Take Back Worlds (Diamond Universe: Sierra Walker #3)

Chapter 4

“ T hat is the weirdest sensation,” I mutter into Nariel’s shoulder as my being coalesces back from shadow into physical form.

We float high in the sky, Sarenac City spread out below us.

I’ve never seen it from this angle.

Abruptly I realize why: I’ve never been quite this high, because Sarenac City has a shield of spell defenses in case other grand magi try to attack.

But they can’t keep a being like Nariel in, or out.

Nariel rests his chin on my head, spinning us lazily, in no rush to take us anywhere. “Are you all right?”

“Just dizzy for a few seconds. I’ll get used to it. Can we have sex as shadows?”

“Not in any way we could appreciate,” Nariel says dryly. “In that state we can’t feel sensations. And I think you know that’s not what I meant.”

Yeah. I sigh.

“No,” I say in a small voice. “Are you? I almost—“

“I’m fine,” he cuts me off.

“But—“

“ No buts ,“ Nariel says. “I felt your fear. You needed the power.”

“I didn’t need that much.”

“You had less than seconds, and you’re new at this—“

“Small comfort if I kill you before I can get not new at this!”

Nariel growls at me. “Breathe, Sierra.”

I am breathing—

I am not breathing.

His hand slams into my back, forcing me to expel my breath and suck in a new one, which I then choke on.

Little by little my breath stabilizes, but I’m shaking.

I am losing it.

“That was too close,” I whisper.

“We’re here,” Nariel says, which isn’t disagreement.

But what else can he say? That there won’t be more close calls? Obviously there will. That we have time to figure it out? We absolutely do not.

I’m so tired.

Physically, mentally. But also just sort of existentially.

It’s not even that I ever expected I wouldn’t have to keep fighting. I just wish the fights weren’t so stupid .

His arms tighten around me. “You’re too tired to be at your best.”

I remind myself he’s not actually telepathic as I drop my head against his shoulder like a weight. “I’ll be tired again, and that’s not an excuse for almost killing you.”

“Like I almost killed you when we first bonded?”

“That’s a totally different situation, which we’re never going to be in again. Like I get that you mean I’m making bad decisions and fighting when I shouldn’t be—“

“No, I don’t mean that at all,” Nariel says, a touch of growl in his voice. “I will never be the one to tell you not to fight, especially when you’re under attack.”

I blink up at him.

“I mean,” he says, “that you’re not in the right headspace to see all the possibilities, and at this of all times you need that.”

True.

“Was there an option that didn’t make all the grand magi our enemies right now?” I ask. “Because I got through that fight, but they didn’t actually rescind their order to apprehend me. So we’re not currently surrounded, which I guess is an improvement, but did I make everything else even worse?”

Nariel considers. “I don’t think so. Your ultimatum has bought us a little time, I think—while they figure out how serious you were, as they test boundaries. Not much, but—“

“But we don’t have much anyway.” I sigh. Maybe I didn’t totally fuck everything up then. Maybe it was always going to be fucked, I’ve just chosen the specific way in which we’re fucked.

“I’m going to have to count on you for a little while longer to try and have some of those thoughts for me, then,” I say. Nariel tenses, but before he can say anything more I rush out, “Can you take us toward that other tower, please?”

Sarenac City has two.

One for the Council of Grand Magi.

And one for the grand magus who lives here.

Nariel doesn’t move. “We both need rest. We’re not going to be able to save everyone today, Sierra.”

Maybe we can burn all our bridges in one day though, did he ever think of that?

My heart twists. “Maybe not. But we at least need to start today, so we can save them as soon as possible. And that means dealing with Evram, whether we—or anyone, honestly—want that or not.”

Nariel takes a breath and phases us back through the shield. I’m getting better with the disorientation already, conscious of his wings making a powerful push as he starts us in motion.

“I believe we did just deal with Evram,” he points out dryly.

