Lindon had spent enough time with Eithan that he could read the man’s many different smiles. This one was mocking, but Lindon thought it was self-directed. Ozmanthus wasn’t looking down on Lindon, but rather on himself.
“I would be grateful for your guidance,” Lindon said humbly.
Ozmanthus lifted his eyebrows. “Even if I could teach you, I couldn’t do it so quickly. If you don’t have the authority to restore your friend, and you don’t trust anyone to do so on your behalf…well then, I suppose you’ll have to fix him the hard way.”
Thin, almost imperceptible strands of madra erupted from Ozmanthus. The Arelius bloodline ability. That invisible web passed through Dross, making him shudder, and a powerful spiritual sense shook Lindon’s spirit with its scan.
“These are complicated repairs,” Ozmanthus said. “Are you ready?”
Lindon hurriedly expanded Dross again. This was more of a way to view his internal mechanisms than an actual change to his size, but functionally it was little different. The room was hidden by an intricate nest of twisting purple loops. Some resembled the organs of a living creature, while others were scripted wheels, and still others looked like rings of stars or a system of madra channels.
Ozmanthus began hurling orders without waiting for Lindon, even using terminology for the different parts that Lindon had never heard before. The echo didn’t explain himself, but fortunately Lindon pieced together enough clues to keep up.
The instructions came rapidly for over an hour, and Lindon couldn’t afford a single second’s lapse in concentration. He used dream aura to stimulate some areas and slow others. He created temporary bypasses with pure madra, dammed up the substance of Dross’ spirit here, empowered it there, and linked previously unrelated systems together.
At first, Lindon was merely following directions. He could understand the theory behind each step Ozmanthus gave him, but the larger picture was hidden to him. He just had to trust that Eithan’s former self was really trying to help him.
But as time went on, Lindon began to grasp the reasoning behind his actions. When Dross had overexerted himself, he had exhausted his own substance. When he was repaired, new connections were made, while old ones had been left destroyed or repurposed.
Now, Lindon could see the picture Ozmanthus was having him paint, and he had to admit it was elegant. They were making the best use of pathways both new and old, creating an efficiency to Dross’ functions that the spirit had never seen.
With that understanding, Lindon became faster. He outpaced Ozmanthus’ instructions, patching up useful channels and clearing out useless ones.
Ozmanthus tilted his head. “Well, well, and here I thought the only noteworthy thing about you was your willpower. You have a keen grasp of the basics. Did I teach you that?”
“Dross helped me learn,” Lindon said.
“Then I look forward to seeing what he can do for you now. His functions are beyond anything normally possible in Cradle, and this will not add more, but the scale of his performance should be even greater. He’s quite a bit more efficient.”
Lindon could see that already. Madra was moving through Dross much faster than before. If there were a human equivalent to what they were giving Dross, it would be like the effects of advancement on the body. As though they were reinforcing his bones, refreshing his organs, strengthening his muscles, and scrubbing his arteries clean.
Lindon made the last few links with a light heart. At last, he could help. Not only would Dross be the way he was before, he’d be better than ever.
With excitement, Lindon finished the last of the changes and compressed Dross back into his soul. The spirit spun in place for a moment, taking stock of his own changes.
Dross could have spoken at any point during this process, but he had remained silent. Lindon hadn’t caught a single stray thought. That was unusual normally, but not so much during operations like this one. Lindon had essentially been tinkering with Dross’ brain, after all.
A ball of leathery purple skin appeared in front of Lindon’s face and slowly opened its one eye. Dross was still a purple so dark it bordered on black, rather than the brighter purple of his original self, but that might not be a bad sign. He could appear as any color he wanted, after all; he only favored purple because dream aura tended to be purple.
That didn’t necessarily mean something had gone wrong.
[If I am taken apart and put back together, am I the same?] Dross whispered. [Do you die when you sleep, and another person wakes up with your memories, thinking they are you?] He laughed wildly.