Page 188 of Cast in Conflict

The jelly-limbs...burst.

Dark liquid fanned out in a spray. Bakkon’s webbing caught it, preventing it from reaching his face or body. The fluid flew in a circular arc, hitting the shelves to either side of the Wevaran’s webbing.

The books began to dissolve. Kaylin grabbed the small sack from Bakkon’s back leg.

“You must leave,” the Wevaran said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I am not your concern.”

Mandoran reached out and grabbed Kaylin by the shoulder. “This is not the time to argue.”

“He wants us to leave him—”

“We stand no chance against that creature, and he knows it.”

As books melted to the left and right of the Wevaran, she looked at the web he’d constructed. It was uneven, but the substance that had melted through books—and the shelves on which they sat—hadn’t hit Bakkon. Regardless, she wasn’t certain Bakkon could survive this either.

Wasn’t certain that he wanted to survive.

She had touched him with both hands; she had studied—briefly—the shape of his body, the composition of organs, had felt the beat of a heart, or hearts, and the movement of something that might be lungs. The Shadow had not apparently touched the Wevaran himself.

You won’t survive this, she told him—because she could. She was connected to him by touch. It was the reason the Barrani considered healing an act of hostility.

Bakkon clicked, spitting web as he did. The web was pale, a white-gray color. Starrante’s, by the end, had been pink.

Do not worry about my survival, the Wevaran said, as the creature he faced elongated, and a new round of jelly-like limbs began to protrude from the column of its otherwise featureless body. Bakkon’s front legs moved so quickly they were a blur; it was the shape of the web that made clear that his limbs were moving.

Come with us.

I cannot leave this library. I cannot leave this space.

It’ll destroy the books.

Yes. If I cannot stop it. And I regret that. But I cannot leave the library—not with you.

Why?

Because I will become what they have become. I will become grief and rage and pain, absent will. I am not what they are—but I remember what they were, in ages past. This has been my sanctuary. It has been my cage. I should not have allowed you to enter.

Is the space weaker because we’re in it?

Yes. Bakkon was lying. She could feel and hear a clamor beneath the surface of the words, a disharmony, even if there was only one voice speaking. It is a wonder to me that you have survived.

Survived what?

Anything.

Why—look out!

I understand the nature of the attacks I may face here. I am capable of defending myself. I have given you anything of value left here. I trust you will take it, in the end, to Starrante. Starrante will understand.

She didn’t want to leave him to die.

“Kaylin,” Mandoran said, lips almost attached to her ear. “The Shadow is eating away at the stability of this place. It won’t hold for long.”

“He’ll die,” she replied.

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