18
“I think the answer has to be yes.” It was Terrano who spoke. “I’m aware of them the same way I would be of any other space.
I followed the Barrani Teela was tracking. I should have stepped out of phase so their attacks wouldn’t land. That’s what
I thought happened.”
“That’s not what happened.” Flat words. Kaylin wasn’t asking. She was confirming.
“No, it’s not,” Mandoran said. “I’ve never had so much trouble reaching Terrano. You’ve been with me when I’ve sidestepped
before. You came with me. It was effortless. I mean, I had to be in contact with you to move you as well, but I could do it
before a spell cast could even be started.”
Terrano snorted. “The ground there, the air—that’s the word I use, but it’s probably not technically accurate—was similar
to other places.
“Getting there was similar. I mean, some places are harder to navigate—they’re small or they’re broken.
Some I can visit but most of my cohort can’t.
Not safely. It’s how I escaped Alsanis when we were jailed in the Hallionne.
It took work. I failed a lot before I finally succeeded.
But . . . we all assume that our ability to sidestep or even disincorporate came to us because we were exposed to the regalia when we were children. We weren’t fully grounded in our world.
“It’s illegal to expose children to the regalia now. But the definition of child is tricky.” Terrano shrugged, uncomfortable. “There’ve always been Barrani who want to shed their name. I mean, I get it.
If I didn’t, who would? I almost—”
Kaylin lifted a hand. “You live in my house. I don’t want to have to stop Sedarias from murdering you.” She exhaled. “I’m
aware that there are Barrani who view their True Name as an ultimate weakness, a curse from the Ancients. One of them was
fieflord, for a while—and the Tower was almost compromised because of it.
“But I’ve encountered them before, in Nightshade. I think they’re called vampires in some quarters. I don’t know how they
continue to exist, absent their names—but they don’t appear to have them anymore. Which is what they theoretically wanted.
If more Barrani encountered them, I’m pretty sure we’d have centuries free of anyone stupid enough to make the attempt.”
“I am not at all confident that that is the case,” Kavallac said. “There will always be those who believe they are the exception
to the rule.”
Fair enough. Some people learned not to stick their hand in the fire by watching others get burned. Some people were Terrano.
Only Terrano? Severn’s voice was heavy with amusement.
“If such a path were created, and if the Barrani who walk it are people who naturally want freedom from the namebinding, things
are more dangerous than we realized. If they are attempting to make a space, a plane, in which True Words aren’t the determinant
of communication, of life itself . . .” Kavallac shook her head.
Terrano said nothing. His eyes were narrowed; he was clearly getting some pushback or criticism from the cohort.
Fallessian’s eyes were blue, and as narrow as Terrano’s when he turned to face him. “Absolutely not.”
“I think I know how to make the connection between my name and myself more attenuated. It’s how I lived toward the end of
our time in the Hallionne. It’s how I lived after.”
“Without the rest of us,” Serralyn pointed out in the gentlest of tones. “You could come back, then. There’s no guarantee that will be true in the future.”
Kaylin would have had to pick her jaw off the floor if it weren’t attached to her face. “Exactly what did you think you were going to do?” she demanded. She added a Leontine word or two at the end.
“Experiment?” Terrano replied as if this were obvious. He glanced at Mandoran.
Mandoran shook his head. “Leave me so far out of it I don’t have to hear anything about your so-called experiments at all.”
“Kaylin could see her Marks in the place I was standing,” Terrano pointed out.
Mandoran nodded.
“And she could heal—or something equivalent. So the Barrani traversing that path aren’t necessarily people who’ve lost or
ditched their names.”
Kaylin nodded. “But . . . how could they interfere with the power of the names?”
Kavallac frowned. “It is possible they learned a lesson from compatriots who had fully divorced their existence from their
True Names. If the names cannot interact, if the namebonds cannot be contacted, would that not be their ideal end goal? They
would be possessed of the names that are the source of Barrani life without the inherent gaping weakness those names represent.”
“It’s not just weakness,” Serralyn said, her voice soft. “For me, it’s the source of my strength.”
“Should any one of you attempt to use the namebond to control or command, that strength would be permanently shattered,” Kavallac said.
But her eyes were orange with gold flecks, not red; she understood, and cared for, Serralyn.
“What is done is done. You cannot unlearn the names you were given; you cannot release that knowledge, save in death.
