Hector needed a few seconds to process what Garovel had just said.
‘Are you sure “soul” is the right word for it?’ said Chergoa. ‘It’s not like the guy’s just sleeping. You and I would be able to sense him if that were the case.’
‘You might be right,’ said Garovel, ‘but I think he’s definitely still alive. In some form. And if he is, then maybe we can talk to him.’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Chergoa. ‘But if he hasn’t noticed us by now, then how do we get him to?’
‘Hmm.’ Garovel paused. ‘Jaf’lah! Ai! Jaf’lah!’
‘Ai! Jaf’lah! Rasalased!’ Garovel kept going, but Hector couldn’t really follow what else he said.
It was a bit strange, hearing Garovel speak in Valgan. The reaper spoke Mohssian so fluently that Hector had never really imagined him speaking anything else. He’d known, of course, that Garovel knew a ton of different languages, but it was different, actually hearing it firsthand.
After a short time, though, Garovel stopped. ‘I don’t think it’s working,’ he said.
‘Color me surprised,’ said Chergoa.
‘Yeah, well, it was worth a shot,’ said Garovel. ‘Looks like meditation is our best bet, then. Hector?’
‘Oh, uh. O-okay.’
‘Em?’ said Chergoa.
Hector focused. He settled his thoughts and concentrated on his one sense again.
It was faster this time. He felt his mind plunge down and down and down, felt it become enveloped in that familiar darkness, so thick it felt somehow physical. And soon enough, he was there again, feeling it all again, cracks echoing in space, breathing all around him.
Only then did he realize that he had no idea what he was doing. Was he supposed to ask this bodiless mass a question? He probably should have asked Garovel about that before diving back in. It was difficult even to think. Part of maintaining the meditation meant keeping his mind clear and just soaking in everything, but now his mind wanted to think while meditating. And he wasn’t sure that was even possible.