stared at him with a mix of vexation and wonder. "And where did you meet him?"

"I'll take you to him if we can strike a deal."

"For what?"

"I lost something very precious a few decades ago. I believe you are the only person in the world who can help me retrieve it."

She said flatly, "You want me to retrieve your soul."

She saw a hint of surprise when she revealed her knowledge of this aspect of him. He had not mentioned it tonight. In fact, she was sure he had never spoken of it to anyone.

It was now his turn to look uncomfortable now. She wondered whether he was ashamed. His mind was stubbornly closed to her and radiated no hint of his thoughts.

She had no immediate urge to tell him what she already knew from Andireon about the transaction. After a long silence, she asked quietly, "To whom did you sell it?"

"A demon named Kitzar."

"I know him. He's a general who commands Zyr's legions in Hell." She frowned and added, "Or he once did. Their allegiances seem unpredictable lately." She regarded him thoughtfully. "Kitzar was a strong choice."

Draven shifted uncomfortably in his seat then. "I suspect Kitzar was only acting as a broker in the deal. Someone else was behind it - I got far more out of it than I would have, had he been acting alone."

Zyrdicia inhaled slowly. This man was more enmeshed in Sephiroth scheming than Dirk ever was. And unlike Dirk, Draven might even be an active player in it, with an agenda of his own.

She sighed wearily. "I don't believe you will be able to show me that I have a sibling. But if you do, I will find out whether your soul can be retrieved. If Kitzar was acting for a Sephiroth, I probably can't get it for you. That's all I can offer you."

"Fair enough," he nodded. "Learning the identity of the entity behind the deal would still be something worth knowing."

She said, "I expect you and I will leave each other disappointed."

26.9.1

Outside, a soft drizzle fell. Draven waved his hand to create a magical barrier above their heads -an invisible umbrella large enough to cover both of them. She pulled the collar of her long leather coat up and thrust her hands into the large, deep pockets at her hips.

They chose to walk in the rain together back toward the nightclub, rather then use magic to transport themselves.

As they walked, Draven asked, "Will you answer a personal question for me?"

"I already have by speaking to you about the prophecies. What else do you want to know?"

"I've never understood why you became entangled with a non-magical mortal. I've always found they make intolerably boring romantic partners--it's as if there's a whole color spectrum of the world that we live in that they cannot see. And after your relationship with Azriok, I imagine that is even more true for you."

She frowned. The observation was a little too apt tonight. She glared at him a moment. "You're right. I'll never become involved with another mortal. I have an unrepentant fetish for black wings and sharp fangs. Warm skin does nothing for me. It makes for a frightfully small dating pool though."

Draven's eyes widened for an instant as he tried to discern whether she was joking. He decided that she was, and laughed.

She continued, "Besides, everything about what happened with Dirk was beyond my control."

"Were you be-spelled?"

"A Sephiroth stole Cupid's bow and shot me with one of its arrows. I've removed the arrow, and its magic is broken."

"Have you killed him?" he wondered nonchalantly.

"Cupid was slain by that Sephiroth. And that Sephiroth and I are--" She paused. What were they exactly? "He won't do it again."

"And Dirk?"

"I couldn't care less if Dirk lives or dies."

Draven glanced at her sidelong then. She could feel him studying her, adding this new information into his mental calculations. What was he up to? She was positive now that he had been watching her-through the media reports about her, maybe through paid informants and magic. And he might have been doing so for years.

She demanded, "Why is it so incomprehensible that I would crave the normality of a man who isn't tainted by involvement in that world?"

"Boredom."

"It wasn't boring," she said defensively. "Annoying, volatile, and a monumental waste of time. But not boring."

He shrugged, shaking his head. "Non-magical people are insufferably dull to me as romantic partners. Sex magic is the reason half the apprentices join any magic guild - in the guild, there is no shortage of magically-endowed partners. No one past the stage of second-year guild inductee ever sleeps with a non-practitioner again."

