"Are you dead, or just old, Azuri?" The voice was cruel and sarcastic, but comforting nonetheless, for it was the voice not of a prisoner, but of a free man. Having been deluded by his fond desire to see his dead daughter, Azuri now preferred Frellyx's naked contempt, adorned by bejewelled lies, to the truth of his bereavement. While all was not right in the world, and here was not a good place to be, at least it was not there, and his dim memory of escape was no dream. While truth was a cage, and lies were chains, a future could only be forged by freedom.
Sentenced by The High Tzhurarkh to penal construction, Azuri the murderer had been led forth, in manacles, to the 103rd floor of the Sicevalyr Monument, his new purgatory until the next ten floors were finished, which, considering the knotty convolutions of five-dimensional elven architecture, might have taken anywhere from five to five hundred years, had his incarceration not been interrupted by Frellyx, who had dispatched Elani and Kuilea for his rescue.
Reprobates like Azuri—who swore at deposition and trial that he was overjoyed to kill his daughter's murderers—were forced into construction of the elves' improbable designs, the better to incarcerate their minds along with their bodies, for being condemned not only to build the rarefied heights of the Alfyrian skyline, but somehow to live, eat, and sleep in the dizzying edificies under construction—where tortured girders crossed thousand foot drops; where walls doubled as floors, redoubled as ceilings, and bisected nine different rooms; where the open sky was incorporated into the structure, becoming a suffocating medium for connection and completion; and where order was so imperceptible as to seem chaos—also condemned these prisoners to an impossibly thin existence at the heightened fringe of Alfyrian perception, for while elves might think and see in ways lesser beings did not, few enjoyed constant immersion in multidimensional vision, just as claustrophobic goblins did not like being buried alive, and light-loving humans did not sleep in blinding light.
If he felt justified in murdering, and deserving of his punishment, he was grateful for his rescue, despite caring little for Frellyx, a dilettante wizard too lazy to bother with friendship, and too crafty not to ensure Azuri's loyalty by the geas. Soon regretting leaving a rigorous but indifferent prison for the crueller restrictions of the elven wizard, he now hated Frellyx.
While his eyes had flicked open, Azuri's mind lingered in numb blackness as the world flowered from the white, brown, and gray shuffle, and the clamor shifted from chaos drowned in pandemonium to laughs, murmurs, and the unusually lucid insult dropped disdainfully by Frellyx. In lifting his woozy eyes, it felt like a great weight had settled not only on his neck, shoulders, and chest, pinning him to the bench on which he lay, but on his eyelids, which seemed sealed shut by the immense heaviness. With a devastating groan, he propped himself on his elbows. Frellyx shadowed him to his left, and Elani sat at his feet.
In lifting one leg off the stone ledge, then lowering it gently, gingerly, to the floor, that weak movement hurled a ball of pain, bursting his consciousness into shards. If his mind was shattered clay,
his body was weak as putty, his bones wobbled like noodles, and his muscles sagged under his burden of bereavement, incarceration, and his part in the destruction wreaked on his world.
"Have you taken me all the way to Hravak?"
The concourse had a not entirely unpleasant but acrid smell, like a freshly tanned saddle, or a newly cobbled shoe. Youths mailed in armor of jointed bone, and elders robed in red, blue, or purple, thronged in to fill lengthy, curved benches sanded bone-white, but not nearly so white as the people, who were so pale that they were nearly blue from the webbed veins knotted not only in bulging arms and legs, but in their proud and hungry faces.
His groggy eyes bobbed up, taking in the strange lines of the building. Although crafted in but three dimensions, the bewildering building seemed neither ruled nor planned, having no straight lines at all, but slashing curves from point to point; not masoned corners, but nodes joining the gigantic chamber like animal joints.
"What was this thing, Frellyx?"
"Places have no pedigree, Azuri."
Azuri snorted. "This one did."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Frellyx's tone was lazy but capricious.
"This is still Nymerea."
