Cast in Sorrow (Luna Books)(26)

The first word she'd chosen was easy to move; it came with her as if it weighed nothing. She was afraid to let it go, because if that feeling of acceptance, of belonging was somehow a part of her, it was a part she'd worked for. A part she wanted. But she understood that its meaning didn't and couldn't exist in isolation, and she offered it to the only open space it might fit: the fountain, with its rippling water.

The Consort watched, eyes darkening. In the Barrani, fear, anger, and loathing were all expressed with shades of darker blue.

The water rose as the rune began to sink. Given how little it weighed, Kaylin had thought it might float, but she didn't watch it disappear; instead, she turned to the weightier word and saw that the Consort still gripped one long, curved line in white fingers. Kaylin's were about the same color. "Hold on to it," she said, her voice low. "I can't lift it with one hand."

She could barely lift it with two. The Consort understood what she intended. The Barrani Lord was shaking with exhaustion, her eyes ringed in circles that Barrani skin almost never saw, but she planted her feet against the floor, straightening as she did. She put a second hand on the same curved line, and as Kaylin struggled with the weight of the complex word, she strained to help her lift it.

Together they pushed it over the edge of the fountain's basin, scraping gold and ivory; it teetered for a moment on the rim, and the whole of the fountain shook as the rune's weight balanced there.

If Kaylin needed any proof that dreams-at least the dreams of a building-made no sense, she had it; where the weightless rune had sunk into water that was theoretically too shallow, the one she could barely move began to rise. Kaylin's fingers were numb and tingling as she let the word go and turned to the Consort. She slid an arm around her as the Consort began to sway.

Together, they watched the rune rise. It seemed to absorb the sunlight that shone from a near cloudless sky, brightening until they had to squint to see it at all. When it was four yards above them, the shadows took to the air directly above it, the featherless wings moving in time. They began to circle the rune, and as they did, they began to speak.

So did the eagles, although the eagles didn't join their flight pattern.

The rune stretched, thinned, elongated. The light it had absorbed was so brilliant a white, Kaylin lifted a hand to her eyes. She'd tried closing them, but it still made no difference; she might as well have had no eyelids.

She lowered her hand in a hurry when the water shattered.

* * *

Shards flew. Kaylin didn't have time to duck; unlike the Consort, she tried anyway. Three glittering pieces of what could only be ice struck her; two hit her arms, piercing skin exposed by the patterned holes in her sleeves.

The third struck her in the chest, just beneath the hollow of her throat. There was no convenient hole in the green, perfect fabric-or there hadn't been. The shard wasn't large, and it wasn't long; she'd taken more serious injuries in the drill yard on a bad day. But it was cold; she felt a brief, sharp pain followed by a spreading numbness as the world stopped moving.

No, she thought, not the world-just everything in it. The eagles. The shadows. The Consort. Shards of ice-ice that glittered like broken glass-continued their outward trajectory. She watched, knowing suddenly where they were flying: to the statues that stood on nonexistent pedestals in the spokes of the courtyard.

The statues moved, as Kaylin had, lifting arms to protect their faces. Nothing made sense; Kaylin held her breath as flying ice met standing glass. She wasn't certain what to expect. Where the Barrani ghosts were struck, their entire forms rippled and shivered, as if they were water into which a small object had been violently thrown. The rippling didn't stop; it was disturbing. Worse. The rippling spread, changing their haughty, Barrani expressions, distorting the lines of their faces in a way that implied emotion was the result of external force.

She turned back to the Consort, who hadn't moved at all. The eagles had. If Kaylin hadn't spent too damn long in pointless memory exercises in the Halls, she might not have noticed. Time hadn't stopped-it had slowed. It had slowed for everyone but Kaylin. Reaching up, she grabbed the ice that had lodged in her chest and attempted to pull it out. Her hand went instantly numb; she couldn't even move her fingers.

She stopped trying.

No sign of the two words she'd brought to this chamber remained.

Instead, in the center of what had once been a basin, standing exactly where water would have fallen, was a statue; it was a thing of ice, a sculpture just under six feet in height. Its feet were bare, and its arms; a simple summer shift fell from its straight shoulders, trailing down front and back in a drape that implied heavy silk.

Hair fell in the same way, but Barrani hair always did that. Kaylin lifted her face to meet the clear eyes of the twelfth statue, the twelfth Barrani ghost.

