“Terrano should not have been there.”
“You’ve never tried to say no to Sedarias,” was Teela’s grim reply. “If Terrano was forbidden the Tower, Lord Kaylin should have been forbidden the Tower for the same reason.”
“She bears the marks of the Chosen.”
“Yes. But Lord Severn did not, and does not.” She turned to Kaylin. “It’s possible that Severn was allowed to undergo that test because he was with you—if I understand your journey, you weren’t separated during the test.”
“We weren’t,” Severn said.
“Terrano has been. But they are all facing different tests in their attempt to move forward. And we can’t know for certain that those who failed the test did so at the hands of the Adversary. It is possible they were trapped—are trapped—within the Tower itself, unable to either move forward or go back.”
This had never occurred to Kaylin, and she didn’t like the odds.
The wall beneath the Consort’s hand was no longer a wall. It was, as Kaylin had suspected it would be, a portal.
* * *
Spike whirred, but the warning wasn’t necessary. No one moved to enter the portal itself, not even the Consort, who had, in theory, opened the way. She glanced at Kaylin. Kaylin transferred the silent question to Hope, whose wings were spread and high.
“You suspect that this is where the breach occurred?” he asked. Kaylin repeated his question, wondering why the squawks were audible and the words were not. She lifted a hand before he could answer. If there was an answer, now was not the time for it.
“If it is possible for infiltration to occur here, we are in far more danger than even I realized,” the Consort replied. “But I know of no other way to reach the Adversary. Those who have already passed the Tower’s test can return to its end—but it has been our belief that the permission of either the High Lord or the Consort is explicitly required. And this,” she added, “is the proof of that requirement.”
“It’s a portal,” Kaylin not very helpfully pointed out.
“Yes.”
“Sedarias’s sister—”
Teela cleared her throat.
“Sorry. The Barrani who attacked Alsanis in an attempt to stop the cohort from taking this test. Better? Those Barrani didn’t attack from the front door, or even the back door, if there is one. They came to Alsanis through the portal paths, and they entered those from the outlands. If they’ve figured out how to do that...”
“Yes.”
“Was there no other way to confirm this before they started their test?” If Kaylin could have unsaid the words, she would have—practically before she’d finished them. Of course there was, but it involved great risk to the Consort, and a very clear signal to the Adversary—or his allies—of the Consort’s intent.
“We cannot be certain now.”
You can, a familiar voice said. Nightshade’s. It was grim, as grim as Teela’s had become. They have been searching the outlands for a way into the High Halls.
Kaylin didn’t ask him how he knew. Instead, she said, And you’re in the outlands.
Perceptive. I will attempt to meet you.
Annarion was not going to be happy. Kaylin thought the Consort, however, might be. “Spike.”
“Lord Kaylin.”
“Where does this path currently lead us?”
He whirred and clicked, processing the question, or at least processing the answers, most of which might not be relevant for people who weren’t Spike or Hope. When he finally answered, he was as hesitant as Kaylin had ever heard him. “It leads to the Adversary you wish to face. You cannot see him?”
“I can see a dark, black splotch surrounded by pale, luminescent gray.”
“That is all you can see?”
“Yes. I’m human. Severn?”
“I see what you see.” So did the rest of the Barrani. Only the Consort failed to answer the implied question.
“I do not believe,” Spike said when he had processed the answers, “that you will be safe. Ah, no. I do not believe that you are the only beings of your stature to occupy this passage or this space. Do you wish me to scout?”
Kaylin said yes. Hope, however, said no. Spike stuttered as Kaylin changed her answer, aware of the fact that everyone was now waiting on her, some less patiently than others.
“There’s a possibility,” she finally said, “that Nightshade will join us.”
Silence.
“I’d like us not to kill him, if that’s okay. Because he’s implied that he won’t be the only one joining us—and he’s likely to be on our side.”
To no one’s surprise, Teela headed into the portal. But she did glance back, once, at Severn, who nodded. They were both fully armed.
“I will not be able to mask your presence,” Spike told them all. “These rooms are not the lands you now traverse.”
“Did the spiders come from this portal?”
“No, Lord Kaylin.”
“Are more of them coming?”
“No. The webbing that they have spun is slender and tentative, and it has been utterly destroyed by your Teela. They can rebuild it; it will not be immediate.” Before she could ask for a definition of immediate, he said, “I believe it would be the work of decades, if not centuries.”
“Did they come from below? I mean, from wherever the Adversary is?”
“Yes. But, Kaylin, I do not believe they originated from there.”
* * *
Teela and Severn were gone. Kaylin wanted the Consort to wait, but she understood that the paths were now hostile terrain—not that they’d ever been anything but, to Kaylin. She didn’t give much for her own chances, because fighting waves of nausea was difficult enough; fighting Shadow-driven opponents at the same time didn’t even seem possible.
“I am here,” Hope said quietly. “You will not feel the dislocation in the same way. Even were I not, the Consort in theory controls this path, and she is with you.”