"Of course it is," sniffed Frellyx. "It's only been an hour, ambassador."
Azuri scowled. "I'm no ambassador. Not any more."
"They don't know that." Frellyx pointed to the milling, murmuring giants.
"You enlarged me."
Despite Azuri's subdued murmur, Frellyx shifted in his seat as if Azuri had shouted his accusation. Not that it wasn't blatantly obvious, now that he was only hungry, and no longer dizzy--
these willow white things might be human-formed, but their eerie sapphire eyes gave them away. If he was in his natural body, these murmurs, grumbles, and scuffling boots would be roars and tremors. As only the whim of an ill-willed sorcerer stood between him and two-hundred giant boots--any one of which could crush him to bloody paste--Azuri began to sweat. He was an elf among hundreds of giants.
"Well done." Frellyx rolled his eyes. "What clued you in, ambassador."
"Don't call me that. What was this thing? Or don't you know?"
"It's not that interesting." Frellyx waved his hand, as if to poo-poo the subject.
"You're lying."
Frellyx sighed. "To be honest, I've forgotten its name. Some monolithic animal hunted to extinction. While their ancestors used these hollowed beasts for their hallowed caves, once I taught them weapons, stonemasonry and woodcraft, those backwards lumps proved clever enough to wipe out their revered beasts, not only mass producing temples, but houses, civil structures, restaurants, storefronts, and art galleries. As surely as agriculture supplanted cannibalism, this skeletal architecture superceded religion in any shape you would understand. I often forget how far they've crawled from the rough-hewn beginnings in which I found them, when both food and god took the image of a giant."
Frellyx pointed to the floor, then the far well, to illustrate his next points. "These carpets were its fur, those walls were cut from its tanned leather, and the windows were shaved from its milky nails."
"Where is she?"
"You're not yourself." Frellyx's concerned tones veiled reproach, just as his thin, snakeskin smile masked ugly intentions for Azuri. "My daughter's beside you."
"No." Azuri scowled. "Eurilda."
"Even I don't know, Azuri. Had you studied charms and incantations, we might have had an interesting, if abstract, discussion on where Eurilda is, or rather, was, for, as I understand it, her enchanted pouch displaces its contents several seconds in the past. Technically, she isn't anywhere.
Since she isn't nowhere, either, but in a vaguely defined imminence that will never arrive for so long as we do not pull the drawstrings, she neither is or is not, but only might be. As she may never be, she may never will have been, which is only a will removed from may never have been. Trapped in contingency, your enemy is no longer a person, but a soap bubble. Perhaps a popped soap bubble. No one knows--not even I." The elven wizard's weary voice was steeped in condescending sarcasm.
"On the contrary, wizard. Having taught elven grammar and logic, I understand your circumlocutions perfectly. As in, 'she might be dead if you pull those strings.'"
"Even if you weren't under geas, she's not only bested you once, but made a toy of you thereafter," sighed Frellyx. "While I'm not fool enough to disrespect your prowess, well knowing the carnage you left in the hidden heights of the Quront Sabata, including the destriction you wreaked on artifacts I collected at no small cost, an elf should know better than to threaten a wizard...even one out of earshot. Wizards have ways."
"Let her hear me," growled Azuri. "Hear me now, witch! I'll cut off your head when it pokes from this bag."
"Nothing would make me gladder, Azuri," said Frellyx, "but if you value your life, or would like to see Cyhari, bide your time until Eurilda knows she is in my power."
Azuri's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" As Azuri stood, his enlarged muscles shuddered and his stretched bones shook. While he felt infinitely mightier, he also felt on the verge of collapse, and when the ground seemed a deadly distance to fall, irregardless of his expanded body, Azuri staggered, grasped the bench, and groaned, "there's something wrong with your enchantment."
"Maybe with your ears, Azuri, but not with my magic. You're simply unaccustomed to living large."
"Living? How long must I weather this unsupportable body? Breathing is such an effort I might forget or forego my next."
