Page 178 of Cast in Conflict

“Could you see it before?”

“Before you started torturing me, you mean?” Before she could answer, he said, “No.”

She exhaled. “Let me finish what I’m doing.”

“Is there any end in sight?”

She nodded, and then said, “Yes.”

The Shadow didn’t leave Mandoran in threads, as it had the last time. She could feel and see it as strands, layered between the more physical elements that she could identify as Barrani, but as she detached them, those strands seemed to coalesce into the fog that now shrouded her right hand, her right forearm. It seemed to hover above her skin, but didn’t sink beneath it to do whatever it had been trying to do with Mandoran.

“Can you see your feet?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see my hand?”

“Yes—it looks disembodied, which is disturbing.”

She shifted position, then. “Step forward. I’ll follow.” She made it most of the way through what she saw as wall. She was only a little surprised when her right hand got stuck. There was no wall on Mandoran’s side; no hint of rounded tunnel, no hint of darkness.

Her arm appeared to be stuck or caught on nothing. But that nothing was better than Shadow. Mandoran, however, felt like Mandoran. And when she looked at him, he no longer looked like a nightmare configuration of himself.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Having a bit of difficulty extricating my hand from the stuff I pulled out of you, yes.”

“I’ll wait. Quietly.”

She snorted. Working her hand free wasn’t painful, but it reminded Kaylin of watching Caitlin remove an old ring—the ring itself too small to easily fit over a knuckle, but small enough that it fit the finger beneath that knuckle. The analogy helped. What had Caitlin done in the end?

Oh, right. Soap. Water.

“Your language is really foul.”

“Quietly, remember?” She cursed again. This time, Mandoran lent her his weight as she pulled.

She landed on him when her arm finally came free. The hand was no longer ringed with a cloud of Shadow. She then exhaled and turned to look at the room.

Mandoran had been right: they were in a library. It reminded Kaylin very much of the library space within the Academia: the height of the shelves, the ceiling, and the intimidating number of books it contained. If she could read them all—and her guess was she couldn’t—she wouldn’t finish before she’d perished of old age.

She began walking, dragging Mandoran with her. Even if he looked normal, she didn’t want to let go of his hand. Not yet. She was willing to hand him over to the cohort, but none of the cohort were here. At eye level, she could see a third of the shelves; she could crane her neck up, could reach maybe the half point if she stood on her toes.

“I wouldn’t touch anything here if I were you,” Mandoran helpfully said.

“I just want to see if they’re actually books.”

“I really wouldn’t touch anything.”

“We’re already touching the floor. We’re going to have to touch the door. I just want to see if this is actually what it looks like it is.”

“I am so glad I’m not in contact with everyone else.”

“Terrano would check.”

“Terrano knows what he can survive.”

“And I don’t?”

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