Draven then cheerfully launched into a lengthy explanation of a branch of magic she had never encountered. He had her laughing halfway through with stories of botched workings of some of the guild's apprentices, resulting in the transformations of one or more of the enthusiastic young sorcerors into donkeys, cows and sheep.

About a block from the nightclub, they paused in a dark alley. She stared silently at the pavement in front of her but not yet taking a step forward. She could feel his eyes lingering on her face in the dark. They stood near enough one another that she could feel just a hint of his body's warmth.

Her hands still in her pockets, she leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, "Why did you come to Lyr really?"

The mirth left his expression suddenly, but he said nothing.

She prodded, "You had no reason to expect to find me here - until my divorce became publicized, you would have expected me to be in Karteia."

"Perhaps I wanted to see whether the city was defenseless enough to be invaded. What better way to get your attention?"

She studied his face. It occurred to her that this was no jest. "That would have really pissed me off," she said evenly.

His lips curled playfully. "Or perhaps my plan was to challenge a few sorcerers to battle and take over the Lyrian Magic Guild - until your conclave tonight unraveled my plan."

"Sorry to ruin your plans," she whispered, smiling.

"I'm adjusting to make new plans."

She moved her lips nearer his and lingered a few inches away, teasing him. She heard his heart beat faster in anticipation, though he did not move toward her. Were it not for the racing of his heart, she might have believed him indifferent to her proximity. She turned away from him then, laughing.

He rolled his eyes affably and said, "You toy with me."

"You wish I would," she teased. Changing the subject, she demanded, "Were you really going to try to take control of the Magic Guild, despite your banishment?"

"Power speaks louder than anything else in Lyr's guild, and they are all desperate to return to making money from their craft. My sources there tell me that I could have had enough support to take control of the guild within forty-eight hours. And I've never lost a magic duel."

"No one has ever been guildmaster without my approval."

"I was certain I could persuade you to grant me that. I can be very persuasive." He paused, weighing his words, then added, "I have the strangest feeling that fate brought me to Lyr so that we would meet."

"You schemed to get Magnus to allow you to meet me. I don't believe you ever saw any 'sibling' of mine."

"I'll take you to see him. Now, if you'd like." His voice had a playful edge, making the suggestion sound a little like a dare.

The sharp, metallic twang of a bow string startled Zyrdicia. The sound of the bow was followed by that of wings beating nearby. She glanced down quickly at her own chest and was relieved that she had not been the arrow's target. She fumed silently - recognizing Andireon's taunt. She wondered whether he was he jealous that she had nearly kissed this mortal.

26.9.2

Draven snapped his fingers with a flourish and opened a blue-tinged magical portal, a few feet away from where he stood with Zyrdicia. He looked slightly ill at ease.

"Problem?" she asked suspiciously.

"I--" he stopped and looked down at the ground for a moment before continuing. Finally, he said quietly, "I'm a little nervous about you being critical of my gate spell." "Is it going to open into a mound of rock?"

"I can't take you where we are going directly. The Astral Plane is troublesome for portals."

"I get it," she smiled. Every human sorcerer she had ever known could not open a magical portal beyond the Astral Plane. They all had to move in two steps, first somewhere on the Astral Plane, then to the point beyond. And many a wizard had gotten stuck there, unable to open a portal home. Azriok had showed her the trick to avoiding that problem - it involved changing one's matter at the appropriate time moving through the Astral Plane. It was easy once you knew what to do. But mortal sorcerers still hadn't figured it out. "If I decide I like you, I'll show you the way to solve the problem with your portals. But now that you say we're going to the Astral Plane, you have my attention."

He looked relieved and admitted, "It would have sucked to have my magical idol make fun of my porting ability."

"There's so many better things to make fun of you about. You're a seventy-year old stalker who's been obsessed with me since you were a child. You probably have pictures of me under your pillow."

Draven shrugged affably and stepped through his magical gate. After she followed, he closed it behind her and said in a mischievous tone, "I don't need pictures entertainment. I could glamor any house slave to look like you - or command a succubus to take your form. If that were my thing."

