Cast in Sorrow

“I see.” He turned, then, to Sedarias, and offered her the slightest of bows. “It appears the world has changed since our incarceration.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. Did you have some concerns?”

“Not until this mortal brought them to my attention.” He left Kaylin and moved to join the group, and it was a group now; they were standing in the shadow of one gigantic eye; it was the whole of the sky in Kaylin’s view, at least on one side of the world.

And the words—the words she’d wanted, the words that had taken the sheen of gold and truth, filled that sky. And she did want them. If Jade and Steffi had never died, she could live with Severn. She would probably be living with him. It hadn’t been much of a life, compared to the one she’d built in Elantra with the Hawks—but she’d been happy then.

It was just one thing. It was just so small. If she could arrive in time. Just that. Just that one thing. She would save Severn, too. She would save him from the torture of guilt and the absolute knowledge that he was—that he could be—a cold-blooded killer.

“Kitling.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?” Kaylin didn’t take her eyes from the sky; she couldn’t.

“Yes.”

“Then go there. I’m fine, Teela. I’ve got this.”

Teela slid an arm around her shoulder. “Yes. You do. You won’t mind if I stay here anyway, just to be as annoying as you generally are when you worry at me?”

“I think the others are waiting for you.”

“Oh, not me,” Eddorian said, joining Teela. “I’ve seen a lot, but to be honest—and if I know Teela, you know how rare that is among our kin—I’ve seen nothing like this. Are you going to destroy the world?”

“I think I understand why Teela likes you,” Valliant added. “Mortals are so unpredictable. You haven’t come all this way to end the world, have you? It would seem a waste of effort. You could have just left this corner of it to us.”

“Oh, leave the poor mortal alone,” Serralyn told him. But they all came to stand beside her, watching, their eyes bright with genuine curiosity. Yes, they were as old as Teela—but they hadn’t spent their life in this world. She couldn’t tell who she felt more sorry for—the children or the rest of the Barrani.

She had a suspicion it was the rest of the Barrani, and that didn’t bother her at all.

She turned back to the giant eye. “No,” she told them all. Looking up at the creature, or across at it, she said softly, “Yes, it’s what I want. But I also want wings. I want to be beautiful. I want to be strong. I want to be perfect.

“If every wish I ever had, if every fear, could become real, instantly, I would destroy the world. I didn’t understand how it could happen, before. The stories about familiars—the ones we have—never make it clear. But I—I understand it now. What I don’t understand is how any sorcerers survived summoning familiars. I’m not even a sorcerer. I can barely light a candle. I still can’t do it reliably on command.” She lifted her arms; her marks were now gray and flat. “You might recognize them. You might even be able to read them. I don’t, and can’t. But it’s—it’s a borrowed power. It’s not mine. I don’t control it. If you came to me because of the marks, I’m sorry.

“Close your eyes. Go back to sleep. We’ll try not to wake you again.”

The eye did not, predictably, close. Instead, the creature inhaled; the words that had filled the whole of a night sky were sucked into a maelstrom of other words, of different light, until they were lost. She reached out instinctively to try to...do what? She forced her hand back to her side.

She’d had the chance. She knew. She would have died for them. If it would end there, she thought, even now, she could do it. If there was some way to trade her life for theirs, with nothing else lost in the balance, she thought she could die. She was grateful that she didn’t believe in ghosts, because she couldn’t imagine facing the two girls to tell them that she couldn’t take the risk. How would they ever believe that they had been important to her?

They would know you.

She frowned. “Who said that?”

“Who said what, kitling?”

They would know you, Kaylin.

“Never mind.” The eyes were closing. Or at least, to Kaylin, it looked as if they were; it took her a few seconds to understand that they were actually shrinking.

You will do.

“Do for what?”

Worlds have been destroyed before. Not one. Many. And it starts, as it almost started for you, with one moment.

“And you couldn’t stop it?”

All possibilities exist in me, some darker and some brighter than others. All words, all languages, all silences, all emptiness, all isolation. I am not the containment. You are. You are what stands between me and the world in which you live. Some of the words are your words. You would recognize them. Many are not.

“But I didn’t summon you.”

No more did you summon the water, Chosen. But she hears you when you call. The fire speaks your name. I did not come to you. You found me. You came to me.

The eyes were now the size of Kaylin, although they existed in the air without a face as a frame.

“Kitling—”

“I’m doing what I can, Teela,” Kaylin said—in brusque Elantran.

She was surprised by the sound of Teela’s laughter. Teela tightened the arm she’d draped around Kaylin’s shoulder. “Yes. You always did. I remember the day you ended up in the lethe dealer’s den—you’d run yourself practically to exhaustion. You didn’t lose them,” she added, fondly. “You were fourteen. I thought it extremely unlikely, with your sense of caution, you’d survive to see fifteen.

“But you did. And sixteen, beyond it.”

“Teela—what did sorcerers do with familiars?”

Teela shook her head. “I didn’t lie; I have no idea. I would have bet against their being real.”

“With your own money?”

“Yes. And I actually have some, unlike some people.”

I contain all words, the creature said. But not all words can contain me. What would you have of me now?

“Go to sleep. Go back to wherever it is the water and the fire go when they’re dismissed.”

I cannot return, Kaylin.

“You can’t stay here,” was her flat reply. She felt Teela’s arm tighten. “You can’t hear him, can you?”

“No. Probably for the best.”

“Why can’t you go back?”

Ask Teela to explain.

Kaylin did. She asked while she watched the eyes grow smaller still; they were now the size of her head.

“You can’t summon elementals without understanding—fully—the name of the element. But the name is not the whole of the thing; you wouldn’t survive the attempt to summon all of fire.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s been tried, historically. You spoke with the elemental Evarrim summoned.”

Kaylin nodded.

“Could you dismiss it?”

“No.”

“Why?”