25 #2
are they trying to speak? Are they attached to Yvonne, or are they just, I don’t know, haunting her?”
“They’re not like Bellusdeo’s sisters.” Mrs. Erickson’s voice was soft but certain.
“I would say haunting might be the correct word.” She trailed off.
“I’ve never seen the dead that way. If you asked me, I would say they aren’t quite dead at all—but there’s something there.
” She spoke almost apologetically, as if she was afraid to offer insult to whatever it was she saw.
“I can’t see them,” Yvonne told her, understanding immediately the older woman’s gentle hesitation. “I can’t hear them. I
don’t really remember Shadow—I remember swords, and threats. I managed to escape. My family didn’t. But I was wounded in the
escape, and I remember just . . . crawling. But I crawled toward the voice I could hear—the one that didn’t sound like threats
and death. Or screaming.
“Severn found me in the green—I knew that part. I didn’t quite know the rest.” Until now. “Am I danger to the Lake?” she asked,
her voice so soft Kaylin barely heard the question. But it was the question that was uppermost in her mind.
This isn’t why she’d invited Yvonne to visit. She’d liked her instinctively—hells, she still did. The Lake had involved itself, somehow. Yvonne had heard it, just as she’d heard the green when she’d been injured in the West March.
She’d walked toward that sound, that voice, and found herself within the cavern that contained the Lake. Kaylin had often
wondered why the Lake was situated in a cavern, surrounded on all sides by rock—but maybe that was the best way to protect
it. Were the Lake open to sun and sky, it would be open to Dragon flights and magical, aerial attacks—at least, during the
time when the High Halls had collapsed its focus in, toward containing the Shadow at the very heart of the Tower of Test.
If the Lake chose . . .
“Helen, could you let Ynpharion through?”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Helen replied, which sounded like no.
“I need him to ask the Consort a question.”
“If you could control your thoughts, if you could block what you see or hear, it would not be a risk. You cannot. And you are well aware that if the Lady’s position is not political, that is only by Barrani standards.
Should she feel something is a danger—a genuine danger, not a political threat—she will stop at nothing to remove it. ”
Kaylin wanted to argue further, but knew Helen was right.
“So, where are we now?” Terrano asked when everyone had fallen silent.
“We’re trying to figure that out.” Kaylin once again turned to Mrs. Erickson. “You didn’t see the ghosts until the flowers
appeared?”
Mrs. Erickson shook her head.
“I’m going to assume that the green has slender roots here at the moment. Could be because of Yvonne. Could be because of
Severn’s weapon. Could be because of this damn dress. I’d say it doesn’t matter why, but it obviously does. I just don’t think
we’re going to get answers to that right now.”
“If ever,” An’Tellarus said. “But if the dress is here and the Teller’s crown is here, they are an invitation to the regalia. The regalia does not require an audience; there were early ceremonies to which very, very few were witness. What we understand is the
green reveals its heart during those Tellings—but not even the Teller knows, before it begins, what tale will be formed or
told.
“Somehow, the green has found purchase within the confines of Helen.” An’Tellarus’s smile was crooked, underlined by bitterness
that no longer touched her voice. “Arcanists would envy you for eternity for what has been built here. The Arcanists of the
past have tried.”
“Oh, believe we know that,” Kaylin muttered in Elantran.
“What we need to know right now isn’t why the green is here—well, maybe—but why the Lake called Yvonne, and what the Shadow contained in the green actually was.
Or is. If Yvonne was injured by Shadow years ago in the West March, and it happened because the former An’Sennarin wanted to capture or injure her badly enough to make Ollarin obedient, some form of Shadow is clearly connected to Lords of the High Court—and those lords are our enemies.
But they can move in ways normal Barrani, even Arcanists, can’t move.
They can slide past physical barriers or objects.
We have some experience with that—but not the way they do. ”
“We’ve been experimenting,” Terrano said, his expression far more serious. “They’re not doing what we do. I wouldn’t say it’s
remotely the same. It’s more like they’ve created a portal tunnel through which they can travel.” He cleared his throat. “Or
at least, that’s what we’ve come to believe they believe.”
“Serralyn’s research?”
He nodded. “Early attempts weren’t successful. Notes from those experiments remain, classified as portal research, not Shadow
research. She doesn’t think they would ever have thought of moving the way I move—for what she hopes are obvious reasons.
