Sikras grinned. “I do love a good gamble.”
“I’ve heard,” Theodore grumbled. “In my quest to learn about your power’s limits, I discovered much about your legacy. I’ll admit, I was hesitant to challenge a man known to have bested Death herself, but the more time we spend in one another’s company, Mr. Nikabod, the more convinced I am that your victory over the Grim Reaper was dumb luck rather than skill.”
The room echoed with Sikras’s laugh. “Well, obviously. You can’t win in a game of skill against Death. She’s got all that ancient knowledge and what not.”
Helspira whirled on Sikras, one brow raised. “Wait, wait, wait.That’show you got your power? You tricked Death incarnate?”
“No, no, of course not. That’s just how I got her scythe. Gaining the power of Enos was purely accidental.”
Her frazzled expression begged for answers.
Sikras shrugged. “Look, I wasn’ttryingto harness the power of Enos. Vessik was. He’s the one who did all the reading, and the studying, and the text interpretation from wizards and necromancers past to find the sacred catacombs that allegedly held the consecrated object that opened the portal to Enos. I was only in those damned catacombs for emotional support and protection. Everything else that happened was completely unintentional.”
Helspira wrinkled her nose. “I havesomany questions.”
“I was just trying to be a good friend,” Sikras said. “I just wanted to help him.” Old memories chipped at the foundation of his charisma, and Sikras’s posture sagged. All Vessik had ever wanted was the power to help people, and when it couldn’t be found in the gods’ favor or their wizardry apprenticeship, he had sought it elsewhere. And Sikras had let him down. Catastrophically.
Helspira tilted her head. “What happened then? How did you end up becoming the Cat’s Eye’s host?”
“Well, I was pretty tired from plundering the catacombs with him in search of this obscure, quote/unquote sacred object he kept talking about, so I sat down to rest, to take a breather, and to enjoy some cheese. All kinds of archaic trash was down there: tables, swords, sarcophagi, candleholders, pottery, sconces, rotting crates, human remains—”
“Sikras.”
“Right, sorry. So I cleared off some space on an old table, grabbed one of the spoons I found atop it, and set off to eat my cheese.”
Helspira’s expression soured. “You used a spoon to eat cheese?”
“I’d been clawing my way through centuries-old cobwebs, mold, and gods know what else,” he said, pointing. “I wasn’t about to eat that cheese with my bare hands.”
“So you ate it with a dusty spoon?”
“Lesser of two evils, trust me. Anyway, turns out the spoon was the sacred object that parted the barrier between Siaphara and Enos. Not an enchanted blade or a chalice. A fucking spoon.” He glimpsed Theodore. “I’d give it to you for your collection of rare artifacts, but I’ll be honest, it got mixed in with my other cutlery when I brought it home, and now I don’t know which is which.”
Theodore sneered. “So long as the Cat’s Eye has chosen your body as its host, that spoon is useless. I’d sooner die than taint my collection with your trinket.”
“And?” Helspira balked, wide eyed. “What happened next?”
“Well, next thing I knew, I was in Enos. Face to face with the Cat’s Eye, the spirit of the afterlife itself.” Sikras still recalled the piercing light, the glowing being who seemed to gawk at him with a thousand eyes despite being too bright to properly make out whether it had eyes at all. Given its title, his mind had, perhaps uncreatively, imagined a giant cat, and as soon as he had, the Cat’s Eye took shape in the form of a towering, ethereal feline. “I tried to tell it that Vessik was the one who wanted to merge with it, but ...”
Helspira’s expression softened. “But what?”
A ripple of discomfort rattled through Sikras’s chest. “The Cat’s Eye said taking on its power was dangerous. That only a skilled caster could handle the merging process, and if they didn’t, they were dead. I love Vessik, loved Vessik, but ...” His fingers curled into fists. “I wanted to believe he could do it. Wanted to believe he could handle the fusion, but ... I couldn’t risk him failing like he did with our wizardry apprenticeship, or the gods, and Iknewhe’d try if I didn’t. So I told the Cat’s Eye I’d be its new host.”
“Oh.” Helspira gaze dropped. “He must’ve been furious. Is that what sent him over the edge?”
“No,” Sikras whispered, fixating on a knot in Theodore’s table. “Vessik never got angry at anyone but himself. After I merged with the Cat’s Eye”—and blood and bone, was that the most painful experience of his life—“Death appeared to me before I left Enos. Said she was sick of necromancers and liches and diavoli always using peoples’ souls like pawns in a game and ruining her garden. She wanted me to relinquish the Cat’s Eye, but the only way to do that is to die nine times. I proposed a challenge; we’d play a game. If I won, I got her scythe. If she won, she could take a life, one by one.”
“You gambled your lives away for ascythe?” squeaked Helspira’s voice.
“Hey, I love that scythe. Had I ever bore children, that scythe would be their honorary grandparent. When I die, that scythe will inherit my estate.”
“You mean your debt,” Benjamin quipped.
“How in the world did you win?” Helspira asked.
“I knew I couldn’t win in a game of skill, so I challenged her to a game of chance and got very, very lucky.” Sikras raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Unfortunately, even returning with a really neat scythe was little comfort to Vessik. He tried so hard to hide his disappointment, but I could see it. I stole his last chance at being whatever it is he thought he needed to be.”
Theodore snorted. “You should rejoice that he failed. Can you imagine if you’d succeeded in aiding a madman in his quest for near limitless power? Given your friendship with Vessik, I’m rather concerned someone likeyouhas access to such things. The company we keep says an awful lot about a man.”