I snort. “I mean, yes, but that was him being melodramatic to play for the audience. Without the grand magi watching, he’ll be less flashy but possibly more dangerous, because he has had hundreds of years to lay spells everywhere in this city. I know a lot of them, but he had secrets from me even when I was here, and it’s been a decade. The other grand magi aren’t as immediate of a concern, because they’re not here, but we don’t have time for me to expend energy constantly looking over my shoulder, which means he and I need to have it out and figure out how we’re going to make this work.”

I dig into my pack for more beads, and I take them all.

I’d meant these to be for emergencies, and this is, but I didn’t think I was going to run through my whole emergency supply within an hour of arriving.

I’m still tired, but at least I have magic.

I won’t ever let him take that from me again.

“And if you can’t?” Nariel asks.

I look him in the eye and grin. “You know I can.”

His lips curve up. “True.”

“But since you ask, if I can’t get him to work with me, I’ll neutralize him.”

Nariel’s eyebrows lift. “Do I have a part to play in that?”

“I have no idea. That’s Future Sierra’s problem, Nariel, and it’s frankly rude for you to expect me to have an answer now.”

He laughs aloud at that and does not express any doubt in present or future Sierra whatsoever, and I cling to him maybe more than the speed of our flight really merits.

I close my eyes and start working on a spell, trusting Nariel to keep us in the sky. Evram will be surrounded by traps, but they’d been there for decades when I knew him—I doubt he’s removed any, even if he’s added some.

But I open my eyes again when Nariel takes an abrupt dive.

I have my hand extended and full of lightning ready to fire before Nariel explains, “Destien flagged me from the ground in front of the tower. Figure we should see if he has something useful to tell us first.”

Argh. He probably does, but I can’t help banging my head against Nariel’s shoulder in frustration. People are dying, and it’s infuriating that politics are keeping me from doing anything that matters.

“Destien is standing on a spell,” Nariel murmurs to me.

I reach out with my senses and... don’t feel anything.

Aha. “Land on it.”

Nariel’s gaze flicks to mine.

But he does as I’ve directed without question.

Thankfully, my assumption was correct, and Destien has spelled the sparkling stone tile here to sound-proof our conversation in a way that others can’t see. So it won’t look like he’s having a private conversation with us to anyone observing him, but nevertheless we can finally speak freely.

Which Destien confirms when he informs Nariel, “To anyone watching it will appear we are having a conversation about your accommodations in the official guest residence.” Oh, illusion too—good idea. “We don’t have much time, but there are a few things you need to know.”

“Like the fact that the grand magi are making the problem worse?” I demand.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Destien snaps. “People affected by the plague can be treated with a continual pouring of magic into them. My people have been fighting an uphill battle to keep the ones who receive treatment from being only the powerful.”

That’s about what I’d expect from rich people—even if it’s wealth in magic over money, but in High Earth the two are generally synonymous—but there’s one part that does surprise me.

“That’s working on the grand magus?” I ask. “I mean, not that he’s immune to bribery, but—“

“No, you’re correct, Evram’s only interested in favors that make him look special. After I opened the stash of angelic artifacts, Evram even donated some to the cause he felt he could part with.”

“Does he have that many?” I ask. “Why?”

“A valid question, but not the point. What you need to know is how I got myself appointed representative of High Earth to handle what they’re calling the Sierra Walker Problem.”

“By fixing Evram’s screw-up with kidnapping Brook and then setting up the surveillance at the Miyajima node.”

“Yes. And my knowledge of you. I came with a plan in hand and told them I’d take care of it, and I got their approval because they just wanted it to go away. But now that it’s not going away, understand that while I do have the ability to make binding agreements, it’s only as long as I hold the position. ”

“Don’t push them too hard until we’re ready, then,” Nariel murmurs, “because we’ll only get one shot.”

Destien meets his eyes and nods.

It hangs there for a moment.

And then I ask abruptly, “Did you ever want to be grand magus?”

Destien glances at me. “This is what you want to talk about? Now?”

“Now,” I say firmly.

Because I’m trying to reconcile my old rival with this man who is working against the privilege I always envied him for.

