“And I explained that.”
Kaylin believed him. Lirienne, however, was far more suspicious and remote. “You know you look like a silver statue with moving skirts for legs, right?”
His expression literally rippled with his confusion. “Do I?”
Bellusdeo snorted smoke. But her eyes retreated from the dangerous red into a more neutral orange. Not a pale orange, though. “Yes.”
“Ugh. Look—I’m sorry. I can’t really try to mess with my form while I’m containing this Shadow bit; I think I might lose it. It’s...not really happy, and it’s been trying to sting me continuously. And no, it only looks like a butterfly. It’s gotteeth.”
“You realize that you look very, very similar to one of the more impressive Shadows?” the Dragon asked, her tone casual. Her eye color remained a steady orange.
“Not tome, I don’t.” He didn’t particularly like Dragons, but could force himself to speak to one—or so his impression implied. “What exactly about me looks like Shadow?”
Both of the Dragon’s brows rose. “Would you like to field this question?” she asked of Kaylin.
“...Not really.”
Squawk.
Fine. “It’s your form.”
“The silver statue bit?”
“Silverisn’t the word I’d use—unless silver is mostly black, but shiny anyway. No, it’s the fact that you don’t reallyhavea fixed form as far as the rest of us can tell. You could probably just sprout a dozen arms—or heads, or whatever—if you felt like it.”
“Yes? And?”
“Shadow does that, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He continued to walk, as if concentrating, and as he did, his skin tone shifted from shiny, polished metal to something that looked far more natural. His arms, however, remained as they were: silver, reflective, hard. “That’show you tell the difference?”
“Yes. Normally.” But she thought of Gilbert. And she thought, as well, of the Hallionne Bertolle’s brothers, who thought of physical form the way rich people thought of clothing. Maybe he was now like those ancient brothers.
“It’s notShadow.” Terrano was clearly annoyed. “We’re tied to the forms of our birth by other things. But we mostly can’t access our inherent power. Or we couldn’t, before.”
“And you can now.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“This is what you did to Ynpharion.”
“I didn’tdoanything to Ynpharion that he didn’t want done. Surely you must see the advantage in being able to control one’s shape?” The doors that Terrano approached led directly into the Hallionne, and they were open, as if Alsanis was holding out his arms for the return of the prodigal. It was an odd thought, but Kaylin didn’t think she was wrong.
“How doyousee Shadow, then?” she asked.
“It’s part of a web,” he replied. “If you look hard, you can see it as it lies across the landscape. This?” he added, lifting his cupped hands, “is attached by a strand. It doesn’t exactly have a will of its own. No, that’s wrong. It has some initiative, some ability to adapt to its setting. But it doesn’t have its own personality.”
“I would think some of you have far more personality than is good for anyone,” Bellusdeo said.
“Annarion doesn’t.”
“No. He’s responsible. Mandoran, however, more than makes up for it.”
Terrano chuckled. “Just wait until you meet everyone else.” The amusement faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“We’ll find them,” Kaylin said.
“How can you, if I can’t?”