Aysun dropped his voice-box back onto the desk with a grunt of irritation. Three days he had been trying to reach her, and his wife hadn't accepted the call.
She had forgotten to carry it around with her, he supposed. It lay somewhere in the house, out of hearing so she never knew when he was trying to get through. Or the box was broken. That was a possibility.
Or perhaps she had actively decided not to answer. She was avoiding him for some reason. His irritation grew greater at the mere thought.
All of these conclusions he drew and steadfastly clung to in favour of the notion that something had gone wrong. He was of a protective nature, and frequently over the years he'd been gripped with fear when his wife had been late or absent and he'd become convinced that some catastrophe had befallen her.
She'd laughed at him for it. Every time.
He gave the call one last try, listening sadly as it beeped on without Ynara's beloved voice cutting in. At last he set the voice box aside and left the room, sore at heart.
Through the window he could see Orillin in the garden with Graaf. The orboe had never left, sticking to the tousle-headed boy with endearing stubbornness. If you could call it endearing. The creature was as enormous as ever and looked just as unfriendly to Aysun's eye. He still had to restrain himself from rushing to the boy's aid when his slight form disappeared under Graaf's huge, shaggy body. But always the maddening boy emerged unscathed, laughing his irrepressible laugh, tumbling on with the orboe as if he hadn't a care in the world.
He would lose that carefree nature as he grew older. When he had a daughter out in the worlds somewhere alone, and a wife who refused to answer his calls, he would know about cares.
Aysun grouched his way back to the main room of Rheas's house. He collected a mug of beer for himself, refusing to acknowledge the grey-haired man in the rocking chair. But when he turned to leave, he only made it halfway across the room before Rheas spoke.
'No answer again, I take it.'
'What do you know of it?' He glowered heavily at his abominable parent, fiercely glad to have a target for his irritation.
'Were you planning to do something about it, or will you settle for stamping about my house all day?'
'Like what?' Aysun demanded. 'I'm stuck here for the present, playing nurse-maid to that child out there.'
Rheas smirked. 'I could do that without your help.'
'Ynara asked it of me.'
Rheas shook his head. 'You're a pushover.'
Aysun's fists clenched. 'Shut up, old man. You forfeited your right to criticise my doings long ago.'
Rheas shrugged. 'I was going to suggest a solution, but if that's the way you feel about it I'll stay out of it.'
'Oh, for the love of...' Aysun massaged his temples. Never was anybody cursed with such an irritating, reprehensible, aggravating excuse for a sire. 'Fine, make your suggestion.'
Rheas's eyes glinted. 'It means accessing those summoner abilities you've been busy denying, my boy. Still interested?'
Aysun took a long breath. 'All right. Yes.'
'Good. You haven't forgotten Prink, I'm sure.'
Prink? Aysun didn't recognise the name, but he did recognise the colourful bundle of fur and wings that zipped past his nose.
'Odd name.'
'Your daughter's choice, not mine. Prink will take you as a passenger for a short time, if you're good and don't snap at him.'
Aysun frowned harder than ever. 'A passenger? You're talking nonsense.'
'If I am, it's remarkably effective nonsense. I've kept a close eye on our Llandry for years by this very method. And before you object, I'm the reason she survived that fight. I got her out, and that was due to the help of Prink here sticking to your girl like a burr. Still want to argue?'
Aysun shook his head, mute.
'Right. You're going to have to do something pretty uncharacteristic for you. You're going to have to forget yourself. For the next hour, you and Prink are the same. Now reach out to him. Not with your eyes or your ears; use those summoner senses you pretend you don't have.'
This came hard. Used to brutal denial of this traitorous, dangerous part of himself, Aysun struggled with the command to open himself to it.
In the end, though, it wasn't that hard. The very strength of his summoner nature was part of the fear. It rested just below the surface of his conscious mind, always threatening to break free of his ruthless control. No matter how hard he tried to be an ordinary engineer, magicless and safe, he had never managed it.
He felt Prink's mind like the touch of a feather on his skin. The little beast was enjoying the sensation of air across its wings, welcoming the room's draughts like caresses.
'Good,' Rheas approved. 'We don't have time to muck about with this so I'm going to help you out. All right?'
Aysun didn't have time to reply before a mental blow struck him. He reeled in confusion as his befuddled mind divided between defending itself, fighting back and understanding what had happened.
Juicy.
The thought flitted across his own mind, but he knew it wasn't his. Then he tasted something crunchy in his mouth - his mouth that remained, he was certain, empty - and a hot, sharp liquid ran over his tongue. He crunched the insect down, swallowing it with satisfaction. His wings beat frantically multiple times per second, but he didn't need to concentrate on that; they took care of their own rhythm.