Destien glares at me. “Yes. And then I met you.”

I blink.

“Sierra, you could keep up with me by the time you were nine years old, when this world made me. At first everyone waited for you to flame out, and then for the grand magus to get bored of you. And then they dismissed you as an outlier from Low Earth, an exception.

“I’m sure you knew some of what people thought about you, but they weren’t saying it to your face. They were saying it to mine. Constantly. So yes, it made me angry at first, because I wanted to have the power to change things and here was this nobody getting in my way, no matter how many resources I had.

“So eventually I started to wonder what you could have done if you had my resources. I started to wonder if I could ever be sure I’d beaten you on my own merits with a divide like that between us.”

“And you got angrier,” I murmur.

“Damn right I got angrier,” Destien snaps. “I’d already begun to resent the unshakeable hold the grand magi have on us—fighting you helped me create a cover of being so obsessed with that goal that no one realized what I was actually doing. It’s not an accident that I’m the only one who went to the grand magi with a plan to handle the situation of Low Earth, because I have contacts all over the world that agreed to back my play. And I am still using you, because you’re going to help me force those old fools out. So that the next time there’s another you, I won’t have to wonder. They’ll have what you deserved.”

I am maybe staring at him a little as I feel my memories rearranging themselves with this information. I don’t have time to process this now though, because Destien finishes with:

“Which is why I’m telling you: don’t force Evram’s hand too soon. Not until we have enough leverage.”

Gods, if not now then when? What will be enough?

This is perhaps more classism than racism—though when it comes to spirit world, maybe species-ism is equivalent—but Toni Morrison is still right: the point of the distraction is to keep me from doing my work.

And part of the whole point is that it’s not just about me.

I look at the door to this tower, and consider all the bullshit I’ll have to fight through to even get to the top where Evram is. Unlike the other tower, this one has people on every level, all of them loyal to Evram and ready to defend him, every floor with its own spells to pass through like a video game boss.

You know what? Fuck that.

I’m not playing this game.

Never again.

“Thank you for levelling with me,” I tell Destien.

I reach out a hand, and Destien frowns. I nod at Nariel, and he, too, reaches out a hand.

“I won’t apologize for changing your plans,” I continue.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Destien snaps.

But then Nariel and I both grab one of his hands, including the one holding a wand.

“I meant now,” I clarify, as Nariel shoots us up into the air.

“Top of the turret, I assume?” Nariel asks.

I form lightning around my free hand, as Nariel forms shadow around his.

Obviously people have tried to reach the tower through the air before, but—

“What are you doing?” Destien demands. “I tell you all of that, and this is how—“

Together Nariel and I magically punch through the first barrier.

I reform my lightning fist. “They’ll get harder as we go up,” I tell Nariel.

He reforms his shadows with a grin. “I assumed they would.”

Destien growls, “Sierra—“

“Meritocracy isn’t good enough,” I interrupt him. “And I’m not going to walk on eggshells around Evram only to settle for less. You want leverage?” I grin at him as he casts a serious shield around us while cursing under his breath, more of a baring of the teeth honestly, as we punch through another layer. “You’ll have it.”

Nariel and I pull our weapons out for the last layer, and then I hold up a hand to stop Nariel’s ascent when we reach a window not yet at the top that’s opaque on the outside.

I knock.

A blast of magic rips out of the window, shattering it.

Nariel dodges, floating the group of us above it and then diving us down into the room.

It’s a round room that’s frankly a mess, because Evram only lets people close to him up here. It’s where he does the work he doesn’t want anyone else to know about, keeps the books he doesn’t want anyone else to access.

But I know what they are.

Evram is in the center, already casting again, expression furious.

I release Destien’s hand. “Thank you, I couldn’t remember if those windows open,” I say to Evram.

He activates his spells, but I’m ready.

My counterspell deactivates almost all of them.

There are some new ones, but Destien is rapidly handling those. He may not be quite the mage I am, but he was my rival for a reason, and he’s been in this tower a lot more recently than I have.

