I present my left wrist.
The commander regards the action in surprise. “You have done this before. How is that possible?”
I give him my expressionless stare, the one Damin always attempts to nudge me out of. “There is much you do not yet know, Commander. When I know your identity, I will tell you.” I wiggle my wrist. “Test me.”
He frowns before taking my arm firmly and pressing the tuning fork against my pulse. As he proceeds to count, I study the engraving in the handle of the device. A triskelion. On the count of five, he lifts the fork and holds it up, careful to contain his grip to the handle only. His attention focuses on the orb that finishes the handle’s design, and thus my attention centres there also.
After a further count to five, the orb transforms from silvery metal into a gentle green glow. It is familiar to me; it is as the orb Horin is ever deploying. This one, of course, is not free to move.
“Satisfied?” I murmur.
“I have the distinct impression you have seen this before,” Commander Gennirin states as he lowers the device. He watches the glow fade.
Drawing my wrist to my chest, I say, “I have indeed, but that orb is autonomous.”
His gaze lifts to mine. He does not say a word.
“His name is Enris Makar,” I reveal.
The man’s entire being undergoes transformation after my words. His jaw slackens before a massive smile blooms upon his face. He loses the rigid military stance soldiers unconsciously adopt and leans in to peer into my eyes. “Lord Makar is alive?”
Blinking, I can only nod. He has astonished me.
“By the stars,” he murmurs. “Then we can win this.” The commander swivels to his soldiers and hollers, “These are Ilfin! They are allies!”