Page 164 of Cast in Conflict

Kaylin was appalled. The other Towers are occupied.

Yes. Clearly the outcaste understands that if damage is to be done in any significant fashion, it is to be done before the Tower takes a captain.

Kaylin turned to Karriamis. “How limited are your powers if you have no captain?”

“Against Shadows I can perceive, I have no limits.”

“And these?”

“Are not Shadow as it was once perceived. I am old, Lord Kaylin. And I fail to understand why you, as Chosen, remain within the Tower.”

“Bullshit.” Bellusdeo reached out and place a very heavy palm on Kaylin’s shoulder—which was not her mouth. She took the unspoken warning.

Karriamis smiled. “It is not a lie. I fail to understand how you—with your paltry decades of probable life should you learn to be cautious—do not understand how to invoke the power of the marks of the Chosen. In other worlds and at other times, the weapons of the Barrani would be irrelevant in comparison. As would Lord Emmerian, and even Bellusdeo.”

Kaylin turned toward the stairs, or tried; Bellusdeo’s grip tightened. “I need that shoulder,” she snapped.

“It’s a collarbone, and yes, you do. Do not let him goad you.”

“Why not? You did!”

Emmerian took to the sky. He was carrying Teela.

Yes, Nightshade said. Annarion and Sedarias offered to...show her how to take advantage of very specific weight reduction to...climb, I believe. It is not something An’Teela has done before, and Lord Emmerian, given the nature of the cohort, wished to avoid any other unpredictable catastrophes.

Where are the rest of the cohort?

I believe they are attempting to convince the occupants of the buildings that directly surround the Tower to leave. He thought it a waste of time. This predictably annoyed Kaylin.

It is a waste because they will not be heeded. They themselves are not in any danger yet, but the mortals who shelter here will not be moved except by force—and force takes far more time. Will Bellusdeo join us?

No. But I’m pretty sure we’re going to see Tiamaris soon.

Indeed.

Kaylin fell silent for a long beat. You don’t think it’s going to be enough.

I think the Aerians have been in Ravellon, and while they are not of Shadow, they have been transformed. Ah, no, he added, the words are not precise. Ask Karriamis what happens when those who are infected by Shadow are overcome by it.

“The living are not all of one thing, they are not all of another. Especially mortals. While they are bound by simple truths—birth, death—everything in between can be radically different. They have mortal forms, of course—but those might take damage, they might lose arms, legs, eyes or hearing; they have different proclivities, and in a matter of a simple decade they can transform so much they might not be recognizable as the same individuals without prior experience.

“They are already shifting, mutable existences; they age. Tests for purity could not be performed on mortals. Not even your animals.” He glanced at Kaylin. “There is a reason your Ferals exist; a reason they can leave Ravellon and return to it. The Towers were not created to prevent their escape; they were not created to take note of each rodent that crosses the border.”

Bellusdeo pulled a piece of rock from the window frame as the outcaste drew closer.

“Therefore Shadow of a certain type can enter a mortal; it can make changes. You yourself have experienced this; you bear Shadow now as an intrinsic part of your hand. It is not, however, sentient. Such a power is a tool, just as sword or bow might be.”

Bellusdeo growled. Her hand, however, remained on Kaylin’s shoulder.

“The danger with Shadow as a power—a summoned power—is the sentience. Summon fire, water, earth, air, and you are aware of the danger of that sentience, such as it is; it is a battle of, a contest of, will. Shadow is not, and has never been, the same. It is far less elemental, and it does not require the exercise of will in the same fashion; it is far more subtle.

“However, I feel you are not asking the correct question, and Bellusdeo grows impatient. The outcaste is powerful enough that he can carry that Shadow; it will not overwhelm him. He is intelligent enough to understand, however, the limits of those who fly at his side now.

“They could pass the barrier we created when they first left Ravellon by air. They would not, however, pass it so easily now. In an hour, perhaps two, they will be hollowed out, dead, and yet ambulatory.”

“Can’t you do something about them?”

“Soon, Chosen.”

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