Michelle Sagara – Cast in Flame (страница 21)
“It’s my belief—and I am not a sage—that they could speak to us and we could not hear them unless they chose a form with which we could interact. We could not see them, unless they chose to confine themselves or diminish themselves in a similar fashion; we were too slender, too fixed, and too small.”
“I’m guessing that’s not the popular view among the Barrani.”
“It is accepted as probable history. Popularity has very little to do with it. The earliest of our kin were not concerned with keeping records for their possible descendants.”
“Did they have descendants in the traditional sense? Like, children, grandchildren, that kind of thing?”
“Not most of them, no.”
“Then why are they even called Barrani?”
“Because we lived in the cities they built. They were not like us, Kaylin. You hate Arcanists. You wouldn’t have a word for what the ancestors were. But it is believed that they were not possessed of single, true names, but complex phrases. When the ancestors were bored, they had options to alleviate that boredom that are undreamed of by the rest of my people now.
“One of them historically involved destroying the rest of us.” At Kaylin’s sharp intake of breath, Teela shrugged. “They did not see it as destruction; they wished to take control of the words that gave us life, and to remake them in some fashion.
“They attempted to do the same with the Dragons; if I am fair, they attempted to relieve the Dragons of their names first.” Teela began to walk again, taking the hall to the right because the hall to the left ended abruptly in a lot of wall.
“I’m going to assume that failed, since we still have Dragons.”
“It was not notably successful, no. It caused some difficulties with the Dragons.”
“Were there Dragon ancestors, as well?”
“You will have to ask your Arkon,” was the stiff reply. “The Barrani are not keepers of Dragon lore, except where it involves war.”
Kaylin was silent for another long beat. Dragons did not require names to wake. They didn’t require names to live. They just required true names to become their dual selves. She decided that if Teela didn’t know this, she wasn’t about to inform her. Then again, Nightshade was probably listening. Ugh.
He was diplomatic; if he heard, he said nothing.
“If they were that dangerous, how did you kill them?”
“We formed the war bands,” she replied. When Kaylin failed to respond immediately, she added, “You didn’t think they were created just to fight Dragons, did you?”
Since the answer was more or less yes, Kaylin said nothing. “We don’t have a war band here.”
“No. You said there were two?”
Kaylin nodded.
“I’d really like to strangle Nightshade.”
“How would Annarion feel about that?”
“At the moment? Sanguine. He doesn’t, on the other hand, feel it would be easy.”
“Easier than meeting the ancestors head on?”
“Definitely easier than that.” Teela stopped. “Corporal? The halls have not materially changed since we entered them, and I dislike being roped together like human foundlings.”
Severn nodded and unwound his chain. To Kaylin’s surprise, he also released her. He didn’t sheathe his weapons, and the visible scar on his jaw looked whiter and more pronounced than it usually did. The talk of Barrani ancestors had clearly raised the stakes.
Not that they were insignificant to begin with.
Nightshade, are the ancestors still guarding the Long Halls?
Yes.
Are they awake?
I am uncertain, Kaylin. The Castle is in flux.
Where are you, damn it?
I am at the heart of my castle.
And where is Annarion?
He is also at the heart of the Castle. Before you ask, we are not in the same place.
Kaylin hated magical buildings with a loud, multisyllabic passion. Can you come to us?
Not safely—for you. I am attempting to keep the Castle’s defenses at a minimum.
Given the existence of Barrani that even Teela feared, this didn’t seem like a great idea.
If the Castle’s defenses are fully mobilized, it will attempt to exterminate all intruders. This is unlikely to harm the ancestors. It is, however, likely to damage you.
You don’t seem that concerned.
No? I am unlikely to perish here, no matter what the outcome. You, however, are not guaranteed to survive. Do not look for me; look for the runes of the Ancients. It is there you will be safest.
She was silent for a beat, watching Teela’s tense back. The runes are in the heart of the Castle. We’ll need to enter the Long Halls to even get there.
In theory, yes. But remember: you are in a fief Tower now; geography bends to the dictate of will.
The dimly lit hall seemed to go on forever, something Kaylin definitely didn’t remember from her first visit to the statuary. She had been by Nightshade’s side while traversing the halls; he had made it clear that she was not to leave him if she wished to move safely within the Castle.
This wasn’t something Tara, the Avatar of the Tower of Tiamaris, had ever enforced. But Tara was awake, in a way that the Avatar of Castle Nightshade wasn’t. She’d asked the fieflord once why his castle didn’t speak directly to her; he’d replied that living within the folds of a sentient being was not one of his life’s ambitions.
What his actual life’s ambitions were, he’d never made clear.
“Teela, is Annarion talking to anyone? I don’t think he’s speaking to his brother at the moment.”
Teela replied without looking back. “I believe he is speaking with...something. He isn’t speaking a language I recognize or understand.”
“Would he know if he was speaking to your ancestors?”
“We prefer the ancestors, if we must speak about them at all; it’s not considered wise.”
“Probably wiser than walking into a sleeping, sentient building that’s having nightmares.”
“If the building hears us, it is not guaranteed to end our lives.”
“It might help preserve them,” Kaylin replied.
“No, Kaylin. Your Tara—and I am making assumptions on hearsay, because I have not visited the Tower in Tiamaris—was, in some ways, emotionally corrupt. You cannot assume that the other Avatars are likewise compromised. If their mission was to halt shadow and its contamination, we are—in the best case—irrelevant.”
Squawk.
“Can you hear Annarion?” Kaylin asked the small dragon.
Squawk.
“...Can he hear you?”
The small beast tilted his head to the left. All the way to the left; by the time he stopped, it was almost upside down, which made it hard to meet his eyes. He whiffled.
She would have pursued the line of questioning, but the ground beneath her feet—stone, and at that, rather plain stone—began to rumble. She looked to Teela and Severn; they’d both stopped walking. They hadn’t stopped moving; they were now on alert, and they scanned the halls and the walls that enclosed it, hoping to see danger before it dropped on their heads.
The small dragon wilted. So did Kaylin, as the walls to the left and right began to recede. The stone beneath their feet didn’t, but it expanded to fill the growing space. The ceiling above, however, faded from sight. In its place was something that didn’t resemble normal architecture in any way.
It looked a lot like sky, if sky were full of storm clouds and edged in flashes of luminescent light that refused to remain one color. The clouds were gray-green; they weren’t the roiling darkness of the shadows at the heart of the fiefs. Kaylin frowned; something was wrong—if you didn’t count the disappearance of ceiling and the sudden enlargement of the halls themselves.
The clouds weren’t moving; they were fixed. She revised her opinion of their composition; they looked like they were made of stone. She hoped there were support beams somewhere that kept them off the ground.
“Forward or back?” Teela asked, dragging Kaylin’s attention away from the heights.