She suspected that this would be different.
She didn’t understand Shadow. Didn’t understand how it worked. Didn’t understand why some—like Gilbert—hadwords at their core and some didn’t. She thought Spike might, but didn’t give much for her chances of understanding his explanation at the moment. He was busy; she could see that. One tendril—only one—was wrapped around the base of this pillar. But she could see tendrils snake out across her lidded vision.
And she didn’t ask what he was doing with them, either. She looked at the diminished word in her hand. The color itself was faded; instead of gold, it looked like aged silver—silver that hadn’t been properly cleaned. Evidence of tarnish existed in every bend and on the interior of every curve.
It wasn’t tarnish, of course; it was a metaphor.
But it was a metaphor, suddenly, that she could work with. Housework had never been her strength, although Caitlin had tried to teach her how to both clean and set up a schedule that enforced cleaning. Growing up, clean house was of vastly less import than shelter at night, and shelter had been a moving target.
Even in her own home, silver was nowhere in great abundance, and what there was of it had been Caitlin’s gift: teapot, tray, two very large spoons. They had all pretty much become gray-black, and had been tucked away in a chest beneath the bed until an Arcane bomb had destroyed her home. She had treasured them because they had come from Caitlin at the start of her life in Elantra. Treasured, however, didn’t mean they had to be cleaned and polished—just kept.
She began to clean this particular tarnished surface. Her sleeve—the one that hadn’t been reduced to ash—was long, but unbuttoned; she used the silk as an awkwardly placed rag, because it was better than nothing. As she rubbed the darker surfaces, the patina of clean silver was exposed. She wasn’t certain that it would ever be golden again—not as it had been. Not if it didn’t return to the Lake.
But when she looked up, she could see that the pillar was no longer a pillar, that it had dwindled into a shape that was almost Barrani. There wasn’troominside that pillar for all of the parts it contained to swim and move; they were being compressed into more or less the proper places. She could still see them, but it didn’t make her want to lose her lunch.
The Lady asks that you continue whatever it is you’re doing, Ynpharion said.
Kaylin nodded. She didn’t have the name of this particular Feral in any binding way, but she wascarryingit. She hesitated, and then she dropped the word itself onto her exposed skin—the back of her left hand. It stuck there.
She turned, looked toward the next faint word and began to run.
Chapter 27
Between one step and the next, the ground changed. What had been fleshy and warm became harder, although the uneven shape it retained made running more difficult. Kaylin couldn’t decide if this were a good thing or a bad thing.
Spike made clear it was the latter.
Tell Teela, Kaylin told Severn,to tell the cohort todo something. I don’t know what’s happening—but Spike says things are getting worse.She hesitated.The Ferals are using their own names—depleting them somehow—tobethe Adversary’s anchors. They’re in a state that allows some physical connection to the Adversary’s native power; they’re usingtheir ownnames to maintain that connection somehow. The cohort can see what’s being done. And it’s possible the cohort could do what the Ferals here are doing. But the cohort had centuries to achieve the ability. The Ferals didn’t. Everything they’re now doing they learned from the Adversary. And if they can use their own names, there’s a good chance they can use other names. Like the ones in Orbaranne or...
The Lake.
The Lake,Kaylin agreed.Spike says the Adversary can’t use the names it hasn’t released. It can’t use their power. But these Ferals probably could. The Barrani attacked Orbaranne because she contained exactly those words. If the Adversary is somehow linked to these Barrani—these Ferals—it will finally have tools to use that power outside of its cage. I’m trying to break the conduits. But the power they’re absorbing from Shadow and their own names is somehow related to what the non-Feral Barrani are doing.
How?
I don’t know. Spike thinks An’Mellarionne and crew are trying to summon a lot of Shadow.She stumbled.Or maybe they’re trying to summon the Adversary directly.
They wouldn’t dare.
Not if they knew that’s what they’d get, no. The Adversary doesn’t want the Ferals dead. If they’re dead, there’s nothing to convert words to power.
But killing the Feral had done no good. It had made things worse. She had to think, and thinking while running and squinting—or its analogy—was difficult. This time, when she reached the next pillar, there was no hesitation, no squeamishness, at all. She shoved her left hand into the miasma that was—on some other plane—a body, and she easily grasped the name. Like the first, it was shadowed and half-blackened; like the first, it was wet and covered in something like red mucus. The latter, she swept away; the former, she left. Using the back of her hand as a container, she ran to the next word, the next pillar, leaving something that appeared to be human shaped—but not human—behind.
She was surprised to see Terrano when he appeared directly in front of her. She was almost surprised when she ranthroughhim, while attempting to slow down enough to avoid a collision. He grimaced.
“Don’t stop. Go.Go.” Reorienting himself, he followed. Kaylin noticed that he didn’t appear to have feet, but that was all she noticed; she focused on the next pillar.
“What are the rest of you doing?” she demanded as she retrieved a third name, a third word.
“In my opinion?”
That wasn’t good. “You see anyone else here? Besides me?” She reached the next pillar and used it to break her stride.
“Sedarias wanted me to tell you to keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. She’d tell you herself, but she’s a bit occupied.”
“And they couldn’t send Mandoran?”
“He’s more than a bit occupied.”
