Chapter 485: A Calculated Alliance!
Bruce closed his eyes, then he thought about the meeting. He thought about the old soul.
He thought about Sisel Marn. About Ashen Carr. About Grave Ondar. About Elenora’s small quiet smile.
He thought about the seal that would go on him tomorrow or the day after, the mark of Elenora Vessa’s personal sponsorship, visible to every soul in the city who knew how to read such things, changing his position in the political layer in a way that would compound with every subsequent step of his climb.
He thought about Sophie. He still couldn’t find the way path, but He was able to send a thread thought.
’I am all right. I have made a political decision that changes my next several months in this realm. I have been targeted by a Nonagon member I have never met and I am about to accept the protection of a Nonagon member I met tonight. I am middle-E-rank, still a weak soul, but I’m seeing a lot of progress... I am being careful. I miss you.’
The thread hummed thin between the realms. He did not know if the thought reached her. He sent it anyway.
The seventh day was done. Tomorrow morning he would send word to Caelen. In two days, he would accept Elenora’s sponsorship for a two-month term. The seal would be placed. The city’s political layer would rearrange itself around the new fact of his alignment. Sisel Marn would be blocked. Ashen Carr would be forewarned. Grave Ondar might approach anyway. The other Nonagon members would recalibrate.
The climb would continue. He was, tonight, more embedded in the political layer of Xiltra than he had planned to be. He was also, tonight, more protected in it than he had been an hour ago. The trade was one he had made. He would live with it.
He lay down on the pallet. He slept.
Outside, Xiltra moved through its own evening, and Elenora Vessa was probably reading a report by lantern light in a room somewhere in the Spire district, and Caelen was probably eating his own late dinner, and the old soul was probably closing the last of their kitchen for the night, and Sisel Marn was probably sitting somewhere much colder, unaware yet of the seal that would go on Bruce Ackerman by the end of the week.
Bruce slept deeply, and the thread hummed thin between the realms, and Sophie, somewhere in the labyrinth far away, sat beside his still body and, she could not have known, and she would not know until Bruce told her, months from now, made her own small preparations for the long wait she had chosen.
Bruce woke before dawn again.
The room was in its familiar pale pre-dawn quiet. He lay on his pallet and let his soul-body finish its overnight settling, the essence from yesterday’s short hunt integrating cleanly, the middle-E consolidation continuing to stabilize the second lower level of his interior chamber. He was firmly middle-E now. The rank felt like a coat that had begun to fit properly instead of one he had just put on.
He thought about the meeting.
He had thought about it during sleep too, the way a surgeon’s mind kept working on a difficult case even after they went home for the night, sorting and re-sorting the pieces of the day’s information into patterns that would be clearer in the morning. He woke with a slightly different understanding than he had gone to sleep with.
Elenora Vessa had been honest. He was ninety percent sure of this.
The old soul had also been honest. He was ninety-five percent sure of this.
But honesty did not mean complete disclosure. Elenora had told him true things. She had also chosen which true things to tell him and which true things to leave for the old soul to fill in. The choice of what to say and what to withhold was itself a political move, and Bruce had to hold both facts at once, that Elenora was probably honest, and that she was still playing politics with him. Those were not contradictions. They were the terms of engagement with someone at her rank.
He filed this. He got up.
Kael was already awake, the demon had a habit, Bruce had noticed, of waking whenever Bruce woke, as if some part of Kael tracked Bruce’s movements even in sleep. Kael sat on the edge of his bed practicing with fire again. The two-layer flame from yesterday was now a three-layer flame, three concentric flames occupying the same physical space, each at a different temperature. Kael’s technique was accelerating.
Theron was still asleep. Bruce let him sleep.
"Morning," Kael said quietly.
"Morning."
"You’ve made your decision."
"I made it last night. Two-month sponsorship. Renewable. That’s what I’ll send to Caelen this morning."
"Any changes overnight?"
"No. The overnight thinking confirmed it. The old soul’s counsel was solid. Elenora will accept the shortened term. Sisel Marn is a real threat. The trade is right."
"Alright."
Kael dispelled the three-layer flame carefully and stood up.
"How do you want to send the message?" he asked.
"Caelen said he’ll be at the fountain in the main square at noon-equivalent every day. I’ll go there myself. This is a message that should be delivered in person by me, not by any intermediary. It signals that I take Elenora seriously enough to walk to her intermediary rather than send word."
"That’s a good signal."
"Yes."
"And after?"
"After, we hunt. The old soul said Elenora needs to shield me through the ranks where I am still vulnerable, up to D and C, at least. So the sponsorship’s practical value depends on what portals she opens for us. I want to know what the higher-value E-rank portals feel like. And I want to start pushing toward D."
"Push toward D on day eight."
"Yes. We are middle E. D is one solid week’s worth of hunting away if we can get access to the better portals. The sponsorship should give us that access starting today or tomorrow."
Kael nodded. He was already ready. He had been ready before Bruce woke.