And alongside all this he was still Aysun, a tall human with two arms and two legs and a deeply confused brain.
'Talk to me,' came Rheas's voice. Looking his way, Aysun saw him through Prink's eyes: enormous, hairy in the wrong places and imposing. But, oddly enough, the irilapter felt a pulse of affection for the man.
'Hello?' Aysun's lips formed the word clearly; for a moment he'd been afraid he wouldn't be able to manage speech anymore.
'Good. Getting the hang of it?'
'Mhm.' Aysun's attention was only half on the conversation. The rest of his brain experienced Prink's world with fascination.
He was almost jolted out of Prink's consciousness when Rheas opened his mouth and bellowed a single word. 'MAGS!'
'Yes, dear.' The little woman's answering cry came merrily down the stairs and she herself soon followed.
'Gate,' Rheas barked. 'Quickly.' He pointed at Prink.
'Right,' said Mags placidly. She worked fast. Almost immediately a gate opened right in front of Prink's long proboscis and, with a small cry of indignation, the irilapter was sucked into it.
Aysun tumbled along, his soul protesting vehemently as the two parts of his mind were spread across two worlds. He was Aysun, standing in Rheas's parlour before the fire, and he was also Prink, tumbling out of control through the Sanfaer house in Waeverleyne.
If Prink didn't get control of himself soon, they were going to crash into a wall.
Use those bloody wings! he roared.
Shout less. Prink arrested his headlong flight inches before the far wall of Aysun's kitchen. He banked sharply and flew back into the middle of the room, his mind ablaze with indignation.
'Sorry,' Aysun said. He wasn't sure whether his physical lips moved as he said it; was he speaking the words aloud, or only to Prink? No way to tell.
He forgot Prink when he noticed the state of the kitchen. The first thing Prink's surprisingly impressive vision centred on was a stack of washing-up lying next to the beautiful big, stone sink he had built for Ynara. The woman was obsessive about leaving the kitchen tidy when she went to bed, but those dishes looked as though they'd been there for longer than a few hours.
He nudged Prink to make a circuit of the room, noting that the surfaces were gathering dust - something else Ynara hated. A cup rested on the table, full of an unidentifiable liquid that was covered in a layer of mould.
They made a tour of the rest of the house, and what he saw heightened his anxiety beyond anything he'd known since Llandry was carried home, her small body a mess of blood. Everywhere were signs that Ynara hadn't been home in a while. He knew her habits so well, he couldn't believe that she'd simply become sloppy in the time since he'd left.
Something big had to have happened. Something bad, to have kept her away from her home for days at a time, without warning him first and without taking his voice box device with her.
Back to the portal, he told Prink. The irilapter dithered, attracted by some passing fragrance. Merciless, he used his anger to drive the creature on, back to the kitchen, through the gate that still hovered in the air.
Back in Rheas's house, he wrenched his consciousness free of Prink's, ignoring the flash of pain that sliced through his skull. He crossed to the chair in which Rheas still sat, his fists instinctively clenching. He felt like striking the old man.
'What was that about?'
Rheas had the cheek to offer him an innocent look in response. 'What?'
'That was completely unnecessary. I could have gone through the gate myself and achieved the same. What game are you playing?'
Rheas chuckled. 'Couldn't miss an opportunity to teach you a lesson, boy.'
'What lesson?'
Rheas sighed. 'Apparently it failed.'
'And how in the blazes is it possible to open a gate from here right into my kitchen?' Sorcs couldn't simply pick a location to gate to, that he knew. A gate opening in the Uppers would appear in the corresponding location in the adjacent realm. That meant... 'You've been living practically on top of our house all these years? And you never said anything? Never even told me you were alive?'
'We've discussed all this.' Rheas didn't look at his son.
Aysun struggled to keep his temper in check. He could beat his father senseless, and he felt so sorely tempted, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself afterwards.
The old man wasn't worth it.
'Something's wrong,' he said instead. 'I have to get home.'
'You were planning to tell us, weren't you Ays? Not thinking of ditching your old buddies again, surely?' Rufin wandered in, slouching as if he didn't know the meaning of the word urgency.
'Someone's got to stay with that kid.' Aysun jerked his thumb at the door, beyond which Orillin still frolicked with Graaf.
'I'm not a nursery maid,' Rufin growled. 'I'm perishing with boredom up here. What did you need me for anyway?'
'You're a crack shot, Ruf.'
'Sure,' he grinned. 'Soon as I have anything to fire at, that is.'
'Fine,' Aysun snapped. 'I don't have time for this. Eyas will stay. You and me are going back.'
Rufin touched two fingers to his forehead in a facetious salute. 'Cap'n.'