He whirred more frenetically. “Beacon. But...a beacon is supposed to draw people to it, no?”
“Not necessarily,” Teela replied.
“I believe that the compromise of the Tower was not complete—but this warning is the type that would persist in the absence of architectural aid. It is possible that it is not new—but that you are incapable of hearing its cries. You are not architects.”
“That’s the best-case scenario,” Terrano muttered.
“If you have an opinion, share it.”
“It’s either something that went off on contingency during the first war, or it’s something that is more recent. It would be best for us if it was recent, but... I wasn’t here, and we have no way of confirming it, one way or the other. Unless Spike does?”
Spike whirred. A lot. “I do not believe this test your companions intend to undertake will be safe.”
“Of course it’s not safe,” Kaylin began.
“It will be less safe than it was. I do not believe the Tower believes that it can continue to contain the threat.”
Silence.
Kaylin’s marks began to glow. They were a gold, but blue-edged, the combination unusual. “So...all we have to do is destroy whatever the Tower’s trapped.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Terrano said in Elantran.
“Our agreement with the Consort—” Sedarias began.
“Was tofree the names. Not destroy the Adversary under our feet. You’ve spent all your time in either Alsanis—for centuries—or here, with Kaylin and Helen. The only time you’ve seen any of the possibilities of being in neither place, we were on the run in the outlands. But you saw what Spike was capable of there. You saw what was chasing us. Do you honestly think you could just stand andfight?
“I’ve been out there since Alsanis let us leave. I’ve seen things you can’t imagine. I’ve fought things you can’t imagine—and I survived. But barely. There are things you won’t understand how to fight. You won’t know how to stand your ground—because this,” he said, stomping the nearest flat stone for emphasis, “willnot help you. It’s barely real.
“If Spike is right, you’re going to be facing something that mostly lives elsewhere, or several other elsewheres, at the same time he lives here. It’s like Helen’s example with Spike—you’re looking through a window. Or an arrow slit. You think that what you see is all there istosee. And frankly,” he added, attempting to lower his voice, “you haven’t even approached the arrow slit yet. None of us have. I don’t want to be discouraging, but...it’s like taking a dinner fork to a battlefield.”
Mandoran grimaced. “I think we’re about to see more than any of the rest of our kin can.”
“That doesn’t mean you can fight it.”
“If not us, then who?” Mandoran massaged the back of his neck as he bent his head; he didn’t like to be serious. But he was closest, in personality, to Terrano. “We know what you taught them. Sedarias is Mellarionne. She has some idea of how that teaching might have been extended. Weallbelieve—even the Consort—that the Test of Name has been compromised somehow. If we don’t do this, it’s going to get worse. That’s it. That’s the future.
“I know you don’t really consider the High Halls home. None of us do.” Sedarias cleared her throat. “Fine. Most of us don’t. At least half. But...we’re still Barrani. We stillwantto be Barrani.”
Terrano said nothing.
“The Lake ishere. If the creature beneath the High Halls breaks free somehow, there will benoLake. No Lake and no Barrani. Even if I hated every living member of the Court, I don’t hate theideaof my people.”
“You sound like Annarion.” Clearly this was not meant as a compliment.
“What did you expect? You left. He stayed. Of course he’s going to have undue influence. Look, there’s a place for you if you want to come back. Some of us have missed you.”
“Some.”
“Some.”
Terrano shuddered in place, a wave of exaggerated motion cresting through his body. He bent his head for one long beat, and when he raised it, his eyes were blue. But they were a normal variant of Barrani blue, and they possessed both pupils and white bits. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.”
Mandoran relaxed, as well.
“But...even if I wanted to, I can’t come home. I could live with you, yes—but not the way I once did. I can’thearyou. I never thought I’d miss the noise.”
“Noise?” Sedarias arched a brow. But as if to soften the edge of the single word, she also raised an arm. The gesture was pure Sedarias—or at least Sedarias with the cohort. There was welcome in it, warmth, but also command. And Terrano, like the rest of the cohort, obeyed Sedarias. He walked toward her, his feet on the ground, and she enfolded him tightly in a hug that looked like it might never end.