Nariel’s shadows surge toward Evram’s wand and then reel back like they’ve been slapped.

Evram grins savagely.

Guess he learned from the last time.

But I’ve learned from more than that.

I know which spell books Evram has confiscated, and I know why.

The spells are already written out in the books. All I have to do is run my magic through them.

And I summon spirits.

I haven’t done this in years—not since Evram confiscated those books, because he no longer trusted a Low Earther near them.

But there’s only one piece I need to add, and that’s the layer for the bargain I’m offering.

And I’m not surprised to find I have a whole lot of takers.

What I have done is effectively summoned a small army of spirits all the way from Dark Earth for Nariel to command.

He clearly has no trouble taking charge of them, because in short order a wave of creatures made of teeth and claws have surrounded Evram.

Evram is a grand magus, so absolutely he could cast them all away to prevent them from taking a bite out of him.

But not while I’m standing in front of him holding a wand to his throat.

He freezes, glaring at me.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” I say sweetly, “let’s get down to business.”

W e stand around Evram’s giant desk, because it’s not like Evram has chairs for all of us. Destien and I both habitually reach for a pile of papers on the desk, freeze, wince, and share a wry look with each other.

I guess we’ve both spent a lot of time sorting his bullshit for him.

After a moment, though, I keep going, because Evram isn’t stopping me. He’s sitting in a giant chair that makes him look small, scowling, but not talking.

Which means he’s going to let me see what he’s been working on.

Because he thinks maybe I’ll see something.

Pretty quickly, I can see that he’s been trying to figure out a way to shield against the plague. He’s tried... a lot of really brilliant things, actually, and part of me is relieved that he’s at least made a significant effort to protect people from the plague. He did donate his own angelic artifacts, too.

But it isn’t working.

Next to me, Nariel murmurs, “I didn’t think you summoned spirits.”

I look up, realizing suddenly he may think I lied to him. “I haven’t since the last time I was here, but I know how. I asked if anyone would be willing to assist the prince of Makora in intimidating an asshole grand magus and then feast as much as they can before going home.”

Nariel snort-laughs, while Evram turns purple.

Destien growls, “Sierra, what did I just say about absorbing High Earth magic?”

It takes me a second; that was like, two whole battles ago.

I shrug. “The spirits would otherwise come to Low Earth for magic, and right now I’m feeding High Earth magic too. It’ll all even out.” And to Evram I say, “The spirits can help us locate angelic magic.”

Evram lets out a crack of laughter. “You think I didn’t try that already? Summoning spirits limits their power and what they’re able to do in this world. Don’t think to educate your betters about a subject you never bothered to learn.”

He’s right, even if that’s his own fault.

“Of course it does.” I roll my eyes. “Gods forfend you not intentionally limit even the people who can help you.”

Nariel puts a hand on my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, because we have another way to bring spirits here unbound by your spells. When we’re done here—“ i.e. when we no longer need their threat to keep Evram from active hostility ”—we’ll make the arrangements.”

Nariel with the save. I squeeze his hand briefly in thanks, taking a breath.

If I let everything Evram says provoke me, we’ll never get out of here.

While I keep looking over all of Evram’s notes, Destien listens in as Nariel calmly explains why this idea that I did not think through in any way is actually a good one: Nariel can sense concentrations of power, yes, but High Earth is swimming in it. The spirits collectively can sort through it faster.

Why does Nariel even need to be here, then? Because he was once an angel, and he’ll be more able to deal with anything they’ve left behind—and make connections based on his knowledge the spirits may not.

Then why does Sierra need to be here at all then?

I freeze.

For once, he might have a point. Destien also knows this world and can guide Nariel—

My thoughts break off as I feel Nariel’s anger snap.

All at once, I know it’s because of me.

My feelings—and our bond.

His magic lashes out, shadows pouring off of him as he snaps his wings. “Sierra and I are a package deal,” he growls.

The growling shouldn’t be so sexy. But the territoriality...

I mean. Of course I would have a thing for someone actually wanting to keep me, that doesn’t come as a huge shock.