“None of your friends want that. But I believe it is necessary to keep an eye on Terrano. The interaction with Lord Nightshade
involved external use of True Words. The separation appears to be between the internal name and external reach. How that was
achieved we do not know.
“But the question of the Erenne mark, the planes, and the . . . containment, for want of a better word, are of great import.”
“Should I mention the new Shadow now?”
“No. But Serralyn informed Arbiter Starrante of what occurred. It caused much concern and raised questions—but if both the
High Halls and Helen can accept you, we feel harm will not be done. We are aware there is a risk, but none of the Arbiters
have experience with Shadow—not even as much as you. In this, we allow the guidance of those most likely to be affected.
“Research continues, but the salient point is this: in the archives in the library, and in studies done by the intrepid—not
all of whom were fortunate enough to survive—we know that True Words exist as the Ancients did: in all planes. It is likely
that were you to learn what the cohort knows, you could walk as they walk—not completely here, but adjacent to it. But understand,
Kaylin, that the complexity of an Ancestral name is bedazzling to those who are given even a glimpse of it; it is a concert
that is endless, harmonic, and diverse simultaneously.”
“Have you seen such a name?”
Kavallac’s smile was toothy, her eyes almost purely gold.
“Of course I have. It is what exists at the heart of this library, just as words exist at the heart of Helen or the Academia.
There is no sentience in the library; the library is far older, and the creator believed that it was the contents of the library that would convey meaning to those who were able to visit it.
“But we are its guardians. I believe it is well past curfew for at least one of you; exceptions have been made. But Lord Bellusdeo
may be waiting for you when you leave.”
She was. Her expression made clear that no other sister had chosen to peer out; she was the Bellusdeo Kaylin knew. She leaned
against the wall, arms folded, eyes an orange-red. Of course they were.
Serralyn left the library last. Her eyes were the green-blue of worry, and her gaze was mostly on Terrano, her brow furrowed.
No one was shouting, but Fallessian looked like murder on two legs, and Mandoran looked hungover. Terrano looked like Terrano,
but criticism usually bounced off him.
Kaylin was grateful to know none of their True Names.
Mandoran clearly didn’t feel he should suffer alone. “We’re discussing exploration and its relative safety. Except for Sedarias.
She’s almost enraged that Terrano could be so feckless just before a meeting with An’Tellarus.”
“One: I have to issue an invitation to Yvonne. Two: she has to accept it. Three: I am not issuing an invitation that includes An’Tellarus’s name anywhere in print. There’s no guarantee that she’ll
show—”
“Sedarias suggests that the person who extends the invitation obviously sets the date. Teela is willing to bet, in her words,
actual money that An’Tellarus will show.”
“Could we maybe deal with one thing at a time?”
“Yes,” Bellusdeo said, her voice a draconic rumble. “Shadow.”
Kaylin exhaled.
“I’m going to fly back to Helen’s. Those who aren’t too cowardly can join me. We have a lot to discuss.”
They didn’t have a lot to discuss, but Bellusdeo was Bellusdeo. When she demanded discussion, no didn’t matter. She understood that some of what had been discussed was irrelevant—but the arbiter of relevance was always
going to be the gold Dragon.
She landed on the lawn, passing the fence line. Kaylin’s many daydreams of flight didn’t include by Dragon. Bellusdeo wasn’t
technically allowed to fly across the city skies, but the rule was flexible enough the Emperor was unlikely to descend on
her to punish her for breaking that law.
Not everyone fit on the Dragon’s back; Fallessian, Kaylin, and Severn did. She grabbed Mandoran by her claws, careful not
to injure him; Terrano would have nothing to do with returning home that way. There was an argument, but it was silent, not
meant for outsiders—or not meant for outsiders when one of them was a Dragon.
Kaylin, who couldn’t hear the argument, understood it: Terrano intended to make his own way home. In the heightened threat
of Barrani of unknown loyalties and considering the injuries Terrano had already taken, walking home didn’t seem like a safe
bet if he was on his own. But he wasn’t going to sit on Bellusdeo’s back, and her attempt to catch him as she’d taken hold
of Mandoran was a failure.
If Bellusdeo was Bellusdeo, Terrano was Terrano. Fallessian was both tense and resigned. Mandoran, however, was amused—which
was no doubt why he had the harder flight home.