"Becalm yourself, Azuri. Sit down." As a robed giant moved to the rostrum, Frellyx whispered, "if you would see Cyhari, spare your uncertain breath, old elf. I know your desires better than you."
"Then why aren't you dead!" At his half-shouted, scathing tone, bearded faces turned and glowered, and Azuri dropped to a whisper. "You taunt me with my daughter's name!"
"What to call her then," Frellyx said laconically, with a dismissive wave. "Name her after your favorite goblins, if you wish. But she lives." He fixed Azuri with a steely glare. "Know that she lives, Azuri. I do not waste words, or my time, on lies."
"It's not your time I'm concerned about," Azuri snarled, "but my own. As to wasting words, you might have said this with more brevity. A week at my embassy post would have taught you economy."
"But you weren't really an ambassador, were you?" said Frellyx. "You were the captain of the guard. When Eurilda shrunk your brain, did she squeeze your memories as well?"
"It was an embassy post," muttered Azuri. "Having more public contact than the staff, my comportment and conduct mattered most. In matters of state, there were few names I didn't know."
"I suppose that's true. Bur even if it was a lie, it would be diplomatic to make the same allowances for you as you do yourself." Frellyx turned to the rostrum. "Quiet. He's about to speak."
Azuri ignored him. "For instance, that's Vulgrud of the Nacretu, the religion that evolved from the cannibal cult you re-educated five hundred years ago."
When Frellyx smiled, his double-dimples stretched. While not so rare as violet hair, the higher dimple some elves had was a recessive trait. With it, Frellyx could "smile twice," adding comment or emphasis to an easy first smile by beaming even broader to a higher crinkle.
"Double-dimples are ghastly," said Azuri. "I've always thought so."
"I would have to agree. Shh."
No sooner had Vulgrud doffed his hood and beamed a broad, predatory smile, than the thronged giants shuddered in joyous bellows, until his imperious finger and arrogant chin swept left and right in a gesture that accused, as much as it embraced, their dying roar.
"What will you do?" When his coaxing, playful purr was underscored and belied by a ravenous growl, the audience echoed him, their grumbles like hunger pains in the long-dead brute amphitheater.
"What will you do?" he roared. "Hunger and die, or devour and live?" As the roar drowned out the rest of his demand, he sipped from a bone flask and waited out the storm of their enthusiasm.
"However noble and dignified, our thoughts cannot define the deep cravings of our hungry flesh; all must feed, and the burden of our appetite is the greatest. What of it? Even the gods are fatted sheep for the Abnegator, The Hunger Who Lies Above. Not that our father, the Abnegator, makes us great. Even vermin are made in his image; even humans, elves, and goblins hunt, fish and fill sheepcotes." As his chin rested on his chest, he fixed his baleful, malevolent eyes on the audience. "If worlds are our sheepcotes, we take no pride in this, but find our purpose according to his will."
"What is he advocating?" As this agitator urged cannibalism--"Fatted sheep...vermin...worlds are our sheepcotes..."--Azuri was appalled by the horror of the proposal,and struggled to preserve an indifferent tone.
"A healthy diet." Frellyx's impish grin was whetted even sharper by his sarcastic tone. "For the giants, that is."
"These are your allies?" Reluctant astonishment creeped into Azuri's voice.
"Allies." Frellyx's snicker bottomed out into a booming laugh that shook the speaker's hold on the audience. As they turned to him, he rolled his eyes and leaned conspiratorially towards Azuri. "Even with all the giants in Uenarak, I could not presume to wage war on the High Tzhurarkh. Not only has the commerce and indolence of peace conquered our colonies, but The High Tzhurarkh can field hundreds of thousands anywhere in the Five Worlds."
Azuri was now so much larger and thicker that even his lowest tone shivered the bone amphiteater. "The Alfyrian Web has not been used in two hundred years."
"The Aflyrian Web? Too slow. You have not kept pace with advances. Were you not curious as to what broke the siege of the Quront Sabata?"
