I cannot guarantee that. She has imperatives as Hallionne that she cannot ignore. If he is considered a threat—and I cannot see how he would not be—she will not have the choice.
If she tries tohurthim, he’ll respond defensively—please!
I will try, Chosen. But think:thisis what you want in the High Halls.Thisis what we will have at the very heart of the most important, the most dangerous, of our duties.
The others are not—they’re not like him.
You hold my name, Kaylin; I do not hold yours. But even so, I advise you not to lie while speaking thus.
I’m not—
You do not even believe what you are telling me. Perhaps you are lying to yourself. I will return. While I bespeak the Hallionne, distract the intruder.
Before she could dredge up a reply, the Lord of the West March vanished.
15
Terrano did not vanish. That was the good news. The shape of his eyes changed as he regarded Bellusdeo, which was the bad news.
“She’s with me,” Kaylin said. “She’s with me with permission. The Hallionne accepts her as a guest.” She moved to stand in front of the Dragon, without any confidence that it would stop him if he decided to attack. Gestures, however, mattered.
Terrano looked openly skeptical.
“You can ask the Hallionne yourself, if you want. But right now, Orbaranne probably considersyouthe primary threat.”
She saw his expression ripple, which was an exact physical description. His eyes grew larger, changing the shape, the balance, of his facial features.
Please, please, please, she thought, at the absent Lord of the West March.
Distract him, that Lord replied.
There was only one way to do that. “Can you find Sedarias?” Kaylin asked. And then, because the constant small changes in his face reminded her of bad nightmares about dead people, added, “And can youpleasestop doing that thing with your face?”
Behind her, she heard a brief draconian snort.
“What thing with my face?”
“If I had a mirror you could actually see, I’d show you—but your face is constantly changing shape and size. Especially your eyes. And it is really, really disturbing.” To her surprise, he did as she’d requested, looking almost embarrassed.
“It doesn’t usually matter what I look like when I’m out there.” He raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “I don’t talk to people like you much.”
“We don’t talk to people like you much, either. But it makes you look like a—a ghost. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“A Shadow.”
This time, his limbs wavered, becoming opaque and elongating. Limbs were still better than face.
“Is that what you are, now?” she asked.
He seemed to consider this, his face creasing in an entirely normal, Barrani way. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. It wassonot the reply she wanted. “To be honest, I don’t really understand anymore what Shadowis.”
“It’s the thing that kills us or warps us when it comes in contact with us. You must understand it—didn’t you send the forest Ferals to attack us?”
He frowned again. “The dogs, you mean?”
“They weren’t what the rest of us call dogs.”