It wasn’t anything so clear in intent as an incantation. Just a rough brush of a waking mind over rusty self-discipline, fumbling to attune itself to the soul of steel.
Amon rested within his new Vessel, reluctantly satisfied with the magoi he’d gained this day. His King might not have nearly the innate power he would have preferred, but the blazing desert heat made up for it. A little.
Magi, why did you choose this brat?
Though at least the youngster was trying to bring his knife into the flow of his energies. It was a start.
Hmph. Just trying won’t keep him alive against the Abnormalities of the world.
Still. He was young. As Aladdin was young, in body if not in soul. Perhaps the magi had wanted not a King in the full flush of his power, but a boy who could grow with him?
It… could be an advantage, if used properly, Amon thought grudgingly. Aladdin has a magi’s power, but not Solomon’s wisdom to use it. Yet. And Alibaba was wary enough to survive my dungeon. Aladdin could use that caution.
He still would have preferred a proper King. But whoever had closed the Road between the worlds had cast young Aladdin into who knew what danger. And if what Amon read of Alibaba Saluja’s dreams and rukh were accurate, while the soul who now held his contract might be weak in magoi, he cared about Aladdin as fiercely as any mortal friend could.
It will be difficult, reaching through his dreams enough to prod him into searching for our young magi. Amon sighed. And it will take time.
Well. Even the longest journey had to start with the first step. It was time to begin instructing his King.
“Sacred servant of austerity and decorum….”
Alibaba blinked his eyes open, and clamped his lips shut, eyeing the knife he’d raised in one last salute to the foe. The back of his neck was prickling, the night seemed eerily quiet, and for a moment steel hadn’t looked right at all. What the heck was that?