I do wonder how much of that is coming from the bond, though.

As if he feels that, too, Nariel whips around to glare at me, and his eyes are full black.

Oookay now I’m the calm one, somehow?

To Evram I say, “I invite you to remember that it took an outsider’s perspective to solve your previous angel problem.”

He sneers. “And now you’ve made yourself dependent on outsiders, because you can’t stand on your own strength.”

Oh come on. Yes, I have worried about depending too much on Nariel, but really? This, from him?

“I never kidnapped your civilian little sister, so I’m pretty comfortable looking myself in the mirror,” I drawl.

“And your inability to make hard decisions is why you’ll fail,” he tells me.

Okay, so much for being the calm one—

“Grand Magus—“ Destien starts to intervene.

“Failed like you have?” I shoot back. “Failing to contain the plague, failing to contain me, even with angelic power or countless prepared spells at your disposal.”

This time Destien rubs his temples on my account. “ Sierra .”

I wave him off. “You’re right. Enough about us. Let’s talk about the angels and how the fuck they managed this. How did you get Koshiel to intervene so quickly when I started acting in Low Earth? Had she been visiting High Earth already?”

Evram looks at me pityingly. “Of course not.”

Destien puts in with his old arrogance—and belatedly I realize this is an act , because he wants Evram to believe we’re still at odds—“The grand magi get gifts from the angels at their discretion, as rewards for things like their apprentices winning tournaments.”

“Yes, I know,” I say patiently. I used to be so proud of myself for winning those for him , because obviously they weren’t even trophies for me , and, ugh. “What I want to know is how Evram called Koshiel and got her interested in more active participation on his schedule.”

“Koshiel and I have developed a closer working relationship in recent years,” Evram informs me haughtily, then adds with a dirty look at Nariel, “It pays to be on their good side.”

“Oh, but it’s me who’s dependent on others’ strength?”

Destien holds up a hand to silence me. “Your streak of favor with the angels faded once you returned Sierra to Low Earth, and none of your subsequent apprentices lasted.”

Oh.

I’ve managed really well to not dwell on who took my place after I left, but—apparently no one could?

That’s... really satisfying. And that makes sense why Destien still had access to the Council of Grand Magi, then.

No one replaced me.

And in his pride, Evram wasn’t willing to settle for less, even if that meant—

“But you figured out a way to reverse that, didn’t you?” Destien continues. “What did you offer them instead?”

Clever of Destien, making Evram feel clever.

But all the grand magus says is, “Nothing important.”

I open my mouth, but Destien stomps on my foot.

He smiles. “I promise not to poach the idea from you, Grand Magus.”

“Ha! As if you could. You may have gotten yourself into a position of power, Destien, but it’s temporary. All of their power is. But mine is not.”

Something about the way he says that makes me frown. What does he have access to that’s not temporary—authority? But what—

It’s Nariel who says in a too-even voice, “You’ve been feeding them people.”

My stomach drops as it clicks. “Ohmygod. Batteries? Are you fucking serious right now?”

It’s all I can do not to hammer the smirk off the old man’s face.

Nariel’s face is carefully blank. “Does ‘batteries’ in this case mean what I think it does?”

“Yes,” Destien says with distaste. “I am confident it does.”

In Low Earth, only people capable of holding high quantities of magic hold any at all, because we draw it to ourselves despite the lower amount available.

In High Earth all humans have capacity for magic in varying degrees. But high capacity and ability to work spellwork are not the same thing. I have both, which is part of what makes me so dangerous.

But in High Earth, people with high magical capacity but low ability make money selling their magic. But the general opinion of people who have to sell their magic because they can’t use it themselves is similar to the derogatory way much of Low Earth views prostitution. And in High Earth, when you have low spellwork ability on your record, it’s like a disability. It limits you for all kinds of things—who will hire you, how much you can be paid—much like how disability laws in the US limit how much money people are allowed to save and still qualify for necessary assistance—basically forcing these people to serve as magical batteries because it’s the only option for them. In various places in High Earth they’re not allowed to speak for themselves.

