(She’s a glorified lamplighter,) Teral thought in disgust. Aradin would have protested, except he could sense his Guide’s sub-thoughts even before he expressed them. (She has so much more power in her, and there are ways to extend the locus powers directly to these wardings, yet they have her wasting her time recharging them manually? Gods Above! There had better be a damned good reason for this horrible mess, prophecy or no, or I’ll have to go find and slap some sense into the spirit that left this place in such a mismanaged mess!)
(I’m sure they’ve long since moved on to the Light of the Afterlife, and maybe even been reassigned by now,) his Host thought dryly. (But if they’re still in the Dark, give them a second slap from me.)
(I’ll do that,) Teral promised. (Now, if you’re going to follow through on staying here and helping out, why don’t you ask her what’s happening?)
Nodding, Aradin moved up to join Saleria, rather than hanging back. “I think I know what you’re doing, but I’d like to make sure I have it right. You’re emptying a bit of the gathered energies into those ward-crystals, right?”
“Yes. It’s just a simple mnemonic spell—I don’t even have to chant it verbally anymore—and it’s very much like opening a spout to add a dribble of cream to a cup of Aian tea. It can take seven or eight seconds to fill the main orb, then a single second more for each pip-crystal on the wall,” Saleria told him. “So a total of twenty seconds per orb . . . thirty seconds total, to get from one to the next,” she added, lifting the crystal away from the orb and taking several swift strides forward. “It takes longer to do evening rounds than morning, and I—”
She stopped mid-sentence, hearing a chime in her ear.
Aradin peered at her in concern. “And you . . . what? Is something wrong?”
“Bollocks!” she cursed, frowning in the direction of the Bower. “That’s the communications chime. But who would be calling me in the middle of evening rounds?” Torn, she glanced at the wall with the unlit orb just beyond the brightly glowing crystal on her staff, and the sunset-silhouetted wickerwork of the Bower in the distance. If she hurried, she’d get there within a few minutes, but the outer wards would never get done before the sun set at this rate. “Bollocks! Why do they have to call now?”
Aradin made up her mind for her. Holding out his staff, he waited until she absently clasped it, then grasped the brightly lit one in her other hand. “What are the mnemonic words to open the flow of energies?”
She blinked at him. For a moment, they stood there, each with a hand on a staff. For a moment, the dutiful side of her brain argued in a tantrumlike way that this was her job, and not the responsibility of some foreign priest-mage. But that part of her brain sounded an awful lot like High Prelate Nestine, high-pitched, nasally, whiny, and obstructive. Bollocks to that! she thought, and mentally shoved her instinctive, internal objections aside.
“The mnemonic is joula-joula-drip-drop-dribble.” She blushed a little as she recited it, and added quickly, “I didn’t come up with it. The previous Keeper, Jonder, didn’t, either, nor did he know who had. It’s just been that way for a very long time, is all. Joula-joula-drip-drop-dribble, and you picture it acting like a teapot spout in a thin stream, with your thumb on a reverse plunger style stopper.”
Taking the staff, he lifted it to the orb and concentrated on the visualization, reciting the words. He could feel the press of the energy, and wrapped his mind carefully, cautiously around the orb as an extra safety measure. “Joula-joula-drip-drop-dribble . . .”
Light spooled from the faceted crystal to the polished orb in a misty stream. It soaked in, taking about ten or so heartbeats under the extra restriction, then slowly started spreading to the smaller gems embedded in the wall. Saleria watched anxiously, still hearing the chime of the communications stream in the distance. When the last needed gem was filled, he stopped murmuring the chant and pulled the staff away.
“I do this, and I keep an eye out for anything that might attack, yes?” he asked her. “I think I can manage it from here.”
She nodded. “Yes, exactly. Well done—thank you! I’ll be back before you know it!”
Nodding in return, he watched her turn and sprint back the way they had come, seeking the best path back to the Bower. (I hope she’ll be alright.)
(She should be. Mind on your work,) Teral advised him. (You’ve a job to do.)
“I know what I’ve promised to do,” he murmured out loud, and crossed to the next orb. “Keep your share of our eyes and ears open while I get this spell just right.”