Page 122 of Cast in Atonement

After, his influence had clearly begun to bleed into Azoria’s home. On their previous visit, the shape of the halls, the placement of the foyer and its stairs, had remained relatively fixed; the appearance was different, but the structure had been similar.

That was clearly no longer the case.

“Can you think with me for a bit?” she asked Severn, as she walked.

He nodded.

“After Azoria died, Mrs. Erickson made us walk through every square inch of the area. She could see the dead trapped in service to Azoria, and she wanted to free them all. She didn’t want any of them to be left behind. I didn’t tell her about the dead Ancient, because to me, he wasn’t very dead.

“But I’ve been thinking about this hall since then. Azoria could see the dead while they were in this hall, in this part of the manse. She could see the children here. Could give them commands she expected would be obeyed. When they came here, she could see them. When their bodies were alive, I believe she could see them as well, even if they weren’t in her home.

“But once their bodies died, she couldn’t. Jamal discovered this because she visited once or twice. He was—they all were—terrified of Azoria. With reason. Jamal was a smart kid. He figured out that she couldn’t see them in Mrs. Erickson’s house. But she could see him when he came here. She could trap him here.

“Something about this space—the space she created—was made for the dead. While she was alive, she could entrap and contain most of them, even the Ancient. But the Ancient was in the outlands, not in her mansion, and the only way to reach him was the portal she’d created in that giant self-portrait. The portal served as a connection. I think part of the power she utilized came from the words, the names, that existed in the Ancient, even after his so-called death. So she couldn’t cut it off or seal the entrance; she needed a persistent connection.” She glanced at Severn.

“Do you believe her ability to handle the dead was something she learned, or do you think it came from the Ancient’s power?” He surveyed the area as he spoke.

“I’m not certain. It’s clear that she meant to possess Mrs. Erickson because she wanted command of the dead Ancient. But I’m not at all certain being dead somehow granted the Ancient any specific power. It’s just...dead doesn’t mean the same thing to Ancients as it does to the rest of us.”

“You think she constructed this hall as a containment for the dead, a way of holding on to some essential part of what they’d been in life?”

Kaylin nodded. “Does that sound stupid?”

“I wish it did. Do you believe that her specific construction allowed the Ancient to seep into these halls and remake them?”

“That’s my fear now, yes. I wish I understood what death means to Ancients—but Larrantin didn’t know, and I’m pretty sure we won’t get answers from the Arbiters, either. Just a lot more questions. I think Mrs. Erickson could speak to the Ancient; I don’t know what she would see. Helen believed that shamans existed to help free those trapped in our world after their deaths. I just don’t know if there’s much of an after for an Ancient.”

“You’re worried.”

“I am. The ghosts that rose from the altar in the bowels of the Imperial Library didn’t look like ghosts to me. They looked, with effort, like words, trapped in the mirror and bound to it until the moment Mrs. Erickson entered the room. They possessed Sanabalis. Had Mrs. Erickson not been able to reason with them, I’m not sure they’d have let him go.

“But she could. She sees them as people. As humans. She doesn’t see them the way I do—and I could barely manage to see them at all. I know she finds it exhausting to tend to their fear and their anger, but she can. What she sees isn’t what anyone else sees; I’m not sure anyone else could.

“I don’t know if she’d see the Ancient in the same way. Azoria was somehow banking on command, on control—but I’m not sure Mrs. Erickson would have that, even if she tried.”

“And you don’t want her to try.”

Kaylin shook her head. “In an emergency, maybe. Azoria was dead the moment we cut the connection between her and the Ancient. But dead, she was still present, still mobile, still very much a danger. And Mrs. Erickson wouldn’t attempt to stop her because she’d made that promise to Jamal. She wouldn’t break it—even at great need—without his permission, and he gave her permission to do it once. He’s gone. I really don’t think she would even make another attempt.

“She doesn’t command the dead she’s rooming with. She talks to them as if they’re people. She reasons with them. She calms them because, on some level, they can trust her. I don’t think she could do that with the Ancient; the Ancient is perfectly capable of reason.”

“You don’t want her to try.”

“I don’t want to put her through that. Look, she’s old, and she’s lived her life in service to dead children. I want her to have some kind of life of her own, some kind of peace, while she’s still alive. And it’s not as if she only has the ghosts from the library; she has Bellusdeo’s sisters—and Bellusdeo herself. If there’s anything she can do—in the normal way—to help Bellusdeo, she’ll do it. But I don’t think she’d command the dead sisters, either. If she tried, I’m not sure what Bellusdeo would do.”

“But you think the ghosts in the library and this Ancient are somehow related.” It wasn’t a question.

Because it wasn’t a question, Kaylin couldn’t move words around in an attempt to avoid answering it. She nodded. “I just think it’s so unfair. She wasn’t even born when she first encountered Azoria; she was a child when Azoria began whatever spell it was that’s embedded in the family portrait. She didn’t have a normal life—if it weren’t for her parents, I’m not sure what would have happened to her. Her parents,” she added, voice softening, “and the four kids.”

“You’re afraid she’s necessary here.”

“Aren’t you?”

Severn shook his head. “The dead have never attempted to harm Mrs. Erickson—with a single exception. If she’s needed, I think she’ll be as safe as anyone else.”

Kaylin didn’t agree, but she had no time to argue; they had reached the end of the row of trees; the last two formed an arch, and beyond it, the floor shifted, from the black, cloudy murk she could see without Hope’s wing to something that was almost its opposite: pale, almost insubstantial clouds with glints of sparkling color. It was the color that formed the continuity between the two floors.

Through Hope’s wing, she saw grass. Grass, and, growing to the side of a footpath, flowers. Familiar flowers.

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