The Way of the Soul by Stuart Jaffe Page A

through the Voice, “Please, everyone, sit.”
    As Malja pulled up a chair, Tommy made a specific frowning face — a face that represented Harskill. Malja shook her head. “We didn’t find him. Not exactly.” She then explained all that had happened.
    “Interesting,” the Artisoll said through her interpreter.
    Malja wondered how the Voice knew what to say. The Artisoll did not look at him or in any way appear to communicate with him. Malja assumed that the Artisoll’s magic let him hear her thoughts, but that assumption did not ease the oddity of it all.
    “It is almost certain now that Harskill is leading you towards something.”
    “Towards him, I’m sure,” Malja said. “He’s had an unhealthy obsession with me since we first met.”
    Tommy raised an eyebrow.
    Malja pointed at him. “I am not obsessed with him. I simply wanted to use him to find out about the people I came from. I no longer care about that. The few Gate I’ve met were less than impressive. But I can’t allow Harskill to go around hurting world upon world. You know that’s why we left Corlin in the first place.”
    Tommy raised his hands in a placating gesture.
    “Sorry,” she said.
    The Artisoll smiled gently. “It’s okay,” her interpreter said. “Your work is important — to us and to the many worlds out there. We should start at once trying to locate Harskill’s next location.”
    “No,” Malja said. “I need you this time. This Reon is not like the Gate I’ve met before. Harskill is gathering people, inexperienced people, for some purpose. He’s building an army and I need an army of my own. But any soldiers you could provide won’t be able to cross through portals without being incinerated. Only those with a do-kha can pass through a portal. Or someone as powerful as yourself.”
    The Artisoll frowned. “I cannot help you this way. All the magic within this world resides within me. If I leave for another world, I take this world’s magic with me. Should anything happen to me, then this world would lose everything. It would lose all its power. It would be vulnerable from without such as Gate, and certainly from within such as any of those fools in the throne room. I cannot be the cause of such chaos.”
    Tommy snapped to his feet and tapped his chest twice.
    “No,” Malja and the Voice said simultaneously.
    Tommy tapped his chest again.
    Malja placed a firm grip on his shoulder. “You’ve sacrificed enough for my adventures. You’re a husband now, and maybe someday soon you’ll be a father.” Tommy and the Artisoll blushed. Malja continued, “I was wrong to ask for the Artisoll to join me, and I would be even more wrong to accept you coming along as well. Your time as a warrior between worlds is over.”
    As Malja spoke, she saw Tommy’s expression darken. He continued to tap his chest. When he finished, he curled his fingers into a fist and pounded the table. Malja expected the Artisoll’s interpreter to speak up, but he remained silent — whatever the Artisoll had to say, she would not let him speak for her.
    “You don’t have to do this,” Malja said. “I don’t want you to come along.”
    Tommy’s shoulders shook as if he laughed at her. Then he pointed to the door. Malja looked at the Artisoll. She nodded.
    Malja didn’t want to leave, not at such a crucial moment, but she could see the exchange between Tommy and the Artisoll. In their eyes, in their jaws, even in the way they held their bodies — neither one needed to speak. When the Voice stood and exited the room, Malja knew she had no choice. She turned around and walked out.
    She stormed down the hall and through the throne room. Attendants and the various dignitaries dodged out of the way as she barreled out of the massive room. She hurried back to the waiting room and Fawbry.
    One look at Malja as she burst into the room and Fawbry laughed. “Guess Tommy wants to come along.”
    “He shouldn’t even be thinking about it.”
    Fawbry