“Stop what? What's he doing?” He looked across at Dill – or Sam – who seemed to be attacking the golem with a screwdriver. There was a control cube on the bench next to him, the muted quality of it's etchings making it clear it held no captured spirit. He looked at Jasfoup, who shrugged.
“He's editing the sigils on the soul cake. He wants to be able to go in and out of it.”
“Is that wise?” Harold went up to the bench and reached for the cube. From this distance he could see the damage to several of the binding sigil, the line that made them distorted and scratched out by dint of a metal instrument.
“Don't touch it.” Dill/Sam held the screwdriver like a blade. “I know exactly what I'm doing. I read the treatise you were using.”
“What? All of it? I wouldn't have thought you had time.” Harold dropped his hand. “I have to point out that releasing the binding symbol is unwise.”
“I need to be able to enter and leave the control cube at will.” The zombie managed to obliterate a third sigil on the golem itself. “I don't want to be trapped inside it and dependant on another technician to transfer me to a more appropriate housing. I want to be free of this rotting cadaver but still able to function as an intelligent being, not as a slave to some external commander.”
“But releasing the bindings will also make the golem vulnerable to possession...”
“Yes. By me.” Dill / Sam picked up the cube and slipped it into its housing, then screwed on the back plate. He turned to Harold. “Time we left I think.” He pointed to an open laptop where an image of armed troops entering a stairwell filled the screen.