“Yes, but...where is here, to you?”
“You’re confusing him, dear,” Helen said. “But his answer is largely correct. He is notRavellon. He does not exist in many places at once. He occupies spaces you cannot perceive, but they are all here.” She paused. It was a thinking pause. “Think of a small hole in a wall. You can see very little through it from where you stand—but you do not doubt that what you see is only a part of what could be seen, if you were on the other side of that wall. What you see of Spike is the eye through that keyhole. What I see is what you might see if you were on my side of the wall.”
“And the cohort?”
“It varies. They are standing by a window in the same wall. They can, with a little effort, find and look through a window. You can’t, in this analogy. You’re too short. Terrano, on the other hand, is standing in the doorway.”
“And Spike can see what I see?”
“Yes. He can see what you see. He can see what you can’t see. For Spike, the wall in this analogy doesn’t exist. His difficulty is comprehending what you yourself can or cannot see. He understands that there is a wall, a separation, but the wall is entirely invisible to him. He sees that you are Chosen. You understand that that’s what you’recalledby people who see or recognize the marks. But it’s as if the sign of the Chosen is attached in its entirety to the back of your head. It’s there, it’s real, but you can’t, without effort or the right equipment—mirrors, for instance—see it yourself.
“He understands that you do not perceive what he perceives. And in his stay here, he has begun to painstakingly construct a sense of where the walls in my analogy are. But it is imperfect; it is hard not to see something when it is staring you in the face. To be fair to you, he doesn’t understand exactly how you perceive him, either. My attempt to explain has fallen short several times. Spike, in his fashion, is learning what the cohort is learning: how to exist in your world. But Spike doesn’t have even their experience as a guide.
“And this is relevant to all of the questions asked.”
“Good. I was wondering,” Teela said. Her eyes were a shade of blue-green that was almost normal. “Not that I don’t enjoy watching Kaylin splutter on occasion, but Bellusdeo is definitely getting irritated.”
This was true, except for the “getting” part, which implied a change of state. Bellusdeo had been sharp as a perfect blade all morning.
“Spike assumes that because you are Chosen, you can see what he calls living names, and what you call True Names.”
Everyone was now staring at Spike. This included Kaylin.
“I have tried to explain that he is mistaken, but Terrano isn’t as certain.”
“Terrano was talking?”
“He was speaking to us, yes. He is notgoodat it—”
“Thanks.”
“—but his sense of what you can or cannot see is not my sense of it; I know what you know, and act on that. Spike’s contention is that True Names are True Words.”
“Because they are,” Kaylin said, nodding.
“He does not see the base difference between them.”
“True Names are necessary—”
“But, Kaylin, they aren’t. He cannot see those words in Terrano, and Terrano is demonstrably alive. He can’t see them in Severn, either.”
“Severn’s mortal, like me.”
“Very unlike you, in Spike’s opinion. Regardless, he believes that you can see the names if you try. And so we come back to the question of how you took Ynpharion’s name.”
Teela said nothing, loudly. The cohort said nothing verbal, but their eyes darkened to a man.
“Yes, I knew,” Teela said, out loud.
Sedarias frowned and turned to Kaylin. “Did you inform Spike of this?”
“Not intentionally. But I don’t intentionally inform Helen of anything, either—she can hear what I’m thinking.”
“Given your facial expressions, one doesn’t need to be able to read thoughts to know what you’re thinking,” Sedarias snapped. “Can you see our names now?”
“No.”
Spike whirred.