"Ew," she sneered, unsure whether he was taunting her or telling the truth. He grinned and winked, offering no explanation.

They were on the Astral Plane - a vast interstitial space in between the magical worlds of the Sephiroth and Seraphim and the material realm of mortals. Zyrdicia barely knew this part of the Astral Plane - there were fountains of harmless blue magical plasma all around them that somehow connected to an elemental world of water, somewhere. She had been here once with Azriok, watching the fountains as a very young child. She had a vague recollection of this being a stopping-off point once on the way home from hunting Seraphim. She remembered sitting on the edge of one of these pools and sucking marrow from a gigantic wing-bone. But that had been more than a century ago.

The iridescent blue fluid spurted high into the air in sprays and small geysers then pooled in glowing ponds all around the ground. It was eerily pretty.

Affecting a bored expression, she glanced at Draven and said, "Well?"

He pointed to a twenty-foot spout of aquamarine, glittering fluid and said, "There. That's the one."

"The one what?"

"The marker," he said, walking toward it. He stepped ankle-deep into the pool at the base of the fountain-like spray. As he stood there, his body slowly submerged into the fluid as though drawn down by its own weight.

Zyrdicia followed, vaguely annoyed now. They were apparently going to a magical water world. And he hadn't been joking about having difficulty porting from the Astral Plane - he was using a naturally existing crack in between worlds to move.

The fluid caused no sensation of wetness. It felt almost like heavy air on the skin. Once she sunk into the blue plasma, she had no difficulty breathing in it. Draven grabbed her hand and started moving through the fluid. In a moment, the Astral transition space gave way and with a loud "plopping" sound they emerged in the depths of a golden ocean-like world.

She was now inside a bubble with Draven, floating in a vast, glittering ocean. The bubble floated in a world of magical water creatures - swarms of tiny merfolk and water fairies riding sea horses darted past them. Draven's magic propelled the bubble toward a cave mouth with a bright golden light emanating from it.

She grumbled quietly, "This is a pretty goofy way of traveling. I really need to show you the trick to using portals on the Astral Plane."

He continued staring straight ahead, and his expression didn't change. She saw his eyes flick toward her, though. He said evenly, "I would like that."

The instant they passed through the opening into the cave, they were transported to a dry world, and the bubble burst. Although this world lacked a sun, it was illuminated by a dull, gold light that seemed to come from every point of a golden sky. The intensity of the light made it nearly impossible for Zyrdicia to see.

"Fuck!" she hissed, squinting at the light.

Draven pointed at a decaying white structure a few yards away. "That's our destination."

"We have to be halfway to Luminaria," she hissed.

"Closer than that, I think," he said. "That building used to be a prison for demons."

"Used to be?"

"Best I can tell, the Sephiroth busted out their pets and destroyed the prison's magic eons ago. It's a ruin now. The right wall has blast marks on it from Hellfire."

"How did you find this place?"

"I like to wander."

"On the edge of the Seraphim world?" she wondered skeptically.

"I sometimes go through passages between worlds just to see where they lead."

"Ever been to Hell's Gate?" she teased.

"Yeah, and that's one I'm not interested in going through," he replied, smirking.

Zyrdicia did not like this place. Something about it made her uneasy. But there was no lingering sign of white magic in the building. Whatever magical spells had once confined demons inside it was long broken. And she was certain Draven was correct about a Sephiroth attack on this place - she could see faint magical traces of it everywhere. She recognized the faint golden spots on the white steps of the demolished building as dried Seraphim blood. Beyond the steps, the entire front portico had collapsed. There was no longer a front door.

Draven walked around to the side of the ruined structure where there was a gaping hole in wall. Zyrdicia stared at the opening and hesitated. Something about this place unnerved her. She had never heard of any Seraphim prisons for demons, and she was surprised one had ever existed. She wondered what else Azriok had failed to tell her.