“Of course,” Inga said, eyes lighting up. “Opal Sunset Sauce.” She patted her leather-bound book. “Professor Nekhbet described it as one of the wonders of the culinary world.”
Logan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course, Nekhbet’s stupid book would actually have something useful in it. “Yeah, well it’s made from Opal Truffles. And I managed to talk Chef Treegee”—he ran the academy’s kitchen staff with a steady hand—“into whipping up a special batch just for Professor Hellgazer. I wrote her a little note, letting her know how much I would appreciate her help getting us into the simulation dungeon. I told her I would appreciate it so much, in fact, that I’d keep her flush with Opal Truffles for the rest of the school year.”
Inga fluttered her wings. “Logan, you’re simply brilliant!”
He nodded. He appreciated the kind words. And best of all? Inga didn’t think his fungal attic home was gross. In fact, she seemed at home there.
Logan’s plan worked perfectly.
The next day, their DCG’s vibrated with an incoming message, marked urgent. There, in a letter written by Shadowcroft, was an announcement. The Tartarucha Cells would be open for extended hours from 8 a.m. to midnight.
And who was signed up in the eleven-p.m. slot on every Monday night? Logan/Inga.
On Tuesdays, they’d feel the lack of sleep, but that didn’t matter. Logan and Inga were going to build their very first dungeon together. He couldn’t wait.
Chapter Seventeen
THAT MONDAY NIGHT, Logan and Inga met in the undercroft lobby at the bottom of the Stairwell of True Seeing. Logan had brought the shield and dagger he’d won from the Threshing dungeon. The chipped dagger would have a hard time cutting butter, but it was better than nothing. The shield had much more promise.
After a long discussion, Logan had chosen Braincap for his Level-Two Proto-Spore Culture. Now that he knew he was teaming up with another dungeon core, he needed to commit fully to the idea.
Both he and Inga stood with the library behind them, facing the Tartarucha Cells. The big dungeon doors flew open. The guy in the slot before them was spit out onto the floor, and the doors clanged shut.
The turtle fountain had definite opinions on the subject. “I told you, Alphonse, that you don’t get a second longer. Please do keep track of your time better. Spitting you out makes me uncomfortable.”
Alphonse looked like your classic Egyptian mummy, with a gold headdress and a body wrapped in bandages. He smelled like dust, rot, and really old cinnamon. He bent his bandaged head. “Sorry, guys.” He slunk away up the Stairwell of True Seeing. His reflection showed a tall elf with the pointiest of ears wearing the leafiest of clothes.
Logan approached the fountain. “Hey, turtle guy, we’re here for our eleven o’clock slot. We good?”
The stone turtle coughed on some leftover water. “You are good, Logan and Inga. Though this is strange. Only one of you can take control of the dungeon at any one time. You know that, right?”
“Mr. Turtle,” Inga said in her crisp voice. “That is our business, if you don’t mind. We know what we’re doing.”
“Just don’t make me spit you out,” the turtle said. “I do enough of that all day long with this fountain gig.” He stopped talking to let water gush from his mouth and into the basin.
Logan and Inga pushed through the huge doors into a plain room of chiseled gray rock. A beaten bronze pedestal, sturdy but not pretty, stood in the center of the generic dungeon room.
Logan found himself nervous again. Talking about joining his core with Inga’s was one thing. Actually doing it was another story altogether.
Again, Inga felt his anxiety. “It’s fine, Logan. I’ve already seen your Guardian Form Matrix. If anyone should be nervous, it should be me. I’ve learned about your guardian form from Inkboon’s book. You don’t know much about me. I fear what you’ll see. And what you’ll think of me.”
Logan could relate. “I won’t pry into your past, Inga. Don’t worry.”
They approached the pedestal. Logan wondered aloud, “So these are the Tartarucha Cells. But it’s a single room. I wonder how that works.”
Inga’s antennae were curled up against her head. Her wings were flat against her back. “We’ll find out soon enough, I imagine. But first to the matter at hand.” She was practically quivering. “Well,” she said after a moment, “don’t keep me in suspense. Please, let’s get this first part over with. The anticipation is positively killing me.”
Logan just hoped that he didn’t actually kill her. He had no idea how Symbiosis worked or what they would experience once joined. There was only one way to find out, though. He took a deep breath, steadying himself and steeling his nerves, then released the Symbiosis spores from his gills. They glowed whitely, and Inga leaned in to breathe the dust in.
Her eyes swelled, glossy and distant.
His Guardian Core Matrix popped up of its own accord and a message flashed bright and bold.
Inga Thosa Therian has accepted Symbiotic Bonding!
Notice: As the Infecting Agent, you alone can terminate the Symbiotic bond; in addition, you will receive 10% of all Apothos cultivated by Inga Thosa Therian from this point forward. Bonding initiating in 3... 2... 1...
Inga doubled over, clenching her stomach in pain as tiny crystalline mushrooms sprouted along her shoulders, while what looked like a living crystal crown formed around her head, fungal roots digging down.
A heartbeat later, Logan got flashes of memories that didn’t belong to him. He saw a vast library with shelves several hundred feet high. Inga, with big eyes, feathers, and a beak, flew to retrieve books and to reshelve titles. She’d been the Grand Archivist of the Eastern Aerie Archive, and seeing the mountaintop library in all its splendor took Logan’s breath away. The other Okitori were perched in the center on hanging platforms, like a collection of nerdy owl people. Inga would fly to give them their books, and everyone looked at her with such love and admiration.
A second later, he saw Inga flying through a snowstorm, on her way to a cave set in the side of a rocky cliff, miles above the ground. A collection of tall, older owls stood on steel bars set into the rock wall. This was some kind of test for her, but then Logan felt himself shoved away.
Inga’s disembodied voice hit his brain. <That’s enough, Logan. I don’t want to remember the day of my Stringentia Strigiformes Exam. I don’t ever want to recall that. So, please, try not to invade my privacy.>
Logan had been curious, but he hadn’t wanted to see her memories. <Sorry, Inga. I’m not here for that.>
He blinked his eyes. <Did I just talk to you?>
<Yes, we can communicate in this fashion very effectively.> The moth girl was covered in a fine white powder, which made her sneeze. He saw her sneeze, and he felt it at the same time.
He removed his core gem and let it float onto the pedestal. He got that lightheaded feeling again, but it was better this time, because Inga’s gem joined his to drift lazily over the pedestal.
With all his practice with the Boundless Wheel, he could sense the Apothos in both gems joining together through a thin tether. She had so much more Apothos than him!