Daedalus lay in the lavender early morning light of his palace's western garden and inhaled through his nose. For a count of four, humid air from his sauna flowed into his lungs.
He exhaled twice as long, lips pursed as he pushed the air from his chest, calm and unhurried.
Shoulders sinking into the bamboo mat beneath him as relaxation deepened, he drew another breath. As he allowed the air to expand his belly, the scent of peaches and damp soil filled his nose. He released the breath again, his exhalation a soft hiss.
"Very good, Basilicus." Peritia's voice flowed over him, as sweet and soothing as a bubbling brook. "I believe you're ready to try a more advanced approach this morn. Now, I want you to continue to focus on your breath, but begin to allow yourself to visualize the garden. Domus Onychini is your home. You played in the Onyx Palace's garden as a child. You know it like your own body. See its blossoms, its shrubs, and vines."
Daedalus let his imagination wander the familiar landscape. In his mind, his feet trod barefoot through the dewy grass of one of the manicured greens. Tiered rows of glowing blue blossoms gleamed on the terrace to his right. To his left, birdsong echoed from fruit-laden branches in the peach orchard.
He meandered through the trees to the vine-bordered arbor beyond, skimming his fingertips over its shaded bench as he passed. Near the back rose the gabled roof of his red cedar sauna. He stepped within its warm interior.
"Feel the steam rising from the weeping wall," Peritia guided in her hushed voice. "Do you smell the mineral water bubbling up from the hot spring below?"
"Yes," he said, his voice thick and a thousand miles away. The humid air smelled of creosote bushes and ozone. Of Rain.
"Allow the scented steam to brush your cheek and gather as dew on your skin. Breathe in the mist. Let it travel down to your lungs and circulate within you."
He visualized the steam without effort. It drifted in lazy tendrils about him, diffuse and undefined. Drawing the mist to him, he encouraged the vapor to condense and collect on him. In him. Thickening.
"This water is your blood," Peritia said. "This air is your breath. Now, inhale, Basilicus, and exhale. In and out, rapidly. Stir and heat the mists. Imagine clouds gathering inside you, all around you. Clouds of your blood and your breath."
He did as instructed, increasing his breath rate as his tutors taught him since early childhood. In his mind's eye, the mists—stormy crimson and bronze now—condensed, churned, and blossomed about him, cloaking his body in clouds and filling his veins with thunderheads.
Peritia's pleased voice washed over him. "Good, Basilicus. Now, don't let them grow too hot or swift. Nice and easy. You're not running a race. You don't have a fever. Slow your breathing. Let your heart rate come down a little. Good. Now, do you feel the sweat welling on your skin? Beading?"
"I... do." A trickle of moisture trailed down his forehead to his ear.
"Release it now, Basilicus. Let it cool you. There, that feels pleasant, right?"
It did. The exercise left his whole body flushed and drenched as he broke into a sweat, but now a refreshing breeze drew the uncomfortable heat away.
Thunder rumbled, and something pattered against wood above him. Daedalus's eyes snapped open.
He smiled wearily up into Peritia's warm bronze face as his Trellis expert set aside a broad palm frond and helped him sit.
"What happens if I ever develop a fever?" he asked, accepting the towel she offered. Prometus held numerous illnesses at bay, but not all. "Mother always just said not to catch one." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The gesture was not dignified, Comitas always said. "And to focus on other things. But—"
The comely, plump Empowered chuckled. "That is indeed a correct way to describe the technique, Basilicus, if a bit simplistic."
He glanced at her, doubtful. "So that is really it? Just do not fall ill? Distract myself with other things?" He dabbed at his forehead with the towel.
"Indeed, Basilicus." The Empowered worldholder rose from the bench where she had been sitting and reached for his paenula, which hung from a hook on the wall.
He forced himself to stand still as she pulled the garment over his head and adjusted the draping fabric over his tunica until the hem brushed the cedar floor. A blush crept over his cheeks as he allowed her to clothe him like a child, but Comitas said he must not dress himself any longer. It was, again, not dignified.
"When you enter Solitude, the isolation will help prevent illnesses," Peritia continued. She stepped back and looked him over with a critical eye, then nodded. "Fewer chances for exposure, you understand."
He did. He did not like the idea that he must hide away, but he understood. If poor health might compromise the Trellis, he must take measures to preserve his well-being at any cost. Countless lives depended on his ability to stay healthy and maintain his self-control.
"And yes, should you become ill, as will happen at times despite our best efforts, you must strive extra hard to concentrate on your visualizations, Basilicus. That will allow you to avoid negative feedback between your body and the Trellis." The Empowered offered a lopsided smile. "We don't want the post-Brightening showers to become hurricanes or tornadoes, now do we?"
