His inner mind informed him that he was conscious, sluggish, drugged? Or simply beaten. Rohjer's surface mind began to take in information and sensations. Stale recycled air and an inaudible barely felt thrum meant clearly that he traveled on a starship.

No Aamankhotep. No Osahara nearby waiting to give Rohjer a drop of blood, refreshment upon first rising for the day. The alarm of not feeling them in the otherwhere, jolted Rohjer's five-mind into deep mentation. Surface mind cataloged the details of his environment as received through his physical senses. Stale recycled air, uncomfortable pad underneath him, hum of ship systems, artificial light. Inner mind searched desperately for anyone, anyone at all in the otherwhere. Mid-mind pushed forth memories: the days with the shamans, Erak warm and asleep beside him. Then, something happened. Deep mind, where survival instinct resided tried to protect him from shock by clouding over the memories of his mid-mind. Shakti mind, Rohjer's spiritual essence, his true whole self, slowed time to one resounding tick after each tock.

He reached up with his fingers to confirm what he already knew. His shakti could reach out not at all. He was bound by a collar of nullstone. His fingertips itched as they ran around it, looking for the clasp, for any imperfection in its smoothness where he could catch a hold of the damned thing and rip it off his neck.

“Only the space constrained by the nullstone.”

It was a memory pushed forward by his mid-mind, randomly Rohjer thought at first. The ground car was sumptuously appointed. High champagne satin covered ceiling, richly polished wooden accents, plush overstuffed couches. Himself, Aamankhotep, Ahmose and that Blood Priest boy he renamed Shamasundar. Why were they talking about nullstone? Oh yes, Rohjer was fascinated how Aamankhotep and his grandmother could peacefully sit locked within a room made of it – incarcerated in a cage, to Rohjer – and work their clairvoyance, seeing the future and the past either in candle flame or in their own drops of blood as they dispersed in a bowl of water.

“Only the space constrained by the nullstone.” Ahmose had said it. In a correcting tone even. At the time, Rohjer dismissed at as useless because all of everything in space was constrained. He could not reach, with his shakti, anything outside his own body. But of course, he could still manipulate shakti within his body, within the constraint of the nullstone collar. Rohjer felt as if he had just fully understood a very basic Tattva Sanga shakti tenant that his Master had tried to teach him for a very long time. Why did he always beat his head against the straight on obstacle? Why not try some completely different solution? Living with Ardjianis had helped him learn sideways thinking, he laughed quietly to himself.

Days came and went. His captors, four rough-looking scarred humans or humanoids, outlaws obviously, took turns at running the ship and watching over him. He got a bowl of hot grain and a cup of reconstituted milk, or something that once thought it might have liked to be milk, each day along with all the water he wanted at the tiny sink in his cell. They would not answer any questions, but enjoyed taunting him, especially the rougher looking pair that wore thick clothing with a rancid scent and brandished their weapons whenever they stalked by his cell.

To pass the time Rohjer kept his consciousness immersed within his deep mind and shakti mind. Externally he barely breathed, sitting calmly on the floor in a relaxed badda koe na sana position, soles touching in front, his legs like butterfly wings. He had so very much to assimilate from his earliest days meeting and experiencing the powerful ka blessed rulers of Ardjia to drowning in the planet mind of Taproot. His feelings for Aamankhotep eclipsed his feelings for everyone else. How could he love Zahra? He often caught himself lacking in the proper respect for his spiritual godbrothers, Adepts Sirocco and Daya, because Aamankhotep had given him so many mundane titles and duties. The Were Jaguar King demanded so much of him, so much of his time, he hardly had a moment for anyone else.

It was not his fault that Daya hesitated over every decision until Rohjer or Aamankhotep snapped an order at him. He could have stayed on Parare, but he chose to play the role of Rohjer's servant, Rohjer's surrendered blood slave. Rohjer could never think of him as only that. Daya had the rank of Adept, equal to Rohjer's Master Fohwaldu. Rohjer felt he should be serving Daya, but he wasn't. The mission, the peaceful entrance of Ardjia into the Identic, required the reverse.

What of his own student? The boy Erak? He had to work on basic reading, writing, and numbers with the priests. The boy could see, feel, and speak in the otherwhere. He knew it existed. Yet, no matter how much effort the boy put in, he would never have the talent to be more than Rohjer's valet. In time, perhaps he would push Erak toward some career.

