“Wedon’t, no. I do. Your task was similar, in the end, to my final test. More than that, Lord Kaylin, you will not say.”
“So...you want me to break the unwritten law and talk about what I saw, but not all of it, and only the relevant parts.”
“That is how we always discuss matters of import,” the Consort replied. Her tone was cool; her eyes had shaded to blue.
“Fine. We were—Severn and I—trying to get out of the Tower. As far as I can tell, no matter what else the Tower does or does not do, there’s only one way out, and the Shadow sits in front of it.” She inhaled, held breath for a few long seconds and exhaled, trying to loosen the line of her shoulders, which had bunched up almost to her ears.
“I had a medallion given to me by Sanabalis.” At the Arkon’s wince, she quickly said, “Lord Sanabalis. It’s not this one,” she added.
“I should hope not,” the Arkon said, his voice as chilly as the Consort’s, his eyes more orange.
“It helped. But the Shadow is...” She fell silent. “I can only tell you what I saw and what I heard. The Shadow exists at the base of the Tower—and my guess is that anyone who makes it that far sees the same thing, in the end. But...”
Teela had folded her arms; her lips were one thin, compressed line.
“But every single person who has ever taken—and failed—that test remainswiththe Shadow itself. The Shadow speaks, and its voice is...compelling. It doesn’t look human, doesn’t look Barrani.”
“Are they alive?” Annarion asked. Of course it was Annarion.
“Alive?”
“Those that failed the test. Are they alive, somehow?”
Kaylin shook her head. “I don’t think so. But they’re not absent, either. They have voices, and...” She swallowed. “I don’t know if Barrani have any concept of heaven or hell. But they don’t really need it, when they have that Shadow sitting in wait. If the Barrani who are trapped there—and have been for centuries, as far as I can tell—aren’t dead, they’re still somehowaware. And they’ve been in a hell of that Shadow’s devising since the moment they failed the test.” She swallowed and looked to the Consort, who nodded.
“The High Lord and the Lady hear their cries. They can hear them from the moment they ascend to the seats of the High Court. They know what the High Halls jails.”
“It is the most difficult part of the burden of rulership,” the Consort said quietly.
“The reminder of failure?” Sedarias asked.
“Were they truly dead,” the Consort continued, as if Sedarias had not spoken, “it would not be so disturbing. But their names—all of their names—are forever lost to us. They do not and have not returned to the Lake, which gives rise to Barrani life. And while the Shadow remains, they will not.”
The Arkon rumbled. Literally. The entire table seemed to shake.
Bellusdeo immediately turned to him. “What do you know of this, Lannagaros?”
“You are aware—more than any of us—of the Shadows at war. You are aware of the cost of loss. Historically, our peoples have been enemies, and the result of that enmity has been disastrous. But it is nothing to the cost of the war with Shadows. There is no end to the battle; there is no peace that endures.
“The High Halls has not always been the seat of Barrani power—Barrani government, if you will. But the building itself has been some part of what has now become Elantra for almost as long as the wars between our kind existed.”
The Consort raised a brow.
“I do not know what your history documents, Lady, and I do not know if our suppositions have been shared. I will not, however, stoop to say that they are inaccurate.”
She inclined her chin, looking—suddenly—every inch an empress. She said nothing, however.
“But it is our belief that the first of the wars that encompassed all of our kind started, in the end, because of that Shadow. It has long attempted to prey upon our two peoples, with greater and lesser success, but it was not contained in the same fashion it is now contained. The end of the first war saw an end to the Shadow’s freedom to move, but the current containment saw the destruction of most of the building that preceded the High Halls.”
Helen said, “Only the Tower remains.”
Everyone in the room turned toward the Avatar, who actually seemed to redden. “It is not well-known, Arkon. And my own history, my own records of that time, were much damaged in the interim.” She didn’t say by who, but it was irrelevant to most of them. Not to Kaylin, who would not otherwise be living here. “It was understood that the building itself reorganized the power inherent in its structure to contain the Shadow. Entry was not forbidden, but the Tower itself could not prevent its prisoner from harming those who did enter.”
“Was it a building like you?” Kaylin asked.
“Inasmuch as sentient buildings are like a race, yes—but you have come to understand that while we share some functionality, we are all individuals. It is not unlike the mobile races; they share the general conditions of their race, but are otherwise unique.” She turned to the Arkon and the Consort. “My apologies for interrupting.”
“If all interruptions were so relevant,” the Arkon said in his grave voice, “I would welcome interruption. For my own part, feel free to interrupt if you feel you have any information that we lack.” His tone made clear that he was certain she did.
