'
She turned and pointed toward a long, altar-like projection of polished
stone that jutted unnaturally from the worn granite behind it. Several
feet out from its base, ringed by a circle of stones, burned a small
fire. This in turn cast dancing images of light and shadow back upon an
oval mirror, tinted blue-black and mounted securely into the wall above
the slab. In truth they were neither altar nor mirror, but the girl
could think of no other way to explain them.
Not that it mattered. Her words were entirely lost upon the young
outcast. He had listened intently, seeing that she wished to
communicate, but could make no sense of the seemingly infinite barrage
of varying sounds and expressions. He shook his head and looked at her
ruefully, an expression that betrayed more of himself than he knew.
Realizing that her words meant nothing to him, she decided to summon the
Spirit (for so he called himself), to see if His words held true.
Helping Kalus to his feet, she led him slowly and gingerly toward the
altar.
He offered no resistance. Instructing him to remain behind her, she
stepped carefully past the flame and ascended the three steps leading to
the polished projection of stone. Approaching the mirror she hesitated,
as if afraid or unsure, then reached out over the stone and touched her
fingers lightly to the glass, activating the machine.
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