"Being a part of those events, I was hungry to know. But what news we had of the outside world
was gossip brought by pleasure-seeking malefactors sentenced to join our crew. I heard only rumors that the High Tzhurarkh could now strike any world.""
"That awesome power is known as the Alfyrian Fire. While the Alfyrian Web was a grand weave of Alfyrian Ladders, chaining thousands of Cerund knights into a coherent filament flung into the Abyss, it still required laborious, harrowing climbing. The Alfyrian Fire shoots through the Abyss, flinging its eldritch storm of elves, swords, and spears, instantly, from our world to another."
"Even for elves, that's madness," said Azuri. "I refuse to believe it. Hundreds would die in each volley."
"When humans wage war, many die from accident, disease, food and water poisoning, or petty squabbles, long before weapons spill blood. As the Alfyrian Fire is a faster, more civilized means of deployment, those en route are spared the suffering primitive armies undergo."
"And go mad in the journey."
"You've contracted goblin-mind, Azuri. We are neither goblins, nor humans, but elves. The Abyss is meaningless space to us, when our elven minds navigate more difficult journeys in our cities."
Cordoned off by a blue sash, their small section seated only themselves, a few pasty-white humans, and a dozen dryads in delicate efflorescent weaves of roseate, pink, and violet blossoms, and herbaceous garlands that rooted in their hosts like orchids. As those giants seated along the sash's edge turned dark, indignant glances, their beards seemed to bristle.
"Where are the women?" said Elani. "You said giants are an enlightened race."
"You're putting words in my mouth," sighed Frellyx. "What I said was that I enlightened the giants. That said, they have a long way to go. Fortunately, the elves have a long way to fall, and with some assistance, it will be an even battle."
"How did you turn the Kundan Cerund?" said Azuri.
"Good diplomacy is all about sending a letter at the right time. As envy and resentment of the Treikondand Cerund had already soured the Kundan Cerund against their High Tzhurarkh, I merely encouraged this good taste and abetted their instinct for rebellion." Frellyx laughed. "You think I corrupted them, when the line was already drawn. Like a good sculptor who lets the future shape the stone, I see what lurks in the hearts of my fellows. While I am persuasive, it is easier to turn light into dark than good into evil--no matter what Zvoru believes, no one is so charismatic."
Elani leaned into their discussion. "Not to interrupt, but I would hear Vulgrud's argument."
"What's the point?" snipped Frellyx, with a put-upon frown and a shrug. "Unfortunately, I know Vulgrud. You can sum up his point of view as, 'nothing personal, but I relish the thought of caging your cities and making them abbattoirs.'
"That's your common ground?" Azuri felt his face contort into ugly incredulity.
"Why would I want common ground with such a monster?" Frellyx's eyebrows raised. "I don't want him to find his footing, I want him destabilized and dissatisfied, for if his hunger ever feels fed, he won't nudge the giants over the brink of war." He turned to Azuri. "You'll be interested in this next part."
"We have the traitor." Vulgrud's roar dropped to a coaxing, soothing murmur as he dangled Eurilda's pouch by the drawstrings. "The vermin-lover, the abomination is here. We can rip her from this false womb whenever we choose." When the cheering throng rose up, Azuri's view was blocked by fists pumping into the air. "What does this mean?" Having taunted the audience, Vulgrud tantalized them with a long pause. "What does this mean?"
"Otoka." Wafting through the resounding silence, this answer was taken up in chant: "Otoka! Otoka! Otoka!"
"Yes," Vulgrud said with smug satisfaction, "Otoka and his rebels are ours. And how do we have Eurilda's cooperation?"
When Azuri muttered, "not likely," Frellyx nodded.
"Ordinarily, you would be right. But they have something she wants--much like the leverage I have over you."
"Do you mean the geas? There is no leverage," Azuri sighed. "You have yet to show me Cyhari."
"Watch."
