“That is true.” The doors to the mirror room faded. Standing beside the rounded lip of the pool’s circumference was the Avatar of the Tower. She was not wearing gardening clothing; her robes were a long, loose drape of pale ivory and green. Her eyes, as she turned them toward her lord and his approaching guests, were obsidian.
“Bellusdeo was controlled by Shadow for—actually, I don’t know how long it was, objectively speaking. Maggaron was controlled in a similar fashion. They’re not controlled now. And Spike seemed happy not to be enslaved.”
“And you now believe that we could somehow free all of Shadow?” Tara’s tone did not encourage optimism.
“I just think—”
“You can barely survive one of the individual Shadows when it crosses the inner boundary,” Tiamaris cut in. “If what you believe is true—and I am willing to lend it credence—it is functionally irrelevant. To get to the enslaver, you would have to fight through the slaves—and the slaves are more dangerous than you could ever hope to be.”
“That is not entirely true,” Tara then said, her voice gentling. “She is Chosen.”
“You have never explained what that means, in a practical sense.”
“We do not fully understand it ourselves, my Lord.” She then looked at the still surface of clear water. Her eyes lost the look and texture of black stone as the water began to move. “But it is true that the Barrani—the High Court, the High Lords, and perhaps Candallar himself—don’t understand the Shadows, either.”
“They expected Spike to be of use. And he probably was, at least briefly. He’s like a portable memory crystal and portable Records rolled into one, but he...” Kaylin hesitated, trying to choose the right words, or any words at all, to describe what had occurred when the cohort had fled into the outlands.
Spike had not been small, portable or harmless there.
She didn’t need to find the right words in Tiamaris. Tara could see what she was attempting to squeeze into Elantran with so much difficulty. The mirror responded to Tara, and the image of that giant Spike—with a Kaylin-size Barrani, probably Sedarias, by his side—appeared.
“In the High Halls, as well?”
“In the Tower of testing, yes. He looked different in the Tower, but he was about the same size.”
“He is dangerous.”
“He didn’t—”
“He could meld with you so completely he could not be detected by the Tower of Candallar. And he could become this, as well. Doing so in the outlands is impressive, but it is not dangerous in the same fashion, for reasons I’m sure you understand.”
Kaylin didn’t.
Tara, gaze focused on Spike, continued. “Candallar’s Tower allowed the Lord intoRavellon. The Lord returned bearing Spike. He then released Spike, who flew—at speed—to where you were, in the West March, across the continent. What did you do to free Spike?”
“I think—nothing? I think Terrano did that.”
“I believe we would like to speak with Terrano.”
Kaylin thought the chances of that pretty low, given the fieflord was a Dragon. They weren’t zero, because Terrano still lived with her, but it wasn’t to speak of Spike or Terrano that she’d come to Tiamaris.
“Candallar first.”
Tara looked to Tiamaris for permission. It wasn’t particularly subtle. Tiamaris didn’t appear to notice.
“I have encountered Candallar twice since I made the fief my home.”
Kaylin nodded. The water of the mirror remained water, the surface so still it reflected the light perfectly.
“I have encountered Nightshade more often, but he was one of the few who was willing—on occasion—to speak with the Halls of Law.”
“Candallar hasn’t.”
“Actually, he has,” Tiamaris replied.
“I checked Records.”
“You checked Records relevant to your duties as a Hawk.”
