like you to answer my question, now.”
“It wasn’t a question, that I recall.” Teela exhaled. “The Barrani, like the Dragons, are ancient races. Mortals are relative newcomers. You’ve seen the Lake of Life. I don’t know if you’ve seen the draconic birthing pits—I’m going to assume that you haven’t.”
“I haven’t.”
“I’d suggest you avoid it, although given it’s you I shouldn’t bother—you tend to do the opposite of anything resembling smart.” She murmured something about having three wings, which was an Aerian expression that wasn’t always used to imply innate stupidity. “You’ve probably heard the Barrani Hawks complain about boredom.”
Anyone with functional ears had heard the Barrani Hawks make that complaint. Kaylin nodded.
“The Ancients liked to create. Much of what they created would make no sense to you—it barely makes sense to us. We were not—Barrani and Dragon—the first attempt at creating a self-replicating species.”
“The Shadows—”
“We don’t believe the Shadows were meant to be a distinct species. The Ancients’ sense of either distinct or species, however, is poorly understood. You know that we require words to fully come to life.”
“Names. True names.”
“We require one,” Teela continued. “And the one is drawn from the Lake, by the Lady. Without it, the vessel of our body never wakes. When our ancestors were created, there was no Lady. There were Ancients.”
“Were you like the Dragons, then?”
“In what way? I am not aware that Dragons require two names.”
“They don’t require it. But I think they can contain more.”
“That is a thought you will keep firmly to yourself. Forever.”
“The Dragons were supposed to be made of stone and imbued with life.”
“Yes, well. It’s probably true of the first Dragons. We are not entirely certain that it’s true of the first Barrani. You think of stone as something that can be chiseled into the desired shape; it is why the word stone is used in these tales. The Ancients were not so limited in their building materials. Flesh could be—and was—shaped and changed.”
The Leontines.
“Flesh could be merged and combined, while both living creatures somehow remained alive for the process. But flesh was perhaps a later concept, for the Ancients. You think of them as large, powerful people. Perhaps that is how they appeared to us, when they still walked the world—or the worlds. But it was only a facet of what they were in total, and they couldn’t show us most of their faces. We couldn’t perceive them; couldn’t interact with them.
“It’s my belief—and I am not a sage—that they could speak to us and we could not hear them unless they chose a form with which we could interact. We could not see them, unless they chose to confine themselves or diminish themselves in a similar fashion; we were too slender, too fixed, and too small.”
“I’m guessing that’s not the popular view among the Barrani.”
“It is accepted as probable history. Popularity has very little to do with it. The earliest of our kin were not concerned with keeping records for their possible descendants.”
“Did they have descendants in the traditional sense? Like, children, grandchildren, that kind of thing?”
“Not most of them, no.”
“Then why are they even called Barrani?”
“Because we lived in the cities they built. They were not like us, Kaylin. You hate Arcanists. You wouldn’t have a word for what the ancestors were. But it is believed that they were not possessed of single, true names, but complex phrases. When the ancestors were bored, they had options to alleviate that boredom that are undreamed of by the rest of my people now.
“One of them historically involved destroying the rest of us.” At Kaylin’s sharp intake of breath, Teela shrugged. “They did not see it as destruction; they wished to take control of the words that gave us life, and to remake them in some fashion.
“They attempted to do the same with the Dragons; if I am fair, they attempted to relieve the Dragons of their names first.” Teela began to walk again, taking the hall to the right because the hall to the left ended abruptly in a lot of wall.
“I’m going to assume that failed, since we still have Dragons.”
“It was not notably successful, no. It caused some difficulties with the Dragons.”
“Were there Dragon ancestors, as well?”
“You will have to ask your Arkon,” was the stiff reply. “The Barrani are not keepers of Dragon lore, except where it involves war.”
Kaylin was silent for another long beat. Dragons did not require names to wake. They didn’t require names to live. They just required true names to become their dual selves. She decided that if Teela didn’t know this, she wasn’t about to inform her. Then again, Nightshade was probably listening. Ugh.
He was diplomatic; if he heard, he said nothing.
“If they were that dangerous, how did you kill them?”
“We formed the war bands,” she replied. When Kaylin failed to respond immediately, she added, “You didn’t think they were created just to fight Dragons, did you?”
Since the answer was more or less yes, Kaylin said nothing. “We don’t have a war band here.”
“No. You said there were two?”
Kaylin nodded.
“I’d really like to strangle Nightshade.”
“How would Annarion feel about that?”
“At the moment? Sanguine. He doesn’t, on the other hand, feel it would be easy.”
“Easier than meeting the ancestors head on?”
“Definitely easier than that.” Teela stopped. “Corporal? The halls have not materially changed since we entered them, and I dislike being roped together like human foundlings.”
Severn nodded and unwound his chain. To Kaylin’s surprise, he also released her. He didn’t sheathe his weapons, and the visible scar on his jaw looked whiter and more pronounced than it usually did. The talk of Barrani ancestors had clearly raised the stakes.
Not that they were insignificant to begin with.
Nightshade, are the ancestors still guarding the Long Halls?
Yes.
Are they awake?
I am uncertain, Kaylin. The Castle is in flux.
Where are you, damn it?
I am at the heart of my castle.
And where is Annarion?
He is also at the heart of the Castle. Before you ask, we are not in the same place.
Kaylin hated magical buildings with a loud, multisyllabic passion. Can you come to us?
Not safely—for you. I am attempting to keep the Castle’s defenses at a minimum.
Given the existence of Barrani that even Teela feared, this didn’t seem like a great idea.
If the Castle’s defenses are fully mobilized, it will attempt to exterminate all intruders. This is unlikely to harm the ancestors. It is, however, likely to damage you.
You don’t seem that concerned.
No? I am unlikely to perish here, no matter what the outcome. You, however, are not guaranteed to survive. Do not look for me; look for the runes of the Ancients.