When Vulgrud's beard slid into a malevolent grin, a savage, thronged roar shook the hall as the giants mobbed the shadowy pit beneath the stage, seeming to swell twice their hulking size, their icy blue veins writhing in their rage and their faces contorted by snorts, snarls, and mouths widened by hollers, then hardened and twisted by bloodlust into war-masks.
When Vulgrud grasped the lectern, and leaned into his monstrous grin, the massed giants cheered, so drowning out his words that he banged on the pulpit with the ball of his fist.
"Let her speak!" shouted one.
"We'll put it to a vote!" he shouted.
"He won't let her speak." This murmured accusation soon became a roar, then blared, seeming to raise the dead chamber to angry life.
"Let her speak!" Clamping his huge hands to the bench in front of him, Azuri gripped it in white knuckles, then leaned forward so far that it flung his spittle another yard. "Let her out!"
"Who said that?" growled Vulgrud
When the gigantified goblins, humans, and elves in the offworlder section scooted aside, giving the robed giant a line of sight to this voice of dissent, Azuri backpedaled, stumbling over his own seat to be struck in the small of his back by the next.
"A guest shouldn't wear thin the good graces bought by a noble friend."
"Nor should a host couch an ill-mannered threat in lies. Noble friend! As if Frellyx was ever noble or has ever truly served a friend!" While Frellyx might have ordered Azuri to sit down and be quiet, the elven wizard only smiled his smug smile, and leaned back.
"Insolent vermin!" Having nearly choked on this apoplectic snort, Vulgrud's violent cough fanned to a roar. "Do not think your growth spell evens us out! We see eye to eye only for the moment, and our minds will never meet."
"What do you fear?" said Azuri. "Let her speak."
"She'll have her time on stage. And hold her tongue if she knows what's good for her. Traitors have no platform here."
Before Azuri could respond,Frellyx tapped his shoulder, shrunk him to the size of a small hound, snatched his long, white hair, and swung him like a fob, provoking a round of rude, gutteral laughter.
"Stop it!" Elani's bellowing, angry face was blurry from whirling and the pain of a thousand taut roots, like so many tiny hooks in his scalp, pinching, popping, and tickling his eyes and nose with the brush of snapped hair. "Father! Stop!"
"You care for this antique?" While Frellyx's sneer always made Azuri a little nauseous, being whirled, and now dangled between the two giant elves, set this disgust racing until he became positively ill, vomiting a chunky, sour mash. As his eyesight settled, he saw that the giant nuts and berries Zvoru had so reluctantly served were nearly undigested, as if his stomach had become befuddled by the strange fruits.
"I took care in freeing him, father. Your cruelty is unnnecessary."
"Only work and philosophy are necessary. Everything else is entertainment. Would you deny this small pleasure, when Azuri has never been so pleasant?"
Elani smacked his outstretched palm, scooped Azuri from her startled father's grasp, then darted down the amphitheater steps. Woozy, jostled, and rattled, Azuri sat up in her palm, and might have tumbled off, to be trod under her jogging feet, had she not tipped him back with her free hand, then closed him in her doubled fist.
"Wait!" Azuri said groggily, "Eurilda..."
"Had you not a loud mouth, you might have witnessed everything. With dozens who might have taken you for a tasty snack, my father no doubt saved your life."
"To the merriment of all."
"You're not wrong," said Elani. "And if giants are loathsome, my father is more so. Those that aren't unfeeling brutes are constantly scheming. I miss the animals of my woods. What thinking is not a perversion of nobler instincts?"
"Restraint," said Azuri. "Which I might have remembered. Thank you."
"Of course." Setting Azuri down, Elani unraveled his diminishment with a word, then magnified him with another, so that he shot so high and so fast, dizziness grayed his vision.
"We might still watch most of the assembly." A half-dozen Elanis wheeled in his shuddering eyesight as she came into focus.
"Can't you shield me from changes?" Azuri hissed as he rubbed his eyes. While glad to be on an equal footing with the giants again, he felt flimsy and worn, like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and unwadded over and over again.