It’s not quite slavery in a technical sense, but it’s very, very bad.

“Congratulations,” I snarl at Evram, “you, personally, taught the angels that all humans have no value and are disposable.”

The grand magus scoffs. “You’re being dramatic. They’re not the same as all people—“

“YES THEY ARE.”

He has finally reduced me to shouting.

There’s no way I can do what Destien suggested and string him along. I can’t let him feel like he’s controlling me again so he feels more confident in his power and pulls back from the angels. I can’t not make him an enemy, because he has made one of me.

“And before you ask about whether Koshiel could have turned the batteries—“

“You mean the people you sacrificed ?”

“They’re neither dead nor injured,” Evram snaps. “They were compensated for donating the one resource they have to offer, not that they asked, because they know their duty—“

“Or because they’d have expected you to tell them no and punish them for having the gall to expect it?”

He rolls his eyes. “I have personally interviewed all the batteries since the plague began and sent people to investigate their circumstances. None of them have received any angelic objects that could be responsible, and none of them have acted on the angels’ bidding. I realize you would like me to be an easy scapegoat for this, but—“

Nariel interrupts, “Did you confirm the angels didn’t affect their memories? Because when that deep in another being’s magic, it is trivially easy for an angel like Koshiel to force them to do their bidding and then forget.”

The grand magus pauses.

I abruptly turn away and stalk to the broken window, trying to take deep breaths and not explode. I can’t even see straight, and I’m not sure if it’s all feelings or if it’s also my bond-powered magic.

No wonder Evram didn’t see what the angelic rune in the plague spell meant. He was delivering them a personal treat! How could they hurt him?

This is the biggest possible “but I never thought the tigers would eat my face“ energy.

But predictably, instead of the consequences falling only on his shoulders, they’re cascading onto everyone who has no power to do anything about it.

That thought is the one that finally focuses my fury.

I do have the power to do something about it.

And by all the gods I am going to.

“Destien,” I say tightly.

He joins me at the window. “I can’t force a grand magus to let us talk to or examine the high-capacious people, so don’t bother asking,” he warns me. “I have authority over Low Earth matters, not High Earth.”

I’m glad that since I was last here they’ve arrived at a less shitty term for “batteries,” but every other part of that sentence makes me want to punch things. Goddammit.

“Can we ask them directly if they’d be willing?” I ask.

“Not without a fight.”

“Oh, believe me, I am so ready—“

”—a fight not with Evram,“ Destien clarifies. “Your demon can’t teleport to them without knowing where he’s going, correct? You won’t even get to them. You can probably guess that a lot of the people who would normally be here have abandoned the tower to go help in the city, so the grand magus has fewer people to do his direct bidding. But more than that have stayed with him on the theory that if anyone can save them, it’s him. They’re more desperate, which means they’re more... zealous. Which means you’d have a bloody business carving your way through people who, yes, may be contributing to the problem, but are just as much at its mercy. I don’t think you want that.”

God damm it . I clench my fists, almost incoherent with rage.

Nariel’s anger is a pulse against mine, which is weirdly soothing. He’s just as mad as I am, and there’s comfort in knowing I’m not alone in this.

So it’s Destien who brings the metaphorical ice water to tamp down the flames as he whispers in my ear, “People are on a precipice, and the balance of power is tipping from the grand magi, who are technically in charge but practically don’t do much, and the daily government. Let it tip , Sierra.”

Deep breaths.

I turn back to Evram, who is looking defiant but maybe not quite as smug.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s beginning to sink in for him that this is his own fault.

Though he still probably blames Nariel.

“Have you tracked all of the high-capacious people’s movements since you farmed them out to Koshiel?”

“What, only concerned with their supposed dignity when it’s convenient for you?” Evram mocks.

“No, I’m assuming you aren’t,” I say. “Did you?”

The grand magus eyes me. “Yes, of course I did. And you’re pragmatic enough to make use of that—what would you call it?”

“A violation of privacy.”