Not that it wasn’t tried in earlier times—for war,” Terrano added. “But those intrepid researchers didn’t survive their early
attempts.
“This, however, is different. One of the strongest elementalists of our race—a fire mage—found that he could walk through
fire. With will and effort, he could use fire as a portal; the fire existed everywhere, or could. I believe Ollarin is powerful
enough he could do the same: he could walk through the water to a destination of his choice. That’s Serralyn, by the way.”
“I guessed.”
“She’s thinking that Shadow might once have been very much like an element—but a different force, a later force. Life didn’t
depend on it—or not our lives. Not the lives of the races we know and interact with. It’s possible that the Wevaran or the
Ancestors touched Shadow as a primal, early force—a transformative force.
“That part, she’s less certain of. Whole races were born, and whole races went extinct. The library was not yet created, and the notes about those vanished early races were . . . not like our books.
“There is evidence that some of the Ancients were aligned with all the elements, and Shadow was one—either discovered or created.
Starrante thinks it was actually discovered, but he does not share a language with the archive itself, and attempting to decode
the ancient recording has proved difficult. There are archives that are called books by the librarians—but they’re not books at all. They’re not writing in any way we understand writing. Starrante has been
focused on Shadow as an elemental force, not as the heart of Ravellon.
“Shadow as it exists now seems to be a primal force with will, intent, command. Just as earth, fire, air, and water have crude
will and intent.”
Kaylin frowned. “I’ve been to the Keeper’s garden. The whole purpose of that garden is to quiet the destructive intent of the wild elements. But that intent—and the enmity of each element for all the others—exists as
part of their nature; they desire dominance and total control. Which would pretty much kill all of us, no matter which won,
if there was a winner.
“We don’t fear the wild elements. We don’t fear their attempts to control us. But they exist. You’ve never seen the garden
when things are unstable. I have.”
“And your point?”
“Shadow isn’t part of the garden. Maybe there are no boundaries and no cages that have stopped that primal force—if it is a primal force—from gaining dominance.”
“But if that were the case, the Shadow in the green would have had some intent, some will, surely?” An’Tellarus seemed almost
annoyingly amused. “Yes, Severn, I think I definitely understand why you never thought to mention the young lady.”
Terrano cleared his throat. “Serralyn thinks there’s some merit to what you’re suggesting.”
“What was I suggesting?”
“That Shadow exists in a fashion similar to elements. There’s Shadow as we perceive it, which is what the Towers were created
to cage, and Shadow as elemental force, as something that can, like fire or water or earth, be used as a source of power.
Arbiter Starrante’s research implies your guess could be true.”
Kaylin frowned. “You think Yvonne’s injury wasn’t an attempt at invasion?”
“It was definitely an attempt to injure—but you’ve seen the effects of Shadow that breach the barriers surrounding Ravellon. It’s transformative; it takes over, mutates, and changes physical forms. People don’t summon fire elementals to transform
things. They summon them to destroy, or threaten to destroy, things.”
“So it might be likely that the Shadow used is, for want of a better word, inert?”
“Serralyn considers that not a better word, for what it’s worth.”
“Helen, would you sense that?”
“You carried something that definitely contained Shadow into the house, at least according to your memories. And Terrano’s
and Mandoran’s. I cannot sense it. Hope believes it is not a danger to you.”
Kaylin frowned. Eyes narrowed, she turned to Terrano. “Is it still there?”
He grimaced. “I can’t see it from where I’m standing.”
“Could you see it if you were standing in a different place?”
“Helen?” Terrano asked, the name suspiciously inflected with whining.
“We’ve been experimenting—carefully and judiciously—since Terrano’s return,” Helen said. “But the paths used by the assassins—for
want of a better word—aren’t Terrano’s method of travel. I did not judge it wise to attempt to reach that space from within
my own perimeters except when heavily supervised.”
Kaylin opened her mouth. Closed it again. She could hear voices, now. She glanced at Mrs. Erickson; Mrs. Erickson was trying very hard not to stare at Yvonne. To Kaylin’s eyes, Yvonne hadn’t changed. But sound had changed in this room, and the scent of the air was heavy with growth.
“I think those of us who can should head upstairs.”
“Annarion’s not going to let everyone in.” By everyone, Terrano clearly meant An’Tellarus.
