*Saetan? Saetan!* From the other side of the Realm, her voice came to him as a broken whisper.

*Witch-child!* He poured his strength into that tenuous link.

*Saetan, please, I have to…I need…*

*Fight, witch-child, fight! You have the strength!*

*I need…don’t know how to…Saetan, please.*

Even the Black had limits. Grinding his teeth, Saetan swore as his long nails cut his palms and drew blood. If he lost her now…No. He wouldn’t lose her! No matter what he had to do, he’d find a way to send her what she needed.

But this link between them was spun out so fine that anything might snap it, and most of her attention was focused elsewhere. If the link broke, he wouldn’t be able to span the Realm and find her again. Holding his end of it was draining the Black Jewel at a tremendous rate. He didn’t want to think about what it had cost her to reach him in Hell. If he could use someone as a transfer point, if he could braid his strength with another’s for a minute…Cassandra? Too far. If he diverted any of his strength to search, he might lose Jaenelle altogether.

But he needed another’s strength!

And it was there. Wary, angry, intent. Another mind on the Black psychic thread, turned toward the west, toward Chaillot.

Another male.

Saetan froze. Only one other male wore the Black Jewels.

*Who are you?* It was a deep, rich, cultured voice with a rough, seductive edge to it. A dangerous voice.

What could he say? What did he dare say to this son he’d loved for a few short years before he’d been forced to walk away from him? There was no time to settle things between them. Not now. So he chose the title that hadn’t been used in Terreille in 1, 700 years. *I’m the High Priest of the Hourglass.*

A quiver passed between them. A kind of wary recognition that wasn’t quite recognition. Which meant Daemon had heard the title somewhere but couldn’t name the man who held it.

Saetan took a deep breath. *I need your strength to hold this link.*

A long silence. *Why?*

Saetan ground his teeth, not daring to let his thoughts stray. *I can’t give her the knowledge she needs without amplifying the link, and if she doesn’t get the knowledge, she may be destroyed.* Even without a full link between them, he felt Daemon weighing his words.

Suddenly a stream of raw, barely controlled Black power rushed toward him as Daemon said, *Take what you need.*

Saetan tapped into Daemon’s strength, ruthlessly draining it as he sent a knife-sharp thought toward Chaillot. *Lady!*

*Help…* Such desperation in that word.

*Take what you need.* Words of Protocol, of service, of surrender.

Saetan threw open his inner barriers, giving her access to everything he knew, everything he was. He sank to his knees and grabbed his head, sure his skull would shatter from the pain as Jaenelle slammed into him and rummaged through his mind as if she were opening cupboards and flinging their contents onto the floor until she found what she wanted. It only took a moment. It felt like forever. Then she withdrew, and the link with her faded.