The two royals observed Barzai with a bearing best reserved for the aftermath of head-on train collision. Somehow, for reasons that evaded Krahe, the faux-eidolon's manifestation seemed to be utterly repellant to the two; perhaps it was a sort of uncanny valley effect.

  “That's enough. Put... Put it away, quickly,” the King said. Krahe looked up at Barzai, and Barzai looked down at her, holding her gaze for a moment before he melted into her shadow once more. Only once Barzai was gone did the King continue, clearing his throat with a sound like distant artillery. “If we make proper use of F———a and that tar-stained thing, we can establish a Lesser Heterodox Cycle. The initial stress shan't be an issue with that obelisk of an astral body, and once the cycle settles the tension within it will only serve to render it more resilient. No weaknesses, the toll paid in advance, in accordance with the Wizard's ideals.”

  There was no mistaking the sudden left turn into seething bitterness that the King veered into at the end. Even the Queen saw fit to interject.

  “Should our esteemed guest agree to the terms,” she said. It sufficed to steer the King's thoughts back on track.

  “Ah, right. Will you, god-eater? The terms of the ancient accord cannot be overwritten, but, should both sides agree, and should the scales remain in balance, the exact fulfillment of the accord may be adjusted even to this extent. The scales are in your favour, hosting Y——kh and F———a shall benefit us both, but you more so in the short term, thus leaving the scales in balance.”

  “Two Greater Eidolons, in place of the Lesser Eidolons I had expected. Far be it for me to presume a catch, but I do not recall possessing the means to make of myself a sufficient vessel for such beings,” Krahe said.

  “This is of no concern. We shall carry out the rites of binding at this very moment, should you agree to it. The stone shall serve as the core for Y——kh’s anchor, and I shall carve the anchor for F———a from my own flesh," the King said, conveniently gesturing to his finger, still sitting on the scales. A new finger had already grown in its place. Of course, he had intended this from the start. "I shall spare no effort to ensure that you remain a suitable vessel for those two for as long as conceivably possible.”

  “Is there a price to be paid on my end? Memories lost, a curse?” Krahe asked, allowing some doubt to creep into her voice. That alone was enough to distort her surroundings for a moment. She knew well enough that if something seemed too good to be true it probably was.

  “We do not deal in the business of such exchanges — the royal We, that is. Should you wish to trade, you needst venture below, into the Grey Fog, where those of us who have carved away their own “faces” dwell. As for this exchange, the scales remain in balance because you have already paid in advance by becoming a suitable vessel, and to be forthright, a suitable punishment for Y——kh.”

  “There is just one issue, then — neither of these spirits’ names translate into any language I understand. Considering that Barzai is an exception, how is this to be resolved?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That would normally be a matter to be resolved between you and your contractors, but he merits no such courtesy, and would likely attempt to interfere with the naming besides.”

  “It would be best to place the shackle of a Contract Name around his neck sooner, rather than later.”

  “The simplest method is thus: Focus on the meaning of his True Name and assign it sounds, or even the name of something or someone from your world, so long as it fits. Know that the mere utterance of a True Name carries within it the essence of the mentioned — we can speak of him freely, for we are his progenitors, but in speaking it, we bring here an echo of him. When you settle on a suitable Contract Name, a form representative of that name, one influenced by the meaning behind it, shall take shape, and thereafter we shall summon him into that vessel in full. Are you ready to proceed?”

  Krahe nodded.

  “Y——kh. Simply raise your hand in the gesture of the hollow spire, and I shall repeat it again.”

  The Gesture of the Hollow Spire was the same gesture Yazata used, wherein one formed a ring with the thumb and little finger while holding the others straight.

  She was certain now, there was definitely an entity within her world’s mythos that matched. It was from some obscure short story. As she dwelt on it, her immediate surroundings changed — black pillars rose up around her and Tar bubbled up around her feet, overtaking a full third of the throne room. The entity in the story wasn’t quite the same as this eidolon, possessing a far stronger bent of sexual depravity and defilement, and for this reason, Krahe shifted the sounds around until she had a name that truly fit.

  The fictional entity was Y’golonac, the Defiler. A towering, headless, corpulent thing with mouths on its hands. At the mere thought, a perfect representation of that description rose up from the tar, headless, and yet nearly three meters tall, laden with hanging flesh and lard, and having lamprey-like mouths in its crooked palms. Its feet were masses of gnarled toes in the approximate shape of those of an elephant. It seemed at first wrought of tar, but at second look, it was merely coated in it shoulder to toe. This eidolon, even if it shared the trait of maws on its hands, could be bent to a different manifestation, a form suited for its desire to rampage and carry out savage violence.

  Y’garokh, the Biter.

  At the instant of decision, the pillars pulsed with red light and tendrils swarmed up from the tar to consume the shape of Y’golonac. They tore it limb from limb, and corpulent meat sloughed off to give way to pallid, translucent-white flesh stretched taut over a frame of darkened metal. Cables, tubes, and spurs of this dark metal protruded from within the figure’s back and joints, and their surface resembled the gleaming-black stone of sacrificial altars more than it did steel.

  Y’garokh’s vessel-to-be possessed enormous, clawed hands. They had six digits each, with four fingers and two thumbs on either side, and their palms bore visible slits along the horizontal axis, drawing a line that separated the fingers and the thumbs. These skin-slits extended to the wrists. Its hands in their entirety split open to expose the jagged teeth and writhing tongues within. The mouths each had an additional row of upper teeth, and their tongues possessed ridges of teeth of their own along their outer perimeters, creating second, inner “jaws” of a sort.

  Still, Krahe wasn’t satisfied, and neither of her royal hosts moved to interrupt her as she continued changing the name. The name fit the being as it was. She dwelt on the name Zor’Aguhastra, on what it meant, how it related to what the city was. Moreover, she dwelt on how she might best rein in Y——kh’s tendencies. When handling a feral gene-hound, the offspring of ancient bioweapons, one would use every kind of restraint and reward mechanism from the straightforward to the cybernetic and chemical, but there was one more crucial element that separated those gene-hounds who were mere weapons to those who could be socialized and serve for decades. Something to protect them from their own self-destructive ferocity. Armor, regenerative treatments, anything to make sure they survived their own behavior for long enough to train it out of them.

  Krahe would chain and armor Y——kh until he learned to behave.

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