She felt Severn’s hesitation, but he said nothing. Yvonne, to Severn, wasn’t dangerous in the way An’Tellarus could be—but
she wasn’t safe, either. Was it the ghosts Mrs. Erickson could see but couldn’t touch or speak with? Was it Yvonne’s interaction
with the Lake, or before it, the green?
If he had an answer, he didn’t share it. But he didn’t share objections, either.
The kitchen led to the dining room, where chairs sat beneath the top of a long table. Helen had not set the table for guests,
in theory—but she had set it to be seen. Yvonne hadn’t been invited for a meal but had been invited for the equivalent of
morning tea. Kaylin didn’t love tea but understood the word as a loose description of a social event. Given Yvonne’s readiness
to join the kitchen, she imagined Yvonne wouldn’t care about specifics of torturous etiquette—but An’Tellarus would.
Etiquette, however, was not foremost on An’Tellarus’s mind. Nightshade had been mentioned, but an outcaste fieflord was not
yet as important as the possible fate of a haunted Yvonne. Kaylin couldn’t unsay Nightshade’s name. An’Tellarus wouldn’t forget
it. Kaylin was certain both she and Terrano would get an earful—or eleven—when An’Tellarus finally departed.
The problem was to get her to depart.
“I think that unlikely,” Helen said quietly.
“While she is difficult—and she has always been difficult—she is not what the Barrani would consider malicious.
Her concern for Yvonne is genuine, but her attachment to Severn is also, to my surprise, genuine.
She feels Severn can take care of himself—and she is not a fool; she recognizes his attachment to you.
But she feels that Yvonne stumbles into things without will or intent—and can easily get swept away by them.
“I do not believe she is wrong. But Kaylin—you, too, tend to stumble into the most extreme of situations. An’Tellarus is willing
to trust you, in part because you’ll be dead soon—of old age, one hopes—and in part because Yvonne already does. Yvonne’s
instincts are good, in Cediela’s opinion. It’s just that she can’t act on them much of the time.”
“Why do you call her that?”
“Forgive me; that was rude. It is the name by which she is called by closer acquaintances at court; it was used far more frequently
in the West March than it has been in the High Halls.” Helen hesitated. “I believe I can distract An’Tellarus; I can entertain
her. But if I do, it will require far more concentration than it does to keep track of the cohort’s doings within my walls.”
“Why?”
“She is old, she is canny, and she is fully capable of masking her thoughts. She is not without personal power. And she despises
boredom. She is not bored now; she is fully engaged—indeed, she was like this in the distant past.”
“You liked her,” Kaylin said; it was almost an accusation.
“She is not the type of person one either likes or dislikes. She is the type of person one appreciates. But buildings, as
Barrani, are eternal unless destroyed. Ennui and boredom can threaten us all when we have no will or goals of our own. An’Tellarus
was, to the ruin and dismay of many, never boring. I may be forced to adopt an entirely different form for my Avatar; I hope
it will not be alarming.”
“But if she talks to you, she won’t insist on joining us in Nightshade’s room?”
“I will not allow her to enter if Annarion does not agree. Annarion will never agree.” Helen’s smile was serene. “But Cediela understands at least this much. She may demand. She will not attempt to use force.”
“Her demands are pretty forceful.”
“That is true. I have let the cohort know that my physical form will be concentrated in an appearance to which they are not
accustomed—and I have asked Fallessian to escort Imelda to her quarters and keep her company there over tea. Unless things
become heated or physical combat ensues, he will remain with her.”
If physical combat, as Helen put it, ensued, Kaylin suspected that Fallessian might remain with her as well.
“Do you expect things to be that messy?”
“People are nosing around my perimeters at the moment; they believe they are being subtle.”
That shouldn’t be a problem for Helen. “They’re not Tellarus’s people, are they?”
“No.”
“. . . they’re not trying to enter the premises the usual way.”
“Sadly, no. It makes containing An’Tellarus in a socially acceptable fashion more complicated. The cohort is also keeping
watch and have expanded the domains in which they are being watchful—but only Mandoran and Terrano have any experience with
some of the paths that I believe might be used. I have made Terrano aware of the possible difficulty. He has informed the
others. But I believe Serralyn wishes to join the cohort, and a small argument is in progress.”
“Is there ever a time when a small argument isn’t in progress?”
“Yes. When things are, as you might put it, on fire.”