"Defence against magic requires an act of will. It's not unlike parrying a sword. Had I the time to teach you, you might ward spells better than a wizard, given your renown in combat. For now, a proofing spell will deflect only the next change spell."
"Please," said Azuri.
"Easier done than said." Elani caressed his forearm. "It's done. The spell will be strained by distance, and soon wear away, but if you keep close, I can reapply the spell."
When his eyes flicked to the wood witch, she nodded toward the austere layers of bone and sandstone, which now so nearly resembled a gigantic dragon there was no doubt it had been one in life.
Though she had some hidden motive for keeping him near, Azuri followed closely.
Had this half-human developed designs on him, or mere affections? Or only half-thought or half-felt motions of the mind and heart, more fitting the half-formed bodies and brains of humans?
Not only was she a tender age--surely no more than a century--in all other ways, she compared unfavorably to Cezzina, Cyhari's mother and Azuri's late wife. If Elani shone with warmth, it could only result in a primitive dalliance, like a lizard drawn to sunning on a rock. We would think very little of himself if he succumbed to her charms. While she wanted him, and might even fight to possess him,
nothing she felt was not need and appetite. Azuri well knew by sating this hunger he might achieve his own will, but he was too old to humor the young, and, moreover, resented paying the price of gratitude to one so blinded by lust.
On entering the amphitheater, they passed stragglers in ceremonial gowns or armor.
Azuri sighed. "Tell me the truth, Elani."
"About your daughter?" Elani turned her face again. "I will not betray my father, Azuri."
"Then that's my answer. I'm no fool, and won't be treated as one. Give Frellyx my regards." When Azuri turned on his heel, her palm rested on his forearm. Though both were giant-sized, her hand felt slight, light, and warm. When he thought again of the lizard basking on stone, he chuckled.
Her arm shrank back. "Please stay."
"To what purpose? If we go back, I'll find myself in a pitched battle with giants, for how can I see Eurilda without wishing her dead? There is only one thing I want more."
"You will soon see Cyhari." Elani scowled and pursed her lips, as if she had only let that out with great reluctance, then raised her hot, bright eyes. "I promise it. Moreover, you may find something you want more than that."
"In my long life, I've learned anything is possible, not that it's given me much hope. Every desirable unlikelihood is swarmed by relentless, hopeless things, but who am I to discourage your adorable optimism?"
"A laudable sentiment," said a hoarse voice. This grizzled straggler having stopped in front of them, now turned, standing between them and the amphitheater. "You are Azuri?"
This giant's hooded companion slouched against the wall. Not only did Azuri not recognize the grey-bearded speaker, but he could not penetrate his associate's shrouds, shawls, and other wraps, including a hood with a cowl draping to the bridge of their nose, covering the eyes so completely that if they were not walking completely blind, either the fabric was gauzier than it looked, or they trod very carefully, looking under their veils to their feet.
"Forgive me," said Azuri. "I've known a few giants by name, but they're all but forgotten."
"We've never met, although we have a few mutual acquaintances: my apprentice, and the vagabond pet she dared make her lover."
When Azuri gripped the hilt of his shakasia, and rattled it out an inch, the blade scraped and shivered. "I know those names well. You mean Khyte...and Eurilda."
"If you knew me, you would not throw your life away so thoughtlessly."
"Perhaps I might give a good account of myself."
"Did she never speak of Otoka the Wise?"
Azuri shook his head, but grimaced in recognition of the name. "Who has not heard of the giants' master wizard? Not that I knew Eurilda was your student." Azuri slid his sword home in its scabbard. "One called the Wise should be a better judge of character."
"She is as I desired. While I do not think myself evil, I am not Otoka the Good, am I? I knew these days were coming, when I would have more need of a ruthless, amoral apprentice than a conscientious soul who second guessed my every order."
Taking another step back, Azuri clutched Elani's elbow and pulled her to his chest. "You're here for Eurilda."
