Caen used Soul-sense for the next seven hours in every way he knew how to.

  He furled and unfurled his existence at different intensities. He Mimicked Chasma’s affinities and abilities. He formed bridges between Chasma, The Seventh Guile, and himself. He split his existence into several portions. He communicated to Sh’kteiro’s soul, then Hshnol’s, then The Seventh Guile’s.

  The so-called mark became apparent to the shadeling’s senses without any rhyme or reason. Sometimes, Caen exhibited a spike of the shadeling’s originator’s essence while sending impressions to Chasma, or sometimes while Mimicking an affinity or just scanning his own soul structure.

  It was terrifying.

  All the while, two portions of his mind continuously scoured his soul, hoping to locate any indicators of this mark. After his Contract affinity had risen out of abjection a week ago, Soul-sense had become more complex. And while his soul structure no longer overwhelmed him, there was still a whole lot of new information to parse.

  Caen was unsuccessful in identifying the mark in his soul structure and had to rely on The Seventh Guile’s senses.

  Two things consistently caused the mark to flare within Caen: scanning for and locating his fourth bloodline.

  For a while, Caen Mimicked resilience, temporarily stripping himself of all his bloodlines. The Seventh Guile could no longer sense any spikes of his originator's essence in Caen.

  However, the moment Caen reverted his soul, the shadeling could sporadically sense the mark again.

  “That means it’s a temporary solution, at best,” Uncle Teiro said, after Caen had related his findings to him.

  Caen nodded, pondering the situation. He felt fairly confident that there should be a representation of that mark in his soul, but there was still so much about soul structures that he didn’t understand. He was certainly out of his depth. And while he fully intended to get to the bottom of this, he had no idea how long that might take.

  “This place is strange,” The Seventh Guile spoke up. Behind him, his two tails didn’t just sway; they billowed and swirled like ink in water.

  Caen could feel… uneasiness from the shadeling’s soul, as he was currently connected to him. “What do you mean?”

  “The darkness here is both holistic and… not. I feel as though I am out in the open and can even sense a host of shadows tethered to me.”

  “Reflections, not shadows,” Caen explained.

  “There is no difference,” said The Seventh Guile. “I find it disturbing.”

  Caen rubbed his face. “We are done here, anyway. Could you mask me, please?”

  “Done.”

  Caen had asked the shadeling to mask and unmask him many times over the past hours, and each time, Caen had been unable to locate any effects in his soul structure. It was no different now.

  “Now, shall we talk about the arrangement?” the shadeling asked.

  “We will. If you find it more comfortable, you can enter into my shadow.”

  The shadeling immediately flowed into the glass beneath Caen. It didn’t quite look like a shadow, but Uncle Teiro had told him months ago that some shadows were invisible. To his speculon, shadows within the dark mirror-room resembled a slight discoloration.

  “Hshnol, I wanted to try one last thing with Uncle Vai’s help. A revisitation.”

  Hshnol adjusted his spectacles. “It would certainly pose a challenge to transport the Seventh Guile That Twists Itself into the Deep Astral. But there are more difficulties than that.” The Percipient paused, seeming as though he were trying to phrase his words properly.

  “I won’t be capable of parsing The Seventh Guile’s memories, will I?” Caen asked, having already suspected as much.

  “Indeed,” Hshnol said.

  “This shadeling appears to touch on principles even I struggle to discern,” Sh’kteiro added.

  The Seventh Guile’s soul structure possessed a richness that Sh’kteiro, Hshnol, and even Sormot lacked. This was certainly odd, because the shadeling’s soul didn’t even feel weightier than Anomis’s had in the Patronage trials.

  On his wake day, Caen’s loved ones had gifted him a fused memory sequence involving the severely watered-down memories of a peak Percipient.

  “How long did it take to parse Elder Gev’s memories?” Caen asked.

  “Nearly two years,” Hshnol answered.

  Caen let out a sigh. “I’m ready to form a contract with The Seventh Guile.”

  Hshnol nodded once, and they began to construct the terms.

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  It was a simple arrangement. In return for masking Caen from other shadelings, Caen would be obligated to help The Seventh Guile acquire more tails.

  The terms would be fulfilled when two conditions were met: when the shadeling acquired two extra tails, and when Caen found a way to mask himself permanently.

  In Caen’s bid to mask himself, the shadeling was required to assist Caen in whatever way he knew how, as long as this didn’t endanger the shadeling. And under no circumstances was the shadeling to sabotage Caen’s goals.

  In The Seventh Guile’s bid to gain more tails, Caen was required to assist the shadeling in combat and strategy, but only to such an extent that Caen was not endangered. Caen was also restricted from sabotaging the shadeling’s goals in any way.