The Consort entered the portal, Ynpharion at her side and just one step behind.
Kaylin grimaced and followed, her hand on a dagger. Hope draped an arm across her shoulder, and the weight of that arm felt familiar. Spike, floating by her side, entered the meniscus—there was no other word for it—as she did.
* * *
The portal path was cold. Kaylin felt the chill as she inhaled and her nostrils closed. She blinked; the air was dry, but it felt like air. This was not a given in the small tunnel that usually existed between portals; sometimes it felt like she was trying to breathe water. She looked immediately to the Consort; the Lady’s breath rose in a desultory cloud. It wasn’t just Kaylin who felt the cold.
To the immediate left and right she could see the boundaries that defined the space they were now traversing; they looked like badly blown, opaque glass. Spike, floating above her shoulder, began to spin around an axis that was attached to his follow-Kaylin position. It was not a slow spin; he was an instant blur of motion.
Kaylin took a step back—which didn’t change his position with regard to either her shoulder or her face—as Spike became a miniature windstorm. “Spike, what are you doing?”
Spike could move in a blur of motion while speaking. “Apologies,” he said. “I cannot absorb and speak intelligently simultaneously.”
In other circumstances, she would have laughed. “What are you absorbing?”
“Structural filaments,” he replied in a sharper, higher pitch.
“Can I keep walking?”
“Yes. Running is not advised.”
The walls of the tunnel began to shift, the texture changing. To Kaylin’s eyes, it looked like they were melting.
“I think Spike thinks that the path you’ve opened goes to the wrong place,” she said to the Consort.
“Spike is concerned,” Hope agreed. “He does not believe
this is where you wish to go.”
“And you?”
“I am less certain. This is an old pathway, but inasmuch as such paths are, a fixed one. I believe its destination is very close to the exit the Consort expects. A larger shift would be noticed.”
“Lady?” It was Teela.
“Does Spike believe he can realign the path?”
“I’m not sure,” Kaylin replied. “He’s spinning so fast all I can hear when he tries to communicate is a very high-pitched whine.”
“What, exactly, is he doing?”
“Binding threads. I think.” Those threads were not visible to Kaylin’s eye, but she didn’t doubt him. She could doubt his ability to express his activity in Elantran, though. “If I had to guess, Spike is attempting to remove—from the interior—whatever is holding the path in the wrong shape.”
“That is what he attempts,” Hope said. “We are protected here for the moment; the entirety of the force appears to be external in nature. Chosen, look at what you perceive as walls. Do not move too quickly or you will leave my protective sphere.”
“Can you tell us how much of a diversion we’ll suffer if we leave?”
“Not without leaving you behind, for however short a period. Is it essential knowledge?”
Kaylin exhaled. “Yes. If we’re pushed away from the cavern, they intend to prevent our interference in the cavern itself. If we’re pushed farther in, we’re meant to land in the Adversary’s lap. The first implies that the Consort is important enough that they wish to preserve her. The latter implies that the Consort is irrelevant at best, and one of their targets at worst.”
“They would not dare,” Ynpharion snapped; he was almost quivering with outrage.
“Ynpharion.” As his name left the Consort’s lips, he stilled. “I do not believe it is necessary to send your familiar to, or through, the portal’s destination point.”
“It’s—”
“Assume that I am, in your best case, irrelevant.”
A flash of bright, searing light permeated the “wall” to Kaylin’s immediate right. Defensive formation shifted around the Consort; she remained at its heart.
“Spike asks that you continue to do what you’re doing,” Hope said quietly.
Kaylin stiffened. “We’re not doing anything.”
“He asks that your servant be encouraged to continue.”
Her shoulders sagged.
In the distance, slightly muffled, she heard the grim silence of Nightshade’s amusement.
* * *
Although light could be seen through the opaque, misshapen tunnel wall, nothing else made enough visual noise to permeate it. But the flare was a strobe of lightning that illuminated the witnesses. Only when it appeared for the third time did Kaylin realize they cast no shadows in its sustained bursts.
“I think Nightshade is wielding Meliannos,” she said.
“He is,” Teela replied, her own sword gleaming in her hand.
“Do not,” the Consort said, her voice much softer than her words, “attempt to go to his aid.”
“What is he fighting?” Teela asked, which was all of her reply.
“I think he wants me to shut up.”
“A sentiment with which I’m certain we can all identify.” Teela glanced at Severn. Severn shook his head.
“Where are the cohort?”
“They are not yet in the same place.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “Valliant, however, has found his way to the stairs that lead to the cavern, if I’m not mistaken. He is not stupid enough to take them.”
Mandoran might have been.
“And before you ask, no. I cannot tell you anything about the relationship of Nightshade’s current conflict to the progress of the cohort. In theory, he should not be able to track them or find them at all.”
“In theory?”
“We are attempting to intersect the path they’ll eventually take. And all evidence—admittedly not conclusive—implies that we are not the only ones who can. It’s possible Nightshade is attempting to follow the trail of those who cannot enter the portal itself.”