”—even though you theoretically disapprove.”

Yeah. I am.

I don’t like what that says about me, and I don’t answer him, letting him have that round.

Because for once, I will make him be useful to me.

Okay, I guess he’s been useful to me before—like when I stole his wand. But that wasn’t of his own volition.

“Will you share that information with Destien, please?” I ask.

Evram narrows his eyes.

I look at Nariel, but he’s already figured out what I’m working toward. “The spirits will search out high concentrations of power, and we’ll cross-reference what they find with the movements of the high-capacious.”

Evram is still watching me. “You’re not going to do it yourself?”

“I don’t think you would trust me with that information,” I say. “But you know Destien would kill me if he could, so you won’t have to worry that he’ll somehow help me look good with it.”

Evram turns his gaze to Destien. “Unless that serves his current goals.”

Well, maybe he isn’t totally oblivious.

He just only watches people he thinks might be able to cause him problems.

It is both validating and intensely sad, given my childhood dreams, that I’ve become one of them.

Destien says dryly, “My political fate is currently tied up in making sure Sierra does not take over High Earth, so I believe our interests align here.”

Ha. Smooth.

“Besides,” I say, “since I trust that Destien can at least handle administrative work, I have something more interesting for us to work on.”

Destien scowls at me, and it’s just barely enough to make me smile, if bittersweetly.

We’re working together for once.

Imagine if we’d always been.

Imagine if we didn’t have to waste effort pretending to dislike each other for the sake of an old man’s ego.

“Your shield concepts don’t look like they’ll bear immediate fruit, so I have an idea that will.”

The grand magus actually rolls his eyes at me. “You think you can defend against this, just like that? Do tell.”

“Not at all,” I say. “You’ve been out of combat situations for too long, grand magus, gotten too used to being the strongest person in any situation. Do you remember what you taught me to do if I couldn’t defend against an attack directly?”

It’s Nariel who answers, coming up to stand at my side. “You lay a trap.”

Evram narrows his eyes at me again. “You took me straight on in Low Earth.”

Don’t smile, don’t smile... “So I did.”

After a second, he scowls.

Heh.

“If you’re so clever, then what do you need me for? You think I’ll work with you after your endless disrespect?” Evram asks, waving his hand. “Go on. Impress me.”

Nariel and Destien actually both put hands on my arms, presumably to keep me from jumping across the desk and punching him.

But I can read Evram better than anyone else alive, and I know he’s interested. He just doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t know how to start.

But he also won’t be able to let himself be left out of the glory.

So I ask Destien stiffly if I can borrow him, and he magnanimously agrees and we snipe at each other a couple of times as we get working, and there’s that bittersweetness again, more pronounced.

Because both of these assholes can push me, but I don’t know how I will ever have this, this meeting of the minds on magical theory, in Low Earth. There’s so much I don’t know, but I’ll never have anyone there who can work at my level.

But now I have someone at my side who can actually meet me on a different level.

Nariel and I exchange a couple meaningful glances, and then he makes himself... not scarce, but not as prominent, allowing Evram to focus on me and Destien while Nariel gets started organizing the spirits and how they’ll coordinate with Destien.

And soon enough Evram can’t stop himself from interrupting us, and then it’s all three of us working together on a problem in fits of sarcastic competitive one-upmanship, because that’s the only way Evram knows how.

Maybe he did me a favor all those years ago. With some perspective, I learned to unravel all—or at least much—of his bullshit, both what he taught me on purpose, and what I’d absorbed from him.

He still shouldn’t have done it.

And with all three of us on the problem, and some tests with Nariel as our sample angel, it’s amazingly easy to set up a spell that will alert us if an angel sets foot in High Earth. It’s not quite like the spell in Low Earth to detect any magic at all, because we need to specify parameters, which is, like coding, the actual hard part—

But we do it.

At the end, the grand magus tells me, “I could have designed this spell without you.”

He’s an old man, watching himself be made irrelevant by the people he exploited.

I’m not sympathetic.

“But you didn’t,” I tell him.