“Blood?” Ziana asked, a little confused.
“Yes, blood,” Heydar replied, a razor-sharp knife laid out beside his Skrizzit tools. “I will need to mix your blood with the pigment before I apply it. It is a rare and secret technique known to the Bohdzee Guard of the Nimenni. A means to enhance one’s fighting power and prowess by sharing the strength of a comrade’s runes. It is intended to increase one’s combat abilities, but it should work for the Infala.”
Ziana looked at Dorrin, both of them stark naked for the process, then back to Heydar. “I’m sorry, did you say,should?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Darla chimed in from a comfy seat along the wall. She wasn’t an active participant, but there was no way she was going to miss this show.
Ziana, however, had questions. “Hang on. You’ve done this before, right?”
“The Bohdzee process? Yes, many times.”
“Oh, good. I?—”
“But what you have asked for? No.”
“No?”
He chuckled, picking up the knife. “Friend, I do not believeanyonein a thousand systems has. Now, shall we?”
Dorrin stepped up, offering his palm. Heydar sliced, collecting the blood in a small vessel. “Your turn,” he said, urging Ziana forward. “The blade is very sharp. It will not hurt much.”
“That’s what they all say,” she shot back nervously, but despite her concerns, she offered up her hand as well.
He made his slice and collected her blood too. And as he’d promised, with such a sharp knife it really didn’t hurt more than an odd sting.
“Now for the fun part,” Heydar said, drawing out a small jar of a faintly glowing cream. He took out a dollop and put it in a small vessel. He then uncapped the incredibly powerful glowing pigment collected from the Chancellor’s collection. It was extraordinary stuff and stronger than any he’d ever worked with before. And for that reason he was hopeful this might actually work, though it was only confidence he showed the couple awaiting their runes.
He poured a few drops in the ointment. “A healing ointment, unique to my people. Hands, please.”
They extended their bleeding palms. Ziana had been about to ask why do the cliché thing and slice a palm when you could just use a syringe to take blood, but now she saw why. There was a reason for this particular wound.
Heydar spread the ointment on both of their hands then bound them together, palm to palm, their blood, pigment, and ointment pressed tightly and secured. He studied his handiwork. Satisfied, had them both lay down next to each other.
“Now we begin.”
He worked slowly,taking his time as he applied an entirely new Infala rune over their existing ones. Each had their own non-matching Infala, so he would have to find a way to incorporate those disparate elements in a manner that would allow the new pigment to dictate that their runes would do. If he did everything just right, the powerful pigment would absorb and change what was already there. And then? Then the two would be bound forever.
At least, that was the intention.
After a few hours spent going back and forth between them he finally stopped, surveying his work with a satisfied nod. “It is complete.”
“What’s that feeling? And why is it doing that?” Ziana asked, looking down at her new rune.
It was glowing, tingling and buzzing in her skin in a way she’d never felt from any of her other runes. This was different. Not necessarily bad, but odd.
“The healing ointment is entering your bloodstreams, for one,” Heydar informed her. “And on top of that, your Infalas are deciding if they will accept the form they have been given or reject it outright. They are very powerful runes, and they always change to match their mate of their own accord. But this is forced, and with very powerful pigment at that. I am hopeful it will work, but we will have to wait and see.”
“How long?” Dorrin inquired.
“You will know by morning,” he replied, cleaning and putting away his tools, pocketing the leftover pigment for a rainy day.
“You two should really go get some food and hit the sack,” Darla suggested. “This is gonna kick your ass for a little bit.”
Ziana nodded and slid on a robe, one arm free as her and her lover’s hands were bound once more, but this time not by restraints, but by the bonds of love.
“And then?” she asked.
Darla shrugged. “And then we’ll see if this worked.”
