Kaylin knew very, very little about the Shadow guest within the High Halls. When she had come to confront that guest, she’d assumed that the guest would finally be destroyed, and the High Halls could put an end to its terrible history of testing and killing the so-called weak. She wasn’t upset about what actually happened.
But she didn’t know enough about this Shadow.
She knew enough about Shadows now to know that some had been enslaved; they had interests that didn’t align withconquer the whole world and destroy it. This particular guest had done so much damage in its time—to both the Barrani and, indirectly, the Dragons.
But he’d been sent to do that damage.
Because of the High Halls, he’d been prevented from doing more.
And now... the Avatar of the High Halls and the Shadow were somehow friends? Kaylin had a headache.
“We are not as you are,” Abel said, his voice softer. “And we have more in common than I have with the Barrani I must nurture and protect. His understanding of my kin is, in some fashion, far greater than my own.”
“...are you saying your guest understands things beyond fear and manipulation?”
The Avatar nodded. “Far better than I in his history within what used to be our shining city, our beacon of art and philosophy.”
“What was he?”
“You will see. But in part I wish to introduce you because of Terrano’s injury and the outcome that followed. There is a reason I was forced to expend almost all my power to keep his influence contained. He exists in a fashion similar to—and very different from—Terrano. But he has taken a liking to Terrano, although he disapproves of the political machinations of some of his kin.”
They took the stairs with elegance and grace, or as much as Kaylin could force herself to muster. As it was a long climb, she lost both, treading without thought like a determined Hawk. She had heard chimes when she’d walked these steps before andheard them now—but they weren’t isolated; they were part of a distant music that grew louder as she approached, as if her steps, as if she herself, were part of the song.
The Marks on her arms began to glow a bright, warm gold. That was normal for the Marks of the Chosen. But when they lifted themselves from her skin, she stumbled before righting herself by reaching for the rail that now adorned the stairs. The metal was the color of the Marks, and it was warm to the touch, almost as if it were skin.
The stairs opened up, the song rippling outward, the notes shifting and changing in tone and increasing in volume. Light could be seen at the height of the stairs, a light so bright it caused Kaylin to squint.
“I should have told you to close your eyes,” Terrano muttered. “Sorry.”
A gentle laugh, in time somehow with the music, was the Shadow’s response. “Welcome, Corporal. Welcome, Chosen. We have much to discuss, you and I.”
12
Kaylin had seen the monster in the basement the first time she had visited the High Halls. She’d visited in part to save the life of the Lord of the West March, Lirienne to his friends and family. But she’d done more than that. She’d seen the Shadow, and she’d understood what the price of failing the Test of Name was: death, and permanent separation from the Lake of Life and the new futures promised to names that returned to it.
This Shadow hadnothingin common with what she’d witnessed that day.
It had taken the form of a man, but as the man turned to meet Kaylin’s eyes, the form shifted into that of a woman—almost but not quite Barrani, and taller in height than the Barrani norm. The Shadow’s hair was a silver color—not white, but white with hints of gold, as if it were burnished by time and careful polishing. Their skin was golden, their eyes the azure of a clear sky.
But it was their voice that almost robbed Kaylin of the ability to move: it was the essence of a concert, all instruments joined together to convey an endless song, an utterance of harmonious beauty Kaylin had never heard before.
The Shadow was watching her; she had the impression of sunshine and joy, although none of that actually reached theexpression. But the Marks on her arm took up the warmest of gold colors, responding to what Kaylin felt. Or perhaps what the Shadow offered.
Had she met this person in any other circumstance, Shadow would be the furthest thought from her mind. History forced her to remember, but it was hard: standing in the warmth and beauty of this place, history seemed to be the lie.
“History,” Abel said, “is what is left in the wake of the present. The present is where you live. It is where you work, where you labor, where you rest. The past informs the present—but it is not the present.”
“Are you telling me to worry or not to worry?”
The Shadow laughed, the sound a harmony of voice and instrument.
“I’m telling you, he doesn’t usually look like this,” Terrano said, folding his arms. Given his expression, Sedarias or Teela was figuratively smacking the back of his head.
“Did you give him a name, too?” Kaylin asked.
“I think he’s got like a hundred,” Terrano replied. “Maybe more. I don’t think he cares what he’s called. He’s a power. He needs to be treated with respect.”
Kaylin’s jaw fell. “Exactlywhatdo you think respect means??”