Rohjer went through a series of isolation exercises, flexing and relaxing each muscle in his body. Next he added his internal ka to the exercise, holding the tension for long periods. At mealtime he was starved enough to ask for a second helping. Unable to draw on the outside universe for shakti energy, he quickly burned through his own. No more life giving drops of sweet blood and shakti from willing servants like Osahara and the others. The seeds of a plan began to form. If he could not act beyond the constraints of the nullstone, he simply had to draw them into those constraints.

Who had done this and why? Rohjer immediately dismissed anyone on Ardjia. Some hated him. He trusted Aamankhotep though, that the many attempts on his life were meant to only wound him, to display displeasure. Aamankhotep made sure they feared him more than they hated Rohjer. Random slave traders looking for a shakti slave? That just didn't add up. Why venture into Ardjia space and stage the elaborate dragon illusions, which indicated they were shakti users themselves, to kidnap him, when they had a planet full of ka users? They had specifically targeted him, Rohjer Doss, or the illustrious Lord Lightfall, take your pick. Which meant they knew of his trip to the North and the exact vector he would return on. Betrayal? Or someone powerful enough not to need an informant, someone powerful enough to know Rohjer's whereabouts anytime he cared to peer into the otherwhere. Someone like God Emperor Ttttutmosen. Rohjer did not want to overlook anything in his strong suspicions of Ardjia's ruler. The man couldn't be behind everything! And he knew what their separation would do to his son. A burning hole ate at Rohjer day and night making it difficult to think, to sleep, to do anything but miss Aamankhotep terribly. If only the nullstone were gone, he would know that Aamankhotep yet lived, but with it blocking his natural sixth sense of the otherwhere, it felt as though Aamankhotep were dead, along with Rohjer's several hundreds of servants. All dead. Their comforting presence uplifted him no longer. Dead, dead, dead. Nullstone made him feel as though he was dead. It seemed to actively leech the shakti from his body, mind, and soul, rather than simply block it. A Tattva Sanga Servitor constantly passed shakti back and forth to his surrounding environment. Taking it from food, drink, and air; giving it to others in his words, expressions, duties, actions. Trained all his life to 'breathe' shakti in the otherwhere, being cut off like this put Rohjer into great suffering. Soon, he could no longer expend shakti in his own muscles. Two bowls of grain per day were insufficient to replenish him. His muscles began to weaken with confinement.

The separation from like minded people, from other shakti users, and from any purposeful activity weighed on his soul as well. He wondered what ever had happened to the situation on Rollodon that he had been sent to guide and oversee. He knew Rollodon was unhurt by the anastomosis Cataclysm as it was called, the night everything changed, in his life, as well as the Universe's order. It was one of the very few inhabited planets that had its travel time from Parare lengthened by the Ardjia anastomses, rather than shortened.

He could not even have civilized conversation with his captors. They were likely to beat him senseless if he gave a hint of making a request or telling them what was moral, ethical, spiritual, etc. He tried to fish out some personal details. It seemed they had all four been born far out of the Identic and thus greatly resented Tattva Sanga members, who only operated within the Identic, jealous of his upbringing and training, while disparaging it at every turn. So Rohjer's isolation grew.

He refused to pity himself and wallow in sorrow. He did have purpose he reminded himself over and over. He would live to escape and get back to Erak who needed him, to Aamankhotep who needed him, to Zahra who needed him, to his servants and guards who needed him. He needed them all just as much. Erak was a young boy. It wasn't fair to lift him up out of poverty and begin shakti training and then abandon him. The boy did have promise and the Tattva Sanga temple had to start somewhere on Ardjia. Rohjer's deep mind moved back toward his hopeful picture of Erak as a wise scholar of the Books of Knowledge administrating the very first Tattva Sanga Temple, along with Daya and Sirocco's students.

“Wake up and eat!” his captor called, banging the bell of his blaster against the crude bars of his cell.

Rohjer blinked and complied, or tried to. His legs were numb. He had forgotten to track the time and change position regularly.

The one called Lucky only laughed as he slid in 2 bowls of grain and the carafe of milk.

Rohjer fell and panted, rubbing at his leg. This was unacceptable. He had been too much alone in his own mind. He had to get his physical strength back!

“Ya getting' crazy in thar by yaself all the time?” Morak asked gleefully.

Rohjer's calm acceptance irritated them no end. “Yes,” Rohjer said quietly. “Would you sit with me?”

Morak looked at Bender quizzically. Bender laughed. “He's softening on ya!”

“I miss people,” Rohjer said hesitantly, gulping down oats. “And I miss sex.”

Excitedly, the two came into the cell to hear Rohjer lament his lack of sex life.