Otoka chuckled. "While I have never heard you were a keen mind, I had greater expectations of you."
"Why reveal yourself to me?"
"I had hopes." Otoka stroked his beard. "I thought you might help me in my cause."
"Why would I ever do that?"
"Azuri," said Elani. "Step away."
"If you are truly Frellyx's daughter, he has more to fear from you." Otoka snorted. "Tell your father my work is not only finished, but has surpassed our expectations."
"If you surpassed..." Elani's eyes narrowed. "...you went too far. We wanted an impeccable likeness."
"An unfortunate misunderstanding, Elani. Having heard not "impeccable" but "perfect," I have made her so. Come forward, girl."
"Azuri!" Though Elani dragged at his arm, Azuri shrugged her off, unable to tear his eyes from the cowled giantess. If she was a giant, why was her stance and her walk so familiar?
"Cyhari?"
The giant woman lowered her hood, revealing her daughter's eyes embedded in her haunting outline, but of the real Cyhari, nothing else escaped. If those details seemed to animate the shape, its grotesque dissimilarities only evoked the real daughter he had cradled, both as an infant, and as a cooling corpse. Its skin was not elven bronze but the milky white of giants, its hair was raven black, and while Cyhari hadn't been stinting in smiles, hers were cold, sarcastic, and mocking, unlike this benign, gentle tracing of his daughter.
"Very clever, wizard."
"Isn't she?"
"Isn't she what? A hodge-podge? Your copy hasn't the spark of my daughter. You didn't even get the hair right. It should be auburn-gold."
"Auburn-gold is an elvish shade, and my aim was to make her perfect." Otoka bowed slightly. "You should thank me. From a corpse whose death was the least of her imperfections, I crafted this beauty before you."
"Elvish shade?" Azuri's shout drew stragglers near. "Cyhari is not..." His eyes flickered to his daughter's double. "You didn't!"
"Obviously." Otoka's face twisted to a scornful moue. "She's standing before you."
Having finally realized it, Elani glared at Otoka. "That wasn't part of the deal."
"As if I had any intention of honoring your deal. Given the means of making one ally in bad faith, I now make another in all sincerity. If it suits Azuri."
"My father will hear of this!"
"No doubt he will, after you've had your fill of grass." When Otoka's hand darted out, blue light lashed Elani, who for an instant dwindled to a spark, before swelling, then hulking into a colossal creature with no head between its tusked shoulders and a ravening, fanged maw under its belly.
As the kiuvathi lumbered near the approaching giants, Azuri and Otoka turned to the amphitheater.
"She said she could parry that," said Azuri.
"There's a world of difference between could and did, as those you have killed knew in their final moments, when their parries shattered under your blows." Otoka chuckled. "Some swordsmen have more skill; some wizards have more authority. It is not easy to ward my spells."
"Take this however you please," said Azuri. "But if I wouldn't help her, why would I help you? Your creature is not my daughter."
"No," admitted Otoka. "She's better in every way. Your Cyhari was an elf, and this one is a giant. While yours dabbled at everything, judging by her patterns of mind, this one has already mastered three spells."
"Judging by what?" Azuri reined in his indignation, but only just, so that the barest bite sharpened his tone. "Then you're not only a grave robber, you're a mind robber. You still have my daughter in truth."
"If you mean her remains, those leftovers no longer answer to her name. This one does." At Otoka's casual reduction of Cyhari to cold food, Azuri's loathing burned white hot. However articulate this wizard was, he was still a giant, prone to ignoble cravings for flesh living or dead, including, it was rumored, the corpses of their own kind. "Why seek solace in grieving over bones, when her living image stands enfleshed?" Otoka shrugged. "What will you do? Watch us go inside? Leave? I think not. Sympathy or curiosity will draw you in."
Azuri scowled. "You deserve your sobriquet, wizard."
"Most days," smiled Otoka.
"What's your plan?"
"What plan?" yawned Otoka. "We're walking in, then walking out again. With my apprentice."