17 #3
Erenne mark. Ask about whether or not the magic of its casting involved other planes.”
Androsse, if he had the answer, couldn’t be bothered to return to give it.
Kavallac, however, stepped forward. “You understand the genesis of True Words,” she said. “But possibly you believe—for we
are taught this—that the words were created because they contained immutable truth. To use the True tongue was to speak a
language that could not be misunderstood. It was an absolute form of communication.”
Kaylin nodded.
“That was not, however, the genesis of that language.
To the Ancients, to those who are and were our gods and creators, it was merely communication, used as you would use your native tongue.
The idea that miscommunications could exist did not occur to the Ancients, for when they spoke, their will was known.
When they spoke to their creations, their words had the power of command; when they created, their creations bore their signatures—sometimes literally.
“They were not of one mind; it was the language that gave them common ground.”
“So . . . like ours.”
“Our words are mired in slight misunderstandings; it is very easy for two educated people to use phrases and words in subtly
different ways. They did not. But words were crafted that only the Ancients could read or speak; language evolved under their
guidance and as that language was spoken. The evolution was horizontal; more words were added. Much of our collection is divided
into fact and fiction.
“For the Ancients, that was not the case.”
“Do you have books they wrote in this library?”
Kavallac laughed. “They did not write books; they did not create records. Not at the time. We are the records of their work, their deeds—Dragons, Wevaran, Ancestors, Barrani, and mortals such as you and the corporal.”
“But . . . we have no words. No True Names.” Mostly.
“No. Much of the research into True Words arose because mortals, obviously sentient, did not require them as the source of
their life. You were thought to be simply intelligent animals.”
Kaylin had heard this before. She hadn’t liked it any other time, either. But she could almost understand why researchers,
possessed of True Names, might draw that conclusion—the wonder would be that they bothered to research it at all.
“If the Ancestors were created so that they might make, of themselves, something new, something beyond what they were at creation,
why did the Ancients then create the Barrani?”
“We are not certain. Perhaps, in the end, the creators responsible for the creation of the Ancestors disliked the changes their creations made. That is our guess: the Barrani form itself could not always be preserved in the light of changes made by those early creations. It might be as simple, in our terms, as I loved the way they looked.” At Kaylin’s expression, Kavallac laughed.
“You cannot expect the Ancients to conform to even your own understanding of
what powerful means.”
Squawk.
“But the concept of planes of existence, the concepts of True Words across those planes, is old. You have the Marks of the
Chosen, and Serralyn has told us that you can see your Marks across planes. You can see them when you close your eyes; they
are not relegated to simple, biological vision.
“Have you yet walked a plane in which you cannot see your Marks?”
Kaylin shook her head. “Does such a plane exist?”
“There is very little research that implies the existence of True Words is not persistent across any plane. Just as the Ancients were. Think of them this way: you can draw—in two dimensions—a cube. The cube is meant to represent
an object that exists in three dimensions; the drawing, however, cannot be touched and handled in the same way. It implies
a cube; you recognize it as a cube, but it is not a cube.
“True Words would be the cube. You write reports, yes?”
Kaylin grimaced as Kavallac continued. “The words are flat; they exist in two dimensions. But True Words, like the cube, exist
in three. The attempt to capture the sense of True Words when one cannot speak them is very like the drawing versus the real
object. It is our belief that the True Words transcend our limited ability to interact with them. The cube exists in places
we cannot see or touch or know.
“It exists as the Ancients themselves existed. They existed in all planes, in all spaces, connected to the places we, or their
creations here, could see. They created worlds, and they populated them—just as ours was populated. They did not often work together, but
when they did, miracles occurred.”
“But if that was true, could there be a plane in which True Words didn’t exist?”
“Not a natural one, no. Terrano finds natural entries into spaces in which the Ancients once stood, if we understood the mechanism
at all. Wevaran naturally navigate other planes—or at least their use. Portals exist because of those spaces; they do not
invade the space in which you live. They are confined, useful spaces meant to expedite travel; the Ancients used them, and
in the end, we followed that example.
“But the library does not exist in the same fashion Killianas does. While we are here, we interact as if the space is the
same; it is not. It is why the library has been preserved through the fall of Ravellon and the loss of many, many worlds and the lives those worlds contained.
“You have seen the Devourer of worlds. Such a being is similar to the Ancients in its physical presence.”
It had been a long time since Kaylin had seen that Devourer. She thought of it as a natural catastrophe, not a being of intent
and will. She frowned. “When you say natural planes, are you implying that unnatural planes could somehow be constructed?”
Kavallac fell silent.