It was Teela.

* * *

But she wasn't the Teela Kaylin knew, not exactly. Kaylin knew she'd never seen Barrani children. The eleven ghosts hadn't looked particularly young to Kaylin, either; they looked like Barrani to her.

But Teela did look younger. She didn't look like a child, but she didn't-quite-look like the adult she was now, either; she was caught in the middle somewhere, the way teenaged mortals were. She didn't look gawky or skinny; she looked slender, not quite finished, her chin slightly softer, her expression-well, she had one. These colorless, ice eyes were wider, her lips were parted, her hands extended, palms cupped before her as if she were carrying something, offering it, pleading. It made Kaylin distinctly uncomfortable, but she couldn't look away. And because she didn't, she wasn't aware that the other statues, still distorted by whatever had struck them, had started to move. Not until they approached the basin.

The nightmares spoke; the eagles spoke.

The statues were silent until they reached the basin that had become a pedestal. There, they lifted their arms in unison and looked up at Teela, as if reaching for her.

As one, they opened their mouths. And as one, they began to scream.

* * *

The Consort staggered as movement returned to the room. She flinched at the sound of Barrani screams because they were Barrani voices.

The runes were gone. The water, gone, as well.

Kaylin and the Consort, however, were still trapped in a stone courtyard in the nightmare of a Hallionne; Kaylin couldn't think of this as a dream. She turned to the Consort, trying to quash growing panic. "I'm sorry."

The Consort's voice was thin and rough. "For what? There are very few apologies I will now accept from you."

"I thought-" Kaylin swallowed. She had to lift her voice; even standing as she was right beside the Consort's ear, everything else in the room was making so much damn noise she had to struggle to be heard. "I thought, if I brought the words to you, they'd-"

"Yes?"

"I thought you'd wake up."

"I am not asleep," the Consort replied. Her voice was calm and quiet.

"How do we get out of here?"

"The same way we entered," the Consort replied. She raised one hand; it was an imperious gesture. The nightmare shadows wheeled and turned toward her, breaking their flight pattern.

Kaylin's jaw would have hit floor if it hadn't been attached to the rest of her face.

The Consort smiled. Her eyes were still blue, but it was the blue you might see at the heart of an emerald; it suggested the essence of green. She whispered a word. Alsanis.

The eagles turned their heads toward her. They spoke; she replied. Kaylin couldn't understand a word. The Consort said, without lowering her arm, "The dreams of Alsanis. Lord Kaylin, what did you do to wake them?"

"I don't know." But she lifted her arms, as well, opening her palms. The Consort lowered hers; she spoke to the shadows. The shadows did not reply with words, but they came, and they landed on Kaylin's arms. The marks on her skin began their slow burn.

This time when she closed her eyes, the courtyard vanished. She opened them again in a panic, and met the Consort's gaze. "I will not leave, Lord Kaylin."

"It's not the leaving I'm worried about," Kaylin lied.

The Consort frowned; Kaylin closed her eyes again. Her skin was uncomfortably hot; her legs ached, and the back of her neck felt as if it had been rubbed raw. But her arms didn't hurt. They felt blessedly cool.

She'd forgotten the small dragon. He hadn't forgotten her.

"If you don't stop biting me, I'll bite you back."

Squawk.

Her arms felt heavy; she struggled to keep them raised. She wasn't going to win.

Squawk.

"Yes, we understand."

She opened her eyes. She was carrying two eagles. She could see tendrils of shadow drifting away from wings as the eagles pushed themselves into the air. One more.

One. Kaylin raised her arms again, and she caught the final shadow. And it was a shadow; it weighed nothing, and implied the flight of a bird she couldn't see overhead. She called the bird, and the bird emerged, cracking shadow as if it were shell.

This fifth eagle, this final bird, turned its head toward the Consort, tilting it to one side. His voice was rich and resonant, his words unintelligible.

"Close your eyes, Lord Kaylin," the Consort said.

Kaylin was tired enough to obey.

"You don't understand dreams of Alsanis."

"No. But it feels like I should, which makes me feel stupid. More stupid," she added. "I can't pin it down. It has the vowels and consonants of High Barrani, but it feels more fluid." She hesitated. "When I was brought to the High Halls for the first time, I was asked to heal your brother."