“You can’t see it?”
“I can see a very dense fog. I can’t see Ynpharion, either; I don’t know how far into the room he walked, but there’s not even a hint of his back.” At this point, she might have poked Hope, but Hope wasn’t sitting on her shoulder, and at his current size, she had no desire to have him there. She still turned to him. “Can you see Spike?”
“Yes.”
“And the fog?”
“That,” Hope replied, “is Spike.”
Kaylin exhaled. “Can you see Teela?”
“Not easily, no. Before you ask, she is at the far end of what was once one of the internal rooms that this suite contained. Spike has dimmed visibility; it is an attempt to provide both cover and defense. It should not affect anyone but you.” He paused, and then added, “And those who might be in service to the Adversary below.”
“I’mnot in service to the Adversary, andIcan’t see.”
“Yes. That is unfortunate. Spike apologizes; your vision and sensory awareness are due to the fact that he is attached to you in a visceral and inseparable way. You are, in part, perceiving the effects of what he is doing in a way the rest of your companions would not. With the possible exception of the cohort.
“It is an interference, however, that would diminish the effectiveness of beings who are not entirely tied to your plane of existence.”
Kaylin turned to the Consort, who was waiting. “It’s safe,” she said, “to enter. But... I’d appreciate it if you stayed close enough that I can still see you.”
The room was a great room; the Consort explained that it was meant for public entertaining, inasmuch as the public was allowed into the interior. Smaller rooms could not contain the guards and aides that people of import brought with them as a matter of course.
The Consort’s voice carried. The sounds of Teela and Severn fighting whatever it was they were fighting did not. But a sudden burst of light cleared some of the fog from the air—and at this point, Kaylin was worried that this would be a bad thing. For Spike.
The floors in this room were carpeted or covered, but they were as uneven as the marble in the entryway. Kaylin wasn’t certain if this was due to Hope’s intervention, but she trusted the pitted floor to remain solid beneath their collective feet.
And it did. But solidity did not apparently make much difference to the arms—or tentacles—that suddenly burst through it. Marble did not crack or shatter. Hope inhaled and exhaled as Kaylin’s knife passed through them.
“I would advise you to close your eyes,” her familiar said. “I will guide you, but...these manifestations gain strength through your focus.”
“What does that even mean?” Kaylin demanded as the tentacles froze and began to shrivel.
“It means that if you believe in them,” the Consort said softly, “they will grow solid enough to destroy you. They are not real; they are illusions that are meant to invoke fear. The greater the fear, the greater the power they exert.” Her voice contained no fear at all.
“You’ve seen these before?”
“Yes, although infrequently. It is very, very unusual to see them encroach so early.”
“Early?”
“It is generally on the way to the prison that they manifest, if they manifest at all.” She sounded almost bored. Kaylin was certain she couldn’t be, and was reminded that Barrani were skilled liars.
Kaylin, Severn said.Teela believes the Consort will now be safe if she approaches.
How’s Teela?
Her eyes are indigo, but narrow enough it’s hard to tell.
And the cohort?
I am not asking her about the cohort right now. She’s like a very thin, very brittle surface over a very terrible death—and anything could break it. If you still dislike spiders, this is probably not going to be your day.
Shadow spiders?
Larger, but yes, essentially. They had more eyes than legs, and one of them had mouths on the ends of its front feet. They’re all dead; they’ve dissolved. Spike is with us, but he’s grown in size and appears to have planted himself into the door frame.
The doorways here are solid stone.