  Neither party was entitled to receive help or assistance on issues that did not directly relate to the contents of this contract.

  There were a few other supplementary terms. Honesty at all times, or failing that, refusal to speak. Habitation etiquette within Caen’s shadow. And an oath of silence on The Seventh Guile’s part to not share or reveal any information whatsoever about Caen without his consent.

  “What secrets do you have?” the shadeling’s whispers echoed around the mirror-room. He was still lurking in Caen’s shadow.

  “Nothing to worry yourself about,” Caen replied.

  If in a year, the primary conditions of the magical agreement had not been fulfilled, the parties would reassess the contract.

  “I agree to these terms,” said The Seventh Guile.

  “As do I,” Caen said.

  The contract tightened around his soul, binding him firmly to its terms.

  ***

  Caen exited the mirror-room with the Percipients. It was almost 10 in the morning.

  There were so many cords of connection linking him to pretty much every item in the house.

  His family members had fallen asleep in the living room. Only Zeris and Aunt Vensha were awake, chuckling quietly.

  They both turned to him as they descended the stairs.

  Zeris quirked an eyebrow. “How did it go?” she asked quietly.

  “We entered a contract,” he said.

  “Same deal?” Vensha asked.

  He nodded. “He’s in my shadow right now.”

  “Ancestors,” Zeris swore. “What a day it’s been.”

  “Where are your bodyguards?” Caen asked her.

  She snorted. “They’re staying at the generalhouse.”

  Hshnol walked towards Uncle Vai’s stone coffin and picked it up carefully. “I will be taking my leave now. High Priest, Vensha, Zeris, Ar’Caen.”

  Sh’kteiro and Vensha nodded politely. Zeris said, “Bye, Hshnol.”

  “Thank you so much for all your help today, Hshnol,” Caen said with a bow. “I’ll be in to see Uncle Vai later today.”

  The man nodded once and departed with the coffin.

  “I’ll be leaving as well,” Sh’kteiro said. “A depute might be waiting for me at the Drenlin temple.”

  “I’ll follow you back,” Caen said. He needed to feed Chasma.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Vensha said, standing up from the sofa. “Sormot said to tell you to meet her at the barn. I wanted to find out how everything went before turning in.”

  “Will do. Go get some rest, Aunt Vensha.”

  She wrapped him in a hug, then left for her room.

  ***

  Caen parted ways with his uncle at the Drenlin train station. White puffy clouds hung overhead, concealing the sun, but it was still a very warm morning.

  He took a rickshaw to Eastway and walked the rest of the distance to the barn.

  He saw a trail of smoke in the distance, which was accompanied by a burning smell.

  Off to the side was a large but neatly arranged pile of two-tailed shadeling corpses.

  Sormot was there by the barn with her fellow mercenaries, reclining on a comfortable-looking chair while one of the mercenaries was charring what looked like seafood on an open grill.

  Sormot had taken off her dark silver helmet but was still in the matching armor. She was a very dark-skinned woman with thick braided hair. One of her eyes was pure green.

  “Ar’Caen, was it?” the Percipient asked.

  “Yes, Mage,” Caen said respectfully.

  She let out a guffaw, and one of the nearby mercenaries chuckled.

  “Just Sormot is fine,” she said.

  One of the mercenaries gestured at the shadeling corpses. “We’ll leave you to figure out how to move all that.”

  “Thank you,” Caen said with a polite nod.

  “Don’t mention it, lad.”

  He walked up to the pile of corpses, and just before he Mimicked Chasma’s spirit receptor, The Seventh Guile spoke up.

  “I would like to feast on Subterfuge Of The Third Slant That Contorts Itself This Way And That.”

  Caen considered that for a moment. “Only Subterfuge. Leave the other corpses.”

  He’d have preferred to feed all these corpses to Chasma, but he was going to be needing the shadeling’s help later with something he’d been hoping to try.

  The Seventh Guile flowed out of his shadow, darted towards the largest corpse in the pile, and simply drew it into himself before returning to Caen’s shadow.

  Hshnol had sworn the mercenaries to oaths of silence.

  “Hungry?” Caen asked his fragment.

  Chasma expressed regard and expanded to encompass the entire pile of corpses.

  “Father of Tet!” a mercenary cried. “What the fuck is that?”

  “My Parthran fragment.”

  The mercenary who was working at the grill gave Caen an unconvinced look.

  Sormot was still watching Caen. “I saw you use some interestin’ tricks with fire back there. I don’t know what arrangements you have with Vai, but he doesn’t use up favors on just anyone. If you’re ever lookin’ to cause some mayhem, don’t be shy to reach out. We could always use more troublemakers.”

  “Thank you, Sormot, I’ll keep that in mind.”