He did not snort. Of course not. He just breathed out a bit louder than usual. "Focus extra hard on not creating natural disasters. Got it."
Peritia laughed. "It will make more sense to you in time, Basilicus."
They stepped together out of the sauna and into the peach orchard, where the post-Brightening Rain he created pattered down.
She opened an umbrella and extended it to him, then held another over her own head. "Try fasting today until after the post-Dimming Rain shower. A minor discomfort like hunger will help you practice fine-tuning your visualization and concentration."
He nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Prome."
"It is my honor and duty to serve, Basilicus. I will return to you at Dimming."
They parted ways.
Astricus rose from the bench where he sat waiting. The Empowered flashed a proud grin as he placed a respectful hand over his gold-banded ruby laurel. "That was well done, Basilicus."
Daedalus offered his foster father a small smile in return. "Was it? I suppose it must be since I managed not to drown the world."
The Empowered starholder shook his head. "I don't think you need to fear that. I am no worldholder myself, let alone Princeps, but I've seen Brightening and the post-Brightening showers all my life. Both went perfectly as far as I could tell."
"I am glad." Daedalus nibbled his lip, then caught himself and stopped. He must always project confidence. "The Rains are harder than Brightening and Dimming. I am not sure why. I am relieved some other gifts of the Trellis just... happen."
"Happen?"
He nodded. "Like, as long as I am alive and well, the Trellis just does some things. Blocks solar flares and the Devouring Eyes, for instance. Mother used to describe it as like being with child. She said the Trellis is like a babe dependent on its mother's body but still wont to grow and move on its own."
"So you're pregnant with the Trellis?"
"Oh hush," he said as his cheeks heated.
Astricus chuckled and nodded toward the palace. Domus Onychini's western onyx spire and stained-glass windows peeked through the peach trees, and they walked that way. "It does help me understand, though. Thank you for the description, Basilicus, however... interesting."
The snort escaped before Daedalus could stop it.
Astricus laughed. "Don't let Comitas hear you do that."
At the reminder of his protocol handler, Daedalus grimaced. He glanced down the sloping footpath to the palace wall. "So, are they down there?" he asked, voice tightening.
His foster father sobered as well, smile falling. "Yes. I checked in with your father before Brightening. They're still allowed to attend the coronation, at least."
"How are they taking it?" He remained shocked Comitas banished his family from his presence for two weeks. All except Astricus and Cercitis, who Comitas claimed understood how to "comport themselves with proper decorum and respect."
The Empowered sighed. "They're not pleased, Basilicus. Your father in particular. I had to prevent Comitas from having him expelled from the palace grounds. And Epileus and Gemma are disappointed. They need to return to the circuit tomorrow and hoped to spend more time with you before they head to the waystation. But they'll get over it. This is temporary." He shrugged. "And perhaps it will teach them to behave better in the future."
"I hope so. I am glad Comitas let you stay, though."
"I'm glad too, Basilicus." Astricus gave the guards at the garden door a polite nod as the two of them stepped within.
Down the corridor, the muffled roar of the crowd waiting in his western odeon temple drifted toward Daedalus. His heart began to pound in his chest.
His foster father snapped a finger, and a Pyrrhaei servant bustled near, bent halfway at the waist in a deep bow. Astricus handed the man Daedalus's umbrella, then his own, and turned to his foster son with an assessing gaze. "You should wear this paenula for the coronation instead of the lavender. The color does your laurel better justice." He fixed Daedalus with a flat, pointed gaze.
The pale-peach paenula did a better job of hiding the flickers of violet prometus in his black laurel, Astricus meant. The evidence of conjugal impurity and the threat of a weakening of the royal worldholder lineage was not secret, but Comitas preferred not to draw attention to it.
"I wish I could, but alas..." He cast his foster father an expectant glance.
"Protocol," they said in unison.
Astricus grinned. "All right. Well, let's get you dressed, Basilicus. One only gets to be crowned Princeps Worldholder once. Best not to be late to your own coronation."
Daedalus's heart pounded faster. "Best not," he said, his voice strained.
The Trellis already made him Princeps Worldholder. Still, the idea of donning the Onyx Crown and taking his rightful place on the Throne of Solitude terrified him. His inheritance of the Trellis made him a sorcerer. A far more powerful sorcerer than he had been before, to be sure, but still essentially a worldholder, as he had been his whole life.
But the coronation? Accepting the Onyx Crown would make him a ruler.