Yes.
“And something he’s encountered on the way requires the use of that sword? I’ve seen him wield that sword—and it never looked like this.”
“No. But you saw him wield the sword in an attempt to catch—and possibly kill—the Dragon outcaste. Had that encounter proceeded, you would have. And yes,” Teela added, voice softer, “it is very likely he has chosen to be reckless in his use of his sword.”
“He would not be the first today.”
“We did not have the time,” Teela countered as she glanced in the Consort’s direction. “They know we are coming. Ah, no, they expected that there would be some intervention. It is my guess that they expected the form of that intervention to be Nightshade’s, not ours—the pathway here has been diverted, but it has not been destroyed.”
Hope turned to the Consort. “Spike asks us to wait. Lord Nightshade’s work on the exterior has yielded results favorable to a safe arrival.”
A shudder of flashing light, blue and white and searing, caused Kaylin to raise both arms instinctively to shield her eyes and face.
Teela cursed, the Leontine low and guttural.
Chapter 21
There was a moment of silence accompanied by a lot of blinking before Hope said, “Now. Lady, it is safe to leave.”
“Will it remain safe?”
“I believe so.” He glanced at Kaylin.
Nightshade?
Silence.
Nightshade!
Severn shouldered Hope out of the way and caught her in one arm—the hand of which still gripped the blade of his very unusual weapon.
“I can’t—I can’t hear him! His voice is gone!”
Teela cursed in Aerian. “You would have to say that out loud,” she said with some heat. At Kaylin’s expression, she added, “Yes, I can keep my cohort out—but not when I’m desperately trying to track them and hold all of the threads of their current locations in my head!”
And Annarion was going to lose it.
“Just...breathe, damn it. Breathe. And do not do anything stupid. Is he dead?”
“I don’t know—I can’t hear him.”
Teela exhaled. So did the Consort. “If he were dead, you would know. There would be no question. I understand the panic,” she added in a somewhat less heated tone. “It’s the same panic we felt when the rest of us suddenly fell silent in the West March. But you would know—as we would have known—if that was the silence of death.”
“You were all pretty certain that if it wasn’t, it would be soon,” Kaylin pointed out.
“Inasmuch as Barrani have family ties similar to yours—yours personally,” Teela said, clarifying the statement, “the cohort are ours. Of course we were worried—and of course that worry would drive us to action. Nightshade’s attachment to his only surviving brother is almost a matter of legend; this much would be all but expected of him.”
“Did Annarion expect it?”
Teela winced. “No. He is trying to skip out of his qualifying exam now, and while we’ve pointed out that the fastest—and safest—way to reach his brother is to pass the test, he is not certain he has either that time or inclination.”
“This isn’t a normal exam. He can’t just walk out in the middle of it and tell the proctors he’ll be back later!”
“He is less concerned with completion of this test than he is with his brother’s survival. And were you more cautious, he would not be presented with this difficulty. He is willing—barely—to focus on the test at hand because you are with us and you have access to his brother that he does not.”
Kaylin opened her mouth and Hope laid a hand on her shoulder. “We must exit,” he said quietly. “Spike is uncertain how long stability will la
st; if our enemies are desperate there is a possibility that they could destroy the portal—which would leave us somewhat stranded.”
* * *
Kaylin stepped out of the portal’s exit free from the horrible nausea that usually accompanied such a transition. Her legs were not shaking; her knees were not weak. She might have walked through an open door into another room. The floor beneath her feet was solid stone. She had expected the uneven rock of a large cavern. This was clearly worked stone—smooth and flat.
Her arms ached as her skin reacted to the presence of magic; the marks on her arms were glowing, as they had been since she had approached the High Seat. But the glow was gentle and luminous. On someone else, it would have looked good. Hope did not immediately shift into his portable form; he continued to resemble the ideal of an Aerian. This was not a good sign.
“Is this where we were supposed to be?” Kaylin asked the Consort.
“It is,” a familiar voice replied. “You are late, however.” It was Lord Evarrim. Of course it was. He stepped out of the shadows as he approached, and tendered the Consort a deep, a perfect, bow. “I have attempted to remain inconspicuous while keeping watch. So far, none of the supplicants have emerged to face their final trial.”
“And you’ve encountered no other difficulties?” the Consort asked.
Silence.
Kaylin had never trusted Evarrim. She didn’t trust him now. But she had come, however grudgingly, to understand that he would never harm the Consort; that he was willing—as Ynpharion was willing—to die in her defense. As she turned to examine him, she saw two things. One: the gem in his tiara was cracked. Two, his clothing—and it was Barrani cloth—was blackened in places.
“No difficulty that was insurmountable, Lady.” His glance caught on the flat of Teela’s sword, the blue of his eyes shifting to a lighter color. He was surprised.
“Are these halls safe?”
“They are momentarily safe,” Evarrim replied. “They are not, in my opinion, secure. Your suspicions about the activities of certain members of the Court have been proved substantially correct.”
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