Shavri wishes she had some sort of reassurance to give. She has none. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Trust me. So am I." 

"Do we know if Cam can still get messages? It seems likely - I guess I'd better try writing one, tell him what's going on here and why we're not risking summoning him back..." She drags herself to her feet, patting Vanyel's shoulder. "Hang in there." 

At the Healers' centre station, she scribbles a quick note to Cam, explaining that things in Haven are going really really badly and they wish they knew a way to safely re-summon him but they don't. 

However: 

A half-candlemark after dawn, eight hundred miles north of Haven, Leareth stands in an underground, thoroughly shielded Work Room, and finishes drawing the simpler of the two circles, carefully and neatly in chalk on the floor. 

As soon as Cam feels it he conjures a copy and checks it over in a few formats to make sure it's really free and clear and unbound. He checks the room it's in, and the history of the room in case anyone's been casting creepy spells he can't see in there that he needs to worry about, and he puts his talismans on.

A week ago some other mages were in here and probably doing magic to renew the shielding, though Cam can't see the exact details of the magic they're casting directly. 

Leareth isn't sure if that means it didn't work. He waits. 

A week ago is probably not specifically to prepare for summoning demons, at least.

Cam braces himself for possible attempted mindreading by getting a very annoying song stuck in his head and answers the circle.

Leareth doesn't startle visibly, or even blink. (He is in fact very startled, and keeping it off his face takes substantial effort.) He doesn't try to read Cam's mind. 

"Welcome," he says levelly. "I imagine you know who I am. Vanyel suggested that I contact you in this way." 

"Here I am. Do you have any" wow that song is SO annoying and he hopes it was unnecessary "immediate business or shall I just go back to what I was doing?"

"I do not have urgent business with you, no, unless you have questions for me, which I would be pleased to answer." Leareth ducks his head slightly. "...If you are able to make sure that Herald Vanyel is all right, I would appreciate that. We spoke last night in our Foresight dream and he seemed - very distressed. Unsurprisingly, he preferred not to share details." 

Cam pulls out his computer and sends Vanyel a text. I'm back, thanks for the referral, how are you holding up? "I do have a few questions. For instance, what the fuck is Vicky's problem."

Vanyel stares blankly at the message. He has no idea how he could possibly reply to that question, so he just...doesn't. 

"I am not entirely sure, since He has been uninterested in any dialogue or negotiations. He clearly sees my work as some kind of threat - I am not sure why He is opposed to better infrastructure or eradicating diseases. Some of it may be a matter of - the gods disliking change. I can only make inferences about Their nature, but I believe They perceive the world and operate in it mostly via Foresight, and a less predictable future could disrupt this. And They might disapprove of my past. ...I am responsible in part for the Cataclysm that damaged the Pelagirs land so badly. It was not something I ever intended to happen, I know that, but - nonetheless, I fought a war to its conclusion, and the weapon that my opponent used to kill me had that effect." 

"Uh-huh. Care to respond to allegations that you are a mind-controlling bodysnatcher? Frowned upon in more civilized climes."

"...I do take over the bodies of others, that is true. It was the worst of several contingencies I set up in my first lifetime, and the only one that survived the Cataclysm; the gods have interfered thoroughly enough to prevent my setting up any other." He bows his head again. "I...judged it worthwhile, on net, to keep it during the centuries after the Cataclysm, when civilization was nearly gone and I was one of the only people in the world who still remembered the critical magics that could let us grow crops and transport food. By the time the world had stabilized, I had noticed the - stagnant effects - of the gods' apparent aversion to change, and that I had the best chance of someday changing that. ...As for mind control, the vast majority of compulsions used in my organization are voluntarily chosen by my staff, but - yes, I do sometimes use involuntary compulsions, when that allows for plans with fewer casualties and less harm done in other ways." 

"Can you cut it out should circumstances ever change or are you doomed to eternal bodysnatching?"

"Yes, of course - I have plans for much better methods of prolonging life, which I could carry out with the help of a friendly god. I would make them available to everyone who wished for them, not only myself." 

"About the ten million lives thing!" says Cam, producing a basement dweller on the floor and gesturing dramatically at it. "Will that sort do?"

That gets a visible reaction. Leareth leans forward, eyes widening a little, eyebrows lifting. 

"What - how did you do that? What is that being? It has an ordinary life-force but no mind– wait, that is not right - there is a presence there, but no thoughts..." 

"Oh good, it's nice to have that confirmed, I'd feel awful about my medical school tenure if we'd somehow been mistaken about that. Will it do."

"...I think likely but I am not sure. May I test it." 

"Be my guest."

Blood-magic, fortunately, does not actually require blood to be spilled, or any other kind of messiness. 

Leareth crouches, and with a very carefully calibrated levinbolt aimed just that far below the skin, stops the not-human's heart. 

He frowns, concentrating intently - 

- and then, still crouching on the floor, lifts his head and looks at Cam with an incredibly uncharacteristic smile. 

"Yes. It is...less than an adult human would usually be? The soul is - not as firmly attached. It would need closer to fifteen million. But - yes. It would work."