“What information?”
“Records,” Hope replied, shrugging slightly. “But he cannot access external information—which he claims exists—for obvious reasons. It is buried or frozen inRavellon.” Hope stopped speaking and turned to glance over his shoulder. His wings rose; Kaylin recognized the rigidity of the lines. She’d seen Aerian wings break arms—someone else’s—in her time on the force.
“Spike asks for the aid of your companions.”
“Is the floor safe to walk across now?”
“The contaminant has been compressed into one location. It is not, however, a location that can be avoided if you wish to meet your companions.”
“At the rate they’re going, we could spend two weeks magically rebuilding every room in this suite, and we’d still get there before they did.” Kaylin then turned to Teela. “Spike is having a bit of a problem with the Shadow equivalent of hired thugs, and he wants our help.”
“That is not what I said,” Spike told her.
Kaylin didn’t bother to repeat that phrase, because Teela, sword in hand, practically leaped the distance between the patch of floor they’d occupied and the distant doors. She was Barrani; she didn’t have wings. But for a moment, sheflew. And when she landed—lightly, on both feet, bending slightly into her knees to balance her returning weight—the runes on the flat of her blade flashed a startling blue-white, and a streak of crackling light, of lightning, flew forward into the doors.
The doors opened. And smoldered.
Teela was through them before anyone but Hope had any chance of catching up.
Severn did not fly through the air; he sprinted, weapons in hand. Hope, however, didn’t follow. “No,” the familiar said, as if he could read her thoughts while in this form. “He left you—all of you—to me. He is not as well armed as Teela; he is far better armed than any of the rest of you. You have the marks of the Chosen, but you have failed to understand them. Your mastery therefore cannot turn their power into weapons meant for this type of conflict.” As he spoke, he gestured, and his wings began to fold.
A familiar sphere enveloped them all. “It would be best,” he continued, “not to tarry.”
Kaylin, however, turned to the Consort, whose eyes were a darker shade of blue. Again. “Do the swords always do that?”
“No, Lord Kaylin. Theycan, but there is a cost to the power and its use. It has been many, many years since I last saw that sword invoked.”
Many indeed.It was not Ynpharion. Silent until now, Lord Nightshade finally joined the forefront of her thoughts.Did you think that the swords were entirely for show? Did you think them like medals or crowns, an indication of the importance of the person who wielded them?
I thought they were meant to killDragons.
They were. One could say they are. Dragons generally prefer to scorch everything from their superior advantage of height; if the swords could not somehow bring them down to earth, they would not be useful. But An’Teela is being reckless.
What does the Consort mean about cost?
Think, was his impatient reply.If you were given one of the three—Ah, no. If Severn was given one of the three, there is no possible way that he could invoke the blade’s power. I believe there is some chanceyoucould—if you could wield a great sword. Or even a long sword.
I can’t.
No. But you are Chosen. If you could not effectively wield the weapon as a weapon, I believe you could invoke the...other abilities it contains. Most of my kin might claim the sword as the symbol of power it is—but they could notwieldit as it was meant to be wielded. Teela earned that blade in the final war, because she could. You have never seen Teela wield that sword; you have, perhaps, seen her carry it. You will see her wield it today.
You said that was reckless.
Ah, a misunderstanding. It is reckless to invoke its powerat this moment. There is very little chance that those powers will not be necessary today. An’Teela knows this. She is worried for her friends.
She’s always worried. She worries about everything. And she bites your head off if you worry about her.
I do not worry about Teela in the same fashion you—foolishly, in my opinion—do.
No, Kaylin thought with a flash of insight.You’re worried about Annarion.
Not, apparently, as worried as An’Teela is, given her use of the sword.
He was lying. His words came to her as if the sentence were being spoken by multiple voices—but all of them were Nightshade’s. They overlapped and the dissonance in the meshed sound made Kaylin grind her teeth. This lie she could accept: hewasworried about Annarion. He’d been worried about Annarion since his younger brother had arrived in Elantra.
But this was different, felt different. Kaylin sucked in air so sharply the sound could have cut.Do not eventhinkof coming here! You’re outcaste!
Silence. In a slightly less amused tone, Nightshade said,You are becoming more sensitive to nuance, Lord Kaylin.Yes, I am outcaste. No, the High Halls is not safe for me. But if I understand anything that has happened—and I admit that your Helen defeats me—it is even less safe for Annarion.
