“It is much of the reason I could infiltrate even the High Halls. Abel’s defenses were not entirely porous, but the outer perimeter was not equal to the task. No Barrani of Terrano’s stature and drive were Lords of the High Court.”
“He would not have survived,” Abel said, the sentence an agreement of sorts.
“Terrano has informed us that youdidheal him—when you could reach him. But we have two concerns. The first: the attack itself. Terrano seems reckless, but he has survived because he has learned to navigate the different planes with caution. He would have perished were it not for your intervention—and I am grateful for it.
“But to attack Terrano at all, the attacker must have known which plane, and where on it, Terrano was standing. Weapons used in the world in which you spend most of your life wouldhave been entirely ineffective—just as your first attempts at healing him were. We do not suspect Terrano’s cohort. But we are very concerned about the attackers.
“The second difficulty: the Shadow that Terrano carried, briefly. It was inert—either too small or too pure to have the will and intent of what remains at the heart ofRavellonbehind it. But in expelling it, in releasing it, your familiar chose to intervene. I will not ask you what you commanded; it was clear from Terrano’s report that your familiar is, for the most part, unchecked. But what became combined with his power was Shadow—and you carried it with you when you returned.”
“Helen couldn’t sense anything off about it. Abel didn’t either, or I’d’ve never been allowed to enter.”
The Shadow—no. Just, no. “I need to be able to call you by some kind of name. If you’ve had so many of them, could you pick one I could use?”
Laughter was like the gentle peals of silver chimes in a light breeze. “Why is it so important?”
“You know that words are important, even if they’re ours. I can’t keep calling you ‘the Shadow.’ It’s not what you are.”
“Exactly. It is not what I am. But what you call me doesn’t change what I am.”
This was also true. Kaylin slowly exhaled. “We use the term Shadow as a warning and a designation. Shadows are, or Shadow is, our enemy. If we couldn’t mount defenses against it, we’d all be dead. I don’t want to use the terminology ofenemyevery time I speak with you.”
“But I was your enemy, Lord Kaylin.” Subtle emphasis on her title. “I killed many would-be Barrani Lords. I had a hand in the start of a war that all but destroyed the Dragons. Do you wish to forget that?”
“You were enslaved,” Kaylin replied, voice firm but quiet. “Your will was not your own.” She spoke the last phrase in High Barrani. She’d always struggled with the concept of justice, especially in the earliest years of her life. Or perhaps because of the choices she’d made—because she’dhada choice. Even if it was a bad one. Even if she’d felt it was the only choice she could make if she wanted to survive.
She’d done things she was the visceral opposite of proud of. But she couldn’tundothem. She couldn’t change the past. She wanted a world in which people didn’t feel that the only choice was to be what she’d been, to choose what she’d chosen.
Criminals had to be brought to justice; that was her job, her duty, the choice she’d made. But the mastermind was at the heart ofRavellon, not here.She exhaled.
“You were enslaved,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she faced possibly the most beautiful person she’d ever met. “Calling you a Shadow suited your role here. But you don’t have that role now. I’m not like you or Abel. I’m affected by the words I think, even if they’re not True Words. What name, of all the names you’ve been called, was your favorite?”
“They were not my names, but the name I favored most is not one you could even pronounce. It is Wevaran, and half of the calling is a weave of delicate gestures. You are not as they are, and will not be. I miss them.” Bright eyes widened, because Kaylin’s thoughts had jumped to Arbiter Starrante.
“Terrano has spoken about the Academia and its library—but not in terms that you would consider fair or flattering. You are right; thoughts have textures, surfaces, and dangerous undertows. You may call me Ariste.”
“I’m not calling you that,” Terrano said.
“I am not granting you such permission,” the newly named Ariste replied. “It is a word, a name, granted me by mortals in the distant past. Why do you look so surprised, Lord Kaylin? Mortals as a race have long existed. Do you consider your existence insignificant because your time is guaranteed to be finite?
“The Barrani in these Halls have eternity in which to createand work—but they kill each other thoughtlessly, their eternity bleeding away in the games they call politics. One cannot know the future; one cannot even fully understand the present. Great art was created by mortals, colored by their understanding of their lives and the shadow the brevity of those years could cast.
“Mortals have a flexibility that Immortals lack.”
“Ariste, I have a question. A few. Does the Shadow I absorbed from Terrano still cling to me?”
“Yes, Chosen. But it does not touch your world in any way.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Can you remove hours of yesterday that you dislike?”
Kaylin exhaled more slowly.
“He’s always like that,” Terrano muttered.
“Does Ariste,” who was clearly a woman at the moment, Terrano’s comment aside, “know for certain?”
Terrano nodded. “But that’s not the real question, is it?”