It is not, Chosen.
Chosen.
It is not a path that we can follow. To even approach it is costly, and I cannot remain stable for long. But you are going the wrong way. Close your eyes. Close them, and your world will reassert itself. Move forward, Chosen. It would kill Teela to lose you.
She opened her eyes. “Sedarias? Wait! Sedarias—we’re here because of you! What happened? Where are you?”
But there was silence. Kaylin waited for an answer on her hands and knees, but the voice did not come again. And after what felt like an hour, she closed her eyes and began to move forward, pushing against the viscous air.
* * *
Sedarias had not lied. Kaylin managed to crawl her way across the shifting nothing, and that nothing suddenly resolved itself into wood that was cool but not cold beneath her hands. Her palms were wet; her arms were shaking.
“Kaylin,” Bellusdeo said, her voice accented with worry.
“Give me a second,” Kaylin replied, struggling to maintain her grip on whatever it was she’d put in her stomach hours ago. She took several deep breaths, filling her lungs in an attempt to drive back the taste of salt and water that almost flooded her mouth.
“This is why you don’t like portals.”
“No—this is worse.” She took deep, even breaths while she waited for the nausea to pass.
“Lord Kaylin.”
Great. What she really wanted was to throw up on the feet of the Lord of the West March. At least she assumed they were his feet. She didn’t lift her head to find out. As if he could hear that thought—and damn the True Name, he probably could—he crouched down.
“I’m not good with portals or certain types of magic,” she told him. “Just give me a couple more minutes. We have a problem.”
“More of a problem?” Bellusdeo asked.
“Yes. I think Teela’s friends are trapped in the portal space.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Kaylin was seated at an otherwise unoccupied dining table. It was far too large for four people—the fourth being the Avatar of Orbaranne—but much more modest in size than any table that had appeared before the delegation from the High Court. Food had been laid out, but not even the lessons of early years of near starvation could compel Kaylin to eat any of it.
The warmth of concern on the Lord of the West March’s face had been obliterated by an entirely different type of concern. “You are certain?”
“I’d bet my own money on it.”
He raised a brow.
“Yes, I’m certain.”
“All of them?”
“At least one of them. I almost got lost between the opening of the portal and the dining hall.”
“Pardon?” he asked, as Bellusdeo said, “How did you managethat?” The Barrani Lord and the Dragon eyed each other warily.
“The usual way. I entered the portal.” She exhaled, still feeling shaky. “Portals, for me, have almost never been like stepping through a door. I think that’s the way they work for most people. I don’t know if it’s the marks of the Chosen, or if I’m just naturally incompatible. When I step through a portal, in the best case, I step into a long tunnel. Often a long, ugly tunnel with a very unstable floor. At the end of the tunnel, however long and punishing it is, there’s the other side of the portal, and the exit. I just have to get there.” Sometimes by crawling.
“And this time?” the Hallionne asked. Both Bellusdeo and the Lord of the West March looked at her, but she failed to notice. Or failed to react.
“I don’t know how to describe it. But you can see what I’m thinking of, can’t you?”
“It is very disjointed.”
“So are portals.” Kaylin exhaled. “I think we’re here to find Teela’s friends, and I’m almost certain that the person who spoke to me—”
